This past Saturday found Carla, Dulcie, and me doing some shopping. Not serious shopping, mind you. I tagged along to get out of the house and ended up with a few good things because I smart shop. We didn't hit too many places because it was just so dang crowded where we went. It was decided that from now on, we would go on a week day in order to find a parking place and to be able to see more stores. As it was, we only hit three places. Four if you count where we ate.
Ahhh...where we ate. What good food this turned out to be. I am pretty sure we'll head back to this place as there were other things we need to try on the menu. As we were sitting there, I found myself humming along with the music playing over head. 80's music? Awesome! Dulcie and I had to sing along with "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince at one point. I got to thinking then. Right now, my age group is considered the major consumers in this country. We're the 35-45 age group with kids, mortgages, hopefully good jobs, and are established with our fannies firmly planted in the job chair of our choice. I guess that means we get to hear "our" music when out and about shopping. Is it supposed to take us back to that time in our lives where we were care and free? Because I'm here to tell you. I didn't have money back then. I worked, but that money bought my lunch at school, put gas in my car, and paid for my weekend. I guess hearing the Memory Music is a reward for making it this far in life.
My next thought after thinking about this and sending a text to my email so I wouldn't forget to mention this?
What are we going to do in twenty years when we have to listen to my oldest daughter's music? I can hardly stomach most of it now.
I just know I want to be around so I can go in public with her and her kids and watch them get ten kinds of embarrassed because their Mama is doing a small chair dance while waiting on food to get to the table.
Quick note about Mama. She is home and doing well. I speak with her every day and she sounds wonderful. I find myself wanting to call her over every little thing that happens or that I think of. Kind of how I was when I first moved here...away from her. I have to stop because it'll end up getting all over her nerves eventually. That's just my Mama, Internets. Those couple of days I couldn't call and talk to her were very hard for me. I kept thinking.....there will come a time when I won't be able to call her. I'm just not ready for that. Me and God are square. He knows how I feel because I sure talked to Him enough about it.
P.S. I'm still ticked about the gas issue.