It Takes a Village

My Mom and Dad live in The Villages, a retirement community in Florida that became so large that it now has it's own zip code and Barnes & Noble.  Everyone in The Villages has their own golf cart with their names printed on the front.  You drive your golf cart to Wal-mart, Dunkin' Donuts, Starbucks drive thru, and nightly to the Town Square for dancing.

A few weeks ago Mom tore her meniscus.  It's pretty painful and she is going to physical therapy.  She's not sure if she hurt herself while playing pickle ball,

 dancing at the square,

 or when she teaches water aerobics.  I would really have no trouble narrowing down such an injury.  It would be the time I got up off the couch and did exercise.  That time.  Anyway, Mom is doing physical therapy hoping to avoid surgery.  I called this week to see how she is doing.  Then I called again, then I called their cell phones, then I tried again.  Then, when I was getting ready to begin calling neighbors to have someone check on them, they returned my call.  It seems that they took a quick cruise to the Bahamas.  They were certain that they told me.  They were very sorry to worry me.  I'm pretty sure that I heard Dad in the background snickering something about karma or payback or "years of worry."  I was informed that they went with 20 or so neighbors so I wouldn't have been able to find anyone to check on them anyway.

The good news is that she should be healed by the time they go on their Alaskan cruise.  Retirement- Great work if you can get it!!

Dear Mom and Dad, 

I'm sorry for the public fussing, but it's for your own good.

Love,

Natalie