May 21, 2010 | Confessions, I Have Issues, Mama We're All Crazee Now, Music, Randomness, The Unexplained
Dear Grace,
I remember what the doormouse said, I just have no idea what to do with that information.
Love,
Sarah
Dear Grace,
I remember what the doormouse said, I just have no idea what to do with that information.
Love,
Sarah
Did I ever tell you that one time a psychic told me that I would marry a man whose name began with the letter “G”?
That was about 18 months before I met Gabe.
Creepy, right?
Then again, she also told me that I would live in the Pacific Northwest and work in textiles, so one out of three ain’t bad.
Okay, one out of three is pretty crappy, but still G was a good call. There aren’t that many boy names that start with a G: George, Geoff, Gabriel, Grant, Gordon. I’m sure there are many more but it isn’t like she said I would marry someone whose name began with an J or an M.
I suppose I could still end up in Seattle or Portland. I’m only 37. I have a lot of time left to move around.
But the textile thing, I’m just not seeing it.

My children believe in God.
That isn’t that big of a deal except that we aren’t very religious people.
My children believe in God and they like to tell me that. A lot.
Sometimes I think they like to rub it in because I am an Atheist, and while I support their beliefs I’m not really sure where they came from. None of their grandparents or parents currently practice any religion and if any of them have any strong beliefs either way they aren’t really talking about it.
My children believe in God and they believe that he is an invisible giant with no feet.
And I say If he is invisible how do you know he is a giant? And how do you know he isn’t a she? I want to be supportive. I want them to know that I am a well-wisher for whatever belief system they choose to ascribe to. I have chosen my own, but that doesn’t mean I think that they have to believe what I believe. I want them to be able to think for themselves. I want them to be able to choose for themselves.
My children believe in an invisible, giant God with no feet.
Their deity inexplicably has no feet.
And they are (well, at least the boy is) scared of the puppet devil.
And I’m not sure why.
I have no idea how to deal with that. How to I explain the the puppet devil isn’t real when they know I don’t believe in God either. I mean sure, I say, Well, he is a puppet. He is felt with some guys hand up in there. And they say Why can’t you see the guy? and I say Because he is squatting down where the camera can’t see him and that just isn’t good enough for them.
For right now my kids believe in an invisible giant God with no feet and the puppet devil.
And I’m not sure to what to do with that information besides tell you about it.
Last night I dreamed that I started smoking again.
It was such a realistic dream that I can tell you exactly how many cigarettes I smoked.
Three.
I woke up feeling terrible about myself.
When will this stop?
My Mom quit smoking in 1980. It has been almost 30 years and I remain under strict instructions that whenever the doctors tell her that she is going to die (she is fine now, she has been telling us this for years) I am to bring a carton of Newports to the hospital where she will smoke them one by one.
Yes, I know you can’t smoke in hospitals anymore. I am assuming we will be able to wheel her out to the smoking section or something.
My question for you is does this ever end? How long do I have to go without a cigarette before I stop having dreams about smoking?
They’re Here.
Really, they’re back.
And this time they like Beck.
Let me explain.
I had an incident about two years ago when my tv would just turn off all by itself. I blamed paranormal activity (not the movie, but the phenomenon). That all stopped when we got a new tv.
Coincidence? Probably not, but you never know.
Yesterday my computer started playing music when nobody was in the living room.
Honestly, I didn’t think a thing of it. You see, my husband downloaded this ap for his iPhone that makes his cell phone act as a remote for our iTunes. Usually he uses this function either to put on some music while we are having a nice family dinner or to torture me by putting on really shitty music from another room.*
Then I heard Gabe tell the kids “I think Mommy is playing a joke on us with her iPhone”.
But it wasn’t me. I was in the kitchen doing dishes.
It was strange, but I let it go.
Then today I came home from the grocery store to an empty house.
The empty house was listening to Beck.
I know for sure I didn’t leave any music playing when I left the house. In fact, I checked every light, both computers and the coffee pot before I left the house.
What do I make of this?
I figure there are several options:
1) I have a poltergeist.
2) My cats love Beck and figured out how to use iTunes. Apple software is very intuitive.
3) I have a stowaway – possibly hiding in a pile of laundry.
4) There is a disturbance in the force.
5) A glitch in the Matrix?**
6) I accidentally mashed a whole bunch of buttons and set my computer to open iTunes and play something of its choosing at random intervals.
I don’t know. Pick whatever sounds reasonable to you. For now I’m going with the poltergeist.


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