The calm after the storm
Judy Conlin
If you’ve been reading my columns, you know that I’ve been having a lot of company lately. I adore company, but this has been at a time when my life is spiraling out of control. For a woman fast approaching 90, my schedule is jam-packed. I am trying to deal with too many things with too little time. No, I am not whining. I love my life, but at my age, trying to do it all is a bit much. That is why, when my last guest left Sunday morning, I was ready for calm after the storm. Let me tell you how that went and is continuing to go.
After my sweet niece departed on Sunday, I had church. After church, I had a dinner engagement. After that, I took off to the grocery store to fill up my depleted pantry. By then, the day was over, but I was looking forward to Monday.
From then on, it was a mass exodus from any calm. I was making appointments and canceling appointments left and right. I even had to abort my 90th birthday party plans, or at least put them on hold. Could I last until a big 100th birthday bash? Every single day of the week was filled except Saturday, when I had to clean the place up and restock again.
Next week is the same, with an echocardiogram, an eye appointment, more doctor and lab appointments, hair and nail appointments, a luncheon and workmen coming to do work on my kitchen. (This probably is a waste of time and money since I don’t have time to cook anymore.)
The week after that is completely filled because we have theater rehearsal every day, and our production, Hooray for Acting UP, is May 22, May 23 and May 24, from 2 to 4 p.m. for $10. I’d like you all to come, as I am in two skits there. Since my birthday is May 23, you can see the difficulty in having a party.
In the meantime, I have missed so many meetings of my book club, garden club, the Juliet Club, etc., I’m afraid I’m going to be dropped from their rosters. I miss you all and will be attending again soon, I hope.
I am wondering if, after the final curtain comes down (not the end of me, just the end of the show), there will be a period of calm. As I think of all the canceled appointments that must be made up, it makes me wonder. I need to talk to someone about how to manage all this. The problem is that the only person I have whom I can easily talk to is Nurse Judy, my completely undisciplined and unscheduled alter ego. I’m pretty sure she’ll be no help, but I’m desperate.
I approach her. She is busy trying on her new hat I had to buy her to compensate her for the last time I asked for her assistance. It is difficult to get her attention, as she must try the hat at every angle, and she keeps changing her hairdo to accommodate the hat. I finally get her attention and tell her my problem.
She looks at me eagerly.
“I need a new jacket to go with this hat,” she tells me.
“Absolutely not,” I say. “I can’t afford anything else for you. I need costumes for the show. That hat was for a whole month of favors,” I tell her.
“You get what you pay for,” she tells me, grinning.
She has me there. If I pay her nothing, her help will be worthless. I wonder what I should do.
“How about a hatpin for the hat?” I ask, rather proud of myself for thinking up something of minimal cost.
“With that, you get a pin full of advice,” she says.
“Yes?” I ask eagerly.
“Have your birthday party in June,” she says.
I guess it is a solution, but it means that June will be as chaotic as May. There will be no calm. Before I can even answer, she breezes in.
“Let’s go get that pin,” she says, “and I’ll need a new dress for the party. You will never have calm. You are not that type of person.”
I think she’s right. I’ve got to go now if I’m going to be ready for a party in June.
More later,
