Sharing some fun... "Call Me Maude"

 

    Retirement takes some getting used to, but I just think I might be getting the hang of it. The first few months felt normal, because it was summer time and teachers have extra time in the summers to enjoy a change of pace. The actual feeling of being retired didn't begin until August when everyone was going back to school, and I was not. I felt like I was perpetually playing hooky. It was weird to drive around during the day, shopping and meeting friends. Like I was on a never-ending mental health day. Then the holidays began and that took up some time. Now I no longer feel guilty to go to the gym each day at 8:30am for my classes, instead of after work. I have made friends, and can do as much or as little as I want with my time. I guess you could say I am finding my niche.

    Today I reopened a document on my computer that I began quite a long time ago. I like to dabble with writing and I had begun a story with an interesting character set in a retirement community. I pick up where I leave off every once in a while and then it gets shuffled to the back of my interests once again. I always thought I wanted to be a "real" writer, whatever that means, and share my silly stories with others. But instead they lie quietly in my computer. Today after opening it I thought, "well heck, why not share it on my blog."

So that's what I am going to do. I think I will put in out there in increments and see how it goes. Maybe it will encourage me to take it farther. Maybe it will just silently fade away. We will find out. If you like it, leave me a comment. I hope to put out a part each week for a while. If you have ideas for the story, share those too. Let's see what happens. Because....why not? So here goes, meet my friend, Maude. Enjoy!

"Call Me Maude"

Call me Maude and listen well my friend, this is the advice of a master.  Knocking back four “Dirty Dentures” during the Jeopardy trivia challenge at Paul’s Tavern is just plain dangerous at any age.  

Maude woke to a day full of promise and a head full of pounding pain. The sun was a little too bright and the birds just a wee bit too cheerful to suit her mood today. Rising slowly to her feet and shuffling cautiously to the front door with her head pounding out a staccato beat to her heart seemed to be a wicked and  bitter acknowledgement of the poor choices made the night before.  Being dumb when it came to alcohol didn’t stop at 20, or 30 or any other darn age. But then again, neither did having a good time with a bunch of friends.

Easing down onto the chair that was conveniently placed by the front door, Maude blindly patted the floor beneath the chair for her shoes.  The chair, a simple wingback, was an exotic floral brocade showing parrots and tropical flowers in a raucous pattern of jungle hues. She put it  there to put shoes on or take them off. Maude winced, grabbing her temples with one hand while continuing to search.

    ” I love this damn chair,” she groaned, “but today, I swear that the birds are not only squawking with          glee over my compromised, vodka soaked brain, but also mocking me. 82 years old, you’d think I’d         know better than to over imbibe, but damn those things are tasty! She was in a habit of talking to              herself, after living alone for so many years.

The doorbell buzzed. Loudly. It was a standard issue at Cottonwood Arbor Senior Living Community. The facility felt that most seniors were a bit stone deaf. Maude grimaced, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t, the doorbell was one size shrills all.  The sound set her brain into a new spasm of pain.

“Maude, are you ready? Let’s get our walk on.” 

She opened the door and in came Marcella, her walking outfit for the day putting the wingback  chair to shame.  Maude swore that her friend  found wilder clothes then any other person she’d ever known.  Fluorescent pink hibiscus with neon green leaves on a black background decorated the blouse and Marcella paired it with pink Bermuda shorts. Set against the espresso hue of her skin, she somehow  pulled it off and looked more exotic than gaudy.  No small feat in their small  Kansas town. 

 

“Marcella, I’m dying here. Do ya think you could tone it down just bit?”  

“It’s not any fault of mine that you had to make a fool of yourself last night with those lemon poppy seed martinis. Maude, you should have followed my lead and drank Shirley MacLaines, those spicy tomato juice drinks with just a few jalapeño slices mixed in are so much better for you.”

“Ugh. No Thanks.” Maude , as her stomach lurched a little thinking of any food, even tomato juice. 

  “Why do you call it a Shirley MacLaine?” 

Marcella chuckled just a bit, her deep throaty laugh sounding like warm maple syrup oozing down pancakes, all rich and smooth.

 “It’s because of the jalapeños, there are just enough to make it burn a little, so it keeps coming back to life through the evening. They come with a sidecar of Tums.   Now get up and let’s get going.  Walking is good for the soul, and it might just sweat out that pickled brain of yours too.”

Maude grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, her sunglasses off the counter, and her keys from the bowl by the door, then closed it softly behind her. 

 “Lordy, what a b-e-a-utiful day!” exclaimed Marcella as she opened the door of their building to enter the sidewalk toward the wooded walking paths.  

“Yes,” Maude groaned, “it’s amazing.” 

“Would you look over there.  Harold is just now teeing up on the first green. That man has got a mighty nice swing, and a few other ‘mighty nices’ too, mmm,mm.”

Maude was wide awake and walking, but that didn’t improve her disposition.  However, Marcella seemed happy enough for the both of them.  The walking paths were laid out under a canopy of cottonwood tree limbs, which created a shady retreat from the glaring summer sun.  Maude was thankful at least for the reprieve for her eyes.

They walked at a pace brisk enough to get a little cardio. Cottonwood Arbor Senior Living community was named after the very wooded area they were now walking through.  The town of Wheatbury, Kansas was a trendsetter in the realm of retirement living. A town of 50,000 people and 3000 of those residents resided at Cottonwood Arbor.  It was a residential utopia of gerontology advancement and all because Maude’s friends had a vision.

Now that the vision had become reality, all that was needed was a bit of overseeing of the investment and of course continued PR that came with protecting their assets and replacing residents as they kicked off.  Maude was pragmatic, she often told her friends…”we are old, after all.”

Her  mind was thinking about their  latest ad campaign as she “umm hmmed” to Marcella’s constant chatter.

  A brown ground squirrel came scampering across the path. He was dragging behind him an odd, stumpy, stick-like object.