I'm alive and kicking, and feel safer than a bug in a rug; no side effects from my final Moderna shot! After minding my Ps and Qs this year, and for the most part trying to do the right thing, for the time being, the best I can, I'll behave myself; continue mask-wearing, and social-distancing, (as we all should).
A little pocket wisdom: I heard somebody laugh and say that some folks will stand barefooted in backstreet alleys and sniff untested white powders, but won't take the Covid vaccine made by scientists in a lab. If I could've, I would've been first in line to have that needle pop in my arm.
Safe and secure from all the alarms and harms of Covid 19, I was ready for some pie in the sky, to be off in other times, to other places, and other lands. I recalled that not too long before the virus hit I'd never heisted myself from the windy city and figuratively speaking I was still up nawth. So I decided to check my laptop and then 'Hit the Road Again.'
Daughter-in-law Gail, Great Grand Maddie and I had driven to Chicago; the three of us were enjoying a brief visit with son Bob who was working there.
And now our trip was almost over. Words from an old song, "To Dixie Land I'm bound to travel," ran through my head. And yes indeed, we needed to wend our way on home tomorrow. This was our last day and my family had made touring plans which I hadn't been interested in. My wishes had been set in stone; I intended to do some high-end shopping before we turned south.
Back in Mississippi, lots of my go-to-meeting clothes came from the old Hudson's Discount, a store that had closed some years back. In my mind's eye, clad in Hudson's dresses and shoes I could heist my nose with the best of them. Now, still gussied up in some of their outfits, I might be somewhat out of the loop fashion wise though.
Today, with a little free time on my hands before Gail, Maddie and I headed home I was ready to look for some designer dresses at bargain basement prices. Unfortunately, the best laid plans can often go awry.
When my laptop, Fannie Mae is out of her familiar element, or when things don't go exactly the way she wants, as sometimes seems to happen, she often pokes her bottom lip out. She was showing her backside on this day and I needed for her to be ready to ride and work with me, but up here in Chicago, the little lady had settled into a full-blown pout. I read somewhere, "to err is human, but to really foul things up it takes a computer," and Frettin' Fannie had more problems than the two of us could say grace over. I didn't want, nor did I have the time or patience to sit on a pity pot with her on the long drive to Mississippi. No two ways about it, she needed tending to so I could work on a Sun article while I was on the road.
Spending vacation time in a computer store was not high on my recreation bucket list but for the moment, designer dresses had to take a back seat to Frettin' Fannie.
I told Bob and Gail, no tour stops for me, I had a mission. I think they weren't quite sure I could take care of myself in the big city though. In little more than the blink of an eye and the time it took to load Fannie Mae into a backpack and strap it across my shoulders, they had made arrangements to have me Ubered to a computer shop.
While Bob was giving me detailed instructions on what to do and what not to do on my own, I reached up as if to scratch my head.
In reality, I was also turning my hearing aids down. I did hear his final words though.
"Mother. This is not Mississippi." A cautious look on his face, my son raised his hand as if instructing a dog to sit and stay. "Don't try to make friends with strangers," he counseled as he left for work. "We don't have any distant kinfolks up here, and it's not a good thing to visit and pass the time of day with folks you don't know."
When the rental car came, Gail told the driver where to take me and directed him, "Would you please make sure she has that backpack on when she gets out of the car."
"Sir." I drew in a deep breath and turned to the driver as Gail walked away. "Agewise, my receiver may be off the hook sometimes, and I may be from Mississippi, but I do know a few things."
I hoisted my eyebrows and cleared my throat. "I've never worn white shoes before Easter or after Labor Day. And more importantly," I grinned like a possum eating a sweet potato, then added in a martyr-like whisper, "I don't go to church in bib overalls, I've never worn flip flops to a wedding, or hoop skirts to a funeral."
I patted my coat pocket to make sure I'd picked up my cellphone.
"Now, I'm ready to get this laptop lady back on track."