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We All
Have a Plan
By Erin Ann
McBride and Juli Hiatt Caldwell, completely in control
One upon a time
there was a young girl taking the trip of a lifetime. She
stood there posing for the camera on top of a mountain, fulfilling
a lifelong dream. Goal #6: "Climb the Alps."
Check! Done! Wahoo! The smile on her face was
forever memorialized onto the photograph. Tipping her head
back, looking at the sky, she took a step backwards to take into
her surroundings, and OH GROSS! Stepped right into mountain
goat poop! Frantically trying to scrape it off of her shoe,
she lost her balance on the steep mountain, tripped, fell, and
rolled "As You Wish-style" down the side of the mountain,
praying there weren't anymore piles of poop in her path.
Coming to an anything but graceful stop several feet down in elevation,
she looked up the mountain, Alp actually, and looked at her friends.
Needless to say they were doubled over in laughter, taking more
pictures of the memory than necessary. Really, this would
be forever burned in their memories — did they have to waste good
Kodak on it too? She had a feeling someone would be winning
$10,000 on America's Funniest Home Videos if the video camera
caught the full experience.
Same
Girl, Different Continent
Looking
up into the eyes of a very attractive young man, Annie was experiencing
the exhilarating feeling of twitterpation, new lust, and heartburn.
They had just enjoyed a very spicy meal at a local restaurant
before taking a walk in a nearby park. Their faces sparkled
in the moonlight, smiles from ear to ear. It wasn't their
first date, and hopefully if things kept going this well, it wouldn't
be their last date. It had been an unforgettable night.
Goal #1 "Marry in the Temple" was getting just a little
bit closer in sight. Focusing on the glistening blue eyes
just inches from hers, she felt her heartbeat race just a little
faster. And her heartburn sizzling away in her throat.
He said something charming, and lightly reached for her hand.
He leaned a little closer. "Wow, this heartburn is
bad!" She thought to herself, but smiled back at him.
He leaned a little closer. She burped. She burped
badly. She burped up a spicy Thai meal that definitely tasted
better the first time around. He laughed, gave it a score,
then ranked it on his own personal scale. Definitely an
unforgettable night.
Single Girl Daydream #10- Whisked
Off My Feet by a Romantic Stranger
Annie
was a receptionist for a large construction company, where romance
didn’t exactly abound. She sat in a big marble foyer, where dozens
of clients, construction workers, customers, employees, etc.,
would walk past all day long. She spent her hours daydreaming
about one of those big hunky construction workers walking in,
possibly in a torn flannel shirt, hot and sweaty, tanned, with
rippling muscles, saying something romantic, and whisking her
off into the sunset. In some versions of this daydream there
was a Navy officer’s hat as well, but not in every version.
One
quiet afternoon, an unfamiliar young man walked into her foyer,
waking her from her solitary revelry. He was hard to miss. He
clearly was not one of the construction workers, and couldn’t
be an employee or client either. The first thing she noticed
was that he was skinny. Alarmingly thin, in fact. Her nurturing
side wanted to take him home like a straggling stray kitten and
give him a bowl of milk to fatten him up. The second thing she
noticed was that he was wearing a bandana, pirate style, on his
head. (This was long before Johnny Depp had made pirates cool.)
And then she realized that he was looking at her expectantly,
as if she were supposed to read his mind.
“Hello,
my lovely,” said the do-ragged stranger.
She
looked over my shoulder, hoping there was some damsel in distress
he was speaking to. Sadly, there was no one there; all she saw
was the reflection of a very skinny wannabe pirate, wearing jean
shorts that appeared to have been ironed, with a plain white tee
shirt and hiking boots. Despite the ensemble he wore, he still
looked like he was more suited to be a college professor than
a nature nut. Maybe it was the cleanliness of his shirt and shoes,
but she just couldn’t see him roughing it in the Rockies.
“C-can
I help you?” she stammered.
He
reached out his hand. She hesitantly slowly offered hers to offer
a friendly handshake, but he suddenly took her hand and kissed
it. This was highly unusual behavior for a construction company
foyer. “How does the world great you on this beautiful day?”
What language was he speaking? And who the heck is he?
“I’m
fine,” Annie said with uncertainty as she snatched her hand back
as he began to massage it. The phone rang. Saved by the bell!
