First and foremost, I apologize for my deliquency in getting this post up. To be frank, my computer and I are breaking up….soon. The bitch has been anything but reliable as of late, and I can feel it coming. I can’t even talk about it…I’m so upset…let’s commence..and thank you for reading..
Charlotte Grant had a tea party last weekend. One of those old fashioned tea parties where the women and their young daughters arrive fully clad in flowing dresses, larger than life hats, white gloves, and high heeled shoes which sunk into the lawn as you walked, and you knew it was a huge mistake to wear them. We drank Buckingham English Tea (the same stuff the Queen of England serves), dined on cucumber sandwiches, and stuffed our faces full of Raspberry torte after insisting the cucumber sandwiches had done us in. When the Grandma’s left and the tea ran out, we cracked open bottles of champagne. While drinking the champagne, my mind began to wander (as it tends to) and I started thinking about the most fucked up relationship of all. That one relationship that guides our moral compass and dictates how we feel about ourselves and each other. Yeah..that’s the relationship I’m talking about. The Relationship.
Until this weekend, it had been ten years since I had last seen Charlotte’s Grandmother, Grandma Grant, and I saw her for the first time in a decade yesterday. Charlotte’s family is a highly religious bunch. Not in a they belong in a nut house way..just borderline. (And you can say this to Charlotte’s face..she knows.) Since my Grandma Robinson’s biggest piece of advice for me was “When you go to the casino, go all in”, Charlotte’s Grandma’s advice is a little more practical, chock full of biblical knowledge and wisdom. After hugging Grandma Grant yesterday, for some reason, I recalled something she told me years ago which made me start to think.
In my early 20’s, I asked Grandma Grant if she thought God has a sense of humor. I remember she laughed (she has one of those great grandma laughs, all twinkly), gave me a sideways glance, and said “Are you kidding? God has the greatest sense of humor of all. I mean, we’re here aren’t we?” So as I’m drinking champagne, getting plastered on Charlotte’s front lawn, I started wondering..
“Did God think it was funny that day I arrived at work, and for some reason I didn’t want to put on a shirt, so I put my coat on over my bra, and draped my shirt over my arm, and when I walked into the office, was surprised to find we had won a contest, and the higher ups were there, taking pictures of us, and everyone cheered as I walked through the door, and I was stunned thinking about the fact I was in my bra, and my boss knew I had this tendency to not get dressed, so he saw my shirt hanging on my arm, and just shook his head at me because he knew I wasn’t wearing anything under my coat?”
“Did God think it was funny that one and only time I hit a bong and got incredibly paranoid to the point I thought my friend was trying to kill me and ended up running down the hall of his apartment complex screaming he’s trying to kill me, and my friend caught me and threw me in the shower where I promptly puked everywhere?”
“Did God think it was funny that one night where I was so drunk and stumbling I lost my car in the parking garage and called Charlotte crying and crying about not knowing where my car was, and she was saying how was she supposed to know where I parked my car (being just slightly tipsy herself), and I was sobbing “I can’t believe I lost my car, I’m going to get raped out here by myself“, and she was like “no you’re not, you’re fine” and I said “No, I’m not, come get me” and she said “ just keep looking, it’s in the parking garage, I’ll stay on the line with you” where I promptly responded “Oh there it is” and hung up on her?”
“Oh and there was the time I didn’t like this group of girls at a club that were dancing too close to a male friend, so I ordered some beer, shook up the bottles, and sprayed the hell out of those bitches till they broke rank, screaming and running, the clackety clack of their heels sounding dangerously unclackety while slipping around in the beer? I hope God thought that was funny. Because to me, that’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever done.”
“And speaking of the fights we got into, did God think it was funny that time I wasn’t there, but Charlotte Grant cracked this girl in the jaw for touching her mink coat which happened because our other friend, Jean, was talking smack in the womens restroom where she was approached by a drunk chick who tried punching her in the face, but Jean got her first, and smashed the girl with her drinking glass, which prompted the girls friend to grab Charlotte who broke her jaw?” (I don’t make this shit up people, it all happened. Even classy chicks can act like trailer trash every now and then.)
So as I’m recounting my moments of shame and sin (And Charlotte‘s), Grandma Grant broke in again with her godly wisdom and I remembered something else she said to me. “God wants us to succeed. He wants us to do better and achieve more than those before us, and will be there every step of the way to help ensure your success”.
Back then, success meant one thing. Succeeding in my career and making money. As I’ve grown and evolved, life has had this funny way of opening up other arena’s which have been designed to test my abilities to succeed. Arena’s such as relationships, self worth, and Cat/Dog Momminess. Regarding success as a person, I look back on these things that I consider pivotal to have taken place and shaped the direction of my life:
1.) If the cowboy hadn’t broken up with me, I would have never taken my first personal banker job which was the first stepping stone to what my career is today.
2.) If I had decided not to see my psychic, I wouldn’t have broken up with a really nice, if wrong, guy, probably married him, and divorced him by now.
3.) If I had stayed with my addiction addled felon for a fiancé, I would have never realized the amount of strength, love, and respect I do have for myself and my friends/family. I would not have bought this amazing house and probably would not have adopted the love of my life, Charlotte Grace, this 111 lb St. Bernard who lords over my existence and beats my ass daily, but I love every second of it.
4.) And most recently, if I hadn’t have been fired from my dream job that was strangling the life out of me on a daily basis, I wouldn’t have rediscovered this gift for writing which has been allowing me to toss aside the shackles of the past, one bastard at a time.
So to tie this all together, I came to this conclusion. I don’t think God has been impressed by my drunken, naked, stumbling, high as a kite, madder than hell, having to impress the world, rambling blunders as I have been. God knows how impressed with myself I tend to be, and it’s a feeling I get that tends to say “Knock it off, Samantha.” But I don’t think God has been completely upset with me either. If he was, I wouldn’t be blessed with this life. This life that has taken so many wrong turns but has ended up so far with amazing friends, an amazing dog, new career aspects, and a renewed love of writing now coupled with an agenda to entertain and enlighten others. I would have to say Grandma Grant was right. God does want us to succeed, and in how we tend to get there is where the humor lies.