Trusting My Instincts

A few weekends back, I was supposed to go to the Renaissance Fair with Mamastep, but I woke up that morning with a very bad cold and spent the entire weekend in bed. Bummer! I had really been looking forward to it, but for some reason when we rescheduled the trip for yesterday, I kept having an overwhelming feeling that I wasn’t supposed to go that day. Not sure Mamastep was too happy with me, pulling out at the last minute – TWICE – and the second time for no particular reason. Not sure where that feeling came from, but considering the day I had instead, maybe I should have gone to the Renaissance Fair!

The night before I went swimming at the health club. Around 11:00 a family came into the lap pool: Mom, Dad, school-aged kid, and preschool kid. OK, first of all, what is a preschool kid going to do in the lap pool?? (Answer: hang out in the hot tub, which has a big sign saying “NO children under six allowed.”) Secondly, why is this kid up at that hour?? The next morning I got up early anyway, to go to the ultra-early Latin Mass at our church in order to get done in time to meet Mamastep and her friend, but I could not shake the feeling that I shouldn’t go. So I went to my usual Mass and sang in the choir, and the only bad things were the usual, like two groups going to different restaurants for brunch and I had to choose between them, but that is an ongoing issue. Also, Semper Fi’s dad had died during the past week.

It was a beautiful day, and some of my cooler coworkers were having a cookout at the lakeside park where we always rent boats, so Richard Bonomo and I headed over to join them. Some of them had brought their own boats, and others were renting, so Rich and I rented the catamaran. We sailed off jauntily, waving to my coworkers, and it was a perfect day as we skipped across the lake, getting splashed by the surprisingly warm water. Then disaster struck: Rich tried to tack but we got stuck in irons and drifted into the weeds near the edge of the lake. I paddled furiously with the oar we had thought to bring as Rich wrestled with the weeds tangled around the rudders and tried to get the sail to fill with wind, but we could not make any progress. Finally a guy from the boat rental place came to rescue us with a motor boat. He shooed us into the boat, took down the cat’s sail, and tied it to the back of the motor boat, so we returned to the dock like that… in front of my work peeps! (At least they were the cool ones.) We have never had to be rescued before, so it figures the one time we do would be in front of an audience. The rental guy said he was sick of rescuing the cat, so he was selling it for $600 at the end of the season. Rich is sorely tempted, so I propose that we start a boat fund for him. Still, it was a beautiful day, and 15 fantastic minutes of sailing, even if we had to pay for a full hour PLUS the rescue fee. I still can’t help wondering why I wasn’t meant to go to the Renaissance Fair, but maybe I will never know. Hardingfele always asks if I avoid accidents when I do things because of these feelings, and I say no, I never hear of anything.

Famous Hat