“Seattle Seahawks poncho? $65. Denver Broncos? $1
“Cigars? Want to buy some cigars? You don’t smoke? Well today’s the day to start.”“Are you looking for me? You found me. For movie stars, half price.”
Dad, mom, John and I enjoying the sunset at Malacon, Puerto Penasco, Mexico
Mom: Are you going to get a foot massage on the beach tomorrow?
Shelley: No need. I’ve got my personal masseuse, John. He’s amazing.
John: Why thank you.
Mom: Do you ever give John foot massages?
Shelley: Euhhhhhh. God no. That’s gross.
Shelley: Gross. Running your hands over calloused, corned, sweaty, stinky hairy feet that may or may not be clean? Getting your fingers stuck in toe jam? Blechhh!!!!
Mom: That’s ridiculous. John gives you foot massages all of the time.
Shelley: That’s because John derives incredible satisfaction out of giving me foot massages. I wouldn’t. Trust me on that.
Mom: I give your father foot massages.
Shelley: That’s very nice of you.
Mom: Would you give me a pedicure and a foot massage when I get so old I can’t do my own?
Shelley: Probably not. But I’d hire the best people in the world for you. Money would not be an object.
Mom: But I don’t want those people to take care of my feet, I want you to.
Shelley: Ak. Ak. Ak. I’m really sorry, but I can’t.
Mom: What about those ladies on the beach? Maybe they don’t want to touch other peoples’ feet either. Maybe they think it’s gross too but it’s the only way they can make ends meet.
Shelley: You’re right. I haven’t thought of it that way. Maybe I’ll just give them money.
Mom: So, you’ll do my feet?
Shelley: I love you, but I’m still not going to be your personal chiropodist.
Mom: It’s important to me.
Shelley: Still a “No.”
Mom: You’re being unreasonable.
Shelley: Mom, I’m sorry this is so important to you, but I can’t. Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. When you get to the point where I need to wipe the dribble off the side of your mouth, I’ll do it. Wait. Ak. Ak. Ak. I can’t do that either. Not for you. Not for John.
Mom: Did you hear that, John? When you get older, Shelley won’t wipe the side of your mouth. What do you think of that?
John: It’s OK. I’ll have Helga, the Swedish nurse, by then.
Helga, according to John
Helga, according to Shelley
Shelley: All settled then?
Mom: I just don’t see…
Shelley: Mom, I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t insist that tomorrow John and I accompany you from Puerto Penasco to the Mexico- US border and then turn around and come back to Puerto Penasco.
Mom: We don’t need you to babysit us.
Shelley: It’s not babysitting. I want to make sure nothing happens to both of you. That’s what children do who love their parents.
Mom: What about my feet?
Shelley: Look. Spencer’s (My youngest brother) coming to visit you in a few days, he’d love to handle your feet.
Spencer, a few days later, after hearing what he’d love to do:..
Ha! Ha! I kid. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
Also, if my mom really really wants me to rub her feet, I’d do it. After all she might have changed a few of my poopy diapers at some point.
John’s nurse: www.adweek.com
Shelley and John