Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Life is a Numbers Game

I have never been very good with numbers, at least not if I have to calculate them in my head. I once bargained for Giants tickets with a scalper through the window of my car while stopped for a red light.

Scalper: “Field Club seats for $65 each.”

Me: “Would you go $200 for three?” He gave me a big smile. Money changed hands along with the light.

My husband: “Way to go! You do realize you just gave him more than he initially wanted?”

Every now and then you just have to make someone’s day.

You can probably imagine why playing Poker makes me squirm. Same way with Bridge or Hearts. When we used to play Bridge I’d always feel relieved if I got to be the dummy. When we play Hearts, if I try to run the cards, I experience a mild panic attack. My husband always seems to know just how many cards of each suit have been played. Every hand! All this while watching TV and carrying on a conversation. Me, I know that two suits are red and two are black.

Numbers are funny. My mom used to say she was no good with numbers but she could tell the checker exactly how much each item in her grocery cart cost. She couldn’t give you the total but she always knew the price. I can probably tell you the number of calories in every item I’ve eaten in a day but never ask me for an end-of-day tally. Maybe that makes me a live-in-the-moment kind of girl. Or fat.

Now colors, that’s a different matter altogether.

Officer: “Can you describe the vehicle that side-swiped your car, Ma’am?”

Me: “Certainly. It was a sleek, sexy number the exact shade of a ripe pomegranate seed.”

Officer: “Year and make?”


Age is another of those numbers that gives me trouble. When you’re five, ten sounds old. When you’re fifteen, ten sounds young. My mother never wanted anyone to know when she turned eighty. She said it sounded so old and people would treat her differently. I told her that was just silly. We wanted to throw her a big party to celebrate. Then I noticed myself wanting to hold her arm to help her across the room. She told me that every now and then she’d catch a glimpse of herself in a mirror and wonder who that old lady was. Then she’d realize she was looking at herself.

“It’s always such a shock,” she confessed. “Inside I’m still just forty.”

Two years later, I turned fifty. Fifty sounded so old. My mother just smiled. “I’d kill to be fifty again.”


  1. That was a fun post!! I love the ripe pomegranate! That's totally something I would say! Stopping by from SITS roll call!

  2. Remember summer? When I was 8 summer lasted forever. Now, I'm sure it will start snowing tomorrow. Seems unfair somehow....

    Thanks for stopping by - love your blog!

  3. Great post! Numbers and me don't get along. Thank God for online banking - I'll never balance a checkbook again!
    I can almost guarantee you I wouldn't have even tried to negotiate with a scalper - my grasp on math is way too bad. At least you tried!

  4. Oh the numbers give me headaches too..yet as your mom, i always know how much every item in my cart at the grocery store costs... but good thing i have my man with me to do the adding:P
    Happy Thursday!

  5. Ahhh, the old...age is relative thing. ;0) My husband is 11 years younger than I am. When I turned 50, it shocked me. The year he turned 40, he went through a massive, mid-life crisis. I wanted to whack him along side the head and declare..."Snap out of it, I would kill to be 40 again".

    Ahhh, age is relative.

  6. Hi Tricia,
    I know exactly what you mean... you have in your head this picture of "u" and huh a photo is taken and you're like, wait who is that? lol my oldest is turning "21" i say gulping in a few weeks and i told a friend from college and she said "shelley, wait how can that be possible? aren't we just 21?" lol how time flies... i'm trying so hard to enjoy each day now! i love your photo's from the ballon fesitval! so vibrant!!
    ps. i always wonder how jessie paints her boxes so finely too, it truely amazes me! :)


  7. I find humor knowing that no matter how old I get....my husband will ALWAYS be 6 years older.

  8. Love the pomegranate description...it is so you. I really liked your post. As always your writing is great.


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