Pushing buttons

Alison and I are having a debate. It started years ago, but recurred the other day when we were going into the doctor's office.  I opened the first door, she pushed the big, blue square button designed to assist the less-able bodied to enter buildings through the second door.

I do not park in handicapped spaces -- even in the rain. Even in the cold. Even when I just have to run in for 3 seconds.

I only pee in handicapped stalls in emergencies and when I'm the only one in the place. And I ALWAYS hurry in these cases. Otherwise, I use the standard stall as befitting of my able-bodiness.

And I never push the blue button. In lieu of pushing the button, I do a little mental happy dance that I don't need that help. Yet.

Alison, who has earned a black belt in tae kwon do, can (when she wants to) run circles around me. Of late, she's taken to perfecting her one-handed handstand as she waits out the shuffling/dealing portions of games of gin rummy. Somehow she has a different take on the idea of assisted living.

"Mom. That's what's it's there for," she said, when I protested her use of the button.  "It's like this: Would you get out your ruler and measure how many feet are in a mile or would you use your iPad to Google it?"

I told her that she was missing my point and did everything but demonstrate my mental happy dance to bring her around. She wasn't buying it.

"It's not like it only has so many times you can push it," she said.  "If it's there, I think everyone should use it."

I can't really say she's wrong. I'm putting it down in the category of which way you position the toilet paper or whether you like pencils or pens. Clearly, you SHOULD choose my way. But I won't hate you if you choose poorly. I might sigh or roll my eyes, but I won't judge. Much.

In other news, my husband took me out to dinner and Blake Shelton Friday night and I'm still in awe of both Jeff and Blake. Jeff because he's really not a country music fan but was better than a good sport at the show. And Blake Shelton because he's just a great guy.

He was funny and attentive to the crowd. We were 11 rows back from center stage on the floor. I could see his sweat, his dimples and his truly horribly designed tattoo. But I wasn't in danger of spittle or sweat spray. 

The worst thing that happened was the guy behind me who was making rude noises about Sunny Sweeny -- the second act. Sure, dude. be a BS fan, but don't be rude to the people who come before. I think Blake Shelton would have kicked his ass had he heard. Had I been in the front line, I probably would have told on him.

As it was, Jeff thanked me later for keeping quiet and saving HIM the broken nose. (The rude guy was big and ugly in both his behavior and appearance...)  But the two young girls and their mom next to me were as sweet as could be and way fun.

We had dinner at  Zest before the show. Alison had a sleepover, and I got her opinion of my outfit before we left. I had on my TV bra (2-cup sizes, ladies!) so the halter actually worked, and funky heels. Alison pronounced it good but thought I had too much eye-liner on. 

I risked it. Got compliments from the women at Zest, who encouraged me to keep it all on --even for a country show. Jeff had leftovers though, and Zest is near our house so I ended up changing into jeans and Ali's new cowboy boots, which still had a little Flat Rock dust on them.

I confessed to her later. She thought it was a good idea. "Did you wipe off some of that eye-liner?" she asked.

I thought about telling her that the cosmetic companies made the eye-liner so people would use it, but decided we'd had enough of that conversation.