“You’re a frog in slowly heating water”my son told me the other day. It’s an apt analogy. I find myself impressed when Kris can pull a pillowcase off a pillow in a matter of seconds or when Mac easily removes a plastic wrapper in one deft movement. It’s like I can’t remember that I could do these things and more just less than a year ago. These are now challenging tasks for me but I never seem to get angry. Well, there was that one time when I really wanted some wine and I had a wee melt down when I couldn’t open the screw cap, but that was made all better when I discovered tiny juice box-sized wine at Lucky’s. Even at Lucky’s it’s weird when the chick in the wheelchair jubilantly shouts “Yay! Wine-in-a-BOX!” Yes, I'm a frog. Guess that explains my eagerness to get kissed. I am waiting for that one kiss that will transform me from frog back to the woman who did headstands.
A brief digression: I’m on my deck and two young men are having a heated altercation on the street. One of them just said “ Ah’m gonna SHIT on your balls, dude!” To which the other guy replied “Hey woah….woah!”
Call me old fashioned but I think it’s far more efficient to kick the crap out of someone or punch them into a new time zone or call them an arugula-eating elitist since none of these involve dropping your pants or relying on impeccably timed bodily functions. I am sorely tempted to point this out to them. I love living on a relatively hopping street. It ain’t New York, but there is action.
I had a day out on Thursday. Took the bus to Berkeley where I met my friend Gerry for a movie. I like getting out on the bus and I like all the fascinating people I meet. Got into a detailed conversation with a guy from India, implausibly named Jim, a crazy woman in a wheelchair (no, I wasn’t talking to myself) and finally the bus driver on the way home. She was admiring my butterfly tattoo and told me she wanted to get one herself with her son’s name inside the butterfly. He had died 4 years ago. I don’t know what possessed me to do this but I just knew it was what she wanted to hear so I told her I had a fatal illness and that I didn’t know if I believed in an afterlife, but if there was one, I would look her son up. She started to cry and clutch her heart and said “thank you” and “god bless you” over and over. “His name is Damion,” she told me. “Look at me, I can’t stop crying – we was meant to meet.” We both put our hands over our hearts and I got teary while she full on cried. I don’t know why I told her about my illness and why I suggested something I don’t think is possible. I just knew it was the right thing to do as weird as it sounds.
Two days in a row I’ve fallen backwards. This is worse than falling forwards because of the lack of control coupled with no visual warning about what you’ll hit. I hit soft carpet and found myself chuckling at the falls because although it scares me a bit, the comic element of the backwards fall cannot be ignored. I have got to keep finding the funny in all of this.
Speaking of funny, the ass-picture auction has ended. We made some good money for a small amount of effort ( and sadly, a small ass). Thanks to Wendy and Edith for making it happen!