Day 4: Lunch with Momma and a Night with the Knights

When Cousin Cindi first mentioned lunch with Momma at the retirement community, she was included in the equation. However, when the actual lunch time with Momma rolled around, it was down to just me and Julia because Cindi was not able to take the day off, or so she claims. Pretty sure she hates us.

Fortunately, I somehow managed to listen to Cousin Cindi’s grating Southern drawl the previous evening while riling the miniature felines. Had I not, I would have had no idea how to find Momma for said lunching experience. “Go here. Turn there. Park there. Go in here. 247.” That’s about all I was able to comprehend as she fired accent-littered words in my direction. It was horrible!

Anyway, due to my trap-like memory, we made it to Momma’s with geographical perfection and headed inside to 247 for a Momma hang out session, lunch and a tour of her retirement community. Momma led us to a special reserved table at the retiree feed bag station where were perused the menu items from which the residents, and their guests, could choose. Quite the spread was being offered for the taking.

The quote of Day 4 goes to Momma, who said to me as I pondered the nourishment listings, “David…I can tell by looking at you that you like to eat.” Yankee translation: “You are a portly gentleman who consumes far too much Dr. Pepper and carbohydrates. Shut your mouth and get on a treadmill.” While she left off the gently delivered Southern slam, “Bless your heart,” I took the slight arm pat as the non-verbal equivalent. I thought about challenging her to a duel right then and there, but I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of her posse. And, you never know, there’s a chance she could take me… Probably not.

When the meal providing person came in search of our food item decisions, I went with vegetable and rice soup, grilled chicken and broccoli. I also requested an unsweetened iced tea as my beverage of choice for washing it all down the old gullet. What I got was mini-portions of stuff that looked like nicely prepared food, but lacked any sort of seasoning. I recall the freeze-dried astronaut food I sampled in grade school as having more flavor. Those poor people and their toddler-sized portions. Just because one is nearing the century mark, it should not equate to food rationing.

And then they faked us out with a white, granular substance that had the full appearance of iodized Morton’s loaded up into the shaker. When I shook it, nothing exited the seemingly-sealed container, thus, I was doomed to a fate of bland foodstuffs. Either the holes were too small for the substance to pour forth, or they were glued shut to give the appearance to ancient, cataract-covered lenses, that something was escaping. There’s something to be said for less sodium in one’s diet, but for the love of Jehovah, I’d like to be part of that decision-making process. Instead, it was either conform or starve like a Survivor contestant. Regrettably, I conformed and consumed my meal like a champ.

Then came refill time.

Julia had ordered Southern swamp water, also known as sweet tea, while I got the normal, unsweetened, Northern version of the same. Something about my unsweetened, strained, tea leaf liquid must have confused the server because what I got in return was the grossest of all beverages to touch my taste buds. I’m not sure what it is, but I’d much prefer a fountain Coke right after the mixture goes awry and it seems as though one is consuming acid directly from the battery of an automobile. Not only did vomit nearly rush up my esophagus to be liberated from the unsweetened dreck, but several lemon seeds advanced up the straw forcing me to awkwardly attempt to spit them back down without drawing the attention of elderly eyes or accidentally swallowing more of the noxious drink.

If that wasn’t bad enough, within 90 seconds, I reached for the glass once more, lifted it to my lips hoping for a thirst-quenching swig, only to be met with the same horrible palate-destroying sensation that I had experienced only mere moments earlier. After that complete beverage failure, Pavlov’s Dave learned his sweet tea lesson and pushed the poison receptacle from within reach so as to avoid another near death experience. 

Momma's Courtyard

Once we finished our snack, Momma took us on a tour of the facility, which was actually a very nice place with a variety of activities and such for the residents. A map, however, is a necessity for the first-time visitor. The grounds are reminiscent of the Saint Louis University campus, what with the landscaping and flora/fountain presentations. These peeps gotta be dropping some serious coin for these digs. That’s all I’ve got to say.

Cousin Cindi arrived after lunch to take us for a visit to her daddy’s (my Cousin Bill’s) grave. You may recall that I met Cousin Bill in 2009 after discovering him during ancestry research and visiting him and his family in Charlotte, North Carolina. Through nearly 90 year-old letters between my grandfather and Bill’s father (they were brothers), I was able to track Bill down and we shared our common familial bonds.  I’m so thankful that we were able to visit with him last summer before he passed away on Thanksgiving morning. He was such a cool guy who immediately welcomed me, a Missouri Yankee, into the Johnston family. It was a privilege to know him, if only for a short time, and I was glad we had the opportunity to visit his grave to pay our respects. RIP Cousin Bill.

From there, Cousin Cindi, whom I do not like, took us back to the Rav and we headed back to the hotel to mentally and physically prepare ourselves for the evening’s duel between the Bisons of Buffalo, New York and the hometown Charlotte Knights. We also had to pick up Brother Peter as he was joining us for the baseball battle.

Last year, we went to the Knights game on July 3^rd, which was their July 4^th game complete with a sellout, an overflow parking lot and a skyshow at game’s end. This evening’s game was MUCH different. Cousin Cindi and her mini-me, Lindsay, warned us that it would be radically different than our previous experience since it was not skyshow night. They were dead on with that prediction, almost Nostradamusly so. No more than 250 “fans” attended the game and we were told to “sit wherever we wanted,” so I parked it in the first row behind the Bison’s dugout for photographic purposes.

Super sweet close up from the "Wherever You Want" seats

The rain held off, it was dollar hot dog night, Brother Peter enjoyed himself and Julia’s Curse on the Home Team ended with a Knights victory! I even remembered to get my little Dragon friend a new stuffed dragon. She’ll be able to start eating its hair upon delivery. What a great day it turned out to be. It was somewhat bittersweet, however, as this would be our last trip to Knights Stadium as their new castle is under construction and they will move into the their new Uptown digs next season. Guess we’ll just have to come back again… Perhaps another new dragon will be needed by then.

I still don’t like Cousin Cindi much though.

Next up…the beach!

If you didn't already see them, see the pics from Days 3 and 4 HERE.