Lipstick: Don't leave home without it!

These past couple of weeks have been very stressful for The Fabulous Ma'am. Big Daddy gave us quite a scare with  a little cardiac issue. He is and always has been a Man Mountain. His strength is likened to Paul Bunyan sans Babe the Blue Ox.  So the idea of him being in hospital is jarring for all concerned.  Why is it  when anyone has a "procedure" the hospital insists you be there at 6am? In order to be on time, I am the designated morning driver so my sister, Boo, can get the kids off to school and then sit vigil with me and Tiny Mama.My brother, the Baby Jesus, shows up to look scared. He can always be counted on to show up at the hospital and pretend not to be concerned . Mr.Cool doesn't fool us for a second.

The morning of the procedure,I have to pick up Big  Daddy at 5:30. I roll out of bed, brush my teeth, brush hair,moisturize, throw on my Juicy Couture track suit, and out the door I go, pick up Pops and arrive at 5:50am. Dark o'clock. Valet park, go through admissions and then up to preop. I do all the paperwork because Big Daddy is busy with his Kindle, complaining that the British Army section is lacking in detail.He has his hearing aids in their usual place, his desk, so I answer most of the questions. He is consumed with his Hi-Tech Reader Rabbit.

The nurse comes in to do vitals and tells Daddy to give his  Kindle to his WIFE. Is she talking about me? Me with the porcelain skin, and newly grown Latisse eyelashes? Can't be. Then she looks at me and starts talking to me as if I AM the wife.Must think "Trophy Wife", so I correct her before this gets more awkward. I'm his daughter. So young it wouldn't even be legal to think he could marry someone as young as me. What is she thinking?It's early and the lighting isn't the best, so I get over it. Text my sister this info and we both LOL. The "procedure" doesn't happen until 11:30. We have been here for hours but Tiny Mama and Boo look concerned but perfectly put together. When I pass the big windows on my way for my umpteenth Hazelnut Latte, I catch a glimpse of a haggard looking woman in a Juicy Couture tracksuit. OMG! I hate when someone copies my favorite outfits. Then I realize it is ME. Silent scream. I was channeling Edward Munch. I grab for my lipstick as if that can fix the trainwreck that is me.

All goes well with Daddy, so twelve hours after I left my swankienda, I'm home again ready to collapse into my Temperdepic. Like Scarlett O'Hara, tomorrow is another day.Thankfully a Saturday. A day I can relax and enjoy now that my housekeeper, Josie Feliciano, is back in action.The plan for today is part of a weekend ritual with my friend ,Hunny. We usually spend Saturdays going to estate sales put on by our favorite Estate expert, Julie Bassett. Julie has the best stuff in the world but strict rules about who can enter her treasure trove.  No kids under 15 allowed. Now this usually is not an issue for us but things with Hunny have changed drastically lately. Hunny has a foster baby, Ginger Snap, who is the most wonderful little redheaded cherub. She has become an appendage of Hunny, so she comes along. Everywhere. Not wanting to risk getting on the No Trespassing List with Julie, we decide to shift work the sale. I go first, scout it out, then come back and grab the tot so Hunny can go through the tool shed (did I mention she is a building contractor?). I always have a picnic blanket in my car so if the opportunity for an impromptu outdoor experience presents itself, I am prepared. I take the blanket and find a nice spot on the lawn for baby and me to bond. As I lay back , my eyes close and I find myself dreaming that this is my baby and we can just stay here and play. The only sound I hear is Baby Girl cooing. A perfect moment. Until I hear rapid footsteps approaching. I have read about this. Criminals stalk attractive young women with beautiful babies and then stealing them, selling both cow&calf into slavery. Before I can go into praying mantis pose on the perpetrator, I see a senior citizen with a weiner dog on a leash peering down at me. "Are you alright, honey? Ma'am did you fall? People fall here all the time. We watch out for each other. This happens all the time."  I assure Weiner Dog Lady that we are just having a little blanket rest, not cardiac arrest. So much for my delusional day dream. I pick up Baby and blanket and head back to the Estate to wait on Honey. It occurs to me just then that we are in a retirement community. Weiner Dog Lady thought I was a neighbor gone down. Just how tired do I look?

We make our purchases and head for Tom Berengers 150 King Ranch. After we load up the must have antiques,I share with Honey my close encounter of the geriatric kind. Like a good friend does, she assures me these communities are rampant with senile dementia and there is no way anyone in their right mind could mistake me for a retiree.Still, I take the opportunity to let her drive while I look up the name of a prominent plastic surgeon and commit his information to speed dial. As we leave The Retreat I see an ambulance loading up one of my potential neighbors. Weiner Dog Lady knew what she was talking about.

I get home and take a look in the mirror. Nothing worse than a pale woman without makeup and I am living proof. To borrow a phrase from Steel Magnolias "There is no such thing as natural beauty." That evening, after I have enjoyed a long hot shower,facial, and eye cream, Trixie climbs into bed with me. This is when we have our best talks. She assures me that Big Daddy is going to be ok. That if the doctors saw him about to pass away, they would grab him back. She tells me that one day she is going to have to get a "procedure" and I'm just gonna have to deal with it. Trixie is a 45 year old woman in the body of a 9 year old. She is one of my great joys.  She reminds me that Big Daddy isn't even very old because GreatGrandma is already 87 and she isn't even dead yet. Such a comfort.

I ask Trixie if she thinks I am getting old. With the kindest, most sincere tone, she tells me "No ma'am! Your no where near getting old.  Well, maybe your neck is a little old". Not being rude, just saying.
They say that youth is wasted on the young. How true.
You will be glad to know Big Daddy is doing great. He got a tuneup, so should be good for another 100,000 miles. As for my neck, I have the call in.
I remain,
The Fabulous Ma'am
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