Double Indignity

Frequently I look around and wonder...what train is this? How did I get here? WHERE THE HELL IS THIS GOING?

Such ruminations are pointless because...I'm in a wind tunnel. Circumstances put me in a really weird place at this time in life and...all you can do is buckle up and hang on. (I'm 52 years old. My oldest child is 28, my youngest child is eight and there's one in the middle. No, I didn't do it on purpose. Yes, I know what causes it but IT NEVER CAUSED IT BEFORE.)

The Not Nice Kid, the youngest one, is a spectacular athlete. She is...awesome. And a pleasure to watch if you are her mother and...you can't run and spit at the same time. True story. Back when I....wasn't just someone's mother...I was a fitness nut. And I ran 10K's with my buddy, Tim. (Another true story...Tim called one night to pick a time to meet me the next day and The Big Boy answered the phone, handed it to me and said, "Here. It's your side dick." IT WASN'T, but that was really funny.) And Tim and I would run in the winter and, if you've ever done this you know about the mucus thing, I'd have to stop and spit. And Tim would say, "Why did you stop?" and I'd say, "I had to spit," and he'd say, "But why did you stop?" and I'd repeat, "I had to spit," and then...that guy would round first. Base. HOWEVER, we took a spring and Tim taught me how to run and spit at the same time, without stopping.

As I said, true story. And the reason I am so amazed at TNNK's abilities.

Point: Basketball season ended a couple of weeks ago and at the end of the game this man comes up and sits down on the bleachers next to my mom and me. He was there to recruit TNNK to play AAU basketball out of Tennessee. She's that good. But he climbs the bleachers, sits down and asks, "Is number 11 your granddaughter?"

Well. Hellfire.

Actually...be honest. This is rural northern Alabama and...she very well could be. She very well SHOULD be but...no. She's not my granddaughter. She's mine. And that would be the GRANDMOTHER sitting next to you.

But we laughed (as we've done before) because be honest...the guy wasn't out of line. It's the AGE thing. And we talked and compared relatives (that rural Alabama thing) and swapped numbers and laughed some more.

And then I will be damned if I didn't walk into WalMart this morning (sick kid...no one else sells cold medicine at 7:30 in the morning) and THE BITCH CARDED ME. For a case of beer. And no, I didn't have my driver's license...I DON'T CARRY A PURSE. I have an Amex in my pocket and I have my driver's license number and social security number and phone number and house number and ALL THE IMPORTANT NUMBERS memorized but...no. I don't have a photo ID. And no, there is no question in YOUR mind that I have not yet reached the age of 21.

No. Question. At. All.

Just ask that guy in the bleachers. He'll go get me a wheelchair and some Geritol if I ask.