Sometimes I forget that in Utah we have a direct line to the Universe. Meaning everyone is in tune, if you get my drift.
Like tonight when my hub called and said we were going to have a blizzard at 6 p.m. so everything was closing down early and all activities for the evening were cancelled.
The thought of being snowed in watching movies and eating Oreos in my PJs all night gave me a thrill and a brainy idea popped into my head out of nowhere--Walmart. Redbox. Snacks. Soda. It wasn't until I got to Walmart that I remembered everyone in Utah is tuned into the same cosmic channel.
We all had the exact same idea at the exact same time.
We all had the exact same idea to do our Thanksgiving shopping at the exact same time too.
Do I live in the Twilight Zone or what? (Minus Edward and Jacob.)
Speaking of Jacob, yesterday I promised photographic evidence that Jacob has read my blog.
How do I know this? My daughter told me so. And he told her so. On Halloween in Laie.
(Close your eyeballs if you're still PG-13.)
So this is Jacob with my daughter (who was dressed up as a klutz. So, in other words, she was dressed up as Bella):
Okay, so this is the real wolf pack, right?
And this is the Laie wolf pack:
Raise your hand if you think the director got the casting all wrong.
(Okay, you can open your eyeballs now.)
So tonight while we were waiting for the blizzard to hit, I sauteed mushrooms and onions and poured them over savory chicken and then we all sat around the table eating and laughing together as a family. The house was aglow (since we (my hub (his nickname is we)) finally changed all the burnt out light bulbs. Lulu was curled up in front of the roaring fire in the hearth and vintage Christmas carols wafted through the kitchen when I looked over and noticed that one of our blinds was open so we could watch the snow fall.
For a split second I felt self conscious--almost embarrassed--and I hoped no one was outside looking in. Not because I didn't want them to see us in our Thomas Kincade moment, but because I didn't want them to feel us in our Thomas Kincade moment. I didn't want them to feel that pang of being on the outside. Looking in. And wondering what it feels like to be cozy and warm and eating sauteed mushrooms and onions with your complete family. Intact. By a roaring fire.
And then in a flash there was someone looking in. It was a girl. Young. Teenager maybe. She was so familiar, but I couldn't quite place her. I had an overwhelming desire to shut the blinds so as to spare her the longing she was certainly feeling out there in the cold.
And then it hit me. She was me.
Allow me a moment . . .
Last night I crawled into bed at 3 a.m. I tossed and turned for a good 30 minutes before finally drifting off. I told you that I was chugging Mountain Lightning straight from the bottle and wiping my mouth off like a man, right? And I showed you what my innards looked like, right?
Well it wasn't just because of the SAM-e contest stress. It was also because I was TICKED! I was so dang, stinkin', friggin' ANGRY!
At the d-word.
I've had it up to here with that d-word!
This is WAR!
I am officially declaring war on the d-word. On ALL of the d-words. (Except Debbie.)
(And Dee Dee.)
d-pression, d-scouragement, d-spair . . . even death (when it's preceded by the other d-words).
These words are our enemies and I hereby d-clare that I, Crash Test Dummy, am going to do whatever it takes to drop-kick their yellow bellied booties to the curb.
We can't let them invade our minds and hearts anymore!!
As my boy FloRida would say, "LET'S GET 'EM!"
(Are you scared of me yet?)
I hate to lose. Mostly because I hate to feel the loss part that losing always brings--the vast empty hollowness of it. But there's nothing worse than losing to those d-mn, d-ceptive d-words.
The Red Raiders 4 Life lost one of their own to the d-word yesterday.
This is Dee Dee:
My friend Dana and I are going to make a magic quilt next and I'm going to send it to Dee Dee's parents.
Aloha Oe Dee Dee.
P.S. THIS is why they created Gangsta Rap!