The Local

Met mom and Jean in Prescott yesterday for pre-holiday festivities.

After eating lunch at a place called The Local, organic and tasty, we walked down the street to find her favorite vacuum cleaner repair place.

"Neighborhood looks right but I think they're closed," said mom as we walked, hoping to recover her wayward Electrolux, left some weeks previous.*

We found 'em 2 blocks down, around the corner, and they were open!

The not-quite-ancient lady behind the counter had waxy, maroon colored hair and abnormally long, hairy forearms - a bit lycanthropic in retrospect.

Mom, hard of hearing, shouted out introductions - mentioning I'd come from Phoenix.

To which the lady said, "my son lives in Phoenix. It's his birthday today but I tried calling him and he won't answer."

For some reason, I imagined an aging man - weathered and perhaps hungover - staring through slitted eyes at the ringing phone. He'd escaped his parents and small town life but mortality loomed.

Roger, her husband, came out from the back - tall, slightly hunched, with a furrowed brow and peering eyes that looked everywhere but at us.

He was also hard of hearing. Or maybe just in a marriage where the wife addresses her husband in third person.

"Roger's in a real mood today," she announced as he came out.

At which point he stopped, took us in, then headed back from whence he came.

Moment's later he re-emerged with mom's vacuum and turned it on. The noice was horrible - a combination of grating and grinding.

Then a little plastic chunk flew out and it purred like a kitten.

Mom handed over her card and after some shouting:

"Card doesn't work! How much?! Sign here!! Doesn't work?! Merry Christmas!!"

We left with a thud of the door and a clang of the bell.

"Don't make 'em like that anymore," said mom.

True dat.

* A real life, actual Electrolux Vacuum Cleaner!