Saturday Night Fever

Actually, it was Monday thru Friday Night Fever. I've been nursing Peach all week, across two cities even! She rallied Tuesday just in time to meet up with Mama Turista for a few days in Sand and Stonio, but they had to call in the reinforcements (that would be me and my lovely assistant, Olive) when she went back down for the count on Wednesday. We hightailed it to Mama T's and spent the next two days fetching water and cold compresses. The poor little thing looked like a wrung out washrag herself after four days of the fevah. And she wouldn't eat a thing, as she told me through half-closed eyes, "No thanks, Mommy. I don't have much of an appetite." Sweet baby.

Yesterday, she finally started to come around, and we spent the day at Mama Turista's soon-to-be-under-new-management shop. Peach had a little meltdown when she realized she wouldn't be able to play behind the counter anymore, but Mama T assured her that the new owner would be needing lots of help and would welcome her expertise anytime. I can remember spending many summer days at my grandmother's antique shop, playing with all that wonderful costume jewelry, so Peach comes by it honestly. After she retired, my grandmother bought a huge old house, and she had the first floor packed full of the most beautiful furniture. And a player piano, with about 1,000 rolls of music, which I thought was so amazing. We used to call her Sanford because she had this kickass old Dodge van that she used to haul furniture around in, and you never knew when she might just show up at the house with a piece that "looked just like you." I was on the receiving end of a beautiful marble top dresser and a judge's bookcase among other assorted treasures, but my favorite thing is just watching her, at 95, still work her magic with those snooty dealers. They have no idea who they're up against - the woman can spot a reproduction at 500 yards, and don't tell her that sideboard is solid because it's got veneer written all over it, and try harder next time when you're trying to pass off those mirrored doors as original because the glass they used in the 19th century was much thicker, etc.. She rules.

Anywho, it is bittersweet, but ultimately, I'll be glad when Mama T can do things like come visit for a week without having to move Heaven and Earth. Now I'm off to clean up the full bottle of Dimetap that spilled in one of the bags I just unloaded. The one with the stack of old pictures Mama T just gave me, the DVDs, and my camera. Joy.