Not My Mama!

Some of you may know that, since moving home last year, I am able to spend almost every Friday morning with my Mom. Also, as you may know, our relationship is a mixed bag sometimes. To put it nicely. But for the most part, Fridays are "our" days together and they usually go pretty smoothly.

My mom is a 75 year old firecracker of an opinionated woman, she is of Cherokee descent (which has nothing to do with anything other than providing a description), and she seems to get smaller and smaller every day (height-wise). She doesn't back down from anything, and my brother and I  (Yes! Tinfoil Magnolia has a brother. Betcha' didn't know that, did you?) joke with her all the time about being so bossy. (Refer to Paragraph 1 re: mixed bag) So, anyway, she doesn't have a lot of hobbies and she doesn't do things like "normal" moms. Play bridge, go to girls' lunch, ladies bible class, or any of those things. I don't think she really even has any ladies who she would consider "girlfriends" which probably explains why she doesn't get the importance mine have in my life. She always made my dad and our family her first priority and really did everything with us. But let me tell you. That. Woman. Loves. Yard Sales. She loves going to them. She loves having them. She loves bargaining with people. She calls it her therapy.

So, the scene is this. My mom is about 5'2" if even that at this point. (seriously, she's shrinking, I swear) She drives a Dodge Ram extended cab pickup truck that I can barely get up in. One of those big-a, redneck, 4 door, loud muffler, huge-*ss pickup trucks. I mean, it is nice, nicer than my living room probably. And relatively new. And comfortable. She loves it, but she looks ridiculous driving it. Seriously. And since her cataract surgery she has taken to wearing those giant sunglasses, you know like the old folks in Florida wear? Yeah. Those. So one Friday back in June we were driving though a nearby town we like to frequent, around 7:30 am looking for yard sales. In the vehicle my husband has dubbed "the Hot Rod Dodge". You get the picture. So we're driving through a neighborhood and there is a stop sign at which she pauses and then continues to make a right turn. And then....are you ready? We see him. A bicycle cop.

A COP. ON A BIKE. PULLS OVER my 75 year old mother in the Hot Rod Dodge. HILARIOUS! Seriously? It was all I could do not to hop out of the truck and take a picture of this scene. His head barely came up to the window sill on that big, giant truck. It was so funny and I was trying so hard not to laugh. Immediately I had to text Hubby, who related it to his office mates, and from what I understand they were all in stitches. So this is the first time. In my adult life. I have ever seen my mom nervous and intimidated by someone. She was shaking! And calling him "sir". It was priceless. So the long and short of it is that he ran her plates, checked her license, and fussed at her but in the end gave her a warning and let us get back to our bargaining.

Flash forward to two weeks ago. I planned a day off with Hubby on a Friday and had to skip the day out with Mom. I didn't hear from her all weekend, and Monday I get a phone call.
Mom: "Well, I am not going yard sale-ing by myself again."
Me: "Why?"
Mom: **sigh**"Well, I got a ticket..."
Me: "MOTHER! A ticket?! What, did the bicycle cop get you?" (laughing)
Mom: "NO!"
Me: "Well, what happened then. Were you speeding?"
Mom: "No..."
(At this point I am beginning to understand how aggravated she always got with me when I was a teenager. And realizing she took notes.)
Me: **SIGH** "What happened?"
Mom: (quietly) "I ran a stop sign."
Me: (just being evil) "I am sorry? What was that? You did what?"
Mom: "I ran a stop sign. I didn't even see the cop, I don't know where he was sitting!"
Me: "Was it one of your famous rolling stops again?"
Mom: "Nope, I just didn't stop at all. Nothing was coming and I forgot."

Oh. good. lort! Ya'll... the Po-Po got my mama!!!

I will fast forward, to save you from a good 20 minutes worth of dialogue during which she describes every last scene in which she blows on through, how mean the state trooper was, where exactly he pulled her over and how he wrote the ticket. Then she says. "Well, he said I can go to traffic school. The tickets were over $350."
Me: (shouting) "THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS?????? For a STOP SIGN are you KIDDING ME???? Wait....tickets. With an "s"? Whadjya do, slap him, Zsa Zsa?"
Mom: "Well, there was the one for running the stop sign.....and one for not having my insurance card with me. We get those every six months, I don't know how they expect you to keep up with it, honestly!"
Me: (holding the phone away from my face and looking skyward with mouth gaping open) "Yeah, that's a lot to keep up with, allright. Twice a year and all."
Mom: "Well, they said I could call the court and provide proof of insurance and they would take that one off."
Me: "Mmmmm.....hmmmm....I would imagine so." (wondering how much that would knock off and thinking how I need a manicure and I am so done with this phone call)
Mom: "But Marsha?"
Me: "Yes, Speedy?"
Mom: "I don't want to drive down there again, will you drive us this Friday?"

My life, honestly...