Good Move

Three nights from now, I'll be living in a different house, in a different town, with a different lifestyle. And all of those differences.......in a good way.  

Rabbit's Feet

I have this weird superstition that I've sort of followed all my life. I discovered it when I was in grade school. First of all, let me say that I don't believe in superstitions per say. What I do believe in is physics, and energy, and the laws that govern the flow of energy. We all attract energy in different ways, and energy flows through us and around us in different ways. This is the basis for all the things we do, or don't, attract into our lives.

So here's my weird theory: If I have a feeling something is going to happen, if I talk about it or write about it, it doesn't happen. If I keep it to myself, it does. Weird, right? Right. Soooo many times, from wayyyy back when I was a kid, I found that if I blurted out some comment about some really-cool-thing I thought would happen, the really-cool-thing never happened. And if I kept my mouth shut, it did. So now, as an adult, this theory still holds true. I've learned to accept that if I'm really dreading something, I had better either talk or write about that thing I'm dreading so that it won't happen. And, most of the time, this works. I'm thinking there's something going on with the verbalized thought-energy of the thing I'm dreading (Let's say.....for example......just hypothetically speaking here of course, that I'm dreading my brother's upcoming visit this week....) repels the energy of the dreaded thing, thus preventing it from happening. (See, I told you it was weird.)

So having now shared with you my theory.....

My brother called tonight to tell me two things:
1. Dad fell two nights ago, didn't break anything, but ended up with a bunch of cuts and scrapes and somehow came down with pneumonia yesterday.
2. He (my brother) is NOT coming up on Thursday as he had planned.

There.

The Week Before the Rest of My Life

I wrote the title you see above and immediately thought,
"Well that's a bit excessive."
Then I thought for a moment,
Before erasing it and starting over,
And looked around at the,
Counting them now, 1...2....
Thirty-one boxes labeled,
Kitchen, Bathroom, Bedroom, etc,
And the naked counters,
And the stark cupboards,
And all of the now identity-challenged drawers formerly known as,
The silverware-drawer,
The junk-drawer,
The knife-drawer,
The battery-drawer,
The spice-drawer,
The warranty-drawer,
And I realized that in exactly seven days from now,
I would call a different house my home,
Walk out a different door to go to the store,
Look out a different window
To see completely different scenery,
Say How are you? to different neighbors,
Wake up to a different ceiling,
Cook in a different kitchen,
Invite friends over to a different place,
"Stay home" in a different home.
Eeyup. That title feels about right.

Conversation with Uma on a Frigid Winter Night

So I turned to Uma,
My devoted English cocker,
And I whined to my captive canine audience of one,
"Ohhh how I wish I had a personal masseuse.
No, I do! I wish I had a personal masseuse
So that when my feet ache like they do right now,
I could just call for my personal masseuse
And she....or he.....would come and rub out
All the aches and the stiffness and the toxic buildup
From my ankles, and soles, and toes."

Uma slept.
I took a hot bath.

One Less Joyful Song

A happy bird flew into my life

And sang a joyful song. 

I turned away,

To live my life,

And now that bird is gone. 

(to my friend Garron Guest, who died today)

My Crazy Family

I live for those magical moments when I read something, see something, or just think about something and, for whatever reason, it tweaks my funny bone so abruptly that spontaneous laughter pops out of me like a crazy firecracker. Case in point.......

I have an older sister who lives in Georgia, lives by herself, and who: 1. Hasn't spoken to one of our brothers in almost twenty years because he basically called her on her shit once and she hasn't forgiven him since; 2. Hasn't spoken to me in over five years (She claims I moved in with my parents for the sole reason of "taking all of Mom and Dad's money." During her last visit to Sequim in December 2004, I yelled something at her along the lines of, "Jesus Christ what's wrong with you?!" because well, she was acting like a freakin' looneytune, so I vented out loud, and she has since referred to that outburst as verbal abuse.); 3. Flat refuses to use email because she "doesn't believe in it"; 4. Claims to be a lawyer but works only free lance because she claims no firm will hire her (Maybe that email thing has something to do with it?); 5. Hasn't spoken to her only son, his wife, or their two children (her only grandchildren) in over five years because he won't apologize for some ridiculous incident that happened years and years ago involving a Thanksgiving visit, and a guest room that she insists should have been reserved for her and not her daughter's-in-law eighty-year-old grandmother.

Anyway, she's loopy, and the family knows it, and we all wish it was different, but since she has refused all invitations to rejoin the family, we just.....sort of accept it as one of those "it is what it is" situations.

Back in the early 2000's, when my sister and I were still speaking, she sent me the pillow in the picture shown above. We talked on the phone, I thanked her, and we laughed at the sentiment. As the years have passed and my sister has alienated herself more and more from the family, and added more and more fodder to the my-sister's-loopy fire, that pillow has taken on a weirder and weirder meaning.

The one hangup of hers that has always been a head-shaker for all of us is her insistence that if family members want to communicate with her they can either put a stamp on an envelope and mail her a letter, or pick up the phone and call. (I should point out that, for those of us in the family to whom she doesn't speak, the phone option no longer works.) My oldest brother (the only sibling she's still talking to at this point) has brought up time and time again all the family photos that she's missing out on because the rest of us all share them online via email. Her response? Print the photos out, put them in an envelope, put a stamp on the envelope, and mail them to her. It's like she's got this unwavering, fallback allegiance to the almighty USPS. So, because she voluntarily refuses to move forward with the rest of the world, the rest of us are supposed to bend over backwards to accommodate her choice to live in the past. Honestly, I'm surprised my sister hasn't applied for a job with the USPS. Wait, the USPS uses email don't they.....

So jump now to this morning. Here's the chain of events that led to my laughter explosion...
1. I'm watching tv.
2. Commercial comes on for FedEx.
3. My memory immediately brings up the recent stories about the USPS shutting down.
4. LOLOLOLOLOL!

"I laugh because there's nothing you can do about it."