This is the story of the toaster, jogging stroller, and grandma's house. All day long I've been thinking about blog material, and it came right to me in the form of Momma. Okay, let's start at the beginning...
Gpa was subbing at my school today. (Yes, my 76 year old grandpa is a substitute teacher. The students love him. I think it's because his hearing is going, so he can't hear them talking while they work. But hey, ignorance is bliss.) He always stops by my office when he's in the building and today he mentioned that Gma needed her toaster back because a family friend is coming in town, and she likes toast.
Why did I have Gma's toaster? Well, I had a gaggle of girls staying with me for a few weeks, and they also like toast. The problem is I don't have a toaster. I know. How does a girl make it to the wise old age of 27 without a toaster? Simple. She's never had a bridal shower, and she doesn't eat much toast because bread goes bad quickly in a house of one girl and one huge dog. So I borrowed Grandma's toaster, and kept it for the month, but now she needed it back.
So tonight I set out to return the toaster to Gma. Well, grandmother's house is exactly one mile away from mine. (Not that I've MapQuested it or anything) It's close enough that I try to walk when I can, but it's a bit far sometimes. Especially when you have a toaster to return. And not just any toaster, this is a stainless steel 4-slice toaster. But I really wanted to walk because it seemed like a nice day. (In actuality it was a bit hot, but that's another story.) So I figured out that I could just put the toaster in my jogging stroller. (Which worked out really well. But I did put a baby blanket over it to avoid stares from the neighbors.)
Now, why does a single, 27-year-old girl have a jogging stroller? Well because she has a gma that found one at a garage sale, and nephews that used to live right up the street, so it came in handy from time to time. But this story isn't about the jogging stroller, nor the toaster. It isn't even about grandma's house. It's about Momma.
You see, when I got to grandma's house, my mom was there. (Gma's house is like my family's Grand Central Station. You never know which cousin or aunt or random person you are going to find there.) Momma was quite concerned about the fact that I had walked an entire mile in the heat, so she offered to drive me back home. And I was going to take her up on it because I'd already done 2 miles on the elliptical, and heaven knows that too much exercise is bad for the soul. (That and my allergies were driving me insane.)
But there was a problem. I don't know how to fold down a jogging stroller. No body ever taught me that skill, so I couldn't get the stroller into Momma's car. By this time, the sun was beginning to set, so it was quite a bit cooler, and I'd eaten a banana, so I was good to go. I told Momma that I would just walk the mile back to my house, and life would be good. No big deal.
Except for the fact that my mom is a stalker. And had to follow me the entire way. With the window down. Talking about the most random things from the election and Paul Ryan being cute, but married with three kids and Catholic, or what my plans were for the evening, or about how she wouldn't be able to rest until she knew I was home safe. At one point she offered to just push the stroller, so that I could ride with her. Mind you, I was not asking her to give me a ride at this point. In fact, I was about 2 blocks from my house. But she insisted on trying...
It didn't work out very well, but it did make me laugh, and I'm sure if my neighbors weren't already talking about the crazy red head pushing a toaster around like a baby, they were talking about the crazy lady in the white SUV pushing a stroller around while driving. What can I say, this acorn didn't fall far from the tree.