And on a lighter note, I am over my annoyance-not at the cop, I am actually more annoyed at THAT whole situation as the day goes on, and am thinking of going to fight the ticket, but the potential problem with THAT is that this is a small town, and I worry about the likelihood of being pulled over even more if I do fight it.  We shall see.  Asshats anyway. 

However, I found a ride for Sam to the rehearsal, and here is the thing.  Here I am kind of stuck in my little hole at the moment, and I call this woman, S.  She is one of the most kind-hearted, sweet women I know, she really is, and she has offered at least a dozen times in the last few years to give Sam rides places if needed, but I have never taken her up on it.  Today, however, I thought I would at least call-her son is also in orchestra, so has to be there as well, so-you know.  What the hell.  And I am talking to this woman and explaining to her what the issue is and can she give Sam a ride there because I can go pick him up, and she said,”Oh, sure, he can just ride the bus home with X and I can make sure they have snacks before we go, and if it is any consolation, this is all very short notice for me, too,” and it hit me that I am asking help from this woman who has CANCER.  God.  She was already a cancer survivor, and two or three months ago was diagnosed with breast cancer in both breasts.  Also, and it IS very odd from what I understand, she has a different type of cancer in each breast-so the problem is finding a treatment that will work on both kinds, and she had a radical double mastectomy, and here I am complaining about a speeding ticket.  This woman has five kids, and a husband, and even now remains one of the most cheerful and content people I know-and she has cancer, and is more than willing to make sure MY son gets a snack and to the rehearsal on time.  I am so humbled, and a little (lot) ashamed of myself for getting all caught up in the fluff.

And that’s the thing about money.  Yes, it is important; boy, is it important.  And no, it doesn’t buy happiness, but when you don’t have enough to have basic needs met on a consistent basis, it is terrible.  Truly terrible.  BUT: in the long run, it really is just fluff.  I don’t mean that in a “I suddenly don’t care about money because I am above that!” kind of way, because that would be a flat lie, and I am also not going to fall into the “you can’t take it with you” trip.  But what I mean is that no amount of money in the world is going to guarantee that life isn’t going to suck ass.  It doesn’t mean that you are immune to any of the problems that could hit any one of us, at any given time.

I am reading this book that a friend of mine gave me in 2000; I know that is when she gave it to me, because she wrote the date in it, and told me that the main character reminded her of me, in the best of ways.  The thing is, this woman, this lovely friend of mine who had it all-the husband, she could stay home with her four absolutely lovely children and her husband adored her and they were happy, well, this woman died at 33 of brain cancer.  And all the money and comfort in the world did not change the outcome for her in any way, shape or form.

Talk about humility.  My problems are so slight in comparison.  Really.  Do things suck right now?  Yep, sure do.  Are they going to suck forever?  Well, I sure hope not.  But in the meantime, they do and I am going to be just fine.  You see, I am not alone anymore.  And in part I mean Steve, because were it not for him I would have been SUNK three months ago, but in myriad other ways, too. I have these people in my life who will listen and not judge, or who will give me a jolt when I need it (thank you, Liz, by the way!) and who simply love me.  Love my kids.  And maybe it isn’t enough on some days, but mostly?  Yeah.  It really is. 

I know that I had a point when I started this, but it seems to have escaped me for the moment.  I just know that I am a million times better that I was, and I know that I am humbled and grateful again, and there you go.  We have that party tonight and I am in a good place to go, too.  Because I know that Steve is a little nervous and uncertain, for a variety of reasons not mine to tell, and my job tonight is to be there for him.  And isn’t that humbling in and of itself?  To get out of self and put your own petty insecurities and worries aside and be the person for someone else to lean on?  Yeah; I can do that.