Mom used a lot of different words. Not bad language but words and phrases she grew up hearing/using from her Dutch grandparents. (Her mom died when twins Florence Elaine and Floyd Duane were less than 2 weeks old). Their father, Gerrit (Lakey) was unprepared to raise a set of newborn twins, thus both sets of grandparents fought (amicably) to raise them. Paternal’s won out (bigger house, maybe a bit more money) but the twins grew up spending a lot of time with both sets as they lived only a few blocks from each other.

I’ve talked about the Dutch slang mom (and the rest of us) used throughout our lives, even blogged about the common or funny ways those odd words described things. While my dad called me ‘Squirt’ when I was little, mom called me her ‘klane-a-maachje’ (little girl).

When I was 4-1/2, my parents bought a house about a mile from the house I was born in. Close to the business district of our then 1,500 populated metropolis, it was one of the oldest houses in town. There was much work to be done, the kitchen held no cupboards or sink, the bathroom was primitive but dad was handy and did most of the work himself.

The dining room was the highlight for mom. It wasn’t a room we would use everyday but we walked through it to get anywhere else in the house constantly. Before long she would shop in Sioux Center (her hometown) at Vander Ploeg’s Furniture to buy a hutch, round table with four chairs, a bookcase (to hold our World Book encyclopedias so I’d manage to pass some classes) and a grandmother clock (a bit small than traditional grandfather’s). All from early American hard rock maple. She loved everything about the room we would spend the least amount of time in.

It was a large room with 3 windows, our front door, a doorway to the small kitchen and a door leading upstairs which resembled a ladder. Yikes. Another open double doorway led to the square living room, but it was the beautiful, narrow old oak floor that won her heart. She dusted it on hands and knees EVERY MORNING, gathering a tiny amount of dirt and sand between her thumb and index finger. She waxed it with paste wax, let that dry then used a polisher/buffer until that floor blinded you with a sheen I’ve not seen since. Can’t tell you how many times I slipped walking through that room, but she was so proud of that floor. And she never fell, neither did dad. Huh.

Although it was far from her favorite saying, she used it often when I or one of my friends got in the vicinity of THE FLOOR. If you used the front door or wanted to go upstairs, to the kitchen, bathroom, living room, garage or back yard YOU HAD TO WALK THROUGH THE DINING ROOM. This was her mantra. “Stop sluffing (not shuffling) your feet. You’re gonna scratch the floor. Please take off your shoes.” (All in one breath). My friend Diane Wilson was the worst sluffer who spent time on mom’s oak floor. If mom came home from work she’d park in the garage, walk through the kitchen, glance at ‘the floor’, turn to me and say, “Diane was here today.”

Now every time I type the word ‘sluff,’ autocorrect changes it to stuff, not recognizing that Dutch phrase that was common in our house. I hadn’t thought about that for decades. (I have 2 full pages of Dutch slang written down and sluffing is not a word among them).

But as of late I’ve been sluffing my feet (just the left one to be exact), so mom’s cautionary/accusatory quote has been on my mind often.

Had my second knee replacement a month ago. Really thought I could complete this life with one new and one original knee but obviously God is not done with me yet. My quality of life was miserable, limping, waking up every time I moved my leg at night so went back to Dr. Carpenter in July and scheduled surgery. Amazingly this one hasn’t been as bad but I am 6 years older and not recovering nearly as fast. After 4 weeks I’m only at a 90 degree bend and my balance is dicey at best. (Meniere’s Syndrome, which affects my balance, associated with my significant hearing loss) so the walker is still being utilized, much to my dismay. Then I remember what Carpenter said as I was leaving the hospital. “You have one job, don’t fall!” I did buy a cane and started using it in the house, but as of now I’m not a confident walker.

Still there’s some upside to this. I am not suffering from a lot of pain and happy that surgery is in my rear view. However I am easily fatigued and often nap DURING THE DAY! I am doing some cooking and have baked a few things, even ventured down the basement a couple times so life is slowly getting back to normal. It’s just taking longer than I like and I’m not very patient. Can’t wait until physical therapy is done, (geez I hate it) but realize it’s the best way to insure that my knee will eventually bend and my stride will look somewhat normal. Until then I will be sluffing along (think Tim Conway on Carol Burnett), managing to scratch my floor without falling on my face, so be of good cheer…