Mom Day today. I took her to see her friends from her previous retirement home in Tacoma. She has a sassy new 'do. It's curly and only 80% gray. Mom said it makes her feel "kicky":

She paid extra to have it next day aired to get it here in time to wear for the visit. She's not fooling me. She did that so she wouldn't disappoint her fans. The ladies at the old retirement home treat her like a rock star. They vie to buy her a lunch ticket (today's lunch was beef aus jus, or as my mom says it "beef ass juice"). They fight over who sits across from her at the jigsaw table. They even tape up a little Welcome Betty banner over the bingo sign.

So with all this good will and celebrity coming my mom's way, I was surprised to find that she was in a big ol' crabby mood. I asked her what was wrong. It boiled down to two things.

First, she's irritated at a new tenant. She thinks Thelma is making fun of her accent. "Every time she walks by me, she has this stupid smile on her puss and says 'HOWDY'. Like I'm gonna think that's all cute or something. I've worked hard to tame down my accent! I don't say fixin' to, or all y'all, or supper, or icebox very much anymore! She's just a Yankee snooty!" I asked her if Thelma did anything else rude or if it was just her choice of greeting. Turns out it was just the howdy thing. I asked mom if she thought it could be a reference to her doormat. She told me not to be dumb, Thelma didn't say "welcome" to other residents. Oh well, I guess you just can't cure a Yankee snooty.

My Mom's doormat, poor misunderstood snooty yankee

The second reason my mom was crabby was lack of sleep. When she mentioned this to me, it made me very worried. We just went through a major health crisis with her, and I thought this might be the first yellow flag of another one. She told me she's been getting up at six in the morning. The thought of a non-job holding person getting up at this hour is horrifying to me. I quizzed her up and down about her state of health, about the myriad of reasons that might propel someone to get out of bed at that hour. She was quite touched and answered all my medical questions thoughtfully. Then she told me that she sets the alarm to get up at that hour. WHAT!? "You mean you could sleep later, but you set the alarm? Why? Why would anyone do that?" She answered, "So I can be first to get the papers." Yes, it's now THE PAPER WARS.

When my mom was ill last winter, there were several ladies that would bring her paper to her door in the morning. She was very grateful to them. I was very grateful to them. As she began to get stronger, she became not as grateful to them. Now it turns out that she's downright ungrateful to them. I would put this off to my mom being crotchety (she's really not), but it seems like there's some kind of unspoken competition between the ladies on her floor. Mom told me that it use to be if you went to get your paper before ten in the morning, you were all good. There might even be a chance that you could combine going to get the paper time and waiting on Hannah Montana (aka the mailman). Then Margaret got the larger sitdown walker with the huge basket and she started collecting everyone's paper and delivering them around nine. Well, that just wouldn't do. So everyone started to get their paper at about 8:30. Then Bitty started to collect everyone's paper at eight because she wanted to show off her new hip. Bob started to get not only the first floor papers but also the uppity people on the second floor's papers at seven. So now the only way you can be first to pick up everyone's paper, is if you get up there at 6:15. I asked her why she just didn't go with the flow and let her paper be delivered to her door. She just huffed "Ho, ho, ho." in that way that seniors have to let you know that you're still a little kid in their eyes.

For the record, if it happens that we're ever at the same retirement home, please feel free to bring me my paper.