I Have A Twin...Apparently

This afternoon I went to a book signing by a local author. As I approached the table the author looked up and said, ‘Well, there’s my favorite cousin’. Immediately, my mind started churning trying to come up with the connection. It wasn’t an unreasonable presumption that I was somehow related to this individual. I’ve often said that you can’t spit around here without hitting one of my cousins. My mom is one of 10 and my father is one of 5. Both of my parents are from very prolific families and have dozens of cousins of their own. So I’m often told by someone that they are my cousin and I have no earthly idea where they are connected.

As I stood there smiling like an idiot trying to ascertain the relationship the author wrote in my book: ‘To Cindy, my favorite cousin.’

I became embarrassed, but at a loss as to how to correct the mistaken identity without embarrassing this author. But I didn’t get an opportunity because he began introducing me to his co-author who signed my book and said, ‘You’re related to this guy?’ Before I could answer he said, ‘Yes, she’s my cousin.’ Oh dear. So I kept on smiling as they handed my book to a third person sitting there who had written a short story in the book.

And then to complete the awkwardness… the author decided to take a picture. So I stood there smiling and holding my book while he took my picture. Well, now there is evidence of the mistake. Crap. I can envision him showing the picture around to family and someone saying, ‘That’s not Cindy.’ The author will then wonder who came to his book signing with an uncanny resemblance to his cousin. He will also probably wonder why I didn’t correct the mistake. I’m wondering that myself.

But I was very amused. Normally, I would have hung around and visited with the group a bit. But I decided a quick escape would be the best way to avoid further embarrassment and awkwardness for both of us. So I quickly walked out of the bookstore and straight to my car grinning like an idiot. When I had closed the door, started the engine and cranked the stereo, I burst out laughing. Then I laughed all the way home.

iWof asked me what was so funny when I walked in the house chuckling. iWof is very literal. I recanted the story and he said, ‘But now you have a book that says: To Cindy.’ I explained, ‘But that’s the beauty of it. It’s a great story and so funny. I have this autographed book and a really funny story.’ He finally saw the humor. I asked him if he thought I should have corrected the guy. He said no it would have embarrassed him.

The whole incident explains a lot. Often, when I am out and about people come up to me and start talking like they know me. Most of the time I have no freaking idea what they are talking about but I go with it. I’m always afraid it is someone I’ve met and just don’t remember. I have that memory thing going on, you know. So I’ve gotten really good at smiling and nodding and going with the flow until the painful conversation ends. Maybe people think I am Cindy. Perhaps by the time they realize their error it is just too darned awkward to correct their mistake.

But WOW. I have a twin named Cindy. We look so much alike that even our relatives are fooled. Maybe there is something my mother isn’t telling me……….

Update: I told my friend That'sSoS about the incident. I told her when she published her book I wanted her to sign my copy to Cindy. She said no, she would sign Cindy's copy to Rene. TSS is all about the balance. I'm all about the comedy.

Talk Like A Pirate

My friend, ImTheXFactor, had a birthday yesterday. But yesterday was a crazy day with a pending deadline, my nutbag family stressing me out, missing my daily overdose of Hinder, a wedding shower luncheon, important decisions like whether to change my hair color and well… taking a 4 hour nap. As a result, I didn’t get the note out to ITXF before midnight.

And then I slept some more. So it was late this morning before I got around to sending him birthday greetings.

He was surprised to hear from me and asked how I remembered it was his birthday. I told him it was hard to forget someone who was born on ‘Talk Like a Pirate Day’. He sent a note back that said, ‘True! I wish I were a pirate. Guess I was born at the wrong time.’

I texted back: You would really rock the eye patch.

His response: Plus I love rum, wenches, and booty.

Now you see why we’re friends?

E-mail From My Mom

Mom: Can I move in with you?
Me: Do you clean toilets?
Mom: I have been known to.

Before You Call And Ask Me to Work on Your Computer

Please read this article.   Thanks. 

I Got Taken Down Notch Today

I totally deserved it. The experience was sobering.

Sometimes I am in the vicinity of people that don’t hit my radar screen. My monkeysphere is rather small. (Wow, that probably implies that my brain is small……... Oh well, that’s no revelation.)

