What if?

Do you play the “what if …” game? 

I started playing “what if” awhile ago.  I mentioned in an email to a friend that I wondered what would have been different if I’d gone to graduate school.  I have wondered that off and on, although not all that seriously as I don’t regret the decision I made to not go. 

But then I started thinking more about “what if?” –  what if I’d made this decision instead of that; what if I’d moved there instead of here; what if I’d turned down that invitation; what if … any number of decisions I’ve made through the years.  There are hundreds of decisions – large and small – that have shaped my life. 

I found it amusing that shortly after I started my own little game of “what if”, the topic showed up in a comic strip I enjoy – Pickles.  Both Earl and Opal have started their own games of “what if”, with interesting results. 

It’s hard not to play “what if” – I think we all wonder from time to time what might be different in our lives if we’d made one different decision.  Or would our lives be different?  Is it fate that determines how our lives unfold – in which case no decision we make will affect the outcome.  Or do we get where we are because of a combination of our choices and happenstance?  I tend to come down on the side of choices and happenstance, but sometimes that’s not so comforting. 

Because what often goes along with the “what if” game is the “I regret” game.  This is the dangerous game.  Playing “I regret” has at some points in my life led me – and others I know – to be seriously unhappy with their present reality. Regret can’t change the past, so playing the game seems always to end in a bad place.  It’s a game I hope I’ve left well in the past, although it sometimes beckons in the midst of “what if”. 

I enjoy a good game of “what if”, but it’s also nice to put it away on the shelf and enjoy where my decisions have brought me – assuredly a different place than if I’d made different decisions, but a good place all the same.

It all sounded so good in the ad ...

We are away at a rented cottage for a week's vacation with the kid.  It's been a long time since we all vacationed together and we're having a great time.    And thank goodness we're having such a good time, because if we weren't, there would be lots to complain about with our accommodation.

Like a lot of people, we found our cottage online, through what we have known to be a reputable website.  The website made clear the cottages aren't on the water, but across from the lake.  There is a nice beach and the water is great for swimming.  There's a heated pool, wifi available in the office, satellite tv in every cottage, all the mod cons - all we had to bring were our clothes and food.

Sort of.  As it turns out, the lake is across the road and you get to the beach by walking through trees on a mulch path, until you hit the many, many stairs that take you down to a deck above the waterline.  There is a tiny strip of grass and sand that could, if you use your imagination, be considered a beach.  After you walk over many small rocks at the edge of the water, you get to the mud-and-rock bottomed lake, where you'd better swim if you don't like mud oozing between your toes and underwater plants grabbing at your legs. 

The rest is all true enough as well - I'm sure the pool has a heater but I'm not sure the heater is being used.  There's no one on site through the week, so there's also a lovely accumulation of bugs - dead and alive - floating on the top.  The wifi in the office works - sometimes.  The satellite tv works - sometimes.  Mod cons?  Well, you guess at how modern they are.

But you know what?  It doesn't really matter all that much.  We are together as a family, we are having a good time anyway and we'll have lots of stories from this place.   This place is really giving us a break from the ordinary.

The new menace on the roads

Morning walks have changed.  It’s now dark at just after 5:30 when I head out.  The morning sounds are different than they were just a few short weeks ago – fewer birds are singing and the sounds from the bushes are more ominous (rummaging squirrels?  lurking coyotes?  frightened rabbits?).  Everything is just that much less friendly because of the darkness, and this is what I will face from now until late next spring. 

The darkness makes morning sounds seem louder – it’s like sound carries further and becomes amplified.  That first morning chirp could be coming from anywhere.  Train wheels on the tracks are louder.  If the wind is coming from the right direction, cars noises from the highway are louder, too. 

What’s not louder, though, is the new menace on the roads – electric or hybrid cars and bikes.  They silently come out of nowhere and glide past without a sound.  I am so used to hearing vehicles approach that I barely look when I cross the road during my early morning walks.  Until yesterday, that is, when I almost stepped out in front of an electric bike.  That thing made no sound at all as it approached and it was a last-second, out-of-habit glance that saved me from putting a foot out onto the road. 

I know I should have been more attentive and more careful about looking before I crossed the road, but honestly, you should be able to hear these things.  Hybrid vehicles are the same – they can approach without you knowing it.  As wonderful an invention as they are, they are making the streets less safe for pedestrians who assume they will hear a car or bike approaching.  They are a menace, I tell you! 

 

So now on my morning walk, I have to watch for skunks, coyotes and electric or hybrid vehicles.  What’s next, I wonder.

 

A fleeting encounter

I had an interesting experience with a total stranger yesterday.   

We were both in line at the grocery store and watched as the woman in front of us proceeded to put about 13 or 14 items on the belt in the express checkout line.  You have to understand that there’s a sign that practically screams “10 items or less” just below the big “Express Line” sign – there’s no way you can miss it. 

I noticed the woman in front of me look away with a grimace, and I quietly said to her, “you’re counting items, aren’t you?”  She looked at me and smiled and nodded and then we both started to laugh – we were both guilty of judging the woman in front of us.  And if we hadn’t laughed, we might have started a very different conversation. 

