Maybe Anything

I’ve had a week of weirdness. Unrelated things and people converged. Like heavily collided. Like the Universe has picked me up, moved me a second and set me back in the exact same but more aware-ly connected place; same space.

Yep, I’m gonna vague the details. Broadly, though, I was up until 1:00 AM last night plunking keys trying to connect the linear lights, random thoughts and rigid letters into a sphere of a story.

I tried an hour of editing. Tried to respectfully cloak it in anonymity. You know – so the players won’t know. Tonight’s tweaking didn’t take it to where it truly needed to be. So, it’s still incubating and I’m not letting it go. Yet. Be kind to me. I’m still so up on it, 24 hours later. Hoppy, happily awed at the alignment.

Goose bump similar, going/coming back. Retro. I’m in it like 2007, when a series of well-planned, well-placed God-smack coincidences sent me missioning to New Orleans with 49 strangers. Yeah, it’s like that. He’s got a plan and I’m waiting for it, excited. I’m going somewhere. Maybe only metaphysically. Maybe long haul. Maybe temporary. Maybe anything…

Hyped-up; like downing a mega-coffee specialty cuppa on an empty stomach, at midnight. Sort of odd since I’m off coffee on doctor’s orders. Glad, I unknowingly had that last fling with the Cola-Cola concoction.

It’s day 5 of nothing from a cow, nothing with gluten. I’m the way opposite of withdrawal. Go figure.

Comically, I scrolled into a Starbuck’s “Want!” inducing ad. Pistachio. Latte. So desirable, I may have whimpered, but since Nala-Lala thought I was talking to her, I’m gonna go with that. Hey, Universe – do your thing. Make that potentially tasty run last a little while. Please.

Make this run last a little while, too, please. Something’s happening here, and it feels so good.

Thought for the Week:

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The C’s, One More Thing (Only Me)

I made it back to my home desk an hour later than planned. Luckily, I have a thick vacation bank and sometimes the energy to flex an hour or so longer to find a clean place to stop.

Sliding into my seat, I felt the death-glare before I located the source. Gray cat on a gray carpet throwing laser beams. I apologized to HBlu, again, but fore-warned him. “We’re going back. Because, I love you. Amendously.”

While I was trying to figure out a prioritization balance between what needs the most attention and what seems most urgent, my phone flashed in a weird disco-ish way.

Two calls at once. Quite the anomaly for me. Ringer one was a colleague. The other was the vet’s office. I took the coworker call. At the end of our brief check-in, the vet called, again.

The caller asked me to go take a look at Harley Blu’s med that we’d picked up at the visit. She aske if HBlu’s name was on the bottle. It wasn’t. There was name there, but it was followed by ‘canine.’ It had already been determined that the medication contained was the correct one, but I compared it to the pills left from the last Rx and confirmed that for myself, as well.

I was asked if I could bring them back, because one of the prescriptions given was a narcotic and they needed to correct the owner’s names for their dispensary records. I explained that I had been one of the front-row right-outside-the- front-door sitters waiting for a jump and had already dropped my car off to be examined.

Oddly enough, the other car with the canine got my label and I got theirs. Maybe our difficulties were some sort of cosmic delay so that the office could notice their problem while we were still there. If so, the universe failed us, all.

But, that’s not the important part. Or maybe it was, because it became a catalyst for this revelation.

I’ve mostly adjusted to the odd and unusual situations I find myself in.

I think there’s a pre-programmed, mental-shrugging mechanism that becomes active in over-accepting, mid-life minds. I mean, by the time you’ve heaved over the hump, you’re aware stuff goes wrong and freak outs aren’t really worth the effort, anymore.

Quote for the Week:

ps. amendously isn’t a real dictionary word. It is, however, a 100% original Knabbler word.

Last vs This; Starting Here

So, it’s been a week since I declared I wanted to be happy.

And I’ve had some interesting thoughts since then.

I’ve joined an art challenge group. I’ve been communicating with someone whose art I admire. I’m paying more attention to posts everywhere and more than one-click interacting. I’m using words. LOL.

Thank you for all of the notes, messages, IM’s and emoji support. In the past 7 days, I’ve gone from one-way communication to two-way comm. Before you start in with vibes of technical fouls, I’ll agree with you. No, it’s not ‘in-person’ or on the phone, but I’m saying it counts, because it’s more than I’ve had in a few years.

So, what was I gaining from all that walling off?

Not adding people to my life means I won’t be losing more than I know I already will.

The easy obliteration of as much drama as possible. I don’t need any extra help being dramatic. Odd stuff happens with cosmic commonness, and I certainly don’t need anyone’s ramp to help push me along. I can do that just fine by myself.

What else? Oh! Not dusting every week. Sure, a few times pre-planned times a month, someone stops by for a nice chat or an adventure. Everyone knows advance notice is more than appreciated. Since COVID March-ed in, there has been only one threshold crossing in 8 months.

And that’s only because I begged for an out of control coif shearing.  A few electric trimmer (with guard swipes) left the multi-color multi-length mullet behind and revealed my new ‘true’ hair color.  Which, interestingly, isn’t anything like the hair color I had gotten used to thinking was under all those years of hair dye.

Happily, I’ve got sparklies! Not Jamie Lee Curtis level, but a girl can dream, right?

I tried the ‘going-silver’ in salon route repeatedly without success. I’ve also tried boxing it with unusual results. Light pink -peach, brownish-watermelon, and one an entirely hideous seafoam green which hilariously garnered some not in the least subtle why’d-you-do-that comments.

It’s safe to say, I’ve figured out a few truths since last Tuesday:

My hair has stopped reacting normally to processing.

My body and emotions seem to be sharing the rebellious path.

Actually….

All of me is no longer responding in a biologically correct way.

Additional Thoughts @ Knabble-Podcast: Knabble-Pod

Thought for the Week: