TGIF

Finally showed up on the correct date for my mother's appointment with Dr. H. This being her yearly physical took longer than usual. Some of the lab work came back abnormal, so back to the lab we went for further analysis.

Without skipping a beat, my mother pulls out of her pocket a brochure for her antique sewing machine and reminds me that the lady in Marcellus told us about a store where she could find the part that she needs. Not bad for the person who swears with every other sentence that she is "losing her mind". I remember vaguely the conversation, only I cannot remember if it was Burnett Ave. or Butternut St. I've always had difficulty distinguishing those two. They run in separate parts of town. Also, I have no idea what the name of the shop might be. No obstacle for my mother. Quem tem boca vai a Roma! Literally translated: If you have a mouth you can reach Rome! So, off to reach Rome we go.

Feeling somewhat awkward I stopped at Ralins, a store that has been on Burnett Ave. as long as I have lived here, and sincerely have no idea how they have survived, being that they charge ten times more than all the chain stores. But they were extremely helpful. Called a repair shop on Erie Blvd. and asked if they knew of such a place. As it turns out, they did. And it was indeed on Burnett Ave. I was on the right road; didn't have to backtrack.

Found the small shop full of old Singer machines. The only type like my mother uses by peddling with her foot. Electric? Heaven forbid! After buying the pieces she needed we went next door to a knitting shop, her other passion.

She was in heaven! Talking up a storm with the two ladies in the shop. Bought some afghan needles even though I have recently found a sight and ordered Portuguese knitting needles. It's more than needles though, she loves to socialize in any form being as gregarious as she is. After all, I have heard all her stories and no longer react with the same enthusiasm as those hearing them for the first time.

Four hours after we initially left the house, she still wanted to make an additional stop. I begged for mercy. I needed to call it a day.

I no sooner settle in when the phone rings and I am being asked to volunteer at the community gardens, a group my father volunteered for many years and taught young people, if I can spend tomorrow with them. I muster up the courage to say NO, which is difficult for me. Feeling proud of myself and already enjoying being able to sleep in tomorrow morning the phone rings again. Short lived illusion. My mother has told Matt, a professor from SU who has fallen in love with her property and the gardens that he may come over to learn how to make the marmelada!
Melly will do it, because she is getting too old....