I Couldn't Cry Over Spilled Strawberries

Yesterday was kind of rough. Monday, I emailed Dave in Afghanistan. I love that I can do that and he's pretty conscientious about writing back because he knows what a spazz I can turn into. And, I understand that he's working more hours everyday than I'm usually up and I really appreciate when he takes that extra time to reassure his spazzing mother. Anyway, I didn't hear from him Monday evening although I did have my hopes up. After all it was a holiday and even though he's eight and a half hours (that's right - eight AND a half) ahead of us, he might drop me a line before he finally gets to sleep.

But he didn't. And when I got up yesterday, the first thing I did was check and there wasn't an email. Then I did what all foolish parents do with sons in battle zones. I started checking the internet. Four deaths in Afghanistan but no details until the next of kin is notified. The vague locations they gave were very ominous to me. This is when I start to work myself into a tizzy. I try and try to prove that he couldn't be among the casualties and in so doing usually find facts that make me worry more. I couldn't think about anything else. I prayed and prayed and I knew there were parents and wives and siblings and friends all over the United States praying too.

Then at 3:15, I got an email. And I was so happy and so relieved! Oh my gosh, I can't describe the elation.

Mr. Right got home but had to leave right away for a doctor's appointment. I decided to prepare the two quarts of strawberries that had been waiting for my attention all day. While I pitted them, I thought of my grandparent's strawberries. They raised their own and there were none sweeter or more delicious. These were nice though and it was the delectable smell that reminded me of those I'd enjoyed as a child. Next I sliced them and started crushing them. But my bowl was too small so with one hand I reached for another and knocked a cup off the shelf which hit the side of the strawberry bowl and shattered all over my berries.

So I had to toss them.

And see that cord under the berries? That's the aquarium heater that I blew up when I did my fish tank water exchange about an hour earlier. I had unplugged it for most of the re-fill but I guess I plugged it back in too soon. You should have heard the explosion!

(Don't look at those Entemann's boxes - we had house guests over the weekend.)

Then Mr. Right and I went out to the storage unit to find a pump to use temporarily because our pond pump burned up. Also we wanted to check the box that our very expensive UV light came in, because it quit working and we needed some clues as to why. When it was time to lock up, the padlock absolutely would not close. Now we had to go home, oil it or buy another one, and trek back out there to secure the unit.

Boy, the frustrations! But.... (except for one, small moment when I covered my strawberries with glass instead of sugar) none of it mattered.

Because our son wrote from Afghanistan and four other families wouldn't be hearing from theirs. And that's what they mean when they say, "Don't sweat the small stuff".