There comes a time in life when you realize it is easier to take the path of least resistance.
There also comes a time when you realize you have turned into your mother.
Today, it was both....
I use to always tease my mom about becoming like her own mother. My grandmother is quite an eccentric character. She is a hoarder and a saver. I am sure that a lot of it is from living thru the Great Depression. She will save anything she thinks that might be of use. Thankfully she has not gotten to the point of there just being paths in her house, but she does have more than her fair share of "stuff" lying about.
I have mentioned in other blogs how my grandmother is a tiny woman. She eats like a bird. That is why it is so ironic that she should have in her house, more than one refrigerator, and two freezers. Each one of them is packed with food. Some in bags, some in containers, all labeled neatly with a date of when it was encased in it's frozen tomb.
The main problem is that one woman can not eat that much, nor does she know or remember where she has put the neatly labeled leftovers. She will dig for hours for a beef roast that she bought two weeks ago, and in the event that she can not find it, she will buy another one to cook for family that comes to visit the next day. It's easier....just to give up and go buy another one. I am not sure if she continues to look for the misplaced roast after her company has gone, or if she just adds another package of neatly labled leftovers to her burgeoning stash of frozen foods. Some of which, I know have not seen, nor will see the light of day for probably another decade. It makes me nervous thinking about my mom becoming just like her mom. I am glad to report that my mom only has one fridge, and one freezer.
When my oldest brother got married, my mom was determined to find just the right dress to wear to the occassion. The colors the bride chose for her wedding were black and red, so my mother picked out a very suitable and pretty black dress. She wore it to my brother's wedding and looked nice in it. It wasn't even a year later, when she found herself invited to another wedding. She claimed she had to go shopping...shopping for another new dress. I asked her about the dress she wore to my brother's wedding. In complete seriousness she looked me in the eye and said she couldn't wear it. I asked her why, and her reply...."because I would have to iron it".
I know there had to be a look of pure dumbfoundedness on my face. I thought back to those hours and hours we went from store to store to find that dress, and she would not wear it again because she would have to iron it!
I remember as a child my mom ironing. The more I thought of it, I couldn't remember my mom ironing so much as we go older and in high school. Today my mom refuses to buy anything that requires ironing or dry cleaning. For her, the path of least resistance,...(or getting out of ironing), more than made up for the time and cost involved in shopping.
I start to worry more when I think about things being hereditary....
Today I braved the crowds of last minute shoppers. I brought home a box that was only about 5 inches wide, and 3 and a half feet long. In that small box was a 4 foot tall Christmas tree (once it was unfolded),complete with it's own stand and bought on clearance... dirt cheap. A few moments of adjusting the flattened branches and it was placed on top of a large crock, and standing proudly in the corner. After only a couple of minutes of crawling over the lawn mower and a tiller in the garage, to get to the rubbermaid tote of stored Christmas decorations,... I had my tree up and decorated. One strand of lights, one long beaded garland (wrapped many,many times around the tree) 2 dozen assorted red ornaments and one star for the top of my new tree.... Well once the star cooperated..... The uppermost point of the tree had to be bent back down and doubled to support the star, or else it drooped much like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
I stood back to admire my handi-work. The tree (looking very much like a manical lumberjack had stolen the bottom of it), otherwise was going to pass muster. I thought of the old artificial 7 foot Christmas tree out in the garage in a box that had been taped and retaped dozens of times. Of the two wood green sticks that made it's trunk, the individual branches each color coded and having to be sorted thru and then poked in it's coordinating hole. The numerous attempts to try and balance the tree in it's stand, while not having it fall over or lean too badly. The many strands of lights, and decorations, and boxes of other ornamentation of Christmas's past.
Today I have my tree up.....
I took the path of least resistance, and for just a moment, I knew what my mom meant about the ironing.
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