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Published May 19. 2012 09:01AM

OK Folks, this one's for all of you who think you are losing your minds and then feel better after hearing about someone else who is losing it.

It was two weeks ago on Sunday. Harry and I went up to the church to tear down the backdrop from the Ladies Spring Fling luncheon about 1:30 p.m. We needed my keys to get into the social hall. When we locked up, Harry handed my keys to me and said, "Remember. I gave your keys back to you."

We went back to my mom's, played some Scat, had dinner, did the dishes, played some more Scat, had dessert and went home about 8:30 p.m.

We unloaded the car of our usual Sunday paraphernalia... leftovers, a suitcase ... and some items from the Spring Fling. I thought I'd better dig my car keys out of my purse and put them in my key dish so I could find them easily before I left for work Monday morning.

But, they weren't in my purse.

I went out to the car and searched. Not in the car.

I went through the suitcase. Not in the suitcase.

I searched through the Spring Fling stuff. Not in the stuff.

I finally broke down and whined to Harry ..."I can't find my keys."

"Don't look at me. Remember? I gave them to you when we left the church," he reminded me. "Are they in your pocket?"

I stood in front of him and patted the sides of my pants ..."I don't have pockets."

"Well the pants you had on before had pockets. You put them in your pocket," he insisted.

"These are the very same pants I had on the whole day," I rolled my eyes.

"Did you look in your purse?"

"I looked everywhere, otherwise I wouldn't have said anything to you."

He told me to look again.

So, I took everything out of my purse. He searched the car.

No keys.

Finally I admitted defeat.

"I must have left them over at Mom's. I guess I have to call her. But first I'm going to change into my nightie."

Don't you sometimes wish you had a Nanny Cam hidden in your house so you could record some things?

Like the expression that must have been on my face when I took my bra off and my keys fell out and on the floor.

"What the heck?" I said, stunned, staring at them.

Then I remembered. Since I didn't have a purse with me or any pockets in my pants at the time, I put the keys inside my bra for safe keeping until I got to Mom's where I intended to put them in my purse. But from the time we left the church until we got to Mom's (all of 1 minute) I forgot what I had done.

Here's the part that had me giggling like an idiot ... I never felt the key-chain with the big keyless remote, the big car key, the church key and a two-and-a-half-inch key-chain "Footprints" charm against my skin for seven hours. Now that's padding!


Talking about getting older ...

I'm the first to admit I'm not very adventuresome. I've played it safe pretty much all my life. But I find as I'm getting older, I'm a little more open to trying new things.

Like a motorcycle ride.

Friends of ours, Renee and Jerry, have a cobalt blue Harley Davidson Touring Bike, an Ultra Classic that they had converted into a trike.

They stopped by on Sunday afternoon. When they were ready to leave, I walked with them to the motorcycle. I don't know why, but I said, "I guess before I turn 62 I'll ask you for a ride on that thing."

Renee held out her helmet to me and Jerry said, "Get on. Might as well do it now."

Geesze. That was too quick!

"I meant ... Someday. Not today!" I said.

"No time like the present," Jerry said.

I was hesitant but then I thought about Frances Borger, who at age 90 went on her first hot air balloon, Dianne Cardenas, who at age 60 is walking 500 miles of the Appalachian Trail, and my friend Pattie Mihalik who rides bike, goes kayaking and tries anything at the age of 72.

So, I put on the helmet, climbed on behind Jerry and off we went. Well, my body did. I think I left my heart back in Mom's driveway! I'll admit it was somewhat scary, especially making curves and turns. I wanted to put my hands against something solid but ... it was just open air.

"So what do you think?" came a voice inside my helmet which just about sent me six inches up out of my seat!

They have microphones and a built-in head set in their helmets so they can talk to each other while riding.

After I climbed back into my skin, I responded with, "It's great!" I lied. I still wasn't sure if I liked it or not.

But after a little while, I began to relax and enjoyed the scenery.

When the ride was over, Jerry asked me how I liked it.

This time I didn't lie.

"It was great! Thank you so much. Now I can check that off my Bucket List."

The only problem is, when I turn 62, I have to REMEMBER I had a motorcycle ride.

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