It’s Fate

When I was in high school and college, I dreamed about what guys might ask me out someday, and who I might one day marry. I wondered how I would meet my future husband. Where could I go RIGHT NOW to find him? I wondered if maybe it was even someone that I had already met. What if it was someone that I had met, but missed the spark? What if I had passed them on the street and NEVER EVEN KNEW that they were the one that I was to spend my life with? What if I MISSED my chance, somehow?

When very lonely, this path of thinking can drive a person insane. There is no way to know who or where the right person is, until it feels RIGHT.

Ponder that.

When I was in school, I always felt weird when I would see kids from school out in public with their parents. At school, we were all just individuals. I often forgot the other kids actually had families at home waiting for them. And my first instinct is always to not talk and pretend I didn’t see them.

One of the first times I can remember this happening was at the local small grocery store in my small town growing up. I was YOUNG, maybe only second or third grade. I saw another girl from my class, J, at the store. She was with her whole family, which looked like an army to me. I was there shopping with just my mom, as always. J had her mom, an older sibling, and younger siblings. My mom & I passed them in the frozen food aisle. I probably whispered to my mom that I went to school with that girl. I can’t remember if there was a Dad there or not. It was freakin’ over 30 years ago, it is amazing I can even remember it at all.

J’s family was so large, they all just sort of lumped together in my memory. The only thing notable was that her youngest sibling was in a sort of glorified stroller. It had brown padding, like it was custom made. I just sort of had the errant thought of “Oh, she has a handicapped sister.” And from then on, I just sort of knew that about J’s home life. Just something I filed away for later in my brain. If I overheard J talk in school about her, or if she gave a report in class about it or something, I would just sort of be like “Oh ya, I saw her once.”

Chew on that.

My best friend in high school was on the verge of dating this guy, C, a year behind us in school. We were seniors, so C would have been a junior. She was spending a lot of time with this C and his friend, S. I had never met S. But sometimes as we drove around town in her car while she smoked, there would be someone rollerblading and she would be like “Oh, that’s S, C’s friend.” One day he was rollerblading with no shirt on, and because I was a goofy teenage girl, I yelled out the window “Put some clothes on!”. We found it hilarious.

Wait for it.

J’s graduation party was on the same day as high school graduation. Our graduating class only had 94 students, so, although I wasn’t popular by ANY means, the odds were in my favor that I would be invited to a few parties. J was in a mediumly-popular group, mostly choir and drama peeps. For some reason, I was invited to her party, so I went. It was held in the local library meeting room, which happens to come in handy as a nice size for large family events.

I saw J. I saw my fellow graduates, all giddy on the freedom high. At one point, I remember a boy heading out the door past me. I was like, “Oh, he looks like J. That must be her brother.”

Stay with me. We are close to the magical ending.

A little over a month later, I would kiss that boy that passed through the doors at J’s grad party. He IS J’s younger brother. I would learn that he was C’s best friend, S. The very same guy on the rollerblades that I had yelled at to put his clothes on.

I went off to college. (That sounds dramatic. It wasn’t.) I was lonely and whiny and no one loved me. I wrote depressing poetry and stories. Now I just occasionally post them on this blog for free. Someday I will trick people into paying to read them.

About 2 1/2 years later, S & I would start dating. Six and a half years later, we would be married. A year later, we would buy a house and a dog. A year after that, another dog. Once we had mastered dogs, we had our son M.

FATE-meme

By the way, that library meeting room? I had my bridal shower and baby shower in that room. J held her baby shower there. The younger handicapped sister? We held an apartment shower for her in that room when she moved out on her own.

Do you remember back to the beginning of this post?

My future husband was one of the kids I passed in the frozen food aisle at my local grocery store. I had seen him when I was probably about 8, and would not know for years and years that he would be the one that I would marry.

This is one of those incidents in life that makes me believe that their is a force called Fate that surrounds us all and controls our destinies. I also think Fate can be cruel, and sets up incidents to work out for its own amusement.

And S & M & Dave & I lived happily ever after.

THE END

What I Learned This Week – 9/21/14

I have ALWAYS wondered who sings the songs during the chase scenes on the TV series Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?

Many years ago, I bought a CD called Scooby Snacks, which included all the great chase songs, such as “Daydreamin'”, “Love The World”, “Recipe for Love”, and my personal favorite, “Seven Days a Week”. But the liner notes never listed who actually sang the songs. I am sure it was never in the dude’s original contract to be compensated for any further release of the songs. He never could have known in 1969 that people in 2014 would want to listen to his music on CD, mp3, DVD, etc.

Scooby Snacks CD

Scooby Snacks CD

The magic of Google always impresses me.

