A competition I’d rather stay out of.

Everyone has one of those days when it seems you can’t turn around without being clobbered on the head by a reminder to count your blessings and be grateful for what you have. Yesterday my friend Bill called me bright and early to make sure I was okay. I don’t know about you, but whenever I’m asked that sort of question I always look myself up and down and try to remember what trouble I’ve gotten into lately to worry someone. Turns out I hadn’t done anything – yet. But my friend’s girlfriend had gotten into a car accident (she’s okay, he hurried to add; not hurt at all). After he had found her, helped her sort everything out, and retrieved all necessary information from the person who hit her, he called to complain to his best friend, a mutual friend of ours.

Now, the thing about the three of us is that our karma seems to be locked in some kind of cosmically hilarious loop. Whenever something happens to one of us, it seems to happen to all of us. So, really, my friend should have realized when he called what he was going to hear: our other friend’s wife had been driving to their cabin in Colorado when she hit some black ice, careened through another lane, then opposing traffic, and finally went barreling off the side of the road at 70 mph, tumbling down an embankment. Luckily, she didn’t have a scratch on her. But, still, she was shaken up, had to wait in a snow storm for the police to show up, and then couldn’t even get word to her husband – through state troopers – until 11 p.m. Of course, then Bill felt silly bringing up his girlfriend’s (relatively) minor accident.

Just like I felt silly when Bill asked how I was doing and I thought about how I was going to complain about all the stressors going on in my own life. Hey – they weren’t car accidents.

And then last night, as the girls and I made an impromptu run to the grocery store, we ran into a little girl who Bee apparently knew from school. I stopped to talk to them because I don’t know anyone in Bee’s class, and knowing the parents seems to help when you’re trying to persuade parents to bring their children to birthday parties. Ahem. So while J’s mom and I were becoming acquainted (and J, Gracie and Bee ran around the shopping carts), she mentioned we’d have to set up a playdate soon if we were going to because she was having surgery soon. Yeah – brain surgery, by the way. I found myself exchanging phone numbers and offering to do whatever I could to help out. She seemed very nice and Bee had talked about J. before. I know that she sits at Bee’s table and always gets greens. That and the vibe I got is enough for me. And let’s face it – even if J was rotten, how can you not help out someone you’ve learned is a single mom and has no family in the area? Kinda hard to worry about anything at all when you know you’re brain tumor free.

I don’t wish car accidents or scary surgeries or any other minor or major catastrophes on anyone. But it sure made me appreciate being on the phone with my sister last night, who had finally gotten her power back after ten straight days without, laughing about how she was throwing out cheese (and sniffling about it) in a fancy black funeral dress. (Which she argues is too short for a funeral. Mehmehmeh.) Hey – her laundry had stacked up to emergency proportions last night and fancyschmancy hott funeral dresses was all she had left. And we? We just laughed.

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One Response to “A competition I’d rather stay out of.”

  1. Kathy Says:

    Sometimes it is hard to remember to be thankful. I say, stay out of the competition, you have enough stress already. And freely help Bee’s friend’s family in any way you can.

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