After reading that title you are probably going huh? If you think about it you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. Murphy’s Law — if anything can go wrong it will. Comedy — finding the humor in anything and everything. Drama — something serious and/or with conflict. Put those altogether and what do you have? My life this past week.
Picture Lucille Ball, Home Improvement, and Grace Under Fire all wrapped into one and you’re probably coming close. Of course it all didn’t seem comical at the time, there were some pretty good moments of stress, but overall you just have to roll with the punches.
Monday actually started the week off pretty good. I was busy at work, but afterwards spent a nice evening at home. Maybe that should have been an indication that all good things must come to an end.
Tuesday evening about 7 pm my phone rings. “What are you doing?”
“I’m in Rochester at a my Freelance Writer’s meeting, why?”
“Oh shoot, that won’t work. We were on our way to Ann Arbor and Rob’s car just died on us, we’re in Detroit, but you’re too far away. We’ll call his mom.”
My daughter, her three young children and her boyfriend, stranded more than an hour from where I was. I wasn’t really familiar with the area they broke down in, but let’s face it, stranded in Detroit is not a good thing. She is 32 and capable of handling things on her own, but as a mother and grandmother you worry. I received a text that Rob’s aunt, who lives in Detroit, went and picked them up right away because the area they were in was a bad section. Rob’s mother was on the way to pick them up from the aunt’s house and transport them back home. At least I knew they were safe.
Before they left the vehicle the first time Rob told Carrie to gather up absolutely everything out of the inside of the car, and she was smart enough to even empty the glove box so there was no revealing information about their residence or anything left. When the aunt took Rob back to the vehicle an hour later it had been trashed – windshield smashed, battery stolen, and inside destroyed. He popped the trunk and retrieved the diapers and other items they had just purchased and left the vehicle there overnight. Not worth repairing, the next day they borrowed a friend’s car hauler and towed it to the junk yard, where they got a whopping $168 for it. Now he is looking for something used, affordable and able to transport him and kids. In the meantime he is driving my single-cab pickup truck my husband used to use for scrapping.
Caroline came to my house and picked up my extra car, a Ford Fiesta, later that night to borrow because her SUV was in the shop. Wednesday afternoon I get a call, “Mom, your car has no oil in it!”
“What do you mean it has no oil? I just had it changed two weeks ago, drove it home from the dealership and it has been sitting in the drive ever since.”
“The oil lights came on and it made a funny sound, I pulled over and checked the oil, there is nothing in it.”
I called the dealership, they didn’t think it made sense but said not to drive it, they would send a tow truck. I called my daughter to let her know what was happening. Okay, moment of emotional breakdown here — my daughter’s SUV was at the dealership having repair work done on it for the third time, which was the reason she borrowed my car after her boyfriend’s car died, my Ford Fiesta she was borrowing is now being towed, my 2-year old granddaughter was at a day care approximately 25 miles from home, my daughter was going to be without any vehicle except for my pickup truck. It wasn’t looking good, two adults each with jobs in totally different areas, three young children and down to a single cab pickup they were borrowing from me.
Her voice cracked, “Mom, I have no car to drive.”
I took a deep breath to hold it together. “Where is Alex’s day care center? If needed I’ll leave work early and go pick her up. Am I on the list?”
Stress, Stress, Stress.
The good news — my daughter’s SUV was done and ready for pickup by the time she and the tow truck arrived at the dealership. The next morning I received a call that my car was fine, they forgot to hit the reset button when doing the oil change and the synthetic oil is clear so it can not be seen. My daughter had put a quart of oil into it, thinking it was empty, so it was now over filled. The dealership flushed it out and re-filled, no charge to me.
Thursday I get a call from my daughter’s boyfriend, “Was there a warranty on the brakes for the pickup when Ron had them done?”
“I don’t think Ron had the brakes done, and if he did I have no idea where he had them put on.”
As it turns out, the pickup, which is used mainly for gathering and hauling metal scrap, went quickly from the brakes seeming fine to showing they needed to be changed. How bad? Rob pulled into a shop to look into purchasing a set and before he could do that one fell off. It had rusted off! He purchased brakes, borrowed tools and changed that particular one right there in the parking lot. The other one he did later that evening at home. Good to go, maybe?
