“Has there ever been a time in your life that has driven you a little bit crazy?” Really?! Just the idea of turning my Sue Ellen conversation starter around on myself makes me laugh, sigh, and wonder where on earth to begin.
Without being the least bit self-effacing, I can say that the crazy spells of my life have almost always, hands down, been my own fault. There is something in my personality that leads me into more Lucy Ricardo style predicaments than a belle can shake a stick at.
One of the craziest times I can remember would have to be the earliest days of All Things Southern when the Internet was brand new (at least in our small town) and I had even less of a clue about what I was doing than I do now. This would be the period when I was also coaching not one but two girls’ basketball teams at our kids’ school, while running my own interior design firm, Interiors by Shellie. During this same season, farmer husband was coaching the two boys’ teams at the same school. And did I mention that my daughter played for me and our son played for Phil? Oh, yeah. Talk about having bats in your belfry! Phil and I literally met each other coming and going from the gym and I think my poor family may have starved had it not been for breaded chicken tenders from Sam’s.
One scene from those years stands out in my mind. My darling husband was couch bound, only days out of surgery to repair a knee he had blown out while practicing with his boys. Trust me. He heard more ribbing than he cared to entertain about not being “as young as he used to be.” Neither of us appreciated that type of thinking. I ask you, is anyone as young as they used to be? In a note of irony, it would be less than a year before our son blew out his knee in the very same way. But, then, I’ve digressed.
It was also two days before Christmas and due to Phil’s unexpected hospital stay, last minute orders from my clients, and the inevitable basketball games, I wasn’t even close to being through with my shopping. All that to explain why I found myself stumbling around the parking lot of a twenty-four hour big box store ninety miles from home at three o’clock in the morning with both arms loaded to the hilt— and sobbing inconsolably. After a good half-hour search, I was fully prepared to surrender if there had been anyone to surrender to, only the countless other crazed after-hour shoppers I kept meeting in my circles were much too wary to get within spitting distance of the mad woman. Mind you, this was in the pre car alarm days or I would’ve been sitting on the panic button.
As it was, I was having myself a full out pity party when I happened across a young twenty-something woman I had known during her teenage years. After making a wonderful first impression on her new husband, I hiccuped and cried my way through an explanation of my sorry plight and the two of them assisted me in finding the missing vehicle. All was pretty much well if you didn’t count my injured pride.
I would like to think that I could handle that situation differently today, but it is a-okay with me if I don’t get a chance to find out. The memory is enough to keep this belle humble.
Hugs,
Shellie
Shellie Rushing Tomlinson is an author, speaker, radio host, and Belle of All Things Southernwho can never ever be driven crazy because she lives there.