I just typed in the song title+Scooby Doo, and within a minute, I learned this week that the guy who sang all the songs above is actually Austin Roberts.

According to Wikipedia, Roberts also sings the THEME SONG to Scooby Doo, Where are You?. [Note: If you are not an expert Scooby-phile, I will let you know that there are many, many versions of the Scooby Doo theme song. But “Where are You?” is the first, and one of the best.

Roberts has worked steadily all these years, primarily as a songwriter, and is almost as old as my mom.

Here is a video of “7 Days a Week” in action:

This week I also met Teddy Roosevelt. Wow, in the last three weeks I have had my picture taken with two past presidents (the other was a Lincoln statue in Gettysburg).  President Roosevelt even gave my son the “teddy” bear he is holding in the picture.

President Theodore Roosevelt, M, and me

President Theodore Roosevelt, M, and me

I have been just a little obsessed with the 7-part documentary that PBS aired last week, The Roosevelts. You can still watch it now at http://video.pbs.org/program/roosevelts/ [Expires 8 days from now].

I Don’t Know Jack

Jack the Lost Cat

Jack the Lost Cat

…but I wish that I knew Jack. I could totally use an extra $500 of non-reportable income right about now.

These posters showed up in my neighborhood a few weeks ago. My first impression is that someone must REALLY want this cat back. I imagine that it must have been some little girl’s treasured pet. This must be her parent’s attempt to cheer her up.

When the posters first appeared, I was impressed by the use of fancy neon posterboard, full color large photo, and lamination. These signs have been through several rainstorms. They are durable. Every corner in my neighborhood has several posted. These people must have some money. Most people would not go to so much effort to find a cat.

Then the $500 reward was added to the poster.

Then the cell number instructing you to “take a pic”.

Then they went around and hand-wrote his name on all the posters.

I now sometimes find myself outside yelling “Jack. Jack!” I want to find this stinking cat.  And I don’t even like cats.  It is just all about the benjamins.

The closest I have come to finding him was some fur that looked like it matched…squished in the middle of the road. I don’t think the family will pay for…

(wait for it)

…a flat Jack.

* I didn’t include the phone numbers, because I figured the family probably didn’t want it all over the Internet.  But, ya know, if you happen to live in lower Michigan and see him, I could hook you up with the contact info…for a small fee.

What I Learned This Week – 9/14/14

The weather has turned cold this week in Michigan.

As usual, we have gone straight from summer to winter. Mother Nature skipped all altogether.

This had me thinking of Hawaii. I have never been, but have always wanted to.

In an alternate universe somewhere, instead of meeting and dating my future husband, after college I moved to a little shack in Hawaii. I lived cheap and rode a bicycle.

I didn’t even know if such shacks actually existed there. The other night, on a whim, I searched for Hawaii real estate. The first property I found was only $19,000. And pink!

Hawaii shack

Hawaii shack

I know, very rustic. Definitely not suitable for a husband, wife, toddler, and a lab mix. But, when I was 22, I could have managed with it.

On Saturday, my family set out to check out a cute little camper. We fell in love with it. While we daydreamed about having the means to tow it home, we garage-saled. We ended up at a local consignment store where we often find treasures.

I found a box of old vintage photographs, marked at one dollar a piece.

This made me very sad. All these images of people. These aren’t models paid to be in advertisements. These were real people, captured living their lives. Pawing through the box, I could tell that sometimes there were several pictures of the same person, throughout their lives.

The box of vintage photos

The box of vintage photos

How did they end up here? Did their families clean out a house when there was a death and they were just dumped here? Even if you didn’t know who they were, isn’t it someone’s duty to hold on to them? How can people just cast away their family members?  Maybe i just have that mindset because I have so little family, and know so little about the rest.

It instantly made me sad. I don’t want my picture cast aside in a box marked at a dollar for some stranger to snicker at when I am gone. I want my life to add up to more than that. I want to be remembered.

I felt like I had to give at least one of these people in the vintage pictures a new home. I ended up bringing home two.

Mrs. Nora Hamilton, Jennie Wade, and unknown woman

Mrs. Nora Hamilton, Jennie Wade (Gettysburg souvenir), and unknown woman

The first picture I chose was a woman standing with a hat on outdoors. There is no identification of any kind on the picture. She has on glasses. If you look quickly, she is smiling. If you look closer, you realize that maybe she isn’t. At first I thought she was a teenager. But, the styles of the time make it difficult to tell. She could be in her 20’s, or a youthful 30.

She could be me.

The second picture looks to be of a young woman. On the back is scrawled the name Mrs. Nora Hamilton. She looks sooo young. How can she already be married? The photo was taken by Gibson and Robbins studio in Ypsilanti, Michigan. What was going on in her life that day when the photo was taken? She probably had no children, or they would have been in the picture with her. Where is her husband? Maybe he is away at war, or died on the Titanic, or of the Spanish influenza.

