A Titanic task


Welcome to the Princess Cruise line, otherwise known as Queen Bee of the Sea. 

That should be the sign on my front door when mom comes to visit. Because like any good cruise director, it's my job to keep her entertained.

Morning yoga? Nah. The only exercise mom is doing at 5 a.m. is lifting her cell phone.

Brisk walk around the deck? Nada. But her voice keeps a steady pace as she works through her morning calls: her sister, her brother, one of her children.

Shuffleboard? Nope. But the TV remote gets a workout.

Breakfast buffet? Not really. Just coffee and toast, and a check of the blood sugar.

Arts and crafts? Not if she has to make something; how about the art of the manicure?

Afternoon swim? Actually more like a deep dive. Because around 2 p.m., she's ready to sink into the couch for a nap. (It's what happens when you get up at 5.)

Movie night? Absolutely, unless you measure her interest by the number of scenes that go by as she nods off. 

Magic show? The only wizardry she's interested in is what happens when she orders a meal, and poof, it comes out nice and hot, hot enough to burn anyone else's tongue like a lit torch.

The upside of Mom's visit was that I had help with "Gran" from my teenage niece, who can join any adult for lively conversation and have them reassess even the strongest opinions. The fact that she dares to challenge her grandmother's staunch opinions is noteworthy. 

"Gran, you snore." "No I don't."

"Grand, I'm a vegan." "Does that mean you can't eat meat?" 

"Gran, my shorts are not too short!" "Yes they are. But what do I know? I'm on my way out."

On our last "cruise" outing, it wasn't a midnight buffet she was hankering for, but ice cream on a sugar cone. And theme night? Let's just say the theme is Regina every night.

Dress comfortably.


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