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I know I told Dave I’d pick up rolls for dinner on my way home from the theatre, but I couldn’t do it. And he was being unreasonable.
“You don’t get it,” I said, “I have Dead Ancestor makeup on!”
“So what! It’s Food Lion.”
“I look like a zombie!”
He didn’t care. “You’re driving right past it.”
I glanced at myself in the rear view mirror. “There’s no way! I’ll scare away the customers.”
“Nobody will be in Food Lion this time of day."
Famous last words. I cursed him as I turned into the Food Lion parking lot. That was jammed with cars. Nobody will be in Food Lion. Right.
I found a spot and raced into the store.
Where I ran head on into a Mom with a little boy. The kid took one look at me and buried his head in his mother. “No Caleb,” I heard her say, “Monsters aren’t real. She’s just pretend.”
I put my head down, making a beeline for the bakery department, where I saw one of my neighbors. Luckily, she didn’t see me. Dodged that bullet. I grabbed the rolls and ran toward the checkout lanes which were overflowing with people.
Crap! There was that lady from church. I did u-turn, took a detour through the cereal aisle and finally found my way back to the front of the store.
I stepped in line behind a woman with about 50 items in her cart. “Oh my God!” she said when she looked at me. “What happened to you?”
“It’s Addams Family makeup,” I explained. “I’m a dead ancestor.”
“Yes you are,” she said. Then added, “You can get in front of me in line.”
I placed my rolls on the conveyor belt and the teenage Food Lion worker, let’s call him “Denzel”, looked at me and said, “How are you?” as he proceeded to scan my rolls.
Not the reaction I was expecting.
“Well, to be honest, I’m not feeling very well,” I said, and giggled under my breath.
Denzel said, “$2.49.”
Damn Denzel! I deserved a reaction and he was giving me nothing.
I slid my credit card into the reader and continued. “I mean, I’m really feeling sick.”
Denzel put my rolls into a bag, nonplussed.
“Really, really sick.”
Denzel handed me my bag. "Have a good day."
But I wasn't done. “In fact I think I died last week.”
"Yes, m'aam," was all he could come up with.
I was just about to ask him if he could give me a ride to my car in a grocery cart when I came to my senses.
I had to get home with my rolls.
I had a husband to scare.
It was a beautiful Friday. The end of a very long work week. With nightly rehearsals.
I was beat.
And ready for a weekend.
As I drove westbound on I-26, I slipped off my shoes, and turned on the soundtrack of The Addams Family.
I had to learn the words to “Move Toward the Darkness”. I had been fake singing at rehearsal the night before. And may have been caught.
I relaxed further by resting my left foot on the dashboard to the left of the steering wheel.
Which is not dangerous when you're as flexible as I am.
I listened. “Move toward the darkness. Welcome in your pain. Let each foreign forest. Offer you its rain.”
I stopped the CD, rewound and sang along.
I sang perfectly until, “Let each foreign object. Offer you its pain.” Crap.
Then I noticed the dashboard. There were two indicator lights on. OMG! There goes my weekend!!!
But I couldn’t tell what the lights meant. It wasn’t the tire light. I knew that one. Or the door ajar.
How would I ever learn the words to this stupid song if I had to take my car to the dealer???
I called Dave.
“I have 2 indicator lights on my dashboard.”
“Great. Which ones?”
“I don’t know! I can’t see without my reading glasses.” I squinted. “One looks like a car is skidding and the other is some kind of letters. ECO. What’s ECO?”
Dave, whose automotive IQ is possibly lower than mine, had no clue. We decided that I should drive the car home - carefully - and we’d take it from there.
I played Move Toward the Darkness and attempted, in vain, to learn the lyrics. Foreign forest. Foreign forest. Foreign forest.
I pulled into the garage singing, “Let each foreign forest. Offer you its pain.
No! RAIN!!!!”
I turned off the car and pulled out the 2013 Elantra Owners' manual. I put on my reading glasses and looked up "Indicators" in the index. I then turned to page 4-51.
There it was. ESC OFF indicator.
I read the paragraph. To turn off the ECO indicator, push the ESC OFF button which is located to the left of the steering wheel. Right next to the ECO button.
That I had inadvertently turned on with my foot.
I walked into the house singing, “Let each foreign forest. Offer you its rain!”
“What?” said Dave.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just fixed my car. By myself.”
And I continued. “Only at our lowest. Can we rise above.”
I was like a little kid again. Putting on make up. Dead ancestor makeup.
Because I have been cast as Dead Puritan Ancestor in Addams' Family.
I studied the YouTube video, setting it on the bathroom counter so I could follow the instructions to a tee.
It was much harder than it looked, but the results were amazing.
I look great, don't you think?
Say what? You seriously don’t believe it’s me? Shut up.
Of course it’s me.
OK. So it’s not me.
You know how dead people don’t look as good as live people? Well, when I got done with my dead ancestor makeover, I scared myself. Kevin looked at me, growled and went under the bed.
I asked Linda to take a picture of me. “OMG, Mom. Go away,” she said.
“If you wish to remain in my will, you will take my picture,” I said, handing her my phone.
She reluctantly took a few pictures.
"How do I look?"
"Back up," she said. I backed up several feet.
She took some more pictures and reviewed them. “Further, Mom,” she said.
I stepped backed again. She took some more pictures.
She looked at the pictures and shook her head. “Go down the street,” she said. “I’ll take the picture from my bedroom window.”
It was like that scene in Tootsie, when the director told the cameraman to back away from the shot and he said, “How far?” and the director said, “Cleveland”.
Linda probably would like me to back up all the way to Cleveland. (Or at least to Dayton, where I will attending my first ever Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop in a few weeks.)
I had an idea.
“How about I put on one of my super-cute polar fleece head bands. That will help, right?”
"Or a bag over your head,” she said. She’s a comedian.
I put on the headband. It didn’t help.
"Try your gloves,” she said, in a moment of pure genius, that she certainly inherited from me, despite the fact that she is adopted. I’ve never been prouder.
I put on my neon flashing gloves that I’d ordered on Groupon.
And it did help pull the attention away from my hideous make up job.
See?
Then I had a flashback to 9-month old Kimmy who discovered the jar of Desitin next her crib after waking up from a nap. I went in search of the picture. It was among several bazillion photos in the hope chest.
When I found it I was overwhelmed with a mixture of pride and jealousy.
Her makeup was way better than mine.
Next time I'm going to use Desitin.
