So.... a funny thing happened to me the other day when I was out shopping for a kilt. What? You didn't know I was interested in buying a kilt? Well, I guess I have kept that info a bit to myself some. Yes, I am interested in expanding my wardrobe options and as a guy, there are actually very little options for me, so I'm pursuing them. Anyway, my wardrobe is beside the point.
So.... I went to this specialty store the other day to shop for kilts. It's kind of a costume store with other novelty items like swords, pirate hats, magic wands, etc. I walk in to be greeted by the owner who I can't really describe as an aggressive salesperson, but she was definitely a personable person and had next to no personal space -- which I don't really have a problem with, but I just need to prepared for such an event.
She asks me if I need help and I tel her I'm interested in looking at kilts and a coworker told me to come by this place. I told the owner the name of the coworker and she said, "Oh.... you're the kilt guy." I'm the kilt guy? Really? I just walked into my first kilt store and I'm already known as the kilt guy. I admit -- I can leave impressions on people, but come on.... this was a bit ridiculous.
She goes and gets me a brown-shaded kilt and says, "Why don't you try this one on?" Instead of handing it to me, she proceeds to wrap her arms around my waste and put it on for me! Hey now, lady! I just met you!
She also now hands me what I've heard described with many names. It was a white long-sleeved shirt that people like pirates and old time poets (like Shakespeare) would wear. It was rather large on me and the long sleeves were "puffy." It had no collar, but it did have two top buttons like a polo shirt has. I took the shirt and the kilt which is now draped around my waist to the dressing room so I could at least put a shirt on with dignity. I took my sweater off (don't worry, I still had a t-shirt on) and put the "puffy" shirt on. I'd say I was starting to look like a authentic Scotsman, if it weren't for the fact that I really just looked like a middle-aged bald white guy dressed up in a Catholic girl uniform. I buttoned up the shirt mostly because I really had no idea how to wear the shirt and headed out to the main part of the store so my new best friend, the store owner, could assist me some more.
Ok, so if it hasn't already been an adventure, here's where it actually gets creepy. I suggest pregnant women and those with weak hearts stop reading now.
I get out to the main part of the store and the store owner comes over to check me out. She recognizes, as I did, that I look more like a Catholic school girl than an authentic Scotsman, so she proceeds to put the sash over my soldier and pin it on my shoulder with a broach. I told her that she was the first stranger to ever broach me. She must have felt a bonding a moment because I have no other explanation for it.
She looks up at me and asks me, "Are you fuzzy?" I briefly pause unsure what she means and how to answer. I'm generally not ever in a situation where I am at a loss for words, but I gotta tell ya, she really threw me on that one. I was about to answer her question with another question, something along the lines of "Excuse me? What do you mean?," but I never got a chance to get it out. She reaches over to my neck, unbuttons the top button of the "puffy" shirt, tugs down a little on my t-shirt, and says to me, "Yep, you're fine."
Now, here's the deal. I can generally handle a lot of situations with calm, rational acceptance, but this lady has crossed so many lines, I couldn't keep up counting them. I just stood there in amazement -- no words, no movement -- I had no response at my disposal, nothing in my arsenal, nothing I could even manufacture for such an event.
As I stood there in disbelief, she actually goes over to the rack to pick out a couple more kilts that I might like and try on. She hands them to me with eager anticipation for me to come back from the dressing room. I was like her new little Barbie doll she could dress in a variety of outfits. I have never been so scared in my life.
I had to get outta there. I proceeded to make up some excuse for leaving; I can't actually remember what it was anymore, but I might have said that she had so many options, that I should bring my wife back with me. Are you kidding me? No way I'm going back there if psycho-saleslady is working that day. At least, if I do go back, I really will take my wife so she can make sure no one else in the store gets to see how "fuzzy" I am.
Will I ever get a kilt? Well, maybe. Maybe not. But it sure is interesting shopping for one.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Thorns and Blessings
I just spoke on the phone with Aunt Margo for an hour and 20 minutes, and boy does my ear hurt! But it was SO worth it to hear her warm voice and to share pieces of the puzzle. My goodness. What a puzzle the mentally ill can make of things.
One of the things I didn't know was that in 1978 or 79 my mom took an intentional overdose of sleeping pills, and that's when she was committed to the mental hospital the first time. (Dad says it wasn't enough to kill her but enough to be a cry for help.) I remember her being in what was then called the South Unit of Parkview Hospital. She assembled a pair of leather moccasins for me which I would later wear until they were too small. I'm glad I had no idea at the time that it was a suicide attempt. I'm also glad that she survived. I can only imagine the profound sadness and bewilderment I would've carried all my life if she'd been successful.
Last week I enjoyed lunch and games at Grandma and Grandad Sieber's house with Isaac and Allison. Grandma patiently taught Allison how to play Crazy 8's while Isaac and I played a game. Afterward, while the kids played outside in the little snow there was (especially compared to Wisconsin!) Grandma shared with me the details of an unpleasant development from the day before. She and Grandad had received a summons to appear in Family Court in Louisville, KY in 7 days. My mother filed a petition against her parents listing several charges which are too ludicrous to mention, but which give some insight into her delusions. But I'll save that for another time. When I thought about my elderly grandparents driving all the way down to Louisville to be wrongly maligned by fabrications, I felt indignant. I thought, she's gotta get by me first! Nobody messes with my grandparents! :) I left their house that afternoon with photocopies of their summons (summonses?) and my heavy heart full of prayerful snippets. One sentence prayers are usually all I can manage when it comes to my mother: Lord, help her. Open her eyes. Lord, keep her safe and other people safe from her. Lord, please get her the help she needs. Lord, I don't know what exactly to ask for her, so please just help her.
