You know what’s funny. We don’t have any damn idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, and yet, we pretend we do. We plan in cement. We project years into the future, because we know what’s going to happen, based solely on nothing more than what we want to happen. And guess what? It’s all fairy dust. Because in a time span that is smaller than infinitesimal, your plans, your road map for life, your strategically though-out and uber well conceived plot can fail faster than a cat can catch a mouse locked in a small closet. I mean this idea that we have any control is funnier than anything that’s ever come out of the mouths of Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Amy Schumer, and Mindy Kaling COMBINED. And that’s a lot of funny. Maybe we’re born seeking control. Maybe it’s all that time spent locked inside the womb with no way out. Maybe we’re all like, “Once I get outta here, I am making my own decisions. I will never eat another one of those fucking multi-vitamin horse pills as long as I live.” But try as we may, we don’t have any control over anything. Consider yourself lucky if you’ve got a remote for your tv, because that’s the closest you’re going to come to controlling anything in this lifetime. And truthfully, it’s a little bit what makes this thing a horse race. If you could really control your world, it might not be so interesting, because while maybe you’re thinking that I’m describing the lack of control we have as solely negative, I also think it can spring up in ways that are wildly positive, life altering, and downright amazing. I met my husband by accident. I tried to plan meeting a great guy for years, but I never met “the one.” Not until fate intervened, plans disappeared, and spontaneity ruled the day. I didn’t think I’d get to have a second baby, but I got pregnant in two months (after three years of infertility with my first). I have a long list of stuff that has happened because my plans failed, the control I thought I had was on vacation. Who knows? Who know what and why and where and when? We don’t. That’s who. I’m pretty sure learning to enjoy our utter lack of control, is a key step in making ourselves happy. Let go. See what happens. There really isn’t anyone at the wheel. And maybe that’s actually ok.
So, last night we were going to see Birdman, with the second choice of Whiplash at the Coolidge, but when we got to the ticket window, they were both sold out, because we didn’t pre-buy at like 10:00 in the morning, so we were loitering outside the theater when we saw our friends Jocelyn and Paul. We had an impromptu dinner that was even better than either of those movies.
I love when a spontaneity strikes. It’s one of those great moments that somehow feels like it was slipped in under the wire. Like you pulled one over on fate. Like you got an extra dollop of whipped cream that had no calories.
And my meal was really great too (so good, I didn’t even share)–chicken wrapped around avocado. #perfectsaturdaynight. viva la spontaneity.
Don’t you love when you wake up on a Sunday without plans and then one magically materializes, and it winds up being complete perfection? Like if you tried to plan it, it never would have come off right, but because it just happened, it was exactly right in every way. Enter Facebook, and a blog post on Rhode Island, and my old roommate Leah, who lives six minutes from me, and who I do a lot of technological staying in touch with, but not real life seeing, and ba da boom, a Sunday off-the-leash dog walk around Lake Waban on Wellesley’s campus, where I had never been before, and where nature does its thing in the best possible way.
Leah has great energy, and she’s smart and funny, and she has Stanley, her fearless five pound dog, who thinks he’s part of Hell’s Angels. After our walk, she took me to Volante Farm, where I’d never been, and we looked at flowers and plants and bought some yummy stuff to eat, and then we stared at the lines of summer flowers being grown, which I’d only ever seen in bouquets at the farmer’s market, and which I couldn’t take my eyes off of. We then lounged in her backyard, where our dogs pranced around, and we gabbed and ate until our tongues were tired. Spontaneous Sunday. Absolute A++++.
Ally went to a concert last night, and Peter had to bring her and her friends, and pick her up when it was over, so we couldn’t really make plans. It turned out that Jake wasn’t going out until late (like when I’d usually already be in bed for 3 hours), and we had a window, so we spontaneously went out to dinner with him. We went to one of our old favorites–Harvest. The fact that this night just sort of happened was part of what made it so nice. The food was, as it always is, exceptional. I had a piece of beef tenderloin shipped in from heaven. I almost licked the plate (it was embarrassing). The weather was cool, and though there wasn’t a table on the patio, we were right next to it with the door open, so almost as good. It was one of those nights I will recall in the middle of winter, and maybe even for the rest of my life. Note to self: be more spontaneous.