3.20.20

Social Distancing notwithstanding, this has been an overwhelmingly busy week.

Last Saturday was my final social engagement. I had a huge event to attend that night, but it was cancelled. Early in the day, however, my friend had a small gathering in her home to bless the delivery of her baby boy, due anytime now.

It was International Pi Day. In honor of the perfect circle, she invited us to bring round things to place on her birth altar. I brought drums that we beat in unison during tearful readings that bonded us like witchy women’s circles can. And my gift was a COUP!

My friend is a Labor & Delivery nurse, but she started out a midwife. She has her babies at home, with a doula. I knew a commissioned, hand-made piece from a crunchy mama I know would be perfect!

My niece custom-made this for her: (It had sold online, so she quick-arted another!)

The energy of that gathering left me on a high that stayed with me for days. It was a wonderful reminder that I have a circle. I have community. I’ve surrounded myself with some key people that inspire me to breathe, to reach for the best in myself, and go forward expecting to find and attract the authentic, vulnerable connected-ness I feel.

Then… CRASH!!!!!

The sky didn’t fall, but the ground beneath us heaved violently, as if to shake off humankind and start over. On Mar. 18, I survived my third earthquake.*

Best of all – Seriously, you CANNOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP! – Moroni lost his trumpet. The angel Moroni atop the holiest of Mormon houses; indeed, the HOLIEST of the holies, The Salt Lake Temple – that Moroni dropped. his. trumpet!

moroni

Moroni lost his trumpet.

marko has moroni's trumpet

Marko took it.

It’s moments like these I wish I weren’t atheist. I want to believe in that God! That’s one gorgeous, omniscient sense of humor, and I’m on board! Are you serious? The world is ending and Moroni dropped his goddamn bugle. Fend for yourselves, suckas!

BEAUTIFUL!

So bear with me. I can’t be stopped.
viral moroniutah covid earthquake
i said trump pence
dona't tell my bishop

shaken not stirred
jesus to utah(I disagree, of course, with the meme-creator minimizing COVID, but that’s beside the point. But how ’bout that?! A freaking pandemic! Once every 100 years or so, they say, long enough for generational memory to be wiped clean. We will survive this, too.)

__________________________

*   7.3 Idaho, Mt. Borah – 1983 (Rexburg is 159 miles away.)
7.2 Los Angeles, Northridge – 1994 (smack dab in the epicenter! I worked at the
[decimated] Northridge Mall.)

corona virus

The last thing anyone wants is a virus on their crotch, but what’s done is done.

Jesus Wants Me For a Skinny Girl

MILO, The Final Chapter

It’s back on the bike for this broad! Saddle up!

May 6th email to insurer:

Subject: Please Cancel My Auto Policy

Hi, it’s Christie. I spoke with Valerie, who asked me to record what happened to my car.

On April 29th, it started acting sluggish on the freeway. I took it to my mechanic to learn that it’s burning oil. They put in 3 quarts and it was fine for a week. It started getting sluggish again May 5th, so a neighbor sent me to AutoZone for a diagnostic. He would look at it in the morning, today. Last night my friend followed me, just in case, and thank goodness! The undercarriage began to glow bright orange, and when I got to a convenience store (VERY CONVENIENT) we learned that it was actually in flames under the hood! We put out the fire and left it overnight.

Who does that happen to?!!! I’m glad I’m not dead, hell of an adventure. I really do have the best stories.

Today, I sold it. Done.

Happy Travels!

Tear-a-Part Auto Recycling
652 S Redwood Rd.
Salt Lake City, UT 84104

***

So the most exciting thing is that I listened to my angels, period. My gut kept telling me to ask my friend for help. She just moved in, barely breathing again with her feet on the ground, bless her. She’s a harried, hurried, newly-single, stressed-out, maxed-out mother of a lively 2-year-old boy.

I kept pushing it down. “I can’t bother her. I’ll be fine.” The neighbor guy reassured me Milo would be fine to get to AutoZone and back. I was nervous. He offered to come with me, but I don’t want to be alone in the car with an albeit helpful, kindly man I don’t know well. “Oh, I can’t bother her. He’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

They were screaming at me! *gut gut gut, pow pow pow* Listen!

