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I learned a new word today:

gaffe |gaf|nounan unintentional act or remark causing embarrassment to its originator; a blunder : an unforgivable social gaffe.

Oh my word...this word I know and live so well. My life and world is full of GAFFES. I guess this blog could bear the name, "God Made Me to Laugh at My Gaffes." I have not only embarrassed myself, but others through my blunders and naiveness. There are several gaffes that have created quite a stir that I could not possibly mention in public save a few key words. For instance, the shiny round disc I held up in the aisle,  "Does this belong to anyone?" I thought that colorful package was a disc cover for someone's floppy disc. Then there is the one with the kleenex box in front of the Idaho Falls Tigerettes and their mother's before a performance...to ease the fear of performing... You know the joke is on you when no one laughs and jaws are dropped as if in utter shock. Then I ask, what could possibly be the matter?  Some kind soul would then pull me aside and whisper in my ear the crude meaning of my joke. It is enough to keep anyone quiet for a long time...but oh know...not me...I am just a one gaffe after another.

As a Flight Attendent, I had many such instances. We were in New Orleans on Mardi Gras. It was a full plane with partying and already intoxicated individuals. There were blow horns and sparkly hats and beads. This group of people needed more than the typical soda and peanuts or pretzels. Passenger A: "Can I have a Bloody Mary, a cup of water and coffee with cream... oh and do you have change for a hundred...maybe some alka seltzer too?" and on it continued passenger after passenger. Finally, we had moved beyond the first two rows. It wasn't long until I heard, Passenger B,"Mam, do you have a towel and a refill?...I had a little spill." Out of sheer frustration, I blurted out a cliche that came to my mimd..."My are we all thumbs today?" Immediately upon completing my sentence, I glanced down and saw ten stubs, not fingers, stubs. Clearly it could have easily been mistaken for "all thumbs." I wanted off that plane yesterday. First off because of my stupid remark and second, the thought that I may I have hurt some one else's feelings was more than I could bear. I do not know if he had been in an accident or if this was something from birth. I  do know I was sick inside and I am sure the look on my face reveled just how sick. With compassion and a couple of words, "it is okay," he brushed it off, but it replayed over and over in my mind.

Then there was the day that a handsome African American passed by me. Somehow we ended up visitig about diverse subjects. We were off on the topic of watches. I was collecting them at the time, especially trendy Swatches. Thet were plastic, creative watches that were Swiss. I looked him square in the eye when I spoke, "yea I have seven, but my favorite is the one with the black face." Really. Did I really just say that to a black man?

What about the man from church that was blind. Somehow his cane found me more than once. He was in need of a ride home. I was happy to do that for him. I had a sheild in my window to protect the dash of the car from the sun. As I directed him to the passenger side of the car, I saw the shield, "Just let me get the BLINDER...I mean the thinganajig out of the window so you can SEE, I mean so I can see..."  Later on, it was "let me know when you SEE the street sign I am to turn on for your home." Everyone knows that a blind man can't see and yet much of our conversation required seeing..."Have you seen any good movies lately? Do you think she is cute? Is your house that one or that one," as I point to both sides of the street.

The harder I try to avoid the blunders, the bigger they become. Now living in a world where you have to be politically correct, I overthink everything and leave people wondering if I have a speech impediment. There have been occasions when I hear the little voice in my head say, "Why do you have to be so dumb?' Then I remember, it is those very things that people find so endearing. I think I am hilarious, yet I know I am not and just want to be...so if I can get a laugh or two when the discomforting situation has ceased and time and humor have added their touch...so be it.

One day my mom was seated at the dinner table with some pretty prominent people, in fact, the children were not allowed to attend. I had been suffering with major allergies. My mother had given me an antihestimine to help with the sneezing and runny nose. It was long over due and my sneezing started up again with a vengence. I ran up the stairs to the dining table. My mother asked,"Can I help you with something?" With confidence, I said for the table to hear, "Mom I think I need a hysterectomy."

Off on the Champs Elysee in France, the taxi drive asked me in French "Quel age avez-vous?' (How old are you?) I wanted to impress him with my wonderful one semester of BYU French and responded
"sept" which would be seven years of age. I was sure he had asked me how many people were in my family. His eyes were bulging with surprise. I went back to my hotel room later, found my handy dandy French Dictionary and realized the reason for his disbelief. All the whilde my mother is practically yelling thinking that if you talk real loud, the taxi driver will understand.

The first time I say the word "GAFFE" was in connection with Vice President Joe Biden. I guess I am in good. or not company when it comes to being a "GAFFER."

