Saturday, January 27, 2007

You've got the wrong one again!

Earlier this week, my grandmother turned 91. Even at that age, she's still very sharp (at least compared to the rest of us in the family). However, she doesn't hear that well, and she won't wear her hearing aids, so you have to talk to her VERY LOUDLY.

She also gets me and my brother confused. I've been known to get Christmas cards from her to "Don and family" even though Ron is the one who is married with a kid, and I'm ... uh, not. She also thinks Ron lives in Austin. I don't really fault her for that since we are twins, and she's not the only one who gets us confused (see My brother Ron is a PIG!).

I sent my grandmother a birthday card, and I was trying to call her to wish her a happy birthday. Normally, you have to catch her near the phone or someone else has to be there to hear it, but I couldn't get anyone to answer all morning.

I called my brother to make sure I had the right number, and I did. He said he had talked to her 10 minutes earlier, and although no one was at the house when he called, he said Dad was up there visiting so I might be able to get through when he's back at the house. He also said she thanked him for the birthday card, but since he didn't send one he assumed she thought he was me. He said he just went along with it and told her she was welcome.

I kept trying to call and finally got through later that afternoon. I wished her happy birthday (loudly). My niece has the same birthday as my grandmother (just 85 years apart), so she asked me if my daughter had received her card yet. I planned on going along with her until I heard my dad yelling in the background, "You've got the wrong one again!"

It didn't matter anyway. She didn't hear me still talking, so she said her goodbyes and hung up on me.

Monday, January 15, 2007

The Ranch Style Beans Incident

Back in the summer of 1987, my incredibly handsome twin brother Ron and I were walking around the mall one Saturday to kill time. One of our friends --- let's call him Richard B. (because that's his name) --- saw us and invited us to a pool party his parents were having. Since it involved free food (which we Youngs never turn down), we said, "Sure!" and headed over to their house.

We arrived at Richard's house and were introduced to his parents. The parents had a few guests of their own, but it wasn't too crowded. The food was ready when we arrived, which included bratwurst and Ranch Style Beans, something I think is the second greatest invention of all time. (The first is Cheeseburger Macaroni Hamburger Helper ... duh!)

After a little bit of food, a little bit of swimming, a little more food, and a little more swimming, I decided to go for thirds on the Ranch Style Beans. I know, it sounds like I was being a pig, but in my defense, I was only going to get a couple more bites. Plus, everyone else had already eaten at least one helping.

As I was spooning out the beans, I noticed Richard's mom, Mrs. B., was glaring at me. Apparently, she thought I was taking more than my fair share. "Well, why don't you just take the whole damn pan?" she said with a hint of disgust.

Looking back, a mature person would have explained that he was just getting a small amount and that everyone had already had a helping or two, but being mature is something I'm rarely accused of. As Mrs. B. gave me the evil eye, I glared back at her, dumped the entire pan of beans on my plate, and ate every bit of it. Yes, it was way too much food, and yes, my stomach hurt after, but I was going to win this battle of wills. And I think I did.

Surprisingly enough, Mrs. B. never really liked me that much.

EPILOGUE: A few years ago, Richard's lovely sister was my date to a Halloween party. In addition to the pictures we took of us in costume, we also took one with the both of us holding a can of Ranch Style Beans as a memento for Mrs. B.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

They say the memory is the second thing to go

They say the memory is the second thing to go. I was reminded of this when I was at the grocery store this morning. After selecting all of my items and going through the checkout line, I realized I had forgotten my wallet. As nice as the employees are, they weren't going to let me pay with my striking looks and incredible wit. However, they were nice enough to hold my groceries while I drove home to get my wallet. It's fortunate that I lived close by.

I have an excellent memory. Anyone who's had to listen to one of my stories told in excruciating detail can attest to that. I remember my first crush. I remember quotes from obscure movies. I remember the two interceptions I made during my high school football career. I remember the time Ron dove into a swimming pool, hitting my head with his head, causing each of us to get 5 stitches.

But I've forgotten some things, too. I don't remember going to a friend's wedding, even though she has a picture of me standing next to her at the reception. A few years ago, I was filling up the tub for a bath, and I went off to do other chores. Thirty minutes later, I realized that I'd left the water running. When I went to check on the bathroom, I found out that I had forgotten to turn the water on.

They say the memory is the second thing to go.

"What's the first thing to go?"

I don't remember.