I would like to extend my most sincere apology to you if you stopped by the last day or two and found nothing new to read...except Monday's old news, which really wasn't news at all.
I've been in a funk, a slump, a pile of poo.
And not necessarily in that order.
I'm uncomfortable in my bland skin, I hate the feeling of dull.
I'd much rather be like a sparkler.
Than a dud.
Of course sparklers can get you into trouble.
Sorry mom...didn't mean to conjure up any bad memories or anything.
I don't remember who's idea it was to light the sparklers in the house using the kitchen stove.
I do remember running them through your house trying desperately to get the popping bits of fire out the back door.
I tried to contain the hot sizzling jumpers in my tiny hand.
In our defense, we weren't allowed to play with matches.
Your new linoleum was pretty messed up with pock marks from the hot sparkles.
I'm pretty sure it was Susan's fault.
(But don't tell her you heard that from me).
Last night I was laying upside-down on the couch, legs stretched and feet resting on the back. My head was on the floor...I was hoping the bag of fudge stripped cookies resting in my gut could morph into a pile of feel good endorphins, then rush to my brain and help me feel better.
Do rushing endorphins feel anything like a stroke?
I quickly decided I didn't care for the head rush and I righted myself.
I thought a walk might help.
Instead I ate a pound of super sharp cheddar cheese and a small bag of salty Sun Chips.
When it was too dark for a walk I thought about riding the exercise bike.
Instead I ate a hand full of Rolos and some stale gumdrops (Googie, don't bother asking about my stash...its bone dry).
Then I staggered upstairs, drunk on sugar and carbs to the computer room where I skipped around a bit from website to website until I remembered that Bear's Senior All Night Party was online...
He wanted me to see the clips of he and his classmates being hypnotized.
I wasn't sure I could believe that the kids were really hypnotized...until I saw my son.
I watched as my normally painfully shy boy jumped for joy and then cried when he got all the numbers to a winning $50,000.00 ticket the lady hypnotist had handed him.
I held my hand over my mouth and watched as he reacted to losing the Miss America beauty pageant.
I know that pout, and it was real.
I literally cackled when he and the others "lost" the number seven.
The hypnotist put them all to "sleep", woke them up and then did some math with them.
She had them count the fingers on their hands.
Ten was the number they all agreed on.
As sure as they were of their own names they knew they had five fingers on each hand.
Then she put them back to sleep and told them that they would not remember the number seven.
She woke them up and asked them each to count their fingers...
They would stretch out their hands and begin...flipping a digit at a time, one...two...three...four...five...next hand..six,
Ahhh, yes eleven.
They were in agreement.
She asked them to do it again.
Each and every one looked perplexed as they came again and again to number eleven.
Each and every one of them hesitated when they got to what should have been number seven.
They looked momentarily confused and then made the decision to leave seven behind and keep on until the job was done...
Eleven..they were as sure as they were about who they were that the fingers on their two hands added up to eleven.
Then the hypnotist had them go back to sleep. She instructed the ones she tapped on the knee to remember number seven once again.
Those few tapped were asked to count again.
They shook their heads up and down and nodded to each other...."yep, 10" they said.
The others, not yet tapped, looked down at their hands and still were getting eleven.
On some level they knew that they should be getting ten and this was throwing them for a loop....
Maybe that's my problem...I'm missing number seven.