Freedom Place went decent. A little hackey sack, a little basketball, a little time chatting with people. There is a girl that goes there named… Hrm… What is her name? She looks like she’s got a healthy dose of Samoan blood in her, but that’s besides the point. She’s got some sort of personal vendetta against a guy that comes named Fred. He made some stupid little comment during a conversation that girl was having with someone else and she explodes on him. I’m not sure if she knew the pastor was behind her or not, but she totally dropped the F bomb. I’ve got to remember there is a car wash on Saturday. I’ve got to remember and I’ve got to go to that.
Afterwards, I biked up to Unizan. I love doing my banking while I stink. Sort of a pointless endeavor really, if I want to offend people with my stench, I should have went downtown. Taking a look around, I can see that I may not smell like roses, but I’m probably not the most offensive person that’s been in there today. After that, Wal-Mart. This makes the second time that I’ve gone in there with a backpack. I’m curious as to if that stirs up their security guys. I hope so. I bought white t-shirts (large), lava soap, Kelly Clarkson’s CD, and a small spindle of blanks. On the way home, the blanks dug into my spine most of the way. A normal person might have stopped and adjusted the backpack, but I’m a retard.
At home, mom told me we’d be leaving shortly after dad got home from work to go to Newark. I told her I’d get a shower, being stinky. Instead of the shower, which I really needed, I poured a giant bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats (or whatever that cereal is named) and poured a bunch of vanilla soy milk over it. We didn’t have any 2%. Results were good. Half way into the Simpsons (which I cried a bit during) my mom really started prodding me to get moving. So I hit the shower, and I got out in time to hear my dad being ticked off that we weren’t on the road yet.
Grandma was totally in the dark that she’d be the recipient of the Greatest Volunteer Ever Award, and in the dark that her family would be there too. Whoever was in charge of seating the collective four thousand years of experience had put her behind a pillar so she couldn’t see us come into the lavish Licking Memorial Hospital’s cafeteria, which had served twice baked potatoes and seriously questionable asparagus earlier. She later told us that she thought that the “girl” across the table from her should have got it. I think the “girl” was likely ten years her junior and still qualifying of the word “ancient”. So kindly Ms. So-and-so announced she was the winner, and some woman in a disturbingly yellow sweater shepherded us and the cardiac ward people into position for our presentation to grandma. Grandma stood up for her applause and her only words were, “I’m embarrassed.” After the old people were dismissed, grandma was ushered over for pictures. Up first were the cardiac ward people.
I ate a handful of pineapple chunks and strawberries I had found, abandoned by the old people who don’t know they need that sort of thing.
Mom and her sister looked on. Dad seemed to switch from mildly interested to bored a few times.
Mom gave me a sort of amused, yet annoyed look when she saw me with a glass of iced tea I had found. The woman who had decided that she didn’t like being on the business end of a camera so made her business being on the other side called the family in for the shot. I put down my tea.
Grandma started talking to some of her other volunteers. Mom expressed more surprise and annoyance when she noticed I was eating some “cheese cake” with strawberry topping. Outside it was raining. Mom volunteered me to fetch grandma’s car, and then later volunteered me to drive grandma’s car, with grandma, to grandma’s house. I expected to be volunteered. On the ride home, I told grandma I had bought a bike. She told me she had never learned to ride a bike. She’s like eighty or ninety, how can you miss the boat on the bicycling? If life was like the movies, I would have demanded to teach her how to ride a bike and we’d have a happy day in the summer time with a nostalgic sound track. But real life isn’t like that. Should I pop her up on a bike, I’m sure a drive back to that hospital would be in order about twenty minutes into the lesson.
Mom had to drop off some checks to someone that lived nearby, so we drove her there. While waiting, which dad was hating to do, I told him about the recent Grace experience. He didn’t seem to be overly interested in that topic. But than again, what do I expect? He probably hasn’t thought about the girl in six months. Ah heck, he doesn’t get worked up any more about much of anything, he seems rather sedate. That’s fine. He listened. When mom got back, she asked us this question:
Three men walk into a motel and ask for a room. The manager charges them thirty dollars for the room. Each man chips in his ten dollars and they go to their room. Later, the manager realizes that the motel is running a special on rooms, and should have only charged them twenty five dollars. As an honest man would do, he sends the bellhop [as all motels who charge thirty dollars a room have] with five dollars to give back to the men. On the way, the bellhop decides that since the men cannot split five dollars, he pockets two and gives three back to the men. Each man has now paid nine dollars for the room. Nine times three is twenty seven. If the bell hop pocketed two dollars, what happened to the other one dollar?
I thought about that one in silence for awhile. I came to terms with a suitable conclusion.