Good feelings

Bill and I agree that our luck of late hasn't been anything to cheer about. Winter and other factors have taken their toll. Heck, I even bought a DVD Saturday so we could sit home and watch something other than re-runs----both political and entertainment-oriented on the television set.

The ZAGS had won their game early in the day, the snow had started, and it would be a good evening to just hunker down and watch the recently released 3:10 from Yuma. The movie had been recommended by my friend Mow, so I selected it from the "New Release" pile at Wal-Mart---paid 20 bucks.

After the regional TV news ended, I told Bill about the movie and suggested we watch it. He happily agreed. I placed it in the DVD tray and pushed "play." The first sign something was wrong came in the message "insert disk." Well, I had, but I did so once more. The sign reappeared, and I could hear some thumping noise inside that DVD inner sanctum.

"Put another DVD in," Bill suggested. I did. "Insert disk" the machine told me once more. At that point, I lost it.

"Can I do anything right?" I barked. "Can't even play a damn movie, and I paid twenty bucks for it." Bill tried the machine with no luck. I stomped off mad.

You know how you reach those points of frustration when it seems like everything you do or touch seems to go bad. This was one of those moments. Normally I wouldn't get so upset about not being able to watch a movie----ask my daughter, and she'll tell you how she has to poke me all the time during movie watching or repeat time after time, "Are ya awake, Mom?" Well, here was one movie setting that turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

The camel had had enough bad luck, and the camel wanted really much to forget all the bad luck, escape to Yuma and worry about some fictional people's bad luck. But the damn DVD player was broken. And, it was snowing and blowing outside and the thought of driving back to Wal-Mart to purchase a hundred-dollar new DVD player to play our $20 movie, though tempting, just didn't seem sensible.

So, I left Bill with the downstairs TV, went upstairs turned on the television, and Tom Hanks saved the day. He just happened to show up on ABC's Saturday night movie presentation in The Terminal.

Yes, it was a rerun---at the Love house anyway because one time a while back when the DVD player was working and Annie was home and nudging her mom, asking, "Are ya awake, Mom?" the movie was airing in our own living room. At that time I must have been awake for only the last ten minutes cuz I didn't remember anything about the first 90-plus minutes.

Bill did, though, cuz he was apparently awake when it aired, and he knew what was in the Planters Peanuts can.

"D'ya know what's in that can?" he asked as we began watching the TV presentation.

"No, do you?" I said.

"Yeah," he said.

"How do you know?" I asked, still thinking this was a brand-new movie for the two of us to watch on this snowy Saturday night.

"Cuz I've seen it before," he said.

Go figure. Add one more to the roster. I learned, with that conversation, that we were, indeed, watching a re-run and that we had (some of us) watched it right in our living room some time back. Nonetheless, Bill stuck with Mr. Najorsky (Tom Hanks), and so did I. Saturday night, I actually didn't fall asleep during The Terminal until toward the end cuz stuff started looking pretty familiar, and I knew he'd get the good looking lady and that all would end well. So, I snoozed on through the night on that note.

Then, yesterday morning we dealt with drifts. I was not surprised to see that the papers did not arrive. Bill was going to church---two services at the Presbyterian Church---so he cleared out a path in the driveway and said he'd call when church was over---to see if the papers came. If not, he would purchase them in town. They hadn't come when he called, so he showed up shortly after with the Spokesman and the North Idaho Sunday (which usually takes 90 seconds to read).

The worst part with that paper was that my friend had already told me who had written letters to the editor, so yesterday it took only 50 seconds to read. Then, I picked up the Spokesman and began reading a story.

"Why have I read this before?" I thought to myself. I checked out another headline and the photos. Was this Ground Hog day at the Lovestead? Everything looked very familiar. Then, I looked at the date for the paper. It was the Saturday Spokesman, which had come to our house in our paperbox, and I had read it the day before.

I told Bill. He grimaced and then complained, "I put 8 quarters in the machine. I had to go inside to get the change because they had told me the Sunday Spokesman was in the paperbox."

Well, you paid $2 for yesterday's news," I said. Bill was irritated especially cuz the Saturday paper does not cost $2. He agreed that our luck sure was going down the tubes.

But the story does not end there, and this one is not a rerun.

We both worked outside during the afternoon, clearing paths and driveways and snow off from the roof of the caved-in storage shed. It was cold but a beautiful day to be outside. We were both standing in the driveway when a car went by very slowly.

"Maybe that's the papers," I said. Then, the car went on down the road. Our hopes for reading Sunday morning news were once again dashed. Bill went into the house for a minute. I finished what I was doing outside, and the car came back, stopping at the end of the driveway.

It was the paper lady. She and her family had been snowed in and had just gotten out. In the midst of their snow removal attempts, their snowblower refused to fire up and they broke part of their plow. Not a good day for them. I told her about our bad luck of late and then, just for fun, told her about Bill buying the Saturday paper for $2.

Without batting an eye, she pulled out a bag of coins and handed over eight quarters.

"I can tell 'em at the office," she said. "How about the North Idaho Sunday?"

"No problem there," I said. "We got today's edition."

After all the bad luck we've had, this was a moment to behold. Someone, who'd had plenty of challenges herself, was making it right. She handed over the papers. We talked, and I walked back to the house feeling mighty good that for once, something turned out positive.

Granted, a small thing---just two dollars---but just like the normally inconsequential situation of the DVD player not working, this moment struck a strong chord---in this case a very positive chord, a reminder of a comment Bill made to me long, long ago when we first met: it's often the little things that often make the biggest difference in life.

Thank you Spokesman lady for making our day. It went well from that moment on. Maybe our luck is changing.