O my God, You are the Giver of all good things, especially Jesus! This year, You’ve also given us an extra week of November to give thanks. To enjoy autumn and all things orange. OMG, You know I love Christmas. But can’t glitzy green and red wait until December?
On our first outing, my husband eyed me. “Some people need 12 hours to find their way out.”
“Ha!” I say.
But that’s all I can say. Maybe, I’ll exit before Thanksgiving. Or Christmas?
Like my mother before me, I possess zero sense of direction. Unfortunately, our daughter inherited something of our deficiency.
Her husband and mine took over. “No way are these kids getting lost with you.”
His brother backed away. “Grandma’s trying get rid of us!”
The men hurried the kids into the maze. Onlookers, fingers poised to dial 911, glared at my daughter and me.
The maze looked friendlier. I have always liked rustling cornfields, with thousands of leafy stalks whispering autumn secrets. Once we entered, though, other participants vanished. Where, exactly, were we?
My daughter said, “Let’s retrace our steps. We went this way, didn’t we?”
At the next intersection, I boldly pointed the way. “We came from this direction.”
“You think so?”
Cornstalks moaned with the wind. My skin prickled, but I summoned the confident tone that faked me through years of parenting. “As long as we see the barn, we’re fine.”
Suddenly, from the opposite direction, it pounced on us like a daytime goblin.
My daughter, who once hitchhiked a Mexican highway without fear, halted, eyes wide.
I checked my phone’s GPS.
“Recalculating …” The GPS Lady snickered. “Recalcu — bwahahaha!”
My daughter’s GPS Lady joined in. They loved the corn maze.
Us? Not so much.
Even if we never returned to eat pumpkin pie. (Sniff.)
Finally, my daughter straightened her shoulders. “We’re going about this all wrong.”
“Sure. Let’s walk away from the barn. At the next fork, close your eyes. Pick a path, any path. At the next one, I’ll do the same.”
“Right! That always works with interstate ramps.”
We found an exit. Before relief gave way to gloating, the guys emerged from another.
“Grandpa and I figured the way out from the sun’s angles!” one grandson crowed. “Did you do that, Grandma?”
“You used a GPS.” My husband sounded as if we were running a Ponzi scheme.
No, we had used our own special system, based on navigational instincts those guys couldn’t begin to understand.
My mother would have been proud.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Have you ever experienced a corn maze adventure?
October’s traditional holidays — Columbus Day and Halloween — have recently come under fire. The Internet graciously supplies us with alternatives, so now we can venerate these dehydrated fruits? — vegetables? — this month.
Wouldn’t it make more sense to celebrate in July, when tomatoes truly become one in spirit with plump, red humans who also roast and wrinkle in blazing sunshine?
October is also Class Reunion Month. However, we do not have to begin emergency diets, because has anybody ever held a class reunion in October?
But wait just one politically correct moment. Does this imply people who are not bald can’t be free on October 14? Sorry, but I doubt mass servitude of hairy people will fly as a holiday. Not even with Hallmark.
Neither do I celebrate Reptile Awareness Day (October 21). Are we supposed to kiss a crocodile? Snuggle with snakes? Once a family in my town discovered their new home’s previous owner had bequeathed them his pet python, who popped out of heating ducts to say hello.
I lived a half mile away. That’s as close to reptile awareness as I want to get.
If anyone wants to take up a better cause, I suggest he lobby to remove the bad-mood stigma from my favorite month.
True, our stressed society could benefit from the International Moment of Frustration Scream Day on October 12, releasing pent-up feelings toward TV political coverage, souped-up leaf blowers and motorists who honk at stoplights. Following up with National Kick Butt Day on the 13th might, paradoxically, prove a bottomless delight.
But October has gone overboard with National Grouch Day (the 15th) and Cranky Coworkers Day (the 27th). It has even been chosen as National Sarcastic Awareness Month. Gre-e-eat. We’re supposed to cheer every 16-year-old who rolls her eyes? Maybe even crown Miss Supreme Sarcasm?
We also are expected to choose a Menopause Queen to celebrate World Menopause Day on October 18. Riding a parade float, she and her royal court will throw plates at cowering crowds while a band plays “We’re Having a Heat Wave” and hot-flash drill teams fan each other with flags.
October used to be a nice, simple month.
I’d hoped November would improve the holiday outlook. But, no. November begins with Plan Your Epitaph Day (November 2). I see that on the 19th, we are to celebrate Have a Bad Day Day.
How about we skip ’em all?
Instead, let’s celebrate Thanksgiving every day!
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What’s your favorite way to celebrate October?
O my God, thank You for October, with its colorful leaves and pumpkin-spice everything. But some of Your humans have declared it National Liver Awareness Month. OMG, do You think we should spend 30 days thinking about liver? After half a century, I’m still trying to forget my mother made me taste it.
No doubt, our Creator appreciates gratitude for freedom to worship Him, for family, friends, food and shelter. But my cornucopia also bursts with weird things for which I am thankful, including:
- Avocados. As a missionary kid in Mexico, I picked them up like apples under big trees. I still am a guacamole junkie. How many other fattening foods are good for me?
- Shots. Immunizations don’t rank as my preferred activity, and certainly not my grandchildren’s. But because of shots’ protection, holiday hugs and kisses induce only mild winter plagues.
- Black, washable pants. They love sparkly holiday tops and simple ones. They’re immune to stains and grandbaby spit. Roomy in the rear, they don’t desert me after the holidays, as many of my clothes do.
- My piano. I don’t own a grand or even a baby grand. But my little Baldwin comprised our first major purchase after Hubby finished medical school. I thought we should spend his first paychecks on practical items. He insisted, “You miss having a piano.” Whenever I play, it still sings a love song.
- Our baby trees, whose lanky little branches and colorful fall foliage inspire me with lavish dreams for their future.
- Our camper. The one Hubby purchased when I was too sick to fight it. Even sitting idle, it sets us free. Already, we picture days in the green woods and s’mores around campfires on starry nights.
- Gummy worms. Incredibly lifelike, they possess magical powers. When decorating a grandson’s birthday cake, they enable me to resist eating it.
- Our brown sofa. Thank God, Hubby talked me out of buying a red one. Otherwise, after eight years, it would present a less-than-artistic mosaic of peanut butter, jelly, pizza, mustard and gravy stains. Because of, um, the grandchildren. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
- My neighbor’s yard. Raked and pristine, it gives me a goal to shoot for when I grow up.
- Free chips and salsa. A highlight of dining in Mexican restaurants.
- Laid-back drivers. People who drive sl-ow-ly on two-lane highways annoy me to the point I pray aloud to occupy mind and mouth. They even force me to notice the loveliness I miss when whipping by as usual.
- Accelerators. Cars wouldn’t be much good without them, right?
- Ditto for brakes. And headlights.
- Paper towels. While living in Ecuador for two months, I missed them terribly. (Thank goodness, Ecuador did manufacture toilet paper.)
- Baby smiles. They always ruin a bad day.
A critic might protest, “Your list goes on forever!”
True. I never run out of weird things for which to be thankful, because my Creator never, ever stops giving.
He’s weird that way — and wonderful.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What odd reasons for gratitude pop up on your list?
O my God, thank You for making Hubby and I unique individuals. But now that it’s October, he wants to turn on the heat. I still want to throw open windows. OMG, for us, marriage gives a whole new meaning to “hot woman” and “cool guy.”