It seems peculiar to me that for the past couple of Saturday mornings, I've found myself out driving here and there in the eleventh hour of the morning to get such and such a task done. And for some strange reason, i've found myself changing the radio stations, bored with everything, and finally landing on kcrw's Saturday morning eleven o'clock hour radio program.
These programs are great. They're stories about people from real people. They're enlightning and engaging. Often i've found myself already at my destination, but still sitting in the car trying to listen to the end of someone's amazing story. This past week, i found myself almost tearing up while listening to this woman's account of her dying husband. A couple weeks ago, i sat in my car, in a parking lot in amazement at this guy's story about how his very own apt. made its way on the show, The Bachlorette, and the following events that changed his life.

I guess its not that wierd that i've been in the car each week at the same time listening to these other people's lives. But to me it is. It's not like i remember each week that this show is on at 11am saturday mornings (i'm not even sure i will remember now, even after blogging.) And to not remember that it's there, but to come back to it repeatedly and getting so much out of it...that to me is fate.