She is too beautiful to be me.

I have no idea when either picture was taken.

I seem to be starting a new collection of old pictures.

I don’t know what I will do with these pictures, but I like looking at them. I am sure parts of their lives were very different than mine. No cell phones, no dishwashers, no television.  Maybe no cars.  But disagreeing with their husbands, trying to balance the responsibilities of a household, feeling passionately happy and deeply depressed–these must be all things that we do have in common.

Right above the bin of vintage pictures, was a little watercolor that caught my eye. I didn’t need it, but it spoke to me. It featured a cat, and I don’t even like cats. I peeked at the back of the frame, where there was a mini biography of the artist.

I bought it.

The artist lives and paints in Hawaii. It seemed like some sort of sign.

Holly Kitaura painting

Holly Kitaura painting

I really like the trees. And the grass. The quilt I started years ago has a similar curly cue pattern.

I looked up the artist, Holly Kitaura’s, website. Look at what else I found…

Rainbow Hale by Holly Kitaura

Rainbow Hale by Holly Kitaura

Maybe I can retire there someday.

Morning Thoughts

I often think it would be better to live back in the pioneer days. My mom pointed out the other day that people back then worked from sun up to sun down, and it was a hard life. But think about it.

Hahaha

Hahaha

Farmers, for instance largely (with exceptions, of course) worked for themselves. Sure, we can get a 40 hour a work week, and the rest is free time. But that is 40 hours of YOUR LIFE every week that you are working for someone else, doing their menial tasks, and missing out on seeing your family. If you were back in the old days, you had to spend all day washing clothes, growing and preparing food, and making your own clothes, soap, etc. But it was FOR YOU! If you slacked off, then you had nothing to eat. Your family worked at your side next to you.

MORNING THOUGHTS-pioneer woman

I used to have a monotonous job that I knew exactly what to expect everyday. That job bored me to tears, and I hated it.

Now I have a job that challenges me. Everyday is something new. Now I crave the familiarity of boring.

I have issues with having a job just for a paycheck. I feel like I should enjoy it, and be happy to go and spend my time there. This is where my anxiety comes from. What if I am wasting precious hours of my life doing THE WRONG THINGS? I don’t have a problem with being a responsible adult. I have problems with the precious moments of my limited life slipping away. That is why getting up every morning currently give me life-altering anxiety.

MORNING THOUGHTS-anxiety girl

When I was in school, I once thought if I sat for long enough and thought hard enough, that I could figure out how the universe was created. I tried it one day.

Nothing.

But this illustrates my point. WHY can’t I just accept the Big Bang theory or Creation or Aliens grew us in their laboratory? Why do I feel like I have to do everything myself? It was the same way when I started my quilt. I didn’t want to read any books about it or ask anyone. I just wanted to invent my own way.

I am a person who felt guilty leaving my dog at home by herself for 4 hours daily. My husband and I worked different shifts for years, and one consideration for that for me was always that the dogs did not have to hold their pee for 8 or 9 hours. Now, our one remaining dog is now along for 9 hours in a day. But we avoided it for as along as possible.

Other people seem to be able to just work 40 hours (or more) and drop their kids off at daycare with no problem. Some people do this from the time that their children are born. I was lucky enough to have three years at home with my rug rat.

What is wrong with me? Why do I have to question every tiny aspect of my life to try and figure out if it is right or wrong until everything just seems wrong? Why can’t I just chill and be happy?

And the thing is, when my kid and I were at home, he spent large quantities of time watching television and trying my patience until I yelled at him. Maybe he is better off learning educational fundamentals and surrounded by adults who have to be more patient with him, because it is against the law not to?

I can’t be the only one bothered by all of this. My asbestos friend makes an annual list of why she home-schools. Near the top (not that the reasons are ranked) is always “we would miss our girl if she was gone to school for 8 hours everyday.” She works part-time, so somehow her life magically balances out with lots of family time, even with all the volunteering she does. Her family gets along very well on little income.

My household does not. We bought our modest house at the height of the real estate market. We both recently bought new cars, now incurring car loans. We didn’t do this lightly. We had kept the old vehicles for 14 years and 10 years. But now we are trapped in this work cycle. It is not so bad for my husband. He worked 4-10hr days. Therefore, he gets a 3 day weekend every week.

MORNING THOUGHTS-Oregon Trail

Sometimes it hits me that my dog is gone.

My car is gone.

My best friend’s dad is gone.

All in the last month.

Soon I will be gone as well.

I have to hurry up and get my eight potential books published before it is too late…

(Maybe I should start with ONE book first.)