I have this really nasty habit, okay honestly, I have a plethora of nasty habits, but I only have enough time to discuss the ONE. I have a tendency to read implications in conversations that aren’t really implications at all. They are just statements, or just questions. I don’t know if this is a Mars Venus thing, a woman thing, or a me thing. Mister Hombre has taken great pride in the past, telling me that men don’t take hints, they are direct creatures. That might be true, but for a man who doesn’t take hints, I’ve watched him drop them, like an overloaded B-17 bomber.

Most of this week was consumed by extended family. I have a tendency to plan family visits back to back so I can experience all the pain, bloating and eye rolling over an abbreviated period like yanking off a band-aid. Besides you look good when you say, I’m sorry we need to be on our way because we should check on (insert parent or in-law here). Then everyone thinks, “Wow, you hardly have time for yourselves, you are so busy checking on everyone else.” Of course this method can also turn on you like a rabid dog, resulting in, “You never spend time with me, you are always with (insert parent or in-law here).The good thing about this, is by Friday, my head won’t be pounding like the steel drums at a Bob Marley concert, though I may develop a case of the munchies.

Mister Hombre spent Monday afternoon with his parents. (They moved his Mom to a swing bed. When she can better manage, she’ll be moved back to assisted living.) Tuesday was spent with my mother making two trips to the vet (5 cats, 1 dog, 3 band-aids), and hauling away yard debris. Our efforts were rewarded with a most awesome fresh blueberry cobbler. Wednesday, the Mister was to visit his mother again. I took pity on him and went along.

There were three chairs in her room, all occupied, so I stood during the entire visit. Well, there was one other seating option, but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my dignity for the amusement of the others. Besides, when you stand, you trick your brain into believing, “I’m not going to be here much longer.” Yeah, yeah and “Sanity is a cozy lie” (Susan Sontag). I think the visit drove the Mister batty. Ole One Eye was not at his sharpest, and was having difficulty engaging in coherent conversation, and Mrs One Eye was fidgety and irritable.

Mrs One Eye was fixated on a box of tissues, her pants, and eventually my shoes. We had an interesting conversation. My voice isn’t within her hearing range, so she hears little nothing I say. She doesn’t bother to read my lips, because she is more comfortable pretending I am offering a canned answer. For example, she asked,”How is your mother doing?”. To which I responded, “She is very STUBBORN”. Then she responded in kind, “That’s good”. Excuse me, WTF?

Then she complimented my shoes. I’m not paranoid, but I question the sincerity of any eighty-year old woman complimenting tennis shoes, when she has never owned a pair. I know she’s attempting to be polite and make conversation, but my shoes are casual friday, skid resistant, water sport shoes. Hell, they’re even a masculine color scheme. She is many things, but she isn’t exactly a casual friday, skid resistant, water sport, masculine color scheme, kind of lady. Next, she said she wished someone would help her find shoes like that. She wanted shoes that didn’t have slippery bottoms. Not sure what else to say I offered to get her pair.

True to my word, I picked up the shoes today and saved the receipt. I’m 80% sure she won’t wear the shoes. She won’t like the width, and she won’t like the color. I don’t honestly care about the outcome, I just intend to keep my word, even if she doesn’t remember.

I spoke with Mister Hombre this afternoon and told him I had the shoes. He asked me if I was going to take them to her while he was gone. I replied ,”No, you can take them the next time you go.” I considered, he might be dropping the hint that I should deliver the shoes without him. I thought there might even be this undertone of hope in his voice that I should pursue a relationship with his mother that neither he, nor his brothers had bothered to cultivate. Or perhaps, since I was a woman and she was a woman… I concluded, if I continued to credit him with these implicit feelings I was only going to be pissed off with him the entire time he was gone. For a few moments, I considered the scenario, as if the shoe were on the other foot, and I couldn’t picture him visiting my mother under similar circumstances, in my absence.