an introvert on the rack

lunch 2

Today is our son in law’s birthday. I have a son in law (Mr Boy) who is 40! That is what happens when you are a child bride and have your first child at the age of 21, before you know it you have a 40 year old son in law! (Daughter1 has just turned 34).

They hosted a small luncheon at a local bowls club where we were treated to a lovely barbeque lunch and birthday cake, as well as the chance to play barefoot bowls and listen to the Sunday jazz session. Mr Boy has lovely friends so it was a very pleasant few hours.

It is a strange sensation becoming the “older generation”. At 55 I don’t consider myself “old” but with the passing of Mr FD’s parents, my Dad and a few other elder relatives it does seem that we are the elder generation at family events now.

There is a certain status one achieves. There is certainly a tone of respect from the “younger” generations. What I enjoy the most being a closet introvert, is that there is less onus on having to be a social butterfly. If I want to sit quietly in the corner no one thinks anything of it. I can be a wallflower to my heart’s content.

I did have one moment where I channelled my more extroverted sister and conducted a conversation with one of Mr Boy’s close friends in which I initiated a conversation with a line of inquiry to discover his occupation as a way to appear friendly. My sister can work a room and by the end of the event will have the life story of just about every attendee, discovered at least two long lost relatives and make such an impact that she will receive Christmas cards from complete strangers for the next 12 years. It comes as no news alert that I, on the other hand, am more your bah humbug  introverted type who finds being nice exhausting.

However, in this instance I took one for the son in law and embarked on a “Oh I have forgotten what line of employment you are in” as if I had ever known with one of his friends.

This was where the flaw in my plan became instantly evident, for he replied,”I work for AKX” as if I should be immediately aware of what AKX stood for. More acronyms followed. He worked in JSR and met Mr Boy when he worked in the CFV department. On and on it went and I could garner no further hints as to what he did or where he did it. Nothing he said seemed to align with what Mr Boy did as a food technologist.

I looked from Mr FD and Son who sat on either side, mute as stone. The cavalry was not coming. Later, I learned that Son knew exactly what the gentlemen did and for whom, for which I informed Son that he should not consider it likely that he shall inherit the Wedgwood collection (jasper blue).

Through a process of generic questioning I learned that he had worked there for 16 years, after arriving from England. He worked with very nice people, many of whom had been there for a long time. It got to the point where I had to admit that I had no idea what he was speaking about as I wasn’t familiar with the industry acronyms or jargon, or start on a line of questioning that could lead to learning the colour of his boxer shorts, when the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow arrived.

“I didn’t have a background in computers but did some work with excel and that led to…”

At the mention of software, things clicked for Mr FD and he took over the conversation. I gulped the last of my glass of wine and came up for fresh air.

Let that be a lesson to you, never go against your natural instincts.

Telling an introvert to go to a party is like telling a saint to go to Hell.”
― Criss Jami

no alcohol involved

woman-with-shoping-trolley

I met Minerva the Library Aide in the shopping mall and we were walking towards the car park when Minerva announced that her mother had parked her car somewhere, but she didn’t know where. My car was closer so I offered to drive Minerva around the car park levels to locate her car.

We jumped onto a red two wheeled shopping trolley that I was ‘driving’ while Minerva sat behind. We were charging up a ramp and I was asking Minerva to tell me the way as the sun was in my eyes when we shot off the end of the ramp and started falling 10 storeys towards the ground.

Everything went into slow motion and I was thinking ‘I am facing my biggest fear’ which is a fear of heights, and seeing cement pavement below, but trees to the right and then knowing that I had to somehow glide us into a softer landing in the treetops.

We almost made it, falling against a paling fence that I somehow gripped with my fingertips. Minerva and I walked around to see where we could so easily have fallen onto the pavement and then realised that the shopping trolley and all our belongings had been taken.

My back was aching as we walked back through the shopping mall, where we met Minerva’s mother and Mr FD who sympathised with us, before we moved on to find out belongings sitting behind the check out. We complained to the store manager that the car ramp should have had a safety rail so the manager offered us compensation – a three pack of cleaning products!

 

Even my near death dream experiences suck!

it’s called sympathy

Lying in bed and not feeling well, I moaned to Mr FD that “my life is shitty!”

“Yes,” replied dear heart, “and if you lived in a shed, it would be sheddy and if you lived under a tree it would be shady.”

And if I had a different husband?