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Let me tell you my week's worth of stresses. Just typical stuff,
really. First, we have been preparing for the first day of school,
meeting teachers, filling out forms and buying supplies. Second, I
sent a new cell phone by UPS to my son who goes to college five
hours away. The package was somehow lost and now we have to get him
another phone and go through the hassles of an insurance claim with
UPS. Always fun.
Third, I have been practicing a monologue for a speech I'm to
give at the end of this month. The monologue is "Mrs. Gilhooey's
Bungaloo." She is an old Scottish cook who inherits a bungalow when
her employer dies. She found 12 bottles of champagne in the cellar
and, because of Prohibition, she decides to "turn them oopside doon
into the sink and empty all of the contints, all excipt a small
woine glass full ... which Oi drank." By the last of the 12 bottles,
she is happily smashed and trying to count the bottles as they
"revolve 'round me loike the meery-go-round at Cooney Island."
Lastly, though not a stress, but still obviously on my mind, my
mother called to tell me that she got a hole-in-one while out
golfing yesterday. While I know next to nothing about golf, I do
know that a hole-in-one is nearly impossible -- more so for a
well-over-par golfer with a high handicap, like my mother. I can't
help but wonder what cosmic event happened that made that little
white ball decide to enter that little hole on her very first shot.
These four episodes collided with each other in my dreams and
made for a very interesting night.
It started in a dollar store. My mom and I were sauntering around
the store. I was buying school supplies and my mom was sporting a
9-iron. Not because that's the club she used to get her hole-in-one,
but because that's the only club I know the name of.
Mrs. Gilhooey came in, three sheets to the wind, and asked my
mother, "How mooch diz this cell phone cost?"
My mother answered, "I don't know, but this wide-ruled paper has
three holes-in-one."
"One dollar," I said sarcastically. They both looked at me loike
I wiz out of me moind. "Hey, this is my dream, stop narrating in
Scottish! And, by the way, we're in a dollar store! Everything is a
dollar!"
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A little miffed and more than a little schnockered, Mrs. Gilhooey
said, "Now, Oi moight not have it a-right, boot Oi say thet three
holes-in-one would bring more then one dollar." "Yeah! What she
said!" yelled my mom, brandishing her 9-iron.
My son somehow came to my rescue by suddenly appearing in the
stationery aisle between me and my elderly assailants. He said,
"Yes, but cell phones only cost a dollar if you buy a two-year
contract with it. Oh, but wait... you lost my cell phone, right,
Mom?"
"I didn't lose it, UPS did. Say, aren't these protractors spiffy?
I'll take three of them."
"That's par for the course," my mom said, taking a hit of Mrs.
Gilhooey's champagne.
"What's par?" I asked.
"Three," said mom.
"You sid it wiz the woide-ruled paper," slurred Mrs. Gilhooey.
"That's holes," I explained.
"No, that's what grandma had -- in one," interrupted my son.
"Hold on, I'll call Dad to find out for sure. No wait ... you
lost my cell phone," he said, pointedly.
"Like your dad would know," I said.
I heard ringing. "There it is. The cell phone is still in the
package on someone else's porch. Quick, look for it while it's still
ringing!"
"Noo, noo, me frind. The ringin' is all in me head. Oi'm afraid
oi'm a bit stinky, ye know. Oi mane, Oi'm tinklin', noo, noo, Oi'm
tipsy, that's what Oi am.
"It's the school bell ringing, Laura," my mom said. "Hurry, the
children will be late for school!"
Actually, it was my alarm clock set for an ungodly hour so that I
can get used to school hours again. I could have lay down and gone
back to sleep, but ... it was a little too crowded in my dreams
right now.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
You can reach the writer at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
Or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more columns and info about her books. |
