Excuses

Excuses

WC 964

We have a progressive dinner at church today. That is where you have a course at different homes. I have to go to three different homes. One home for the soup and salad course. One home for the entree course and then the last home for the dessert course. I have a problem with group dinners. All those germs at communal meals. So I have to find an excuse. And it has to be a good one. An iron clad excuse.

I have to walk a dog today. My friend is in the hospital. But I really don’t want to walk that dog. The dog isn’t leash trained. It jumps on me, it barks at everyone and doesn’t listen to commands. But if I do this dog walk like I promised, I will miss out on that church activity. But the walk can be before or after the meal, and the church members are aware of this. So that excuse will not fly.

Maybe I can do better. It is Valentine’s Day. Perhaps giving my husband a proper Valentine’s Day dinner is a good excuse. No, not good enough, it needs to be a bigger, better excuse. Sorry honey, you are not a good enough excuse. That is not to say you are an excuse in any way, shape or form. You are the best excuse in the world for not doing something. But this excuse has to be the best excuse in the universe.

My mother is in a nursing home. I need to visit her on this day that celebrates love. Does that qualify? Poor mother if I choose church or dog over maternal affection. Mom doesn’t remember me half the time, so I guess this excuse could not really be considered valid, since anyone in the group could go to my mother to check on it, and she would not remember if I had been there today or yesterday or last year or even if I was her daughter. Such is the tragedy of getting older.

But what if I choose my grandchild on Valentine’s day…. She is so cute. She wants Nana to come and get her handmade card and a cookie she made just for me. And how can you refuse that? Childhood is so fleeting and they will not remember if Nana was there when they turn thirteen and cannot bear the sight of an adult. Perhaps I should choose the precious little darling while I can. How can church members deny the love of a grandmother for a grandchild? Yes, this may be the best excuse.

But then I have had trouble with my knee lately. In fact, I have been to the orthopedic doctor about it just last week. He said, and I quote, “I have no conservative treatment to offer you. You have been doing all the things I would recommend. When do you want to schedule surgery?” Uh, well. I had to think for a second before I said, “You know, I have to talk to my husband about this. I’ll have to let you know.” As if I would schedule surgery that second. What would he have done, rush me in on a gurney with my clothes on and start cutting before I could get the yes out of my mouth? Then a few days after the visit, a nurse from the office called my home and asked me if I was ready to schedule the surgery. “I think I need to think some more on this,” was my answer. We decided that if I blow out my knee walking or hiking or cross-country skiing, then I will schedule the surgery. Not before. Hey - what a great excuse. I could hobble in with a cane and knee brace. “Sorry folks. No food for me. I have to worry about necrotizing fasciitis in my incision.” That would clear the room fast. Nothing like the worry about flesh-eating bacteria to ruin a good feast.

Okay, a better excuse to up the ante. I’ve got it! I got an invitation in the mail today. I just got invited to be the next Queen of England. No, really! It’s official. QEll has resigned, Princes Charles and William have both abdicated. And who knew why chose me! Little old me! I filled out an on-line form some months ago and they chose me from thousands of applicants. And since I have some long-ago descendants, as do millions of Americans, I have some right to the throne. I will be a great monarch. I will not move to England. I will make my headquarters right here in Montana. No one will ever believe that the Queen of England is right here in Montana. Ha - well the joke is on you, you folks across the pond. Those of us across the great Atlantic and above the 45th parallel are now in control of the world. I have to make a proper invitation. I can get my fancy machine I use to make custom greeting cards to make a real card. It can look real enough, I suppose. It only has to look real, not be real. Cut and paste. And use some melted wax to make the seal. Ah yes, we could work on this for an hour or so and perhaps this excuse could be the best one yet.

So after listing all the possible excuses, I feel I have fallen deeper into insanity with each one. So before the church elders call out the white coats, I call and let the powers that be know I won’t be attending. I have one of my sick headaches again. Not too far from the truth. All that thinking can give one a mighty powerful headache.