There is a Seinfeld episode which has Kramer down in Florida with Jerry's parents. I'm not sure of the premise, but he's there, and he begins to wear the Florida uniform. I am Kramer this week. I'm visiting my mom, who is recovering quite nicely from surgery, thank you.
Did you know that Florida is still rather hot and sweaty and icky even in early December? I had forgotten. So when packing for my six days here, I didn't pack shorts. And I didn't pack flip-flops. And I packed all of one T-shirt.
Thankfully, my mother and I are about the same size. (Truth be told, the damn woman has lost enough weight due to the hospital stay and the operation to now weigh less than me.) [No, kids, it wasn't a tummy tuck!] Anyway, I digress. With no appropriate clothes in my suitcase, I turn to my mother's closet.
Saturday, my outfit could best be described as golf-appropriate. Light blue shorts -- a color I never wear -- and a coordinating striped shirt with that same light blue, some yellow and black. The only part of the clothes that looked like what I normally wear was the black. But I'm happy to wear the outfit rather than wear a freakin' sweater, for God's sake.
I caught myself in the mirror. "What the hell is my mother doing looking back at me?" I think. Yes, she's got more gray than me. And, yes, she has a few more wrinkles than me. Other than that, we're the Bobbsey Twins. We go out about our day. Young men call me "Ma'am" and help me find the straw for my Big Gulp. They open doors for me everywhere except where we go for the early bird special for dinner that night. Cruising along in her golf cart around the complex, old folks wave at the two of us, and I wave back. I would so fit right in here.
[I'm kidding about the early bird special. That was added for dramatic purposes.]
[Photo courtesy Jupiter Images.]