Instead of talking about how inconsiderate the woman was, we talked instead about our own experiences of being caught in the express line with more the allowable number of items – the times we’ve been in a rush and automatically headed to that line; of the time I was told by the express checkout clerk with no customers to bring my full cart through because she wasn’t busy, and then finding six angry people when I looked behind me; of how great the clerks  were and how much we like the store and how we discovered it after moving to the neighbourhood.  And we talked more, finding that every time we mentioned something new, the other had the same experience or was in a similar circumstance.  It was like meeting a new best friend.  And it all took place in about five minutes. 

You can never tell when or where you’ll meet someone you connect with.  I don’t expect I’ll see her again and even if I do, we won’t be best friends and we won’t arrange to meet for coffee.  We are strangers who shared an experience, a bit of conversation and a bit of ourselves.  It was a much nicer way to spend the time than glaring at the woman with too many items for the checkout.

A mid-year's resolution

A few years ago, I received daily emails with a “mosaic of the day”.  A mosaic artist was inspired by another artist's fundraising project – painting something small every day and offering it for sale online, with all proceeds going to a particular charity.  The mosaic artist liked the idea and did the same in mosaics and she produced some beautiful works.  Unfortunately, she was interrupted so the daily emails stopped and then I changed email addresses and I’ve never seen another one since. 

Then just this past spring, I heard a speaker at conference talk about his daily blogs.  He made himself write something every day even though he often had nothing to talk about.  His secret?  He used a random word generator to give him a word, and then he’d write something about it and try to relate or connect it to something people might be interested in.  (I tried a random word generator a few weeks ago – the word given to me was “cheerlessness” …hardly the topic for a sporadic blogger to write about.)  The point that most stayed with me was the regularity of his posts. 

The obvious thread here is that I was impressed with the commitment these two people showed when they produced something every day, no matter how difficult it proved to be.  

And that’s how I wanted to approach this blog this summer - I (privately but hopefully) resolved to write something here every day.  Well, so much for that.  And it’s probably just as well because I would have been obligated to write about cheerlessness when I had nothing to write about.  I’m pretty sure that would have been a waste of everyone’s time – mine for writing it and yours for reading it.   

So I make this resolution instead:  I resolve to write something once a week.  Something worth my time and your time.  Maybe if I make this commitment in writing, it’ll actually stick. 

I’ll see you back here next week.

The things you see when you don't have your camera

Okay, this is getting ridiculous – it’s already close to the end of April and I haven’t posted anything here since February.  It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say; it’s just … just … excuses, I suppose.

I’m happy to see that it’s finally getting light again as I do my daily morning walk – walking around in the dark is just so uninspiring.  But now the birds are singing, the early morning sky is gorgeous hues of blue and pink and purple and orange and I feel more energized by the time I get home.

I wish I would remember to take my camera or phone with me on these morning walks – I have seen some skies I would like to capture so I can translate them into stained glass – I can already imagine the glass I would use.  This is a real step forward for me – I have done virtually no stained glass since I left the studio four years ago, and I’m itching to get back into it again.

The camera would come in handy for other things, too.  I had a good look at Ralph the coyote (or a friend or relative of Ralph’s) the other morning – he is looking really good.  I hadn’t seen him for a long time.  I’ve sighted a different coyote – one which is less healthy-looking, to the point that I’ve wondered if he or she is ill – once or twice, but that’s been it.  I could have had a really good picture of Ralph that morning.

[As an aside, I saw a documentary on CBC’s The Nature of Things awhile ago, and it was about the Coywolf – a cross between a coyote and a wolf.  As strange as that sounds, the footage they have and the descriptions they gave are very similar to what I’ve seen of Ralph and his pals.  Seems coywolves are very urban animals and have very wide territories.  If you are interested, here’s the link to the video (sorry – the video is available only in Canada, at least on this website.)]

There’s been one other occasion when I would have liked to have had a camera, but I don’t think I’d have been able to use it.  As I rounded a corner, I spied a woman with a small dog on a leash.  In the hand not gripping the leash was a long wooden pole.  It immediately reminded me of the phrase “walk softly and carry a big stick” (although I just found out from googling the phrase that it’s actually “speak softly and carry a big stick” – it’s a quote from Teddy Roosevelt.) 

Anyway, it struck me as very comical.  We stopped to chat and I found out that she took the large pole with her to help chase away the coyotes – she has run across two of them together and she fears for her little dog’s well-being when they are around.  At least a pole will give her some (literal) clout. Not at all a comical situation, but you had to see it.

Pretty soon it will be light when I leave the house, and a little warmer, and morning walks will be something I look forward to again.  It is a pretty nice way to start the day, and you never know what you will see.

 

Last vestiges of Christmas

There is usually some Christmas ornament or decoration that gets overlooked when we are cleaning up after Christmas.  This year we were pretty thorough and went through the house, room by room, and were certain that nothing seasonal was still hanging around.   

I know we’re not the only ones who miss these things – we were recently at my brother’s house and there, hanging from the dining room light fixture, were small Christmas balls and over there, behind the couch, was a tall glass jar of sparkly Christmas ornaments.   

Turns out we weren’t so thorough ourselves.  Do you know what I found the other day?  On our front door still hangs the Christmas bow I had specially made for the door knocker and on the door from the back deck into the garage hangs the swag of (now not-so-) fresh greens I happily hung there over two months ago.   

How could I have missed these things – they aren't small and I see them every day.  Now I’m going to have to go around the house again and try to see with a fresh eye if there’s anything else I missed.