Granny Went Gaelic — And This Is What Happened

For every night there is a day. For every winter there is a summer.

And for every outing for a 64-year-old there is a price to be paid.

Maybe everyone has a yin with their yang. But mine just seem to come back and bite me in the buttocks. Every good time I have has a clip of wtf in it.

Like Friday. St. Patrick’s Day.

A night out with the hubby…something we haven’t had in a while. Went to an Irish band concert — Gaelic Storm — which I wrote about here. Was all pumped up. Sparkly nails, sparkly hat. Went to a great burger place for dinner, had a Bloody Mary. We were way early for the concert so we stopped into a bar across the street from the concert hall. Made some great temporary friends — had a great time. Went to the concert — had a great time. Went to the bathroom after the concert —

Dropped my phone in the toilet.

A thousand women hit that bathroom before and after me. How many of them do you think dropped their phone in the toilet?

Standing up for myself on wobbly legs, my phone was in my back pocket (I had no front pockets), and somehow in standing up my phone went for a swim. Since I still owe on the phone that now doesn’t work, and its too early to upgrade, I had to reactivate my old phone.

Only me.

This crashing course in reality happens to me all the time. I’m the only one who  flips the SUV on a barely-visible slip of ice, the only one who forgets major ingredients in recipes, the one who gets lost if I don’t write directions down.

I’m sure everybody goes through these things, but sometimes I feel like whenever I turn around there’s something embarrassing waiting for me.

There’s something about getting “older” that is to blame for every slip of the step. Even though it’s an inaccurate assumption, it’s the first one everyone runs to. Oh, she’s not playing with a full deck. She doesn’t remember what you tell her half the time. She just doesn’t pay attention. How easy it is for those words to fall out of one’s mouth. And I suppose the validity of such depends on what side of the fence you’re on.

My son has dropped his phone in the toilet. Very little fanfare was made of that. Mom? Whew! Too many Captain’s and Cokes. How can one get lost when you drive that way 25 times a year? Daydreaming out the window while someone else is driving is not an excuse. Can’t fall asleep? Turn off the TV and phone and just lay there in bed like a zombie for 3 hours!

It’s all so easy!

My husband has been pretty kind to me after the phone incident. He  accompanied me to U.S. Cellular to get my old phone activated, and even offered his new phone to me in exchange.

But somehow I know there’s a little chuckle going on inside, thinking he let me have too good a time at the concert that night.

Well, he just didn’t see the leprechaun that followed me into the stall, That’s all…


The Almighty 3

pi7 copyThe power of 3.

Somewhere in our superstitious past, humans have transformed the lowly number 3 into a prophecy laden with mystery. “It happens in 3‘s”  is a phrase that has been linked to doom and destruction, to delight and daydreams. Random occurrences in nature suddenly have become gospel for everything from death to weather trends.

We devote a lot of energy to 3: 3 Stooges, 3 piece suit, 3 little pigs, 3 in the holy trinity, 3 ring notebook, 3 french hens.  It’s like 3 is conveniently small enough to be able to lump random acts into some semblance of fortune telling.

Now, there are perfectly good “other” numbers out there we can utilize. How about 4? There are 4 seasons, 4 suits of cards, 4 states of matter, 4 calling birds.  Or 7? (another man-made mystical number). There are 7 deadly sins, 7 days a week (except for the Beatles), 7 chakras, 7 layer salad, 7 swans a swimming. Or how about 246? 49? 15? (those are probably too long to spit out…)

Numbers are just that. Numbers. It takes a human mind to figure out there is some greater meaning in them.

Which brings me to today’s blog.
I am thinking about falling for that 3 “thing”.

Yesterday one of 3 dogs pooped on the bedroom side of the bedroom door. Then the washing machine took a dump, spilling water all down the hallway, dripping through the floor to downstairs. That’s 2.

Is there a time limit for 3‘s? I mean, do they follow each other hour-to-hour, day-to-day, week-to-week? I know there was a lot of brouhaha when David Bowie, Glen Frey, and Alan Rickman died one right after the other, although the truth was that is was really 8 days between the 3.

Back to my personal dilemma. Closer to home. Is there still doom for me on the horizon? Do I have to wait in purgatory for the proverbial “other shoe” to drop? Won’t 2 messes do?

I’ve got magical numbers for everything. 2’s: number of times I was in the hospital repairing son number 2; number of cats I own; number of running cars we have at one time. 5’s: age of my grandson; place settings at the table; number of pets I have (for now). Or how about 35? Number of year’s I’ve been married; number of unicorns and dragons in the stuffed animal basket. Or 8: my birthday is on the 8th, I’ve lived in 8 houses in my life; I ate 8 crackers with my cottage cheese at lunch.

See how silly numbers are? You can make them into anything you want. You can pick out a random order in anything, and make it fit what is going on with you at the moment.

If the other shoe is going to drop, it’s going to drop. No matter if there is one space or five spaces left in the sequence.

Maybe my number should be Pi — according to one website, there are 2,000,000,000,000,000+ numbers in one number…and they’re still working on it…