Saturday, July 22, 2006

Surprises are downright exhausting. I’ve decided this. Months ago, my sister Julie decided it would be fun to throw a surprise party for my Mom, who turns 70 this year. (We will not even go into my “I’m too young to have two parents over 70” mournful monologue.) So Julie began to plan and prepare and invite and assign tasks.

We decided it would work best if we shrouded the day under the guise of being a shopping outing for the three of us, and I even marked as such in my day planner – in case it happened to be out in full view when Mom came to visit. My tasks were assigned: make a broccoli salad (my specialty in life) and get Mom to Julie’s house for the party.

All went well for a while until my other sister, Lori, found out she would be able to be home the week of the party. Not that that was a bad thing – it was actually great to be able to include her. But with Lori’s announcement of a visit home came Mom’s enduring attempts to change the day of our shopping trip to include Lori. See, Mom thought that Lori was attending a wedding on her husband’s side of the family on Saturday, so through a variety of emails and phone calls, she came up with no less than half a dozen alternatives of times, days, and locations that would allow everyone to shop together.

And that was where the lying began. I’m not a good liar. When Angela lived here, she had a motorcycle accident one evening and the only thing she asked me to do was not tell her dad about it, should he happen to call. Given that she’d lived with me for months and I could count on one hand the number of times he’d called, I didn’t sweat the assignment. He called four times that night. Every time he asked where she was, I said “Oh, she’s not home yet,” and my voice went up another octave. By the fourth call, I sounded like a canary. After I hung up the phone I stared at it and said, “She’s not home yet because she’s in the hospital BUT I CAN’T TELL YOU THAT!!! AAAHHHHHHH!!!!” So lying does not work out so well for me.

Julie and I had to resort to all sorts of tactics. We had to coordinate our vacation days last week to make sure they never fell together, so we could say that it just wouldn’t work to switch the day. We couldn’t move up the time because her dog had an appointment at the groomer. We couldn’t move back the time because I might have a date. (Right!) I wasn’t sure I could keep all the fake reasons straight!!

But none of that compared to the ride to Indy today. I had promised Julie I would drive (a great sacrifice given that I hate city and interstate driving) because it was the only way I could control the time we arrived. And I had strict instructions that I was not to be early. So I carefully left home late and conveniently got stuck in line waiting for polar teas at the Handy Andy (and yes, I know it’s a Circle K now – but it’s forever the Handy Andy to me). When I arrived at Mom and Dad’s, Mom invited me to ride along as her passenger. I panicked and out came the canary voice. “But I need to drive! I have to practice! I have to learn how to drive to Julie’s!!” Whoa, Bekah. Back off. She’s gonna get suspicious. She patted the passenger seat. “I’ll drive.”

I hopped in and pulled out Plan B. “There were no good donuts at the Handy Andy. Do you think we could stop in Windfall so I could get one at their gas station?” She agreed and said that I could take over the driving once we go there. Whew. Crisis averted. Later she told me that had been her plan all along. She might have mentioned that and saved me a small coronary.

When I finally took my place behind the wheel, I tried to keep the pace as slow as possible. That was met with a “Do you not like cruise control?” I rolled my eyes and sped up – and used the cruise. When we got to Noblesville, I managed to get every red light – that bought me several minutes. I was checking the clock about every 30 seconds, hoping the stalling was working. I didn’t have long to wait. “Did you know we were supposed to be in Castleton seven minutes ago?” Thank goodness! Out loud I just said, “I’m sorry! I’m doing my best!”

We arrived only ten fashionable minutes late and Julie came to meet us at the car. She led us to the front door and oops! it was locked. How’d that happen? We had to walk around to get in the back door. When we made our way back by the pool, Mom looked in to the fenced area to check out the flowers and found herself facing a paparazzi of cameras and friends yelling “Surprise!” I didn’t spend a long time enjoying the surprise. My Plan C had been to need a bathroom break and the combination of stress and extra iced tea had kicked in – though my need for Plan C had not.

The party was a wonderful success – her friends dressed her up in a fabulous rendition of “When I am old, I shall wear purple” – a purple graduation robe, a gaudy belt, men’s work socks, high top work boots, a tacky feathered purse, and a slouch hat. I so want to put the picture on here – but I know better. I do enjoy receiving Christmas gifts and don’t want to be cut off.

And so the days of celebration begin…my friend Lynette says you should celebrate one day for every year you are old. Even though Mom’s birthday isn’t until September, I think today might be the start of her 70 days of partying! All I know is that the rest of the days had better not include any more lying. The canary sound is not attractive for Miss Bekah.