The next day Rob was driving the truck about 60 mph when the hood suddenly pops open, comes back and hits the windshield. The hood latch had rusted through and given out, so now a new hood and new windshield are needed. They are on a junkyard search for a hood. Windshield will get replaced. Did I mention I had just purchased new plates/tabs for that vehicle on Wednesday and this happened one day later? Ever feel like your life is moving as if you’re on a steep hill standing on sheer ice?
What the heck, might as well finish off my Thursday mowing the lawn, which is on a riding mower so old it is Montgomery Ward brand. No grass catcher, so it always leaves a nice trail of mowed grass and doesn’t get super close to the garden borders and fence so a lot of areas that always need to be trimmed, but not enough time to do that all in one night. Hence I finish off my Thursday with a mowed lawn containing rows of mowed grass heaps and a fringe of long grass along all the raised borders, fence, etc. plus other areas that the rider can’t go into that are still long because they must be done with either a push mower or weed wacker. Just call my lawn Hillbilly Haven.
So I’ve verbally dealt with brake endangerment and/or replacement, the mowing of a lawn, and decide to take a well deserved rest in the hot tub. I wear my new bathing suit, one of those tankinis. Normally I’m a one-piece wearer, but I figured the look of a one-piece, convenience of a two piece, what could go wrong? Little did I know. Removal of a bathing suit top in a dressing room v. when it is wet are two different things. When wet the back of the top feels like it is suctioned to my body and won’t let go. So here I am in my bathroom trying desperately to extract myself from a bathing suit top that seems to be attached to my body with glue and I’m trying to figure out how to raise the back for removal without destroying the thing. I can only imagine I must have looked like a really bad contortionist trying to remove myself from the grips of spandex. I was about ready to break a sweat when I finally got that thing to let go of me.
Friday, sweet Friday. Buried at work so I stay until 8 pm getting things done, run home and grab a quick dinner than head up to boat night — a huge event in Port Huron every year. It is the downtown party on the eve of the Port Huron to Mackinac sailboat race. Upon my arrival I decided to “go live” on Facebook for the first time ever. Shouldn’t that come with an instruction manual? Watching the video later it was pretty comical. I thought I was pausing the “live” part but apparently I wasn’t. We have the phone being moved erratically, complete darkness when I put it into my pocket for a short period of time. and a view of everyone’s feet walking around. Guess I should have looked around for an 8-year old to give me instruction before publishing that lovely documentary.
I arrive home from Boat Night about 11:00 pm. As I’m walking into the house I feel something hit my head. Hopefully not a spider — they tend to inhabit my front porch at night. I walk into the bathroom and there on my head is a lime green creature. It resembles a grasshopper with very long skinny legs and antennae. I grab a tissue and try to grab it, but miss. It must fly. I located it on the wall behind me. It doesn’t hop, it crawls. Rather bizarre creature. Guess I should have taken a picture, but at that particular moment I didn’t think of it. I grab it in the tissue, throw it in the toilet, and flush. End of bug….or not. The next morning I go into that bathroom and guess what — the green bug is dead but floating in the toilet. I use the facilities, flush and walk away. A few hours later I go in to again to use the facilities and everything flushed down the toilet, but the green bug is back and floating in the bowl. This happened at least three times. It was the dead bug that wouldn’t go…it was haunting me!
Saturday went well, probably because I stayed inside doing paperwork all day. Not too much tragedy when one is firmly planted in a chair — except when you sit too long and the tendon in your left arm tightens up and your foot falls asleep. I must say the advantage of living alone when you are hobbling along on a foot that is asleep while trying to straighten and shake out your left arm is that no one is there to witness or video the moment. I had the movements of a monster in a horror film.
Sunday, sweet relaxing Sunday, a day of rest and leisure. Who am I kidding, my Sunday was far from that. I spent several hours doing paperwork, then went outside to work on weed-wacking and raking the lawn. Well, the batteries for the weed wacker only run about 30 minutes each, and one for some reason died after about 15 minutes, so didn’t get a lot done. I still have a lot of fringe around the edges of my lawn.
