I know those of you who read my post last Friday were waiting with bated breath to see if I would make it back to civilization alive. I did. And here I am.
We had a few moments of near-maiming in the haunted house, but nothing I couldn’t manage. I think the ghost-sisters were out of practice, since it’s just the beginning of haunting season for them. They still put in a relatively good effort.
First, I stepped on a nail that was sticking up from a stair and almost fell down the steps from the shock. Then I misjudged the bottom step late at night and almost fell up them. The stairs were definitely a big source of danger, but they didn’t take me down—literally or figuratively. That meant I was healthy enough to almost drown from a chemical coma in the hot tub (which did exist!).
Most dangerously, the timer on the gas fireplace in my bedroom was broken. At least that’s what someone less tuned in to the haunting would think. I know the ghost-sisters just wanted to set the room on fire while I was sleeping. Luckily, Dave outsmarted them and turned it off while I was cluelessly dozing away.
I’d deem this weekend a success, since I ate a lot of snacks, wore my swimsuit, and laughed at my friends’ jokes. Plus, bettering a pair of ghosts is an accomplishment all on its own.
I tend to have strange dreams that stay in my mind long after I wake up. It’s probably because my brain never stops, which is a blessing when I need to come up with nicknames for river otters at the zoo and a curse when I am sitting in a low-key yoga class.
Last week’s dreams did not disappoint. A couple days ago, I woke up at 5am and said to Dave, “You can swim without arms if you have to.” He just said, “What are you talking about?” I repeated myself and then went back to sleep. I also had a dream where I needed to swim through very shallow water over the bones of a thousand long-dead tiny sharks. It was scary, but not nearly as terrifying as it sounds. I was mostly concerned about my belly rubbing against the jagged skeletons. Yesterday morning, I woke up and asked Dave, “Have you ever ridden on a metro car that turned into a boat?” He responded by standing up, announcing, “Good morning, metro riders. I’ll be your captain today,” and tipping his imaginary captain’s hat to me. I responded by throwing the sheets over my head.
I’m beginning to see an aquatic pattern here. It makes sense. Summer is on its way, which means I’ll be wishing I’m at a lake for the next 4-6 months. If I dream about mermen tonight, I’ll let you guys know.
It’s Monday—the start of a brand new week. An arbitrary division of time, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Lucky for all of us, these weeks just keep on coming. Every time one disappears, another arrives. They’re kinda like cockroaches and glitter in that way. Hopefully more like glitter. Besides the fact that glitter can get in your eye and scratch your cornea, so it’s not really a safe craft supply. (At least, this is what my grandfather told me as a child. I’m not sure if it’s true, but the warning worked, because I always avert my eyes when looking at extra-festive birthday cards.)
If last week didn’t treat you so great, shed it the way a snake slips out of its skin. You think a snake cares about that paper-thin remnant it leaves behind? No, it’s moving on to the rest of its life. It’s setting out to scare someone in a field of tall grass or find a little mouse to eat. There’s not much reason to be envious of a snake, but I think they’ve got us beat in the moving-on moments of life. So take all of last week, strap it on a tiny worry-raft like a Viking funeral director, and let it float away. Maybe don’t try to catch it on fire with a lit arrow though, because it’s important to know these weeks exist and are out there somewhere in the world.
If last week was wonderful, remember what it gave you and put it on a safe shelf in your mind. You can look at it to remind you that sometimes life is amazing. Fill your good-week jar with the people that smiled at you and the warm cookies you ate straight out of the oven and the rays of light that shone onto your desk that one beautiful afternoon. Tie it up with a ribbon made of that compliment you got from a long-lost friend. Set it on your shelf and remember where it is, because in a few weeks or months or years, you might need it.
Today is Monday and its going to be great. Or maybe it will be less then great. But, either way, we’re going to get another one soon enough.
Today someone told me they don’t like pizza and I kicked them in the shins. In my head. Out of disbelief.
What do people in LA talk about on the elevator, since the weather is always the same?
I’ve had a lot of time to think about this really important question, since I ride the elevator at work and am constantly being asked about the weather. Based on my one short trip to the city years ago and a lot of reality television, this is what I think small talk consists of in LA:
- a recent pilates-yoga-meditation-tai chi class on the beach
- how many kale juices each person drank that day
- which crystals will resolve a particular emotional ailment
- fusion cuisine in unsatisfying portions
- the weather always being the same
My one friend in LA will probably tell me they actually discuss astrophysics and world hunger while waiting for the little numbers to ding and the doors to slide open, but it’s likely she’s been brainwashed by Scientologists, so whatev.
I recently had to change my retirement account. And by “I had to change it,” I mean, I got a message that I didn’t understand, so I forwarded it to Dave and he did some stuff on the computer. Good thing I have a professional in the house.
Despite not being interested in the details, I’m excellent at choosing investments. I know this because I’ve had minor short-term success on a couple random choices. My secret is my tried and true stock-selection methodology. First, find something that you’ve heard of. Second, look at the zig-zag lines and make sure they are generally trending upward for a couple years. Third, check that the company isn’t super skeezy.
Here are some things I plan to invest in:
- A company that sells gummi candy in barrels
- A robot start-up (I am not so much interested in robots as I am in getting insider information, so I can know when the uprising will start)
- A unicycle manufacturer, because there won’t be any competition when they come back in style
- A collective that knits head-to-toe sweaters, with hoods and slippers. Basically, sweaters that turn you into a flying squirrel.
- A pottery shop that creates bowls with quotes encouraging seconds, like “Have just a bit more.” and “You’re looking a little too thin.”
- A ninja delivery system. Literally people dressed as ninjas who leave you presents.
And if these endeavors turn out to be duds, at least I’ll be well-prepared to join a circus run by sweater-wearing robots riding unicycles and eating sweets.
One of my very favorite bloggers, The Bloggess, recently posted a couple haikus on her site and encouraged readers to play along. She’s particularly talented and delightfully strange, so you should check those out. In the spirit of internet camaraderie, I’m going to share a few of my own. Warning, I am really hungry.
hotdogs with mustard
the one reason for baseball
let me eat in peace
sweet gummi candy
why are you not in my mouth
we need to fix that
what can i add here
hummus and yes more hummus
it’s much better now
Leave your own 5-7-5 syllable poem here in the comments and I’ll respond with another written just for you. You can use it as a voicemail message or tattoo it on your body. Whatever. I’m not in charge of your poetry usage.
Yesterday I saw someone put salt in his coffee. At first, I thought, “maybe he thinks it’s sugar.” But that made no sense, since it came right out of a big box labeled “SALT.” I’ve never once seen someone add that particular mineral to their morning brew. Was he confused? Did he do it for the shock value, waiting to see how I’d respond? Is it a way for him to cut down on his potato chip intake?
I was too in awe to ask him, so now I’ll never know. It will just have to stay with me as one of life’s great mysteries, along with the location of my missing socks and why I only ever have to pee once I leave my house.