Do You Believe In Weirdness?

Not like in me.  I know I’m weird.  And I’m riiight here.  Yep, not going anywhere.
Let me rephrase.
Sometimes things happen.  And, well, there is just really no way of explaining them.  And not like that time when I accidentally bought the same outfit twice because I apparently really, really liked it and forgot I bought it the first time, so I bought it again.  Not like that.
And before I begin, some of my people will say there are ways to explain things, and I will nod pensively—and then I will probably cry AT you.  Not just cry, but cry in your general direction because you are the person making me cry at the moment.  Mean-bully-pants, you.  And if you try to tell me there is an explanation, I will attempt to understand that, yes, logically there is probably an explanation.
Also, some of my tribe will say that I am crazy, mostly because they know me and I am crazy.  So there’s that.  But also because I’ve been questioning a LOT of things lately, so I pretty much spiritually don’t know my ass from a set of ben-wa balls.  But that’s beside the point.
Thing is, what had happened was…(there’s a certain way you HAVE to say that part, and if you know me, you know how to say it.)
I was clearing my phone off the other day, because Jason told me the reason it won’t work is because I’m technology-deficient and I never clean anything off and things only have so much memory and if I have messages on there from 1952 it will eventually fritz out and refuse to work.  Which it did.  So I was clearing stuff off of it when I ran across a message.  An old message.  A message I had deleted.
It was the oldest message on my phone.  And one I had told my phone to DELETE.  Yet it was there.
And right there in my ear was the voice of my now-dearly-departed dad saying, “Uh yeah hi, it’s your old man.  I was wondering if you could help me pick out some Christmas presents for Mom.  Love you, Dumplin’. Uh, yeah…”
And it trailed off, because it was my dad, and well he would rather have been having a Milwaukee’s Best in the barn rather than talking on any piece of electronic gadgetry.  Frankly, I’m surprised he even figured out how to get his cell phone to function.
But there it was.  His voice.  And dammit if I didn’t start blubbering like a baby right there at the soccer field waiting for my boys to start playing.  The hell, Dad?  Really?  And seriously…I’m 42 and still being called Dumplin’?  I never thought I would EVER hear that again coming from his voice.  And I would give just about anything to hear it again a few more times.
I totally lost my shit, you guys.  And EVERYONE who knows me knows I’ve held my shit in for 3 months.  In fact, friends have told me, you are eventually gonna lose it, and I kept saying, “Nah, I’m good.”  And I was–if good meant that I was going to hold it in and eventually burst like Mt. St. Helen’s when I couldn’t hold it anymore.  Yeah, I was doing great.
I’ve been MAD.  Grrrrr.  Argh.  That kind of mad where you just want to eat tree bark and spit out pencils, but I haven’t really said it.  And then I just sort of got the feeling that maybe Dad didn’t want me to be mad at Mom…when he asked me to help get her Christmas presents.

So does weird crap like that happen?  Or is it just weird crap?  Is it meant to happen?  Because if my dad’s hanging around somewhere, I could really use a beer right now.  Although I always told him I thought he could upgrade from Milwaukee’s Best any time.
And for those of you who may be wondering, even though it may sound like it in this post, noooo, I have not already had a beer.

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