Trena Eiden

A few months ago, I was shopping in Smiths for a client. A voice over the loudspeaker announced news about products, coupons and that tickets could be purchased for the $5 million lottery. Then he said, “As always, thank you for shopping at Ridley’s, er, uh, I mean Smiths.” I burst out laughing as the lady next to me asked, “Did he say Ridley’s?” Still giggling, I nodded my head, “Yes, and I’m relieved to know I’m not the only dork in the universe. I’m not even the only dork in this store.” She began chortling, she was sidling away from me, but she was chortling.   

God wasn’t done giving me joy. I had to go to Alberstons to pick up my client’s favorite ribs and as I exited the store, I was several yards behind a 40-something woman. She was swiveling her head back and forth, obviously looking for her car. Since I understand this scenario very, very well, I sympathized, but inwardly snickered. But wait, there’s more … Out of the corner of my eye her husband appeared, coming around me with long legged strides, catching up to her. They exchanged a few words that I couldn’t make out, then the mister started the process of the side-to-side head movement. I got to my car and as I pulled out of my slot, I saw they’d finally found their vehicle … the farthest one on the end of the lot. Because I’m not a good person I tittered. She didn’t remember being on the end? Poor thing. Maybe she’d been thinking of something else, or maybe not thinking, and being a natural myself, I’d know a thing or two about not thinking. I continued to be amused all day, every time I thought of, not the wife, but the husband not remembering either. Gar always knows where we’re parked and is tapping his fingers on the hood waiting for me to find him. Perhaps she drove and her man had walked to meet her there. Possibly, or maybe not. God brings opposites together, but maybe not always. Maybe there’s days when God says, “I’m gonna try something different and put two together that can barely roast a marshmallow.” I’m so grateful God didn’t do that to me. He made me a nut, but he gave me an opposite of me, whatever that’s called; composed, balanced, rational, reasonable, logical, stable, sane … boring. What? I didn’t say what, you said what.  

Gar may smirk or roll his eyes, while always remaining his solid guarded self, but I know what he’s thinking. Once at a women’s retreat, we were asked what four words we feel our husbands long to say to us? The newlywed ladies answered with things like, “You are my life” or “You’ve stolen my heart” or “I love you lots.” Women married over 10 years wrote, “I enjoy your cooking” or “Take care of you” or “You’re a good wife.” The facilitator held up my paper and paused. I’d written, “Walk toward the light.”  

I’ve been known to talk to myself and when I do, it makes me and Gar question which one I need, a therapist or a keeper? Getting ready for work one morning, I found a seed I’d inadvertently dropped on the floor from a flower packet I’d planted. A few minutes later I found another one. Speaking out loud, I stated, “If you’d vacuum once in a while you wouldn’t find things on the floor.” Then, also speaking out loud, I replied, “That’s probably true.”  

I was shopping in the mall one afternoon when a top caught my eye on a clearance rack. Examining it, I saw it was priced at $10, and I liked the navy and light blue color. I debated a moment, then walked on. Soon, I found myself back at the shirt contemplating, was it too big, because it was the only one left. Shrugging I walked away again. As I was about to exit the store, I made a U-turn and went back to the shirt, decided I loved the fabric and price, so tried it on and bought it. When I found Gar in the mall’s food court, patiently waiting and reading his book, I told him about my dilemma. I ended the long diatribe by mentioning, I would have bought jeans too, but none were at the price I’d set for myself. As his blue eyes intently watched me, I declared matter-of-factly, “Isn’t it comforting to know that I boss me too?”