Closets: In AND Out

I have recently had a light-bulb moment regarding two of my oldest and dearest friends which involved two very different closets. Since privacy is such an issue these days I will call them "Fred" and "Ethel". I have known about Fred's closet affiliation for years but it was only recently that Ethel's closet connection was revealed to me. Ethel and I are very close and the older we get the closer we get. A wonderful by-product of this aging process is not giving a flying you-know-what about what people think. As Janice Joplin sang "freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose." And as some 12-step programs preach "you are only as sick as your secrets." I agree. My precious Ethel has recently informed me that when she was in college she spent a few hours hiding in a closet rather than take her, oh let's say, her "German" final. As if Herr Deutchland would hunt her down, drag her by her (insert German word for ear lobe here, if you know it) and force her to "schreiben Sie exam." As for Fred, he came out of his proverbial closet only a few years after Ethel was hiding in hers. I have no closet story of my own but nearly thirty years ago when Ethel was hogging our college apartments' bathroom I did poop in a box. The truth shall set you free!

Holiday Blues

The long Thanksgiving holiday is nearing an end and I am thankful that I have a job that entails absolutely no fear or dread, and that I will go back to work tomorrow after nine luxurious days off. My son and I deposited the "third leg of our stool" (husband and father) at the airport this morning for he is off to Steamboat Springs, Co under the guise of conducting some business. On the way home from PDX we stopped at a Starbucks cuz Mommy needed a little medicine. When we arrived at the drive up window to pay for and collect our goods we were informed by the Starbucks worker that the car in front of us had purchased our order for us in a "random act of kindness." We were touched (in two senses of the word) and paid for the car behind us. It is now about two hours later and my son and I have a fantasy that at this particular Starbucks on 82nd Ave. in Portland, Oregon the chain has not yet been broken.

The Units

My parents visited us over the weekend. I am still recovering. My mother is very peculiar. Everything is a reason to become panic stricken. My mother is stuck in 1957. I have no doubt that she loves me and my dad is the most loving, accepting, wonderful man on the planet. The first night my parents were here, my mom chose to spend our time together ranting and raving about what "crooks" all doctors are and that I needed to cease taking all my medications at once because the only person benefitting from me taking my medications was my doctor. The next night after I had gone (maybe I was sent) to my room, I had my door closed and was trying to fall asleep/escape, she knocked on my door the first time. She "needed" to tell me that I was out of cat food and OHMYGOD! what am I going to do? She even presented the empty box as evidence of my neglect. I assured her that I did in fact have more cat food and just because she was not holding it in her hand did not mean that it did not exist. This was a tough concept for her to grasp. "Good night, Mom." The second knock came a few minutes later with her knocking on my door and coming in so she could see what I "slept in. I told her that I, like her, slept in a bed." She meant, what did I wear to bed. How could that possibly concern her? The third time consisted of her coming in to tell me where she hid all her "mad money' so I would know "in case anything happened to her." I think she just didn't want to say good night and wanted to keep talking. The next morning as she was getting herself some breakfast, she felt compelled to hunt me down to tell me, frantically, that I was almost out of milk. I shared her hysteria and exclaimed that there was no more milk to be had and that I had foolishly traded our only cow for some magic beans. Actually I told her that there was another gallon in the back of the refridgerator and tried yet again to impart the wisdom that just because she didn't see it does not mean that it does not exist. I need to go have a lie down.

Relationship Epiphany

My husband once told me that he thought the only reason I was still married to him is because of the things he could do for me. He was refering to unpleasant household chores that he usually carried out at my request. I was shocked and disgusted by that remark. This was nearly 18 months ago and just this morning in the shower it became clear to me. Isn't that why we all choose the partners that we do? Not because of them but the effect that they have on us? I will bet that if a wife was willing to toss her husband an incredible hump every single morning followed by an evening, night-cap, blow job, that would be at the top of his list of the reasons he loved his wife. If he was honest. Yup.

Oprah's T & A

Yesterday all Oprah had to say about anything was that y'all are wearing the wrong bra and the wrong jeans. She was all about the "fit." She says nine out of ten women are wearing the wrong bra size. She says the right jeans can make you look taller. I guess I have misunderstood her message of the past five years or so: self acceptance. Just when I starting to embrace the magic that is me! If fit is so important then why do so many women, including Oprah, insist on wearing those insanely pointy shoes?

Open mouth, insert foot.

Dateline: My Elementary School. I was walking through one of the common areas that six classrooms share when I spy one of my favorite families having lunch. Mom, Daughter and young Son. Most lovely Daughter calls out to me in a booming voice designed to rise above all the noise that only first, second and third graders can make: "Hello Mrs. Kirkpatrick!!" I in turn called out in a mimicing booming voice: "Hello Miss Bates, Hello Mrs. Bates, Hello Master Bates!" It was outta my mouth and into the ears of many before I could retrieve it. Mrs. Bates and I collapsed into laughter. I have yet to hear of any repercussions that I know will eventually come back to haunt me. Some people just spend their days looking for something to complain about and are thrilled when it could even involve a formal complaint or grievance form.

Colonoscopy confusion

Okay, So I called my mother yesterday to get all the dirty details of her colonoscopy. I seemed to be having much more anxiety over this procedure than her. My wish to have my "exit" door remain so is one of the many things I obsess about on a daily basis. That back door is strictly for evacuation. So obsessed am I and my best friend "Ethel" about this that we have vowed that if we ever find ourselves in the situation which may indicate the need for any type of rectal invasion procedure that we must, must, must keep it to ourselves. Most grown-ups are much more matter-of-fact about this and while would rather not, will do it if necessary. My mom being one of them. So, she shows up at the doctors office at the appointed time, is escorted to the back procedure room (yikes....It makes me want to have diarrhea just thinking about it.) The nurse proceeded to question her about the preliminary procedures which were supposedly to have been done at home prior to the colonoscopy. She informs Nurse that she has done nothing. She is then questioned some more about why she had not done the highlighted instructions that were sent to her. She said that she had indeed received the instructions and none were highlighted but many were "crossed out" which she interpreted as DO NOTHING. Nurse found this to be a mystery until my mother produced the directional pamphlet out of her handbag and showed her what exactly had been crossed out. It was then determined that there had been a huge communication breakdown and my mother informed Nurse that "words covered in blue indicate that they should NOT be done and everyone one knows that anything that is ever highlighted is done so in yellow." My mom has rescheduled for January.

School Daze

Okay, so it's only Tuesday but it feels like Thursday because there is no school on Thursday and Friday. Then we return for an entire week (however will we make it?) only to have the entire next week off on the guise of giving thanks. I give thanks for a job that gives me weeks off at a time! Yesterday in my second grade classroom we were discussing the Beatles. One young man who shall remain namless...okay...I'll call him Skyler....cuz that's his name...asked me if two of the Beatles were really dead. I told him, sad but true. He then spent the entire day worrying about how he was going to break the news to his dad.