Random or not?
So Juniper has a new friend this year. We have heard nothing but C this and C that, and C and I want to hang out, and can I go for ice cream with her and her dad?
As any nosy (read: PARANOID AS ALL HAYLL) parent would do, I naturally inquired as to the whereabouts of the mother. This was when I learned that C’s mother died when she was 8 (which would make it about three years ago).
Cue me immediately falling into a vat of sympathy ooze. Also cue me suddenly having an “ah-ha” moment over the intensity of their friendship*.
Anyway, it’s really neither here nor there, except in the context that C is being raised by her dad. They recently moved to the city from a province over. We met him last night.
As we’re chatting, my husband asks (and this is strange enough, because he really doesn’t ask) “What do you do for a living.”
Can you imagine my shock when he informed us he was a writer? A FICTION writer? A PUBLISHED fiction writer? Who is currently acting as the writer in residence for a local organization?
Funniest part? Buddy gave me a huge grin when he said it, causing him to (of course) ask what that was all about. So I ended up mentioning that I write a serial for an online publication.
First thing he said (and raccoonbonapart, this is for you) "Oh, like Dickens!"
It’s like someone walked in *carrying my dream job* on their person. I wanted a piece of that like a sugar addict wants a Krispy Kreme. It’s amazing he didn’t leave pantsed, fleeced and with a sudden occupation at a corporation.
Anyway, an incredibly sweet man, who just seems to marvel at the wonders of humanity, most particularly, the wild and wooly behavior of young ladies. His daughter was almost entirely silent, but with a shy smile and big, glowing eyes.
The rest of the night, Buddy and I would randomly turn to each other and muse about it. So utterly random, to have someone with your dream job just randomly show up at your door for utterly unrelated reasons.
*Not to say that that’s the only reason - just that not having a present mother is gonna shape you some.
As any nosy (read: PARANOID AS ALL HAYLL) parent would do, I naturally inquired as to the whereabouts of the mother. This was when I learned that C’s mother died when she was 8 (which would make it about three years ago).
Cue me immediately falling into a vat of sympathy ooze. Also cue me suddenly having an “ah-ha” moment over the intensity of their friendship*.
Anyway, it’s really neither here nor there, except in the context that C is being raised by her dad. They recently moved to the city from a province over. We met him last night.
As we’re chatting, my husband asks (and this is strange enough, because he really doesn’t ask) “What do you do for a living.”
Can you imagine my shock when he informed us he was a writer? A FICTION writer? A PUBLISHED fiction writer? Who is currently acting as the writer in residence for a local organization?
Funniest part? Buddy gave me a huge grin when he said it, causing him to (of course) ask what that was all about. So I ended up mentioning that I write a serial for an online publication.
First thing he said (and raccoonbonapart, this is for you) "Oh, like Dickens!"
It’s like someone walked in *carrying my dream job* on their person. I wanted a piece of that like a sugar addict wants a Krispy Kreme. It’s amazing he didn’t leave pantsed, fleeced and with a sudden occupation at a corporation.
Anyway, an incredibly sweet man, who just seems to marvel at the wonders of humanity, most particularly, the wild and wooly behavior of young ladies. His daughter was almost entirely silent, but with a shy smile and big, glowing eyes.
The rest of the night, Buddy and I would randomly turn to each other and muse about it. So utterly random, to have someone with your dream job just randomly show up at your door for utterly unrelated reasons.
*Not to say that that’s the only reason - just that not having a present mother is gonna shape you some.