So, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy from a women’s retreat I attended in the redwoods of West Sonoma County. It’s that same feeling like indulging in warm milk and a blankie after you’ve torn your cuticle and it’s been throbbing for over an hour: Pure bliss, people!
Okay let’s play a guessing game…What’s the worst thing that could happen at the park while one is off frolicking with beautiful women in the redwoods?
Take your time...No, guess again…Nope… You give up?...K. I’ll tell you…
YOUR OWN TOILETS, SINKS, TUBS AND SHOWERS BACK UP IN YOUR OWN 800 SQUARE FOOT UNIT AND THE CHOCOLATE-COLORED SLUDGE GUSHES THROUGH YOUR BEDROOM, HALLWAY AND YOUR 45 SQUARE FOOT KITCHEN LIKE A RUSHING RIVER, THAT’S WHAT!
Oh, yes my lovers of all things precious like Wheel Of Fortune, ‘Buy One Get One Free’ coupons, and ‘free piles’ of junk left on sidewalk curbs… while I was basking in the inward/outward truths of my soul, my Wonder Woman in Adidas sweats was out in our Zen garden with the Roto-Rooter guy, let’s call him Dave, moving pagodas and Buddha head statues and making small make-shift barriers to keep the gurgling muck from licking the feet of my Quan Yin. Timing is everything and I had paid and reserved my spot at the retreat months in advance. Besides, when you immerse yourself in one of these ‘love-ins,” guilt just doesn’t have a seat in the circle.
So my fearless partner took it on and, well, the truth is pals…shit happens.
These are the little day-to-day precious moments that make the $400.00 bi-weekly stipend worth living. But in all seriousness, I ponder these things like timing and luck. I mean in almost 6 fun-filled years at “the park,” our own septic has never spewed like Mt. Saint Helen and when it finally does, I am on a yoga mat, inhaling patchouli, loving my belly and the sound of ‘Om.’ And in total honesty, thank you Jesus! Because it’s one thing to put on the latex, grab the bleach and a shovel and wipe it up on someone else’s fake grass, but it’s something completely to wipe it up on your own.
What are ya going to do? I mean it is what it is. And speaking to the “luck” part of it all… I have this tune buoyant and hovering around between my brows right now…
Shine on me sunshine, walk with me world it’s a zippity-do-dah day…I’m the happiest girl in the whole USA…
Yet, as life has it, I returned to a sick little trailer park pooch. She had abdominal pains that caused much howling for hours upon hours until I thought I was going to scream and take the Coors flip top to my wrist. It began around 8:00 a.m. yesterday morning, continued all day and throughout the night into the early morning of today and at some point, between my consumption of gin and ibroprofin, I took action. I wrapped her in her crimson fleece, laid her in the back of the car, popped in a Wrigley's Double Mint, and headed down the 101 at 4:00 a.m. The crying and panting finally ceased around Chular and it was like a colic baby finding her pacifier. By 4:40 I was in Gilroy and I thought, “What’s one more town?” and hit Morgan Hill by 5. She’s going to be okay but you know, situations like these take you right to the moment and the moment for me is JOY. No, it truly is. Whoops of delight and jubilation.
Blessed Be…and I mean it.