It has been so hot I decided to see if some tree branches that fell in the spring and didn’t get cut up were dry enough I could break them into pieces to put in a lawn/leaf bag for collection. They were, so there I was He-Woman breaking those limbs down with my small, garden-gloved hands and shoving them into the lawn/leaf bag. Some of the larger ones required a bit more, so I would stand on one end and bend the other end up toward me attempting to break it off. Only lost my balance a couple times but with some wild karate chop maneuvers managed to regain my balance and stay on my feet. Poked myself in the stomach with the end of a branch once, and didn’t scream when I almost grabbed a spider off the ground. Maybe there is hope for me yet.
So I’ve wacked the weeds, bagged the branches, and now I’m ready to gather the grass. I like hot weather but it is no fun when trying to rake and sweat is running off your forehead and into your eyes, which makes your eyes sting. By the time I got to the backyard I wanted to get it all into one bag and be done with it. It was one very full paper lawn and leaf bag. No room to roll the top over. I pushed the grass down as much as I could, but it still was full right to the top. It wasn’t heavy to carry from the backyard to the end of the drive, but it was awkward because I had to be careful so I didn’t trip and spill it. Hopefully no one was watching as I did a waddle-walk with the bag gripped between my hands in front of me as I walked the length of the drive.
I decided to sweep off my front porch. Spiders come out at night, so I am constantly sweeping and/or spraying away the webs. I’m walking along, sweeping the porch and walked right into one of those fine spider webs you can’t see, all over my face. Ugghh! It feels like you have this sticky substance on your face and you just want it off. There I am, wiping my face with my hands frantically trying to get this web substance off me. Why in the world must spiders build there webs where people intend to walk? Can’t they stay away from houses and leave us humans alone? Apparently not.
Those aren’t all the things that went wrong during my week. I’ve only blessed you with the highlights. So how did I get through a Murphy’s Law Comedy Drama week without falling apart or killing someone? I look for the humor in each situation.
Picture a favorite comedy show character and/or show….I Love Lucy, Tim the Tool Man, Grace Under Fire, Sienfeld, or any other show. Picture the main character in one of the above situations. When reality is not reality but a comedy show it is funny. When you’re having one of those weeks and living the reality, look for the humor in each situation. Try to relax, go with the flow. It won’t be a Murphy’s Law Comedy Drama week every week. At least I hope not!
Does this mean I wouldn’t want to know? Absolutely not. I like harmony and can sense when people around me are not in balance. If I sense an imbalance in someone and they don’t say why, I then worry that I have caused the discourse. If I know that I am the cause of someone’s displeasure, then my mind is racked with trying to figure out why.
alignment. Because we like things to be fair and equal, if there is discourse our problem solving skills involve weighing the situation from every possible angle. We Libras love debate because it challenges the brain, develops the ability to think creatively, and it solves problems. When we feel we may be the subject of discontent that debate goes on in our head weighing every possibility, trying to figure out how to resolve the issue or obtain the answers on the “why” of a situation.
We would sit on the porch playing jacks. At one time I was able to handle pick-ups of 20 jacks at a time. We played a lot. Do kids play jacks anymore? Are they even available to purchase? Ours were tiny metal jacks with a small red ball. What about hula hoops and pogo sticks? With a swing of the hips your hula hoop could be forced up to the neck or down to the knees and back to the waste. Regular jump rope, Chinese jump rope, and hop scotch kept us busy.
Back then most people did not have air conditioning. Windows were open, fans were used. One strong childhood summer memory does not involve me but my father. He would mow the lawn and then afterward watch the ball game on TV. One of my favorite scents and sounds of summer is the combination of fresh mowed grass and a baseball ball game on the TV or radio.
The reality is most couples are not as completely consumed in each others lives as we were. They spend more time doing things on their own and socializing with others. Living alone has allowed me to adjust to doing things on my own. I am still learning how to involve others in my plans so I am not always a solo act.
rejuvenated again. It is a battle of the brain, which way to go.
Could my difficulty in saying goodbye be because when I was about three years old we moved several hours away from my grandparents and that regular, long-term weekly contact was broken? Did that somehow affect my inner sense of security and well-being?
