Many years ago, my great-grandmother gave me a large, neatly wrapped present for the holidays. Eager to see what she had gotten me, I ripped it apart to find an assortment of little, pink objects (minis) from paper, to mirror, to treasure chest lock and key. I thought it was the best present EVER. My fondness for miniature things has grown with me throughout the years: the Barbie corvette, the porcelain china set, figurines, and a set of color pencils that aren’t any bigger than half-a-thumb. I loved the attention to detail paid on these small replicas that could fit endless dollhouses. It’s much the same, I would imagine, that a train set enthusiast has with his hobby; it is a smaller version of life. The more realistic, the better. The more detailed, the more enchanting. You can create your own world that’s controllable. The trees don’t get lined on the street, for example, unless your hand places it there. But, it doesn’t have to begin and end with replicas. I also love the little things about my world around me. People, faces, gestures. The little things that people say to make you feel good: You look great today! Did you lose weight? Or, the little things that people do: Open the door for you, smile, say ‘hello’.
Which brings me to reason behind this post…
Because I am a sincere lover in little things and a fine Catholic, I often found big things really daunting. It could be anything from a test to a job interview. It is when I feel the lowest or that life has managed to put a wrecking ball in my plans, that the little things matter so much to me. For me, it is a sign from up above that I’m going to be okay. That may sound corny, but have you been reading my blog? Well, I’m corny okay? I’m just going to be corny, so…DEAL. I’ve already written about my pennies from heaven before, but imagine my surprise given my recent experience. Calm down. I’m gonna tell you…I promise. Gah!
Suzie Orman, fellow Goddess of Finances, has always directed money savers never to play the lotto. However, Suzie never mentioned anything about peer pressure and feeling honored to be included in a group and so on. So, feeling warm and fuzzy that I was being included into a very small selective office pool, I took the bait. It cost me 10 bucks. I really didn’t have it to give away but felt it my duty to put my money on this BIG LOTTO of like, $365 million or something. Who could pass up this opportunity even if there are sickening odds like: 1,300,000,000,000,0000 : 1 ? I had to play to be one of the gang. It was akin to a group hug in a commune in the 60’s, man! (Had to do it) Anyway, I guess you all know by now that we lost. Oh, and yeah, I personally lost $10. Ugh!
Here’s the conversation I had with myself when I suddenly realized I didn’t have enough money to buy lunch that day:
STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! Oh, what an idiot you are, MeMa. Good going. You should’ve listened to Suzie Orman. Didn’t she say this would happen? Of course she did. She manages Oprah’s money. That’s right, Winfrey’s billion dollar empire. How’s she do that? SHE DOESN’T PLAY THE LOTTO!!! Oh. My. Gosh. You are such an idiot! You are the biggest jerk in the world…
*ahem*
I sat in my office for about a half hour pondering the ridiculousness of my crazy idiocy and starving. Just then, a fellow co-worker stopped at my desk and dropped a sandwich on my desk mumbling something about not being that hungry and…I was shocked. Stupidity + Hunger + Depression = Good Eats. In the best sentiment that I could muster at the time, I halfheartedly said, ‘thanks’ to the co-worker as he walked away briskly. Later, he’d stop by and offer a quick comment: It was gooood, right? and with the crumbs still strewn all over the top of my desk I replied, ‘Yeah!’ So the day went on like this. I needed to buy a book of stamps but the machine on our floor was out of order. After lunch, I returned to my desk to find some manila envelopes in my in-box with perfectly, unstamped postage. Needless to say, my day began to take a turn in little ways.
That night, I gaveCarlos a rundown of my odd good fortune. I told him about the sandwich and the postage stamps and he laughed. “Babe, I can’t believe you. When you said that you had big news to tell me, I thought it was some incredible stroke of luck you had. I was expecting to hear about some great big thing and you’re gushing about a few postage stamps and a sandwich! That’s why I love you, y’know.” It was getting late and I knew that I had to take the dogs out, but Lady didn’t want to go. It was cold, so I bundled myself up real good and got Bear ready. He was happy to go out with me alone, but me? I was miserable. I kept thinking that maybe Carlos was right. All that other stuff could just be a coincidence. I still didn’t know how I was going to afford bus fare the following week to get to work. As I walked, my feet felt like lead and Bear kept insisting to walk down a street I hate to walk him on. Still, if you try to fight too long with this St. Bernard, you’re sure to lose. “Fine, fine!” I yelled into the cold as he lunged and raced forward, forcing me into a jog. “Bear! Bear!” I yelled as he ran down that block. He stopped on the corner and I followed him up as he sniffed at some front yards. I kept my eye on the ground like I always do and noticed something there. Neatly folded on the ground waved a 10 dollar bill. I picked it up and thanked God (for the little things).
How do you like that, Suzie Orman?
