Horoscopes Can Be Spooky

Yesterday was a bad day. There was some drama with my daughter — nothing major, just very emotional, more for her than me — crap with my landlord, and the most upsetting was that a friend’s ashes were scattered on Thursday, but nobody told me it was happening that day.

I wasn’t happy.  Sure, the drama with my daughter allowed us to have a very productive conversation and it was good practice for her to be able to open up; her mother had “trained” her that if she speaks her mind she’s selfish. The issue had actually started the night before when at 1:00 am I had said I wanted the TV off and she didn’t want to go to bed, so she sat on the couch for 30 minutes just to make a point about it being her choice on when to go to bed. (I’ll write another post about this “I’m growing up” experience later.) The other things that happened were very annoying and emotionally draining. I needed a break.

I had tried to get in touch with my friend Stacy to see if she wanted to go to the NHL Draft in Los Angeles at the Staples Center. I have season tickets to the LA Kings, so the tickets to the draft were free, it would be a chance to get a summer hockey fix, and I’d be in a neutral environment and able to relax. I finally heard from her around 4:30 — the draft started at 4:00 — and we decided to go for it.  When I got her house we decided that LA traffic SUCKS and that we wouldn’t make it to the draft anyway. Backup plan: margaritas and music at a local bar.

Pulling into the parking lot there were two parking places available, next to each other.  The car in front of mine pulled up as if he was going to back into the 2nd spot, so I simply pulled into the 1st spot. Next thing I know he’s out of his car, yelling that I stole his spot, and simply going off the deep end…with his wife and 3 kids in the car. A fine example of a father. We calmly told him that we didn’t take his spot; there’s another one right next to us! Granted, it was on the end and wasn’t very clear that it was a spot, but it was. He shut up for a moment, looked at the parking strips at his feet, and appeared humbled. Well, he couldn’t “lose” an argument, so then he started yelling and saying that I was right on his bumper as we pulled in to the lot. Um…no. This guy was not helping my day. Finally he got back in his car and went and parked elsewhere.

We made it inside and started on a pitcher of margaritas. I needed this. Stacy asked about all the stuff that was going on that day — I had only told her it was bad and no specifics — and just talking about it helped.  Telling her about the conversation with my daughter was very helpful, since she had been through similar things with her now adult kids. Talking about my friends ashes being scattered revealed just how much that had affected me. I didn’t realize it until I discussed it, but again, talking about it and getting reassurance that it doesn’t change the friendship I had with him helped. All in all, sitting with this good friend of mine, hearing her wisdom, helped.

Horoscopes Scare Me Now
I don’t usually read my horoscope. When I do I know that its all entertainment, and more of the things they say are very generalized and can fit into almost anyone’s life. Many times I’ll read them the next day just to see if they were accurate. That way, what they say doesn’t provide any sub-conscience influence the day ahead.

This morning I read yesterday’s horoscope:

Conversations with those you look up to prove to be most rewarding. Unexpected developments could force you to regroup. A family member acts out in order to get your attention. Tonight’s Tips: TGIF. Meet a friend.

Like I said, pretty general…but in this case pretty accurate. I think I need to go grab today’s paper now.

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About Fresh Start Dad
Early forties, divorced dad of two teenagers, surviving back in the single world. Here to share stories and any survival skills I pick-up a

One Response to Horoscopes Can Be Spooky

  1. Lisa says:

    That is very spooky! But, maybe if they do influence you, it could be for better and not for worse.

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