We have a janitorial person who comes in the evening and empties the trash in our offices. I’ve never paid her much regard other than to be quite freaked out at times because she wonders around having conversations with herself. I will admit to noting at least once, as I passed by, that she was in the break room, possibly very upset. But I didn’t take the time to see if I could do anything for her. I didn’t even take the time to confirm that she was maybe very upset about something. I was at work after all and I’m just a machine. Actually, that’s arrogant, I’m not even the whole machine; I’m just a cog. (Sarcasm? You. Bet.) Really, I just didn’t want to risk getting pulled into a long drawn out drama. There was this thing called work and I had to go do it.

It means I’m just one of the herd. I am, in fact, no better than some of the people in our department that have a nickname for this lady. They call her Jingles. Jingles because she has keys clipped to her belt or on her lanyard or someplace, that jingle like Christmas bells when she walks. We always know where she is because we hear the keys jingling. Well that and we hear her talking to herself. Which she does, but I did note recently that she wears an earpiece and sometimes walks around talking on the phone and only appears to be talking to herself. That was the day she was in the next stall of the bathroom talking while using the facility; which sorta freaked me out too.

So don’t call me while you are using the can. Please?

And that is absolutely all I knew about Jingles, whose name is Brenda, it turns out, before this afternoon. All I knew other than the fact that she drives a really junky vehicle that leaks oil all over the parking lot. A mess that gets really slick when mixed with a little rain and all the bird crap that litters the IT parking lot.

It turns out that Brenda has a really tough life. When my coworker was describing her life I said, ‘So she has spent her life existing, instead of living.’ Then I got that feeling in my chest that makes it hard to breathe.

We were talking about Brenda because I was getting ready to throw out some food that I had purchased for lunch and decided not to eat. My coworker said, ‘Wait a minute, don’t throw it away. I will see if Brenda the janitor lady wants it. She doesn’t have much in the way of food and she might like to have that.’

I said, ‘Are you sure, it doesn’t look very good?’

Then she started telling me all the things she knew about Brenda. I mentioned her vehicle and my coworker said, ‘You know that car was destroyed in the tornado. She lost everything and was living in some camper last time we talked. She didn’t have much before she lost it all. She doesn’t have any family around here. She has some adult children that live in Texas, but she doesn’t get to see them very often.’

I said, ‘To be honest, she makes me a little uncomfortable when she goes around talking to herself. I worry that someone like that will snap and where do you go then?’

Here is the part where I was shot off my high horse……

My coworker, a dear friend and a very nice lady said, ‘You know, one should be careful not to judge, you just never know what people are enduring. I know people here make fun of her and they really shouldn’t. She is just trying to get by the best way she can.’

True that. It never occurred to me I was being judgmental. I was just confessing that the woman makes me uncomfortable. But even if it’s bloody honest, I should have kept it to myself. Little things we say can unintentionally make a big impact on another person’s perception.

We all go through shit. Some of us punch a heavy bag. Some of us drive like a bat out of hell. Some of us yell at our loved ones. Some of us cuss like a sailor. Some of us cry. Some of us drink. Some of us do all of the above. And some of us walk around talking to ourselves.

You deal with the poo that is flung in your direction in whatever way that keeps your heart from exploding. And none of us should judge anyone even if they are clinically insane. Some people were just built (or learned) to cope with flying poo better than others.

And there my friends, is where the rubber meets the road. I stand humbly chastised and ask for your forgiveness.

Santa's Reindeers

If I had named the reindeers this would be their names:  Tequila, Martini, Brandy, Scotch, Vodka, Whiskey, Rum, Wine and Gin Blossom.

Summer, I'm Not Finished With You YET!

Summer is NOT over. Yeah, I know, we had to turn the pool heater back on, the kids went back to school, Walgreens reopened. But summer isn’t over. I will hold on to summer until I am dragged by my hair kicking and screaming into the first frost.

Because of the May 22^nd tornado that kicked off summer around here, a lot of people are ready for this summer of clean up to be over. They are ready to move on to better times. I can’t blame them. But I’m not ready for the return of short dark days, SAD and cold that seeps into your bones and never lets up until the first dandelion. Summer is too short.

While everyone else was lamenting the 29 days we were 100 degrees or over, I was reveling in it. I know, I know. All of our utility bills were higher thanks to the heat. Flip flops were melting to pavement. Chickens were laying hard boiled eggs. The grass was burned to a flaky crisp. But it was summer glorious summer. And I love it. I do not want to say goodbye to my friend. I do not want to say goodbye to smaller wash loads due to smaller clothing. I do not want to say good bye to fresh cantaloupe. I do not want to say good bye to long lazy evenings floating on the pool and watching for shapes in the clouds. I am not ready to move on.