Over the Fourth of July weekend, my mom and dad were riding with me in my car. We were having a very nice conversation when my mother asked me a peculiar question:
“Do you have any hand cream in your car?”
“Hand cream? Like lotion?”
“No. Surprisingly I don’t.”
“Well my car has hand cream.”
“I also don’t have shampoo, conditioner or baby powder in here. Because this is the car, not the bathroom linen closet.”
“Do you have an umbrella?”
“Yes. I have three. And a bible – a kid’s bible, but it is there if you need inspiration. We leave it here because Mrs. Shuman gets very mad if Michelle shows up for Sunday School without her bible, and although I believe us to be good people, it is not something I am prone to remembering on my way out the door on a Sunday morning. So we just leave it in the car.”
My dad is a preacher. He’s probably wondering why we aren’t using that well animated epistle on a Tuesday.
“I send her to get it when we have weekday bible emergencies.”
The next day, we took my dad’s minivan to the lake to see my brother. I got curious, so I opened one of two large glove compartments on the passenger side of the car.
“That’s your mother’s,” my father explained.
And there before me was a mini Rite Aid.
Three pairs of reading glasses, Gas X, a baggie full of toilet seat covers (would she really come back to the car after going into a restroom and pulling down her pants to get one of those?), a miniature umbrella (in case she needed to sneak one into the White House on a rainy day tour perhaps), several packages of Lance Nabs (their half-life is decades), salt, pepper, creamer (with stirrer, because McDonald’s is cutting back), a hair pick (for maximum teasing), a rain jacket (that was my dad’s), a small, black clutch with rhinestones on it (you never know when you’re gonna get that unexpected call to attend a formal event), a fanny pack, pliers, M & Ms, pens, pencils, a typewriter (exaggerating!), and of course… hand cream.
That is not all, that’s just all I can remember.
I have never seen so much stuff crammed into one little 12” x 6” pocket.
She really ought to pack the next rocket going to the space station. They would never want for anything.