They say bad things happen in threes. And to that I say,Pshaw! Who are “they” anyway? Because I’d like to have a word with them. I’m here as living proof that bad things can happen in fours, fives, and for poor saps like me, let’s talk nines.
It started when, unbeknownst to me, my kitchen faucet started to leak (bad thing #1). How am I to know it was slowly dripping under the cabinet? Unfortunately, I rarely look under there. Turns out it holds stuff I didn’t know I had. Like how often do you use sterling silver polish? Me? Let’s say never. And here’s my proof.
Recently I took my sister, who is camera shy, to dinner for her 70th birthday. How quickly time flies, especially the older we get. Time just marches on, doesn’t it? What other analogies can I abuse? Okay, okay I’ll spare you. But let’s just say it was a strange evening.
Vicki’s favorite restaurant is Marin Joes, a 69-year-old Italian eatery where reservations are only for parties of seven or more. So to get a table, you have to get there early or head to their bar and drink for an hour. Now don’t get me wrong — that’s not a deal breaker.
This place is like a Taylor Swift concert; there’s never an empty seat and it fills up fast. So when we arrived at 5:30, it was already nearly full. Vicki started the evening with a margarita and yours truly had a vodka martini, two olives please. A while later I heard what sounded like back slapping, probably a friend greeting the elderly man at the table behind me. But as it turns out, he was choking on a piece of steak!
His frantic daughter pounded on his back while yelling, “I need help here!” So I jumped out of my chair, although what I planned to do is beyond me since I last took CPR in high school. Our waiter rushed over but the daughter had already switched to the Heimlich (aka abdominal thrusts) and BINGO, out flew a chunk of steak.
When dad and daughter left, a man and a woman sat at their table as our waiter delivered Vicki her steak and pasta and my scallops with pasta.
As I cut up Vicki’s steak (she has limited use of her hands), the evening became stranger than the nearly-choking-to-death elderly man. While eating, I saw out of the corner of my eye a small white plate near my head, hovering there like a UFO. I turned and saw the man from the table behind me holding his bread plate out toward Vicki. I smiled and said, “Very funny.” But he didn’t move nor say a word. He just kept holding out the plate.
So my sister says, “Do you want some steak?” I didn’t hear a response but Vicki added, “You can have some. Hand me your plate.” I glanced behind me and saw the woman at their table smiling like this was a regular occurrence. Vicki put a couple slices of steak on his plate then I handed it to him. Still, he never said a word. I thought, could he be deaf? Or maybe mute?
As Vicki and I continued our conversation, I sensed someone standing near me. Yep, it was the same man. As I looked up at him, he stared down at me (or maybe at my plate) and before I knew what was happening he reached down, grabbed a scallop, popped it in his mouth, then went back to his table.
For once in my life I was speechless. Just then, an employee came over and asked, “Did that man take food off your plate?” I nodded, still in shock. I felt like I was on Candid Camera, the long-running TV program where unsuspecting people are placed in confusing and embarrassing situations while being secretly recorded with hidden cameras.
Anyway, as I paid our bill, I noticed Marin Joe’s kindly deducted our cocktails. I also noticed the man now stood at a table of 6 men having dinner who looked like ex-football players. They stared up at him, bewildered, while he mutely stared back. Fortunately, he was wise enough (or now sober enough) to walk back to his table.
After that night, I came to this conclusion: I definitely need to learn CPR and maybe sign language as well.
Okay, so I lied. I said I’d have a new post this week. But since this one was written 13 years ago, who remembers it? Not me. So it’s sort of new, if you look at it from that perspective.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a Girl Scout. That’s because I’m always prepared. I can’t help it. I’m a compulsive planner and a bit of a pack rat.
My mom said whenever she gave us kids Popsicles, I always asked for two, “Just in case I drop one.” Invariably, she’d insist one was enough. So I’d grip the stick tighter and hope for the best.
In high school, my sister thought I was demented. She couldn’t fathom why I finished my homework before dinner when I could do it over Cheerios in the morning. But I liked knowing it was done, just in case. In case of what? I have no idea. Continue reading →
Busy, busy, oh so busy…therefore please enjoy this post from 2013 and I’ll be back next week…
Last year, after my 56th birthday, I began to understand what the phrase, “feeling your age,” actually entails. What caught me by surprise, however, is how it looks.
Evidently, my appearance has betrayed me. Strangers no longer refer to me as “miss.” At some point, I stepped over that invisible threshold into a new reality. I am now known as “ma’am.”
Apparently this is how “ma’am” looks
Aging is sly the way it sneaks up on you. There are no bulletins to announce its arrival. It suddenly appears when you aren’t paying attention. Looking in the mirror one day, you wonder whose face is staring back. Personally, I never saw it coming. Continue reading →
Many of my friends are in the same boat with me when it comes to a frequently foggy memory. I have to say, it gives me immense pleasure knowing I’m not floating out there alone. That sounds callous, doesn’t it? But mostly, it fills me with hope that I’m not, in fact, losing it. It being my mind. Granted, I never had a particularly sharp one. But these days I sometimes find my boat lost in a sea of fog.
Getting older hasn’t bothered me that much. I mean, if it weren’t for my stupid back, I mostly feel like a 30-year-old. I don’t have aching body parts a 64-year-old might expect. Maybe because I’ve always been active. Now don’t get me wrong; just because I don’t feel my age doesn’t mean I don’t look it. I certainly do. Sadly, I recently gazed into my 10x magnifying mirror and just for a second wished I was blind.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 