Mom & Me Journals Histories: 1999 - 2001

    The hat is, today, again, a hairpiece. The jigsaw puzzle, however, is still a trick, a nasty one. Maybe my mother has moved beyond jigsaws.

Two Amusing Mom Episodes:

1. A week or so ago my mother decided she'd like to get back into the habit of doing jigsaw puzzles when watching television. It's not a perennial interest, like crossword puzzling, but every once in awhile she gets into jigsaws. At Walmart she picked out a 3-in-one box edition from very small (100 pieces) to medium small (750 pieces). She spread the very small one out this afternoon, contemplated it, picked up this piece, picked up that one and finally, after about a half hour, announced to me, "They made this puzzle without any pieces that fit." I ambled over, started picking out sides and constructing the frame.
       "How did you do that?" she asked.
       "Well, Mom," I said, thinking she was referring to the technique which she apparently left somewhere back in her past, "I looked for the pieces with straight sides."
       "No," she corrected me, "I mean, how did you get them to fit?"
       "They're made that way," I reminded her.
       She shot me a facial "shrug" and started trying to fit side pieces together. I stopped, returned to the floor and my reading. About fifteen minutes later she said, "I don't know what you did to make these pieces fit, but I think it's a trick. You can put these things together. I'm done with them."
2. Today my mother also got a pastiche hairpiece at the suggestion of her hairdresser. It fills out her hair on top and allows a hairdresser to use the rest of her hair to create a decent French Twist (my mother's preferred hairstyle). It matches quite well except for the nicotine tinge of her own hair. Her hairdresser was concerned about this until I assured her that by next week's appointment the hairpiece will perfectly match her own hair. Her hairdresser laughed and agreed.
       A little while ago my mother came into my room where I was laying on the floor reading (by this time the TV volume was at a level that made it impossible for me to concentrate), nudged my foot and asked, "Will you please help me get this hat off? I can't find the hairpin."
       "It's not a hat, Mom, it's a hairpiece. You want to take it off? Okay, but I can't promise I'll be able to recreate the same look, tomorrow."
   
       "A hairpiece?!?" She exclaimed. "Where did it come from?"
       "You bought it today from [her hairdresser]," I reminded her.
       "No," she reminded me, "I bought a hat. I certainly am not going to bed tonight wearing a hat!"
       I helped her take the hairpiece off. Once it was on the table she picked it up, examined it and said, "This hat looks like a hairpiece!"
       "It is, Mom."
       Good, I thought. We'll be able to get this straightened out. I reviewed for herthis morning's activities.
       She interrupted me. "This is certainly a funny looking hat. I don't think I'll be wearing it very often."

    Today, obviously, was one of her more creative days. Usually it's the weather that affects her. I'm not sure what it was today. Tomorrow, I'll bet, the hat will be a hairpiece again and I'll be able to practice my observations regarding fixing it into her hair while she is successfully putting together a jigsaw puzzle. With luck it'll be a hairpiece for enough days so that its hat-like properties will slip down another memory sink.
    Enough creativity for one day. I'm going to bed.