My friend, Erica, says I have an unscripted life. It’s probably a good thing. If my life were a Hollywood script, no one would believe it. Take, for instance, the past few days. . . .
I love Saturdays. In theory, it’s one of my writing days. It’s also one of the days I’m free of being responsible for anyone but me. If my life were the layers of a parfait, Saturdays would be the whipped cream on top. Yeah - right - and if you believe that, I’ve got some choice real estate over a waterway to sell.
This past weekend turned into one of those glorious, autumn days. You know the kind. The leaves glow, the air is cool enough to feel cozy in a sweater and the time stretches in front of you without a demanding list of to do’s to be done. You can sit on the porch and enjoy the sunshine without feeling guilty. Which is how I began my day with a hot cup of coffee and interruptions.
There is something about my sitting down that brings out the sense of urgency in everyone else in the house. "Can you program the VCR at 10:30?" "Come inside and see this drawing!" "The phone is ringing." "Did you see?" "Do you know where. . . .?"
Then there always seems to be someone stopping by. My niece, Justi, came by to bring the
fund raising things I’d had to buy from her son, Austin’s school. He’s five, in school ONE week and he brings home the inevitable catalog with the fever of SELL, SELL, SELL in his blue eyes.
My standard practice is to buy the cheapest thing I can get away with. Most of the time it’s not anything I want. This time I managed to get a nice package of spring bulbs for under five dollars.
Miah came out to inspect the bulbs and managed to drop bulb dust in my hot coffee. One cup down. . . . Not to be deterred, I went for another cup, sat down again in the porch swing and waited for the next interruption. That’s the nice thing about interruptions, you never have to wait long. This one was of the did I see variety.
Obviously I’m missing something here so if anyone reading this can make sense of it, please let me know. My brother in law needed the title to his truck which was totaled about a month ago. For some obscure reason, it was on the dashboard of my car. My bil does not drive my car, is rarely IN my car and rides in it once every six months. There was no reason for him to have decided the best place to keep his title was in my car - yet, he did. And sure, I saw it. Or I saw an official looking envelope. Thinking it was my insurance and title (which should have been in the glove box ), I left it until I could do something with it. My theory being I could see it, it wasn’t lost, so who cared if it was there? The trouble was, when bil went to get his title out, it was gone.For some round about reason it was my fault. Two hours later, it was his keys which he’d left on the microwave. And sure, I saw them. . . .but once again they’d vanished.
Okay - another cup of coffee down - the dog got into it while I was in the house searching for the missing keys. Time to move along to something else. . . .
Some days the layers of my life overlap with annoying frustration. I want parfait perfection, each layer in a neat stripe in the glass, not cheese oozing through the meat and potato layers. Today was one of the oozing ones. I needed to finish a book review for the November issue of "Cookies and Milk." Patty, our intrepid formatter, had to go away for a week and I wanted her to leave with November off her mind. To find the books I needed, ones that could be easily checked out of the local library, I had to be online. The problem was, I only have one phone line and needed to keep it open until Jenny called. (Yes, there really is a Jenny - -my niece, who is nothing like the created one of my stories.) Most Saturdays she calls for someone to pick her up so she can spend the night out here.
I’d race online. Look up a few book titles and authors. Sign off. Check the answering machine. Back online. In the midst of this, my niece, Emma, arrived. She had too many "sitters" for awhile, then everything happened at once. Jenny called. Lori and the boys went to pick her up. Mom and Dad went to see about a car. So there I was with a sixteen month old, column work to be done and no help.
Bowing to the inevitable, we went out in the golden day. Emma loves the outdoors. Today she kept throwing her hands back as if she planned to fly away. I chased after her with the camera, hoping to get the perfect shot. Just as she’d get her hands in ‘fly away’ mode, I’d lose the picture. The one at the top is the only one that came out halfway right. When she got tired, we went inside and slow danced to "My Hero’s have always been cowboys." Sweet baby, sweet song, sweet moment.
Baby asleep. Everyone gone. I finished the column without interruption and sent if off to Patty. Some rare moments, everything goes right, even if they are unscripted.