The Godfather, Clemenza, Betty and Bluefield

I have to write a few more things about the last post. This woman who said I was in her seat uses a walker. All I heard was this gravelly, angry voice behind me saying, "You're in my seat." She was mad about it, too. I figured I was the one who would look like the jerk if I held out, so I gave in. I actually feel like calling and explaining to her, for future use, that if she had just been pleasant, or polite about it, everyone would willingly give her their seat. This happened on Sunday, but I still feel a sense of outrage. I might have to call her just to feel better. Dad keeps telling me not to take things so personally, but I do. I can't help it. I take everything personal. Like God.
I'm just kidding. That's a line in the Godfather that I love. I'll quote it for you. "Don't let anybody kid you. It's all personal. Every bit of (blank )every man has to eat every day of his life is personal. They call it business. Ok. But it's personal. You know where I learned that from? The Don. My old man. The Godfather. That's what makes him great. The Great Don. He takes everything personal. Like God."
This is what happens when you are married to Mike. Suddenly all things in life are connected to The Godfather.
Heidi and I actually read The Godfather when she lived here. One of my favorite characters was a very minor, background character named Clemenza who loved his car so much that he sometimes sat in it for an hour when the weather was good because it was more pleasant than sitting in the house. This reminded me of my little red car, that Catherine named Betty. Poor Betty. I felt just like Clemenza and really would go and sit in the driveway with the top down and the sun shining with a big cup of ice. I still miss that little car. I feel just like Grandma Renouf who all her life missed her little red mustang.
One more thing about this cantankerous woman. Tracy is probably sick of me writing/talking about her, but I can't help it.
This weekend was Youth Conference and the service project was to clean this woman's house. Tracy spent all day with her on Saturday cleaning, and taking her shopping! She took orders from her all day, and held her hand all through the market.
Trace had just told me about this 10 minutes before I was ordered out of my seat. Even now I am shaking my head in amazement that she and I both, in two days, got a good dose of this woman.

Also, about the shower story. I wasn't able to repair the handles when I was in the shower. I couldn't fix it. Everything was too wet, slippery, and flooding. I had to run out of the shower, wrap up in a towel, go out to the front yard, crouch down in the planter, find the shut off valve, and shut if off. In my towel! I was only wearing a towel. I'm amazed it stayed on. It was just like Judy Maxwell!
Now that I think of it, I don't think the soggy floorboards ever dried out, which is probably why Mike crashed through the floor a few months later. That was another fun day. There were a lot of those on Bluefield.