I Had a Plan… Life Laughed

Did I Ever Really Have Control?

It seems I’ve lost control of my life, or if I’m honest, did I ever really have control?

When we were younger, we planned things out. Carefully. Methodically. If you’ve been following my blog, you know that I am a bit of a spreadsheet lady. A spreadsheet for choosing a new house.A four–page spreadsheet for holiday open houses.A spreadsheet for choosing a cat—just kidding. Our cats chose us. We were merely staff.

Still, I’m nowhere near Ernest Cunningham’s Aunt Katherine, who attached a spreadsheet to a family reunion invitation. (1) Not just headcount. She requested allergies, shoe size, steak preference, and license plate number—an invitation with homework.

Back Then I Thought Life Would Get More Predictable - Ha!

Now that I’m older, planning feels like spinning the Wheel of Fortune and hoping I don’t land on Bankrupt.

created by ChatGPT 11-29-25

I planned dinner with friends. One got sick and wound up in the Care Center.

We planned to have friends for our favorite Chicken Piccata, but my hubby fell off a stool installing blinds and landed in the hospital instead. Nothing broken, thankfully—unless you count the table he hit on the way down. He had a bruise the size of Mt. Everest across his back and abdomen.

Broken Table

When we moved to our CCRC, I planned to live in the same apartment until we needed assisted living. Instead, the developers pointed at our building and declared, That one goes. Apparently, the universe had a different architectural vision – same model apartment, but everything slightly different, requiring a redesign of many rooms.

Even the Small Stuff Laughs at My Plans

Take the Great Napkin Project. I spent hours planning how to cut pumpkin-scarecrow fabric so the scarecrow would be perfectly centered when folded. I measured. I stenciled. I positioned the stencil like an artist.

Only after the last one was cut and hemmed did I remember; I fold napkins in thirds, not halves. The scarecrow now peeks around the edge of the fold like Kilroy peeks over the fence. I devised a creative folding workaround. Still, I fantasized the Thanksgiving crowd would marvel at my cute napkins. No one noticed the napkins. But the food was great!

napkins - strategically folded

And Plans Don’t Just Go Wrong at My House

Friends of ours bought a condo in southern Florida—their retirement dream. They invited us for a week. Day two, he was in the hospital with blistering welts. Turns out he’s allergic to no-see-ums. They sold the condo. The no-see-ums won.

Speaking of no-see-ums: I’m writing this on the lanai and something keeps biting my neck. Shouldn’t no-see-ums be asleep at noon? I thought it might be dry skin (in Florida?), or my imagination, until I saw a tiny beige thing fly by my keyboard. So much for screens. I scratched. It smirked.

Our Infamous Pi Day Party That Wasn't

For years we hosted a Pi Day (March 14) extravaganza. In 2020, the day before the party, everything was ready—party supplies, decorations, and pies.

Then came Breaking News: COVID is a pandemic. Avoid people. Stop breathing near each other. Canada will close the border, and maybe even Michigan might follow suit. (Michigan??) Many of the guests were from Canada and Michigan.

I asked my physician friend whether to cancel. She said, “Do what you think best, but I’d err on the side of caution.” We cancelled and ate pie alone. It was not in the spirit of π.

A more successful Pi day

I recently read Mary Oliver’s poem “That Little Beast,” in which she describes how creativity, like life, ignores our neat intent.

“That Little Beast”

By Mary Oliver (2)

“That pretty little beast, a poem,

has a mind of its own.

Sometimes I want it to crave apples

but it wants red meat.

Sometimes I want it to walk peacefully on the shore

and it wants to take off all its clothes

and dive in.

Sometimes I want to use small words

and make them important

and it starts shouting the dictionary,

the opportunities.

Sometimes I want to sum up and give thanks,

putting things in order

and it starts dancing around the room

on its four furry legs,

laughing and calling me outrageous.

But sometimes, when I’m thinking about you,

and no doubt smiling,

it sits down quietly,

one paw under its chin,

and just listens.”

Our beloved Casey - 2014- Jan 2025

Like Mary Oliver, I try to follow a writing plan ChatGPT helped me build. But then I stumbled across Melissa Gouty’s piece How to Be More Creative: What To Do When Your Words Misbehave, and instead of watching the next James Patterson MasterClass lesson as I planned, I fell face-first into her blog. Plans: 0. Serendipity: 1.

So—Do We Keep Planning?

Absolutely. Just maybe not so far ahead.

My life is short-range now. My lists have gotten shorter. My expectations are fuzzier. I’ve learned to plan lightly, hold loosely, and laugh when the universe says, “Oh, you thought that was up to you?”

Because when plans crack, buckle, collapse—or move into assisted demolition—we pick up the new map. We adjust. We try again. And we follow wherever the road bends, ideally with a little gusto, and a scarecrow peeking out the side of a napkin.

References

1. Benjamin Stevenson, Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone, Mariner Books, January 2023

2. Mary Oliver published over 25 books of poetry and prose, including Dream Work, A Thousand Mornings, and A Poetry Handbook. She won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1984 for her book American Primitive. Her final work, Devotions, is a collection of poetry from her more than 50-year career, curated by the poet herself. She died in 2019.