My friend hates the “pop-in.” She’s reeling from a rancorous divorce, still in the process of wrapping her brain around such a jolting, scary new reality. She’s rattled. It was very hard for me to ask her to load her son into the car past 9 o’clock! My angels insisted, and somehow gave me the courage. They put my guilt away: It would be okay.

It was. She was happy to help.

I’m so glad my old, old friend is my new, new neighbor! MIRACLES!

These are my posts yesterday and today on ye ol’ Facebook, where I live my life:

5.5.13 “don’t ever dismiss your intuition. that siren in your belly is telling you the truth. listen, and you’re in for a thrilling adventure with a safe, happy conclusion. (sigh!) ignore, and you’ll figure it out eventually… the hard way. thankful for blessings tonight!!! thank you, [tagged friend], for sharing a miracle with me. WOW!”

5.6.13 “quick update: car burst into flames on the freeway last night. sold it for scrap. full refund on newly-paid 6-month insurance premium, so… there’s that, haha! just enjoying the comedy and the carma of it all. i’m tellin’ ya, don’t ignore intuition! thank god i asked my neighbor to help me. thank god she’s one of my oldest friends in salt lake. i wouldn’t have bothered her otherwise. what if i hadn’t asked her to follow me, “just in case”? thanks again, [tagged friend]! holy crap!!!”

***

They weren’t red-flagging the guy – though of course it’s good policy never to ride with someone you don’t know well. They were red-flagging the experience… yet to come.

And then… (!!!) Next, I remembered teasing my car earlier in the day. I even rough-drafted a blog about it that I was going to finish when this most recent issue was resolved. I could never have imagined this outcome!

I’ll post that now, as is, so it appears in order of date of composition: YESTERDAY! BEFORE BEFORE BEFORE!

You knew. Just chill out and take our word for it. We got you. You can feel us us. We are your angels. We are The Auto Club [named in 1993 when I “met” them on a road trip in my first car, The Perky Teal]. We are Source, Universe, God, Whomever, Creator, Heavenly Father, Mother God. We are your ancestors, your family to come. You hear us. It’s real. Relax.

OK!

(thank you thank you thank you!!!)
(i can hardly catch my breath! thank you!)

Right now I feel like my angels are saying, Hello, Dear One. Good job listening.

“Thanks! I feel really good about that.”

You’ll Know I’m Dead When The Noise Stops

Then again, if there were ever a spirit that could make itself heard, it would be me. So I’m not promising anything quiet… (in forty years when I die…)
quotebydalailama

“Listen or your tongue will make you deaf.” -Tribe unknown

I’ll be learning that lesson for as long as I live, and I’ll never quite master it. But I’ll get better! It’s fun, like a game.

Reframing

I came into this life keenly aware of what I didn’t get in the roulette and randomness of birth. I don’t necessarily remember feeling like I was owed bounty and ease, but I certainly recognized that I didn’t have it. What that created in me was a curiosity about those who did. That interest grew into entitlement. Resentment. I don’t know that I was jealous, quite, but it was inequitable to have been born a Have Not, and I knew it.

Today over lunch, I mentioned to a friend how I was always aware, even very young, that I had been robbed. I made it a joke over the years. “I must have been royalty in another life,” I’d say. “I was born to have a staff.”

Somewhere, that “lack” switched.

“Lucky me!” I said today. “For the last few years I’ve noticed how odd it is that I have so little, yet I always have enough. I have what I need, when I need it. Isn’t that lucky?”

“Well, you did that,” she insisted.

“How do you mean?”

“You’re always talking about how best to view things, the gift in this, the lesson in that.”

“I guess I do,” I remembered. “No wonder you call me PollyAnna.”

“No,” she corrected me. “I call you F***ing PollyAnna. I wouldn’t want to piss you off.”

“That’s wise” I agreed. “I do have edge.”

Then, neither of our cards worked to pay the bill. No, really.

I love good friends. I’M RICH.

Cheffrey

I’d gone a year without knowing where he died. A couple of weeks afterwards, I did go into the convenience store I suspected and asked if a man OD’d in their restroom, but I felt so gross as the words came out that I ran away. “Nevermind! I’m sorry!”

