My mom brought home her nun friend from the old people’s place to join us for Thanksgiving, so the day was entertaining…and exhausting.
I’ve never brought Sister up before, but she’s a trip. Any time she leaves the home she gets a little excitable, especially when she gets into the wine, and Thursday was no exception.
Now there is no accurate way to describe her for a visual, but the closest I can come is to say she’s a 5-foot-tall stripped down version of Cinderella’s fairy godmother, but a little more troll-like.
Imagine darker gray hair, take out the wand, add a habit for certain situations and stick her on a motorized cart with a basket on the front. Sister has MS and although she can walk, she usually drives the cart up and down the aisles of the home with the resident dog securely placed inside the basket.
Anyway, Sister was waiting outside in her oversized sweatshirt, sweatpants and sandals with socks when we picked her up from the home.
The five minute car ride revealed that she recently met a 30-year-old who wasn’t married, which she—a nun—found odd. When it was pointed out that I was single and that Sister was a nun, this prompted her to declare that yes, she did actually know “shitload of ‘normal’ people” who weren’t married, like her dentist and that one secretary at the doctor.
As we walked into the house, we were also told that at some point we had to go to the store—on Thanksgiving— to get her a new electric toothbrush.
Enter wine—not converted from water, but alcoholic nonetheless.
Sister tried to situate herself on the couch. This resulted in her falling in the couch crack, flipping the recliner part of the couch open and almost flying heels over head over the back. Recovered, she took a sip of her “spirit” and engaged my mom’s husband in a conversation about cheese and Mexican saints.
I “helped” my mom in the kitchen, and by “helped” I don’t mean fisting a bird, but rather making sure she had a beer.
The meal itself was full of stories.
Some I had heard before, others I hadn’t about her traveling the world, accidentally legally changing her name to her “nun” name instead of the one she was given as an infant and how she knew she wanted to became a nun at 18, but that her mom wanted her to run the roads to make sure, at least going to prom with a boy.
“They were just one date things,” she said. “I never tried to get laid.”
“However,” she continued, taking a sip of wine and leaving a mashed potato ring on her glass. “Some of the girls from the school used to go to the sand dunes and lay around with the boys. I was sent with them, but I don’t like sand.”
At that she picked up the turkey leg and continued gnawing on it like a carnivorous Catholic cavewoman.
“Is this the Super Bowl?” she asked as I turned up the Thanksgiving football game between Detroit and Green Bay. “Did you know people bet on these things? I heard sometimes the players lose on purpose and throw the matches. Is that what the Lions are doing?”
The next 30 minutes were spent explaining football to the buzzed nun, who kept claiming that her “craziness” was due to the eight mini peanut butter cups she had before dessert and not the wine.
“Are we the yellow pants or the gray pants?” she asked as she propped herself back on the couch, sipping her wine through a straw. “Ooh! Who has the ball—the ‘G’ or the ‘D’? Are there any points out there? Can I take my wine home with me?”
She didn’t forget about the toothbrush.
After once again implementing our makeshift Catholic catapult to get the nun in the truck, we made our way to the store, which was 10 minutes from closing. Sister honed in on what she wanted, grabbed the $7 Oral-B model from the ad and engaged the cashier in a conversation about her tartar issues and the dinner she just had.
As were walking out, a couple of men were walking in, which prompted Sister to proclaim with a huff, “The store is closing in five minutes, good sirs. I suggest you either hurry yourself up or come back again tomorrow, as that poor man hasn’t even had dinner yet!”
“Can you believe how rude some people can be?” she asked as we boosted her back into the truck—again. “Now where are my peanut butter cups? Do you think the ‘Gs’ or the ‘Ds’ won the game? When can we do this again?”
Oh good lord.
Say a prayer for us all.
As determined by random.org, the winner of the free copy of the book or Amazon card and the chocolate pretzel treats is: Laura Grimes
Please send your address to me at Sunshineach@comcast.net and I’ll get that package right out!
For everyone else, now that you know you’re not getting a free copy, you can go here and find out how to order it for yourself in a couple different ways. It’s literally the cost of a movie ticket, and you don’t have to put up with people talking through the previews…or tipsy nuns.