Ellie’s birthday is coming up, at the end of February. She calls and announces: I will be arriving on Friday for my birthday, we will eat at the Roadhouse, I am paying and there will be none of that damn singing and dancing at my table. OK, got it, Ellie!
Poof, a thought comes flying in. I’ll go and buy her gift cards for the Roadhouse, ha ha, and she’ll have to pay with them. I call Jeff and he says, well great minds think alike, I too am going to buy her gift cards. I said, sigh, it’s pretty bad when you are trying to outsmart your 82 year old Mom.
She arrives and she is pissing vinegar. She stopped at a store along the way and saw they had a 6-pack of Yeungling (beer my husband Wayne loves) and so she put it in her cart. When she was checking out, the clerk asked for her ID. Cute. It’s just a store policy, but that is not the way SHE saw it. She told him that her ID was in her car and she was not going to retrieve it. The poor clerk (only following store rules) says, fine, what is your birthdate? Quite unaware he has managed to start World War III. She said, well I was just so pissed off that I lied to him. WTFf??? I am laughing so hard and asked why in the hell would you lie to him, and she said she did not know.
The answer came later as we arrived back at my home, after dinner. We were talking about the ID story and she said: “Well, I just can’t face the fact that I’m going to be 83!” It took a few minutes for Jeff and I to convince her that since she was born in 1931, she was only going to be 82. Holy shit, suddenly she is just so damn happy about her age. So, I’m connecting dots here thinking, well fuck, maybe she doesn’t like odd numbers or something. Who knows what transpires in that damn divine mind of hers.
She leaves for Canada at the same time I am leaving for a birthday party, about an hour and a half north of here. My cell rings and she is at a pay phone and clearly manic. She has lost her new wallet with a $100 bill in it, her American credit and debit cards and her cell phone. She said: “Don’t be alarmed!” I said: “I am clearly not, YOU ARE!” She humbly replied: “You’re right.”
Now, this losing of “things” with Ellie dates back to a very early memory of mine when I was 5 years old, so really, it’s nothing new. I am thinking, shit, it’s probably in one of the many, many, MANY bags you carry around with you.
When she arrives back in Canada, she calls and is in full-fledge fright. Sigh, ok, sorry for you, I’m not buying into it. The next few days are a flurry of calls, cancelling this, cancelling that, oh dear, I hope whomever finds this needs the $100, and now since the restaurant we went to just happens to be where two of my kids work, they are all sucked into this black hole, and apologizing to my kids they cannot find it. She is sure she lost it there!
Two days later I am reaching for a storage bag on the bottom shelf of my baker’s rack and think what in it the hell is that plastic bag….OMG….I KNOW WHAT IT IS!
Ha Ha. Cellphone, wallet, a rain bonnet and a container of ibuprofen. I call, she says “hang on.” Comes back and says: “I had to collect myself.” According to ACIM, what does this mean? I said well are the thoughts: “I am getting old, the kids are going to think I’m losing it, maybe I shouldn’t even be driving, blah blah blah.” She said, “Oh, that’s it exactly!”
Congrats Ellie, you’ve reached a new level! Instead of blaming the world for what is going on, you have now projected it back onto yourself. And although, this is a very tough stage to go through, the good news is that it is much quicker.
And then I climbed up on my lofty perch and proclaimed: IT’S A SIGN FROM GOD TO QUIT CARRYING ALL THOSE FUCKING BAGS AROUND!!!”
Much Love and Pink Clouds,