It's been one of those weeks. You know that kind where you're just bewildered come Friday? I keep thinking, "Wow! I made it through another one! How on earth did that happen?!?!?"?
I did make it. I'm amazed. But my week was dominated by work stuff, which I understand is inadvisable to include in blogdom, only interrupted by an incredibly sad event which I can't really do justice on a blog.
So I'm going to borrow a story from my parents (Vickie and Donnie) instead. Dad told me this story almost two years ago, so I may have forgotten a detail or two.
Let me tell you, first of all, that this story takes place in the land before cell phones. It was back in the days when you had to coordinate and plan things ahead of time, lest you unknowingly eat dinner in the same restaurant at the same time as your spouse thinking you're being stood up. Yes, that really did happen to my mom and dad way back in the days before cell phones. But that's a different story.
In this story my dad is driving home one day along the interstate. He lives in Vermont, so naturally the views out his windshield are trees and mountains and wondrous.Dad's admiring the beauty out his window, maybe thinking about what he might have for dinner. Maybe daydreaming. The view is gorgeous, as always. For whatever reason, I forget why, he pulls over into a rest area. Again, he contemplates the view. In Vermont, even the rest areas are beautiful. Relaxed, he turns to open the door of his car. The side window, however, does not offer the same beautiful vista.
Instead, Dad is shocked to see the face of one of mom's coworkers through the window. "Here's the blood for Vickie!" says the man. He hands a vial of blood to my dazed father and leaves.
In case you're thinking my mother is a vampire or worse, she was actually a scientist in a lab at the time. Still, there was absolutely no way for this man to know my dad would be at the rest area and my mother's only explanation all these years later has been...
Yeah. She never offered any explanation. She's like that sometimes. Oh and happy Halloween by the way.
Introduction to Vermont
Partridge Brook Reflections