Ulterior Motives and Conspiracy Cake
I confess. When
I travelled to Denver recently to visit my Hair Stylist daughter and her
husband, I had one ulterior motive. Because I was arriving only two days after
Mother’s Day, I was pretty confident that Emma would offer to trim my wayward
locks. Unfortunately, the plan backfired.
One Ulterior Motive
She noticed
my messy coiffure immediately.
“Are you growing your hair out, Mom?”
“Yes, I am.” Pause ... Pause ... “But it does need a trim.” Eyebrows raised to question mark level.
“I KNEW you would come out here wanting me to cut your hair! I don’t do that cut anymore!” Voice raised to annoyed level.
“Oh, never mind, Emma. I’ll get it cut when I get home. No problem.” I know when to back off. Sometimes.
“Are you growing your hair out, Mom?”
“Yes, I am.” Pause ... Pause ... “But it does need a trim.” Eyebrows raised to question mark level.
“I KNEW you would come out here wanting me to cut your hair! I don’t do that cut anymore!” Voice raised to annoyed level.
“Oh, never mind, Emma. I’ll get it cut when I get home. No problem.” I know when to back off. Sometimes.
Bad Hair Day
Emma was the
perfect hostess as the week went on, generous with her time and attentive to
our every need and desire. Jazz Festival, Knitting Club, Dining Adventures,
Museum of Art, Mother-Daughter Facial and Pedicure, Swimming, Dog-Walking,
Craft Breweries, Ice Cream Tasting Party, Bad Movies… The list is endless.
Ice Cream Flight: The Creamery
As we
prepared for our Sunday trip to Ikea, Emma mentioned that her friend was
coming with us.
“Kaytee's
coming over a little early so I can trim her hair.”
“WHAT!!??” I responded, outraged, eyes drilling into Emma. “Trim her hair!!!???”
“I owe her, Mom. She kept our dog when we went to Florida last month.”
“You owe me LIFE, Emma!” I retorted, recalling 14 hours of labour and 10 months of Hair School.
“It’s just a little trim, Mom. Won’t take long.”
I let it go. Sort of.
“WHAT!!??” I responded, outraged, eyes drilling into Emma. “Trim her hair!!!???”
“I owe her, Mom. She kept our dog when we went to Florida last month.”
“You owe me LIFE, Emma!” I retorted, recalling 14 hours of labour and 10 months of Hair School.
“It’s just a little trim, Mom. Won’t take long.”
I let it go. Sort of.
Hair School
Over an Ikea
lunch of poached salmon and Conspiracy Cake, Emma discussed the patio
furniture she was considering buying for her back yard.
“I really like it, but I don’t know if I should spend all that money right now. We’re going to that wedding next month, and we were away last month…”
Without thought or consultation with Tom, I blurted out, “We could buy that for you. You’ve entertained us all week. It can be our hostess gift.”
Tom, Mr. Generous, looked at me, Mrs. Tightwad, with his mouth open. Speechless, he nodded his head in agreement.
“I really like it, but I don’t know if I should spend all that money right now. We’re going to that wedding next month, and we were away last month…”
Without thought or consultation with Tom, I blurted out, “We could buy that for you. You’ve entertained us all week. It can be our hostess gift.”
Tom, Mr. Generous, looked at me, Mrs. Tightwad, with his mouth open. Speechless, he nodded his head in agreement.
Tom
Barb
Emma responded to my offer without hesitation, “Oh, that would be nice,
Mom. Thanks.” Emma and Kaytee looked at each other. (Conspiratorially??)
“Wait a minute,” I started. “Did you two have this planned?”
Kaytee shook her newly trimmed blond tresses as she popped another forkful of Conspiracy Cake in her mouth.
Emma smiled slyly. “No, Mom, not at all. And I’ll cut your hair when we get home.”
Later that afternoon, Tom assembled the patio furniture as Emma cut my hair.
“Wait a minute,” I started. “Did you two have this planned?”
Kaytee shook her newly trimmed blond tresses as she popped another forkful of Conspiracy Cake in her mouth.
Emma smiled slyly. “No, Mom, not at all. And I’ll cut your hair when we get home.”
Later that afternoon, Tom assembled the patio furniture as Emma cut my hair.
Denver Haircut --- Pricey
Time with Emma --- Priceless
What's in a Conspiracy Cake?
...Until Next Time...