(“I don’t need to know where it happened,” I chided myself. “It certainly doesn’t matter to him. And why would I wish to put that picture in someone else’s head?” I felt disgusting and morbid for wanting to know.)

Around the anniversary mark Christine told me where he died, a few blocks east of the store I imagined. “I sit at the bus stop across the street every morning!” I exclaimed, delighted for reasons I don’t understand. “They’re tearing it down!”

“Oh, no,” she lamented.

“Are you kidding? Good riddance. He LIVED!”

The next day, I arrived early and wrote his name on the not-yet-demolished building, plus hearts and smiley faces. “Hi, honey!” I said to him every morning thereafter. “We always did share a twisted sense of humor. Why not greet each other here?”

Today, I lunched with friends kitty-corner from that place. When I drove by, I dismissed my intuition. “You’re just thinking of him because of the corner, Christie, not because he’s with you every time he crosses your mind.” But then I passed a license plate that read, “Chef On,” and if you’ve read other posts about Jeffrey, you know my culinary friend talks to us through license plates, too.

“Oh, alright then,” I teased us both. “Hi, honey!”

… uh… Ahem…

So Milo… About that… It was… *cough*sputter*… uh, “B” for Battery (also Baffoon).

“I paid 65 bucks for a tow? … For a battery?!”

“Yep.”

You might think I’m less angry with Phil less because I’m off the hook and my little Milo is not a lemon. (Rather, his owner is.) But Phil cost me a tow. For a battery! 🙂

B is for Beautiful, Be-hittin’-the-road-this-summer, Beat-that, Bwahahahahahahaha!

Thanks, Big-O!

I’m, Like, The Bravest!

And he’s, like, the hottest!!!

So temping at the dealership, this Adonis comes in all the time to detail our used cars. The first time I saw him I had to catch my breath. (I’m telling you, like, the hottest!) He asked where the old receptionist was. “I know nothing,” I shrugged. “I’m the temp.”

“That sounds like a movie,” he said. “‘The Temp.’ Actually,” he went on, “You look like you could be in a movie.”

Hm.

Luckily, knowing nothing, my blushing and stuttering could be explained as first-day-on-the-job incompetence and I pulled off Lovestruck pretty gracefully. I asked Darlene to help me, and he and I have been flirting ever since.

I decided I was done with waiting, so today as I wrote stock numbers and peg numbers, I grabbed a Post It and wrote my number. “So… there’s a movie I’d like you to see,” I smiled. “It’s called ‘The Temp.'”

He laughed, and then we talked and talked until I got busy and he had to get back to work. On his way out, he asked something but my phone rang again. I waved him off, saying, “We’ll talk, we’ll talk. Let’s go out.”

Weeeeeee!

Word On The Street

I sound like a redhead!

The lovely woman who’s been assisting me in this super fun assignment at a car dealership told me the most curious thing this morning. Her sister calls quite a bit, it seems, and said to her, “I just love Christie! What does she look like?”

Darlene described me.

“That’s exactly how I imagined her! You have to take a picture!” Ha!

As for the super fun position? In 2 days, the salesmen had given me a nickname (Tiny Dancer). In 2 weeks, I’ve had 2 dates with 2 different gents, and I get chatted up more here than I have in my entire life! Very reassuring for the 40-year-old ego…

So far, I’m 3 for 3 at being offered (in some cases, begged to take) the full-time position. Very reassuring for the professional ego…  

Wonder if I sound like I’m going gray. 🙂

Misadventures in Milo

I bought a new used car on October 30th. He has a sticker that reads “MILO MILO MILO,” and so earned his name and gender. We broke down today. Sixty-five bucks to tow to Big-O, dreaded diagnostic tomorrow. Come on, Milo! Come in under $300. You can do it!

happier times

happier times


(Feb. 1) It’s the starter. It was considerate to go out after I had run all my errands. Obedient, too. $250 and tax. Cheeky, though. With tow, that’s just over $300.

Good Milo. And let’s be honest. He’s not the first to act up. The first thing I did after bringing him home was remove the driver’s side mirror with the pole to my parking canopy.