Jams - brightly colored long shorts worn in the 80's

When I feel like a total idiot I lose my appetite.  I've had yogurt and fresh figs(off of my trees.)  That's it and I'm not hungry.  A call from my daughter this afternoon pretty much destroyed my thoughts of dinner.  She said, "Mom, there is something missing in the invitations."  My heart sank cause I'm the one that stuffed them, sealed them, and mailed them.  How could I forget the map? No, the RSVP card? No, the.......time of the wedding. Oh good grief.  Apparently people who don't have the good taste to RSVP will simply not know what time the wedding starts.  I just hope this feeling of being really stupid passes by tomorrow morning. 

I did not weigh this morning.  It was my first day doing part-time tutoring.  I was occupied with teacher thoughts.  I did pack my bag for the gym.  I did go work out at lunch.  Hour on the elliptical, little swimming for the stretching.  Worked up a good sweat.  It was wonderful to see my friend at the gym.  I'm so proud of her.  It takes such commitment.  But, the time you start exercising is a very personal choice.  My timing was perfect when I got fed up with being angry about things I could not control.
I dawned on me the only thing I can really control was my hand as it put things in my mouth.

Now to what my daughter calls my interesting life.  I'll try to recall events in my life based on the person.  Since I started with my Dad, I'll continue with him.  My Dad would say to my Mom often, "I'm worth more dead than alive." He wasn't being sarcastic or spiteful, just truthful.  After serving in WWII, he did not seem to fear much of anything.  In what most people would call a dangerous situation, my father usually just got angry.  Very angry.  He was only 5'9" or so.  Not fat, not thin.  Just average but on the short side I suppose.  His anger was the quiet kind. The kind you witness mostly in the jaw muscles of a man's face.  He didn't raise his voice and spoke through clenched teeth when he was very upset. Around 11 pm one night at the motel he had just checked in a customer.   It was the normal practice at the motel to lock the front doors when the restaurant closed.  As the customer left the desk, Dad stayed put to finish up paperwork. (I would always show the customer to the door and lock it behind them.) He looked up just as a young man in jams was entering the lobby.  Dad told me later he noticed no car.  In our family we always talk about red flags.  No car when pulling up to a motel is one red flag.  The young man said he needed a room.  My father said I'll need to see your driver's license.  The man replied, "How about taking a look at this," as he brought the gun up and pointed it directly at my father.  I guess you could say no more red flags were needed in this scenario.  The conversation stopped abruptly as my father took an instinctive step backwards and flipped over a trash can.  The flip hurt my father so bad he screamed in pain and assumed he had been shot in the back.  The flip shocked the robber so bad he fled after jumping over the counter and trying unsuccessfully to get into the cash register. All the while my father was crawling on his hands and knees, screaming "I've been shot! I've been shot! " so my mother in the apartment will hear him. She ran out, assured him there is no blood anywhere.  He grabbed his gun that always rested by the register and he ran out to the parking lot shooting bullets into the air, cussing and screaming at the robbers.  His reasoning, he informed us later, is that he wanted the robbers to know he had a gun and that he knew how to shoot it.  My Dad wore a back brace for months after this.  I love this story and I can picture both my parents.  My Dad survived just by sheer luck.  And my Mom didn't falter or stop to think what might be waiting in the lobby.  She just ran head first to try to help him. 

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah