Friday Maria

There's someone I've never blogged about and it just seems like it's time because she is such a card.  I call her Friday Maria, because that's when she comes.  She works up and down our block for neighbors, and then for my sister on Monday's.  She is the skinniest, bird leggingest little thing, probably because she works so hard and cleans like she is on fire.  She usually doesn't say a lot but is beginning to, now that her English is improving.  Either that or my Spanglish is getting better.  She is the sweetest, best thing and we all adore her.

Anywho, yesterday, while I was at the Bank, she was mopping one of the bathroom floors, and fell.  The only reason I know is because when I got back, she needed a bandaid where she had scraped her hand.  I asked to be sure she was OK, and she said she was fine.  But can you even picture someone mopping sooo hard, that they fell down?  The sad part is, I can, and my eyebrows almost shot off my face trying to smother my laughter.  Even she was laughing, when she told me what had happened.  Dang...it's a miracle we still have porcelain on that tile.  And then she told me she needed some more cleaning products, so I said "Sure", and to just put whatever she needed on my grocery list.  Here's what she wrote:  Lysol, and then she wrote Mild and Mold.  Uh... would that perhaps be Lysol Mold and Mildew bathroom cleaner?  I had to take Sister outside on that one....that, or I was going to blow a lung, trying to hold in my howls.  Her writing is always perfect so I think maybe she was just having a moment, post fall.  And, baby, does she ever love to scrub.  My sister and I have laughed our heads off over watching her go at it, and we had to quit buying certain types of scrubbers, for fear she'd take the finish off our stainless steel.

One Thursday a year or so ago, she rang our doorbell and when I opened it, she was in tears.  She told me Pressley, the dog from Hell who lived next door, had gotten out and run off.  I'm sure she was terrified she'd lose her job--little did she know our next door neighbors would have been thrilled by this news--but that's another story.  I told her I would go and try to find Pressley and not to worry, since Pressley and I were well acquainted.  Pressley was caught, returned home, and I told Maria "Pressley es una perro muy malo", and we laughed our heads off.  No telling what I really said in Spanish--I was trying to say Pressley was a really bad dog. Pressley has since moved to Houston, with our neighbors daughter, and let's just say not a tear was shed when she left.

Friday Maria loves People magazine, so I recycle mine to her and her daughter.  She thinks she has died and gone to heaven and I just think she's really smart.  A free week old People Mag?  Well, Hell, yeah.  She always asks if she can use the phone, or have something we've thrown away, so as a result, I try to give her first dibbs on anything we are cleaning out.  The more her English improves, the funnier she gets.  We are so blessed to have our Friday Maria, and we know it.