When you get to be my age, you understand that life doesn’t always go as planned. Jobs change, circumstances, too, and you begin to see that the fastest way from Point A to B is not always a straight line. Well, it might be the fastest, but certainly it isn’t the most interesting. I organize a “girls’ weekend” with my daughter, Sarah, every Spring, but this year it was clear that she was navigating by her own compass. By the time we left Lansing, she had already researched fun things to do, great places to eat and mapped out new wine to drink. Did someone say “wine to drink?” She had my attention. On Saturday, we headed from the Grand Traverse Resort into town for “some serious shopping,” followed by lunch at Poppycocks — a must for any visitor — and then up the Peninsula for wine tasting. The drive was breathtaking. The heat of the day was just giving way to a coolness and gold haze found only on a Michigan road. The corn stood tall, waiting to be captured and road-side blueberry stands gave way to green fields, rolled out like carpets toward our destination. Our plan was to end up at The Boathouse at sunset, but a small grocery store beckoned, and off we went to find a “must have” before dinner. I grabbed my purse, jumped out of the car and pushed the lock on the door, without realizing my keys had decided to remain in the vehicle. Too late! I was locked out. My daughter began frowning and my beautiful day suddenly became a mini-crisis. I say “mini” because people who know me know I don’t give up easily. I remembered a fire station not far away, and in my high heels and skirt, hiked up the road to go “find me a fireman.” Turning into the station, my eyes were amazed to find a handsome “twenty-something” polishing an equally fantastic fire truck. And “Yes,” he could help, but he would need to call another buff fireman to assist us. “Aw, shucks really?” After a half hour of “fiddelin,” as they say, the locks got popped, hugs were provided and our trip began anew. Phew! At the Boathouse, we had the choice of a lousy table (punishment, I was sure, for my forgetfulness) or waiting patiently for something to open outside. My instincts told me to wait, but my daughter was beyond hungry. We waited any way, but it was getting late, and the sun had its own clock to keep. Just when it looked as if our day would end, a table suddenly opened, and it wasn’t just any table — the best table, just in time, to see a glorious Lake Michigan sunset. And as we relaxed into the fresh fish and last glass of wine, we realized that despite our plans, all things begin and end at the perfect time — only if we will let them.