I spent the weekend with my two teenage daughters at Time Out for Women and Girls (a fantastic mother-daughter bonding weekend by the way!). We arrived Friday evening at our hotel, parked in the garage, and rode the elevator up to the main lobby. When the elevator doors opened, I rolled my suitcase behind me, calling out to the girls, "Let's go find the elevator so we can find our room."
"Uh, mom." The girls stopped in a dead heat.
"Ya? Let's hurry so we have time for dinner." I turned around to see their stunned faces.
"Uh, we just got off the elevator." There voices said in tandem.
Time stood still. My eyes focused on the green-lit arrow button above the elevator doors from which we had emerged
"Oh. Well. We found it." I replied, rolling my bag back to the elevator doors. As I pushed the up button, I pretended I was completely in charge and knew exactly what I was doing. Funny thing is, the older I get the less I know exactly what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. Seriously? My over-forty brain just keeps surprising me. That same week, I came home, after three hours, expecting to smell chicken roasting in my crockpot. But, I smelled nothing. So, into the kitchen I went, only to find, as I lifted the lid an empty, burning hot crockpot was no chicken inside. And guess what the first thought into my brain was?
"Someone stole my poultry."
One second later, my brain corrected itself. "Nobody steals poultry. You never put the chicken in the crockpot to begin with!"
I opened the fridge to find my nicely, washed chicken staring back at me as if to say, "Lady, your elevator doesn't go all the way to the top!"
And the truth is...some days it just doesn't. 
No comments:
Post a Comment