everything happens for a reason.

I was going to say that on Saturday “everything went wrong.” But on closer inspection I've realized there was just a smidge too much hyperbole in that sentence. So let’s just say that Saturday was a hot mess where about 70% of things went wrong. Something inside me just wouldn’t let every little thing that got in the way wreck my day. Had I been in my mid-30s and tried to survive a day of: delays, detours, highway shut downs, and touchy state troopers, I would’ve ended up locked up. I’m glad I’m no longer in my 30s.

And in the midst of all this there were some cool things. In the middle of the day (while driving) I caught Daryl McDaniel’s rebroadcast of the story he told on The Moth. 

I’ve never been a Sarah McLachlan fan but after hearing DMC’s story I thought I’d give it a try. I’m glad that her music saved his life but for me, no way. It has the reverse effect and makes me suicidal; but I was stoked to hear that she saved DMC’s life. When you get to the end of his story you learn why they were vibrating on the same level.

During the highway shut down after I’d managed to find the little country road that served as the detour, I sat in traffic. I used my really cool new camera, that I keep on me at all times, to take some photos.

As my day of perseverance wound down, I got home and thought. “Phew.” (I was actually mildly shocked that I hadn’t lost it. Maybe all the years of meditating are finally paying off?)  Next I decided that I would do several things: continue to listen to the World Series on the radio, bake something delicious, let go of whatever it was that was dogging me.

A few years back when I couldn’t write as well as I wanted (and I still struggle with that), I turned to baking. I knew that if I was in search of perfection I could find it in the kitchen or more specifically in the oven. I believe that we control the things we can control and then do our darnedest to let go of everything else. Saturday night I wanted comfort food. I wanted biscuits. When I thought some more I realized I was looking for an excuse to eat butter.

The homemade biscuits were chased with homemade custard. It was the top of the eighth, the game was tied, and time for me to to call it a day. A long weird day. What was supposed to be a drive of no more than 100 miles round trip and a total of 3 hours, ended up 350 miles and a total of 14 hours.