After packing lunches this morning, I made two meatloaves and heaved them into the oven so they could cook while I had my morning coffee.
Glitzyadventure.com picked up some new followers this week 🙂 Happy face emojis all over the place.
The readers then would say: What is the word of the day?
Well, this time last week (actually, it was daylight, to be exact), I was wandering around the newsroom parking lot, searching for my car key that had somehow worked its way off my key chain .. to who knows where.
For about an hour, I wandered in the wilderness, looking under my car and others as well. A gentlemen noticed this, as I leaned with a sigh on my car, and I feared he thought I was looking to break into people’s cars, although, admittedly, who would do such a thing in dress clothes in a news parking lot, of all places, in broad daylight? But then, that is how a cops reporter’s mind works, because you hear and see just about everything come across your desk.
The guy, dressed in very pressed khakis and an oxford cloth shirt, approached me and said “May I help you?”
“This is my car,” I huffed, totally exasperated at not having a clue as to where my key went.
He smiled and said something to the tune of .. no literally .. you look like you need help.
But of course. I explained to him the great key saga. We looked all over the place. I found a rogue rock (a rock!) in my wheel well. So that was the noise I heard when I was driving.
Later, a colleague used her boundless Triple AAA to call for a locksmith, and after totally disemboweling (is that a word?) my car, there was no key. Yet moments later, one of our editors was leaving for lunch, then suddenly hopped out of his car. “Your key!!” he said.
He had rolled over it.
It was there, in the parking lot, the whole time as I pattered around, vexed at my situation.
The phrase “It was there the whole time” reminds me of my thought of the day: Realizing your untapped potential.
About 11 years ago, a news team took a chance on me, a middle age woman with no college education (only one or two classes at the time), and hired me to do full time news. It was the first job where I sat at my desk thinking to myself, “I feel like I know what I am doing.”
Writing has always been my happy place.
What is funny is that for years, I tried to get my poetry published. My Grandma Ferguson believed in my potential so much that when she turned in my name and my children’s names for our family tree volume (a massive book!), she wrote my occupation as “poet.”
It stunned me when I saw that, years later, after she passed, when the book came to me.
Along my writing journey, I received a lot of rejection letters. I kept one from The White Pelican Review (which shuttered eventually) that said, “good luck getting published.”
It is in each of us, this potential of the great whatever.
This year, I will be 51 years old, and I think to myself, I am just getting started.
I have some friends in mind as I write this, and you know who you are. Don’t doubt yourself, your potential, and whether you will ever reach your goal.
You know, I could not believe that car was on top my key.
Then again, I am glad it was. At least we found it.
Have a good day, all.
It is Wednesday all day long.