A two-hour drive for a Hideaway’s Pizza? Crazy, maybe. To be sure, it wasn’t planned. I’m one of those who sometimes acts on a whim rather than thinking it over. The drive was back in the day when Stillwater had the only location, and I was recalling fond memories of it to the passenger in my car.
Me: We really ought to go get one.
Passenger: Okay.
Me: How ‘bout them Cowboys?
So, we hit the highway and drove and drove. It was a time of conversations between friends about important things – because everything seemed important, or at least magnified in intensity and perceived with a flourish.
The pizza? It was good. We knew it would be. Even if it had been bad it would have been good, for all the effort put into sitting down in that little restaurant and having it presented to us.
Some of my capricious decisions haven’t turned out so well. It hasn’t stopped me from acting on little-considered ideas.
Planning is part of the fun, I’ve been told numerous times. A variety of responses have always popped out of my mouth to that one.
Planner: You know planning is half the fun.
Me: Sure. It doubles the disappointment when the plan falls through.
Planner: You just have to make an alternate plan, just in case.
Me: A plan for a failed plan?
Planner: Right.
Looking ahead with anticipation is one thing, but I’m better known for stopping (while admittedly lost) to find a road map that will explain which highway is the one we should have turned on forty-five minutes ago.
The cliché is something like this (always abbreviated, and trailing off in a near-whisper while looking at someone’s failed endeavor): The best-laid plans…
The rest of it, usually omitted because we don’t know what the heck it is supposed to imply, goes like this in another abbreviated form: The best-laid plans of mice and men…
Scottish poet Robert Burns is credited with the saying, which concludes: The best-laid plans of mice and men often go astray. Besides his writing, Robbie Burns also kept a garden and once plowed through a nest of mice while tilling. He figured the mouse probably assumed it was a safe spot to build a nest, but – as he noted – plans often go astray.
Which brings me to my point.
Early last week, when emails were being exchanged among the Rose District merchants about First Thursday plans (the night we all keep our businesses open later), it was noted that the day’s forecast included a high of 82-degrees, sunny skies, and balmy breezes. A perfect evening for outdoor strolling, shopping, and listening to the outdoor concert by the band hired especially for the event.
The emails solicited replies from other store owners about their own plans.
Ahhh. There’s that planning thing again, the virtue I’ve been accused of not possessing in the least. In truth, I didn’t have an etched-in-stone event. Playing it by ear – that’s me.
Sunny skies? Ahhh, no. High of 82-degrees? That was yesterday. Strolling and listening to the outdoor music? Jogging in place might be the better idea, in order to keep from freezing up.
As I sit here typing, the day’s high has likely come and gone. Temperatures are expected to fall into the low forties by late afternoon. Sunshine? No. They’ve changed that plan to a possibility of freezing rain or snow. Snow!
We may see some record low temperatures by tomorrow morning, but snow in May in Tulsa County?
I’m not planning on it. So, come visit!
McHuston
Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District: 122 South Main Street
Broken Arrow, OK!
