Catnapped and Doggone
What would Sara do that I wouldn’t? Should we start with the dirty weekend that ended up with a stranger-husband and a quickie wedding? Do we have to discuss that little bigamy mix-up? Felony assault by computer keyboard? Okay, that would needs to go on the maybe list. What can I say? Wireless technology lends itself to the occasional frustrated hurl with or without human targets in the cross hairs.
We have plenty in common and plenty of differences on the surface. We share bad hair, a hatred of girl shoe and smart mouths. Sara is more politically correct (it’s a relative thing, neither one of us is going to be invited on FOX News anytime soon) and she’s slower with a sarcastic retort than I am. I’ve got a more impressive resume. She has a more interesting one. Sara is attracted to a nice, normal guy. Okay, we’ll call that one a difference.
Superficialities aside, Sara is simply fearless in a way I’m not. It may be because she’s younger than me or more open minded than me or more confident than me. After all, she’s a big believer that things will work out eventually. Maybe she’s a closet Buddhist who believes in karma but whatever the reasons, she’s had plenty of reinforcement for being a big risk taker. The husband turns out to be a good guy not an ax-murderer. The simultaneous husband loves her and a good scandal. And she’s never shown up on the doorstep of anyone with a keyboard in hand unless they deserved it.
In contrast, I wish I’d never heard of a cost benefit analysis. I pro vs. con decisions to death. I have plans A – Z on flip cards trying to anticipate every contingency. I spend so much time in planning, execution sometimes comes at a distant time and place. Often, it comes after I’m locked into a strategy. For example, I’ve grown into the big girl’s salary. Taking a big chance to pursue a crazy dream, which Sara would do in a heartbeat, comes at a precipitious price for me. It’s not that I can’t. It’s just that I have to plan and plot and worry myself gray before I can attempt the circus leap. Sara was born for Barnum and Bailey’s.
I sound like I wish I could be more like her and maybe I do. I think we all write some version of our best selves whether protagonist or antagonist. It’s tempting to answer hypothetical questions as if we actually know the answers. We can’t, of course, until the moment actually, factually arises. I imagine myself as the fearless heroine, tilting at windmills without frustration or consequence dulling my appetite for the battle. The real me carries more scars. I hesitate because happily ever after aren’t always the last three words for the real stories. By the same token, cast as a villain, I’d like to think I would get away with it instead of ending up on an episode of stupid criminals. But you never know until they clamp the cuffs on you. Or so I’ve heard. Sara would know.
Thanks for reading.