 

Big Sister Bully

My Sister is one of my very best friends. We are 15 months apart and growing up, we practically shared everything from clothes to cars to friends to the boys that we dated. Some would say that there was no way we could possibly be sisters because we were too good of friends. I have to say, my sister was a very good sport. It is true...we are the greatest of friends, but sometimes I question why. I was the Big Sister Bully that dictated the type of role she would play in all our imaginary schemes.

Let me describe to you what I mean. There was this one sit com "Gilligan's Island."

This was such a delightfully fun program that we would watch after school. The characters were 7 individuals stranded on a desert isle...the big rolly polly Skipper, the gangly doofus first mate Gilligan, the smart and handsome professor, the very wealthy elderly couple Mr. and Mrs. Howell, the beautiful Marianne and gorgeous movie star Ginger.

When we played, I was Marianne AND Ginger.

Michelle was Mrs. Howell.

Then there was Edgemont Gardens Elementary School. I was the young captivating Miss Kauer and Michelle was the weathered, grouchy, wrinkly, old Mrs. Rushton.

(Mrs. Rushton on the left)

The Beauty Pageants with the Moon girls also have bully written all over it. Dawn and myself were always the Beauty Queens. Adele and Michelle were the first runner ups. They may have received flowers, but they never wore the crown.

And guess what? She always happily played along.

So I ask myself, why? Why was I such a bully... always giving her the role of undesirable women (and pretend boyfriends) Why did I not only have to be one pretty woman, but all of them? I may never know. Maybe there was some jealousy. Clearly she was the better pianist, received 4.0 was the valdictorian

(My sister is the one to phone and update everyone, take initiative for family gatherings...)

and loved to do housework...so not me. Things come full circle. My Sister married first and with each passing day becomes even more beautiful than the day before.

(She raised two absolutely gorgeous beauty queens as well...Madeline and Jennifer)

She is the Marianne, the Ginger, the Mrs. Martin, the Miss Kauer, the Beauty Queens of this and the previous year all wrapped up into one.

 I love her.

Little Girls, Pretty Hair, TERROR

Truthfully, what is it about me and darling little girls with exceptionally adorable hair?

Picture this:

Salt Lake City International Airport, many people and a great deal of Security. I have an innate desire to compliment and make others feel good about themselves. That includes children. I love to be playful and as an educator, a primary worker and an aunt, I thought I had a unique gift with children. Not today. There across the way was a charming and very captivating little girl. If I had not known better, I would have believed "Goldilocks" had just stepped out of the infamous children's book. There they were, the most perfectly formed golden locks of hair. I have always envied the loose natural curls of others. I could not resist. I walked up to the little darling and said, "You have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen. Where did you get such gorgeous curls?" There was no "Thank you." Not even an "I know." Her face became distorted. She stomped her foot and sharply pointed her finger at me and then screeched at the top of those little girl lungs..."STRANGER...STRANGER. STRANGER. STRANGER." I was totally taken off guard and as I glanced around, everyone's eyes seemed to be upon me. I tried to tell Goldilocks here that I simply wanted to tell her how cute I thought she was but the more I talked, the louder the volume...humiliation and embarrassment.

(I do not know this little girl. I found her image on google...but this is almost identical to the golden curls I saw. The girl at the airport was a little bit younger and this will at least give one an idea of why I could not resist saying something.)

On Sundays, I would lead the singing in Primary. For the most part, the children enjoyed coming to Primary. There was one little girl that appeared to be terrified of Primary. She would cry and eventually be returned to her parents in another room. One day, she had come in to the Primary Room with her father. She sat on his lap in the very back as if to ease her into the routine of Primary. The rest of the children were singing and enjoying "Pick and Choose." It just so happened that the next name that I selected from the box of names, was that of the little girl. Here was my chance to show her how  fun  how absolutely safe and fun Primary could be. With much prodding and convincing she slowly walked to the front of the room. This enchanting princess of a girl had corn rows and hundreds of dark braids all over her pretty little head.

I bent down to help her post something on the board. I stood up to send her back with dad. The button on my sweater had become caught in her hair. I could not stand up. She tried to walk away and felt the tug on her head. All I could do was hover over her. No one could quite figure out what I was doing. The little girl began screaming and crying. I began to panic feeling that I was making her Primary experience a trauma. I offered comforting words and then asked for help. Clearly, dad could not assist because of the location of the offending button. One of the women from the Presidency came up and rescued the screaming child. I felt like such an idiot! The little girl was carried back to her seat (not by me) crying hysterically. I tried to regain composure and get my group of singers singing again. All I could think was really? Did that just really happen. Yes...yes it did happen and it would not be the end of my gaffes.