Wednesday, August 17, 2011

"All That Stuff That You Do..."

It may not come as a surprise that I love exercising - bike riding, swimming, boot camp and strength conditioning to be exact. I must have inherited it from my mother. She is affectionately known as "Miz Lee" at the local YMCA. She is active in the water aerobics class, silver sneakers (whatever that may be), and she does a lot of strength conditioning on the weight machines.  My late father exercised on rare occasions, and my sister is not quite as passionate about exercise as Mom and me. So, with all of her exercise; I'm thinking that "Miz Lee" is fairly strong.

Several weeks ago, I found Mom cleaning her house from top to bottom. She pulled out furniture, removed pictures from the wall, and pushed other household things out of the way while she cleaned every nook and cranny. The house became absolutely spotless.

After she was done cleaning and satisfied, "Miz Lee" looked at me and said, "Push the furniture back. Re-hang the pictures on the wall, and push everything back into its rightful place.
Studying her for a few moments, I countered, "All that stuff that you do at the Y; and you can't put all this stuff back by yourself?"
"We don't do that at the Y," she offered. "We don't move furniture and hang pictures," Mom continued, with a laugh.

Exasperated, I decided to obey my mother just like the good Book says. Weeks later, Mom was in the kitchen trying to open a jar of pickled beets. I believe it's her favorite vegetable.  I noticed her struggling to open the jar for what seemed like a few minutes. She wrapped a wet dish cloth around the lid and even tapped the lid against the kitchen counter. The jar still would not open.

Against my better judgement, I asked, "What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to open this jar of pickled beets to eat with my dinner," she replied.
"All that stuff that you do at the Y and you can't even open a jar?" I asked in amazement. "Give it here. I'll open it," I finally offered.
"You know what? I don't want it, now. I'll just put it back in the cabinet and will try to pry it open on another day," she stated.
Trying to suppress a hearty laugh, I said, "Well, with all of that weight lifting and water aerobics that you do, I was sure you could open a jar. Maybe you need to look at stopping your Y membership - if that's the case. Give me the jar; I can open it for you?"
"No, I'd rather starve, first," she replied, with a laugh.

And speaking of food and cooking that reminds me of Daddy frying fish when I was in junior high school. I'll tell you about that on next week - perhaps.

(My books and ebooks are available on My author's name is Charles Carroll Lee.)

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