In Which I Switch Gears at 20% and Tag Along With Dad

I arose from repose at the ripe hour of 9 o'clock this morning and got dressed, hearing voices downstairs and feeling anxious lest I miss that important hour of the day when the Walters family has a moot and plans for the day start piecing together. (It's nothing intentional or planned, understand...information just happens to get exchanged sometimes.) If I miss that crucial time, I feel kind of disoriented for the day.

While I was still fussing with my jeans, I heard Dad calling me, and bleary eyed, I went out to the landing. "Do you want to go to Tyler with me?" he asked. "I'm leaving in 15 minutes." My dear brain was still only running on 20%, but I managed to grasp what he said, and mumbled an affirmative.

It was pretty impressive, ya'll! I totally switched gears in a matter of seconds (while my brain was only functioning at 20%) and kicked into "go" mode. I showered neglectfully, dressed in something else, applied a little goop here and there as needed, and hurried downstairs. Dad had poured some grapenuts into the cruddy old blue mug with whales on it that I secretly like (oh well, now it's not a secret!), so I added milk and a teaspoon of sugar and headed out the door with a kiss from Mom.

We went to Tyler for Dad's doctor apointment, a checkup on his back required for Social Security purposes. I read World Magazine in the waiting room. The doctor congratulated him on getting Social Security and said "nothing new."

Then, we went to Barnes & Nobles. Why I keep letting this happen to me, I can't say, but once again I went into a book store with money, and...

I sat reading a book called Reaching Out, by Henri Nouwen, and when I had read maybe a third of it and had that sensation of someone-telling-me-what-I've-been-thinking-all-my-life-but-didn't-know-how-to-say, I thought "maybe I should just buy it." So I did. I have so many questions about life right now and I'm searching out so many things, I almost feel like these books I keep coming across are part of my "education." This living by faith thing is so crazy. I'm just trying to learn to listen to God's promptings and "buy" when He says "buy". So far He's blessing it!

It was past lunch time, but we hadn't eaten, so we stopped on the way home in Gladewater at a tiny restaurant called "Don Omar's" It's a little family business (I'm a bit partial to those!) and they have great Mexican food for a great price.

Our (at least my) favorite part about the restaurant is the waitress, though. She's eight years old, and a very charming hostess! She helps her mom translate orders. When she got us settled in with our food, she came over to our table and stood there in her yellow shirt and flouncy denim skirt. She regarded us with big brown eyes, serious but perfectly self-assured. She addressed my dad.

"So, is this your granddaughter?" Looks of mild amusement.

"No, she's my daughter."

"Does he look old?" I broke in, laughing. She nodded her head emphatically while poor dad protested. I mean, he's got a little gray up there, but he does not look old to me. But I guess when you're eight...

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Daisy," she said pertly.

"That's a pretty name," I replied, (what an original remark; don't you love small talk?) I was actually thinking how cute it was that she was named that because it fit her. Her shirt was sunshiny looking, and I wondered how such dark eyes could look so bright.

She did her job thoroughly. Every few minutes she'd return, flouncing.

"Need anything else?" she'd ask.

"Just a bigger stomach," Dad said. Mmm. Good food.