Oh, By The Way.....Thank You, God

Hi, God--remember me?

I know, I know.....Thanksgiving.  The one day most of us take inventory and count our blessings and throw a little credit to you.  Sorry about that, and I wish I remembered to be thankful for what I have every day; not just today.  Anyway, here I am and I just want you to know, despite everything, it's really been another good year.  But, while we're talking, there's a few things I'd like to bring to your attention.

What is going on with this aging thing?  I mean, seriously, it was like one day I'm all dewy-skinned, not an ounce of fat, and I didn't need glasses to see everything.  I'm not able to skip the snacks and drop ten pounds like *that* anymore.  Well, no, I'm not actually using that 'Y' membership or the nice fitness center I have where I work........thanks for making both of those available to me.  Please give me the determination to use them.


And God?   I'm not looking so young anymore, and the wrinkles keep on a coming. It's funny, I used to think if I ever won the lottery I'd get a nice house, travel, and lavish the rest on everyone I know.  You know what? I don't wish for mega millions anymore.  All I want is enough for a good plastic surgeon to do something with my neck.  That's all.  That's awful, isn't it?  I'm fifty-two.  Not twenty-two. Not thirty-two.  Not even forty-two.  But, I have to admit--I look pretty decent for fifty-two.  Alright.  I will stop griping and settle for aging gracefully.  Thank you for the good genes you were kind enough to give me from my Mom and Dad that make the ravages of time not so bad for me.  


 My hair, God---MY HAIR!  Shhhhhh!!! I'm not really a blonde, but don't tell anyone.  I'm having to touch the roots up more frequently now and I hate it.  I suppose the time is going to come in the next decade when I'll just decide to let it go.  You know what?  Dad died when he was forty.  I never remembered him without his mainly salt and a little pepper hair.  I guess I got that from him, didn't I?  Okay, fair enough.  Thank you for the daily remembrance of my Daddy every time I check my roots out.  


Why the heck did you let me go through that whole kidney stone ordeal in August?  That hurt like a son-of-a.....oops, sorry.  Well, it wasn't pleasant, that's for sure, and the bill I have from that emergency room visit was just as painful. Come to think of it, though--I didn't have to pay anything out of my own pocket for that.  I am so fortunate to work where I do, and my employer credited a generous amount into my HSA account because I am in good health. Actually, that took care of the adjusted balance, so....yeah--nothing, actually. Thank you for that, too. 


Another thing, it's been an awful year with most of my kids.  We've had some trouble this year, as you well know.  How much do you think I can handle, anyway?  How about spreading some of that around, instead of clumping it all together in a small period of time?  Some weren't speaking to me, and when they did, it was just hateful.  I cried a lot, and prayed daily about this.  It just kept getting worse.  Now?  Well, yes, things are better.  Yes, you did answer those prayers, maybe not quite in the way I wanted things resolved, or as fast as I would have liked, but you did answer them.  Thank you.


God, I'm alone.  I guess I never pictured myself single at fifty-two.  I feel lonely, sometimes.  I wish I had someone to come home to, someone to cook for, someone who knows what to do when things break at home.  Yes, I know I have Sydney to cook for, but how many times can you throw frozen chicken fries in the oven and call it dinner?  That's all she wants to eat. And, yes, I've lucked out that most things at home I've been able to fix with my handy-dandy combo of duct tape, bobby pins, and hair scrunchies.  Nevertheless, I'm starting to take this personally.  I'm not dating, and no one seems interested in me.  Maybe it's because I'm getting old?  Sorry, I said I wouldn't mention that again, but what else could it be?  Oh, come to think of it, you've got a good point.  I do work a lot.  I do make myself unavailable because of being a parent.  I don't go out and put myself out there.  Wow--I just thought of something---I don't NEED someone, do I?  Sure, it would be nice to have someone, but I'm taking care of things on my own.  You've really blessed me with an independent spirit, a fantastic work ethic, and a sense of priorities.  Come to think of it, thank you for not allowing me to stay in a couple of relationships since my divorce that didn't make me happy, and for giving me the courage to walk away.  