Self-analysis on one’s own behavior is introspective but does not always provide the answers one looks for. In this case I will likely never know the true reason on why I find it so hard to say goodbye, but I believe it may be linked to those two significant changes in my life resulting in separation from people with whom I was very close. I was too young to really remember them, but that doesn’t mean they did not impact my personality in some way.
I found this frustrating as he suffers from depression and I would wonder how he was doing. Then suddenly I would receive an email or message. There were always reasons for his disappearance…busy, kids, grandchildren, sickness, depression…but were they reasons, or excuses? In my opinion there is a fine line between the two, and I wasn’t quite sure on which side it fell. Things would improve for a bit but eventually would fall back into the old pattern.
Boy, does this sound like a major pity-party or what! The fact of it is, I am alone. I have to figure out how to juggle the yard work and get it done. I have to eat alone, plan my own weekends, get out and be active by myself. When I’m sick and have chills, that’s the way it goes. I’m alone and I have to deal with it. That is life. That is reality. Pity-Party over.
So what do I do now? I pick up where I left off and keep on writing. When I have completed the first draft I will go back and re-work, edit, and tweak every chapter. From a legal standpoint I have to determine for which persons I will use real names and which people will have their name changed. As I work my way through the writing and editing process I may on occasion share a small section here as a post.
After several nights with no sleep I finally realized what the problem was. I wasn’t used to making these decisions. I had always left them to my husband, but now with him gone I had to handle these things myself. Once I realized that my mind was playing tricks on me and keeping me awake needlessly over decisions that were reasonable to make I was able to once again resume normal sleep.
Murphy’s Law #8: It has been a crazy couple of weeks at work. Friday was like a triple Monday. Throughout the week things had come up that took priority and pushed other things back. I ended the week feeling burned out and more buried then when the week began.
When a child is born touch brings it comfort. You hold it, rock it, feed it. You do those things when it is happy, you do those things when it is stressed. The baby learns love thought the power of touch. To an adult, there is nothing as unique and cozy as a small infant cuddled up against your neck sleeping.
That is why I was writing this post in my head as I lay in bed awake a few nights ago. My husband passed away fifteen months ago. I couldn’t sleep and I was laying in a lonely bed. I missed having someone there to cuddle up to, to touch, to help me relax so I could doze off.
When you are born a lover of the written word it never goes away, it just transitions over time. Writing and literature go hand-in-hand. My high school classes were filled with literature…classes in modern short stories, mysteries, American literature, Advanced Grammar and Composition, and more. When I went back to college in 2010 one of my favorite classes was public speaking because I was writing whatever I chose to talk about. It was fun!
I write in many formats. I titled this blog Life is a Melting Pot because my life is a jumble of various activities and I like to write about whatever strikes me at the moment. This blog is not the only regular writing I do. For the past eight years I have held the position of newsletter editor of Bluewater Family Backgrounds, a publication of the St. Clair County Family History Group. As the editor I gather content and put together the entire newsletter, writing some articles that go into it. I have been writing a column called “Who AM I?” for the past five and one-half years for The Lakeshore Guardian, and local free publication. The column is on genealogy. I am in my fourth year as an opinion columnist for our local newspaper, The Times Herald. I select my topics and how often I write a column, frequently selecting topics that can be a bit controversial. Finally, my daytime job is that of Paralegal in which I spend my days doing legal writing. All of the areas in which I write are slightly different and I enjoy each one.
I belong to a Freelance Writer’s Group and at the meetings I see a variety of people with a wide range of interests. The group includes people who write children’s stories, adult novels, travel columns, science fiction, non-fiction, memoir, and more. We all have one thing in common…we love to write! Writers are like any other type of artist, they are imaginative, creative, passionate about their art, well-read, self-promoters and self-starters. Writing is something you do solo; you have to be motivated to write or you will never succeed. Writers love words, language, and people watching. Everything is a potential story or scene. If you spend much time with a writer you may find yourself popping up in their stories, blogs, or columns. You may not be there in name, but you will likely recognize a scene in which you have lived.
--- LIFE IS A MELTING POT --- Grace Grogan...Writer, Photographer 