I had a post in mind explaining why it pisses me off when people start tinkering with the fundamental core concepts of the romance genre, but since I’ll be without internet access for the weekend, I’ll save that for next week.
Instead…my random ponderings of the morning, let me show you them.
This morning I was thinking about the seasonal campers at our campground and the weird it’s a small world connections people make. There are twenty of us (I think), including the kids, and—except for one family group of a married couple and both sets of parents—we were all strangers before converging on that spot.
Three of us (and I’m one of them) have the same birthdate: September 6th. That’s probably statistically weird if you think about it.
There’s a group of three guys in one camper, and they’re from the town my mother was born in. They know my mother’s cousins very well and tell stories about them a lot. (They’re a wild bunch, I guess.) Ironically, I’ve only met these people once or twice when I was young and the guys know them better than I do.
One couple used to be seasonal at a different campground, which was overseen by a guy who lives with his daughter and her husband in the house behind my house.
The husband in the house behind mine is from the same town as my sister’s in-laws in Maine and knows her husband’s family.
No, you’re right—there’s not much point to this blog entry. Like the title says, it’s random musings. But it makes me think about reincarnation and the belief that as you go through the Karmic cycle, the same people (or balls of energy or whatever) show up again and again.
For instance, what were the chances that my husband and I would both be in Texas at the same time? We’re both from New England, both lived there less than a year (I think), neither of us have ever been back, and I was five and he was 22. But we were both there at the same time. And then in 1991, he sat at the counter of the restaurant where I waited tables (back here in New England) and asked for a coffee. The rest, as they say, is history.
Weird.
Okay, I’ll spare you any more rambling. I’ll also spare you another use of the word weird. I can’t reach my Synonym Finder from here. And I’m extremely hopped up on cold medication.
Have a good weekend!
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It is funny. My husband and I were born in the same state, didn’t meet. Moved to the same state where our dads worked for the same company. Didn’t meet. Both moved to the east coast, didn’t meet. Moved back to the state our dads worked in…happily ever after. After spending the first 30 years of our lives in geographic synch.
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My husband and I were in high school at the same time across town from each other, then met and married twenty years later. I always wonder if we would’ve worked together as well then as we do now. I kinda doubt it.
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Husband was in Baltimore (where I grew up) my senior year of high school. (Him: 26 Me: 16). Realized we probably saw Zefferelli’s Romeo and Juliet in the same movie house. Maybe even the same evening, since he saw it three times.
My father was from NC. Hubby’s family was in NC during the early 50’s. Had they stayed, he would have attended the same HS as my dad.
We met in NYC, where we were both working at the same costume house.
As for birthdays, once in college I sat at a cafeteria table with a bunch of peeps I didn’t normally sit with. Out of the 8 of us, three of us had the same birthday — July 7. This in a school with a total population of 500. :groucho:
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Interesting and a bit eerie…I like it. I’ll have to think of some of my own.
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Because I’m sick as the proverbial dog and still can’t reach my Synonym Finder, I’m going to use the word weird again.
It’s like fate/Karma/what-or-whom-ever keeps us circling, but doesn’t let us actually trip over each other until the time is right.