She answered quickly, hoping that he would go away and about his
business if I started working. The phone call wasn’t long enough.
He was still there.
“Can
I help you?” she tried again, hoping to jerk him back to reality
with her pert, no-nonsense tone of voice.
“My
loveliest Anne, I have come to inquire of your availability for
a night at the opera in three days time.” He offered some sort
of small bow as he spoke.
How
did he know her name? What was going on here?
Suddenly,
the phone rang again. She answered, hoping her voice didn’t sound
as baffled as she felt. “Stanley Martin Companies, how may I
help you?”
“Anne!
Hey, it’s George!” Thankfully it was just a friend from church.
She knew she could keep him on the phone faking a business conversation
for as long as it takes to get rid of the pirate standing in front
of her.
“HI!
How are you?” She nearly pleaded into the phone.
“Hey,
don’t have time to talk, but I just wanted to let you know that
my roommate, Willis, is going to come over to ask you out today.
Just thought you might want a heads up! Be good to him. Hasta!”
Click. George was gone.
She
slowly looked up at hand-kissing pirate in front of me. Was he
George’s roommate?
“Was
that George?” he asked.
“How
did you know?” she inquired in turn.
“I
could hear him.”
“Oh.”
That simple syllable was all she could get out of her mouth.
So, his name was Willis. She still didn’t know him from the man
in the moon.
“Well,
my fair lady, how do you feel about opera?” Willis asked.
“Um,
the opera is nice, I guess. Depends on the opera,” she said very
quietly and slowly. She wasn’t sure I wanted to do this. And
was honesty always the best policy?
“Madame Butterfly is playing at Wolf Trap Park, and
your acquaintance would be quite welcome.” He kept speaking as
if he were re-writing a Shakespeare play.
Annie
had never been to an opera, and Wolf Trap Park happened to be
one of her favorite places to go see a show. It is an outdoor
amphitheatre, where the stage is covered, but the audience sits
on a hill. It was a popular practice to bring a picnic and eat
while watching a concert and woo a date. It is romanced personified.
Well, it couldn’t be that bad — how bad could a night at the opera
at Wolf Trap be? I could do that. Besides, he knows George.
He must be okay!
“George
will be coming with us, along with his own lady friend for the
evening,” Willis continued.
“Okay,
that sounds nice. I can do that,” she said gamely.
“Delightful,
my darling. I shall call on you at 5:00 p.m. and not a moment
sooner.” Willis bowed gallantly, and backed out of the lobby,
still wearing his pirate headdress. And with him went her daydream
of a mysterious stranger appearing out of the blue and whisking
her off into the sunset. Goal #7 on her list: get wooed by a
complete stranger. Check!
The Romantic Single Life is Just
Not What It Used to Be
The
day that I realized I was “single” (because who are we kidding?
I never planned on being single) I realized that I was
going to need a plan to be a cool single. I was going to have
big goals, and dreams, and a plan. About ten minutes later I
burned dinner, and there went the big goal of not being the type
of single that eats Lean Cuisine in front of the TV, and instead
actually makes dinner with fresh vegetables. Actually, there
was probably no hope for that goal. But it was about that time
that I realized that single life was anything but predictable.
If it were, Mr. Right would have stepped into my life approximately
4 years and 6 days ago, but who’s counting?
I
think it was halfway down the Alps, still smelling the mountain
goat poop (who knew that stuff could smell so bad?), that I realized
the best memories in life are the ones you just enjoy, without
over-planning them. Memories are only as fun as you want to remember
them. Climbing a mountain was fun, but the video of my anything
but graceful fall was funnier. Single life can be fun, if you
let it. IF every memory you make is tainted by “but I only did
it because I wasn’t married.” Or, “I can’t take that trip yet,
I’m saving it for my honeymoon,” your life will never be as fun
and exciting as it could have been.
So
seize the day! Make some memories! Learn to laugh! Have some
fun! Go out and start [attempting] to live out some of your dreams!!
You’ll never know what you will find!!
This
message brought to you by the happy memories of Erin and Juli,
the letters C and M, and the number 30.
Feel
free to send in your best memories gone awry (but only if they
have a happy twist) to erinandjuli@meridianmagazine.com.
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