The Ribbon of Road Ahead

Sometimes circumstances arise that allow other  people to show their true colors, and I mean in a positive way.   The first group in mind are in the good friends category. 

Charlie  had to go out of town for a few days. He knew he was leaving me at a time I was not doing well with my symptoms of Parkinson’s.  So he arranged for a bit of supervision for his wife.  The people he asked  were delightful ladies about my own age, retired and probably a little bit bored.   Those he chose were friends I had not seen in quite a while. 

Not really thinking about having company, I had stacked up projects on the dining room table.  My doctor had changed my prescriptions, so I had my cookie tray sorting sheet, a half a dozen pill bottles and the new 5 times a day pill sorter.  Then there was  big box of art supplies.  I have now collected numerous paints and drawing pens, three sketchbooks, a package of cards and envelopes and book marks.  As soon as I get everything put in the box, I start digging through it for what I need for the next drawing.  I have pens all over the house, the majority have lost their lids and dried out.

Then there  are the clothes.  I dislike doing the laundry more than anything.  We quit folding underwear and socks years ago and now hang our  t shirts.  What do we do with the pants and shorts?  Mine get folded neatly (not by me)

 Then of course the shorts I want are  on the very bottom of the stack . I try  to pull them out the whole stacks falls to the floor.

I felt no guilt for only completing 1 of the 4 projects.  I had guests to entertain (even though they were supposed to be entertaining me)

I had to schedule the visits as they all called within a few minutes of each other. That was fine and all were on the best visiting behavior. One brought asparagus, another took me to dinner and yet another brought knitting and we sat  in the rocking chairs knitting  and sketching.  They all brought a spirit of  helping.

Today I had my first massage in at least 18 months.  What a good massage therapist can do for you when your body is a mess!

Charlie dropped me of picked me  up in our new to us 2017 Ford F-150.  With his foot on the pedal and his thumb  on the starter button, he expected the roar of the engine coming back to life  Nothing.  Nada.  Nope.  The FOB battery died. First Charlie called friend Dave to see if he could come fetch me and the $200 of groceries he had purchased while I was  getting the massage.   Charlie called the Ford garage.  It was after 6 pm, hopeless time to get into the garage.   A salesman happened to answer.  He gave instructions to pull the cup holder out of console of the pickup and we would see a little slot to put the fob in.  The truck would start. This sounded a bit far fetched.

I pull out the manual from the glove box while Charlie listened to the salesman instructions. When neither of the us could come up with the answer  the salesman said “I’ll be right there:”  He must have lead-footed it from the dealership because he truly was right there  Dave showed up, and loaded me and the groceries in the car, took me home, unloaded the groceries into our house and was gone.

The salesperson showed us the little slot in front of the cupholders that the key fob is dropped into.  Charlie followed his instructions, and he heard the  roar of the engine. He stopped at the hardware store on the way home and replaced the batteries in the fob.

The ladies could have all had things to do on a beautiful weekend.  They gave that up to visit and call me.  Good Friends.

I am pretty sure the young salesman from the FORD garage  doesn’t regularly go on service calls to help customers. He is the champion of the story by far. Good service.

And Dave can be my chaueffer any time.