Confession

Okay, deep breath, here we go..I mailed something for a stranger today. I can almost hear the collective gasp, the thought--how could she? Well, it started innocently enough. I was crossing the street to my car with a flat rate package under my arm, when an approaching car slowed, and then stopped. The window rolled down and a middle-aged woman leaned out. "Do you work for the Post Office?" she asked. "No," I responded, "I am just on my way to the Post Office." "Well in that case," she said, "would you mind mailing something for me?"

I hesitated. "You mean like a letter?"

"Some birthday cards."

"Well...okay."

She pulled them from her dash and handed me three Hallmark-like envelopes, waved, and cheerily sped off.

I looked at them--her return address from two blocks from my house and one of the cards was going to a Very Reverend somebody in Milwaukee. I took them to the Post Office. I mailed them.

What kind of person entrusts their mail to a total stranger? Well, Constance somebody from down the street. What kind of person accepts mail from a stranger? Apparently me.

What does this mean? Well, I think it means that the terrorists haven't won. Unless they have. In which case, I know nothing.

Carry-Out

I really like good food, and I have come to realize that, for me, it is often a reward after a difficult day...or week..or month. I am working with a dietician and I am currently confounding her with yoyo swings of gain and loss. She refers to me as her "wild card." Today I I facetiously brought up the idea of "mindful eating" with the idea that one watches what one eats and then lets those thoughts go with return to the breath. In other words, I am watching myself eat peanut M and M's and the observation is neutral as long as I continue to breathe. She embraced the concept and actually gave it substance with further exploration. This is why I continue to see her--she puts positive spin on my sarcastic output.

But back to the reward aspect of this. I have had a hellish week in many respects, doing what I least like to do--making people unhappy (even if I am absolutely correct in my methods and conclusions). My husband was out playing cards tonight and I was on my own for dinner, so I went to a restaurant I love, that he is lukewarm about. I usually get carry-out there and I don't always tip, though I was feeling a bit guilty about that. I decided I would tip tonight, just because I like the owner as well as the food.

I was glad to see that it was so busy that I had to sit on a chair in the hall, rather than at a table,while I waited for my chicken shwarma. Teresa, the owner, brought it out to me there. When I reminded her that I still needed to pay, she told me that she was buying me dinner for being a loyal customer for the past six years. I was stunned. She has nothing to gain from this gesture because I am already a loyal customer and business is clearly booming. This was reward for the business I had already provided, rather that anything I might provide in the future. The opposite of lobbying, and completely unexpected. What a lovely gesture and one that put the rest of my week in perspective.

And the chicken shwarma? Delicious, as always. Thank you Teresa!

Coincidence

I am sure there are many ways to describe and quantify coincidence. There are those things that happen when we expect them to--that may be coincidence, but it may also be that the reason we expect them to happen is that subconsciously we know they are likely to. So, not so much coincidence as the result of subconscious analysis. Then there are the small world, six degrees of separation stories that I love to collect. Finally, there is probability and coincidence from the mathematical standpoint. What are the odds that your favorite number coincidentally turns out to the same number the lottery picks as a winner?

I think we are talking about the third category here. Last Saturday, we got a somewhat agitated phone call from an attorney who works at the Dept. of Agriculture, Trade, and Consumer Protection. She apologized for not calling back sooner, but she had been tailgating at the football game and had her phone off. Nevertheless, a call on Saturday from my husband, the Risk Manager at DATCP, could mean only one thing: activation of the emergency phone tree.

There was only one problem. He hadn't called her. In fact, we hadn't called anyone all morning. Nevertheless, she was certain. Caller ID gave his name and the call back number was certainly our home number. There was a garbled message, something about "Did you turn off the phone?" Suddenly the light dawned. Tom's brother had stopped by earlier in the day and asked to use the phone before he left. He had to make a call about his daughter, but he misdialed, hung up, and dialed again.

We live in a metro area of 350,000 and the number of people who can be reached by calling a local number is certainly greater than that. Here is a story problem for all of you mathematicians out there. What are the chances that a wrong number would reach a person who both recognized the name on the caller ID AND had a potentially legitimate reason for getting such a call on a Saturday?

It is enough to make me want to buy a lottery ticket.