So here is something really dumb that I did last weekend:
We had a busy weekend coming up. An out of town wedding, Tom's cousin's daughter was going to be married in Madison and we were going to stay overnight at a nearby hotel. Before going though we had a wake to attend Friday night. It was a man who we barely knew, who lived a few miles down the road from us - which counts as a neighbor out here in the middle of nowhere. Also, his grandson is a good friend of our son. So, on Friday I shop for groceries and pick up, so things are ready for the house sitter, who is actually needed to care for the dog, not the house, but is still referred to as a house sitter (or as Derek). Also, I am so organized that I buy cards for the upcoming events ahead, instead of detouring to pick one up on the way to each event. So, Friday night, I sign the first card and stuff money in the envelope in the parking lot of the funeral parlor, just before walking in. (I can't be totally organized, you know!) We go in, meet, greet, extend our sympathies and head home to pack. The next morning we leave for the wedding at the crack of 11:00 AM. We still get there in time to check into the hotel first, where we meet a cousin of Tom's and his wife (aka Scutter and Mary Kay). So, by mutual concent they ride to the wedding with us. Once again in the parking lot right before the service, I sign the card and stuff money in the envelope. Just as I stick the card in I notice on the front it says 'With Deepest Sympathy'
I show Tom. He very helpfully screams, 'You're the one who filled out the cards!' Yes dear. (so glad he reminded me that this is totally MY FAULT) So, now as I'm trying to remember just what the other card said (something like 'As You Begin Your New Life?) Mary Kay sees the card and begins to cackle. Then we are all laughing, but inside I die a little. Tom suggests we send a card from home, and no one will ever know the difference. Good plan, until we walk in and say hi to the father of the bride, Emma. (No, it's not a really hip and liberal family, Emma is a very misguided nickname for 'John'. Anyway, before we even say hi, Mary Kay blares loud enough for everyone in the county to hear, "Tell him about the card!" Well, what can I do? I can think of several options but only one that's not a felony, so I tell the whole story. We laugh until we cry. By the end of the evening every guest at the wedding knows, and I'm wondering if there is an equivalent of a witness protection program for people who commit stupid,social blunders. And, I'm also thinking about how to apologize to the people on the funeral end of this debacle.
Back home the next afternoon I call the widow, Mary, to explain and apologize profusely. She is so nice about it; laughs then says she doesn't remember seeing any wedding cards. But she is just going to write thank you cards this afternoon, and will let me know when she comes across my card. About 90 seconds later I get a call back from Mary. She tells me I sent her a very nice SYMPATHY card. So, good news - bad news. I didn't screw up both events this weekend, but I confessed for no reason. Here I could have had one person not realize what a disorganized nut-job I am. Oh well. Of course, the real mystery is: What happened to the wedding card? I have two theories on this.
1. When I picked up the sympathy card I accidentally grabbed two, and there is still a wedding card floating around somewhere in the depths of my purse, or
2. The wedding card I bought actually changed on a molecular level, and transformed into a sympathy card - which, I believe, does not bode well for that marriage!
Ok, lots of silly stuff, not a lot of paragraphs, and no poetry! The next entry here will be a poem - I promise!