Control Freak Loose in the Parking Garage

This is the most amazing summer of my life. Not just because I'm doing whatever the hell I want. Oh, who am I kidding, that is EXACTLY why this summer kicks ass. I have just a little bit of control back (and that is a total boon for a control freak like me). Maybe I took it to the extreme today when a street solicitor downtown shoved a pamphlet at me, saying, "You need to read this" - my response, "I don't HAVE to do anything." They obviously have not gotten the memo.

I went in to 'the city' to meet a long-time friend for lunch today. She lives an hour north of town, I live an hour south of town. We set a date to meet - you guessed it - right smack in the middle of downtown. Being that I've never been to this part of the city before, I pull into the first parking garage that was in the vicinity of where my GPS was nagging me in that condescending, yet politely British, way, "You have reached your destination. Turn around as soon as possible. Turn around now. Turn around or you will die!" NOTE: Just for giggles, sometimes I keep taking wrong turns on purpose to see if she'll (yes, she's a 'she') explode from having to recalculate the route every 100 yards. Yes, I AM that girl.

My friend calls as I'm locking my vehicle and making a note of the parking level, section, color, letter, zoo animal, whatever. As I'm telling her I'll be surfacing in her vicinity in 5 minutes, the parking garage grid coordinates have already left my brain.

We had a nice lunch outside, harassed a few waiters, praising them for comfortable chairs that don't inflict "waffle ass" on our backsides like most outside venues, and figured out how to get parking validated NEXT time, because I hosed it this time. We walked around for a while and when it was time to go she headed to her savvy street-level parking locale. I attempt to social engineer everyone on my way to the elevator (except for the Green Peace solicitors) into validating my parking. Still no joy.

Then it hits me. I'm standing there looking at the elevator buttons, head tilted to the side, like a dog would look if someone had moved his food bowl. No freaking clue what level I'm on. So I guess. I descend. I step out of the elevator, do a lap around the lot pushing my remote. Sh**. Wrong level. I get back in the elevator and repeat this process two more times. Up one level (exit, lap, click, damn). Down two more levels (you get the picture). Bingo.

Maybe sometimes it's best no one (except the security cameras) is witnessing my buffoonery. But I obviously have no issues sharing it with my friends. There seems to be enough present in my life to go around, so what the hell. I think the more we laugh, the more alive we are.

I've laughed a lot this summer - and have never felt more alive - or grateful. Or, as I explained to my friend today, more excited about whatever lies ahead. Ironic that this control freak has no solid plan for my life after June of next year. And after spending 25 years worrying about where I would end up, I'm realizing that letting go? It's not the end. It's the beginning.

Now - off to meet another friend for sunshine, live music, and beer.

Peace, love, and all things gaining some control, while letting more of it go.