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Thursday, January 26, 2012

To die dressed up

I come from a long line of stylish relatives on both sides of the family tree. Grandmothers who wore gloves, sweet ladylike dresses and pumps. Grandfathers who knew how to wear suits and fedoras elegantly.  So, a year ago, my mother called to tell me she wasn't feeling well. I was so concerned I rushed over to her house to take her to the hospital. I arrived thinking she would be sitting on a sofa in sweatpants with messy hair.  So wrong. Though she looked a bit ill, she was wearing an elegant pantsuit, leather gloves, high-heeled boots and lipstick. 

I was puzzled.

"Mom, I thought you weren't feeling well?" I asked. 

"I feel awful," she barked, then paused. "I'm going to die dressed up, Joy."

There, I get it honest.

2 comments:

  1. I love it! And I'm sure your mother got better service (more attention) from doctors because she commanded it, by being so well put together. It reminds me of my own 74-year-old mother who recently broke her left arm. Her big concern? Buying a blow-dryer with a round brush attachment so she could blow out her perm with her one good arm. I've got to respect that. When the instinct to put your best foot forward leaves you--you're through!

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  2. Thank you, Maggie G. We've learned from the best!

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