Friday, September 23, 2011


It's no secret to anyone who knows me even just a little, that I get lost very easily.  I have come to accept my terrible sense of direction and for the most part, I just expect to use extra gas (sorry, Marcus) and be late (sorry, everyone).  When I got Lola for my 40th birthday, I thought my life had changed forever.  A talking machine to guide me wherever I went.  NO MORE wasting gas, making my children say, "Uh, Mom, are we lost?", or being frazzled upon arriving finally at my destination. 

It has not worked out quite that way, I'm afraid.  I still get lost and I hear "RECALCULATING".  A lot.  But somehow I feel a little safer.  At least I never go TOO far out of my way.

Thursday night our girls' small group was changed last minute to the home of one of our newer participants, and I had never before been to her house.  I could not make my GPS find the dumb address before leaving the house, and I was afraid I'd be late if I tried any longer.  So, I just took off, hoping I'd listened well enough when R had told me the directions over the phone (when will I learn?).  I got very close to where I was supposed to be and then tried with the GPS again.  She would not cooperate, giving me the same house number by a completely different street.   I went on a wild goose chase which eventually lead me to a little convenient store where I called Mark (never my first instinct because I want him to think I'm getting better) who gave me another friend's cell #.  When that didn't pan out, I went in to ask.  So, I find out that I'm close, finally, but I can't see any house numbers.  I just decided to park and started walking, not knowing exactly how far I would need to walk. 

And here is the reason I just told this whole story (Mom, because I know YOU made it this far).  A lady pulls her car over to the sidewalk (we're talking pitch black here at around 8:00), rolls down her window and proceeds to ask me where some street is.  "I'm lost," I say with disbelief.  I feel that I get more than my fair share of people asking me for directions.  I just told Mark the other day how often it happens to me, especially when I'm walking (me, of ALL people). She mumbles something about a Spanish class.  Still baffled, I say, "J'ai aucune idée," and continue on. 

The good ending of the story is that I eventually found the right house and had a wonderful evening with 3 terrific girls.  It was so real and honest and heart-warming.  One of my favorite small-group nights ever. 

No thanks to you, LOLA!!