God, God, GOD......what were you thinking giving me a baby at 40?  Here I am with a precocious, rambunctious, exhausting twelve-year-old at 52!  She is a challenge, and she insults me, too.  Needy, greedy, untidy......and she lives on her iPhone.  I'm only here to ferry her to dance practice all week, and the money!  The money! God, I don't know if I can continue to afford this little dance diva!  Pointe shoes, half-sole shoes, leotards, competition make-up....and that was just last month! Whenever she doesn't get her own way, I have to endure being told I'm the "worst Mother in the world!".  You and I both know I'm not, but she thinks so.  But, what would I do without her?  Without her, I really would be all alone.  I'd miss the energy.  She's pretty funny, too.  You know, it's funny, and probably a coincidence, too, that I seem to have overtime to work when I have those extra needs come up.  She's a talented little dancer, and I'm so glad and fortunate that she's able to pursue a dream in her little life.  Thanks for giving me the ability to help her do that.  I really feel bad complaining about her---I am so glad I had this little late-life blessing.  She keeps me on my toes and young at heart.

Okay, God, I'm tired.  I think there's something wrong with me, actually.  No one should feel this run-down.  I wonder what's wrong--do you think it's serious?  Well, yes....I do work at least sixty-hours most weeks.  And, you're right, anyone would be tired getting sometimes three hours of sleep a night, and yes, I am working these hours voluntarily.  Come to think of it, I seem to pep right up after a ten-minute catnap at lunch at work.  Everyone marvels at my ability to be able to drop into a dead sleep anytime, anywhere.  That's a talent, that's what that is!  No, that's something you gave me the ability to do to recharge myself during the day.  And all those hours?  That's a blessing, too.  I can take care of all I need, and some wants, too, thanks to having my job that you led me to almost ten years ago.  Wow.  Thanks for all of this.

I'm really going to work harder at counting the blessings.  Thank you for allowing me to experience life for 52 years.  Thank you for five children.  Thank you for my warm home, plenty to eat, a decent car, a cute little dog, and everything I take for granted every day.  Let me strive to see the good in things instead of dwelling on the negative so often.  I know this sounds strange, but thank you for the struggles.  They have made me strong, and I think they have made me able to weather the storms.  

For all I have, and for all I continue to be blessed with, thank you.  

Pay at The Pump (Or Not)

Pay at the Pump....Or Not

Every day of your life, you will learn something new, do something you've never done, or in my case, both. Take today, for example. While on the way to Indy to watch the state Winter Guard preliminaries, I made a pit-stop in Anderson for gas and a drink. To save time, I did something I rarely do--I left the pump unattended while I went in and got my soda. A few minutes later, I returned to my car, got in, and took off. I hadn't gotten one-and-a-half feet when I was jolted by a sickening, grinding, twisting sound. It didn't take long for the horror of what happened to dawn on me. In thirty-six years of driving, I have never de-hosed a gas pump. My record came to an abrupt end.

                                                                   

I got out of the car, and stood frozen not knowing what to do. Out came the young cashier, walking towards me with a smile, and through the window, I could see the second cashier on the phone. The young fella could see that I was one freak away from a full-on freak-out, and he seemed concerned. "Ma'am? Are you okay? Can I get you a coffee? A donut? A Valium?" We walked back into the store, and he reassured me everything was all right. He then mentioned that this wasn't the worst thing that had happened there all day. True to his word, he let me choose a large cappuccino and a donut. Free. The other clerk got off of the phone with the manager. All was fine. So, off I headed out the door with the cashier, and my free complimentary donut and coffee.
 

Once in the car, and calmed down, I began to muse about the new things I learned in the twenty minutes I was at that gas station: 1). Those hoses are specially made to break away to accommodate idiots like me. 2). Despite how bad it seems, you won't be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. 3). Not only will you not have to pay for any damage, no angry store manager will show up escorted by police to take you away. 4). You won't lose your license. 5). Not only will you not be out money, you will be given refreshments for your trouble. 6). That really WASN'T the worst thing that happened at that gas station today---earlier this morning, their detached car wash burned to the ground. 7). Yes. Car washes can burn.
 

Pulling out, I closed my eyes, basked in the aroma of my free hazelnut cappuccino, and took a bite out of my donut. Life was good. I looked in my rear view mirror at the carnage I was leaving behind--the smiling attendant holding the destroyed gas hose in one hand, waving to me with the other, and the faint smoke coming from the still-smoldering ruins of what used to be a car wash now surrounded by yellow caution tape in the background. Yes, another day---new experiences gained, lessons learned----my work here is done.