It's the Little Things

When I was a kid  my mother had an absolute fetish about The Crescent. It was an upscale department store that was an institution in Spokane for years. It was eventually taken over by Marshall Fields.

Mom loved to shop. Going downtown was an event. Hair was combed, clothes were ironed, faces scrubbed. Those dressed in Sunday best only, need apply. Heaven forbid she should be seen with ratty children. It was just not done. If we were not well turned out, we were not allowed to accompany her. And everyone wanted to go because the shopping trip always ended (for well behaved children) at The Crescent's luncheon counter which served fancy, delicate sandwiches, and sumptuous desserts.

As the late 60's & early 70's rolled by with their bell bottomed jeans, torn knees, scruffed boots, long hair and peace, love-dove attitude, Mother was often distressed by us but always stood her ground. We were an extension of her, and people would make the wrong assumptions if we did not present ourselves well. We learned to conform.

Flash forward several years. I had been working in the yard. I was hot, sweaty and had my gardening grubbies on.  Farm Boy needs to run into town. Just K-Mart he says. "Come and keep me company." I decline. I have more work to do and I don't want to have to change and clean up. "Oh for heaven sakes, you can just stay in the car. I'll only be a minute." Fine. So I hop in. We get there and they're having a parking lot sale. Farm Boy says, "Why don't you look around. It's hot in the car and there is hardly anyone out here and you won't see one person you know."

It is hot. Really hot. "Okay hurry," I say, "and I'll just be right here, waiting for you."

Twenty minutes and six people from church & work later...

Did I mention I was reallllyyyy hot & grubby?

Shades of "It's just not done," echo in my ear.

This morning, I stop at the store to pick up some items for a dinner I will be taking to a sick friend tonight. Standards for appearing in public have been relaxed severely since I was a child but I still do a quick inventory. Clothes clean? Check. No holes or tears? Check. Hair combed? Check. Enuf makeup on so we don't scare people? Check. Teeth brushed? Check.

Okay, off I go.

And I return to the van with my purchases. Get in, adjust the mirror before I back out.

Great...

It sure would have been nice if I'd seen that booger before I went in.
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