April 30, 2012

• alone and molding

  It seems like I might end up dying alone and molding in an apartment.

  Today I went to this luncheon for the chick club I belong to.  I do not exactly know why I belong to this club anymore.  The only thing I do is avoid going to board meetings as often as I can (because these biddies make me want to poke my eyes out with a sharp stick), make the annoying directory, and go to the luncheon where we have to stand up a hundred times and be appreciated and get our pictures taken (both things I could skip doing for the rest of my life thank you very much).  Except that today the luncheon was actually quite entertaining and the food was good and dessert was a chocolate cake that would send you right to heaven.  I digress.

  Anyhow, after the luncheon, I was walking to the parking deck with a long-term friend.  She was the first friend I made in this town when I moved here.  Her family moved in two months after we did.  Our kids are friends.  We’ve gone on vacation to the beach together for many years (except this year and last year, boo hoo).  She (my friend) started telling me this story about her mom and her mom’s friend.  How her mom got a letter from a friend that said something like you haven’t heard from me in so long you probably think I died and am molding in my apartment alone.  I just looked at her.  Then she went on.  How she (my friend) woke up in the middle of the night thinking about this woman (before she knew her mom had gotten a letter) and how that turns out to be roughly the time this woman was dying and how nobody found her for days.  I was creeped out.  But it gets worse.  (well.  I mean, it can’t get worse for this poor woman.  She died alone and molding in an apartment.)

  Because the next part of the conversation is where my friend says she doesn’t want to exactly say that her mom and her mom’s friend were opposites, but…  And then she goes on to say that she’s a lot like her mom and I remind her of her mom’s friend.  So, what you don’t know is that my friend is Donna Reed.  She puts the capital R in responsible.  She never misses appointments, deadlines, birthdays.  She does everything and very well.  She’s organized and polite and smart and just every darn thing that a woman should be.  And she mentioned that her mom’s friend was permissive and disorganized and creative and always laughing- I just remembered she did say that.  And, yea.  Perhaps I am very much like her mom’s friend. After all, I was an hour late to do my part at this luncheon today and I forgot to bring money to pay since I forgot to pay in advance and the battery of my phone conked out in the middle so I couldn’t tell what time it was.

  And then there’s the fact that my friend on her birthday gave herself a concussion.  I asked her who she called- since she didn’t call me (and I’m a bad friend for wishing her a happy birthday on facebook for crying out loud).  And she called no one.  Hello?  She calls me when there is a puzzle emergency, but not when she cracks her head on the driveway.  I mean, really.  Am I that irresponsible?  I do know where the emergency room is.  We’ve been there several times.

  Back to the waking up in the middle of the night thinking about a random person who just died.  I mentioned a book I recently read that addresses just this sort of thing, but that I didn’t think she’d be interested in it.  (Tao of Psychology.  Very interesting. thank you @songoftheheart for clueing me in.)  Then we went on our merry way.  A little while later I got a message from her asking about the book while she was near my house.  Well, I actually missed the message because I was at her house delivering the book to her completely flabbergasted hubby (with the luncheon money slipped in.)

  And then she said to me “I’m glad you’re in my life. We should hang out more.”  And I answered, “I completely agree, but next time you get a concussion, you’d better call me.”  Of course this is all through facebook messages, because I can’t have too much live interaction in a day or something scary might happen.

  So I might die alone and molding in an apartment someday, but as long as there’s facebook my friend will know right away?

  Awkward change of topic.

  OBL wanted to see my jelly creations.  The stuff on the right, which is very light pink, is the violet jelly that is actually jelly but not very violet.  The stuff on the left which is totally twangy and divine and a fabulous red but not jelly at all (even though I tried 3 times.  apparently it’s best to follow the recipe exactly.  who knew) is red bud “jelly”.  We’re thinking ice cream topping and daiquiri flavoring or something. 

  

  I reserve the right to write poetry tomorrow for npm.  Because I’m always late.  So there.

  • 10:21 pm
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