Searching For An Open Portal

The end of July has brought a triad of unfavorable events, one right after the other — snap, snap, snap…

I feel like it might be about time to run to the forest, search for a circle of rocks, tune into a different frequency, and step into a completely different dimension.

If only I knew the magic words to reveal the gateway to somewhere else. I don’t feel exactly enchanted right now…

The day after I brought home those adorable Lagerfeld heels, I broke a toe on my laundry room doors so I won’t be wearing them for a while.

Somehow, I entered into another inadvertent situation, and by that I mean, my innate carelessness subjected me to a dumb unthinking bizarre accident. I somehow injured the ulnar nerve on my left hand, which can be way more painful than you think! Because it really hurts, I had to get a brace to protect and immobilize my hand as I kept aggravating the Cubital Tunnel Syndrome/ulnar entrapment.

Do you see it? That freaks me out JUST A LITTLE because “ulnar” is “lunar” and I’m desperately and compulsively trying to discern if that’s a MESSAGE from the universe — or not –and what it might mean on a cosmic level.

And finally, since I have a history of skin cancer and have undergone Moh’s surgery, I had my six month check with the dermatologist and she discovered THREE areas on my face and nose that were problematic. I have to use this gross cancer cream, (which is really chemo) for two weeks. It’s brutal, as it causes my skin to sorta look like I have leprosy — not a pretty sight, that’s for sure, and I can’t go out in the sun at all. DAMN those summers spent tanning on the beach because now I’m paying the price.

I’m not really complaining though, because things could be worse. I mean, they ALWAYS can be worse, right? At least I’m balanced–right toe broken, left hand injured, the exact same spot I broke a bone in 2013 when I ran up the hill to look for a coyote; slipped and fell in the ditch. BALANCED.

I hopehopehope August brings happier news and maybe I’ll finally find the key to unlock that door to another dimension, maybe to a day before I broke my toe or the day before I aggravated the ulnar nerve or before…never mind.

On the other hand, I’d be overjoyed if I could stuff my little toes into those shoes…

Blink! Is it Magic? đźŞ„

At one point, Angel Boy 2.0 would often ask me to do something for him; for example, he’d ask me to reach something or make him breakfast or a snack or to play MagnaTiles, anything really, and he would become incredibly impatient if it didn’t happen RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

As an impatient type myself who wants everything RIGHT NOW, I totally understood.

Instead of getting angry or telling him to wait, I started to say, “BLINK.”

It was enough of a distraction the first time I said it that he stopped and said “WHAT?”

I repeated myself, “Blink.” I mean do it, really BLINK YOUR EYES, OK?”

He blinked and looked at me.

I said, “Did anything happen? Am I magic? Do I possess magical abilities?”

He slowly shook his head…nope. (I’m sure he thought his grandma was totally cray, and he might be right, but he was engaged and interested.)

“Well, I wish I could blink my eyes so that what you want would happen in the blink of an eye, and since it obviously did NOT, it’s going to take as long as it takes. What do you think about that?”

He laughed and I did, too.

It must have been the perfect response for him because we’ve continued the tradition.

“BLINK! Did it happen? Nope, not for me either. I’m still not magical, I guess, still only human.”

It was a more fun way to get my point across that he could be a LITTLE more patient. I think I got the idea from watching Bewitched. Although I can’t twitch my nose like Samantha, I can blink my eyes.

Angel Girl recently did the same thing as I mended a torn dress for one of her dolls. Watching me, she kept impatiently repeating, “Are you finished, are you finished, why is it taking you so long?”

“Blink, girl. Blink your eyes. Is your doll all sewn up yet?”

She blinked and shook her head while her brother nodded with all the wisdom of his 7.5 years.

“See”, I held out my hands. ” I’m not magic. These hands of mine can only sew one stitch at a time and if you want me to do a good job, it’s going to take as long as it takes.”

It’s not like I have the powers of Bianca in Wishenpoof, the story about a young fairy girl who grants children’s wishes, although SOMETIMES I do swirl my arms around and say “Whish” like she does in the show, but sadly, I’m still not magical. Not at all.

No matter how many times I blink MY eyes, I’m only human.

It’s all going to take as long as it takes. Lesson learned. 🪄