Tuesday, December 22, 2015

She's Like Waldo Sometimes

The noose of the holiday is tightening around Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's neck!

In the midst of today's running around, The Pony and I joined my favorite gambling aunt and her grandson for lunch. Let the record show that we had several stops to make this morning, of indeterminate length. So we sent a text to schedule a lunch meeting at 12:30. I took a shortcut, Even Steven was behaving himself, and so we reached our predetermined destination at 12:15.

"We'll just wait here. I'm sure she'll park in a handicap spot. We should see her car."

"I thought she had a new car."

"No. It's still the same car. Not her Lincoln, though. The one she bought last year. When she went to get her oil changed in the Lincoln, and ended up driving a new car home."

"Yeah. The little one."

"She does not have a little car. She's always had a big car. But this white one is smaller than her silver Lincoln."

"I mean that it's not like this one. Not up high. Lower."

"Oh. You mean a sedan?"

"I don't know what a sedan is."

"You know. Your school buddy drives one. That took you over to Elementia for that children's book thing your class did. A car with four doors. A passenger car. A sedan."

"This one has four doors."

"But this one is an SUV."

"Well, that's what I meant by small. Not up high. Like ours."

"Oh. I thought you meant a subcompact or something."

"No. Not at all."

"Well, there's a car over there, but hers would not be a plain one. It's still some kind of Lincoln. Just not a Town Car. But we're not getting started on what a Town Car is. Maybe she's in that handicap spot there. Where we can't see. But there was nobody in it. I'm sure she would wait for us out here. We have to give her Chex Mix."

"Maybe."

"Yeah. Why would she go in? I never go in. I wait outside. Is that her? No. Look. It's time. I'm going to send her a text that we're here. 'WE ARE HERE.' But if she's driving, she won't be able to look. Just the thought of her texting while sitting in her chair at home scares me. But if she's already here, and we just can't see her, she'll text back."

"There. She responded."

"Huh. 'SO ARE WE. COME ON IN.' I can't believe she's already inside! And we sat here 15 minutes waiting on her!"

"You should have texted her sooner."

It's always a gamble, meeting up with the favorite gambling aunt.

2 comments:

Sioux said...

The Pony didn't know what a sedan was. My genius didn't know that you don't need an invitation to go to a funeral.

They're both brilliant...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Maybe...now that my Pony has his license...he could drive your son to a funeral in a sedan. IF he has an invitation, of course.