Absentminded

There comes a point where you just have to learn to laugh at yourself.

I've always had a reputation of being a bit spacey and totally unaware of what's going on around me if I'm really thinking about something.

Yesterday I drove Emily up to Portland to catch her plane back to Virginia.

And then I bummed around a few secondhand stores for a while.

And then I headed home, down I-5. I briefly thought about visiting my brother Phil and his family near Canby but decided they're too far off the freeway and I'm too tired. I also thought about pulling off to sleep for a while, but decided not to.

Shortly after I came home I got a message from my sister-in-law Geneva: "Let me guess where you were at about 4 today. Wilsonville I-5. Am I good or what?!"

I was flummoxed. How did she know?

Next message: Check your facebook!

There I read: "Phil has been snickering since walking in the door! Dorcas was deep in thought and oblivious to the pranks he played on her today!"

I called Geneva. She could hardly tell me the story for laughing. Phil was driving home from work and there I was, toodling down I-5. He drove along beside me and waved and tried to get my attention, but to absolutely no avail. (I don't think he has a cell phone, so he couldn't call.)

Arrgghh. Embarrassing. And disappointing. It would have been fun to stop and have coffee together.

"What should he have done to get your attention?" Geneva wondered.

I said, "Well, it's a good thing he didn't honk, because I would have screamed and driven off the road."

"Yeah, that's what Phil said too." I could just see Geneva rocking forward and back, hand over her mouth, bubbling with mirthful giggles.

You know, there comes a point where you might as well laugh with everyone else because you are on the dark side of 40 and there's no way you'll ever change.

Quote of the Day:
"Jason is my favorite Yoder cousin. I like him because he's so tolerant of me."
--Jenny. Anyone who has seen her persecuting Jason will understand.