I’ve Forgotten What This Post is About Already


When you were little, do you remember how excited you used to get about going somewhere fun? And I bet that when you were getting to ready to leave, you made sure you had everything right?

Going to the pool:
“Got bathing suit…check. Got flippers, mask, squirt gun, flip flops and balls. Joey is soooo gonna get pounded by my new water cannon..hee hee!”

Going to the theme park:
“Alright, let’s see, I have my funnest shoes on, my favorite t-shirt, my allowance aaannnndddd my pack of Big League Chew bubble gum.”

See, when you were little, you remembered to take the things that were most important to you. Sure, you may have forgotten your towel, or your bottle of water and the sunscreen, but really, those are things you could live without. The REALLY important things you remembered.

Which is why this weekend was very disconcerting for me. I forgot everything!

Since CareerMom was out of town all last week, I’d banked some free time and had scheduled a round of golf (I KNOW! ANOTHER ONE!) at an uber-snobbish golf course about 40 minutes from the house. I called a buddy of mine to join me on Sunday at 1 p.m. and I was so looking forward to it. So we got up Sunday morning and putzed around, and I tooled out of the house around 11:45 a.m. figuring I’d have plenty of time to grab a bite to eat and get in a few warm-up shots at the course. When I arrived, I started driving around looking for a parking spot and saw some random guy cleaning the dirt out of his spikes. It was then that I got a sick, sinking feeling in my stomach–I’d forgotten my golf shoes.

And it wasn’t just that I’d forgotten my good shoes and I had on some so-so tennis shoes. No, I had on my slip-on driving shoes and there was no way I could play in them. Being 40 minutes from the house, I knew it was impossible for me to get home and back in time to tee off even within 15 minutes of my original tee time, so I called my buddy and I bailed. I was pretty ticked, he was pretty ticked–it was not a good feeling.

Driving home, I figured, “Well, if I’m not going to do something fun since CareerMom and the kids are at a friend’s house playing, I might as well do something constructive.”

I changed clothes and headed out to the Home Depot to get some deck boards to replace a few of mine that were cracked and splintery. I selected my boards and then waited in line for at least 15 minutes–and this isn’t one of those, “Oh, I’m so frustrated that 2 minutes feels like 15 minutes” times. I think it was really like 15 minutes. Some newbie schmuck was trying to figure out what all supplies he needed to lay down some hardwood and he was having a crisis at the checkout counter.  Anyway, I FINALLY got up there, she rang me up and I realized I’d left my wallet at home.

As I was driving home to retrieve it, I yelled so loud and long in my truck that I saw stars and my voice was hoarse for an hour. I know…real mature!

And then, this morning, I forgot my coffee.

It’s not been a stellar three days for the old memory. In my defense, I’m on about three different medications for my allergies-slash-sinus infection and I suspect that has something to do with it. But I also wonder how much of this has to do with just getting older? For Pete’s sake though, I’m only 34, how much worse does it get?

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Wouldn’t you like to get away…just for a day…

Ritz-Carlton Lodge CareerMom’s company gives out Pavlonian-style rewards for good work behavior. One can redeem these rewards (with a substantial markup) for all manner of things. Normally, we use them to replace whatever electronic necessity the boys have dropped in the toilet most recently, but this time, we used them to book a night at the Ritz-Carlton Resort in beautiful Greensboro, GA. Yes, folks, a Ritz-Carlton in the middle-of-nowhere Georgia.

It’s about a two-hour drive from Roswell, and so CareerMom’s folks came over to stay at our house to watch the boys. Mind you, they live about five miles away, but they find it easier to just stay at our house rather than put up with my youngest not sleeping because he hates the pack-n-play at their house.

Anyway, I didn’t realize the significance of this Ritz-Carlton’s location until we drove past nearly a mile of golf courses and were greeted by a cadre of knicker-clad bellmen. That’s when it hit me, “Oh yeah, this is where they played the 2007 PGA Cup and will host a future PGA Pro National Championship (will that be the FEDEX Cup now?).

With all this great golf nearby, do you think I got to play? Nossir—and here’s why. CareerMom likes her some spa treatments…yessir, that she does. And when you book a package deal, they won’t let one of you play golf while one of you gets a treatment. You both have to do the same thing. And since CareerMom doesn’t play, it means that for three mini-getaways now, I’ve gotten up-close and personal with massage therapists, while the closest I got to the golf course was tearfully viewing it from my room balcony.

Now I know…boo hoo me right? I HAD to go to the Ritz-Carlton, and I HAD to get a spa treatment. I know, it’s a bit petty but one of the few things I REALLY enjoy doing in my life, and I have the opportunity to do it in a place that most people only get to watch on TV…and I don’t get to do it. It IS frustrating.

Among the other notable things that happened while we were there, was getting the chance to watch two young, fairly attractive women at the pool. Let me set the stage; CareerMom and I meandered down to the pool, which overlooks the lake. We stayed there talking for a few and both turned around towards the pool so we could lean up against the fence. We both had our sunglasses on and CareerMom says, “Is that girl lying on top of another girl?” Being a man, I quickly glanced over and from what I could tell, there was one girl in a bathing suit lying facedown on a chaise lounger, with another bathing suit-clad young woman lying on top of her…also face down. Though I wanted to stare (and fantasize just a tiny bit), I tried not to look. CareerMom though, had no such qualms. “I can’t look away” she said, “It’s fascinating.” This from a woman who later that evening, as I paused to watch a “girls gone wild” commercial remarked, “Two women together, I just don’t get it.”


Anyway, we also made nuisances of ourselves later that evening at the off-site restaurant, where CareerMom ordered a filet, cooked medium, and it came back very rare. I ordered the Cajun pasta and halfway through, came across something that looked very much like a grub worm that I might pull out of my compost pile, but that the chef insisted was a crawfish tail. Either way, it ruined my appetite.

But the time flew by and we soon were back on the road. It’s amazing how much stuff you can cram into 24 hours. We left at 1 p.m. on Saturday and arrived home by 1:30 p.m. on Sunday. It was fun, but if I’m gonna drive two hours to stay at a Ritz-Carlton, I want to STAY at a Ritz-Carlton. This was just a mad-dash. For that, I could have stayed home and chased after the kids.