Something happens to you when you realize that today you shouldn’t have a face. Or part of your arm shouldn’t be there either if the world according science always works the way it should. And that’s just the thing though: the world never seems to work the way it should. It’s the “should” and “does” difference, tension, that makes us crumple up sometimes and just feel like giving up or that startles us into complete mouth-gaping silence. But sometimes that difference between what should and actually does happen is a joyful good thing. And sometimes, it’s just plain crazy.

On the good front, I received salve-words from a dear friend who gave them when he really should not have had time to do it. Healing words are hard to come by, you know.

Also on the good front, I received a meme from
Des, which proves not only that she still likes me in spite of the danger I put her in but that she doesn’t look like she has any intention of kicking me out of our shared abode.

People In the Sun gave me this other meme as well, which was incredibly kind of him, but I am not quite sure what it means. If you have a blog that has the power of schmooze, does it mean that you walk around with your face puckered up or do you just know how to kiss people’s behinds? Either way, it’s a very cool little sticker thing that I am grateful to receive even if I suck at playing along at these meme award games. I like too many people and their blogs to choose!

And back to the crazy:

Something I discovered last week and Monday: I am Superman’s long lost sister and there is a wrinkle in the universe over which Murphy’s Law has complete authority and it has my name on it.

Last Thursday I was on the phone with my big buff little brother whilst going through the Chevron Car wash around 10pm. Though Honda died while the machines were blowing water all around it like crazy, she turned back on when it was time to drive out and go through the Hurricane Hugo-strength dryer. As my bent hood began to shake with the intensity of the blower, Honda shuddered and stopped. I tried the ignition. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. I tried pumping the gas like crazy (fumes!) but nothing.

“Uh, Liam. I’m stuck in a gigantic blower, I’ll have to call you back.”

After the sixty seconds that was my turn in the dryer, there was a brief pause before the car behind me (which was exiting the wash) would need to run its car through the dryer. I jumped out and tried pushing the car. No dice.

I should mention: I was wearing a skirt. A skirt that was not behaving as it should and kept riding up as I tried pushing an entire car out of the….

And then the dryer turned on again.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.

I jumped back into the car. My car was again shaking and then I couldn’t get the door to open. I pushed and pushed against the wind—the driver behind me dashed out of his car into the sprays of the wash that started behind him (and uh, those things MOVE) and ran toward my car. An attendant, who finally noticed there was a backup of vehicles clogging the machinery, ran through the wind and wash and helped the other driver push my car out. Before my car was out of the wash, the other driver had lost his sun glasses and cell phone in the man-made typhoon, poor fellow. Both were retrieved but that’s how intense those blowers are.

Fortunately the gas station attendant jumped my car and all was good. Except he connected his wires wrong on his battery so when I thrust the clips on the other battery knob there was QUITE the spark. I was fine, despite the voltage, which is yet another reason why I just might very well be invincible.

I say that because just on Monday night another Murphy Moment occurred.

I decided, randomly, that it was going to be a barbeque night. So Little D and I went to the store, bought supplies, returned home and set to work over our leeetle charcoal barbeque.

Charcoals take for. Ev. ER to finally turn white.

So while Little D and Des and Linds went for a run I decided to speed up the process. I took the lighter fluid, which I had already used on the now-lit coals, and began to squirt more over the charcoals. This kind of lighter fluid is somewhat gel-like, rather thick, and allegedly environmentally friendly, which is why I bought it. It also ignites with the passion of a nitroglycerine plant.

As I squirted the fluid over the coals the stream of gel caught on fire, burnt itself up into the bottle and KABAAAM!! the bottle seemed to sneeze an explosion. It collapsed then re-inflated in less than thirty seconds. In my startled state of shock I stared, wide-eyed, at the bottle that was now burning out of the top.

It’s. Going. To. Blow.

Omygosh, Omygosh, Omygosh, I kept saying over and over as I held that thing and wracked my brain for ideas to get it out. A whole bottle of lighter fluid? On fire? Easily put out? Not with water…not with sand…..not that I had any sand or water around me anyway…..

So I did what anyone would do in that instance.

I blew on it. Like a birthday cake.

And I kid you not---

The bottle of lighter fluid went out. Just like that.

“Oh Lord you are good to me….I mean….you would still be good even if I didn’t have a face or arm right now or if I had just blown up the apartment, yes, yes, I realize that, but in my type of definition of good for TODAY this moment…miracle-like-things….you’re good in that way…at the moment…ya know…if you don’t mind me putting it into those terms and I know you don’t...” I sputtered out under my breath like Mikey in Goonies when he wheezes his thoughts to One Eyed Willy.

I then set the bottle to the side. Far away. Isolated on the cement patio. And marveled at its melted, bent, collapsed side, its still fluid-filled cavity, and my perfectly intact state of being.