June Carter used respond “I’m just trying to matter” when asked how she was doing. Tonight, I received a very unexpected email which told me I’d mattered to someone.
During the summer, I crossed paths with a lovely young couple. They were in a rut and couldn’t see a way forward. By complete fluke, I’d finished a project and had information at hand that could help. I listened. They chatted. I gave them the relevant information. We said our goodbyes.
I marvelled at the randomness of the encounter and how sometimes we are meant to cross someone’s path. A month earlier and I would not have had that information.
They emailed to tell me how things turned out and it was all such positive news. I am so delighted for them. They really do deserve good luck.
And today’s contenders for the Darwin Awards are…
The *seven* people who walked behind my car while I was reversing…
The woman who hesitated and yet still walked into the parking space just at the *exact* minute I was driving in…
Special Recognition Award goes to the Little Boy Racer who decided to ignore the fact my car was stopped, with my hazard lights flashing brightly, and accelerated to overtake me, narrowly avoiding ploughing into the car stalled lengthways across the road…
“Coming to town on Saturday?”
“Huh? I’m driving in. Come with us.”
“I thought you’d a gang of them to choose from.”
“Oh, we had. And now we have none.”
“How did that happen?”
“The ‘Animal Whisperer’ saw each and every one of them off.”
“We didn’t know what was going on. The missus pays them well. Often leaves them dinner even. They all seemed fine and then I’d phone and they were busy. When it got to the last one, I wasn’t letting it go. Had to know why.”
“Poor girl stuttered out her reason. I think she thought I’d be angry with her. I was angry but not with her. With my darling 3 year old.”
“No sooner would we be out the door than herself would throw a fit and become totally catastrophic.”
“Ah, the poor pet!”
“Poor pet, me arse. She had them looking for her pet lizard. Inside and outside.”
“Why did the lizard keep going missing?”
“There is NO lizard!”
“She got to stay up late and the babysitter was in such a tiss when she couldn’t find the lizard. Afraid to come back and find out what happened to it.”
“So what now?”
“Stern words to herself and a lot of nights in for the foreseeable.”
For years, I have put bread and nuts out for the birds. Not any more. For the past two weeks, I have a seagull coming to the window and banging on it to be fed. The Apres Teen thought I was making it up until she witnessed it first-hand. Her reaction? “Mum, you have created a monster. Would serve you right if it breaks through the glass, comes into the room and pecks at you!”
Now me and that bird – we play a game of tag. It knocks and I run it off. If I don’t, it keeps banging on the glass.
One morning, I heard it knocking downstairs. Deciding to ignore it, I fell back to sleep. And then there was more knocking but this time it sounded as if it was on my bedroom door. Freaked that the Apres Teen’s prophecy had come true, I got up to investigate. More knocking. This time at the window of my *first floor* bedroom. Pulled back the blind expecting to see that damn seagull again but no, it was a Magpie taking up the charge!
Hitchcock would be loving this!
Pottering around upstairs while the Apres Teen eats brunch lounging on one of our many couches. Next I hear… “STOP!” “Go away!” “No, I am not feeding you !!!” “I am NOT my mother!”
And the seagull still keeps tapping!
I hadn’t seen it in days so it obviously thinks the AP is a safer bet. “Film it!” roars me down the stairs. “I. WILL. NOT!” comes the reply. “That will only encourage the fecker!”
Interesting chat with my daughter about how, in ‘the old days’, you weren’t able to set your alarm clock for over 12 hours. Trying to explain that, no matter how exhausted you were, you’d have to wait up to set the clock made no sense to her. It’s on par with trying to explain that, before the internet, you had to ask people for their address and phone number if you wanted to make contact again…
Hallowe’en always brings back memories of when my daughter was a tiny tot. Her first outing was when we were living in the wilds of west Kerry. Off she went into the darkness with all the neighbours’ children and returned home stunned/shocked with all the sweets she had been given on her travels around the village. And then, she took something out of her swag bag, extended her small arm with an apple held in her hand – bewildered, disgusted, confused – as if it might poison her. She looked up at me with sad, tear-filled eyes, and said ‘But Mrs X gave me…’ and she stuttered out the dreaded word ‘f-r-u-i-t.’
I don’t think she ever darkened that lady’s door (ever, ever) again!