sphynx

I'm up in Atlanta for another week or so. No car most days, but I'm getting to visit with friends and family that I rarely see. I spent a couple of hours raking leaves in my parents rather expansive yard today. I only scratched the surface of them, but it gave me something to do outside and my puppy seemed to enjoy being able to run around outside in the big yard. She chased a few squirrels, dug a few holes, terrorized my mother's cat, and scattered a few nice, neat piles of leaves out for me. It made me wonder, what is the point of raking leaves? More are going to fall, the wind will scatter them back out (if a hyperactive little dog doesn't get there first), and they stay where they are and rot it fertalizes the soil.

I also went shopping this morning. It must be my grandmother's absolute favorite activity. The worse the the traffic, lack of parking, and crowd at the mall the better for her. She takes me to the mall and insists on buying me some horrible sweatshirt or a suit in a shade and cut that appeals to her, but that I would never want anyone to see me in every time I visit. It's how we spend time together and it always has been, but I've been rapidly accumulating boxes of clothes that are too short, too big, poor fitting, or just not my style in the least over the last couple of years.

This trip I had a brilliant idea and after some plotting with my mother to come up with the most tactful way to suggest it I hoped in the car ready to go shopping with more energy and enthusism than I've had toward the event in many years. This time I would NOT be returning home with a suitcase full of clothes that would simply never be worn, but that I couldn't bring myself to return or sell on Ebay. No, this time I had a plan. I would, instead, talk to her about my renewed love for making my own clothes and suggest we go to the fabric store instead of the mall. It seemed like a great idea. It was a wonderful theory, but the reality was not so wonderful. She was appalled at the idea that I should visit and she should send me home without the overflowing shopping bags of goodies that would most likely never see the light of day again. I do mean appalled too. She was truly disgusted.

So, once again, the credit card was brandished and a suitcase is filled. It's her money and it seems to make her very happy, so I suppose it doesn't hurt anyone. It seems so wasteful, but she is a grown woman and it is her money to do what she pleases with.

Maybe one day I'll convince her that I'd be just as thrilled to chat over coffee or help her bake a cake when she wants to do something together. Maybe, but I doubt it.