Tuesday, June 12, 2007

The Ward For The Uninsured

I woke up thinking about the time I had tried to exercise using Campell's soup cans as dumbbells (a helpful suggestion from Redbook for getting those pesky biceps in shape) and had broken out in large red welts all over my chest and neck from holiday anxiety and general malaise, the death of my spirit, and about four too many servings of turtle cheesecake a day chased with Dr. Pepper. My heart was broken as I wanted to be home, as in with my family, and I was not, I was with my soon-to-be betrothed's family and they were pieces of work. This should have been home sweet home but it was not, and I was beginning to the get the idea that things were not going to work out for me, not one little bit, and like a real fool, I could not or would not get off the ride. Such is life! I wore a large cross on a piece of cheap suede for protection against the situation, like one of the priests from The Exorcists and did not realize that I was in fact allergic to the suede which served to further irritate the welts and hives, making them bleed from time to time without warning. So there I was with one can of Chicken Noodle, one of Tomato, and praying to God that nobody would see me alternately bleeding, sweating, and then pigging out. Given what else had happened in the house, I shouldn't have worried. Had anybody spotted me, I assure you that they wouldn't have thought twice.

Had I been deep into writing at this time, all the activity, including my own misery would have served as a consolation. Looking back, I think of my favorite scene -- where an aunt, her boyfriend, and his ex-wife all showed up for Thanksgiving dinner three hours late, all hopped up on speed, the grandmother yelling, You're all on drugs! Look at you! Hell, they'd all have to be on drugs to be in the configuration they were. The aunt and the ex-wife looked like twins, both dressed in crocheted dresses that revealed a lot of nonexistent cleavage given that they were skeletal. He was my husband, the ex said. Nothing changes that! I will go with him to every holiday. Whoa nelly! For a brief moment, I felt thankful to be me. Which I guess is the point of the holiday. It wasn't the moment of gratitude and grace that I'd given up expecting, but then again, it never is.

Michelle's Spell of the Day

"If you throw a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will leap out to save itself. If you put a frog in a pot and turn the heat up by degrees, it will die." American proverb

Cocktail Hour
Drinking novel suggestion: Black and White Dani Shapiro

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday!


FBI Agent Dwight Harris said...

The American proverb isn't as good as the "Serenity Prayer," by Reinhold Niebuhr, which we had to say every day at Notre Dame High School in Harper Woods, Michigan. Thanks for all your support of the Sopranos, Michelle. I'm glad I could help Tony out in the last episode.

Charles Gramlich said...

Moment's of grace are few and far between. Sometimes I think I'm still waiting to see my first one.

Cheri said...

Sometimes you are so distraught in life that every action you make is impulsive and obsessive, because your mind just goes into auto-pilot without any real concept of when to stop.

I love the jewelry in the picture.

eric313 said...

Frogs in boiling water will leap out to save themselves...

By degrees, my water is boiling. Wish me luck, I'm going to the doctor and I hate doctors so much.

Wish I had time to comment more, as your post is lively and graceful, and the pic is so wonderful. You have the nicest profile ever.

the walking man said...

One day the devil, the darkness will learn to quit fucking with me, because I never lose in battles of spirituality.

Such is the nature of living in fucking grace, the protection of God for man. what; just in the last thirty years it has made a failing attempt to silence me 10 times; 4 in the last 5 alone.

I will never get off the ride until I am allowed to breathe my last.

Until then that cocksucker ba'al or whatever name you choose for it will just have to keep swinging because no matter what; I will knock its attempt out of the fucking park every time and with it another piece of its desire to destroy that which is good.

fear nothing evil and everything evil will fear you and the frog that is being murdered will find a way to jump in to your pocket so you can take it to a place rich in whatever the fuck frogs eat.

Jon said...

Probably not a suede allergy...more like some kind of stigmata? Your reward for suffering?

eric313 said...

Today, I've been sampled more than a p-funk record at death row studios. And Friday morning will be training day at St. Joe's Mercy, home of the urgent and destitute patient. It may be a long wait for emrgency service, but at least it's free.

I'm glad you haven't changed much.

eric313 said...

And of course, your post is hilarious today. Too many good lines and the dialogue that just made the post roll. Hope your doing OK--you know, no hives or welts and all.