"What's your personal Dumb Little Victory?"
... so asked the radio hosts who live in my dashboard.
They illustrated ...
"Is there a light you try to make daily?
Having exact change for something?"
I began to nod.
Years ago my daily commute took me right past the end of Tampa International's runway, and I'd race to 'beat' approaching aircraft to the gore point.
Isn't that silly?
Naturally, I lost more times than not - but there were a few fist-pump moments.
More recently -
... My workplace boasts plenty of free parking spaces, but I'm partial to one in particular. (mine!)
... I auto-gravitate to the far southwest seat at the conference table each Wednesday morning. (mine!)
And here's the FACE I probably wear if either is occupied when I get there.
Of course, there's never been reserved parking or seating at my workplace, or our church's auditorium for that matter - but I'm such a creature of habit.
Even before hearing that radio prompt, I had cause to chuckle at my similarity to another's misfortune:
A few months back, DH and I'd taken a day trip to see a friend perform at a local casino showroom. We'd not been seated more than 5 minutes when there comes this rat-a-tat on my shoulder and looked up to see an elderly soul glaring at me, "Those are our seats!"
Um, all-righty then .... be easy, now .... we'll just move over there.
(Later someone observed we were there first, but these old gals are regulars and favor that area.)
And then it happened.
Last week it seemed there were no more little victories to be had:
I was uncharacteristically late - then discovered my car wouldn't start. Sticking my head back in the bedroom, "The battery's dead; I'm taking your truck."
.... Only to find myself behind every slow-moving, oversize vehicle on the road.
Just as I was working my way up an epic pity party, I became witness to one of the most spectacular sunrises I've seen in years. The kind that bring tears to your eyes.
You know, I wasn't late after all. And "my" parking space was right there waiting -- with a bright shiny penny sitting face-up when I opened the door.
I don't know. But I suspect these little "dumb little victories" are like seeing God smile and wink. It doesn't take much; I just have to remember to look for the wink.
Wishing you scads of 'Dumb Little Victories'
.... and (of course) hugs from Phoenix,
Myra
