I really really really wanted to go to the Great Lakes Boat Building School yesterday.
You see, this weekend is the ninth annual Girls' Weekend (Girls' Weekend is where me and my two sisters and my mom go on vacation together every summer) and we decided to do it a little differently this year.
This year, we're splitting up the planning responsibilities: this year, each of us four girls gets to plan one half-day of our vacation.
And I wanted to go to the boat building school. Last night they we're having a fundraiser - a beer fundraiser no less - from 5:00 - 8:00 pm.
That's was a little tricky seeing as it is 4 hours away from Owosso and Mom wasn't going to get out of work (in Lansing) until 3:00 pm.
Circumstances are no match for me, though. I called them up special and got permission to arrive right at 8:00, just in time for maybe one glass of beer and a tour of the school.
Well, the day didn't go as planned. I had to pick up Kathleen from Kalamazoo and I was running a half hour late right out of the gate. Then, on the way home, I missed my exit for I-69 and went shooting off 25 miles toward Grand Rapids. Wonderful.
Too stubborn to admit defeat, I rushed around for the rest of the afternoon in a vain attempt to keep to our schedule, to arrive on time.
Without going into the hairy details, let's just say this: it didn't work.
And that is how, at 4:36 pm yesterday afternoon, with the GPS arrival time reading 8:48, I found myself sobbing in the passenger seat of my mom's Buick LeSabre.
I'm talking big, silly, we-just-lost-the-little-league-world-series tears. Little girl tears.
And you know what? I wouldn't change a thing.
I really wanted to go, and I worked hard to make it happen, and I failed. I really thought I could do it, even though it seemed impossible to everybody else.
And I failed.
Which is how this story ends sometimes.
Big silly tears cried in your mom's LeSabre - sometimes that's what it looks like to live like you mean it.