Lewis Carroll said...

"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

And I totally get Mr. Carroll's point of view here.

I get a lot of e-mails asking me this recurrent question after particularly strange blog posts..."how do you think of these things?"

And to answer that question I thought I would just tell you a little, true story.

And then perhaps you will understand the curse of having an overactive imagination without an on/off switch.

So...

On Saturday we were getting ready to go to a soccer game. I was scurrying around trying to get snacks packed for the Grands, sneaking into my office to answer another e-mail or two, finding sunscreen...you know the drill.

And our oldest daughter called.

"Mom," she said in a subdued and solemn voice, "I need to talk to you...it's important."

Daughter Nancy usually has a perky happy voice and I was immediately concerned BUT Mr. Jenny was yelling at the other end of the house, "we're late, let's go!" AND our weiner dog, Oskar, was barking at an ominous leaf in the neighbors front yard AND I still needed to find time to tinkle before I ran out the door.

Oops! TMI? Sorry. I was just setting the stage here for the whole overactive imagination experience. So I told her I'd call her back and raced out to the car to save my marriage.

When I got in the car I told Mr. Jenny, "Nancy called and said she has something important to talk to me about. Her voice was all serious and everything!"

He raised his caterpillar-y eyebrow and said, "ohhh?..."

So I tried to call her back on her house phone. It rang and it rang and it rang! Next I called her cellphone. And it rang and it rang and it rang! And then I called our son-in-laws cellphone and it rang and it rang and it rang!

"I wonder what's wrong?" I said to Mr. Jenny.

"I dunno," he replied, "But I'm sure it's nothing."

I tried a few more times. Ring, Ring. No answer.

"Oh no!" I said. "Something is wrong. Maybe Mr. Nancy was in an accident."

I continued to try.

"Maybe she's sick and going to the emergency room! Maybe something happened to her dog, Belle!"

Ring, Ring. No answer.

"Maybe she's mad at me and wants to tell me never to bother her again....what do you think I did? Maybe I hurt her feelings when we were at her house for my birthday!"

Mr. Jenny said "I'm sure it's nothing. And your birthday was almost a month ago."

Ring, Ring. No answer.

"Well you know she was having dinner with her Dad (my ex) last night. I wonder if something is wrong with him. Maybe he has cancer or something. Oh no! Or maybe he told her something about me that she wants to talk about. What am I going to tell her?"

Mr. Jenny just continued to ignore me.

Ring, Ring. No answer.

"Maybe she's mad because I told her I was going to order a lime green girl kayak even though she said she wanted one and that I couldn't get that color! Maybe she thought I was serious! I will totally order a pink one...I just hate her to be mad at me!"

Mr. Jenny just continued to ignore me.

Ring, Ring. And finally, finally she picked up her phone!

"OMG, Nancy!" I screamed into the cellphone, "Are you OK! What's wrong?!?!"

Nancy hesitated a moment and then said "Mom, you know your baking powder biscuit recipe? Mine didn't raise very much and had little brown dots all over the top..."
WHAT?

"Is that the important thing you called about?" I calmly asked Nancy.

"Well, yea, Mom, they just aren't right. Can you talk me through this?"

Mr. Jenny was studiously avoiding eye contact with me.

For the next three or four minutes I talked her through the whole biscuit making process and then she hung up with a "Love ya, Mom, thanks!"

Love ya Mom? Thanks? What kind of goodbye is that from a girl that aged me 10 years in 15 minutes?

A IMPORTANT problem with baking powder biscuits? Seriously.

Mr. Jenny looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "Well, at least she didn't think the biscuits needed to go to the Emergency Room!"

Grrr.....

Grrr.....

Hmmm...

Obviously, he cannot appreciate the anguish I go through on a daily basis being afflicted with OAID.

And yes. OverActiveImaginationDisorder is so a disease. I know it is. I'm sure it is.

Darn...or maybe I just imagined it.

Anyway.

That's how I think of these things.

Being Off On my Tangent is not all about the glamour and fame, my friends.

There is a lot of pain and anguish involved, too.

Sigh...