When I got to Dad and Diane's that night and told them about the summons, they reacted the same way I did. "She did what?? What is she thinking?" (That's always the question, isn't it?)
After I got back to Wisconsin a couple of days later, I thought a lot (ok, worried) about my grandparents and whether they would make the trip, whether they could handle the trip with Grandad's infirmities, and whether they could find a lawyer. I asked some Facebook friends to pray and was touched by the support I got from them and from my Aunt May and Aunt Marilyn on Dad's side. What blessings!
There were more blessings in store when I talked to Aunt Margo this afternoon. The one that almost knocked my socks off had to do with the lawyer. The first guy they tried was uncaring and very nearly rude. The second lawyer was on vacation, but her partner was available. Enter Chris Stewart, lawyer extraordinaire. Aunt Margo was able to get in touch with him almost immediately yesterday and he was very much 'present' and involved. I'm so glad! The court proceedings lasted 25 minutes this morning, which the lawyer will get G&G a videotape of. Omigosh, we'll get to see her on tape. I've been wondering what she looks like now. He said she was nicely dressed, articulate, and well-spoken. Then, the judge, who Aunt Margo praised for being "exceptional," told mom very tactfully that if she wants to leave the past in the past that she should do exactly that. The charges, which were too vague, where dismissed. Or, as Grandma put it, "They threw it out." I liked that. As they should.
In my frustration with Mom I sometimes think of her as a thorn in one's side. At times in my side, but most of the time in the sides of my grandparents. But when Aunt Margo described to me the love she saw in G&G's eyes when they talked about her, their oldest child, I was moved. My grandparents still love her. If only she could grasp that. Bless them, Lord, for their steadfast love.
One of the things I didn't know was that in 1978 or 79 my mom took an intentional overdose of sleeping pills, and that's when she was committed to the mental hospital the first time. (Dad says it wasn't enough to kill her but enough to be a cry for help.) I remember her being in what was then called the South Unit of Parkview Hospital. She assembled a pair of leather moccasins for me which I would later wear until they were too small. I'm glad I had no idea at the time that it was a suicide attempt. I'm also glad that she survived. I can only imagine the profound sadness and bewilderment I would've carried all my life if she'd been successful.
Last week I enjoyed lunch and games at Grandma and Grandad Sieber's house with Isaac and Allison. Grandma patiently taught Allison how to play Crazy 8's while Isaac and I played a game. Afterward, while the kids played outside in the little snow there was (especially compared to Wisconsin!) Grandma shared with me the details of an unpleasant development from the day before. She and Grandad had received a summons to appear in Family Court in Louisville, KY in 7 days. My mother filed a petition against her parents listing several charges which are too ludicrous to mention, but which give some insight into her delusions. But I'll save that for another time. When I thought about my elderly grandparents driving all the way down to Louisville to be wrongly maligned by fabrications, I felt indignant. I thought, she's gotta get by me first! Nobody messes with my grandparents! :) I left their house that afternoon with photocopies of their summons (summonses?) and my heavy heart full of prayerful snippets. One sentence prayers are usually all I can manage when it comes to my mother: Lord, help her. Open her eyes. Lord, keep her safe and other people safe from her. Lord, please get her the help she needs. Lord, I don't know what exactly to ask for her, so please just help her.
When I got to Dad and Diane's that night and told them about the summons, they reacted the same way I did. "She did what?? What is she thinking?" (That's always the question, isn't it?)
After I got back to Wisconsin a couple of days later, I thought a lot (ok, worried) about my grandparents and whether they would make the trip, whether they could handle the trip with Grandad's infirmities, and whether they could find a lawyer. I asked some Facebook friends to pray and was touched by the support I got from them and from my Aunt May and Aunt Marilyn on Dad's side. What blessings!
There were more blessings in store when I talked to Aunt Margo this afternoon. The one that almost knocked my socks off had to do with the lawyer. The first guy they tried was uncaring and very nearly rude. The second lawyer was on vacation, but her partner was available. Enter Chris Stewart, lawyer extraordinaire. Aunt Margo was able to get in touch with him almost immediately yesterday and he was very much 'present' and involved. I'm so glad! The court proceedings lasted 25 minutes this morning, which the lawyer will get G&G a videotape of. Omigosh, we'll get to see her on tape. I've been wondering what she looks like now. He said she was nicely dressed, articulate, and well-spoken. Then, the judge, who Aunt Margo praised for being "exceptional," told mom very tactfully that if she wants to leave the past in the past that she should do exactly that. The charges, which were too vague, where dismissed. Or, as Grandma put it, "They threw it out." I liked that. As they should.
In my frustration with Mom I sometimes think of her as a thorn in one's side. At times in my side, but most of the time in the sides of my grandparents. But when Aunt Margo described to me the love she saw in G&G's eyes when they talked about her, their oldest child, I was moved. My grandparents still love her. If only she could grasp that. Bless them, Lord, for their steadfast love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)