Inauspicious Auspicious Beginnings

evening light

Am I the only one who puts way too much weight on auspicious beginnings? Like try and foresee and plan for all contingencies and bring extra changes of clothes and lots of snacks and leave like four hours early so that when the moment of the beginning arrives you’re there, on time, unruffled, and preferably not sweaty and with great hair.

I might re-think that method because I think it might be erroneous.

Let me expound.

(Did you think I was going to do anything else? Expounding is like, one of my favorite things. P.S. why is impound not the opposite of expound? Filing away for further consideration.)

We were in the car on the way to our New Mexico/West Texas interview extravaganza and I was a tiny bit of a wreck. We’d never left the boys overnight much less for four nights, and I left literally five single-spaced pages behind of the boys’ schedules, a glossary so that the grandparents could decode some of Wacey’s words (because “fwuh” means “movie” and “ash” means “snack”), directions to the nearest Urgent Care and instructions (with pictures!) about how to put the infant carrier into the double stroller (hi, my name is Cassidy and I’m a Type-A Over Planner, nice to meet you). I wasn’t worried about their care (we’re blessed with two great sets of grandparents!) but I was worried that something would happen and we’d be out of cell range like a llama would come flying out of the sky or there would be a power outage and they’d run out of cold milk or some other such nonsense.

So, you can imagine how I felt when Bert’s dad called while we were driving through rural New Mexico to tell us the horses had gotten out and Bert’s grey horse had cut himself pretty badly. Every time my husband leaves the state of Colorado for New Mexico, the horses get out. What does this mean for our future? I don’t know. Maybe they’ll just..stay in? In New Mexico?

But, in true cowboy fashion, Bert got on the phone and arranged for some help to get the fence fixed, the  horse to headquarters where he could receive good care, and the other horses put back to where they needed to be.

Long story short, I almost made Bert turn the car around when I found out the formula that was supposed to arrive that afternoon to, you know, sustain the life of my infant, was going to take three more days to arrive even though it was less than two hours away. Someone please explain how that works because the gentleman from UPS customer service was flummoxed. My lovely neighbor came to the rescue to save the day, and somewhere around Carrizozo I decided I needed a drink (I drink, like, twice a year so I was real serious about this) since my husband wouldn’t listen to my desperate pleas to turn the car around because my nerves were shot and God was obviously trying to tell us something.

(He was, ps. He was telling us that no matter what happens, we have friends and family who love us and support us and will help us whenever we are in a bind.)

I was pretty certain that all that inauspiciousness was going to lead to a disaster of a trip but you know what? It didn’t.

We went in with an idea of how we’d come out. We were pretty certain that Bert was going to take the job in West Texas and that we’d be packing up and moving twelve hours south.

You guys, we couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s actually super funny now to think back to just two weeks ago when we thought we knew. Oh, what children we were! We’re older and wiser now. Two week will do that. It took about five minutes for us to know that New Mexico felt more like home than we could have ever thought, and it took about, oh, four seconds for us to know that the ranch in West Texas was the very last place we needed to be. We were shocked at how everything lined up perfectly for New Mexico to work and hilariously wrong for us the other job was.

(We likened it to this one time when we had to deliver a bull to the most isolated, strange ranch in Washington state. Not creepy–aside from the house that looked exactly like the Amityville Horror house–but it gave us the most indescribable case of the willies. It felt like being in the Twilight Zone and everything felt…faded. It was weird. Not home. Not good.)

So, I’m pretty sure we just got nicely but boldly told, “Quit trying to make your own damn plans. I got you.” Amen.

But really, can someone explain to me how UPS works?!



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