Guardian Angels...

I believe in spirits. I always have. I'm not sure spirits is the right word. And they sure ain't ghosts. Ghosts have creepy implications. Maybe guardian angels, some with crooked halos? I like that. I should abbreviate that, my G.A.C.H.S.

 

My GACHS are loved ones that have passed into the greater beyond. Please don't judge me, they don't exactly fly around my house chatting with me. So far they haven't whispered the loto numbers or anything important like that. And they suck at stopping the slot machines one click early… But ever now and than they help.

 

I truly believe they are always with Bobby on traffic watch. Either that or I really do have super human powers. Occassionally a bad driver will try to nail us and I'll stick out my arm out and yell. Why? For that second, I honestly think I have the power to create a force field around the van. Don't know how, Don't know why. But it does work. Bob says its the silliest thing he ever seen. So what is easier to believe? GACHS protect us or my force fields steer away unwanted accidents?

 

My GACHS perform other duties. They control signal lights. They can even control the rain. Don't get me wrong they aren't all mighty but usually even in the worse downpours, there is almost always 5 seconds where I get less wet.

 

But finally, I got the proof I needed. I have GACH's. yesterday I did something very dumb. When I went to pick up Nicholas from the bus stop I didn't realize how cold it was outside. Come on folks, it's late march in Houston, I'm ready to buy a swim suit this weekend, not wear a jacket.

 

So its freezing. Nicholas and I are racing home. All of a sudden he hops on the back of my wheelchair, I'm giggling, or were my teeth chattering? Maybe both. Usually I don't let him ride but I got this new heavier wheelchair. and if i wanted him off, I'd have to stop to yell at him … besides, we were almost home. Blah blah blah.

 

Sidewalk ride was smooth. Crossing the street was a snap. I hit the driveway full speed and I feel myself falling backwards in slow motion. I scream at nick to get off because if the wheelchair fell on him, bones would break. He must of sense the urgency in my voice because he immediately hopped off, unharmed.

 

I felt a millisecond of relieve knowing Nicholas was safe. But then it occurred to me that I was still falling backwards. A million thoughts went through my mind. This is gonna really hurt. I hope bob rents a pressure steamer to wash the blood from the driveway.  Nicholas is such a good boy. He'll just go in and call 911 and his daddy. That is unless… Oh hell I think the tv is on. If it is, and its on cartoon network, I'm dead. Nicholas will be sucked into the tv and I'm gonna bleed to death…. Then I thought, ya know, I should lean forward… my last ditch effort before I… I closed my eyes and…

 

"Mommy can I have chocolate? I got a purple." I opened one eye as Nicholas tapped his fingers on my knee. Oh my god, my wheelchair was upright. The only thing more puzzling was how unaffected my son was by our near death experience. I was still stunned as Nicholas rattled on. "if you don't say no in three seconds, I'll take it as a yes." Where the hell did he get that mouth?

 

As I live and breeth I swear my GACHs gave me a push forward because with the angle, slope of the driveway, weight of my wheelchair, I should have flipped. Bottom line.

 

So thank you my spirits. Tonight I'll leave milk and cookies out for my sweet relatives, and a swig of whiskey for the questionable ones… and a thank you note… with extra paper… incase they wanna leave me a love note… or like lotto numbers…

Self Motivational Slut

I'm starting this new seminar stuff. And most of the time it feels like 4 step backwards, 3 and 7/8 forwards. But my husband likes it because it keeps me focus and when I'm busy, my nagging decreases.

I'm trying all these ways to promote myself. One "gimmick" is I'm offering a monthly seminar at the college to surrounding businesses. So far I had three, 1 successful, 2 a burst. Bob thinks I should keep doing them til the cows come home…yeah, he supportive and stuff but bottom line, if I'm busy doing a thousand letter mail out, I don't have time to smother him with my attention.

At first I thought no. I can't. its too depressing when no one shows up. Then I thought, I work better with a deadline, sad but true, stems from my newspaper background. If I don't have a date, I’ll probably end up procrastinating. But still, three weeks of work and no one shows up sucks majorly.

So there are my options, More deadlines and painting a huge bull eye across my forehead for rejection or murder because I go psycho when bob leaves the seat up. Which "normal me" laughs at, are women incapable of putting the seat down? I never understood this great battle between the sexes…

I'm debating and debating this. Then it occurred to me that I usually have my seminars in the mornings and Bob usually takes the day off. Maybe I could make this work for me. I'll do the huge mail out, make the calls to the 4th follow up, put my heart soul, and paper cuts into it. And if the seminar is successful, sushi for everyone. And if it fails…

If no one shows up, I'll blink away my tears, Bobby will asked what will make his wife feel better… With some thought, not too long or he'll suggest some action movie, not too fast or he'll know it was a set up. "maybe lunch and magaritas in Kemah" in a weak, fragile voice… I wonder if this makes me a self-motivational slut? If it does… COOL.

So here I go again. Wednesday I'll ask Bobby to schedule the next seminar and I'll get busy contacting folks. Why Wednesday? Why not tomorrow? Tomorrow I have to plan out my next 12 "failure days." First Kemah… We like Kemah, Then maybe lunch at the Black Lab & a walk through a museum… I wonder how far I can push this? Bbq lunch in College station… a trip to the factory outlets in San Marcos… a Night at our favorite Bed & breakfast…

This could work. My career my still be in the toilet, but I'll have a monthly date with my husband to look forward too.

Smart Pills

Lately I've been a little frustrated. I don't feel I'm as successful as my siblings. Bobby would argue that maybe it's our lifestyle or maybe he's  not working enough. I mean he only worked 48 hours last week, slacker.

 

And as shocking to him as it may be, the world doesn't revolve around him. My siblings are independently successful from their spouses. Their spouses are just eye candy. And since I was raised in the same house as my siblings, I was given all the same opportunities as my sibling, or so I thought. Deductive reasoning says I should be successful. Someone please explain this to my husband. I just married him for his looks and computer skills, it's public knowledge.

 

Last Saturday I had a revelation about my life. Growing up we lived all over the world. I think I was about two when we lived in Africa. Every now and then my dad will tell strange stories about our short but memorable time there. My favorite is that he had to commute on this tiny plane with farm animals…

 

Anyways, Saturday he told a story that I've never heard before. He said while we were there we had a house boy. And one week my mom tried to pay him, he politely declined and asked if mom could pay him in smart pills. My mom looked extremely confused and upon further questioning, he explained to my mom that he had heard that foreigners took "smart pills." Sad but a true story…

 

At first the story sadden me. Then a huge beam of light came on in my head, disturbing the dust and grey matter. What if he was right? What if there were such things as smart pills. What if in the early 70s there was a shortage of smart pills, only 2 per household. I'm not blaming my parents but if they had to pick… My siblings were already school aged… They probably prayed I'd just catch up later…

 

So there you go… Its not my fault I'm a almost-middle-age-unemployed-bad-at-military-games-depressed-freak. It was those smart pills, or lack there of. And this explains why my brother never cracked opened a book a day in his life…Spooky…

 

A minute after my husband reads this he's gonna call me and say "now that you finished ranting for the day don't you have 4 projects to finished?" yeah, yeah, what the hell is he gonna do? take it out of my paycheck?

 

It just amuses me. And y'all know its my new slogan. The guys are anxious to teach me a knew game. If I suck at it, "its not my fault… no…smart…pills…"