Just Tell Me Where To Go

Smart CompassA compass is as helpful to me as lipstick on a pig.

I need my buddy “Tim” to tell me where I need to go. Tim is the Englishman who lives inside my GPS unit and tells me what lane to be in and when to turn left.  He calls the freeway a “motorway” in an English (UK) accent. ( I don’t know why, but I find that cool)

When I turn too early, or not at all, Tim never hollers at me. He quietly re-calculates the route and instructs me how to get there from wherever I happen to be. Thank goodness somebody knows where I am!   So terrified of getting lost, I never drove anywhere outside of my town (on purpose), until Tim came along.

There are others* within my GPS that I can call on, who are entertaining, but tend to get on my nerves after 3 hours, so I usually return to reliable (and patient) Tim. Tim is not perfect. He often tries to get me to go strange and confusing routes. I guess these routes are shortcuts according to Tim, or he likes to mess with me. Either way, I ignore them when I happen to know where I am in relation to where I am going. This does not happen often, so when it does I feel pretty damn smart!

There are many voices I can buy from the website if I get bored with Tim.

* One is a Jamaican native who yells “turn the car around!” a lot. Then there’s Darth Vader – he tells me “your lack of faith is disturbing” when I don’t do exactly as he says. (I half expect to start choking) My granddaughter likes Billy Bob Thornton’s character from “Sling Blade” the best, who says, “Well, I guess you didn’t kill anybody” when you arrive at your destination.

Who tells you where to go?

photo credit: Su℮ ❥ via photopin cc

My Life is Pending

Sale Pending Sign  Guess what???  People are really taking my house!

We opened escrow Friday, and here it is Monday, and our agent has not called to tell us that the buyers were “just kidding”. By Thursday I hope I can stop holding my breath.

I have postcards from 3 moving companies proclaiming “free estimates” that I want to call tomorrow. And I have important lists to make.

Redundant to-do lists like:

  • Sort through >
  • Pack    >                EVERYTHING!
  • Clean   >

I don’t know whether to start changing our mailing address, or freak out.  Escrow closes in 45-days. When is that? I want to schedule movers a few days before that, and give my notice at work 4 weeks before that.  Where the Hell did I hide the calendar? I could use the calendar app on my phone – if I knew how.

Freaking out looks more likely by the minute.

Diary of a Nicotine Addict: Dancing

May 20th marked one year without a cigarette.  Whoopee.

I wanted to celebrate by having a couple – so my battle is not even close to being won.  Maybe battling with the Bitch is a mistake. She has proven to be the strongest and meanest one of us, many times over.

I came across this quote last week while preparing my sister’s eulogy:

Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness.  – Psalms 30:11.

I have dealt with my addiction (a.k.a. The Bitch) all wrong.

I translated the verse (into jodi-speak) in my head: Thou hast turned for me my mourning (stopped dwelling on the NOT having), into dancing (expressing and celebrating life): thou hast put off my sackcloth (kicked me off the pity pot), and girded me with gladness (surrounded me with gratitude).

Girl Wearing Boxing Glove
photo credit: kk+ via photo pin cc

I need to DANCE with the Bitch, not fight her.
Train for strength, watch the enemy, and protect myself. The Mohammad Ali kind of dancing.