This morning, totally unprovoked, the McDonald’s drive thru cashier told me that she’d bought the wrong sized bra, and it was killing her. Then when I got to work, a man I have never seen spent several minutes discussing my recent desk/cube move. (I moved. The desk stayed where it was.) Do I have a big sign on my forehead that says “tell me anything”? Do these people think that I am someone else? Do I have an evil twin somewhere in this city?
Because if I do, she’d better get her act together and clean my house!
Or maybe I’m just getting to be (more) like my dad. My mom, sister and I used to go shopping at the mall, and leave him sitting on a bench next to the fountain. Invariably, when we came back around on our circuit, he would have a story about some stranger who felt compelled to tell him any number of random things.
Or maybe, it’s the fact that I have been making it a habit to say “hi” to people in the hall, and consequently, they feel like they need to give me their life story. Are people really that desperate that they spill to anyone who is kind enough to talk to them in the hall? Because that is just sad. And now I feel guilty for wondering why they are all talking to me.
I finally gave up trying to find the quilt pattern that I bought all the fabric for, and decided that I would put my mad math skills to the test and figure out how many squares, and of what size, I would need to make a King sized quilt. My math skills really aren’t that mad, truthfully, so I hope I calculated correctly, because I already cut the fabric into zillions of 8 inch squares. Okay, not zillions, but enough that I don’t want to have to figure out something else to do with them in the event that my quilt turns out to be more crib sized than King sized. At any rate, I did get the fabric cut, and I was able to wheel my cutting table back into the closet, and roll my sewing table out. I’m quite certain that I bought thread when I initially bought the fabric, but I am also just as certain that I won’t be able to find it until I buy more, so unless there is a small miracle tonight, I may not actually start sewing for weeks. One step at a time….
Karate continues to be a test of my confidence, as well as my overwhelming tendency to “mother” the other students, even the adults. I very rarely make contact with anyone while we are pretending to beat each other up, but I did manage to stomp the toes of one guy immediately after I smacked him in the nose. And all I could do was apologize and hope that he wouldn’t retaliate. Luckily, he’s a black belt in tae kwon do, so even though he’s in the beginning karate class, he’s more than used to being beat up in the name of exercise. One of the other guys, although several belts above me (who isn’t?), and who participates in tough man contests, probably weighs 130 pounds. So when the instructor tells me that I’m supposed to wrap my arms around his neck and knee him as hard as I can? Well, that’s just a little awkward for me. Of course the guy could totally kick my butt, but still. They are all younger than me (who isn’t?), and even the ones over 21 make me feel sooooo old. I said “wax on, wax off” and NO ONE GOT IT. Maybe the reason they are all so nice is because they think I have a chemical imbalance. At any rate, I’m still going, so one of these days maybe a new white belt will come in and be in awe of the old lady praticing the crane kick in the corner…..