When the Clock Goes Crazy…

 

 

*This post is not sad, sorry, or whiney; crazy, yes. Anything else, not so much.*

Truth is stranger than fiction. I don’t know if you have a “clock” thing, but I do. I don’t wear a watch just because. When I do look at a clock – in the car, at home, wherever – nine times out of ten, it reads, “11:11“. I have a clock that belonged to my grandmother; it works, but always stops at the time of her death, no matter what. I just use it as an accessory. Unwound. It has been my experience, when a clock goes crazy, so goes everything else.

Last Friday, I noticed the enormous clock in my kitchen was crazy. Twenty minutes behind, then an hour ahead. I didn’t even think about the clock crazies. It can be good crazy, bad crazy, mixed crazy – but crazy, regardless. Sort of like me. Sharing:

  • My family of origin has been playing hospital tag for the past year. I’d planned on going to the farmer’s market Saturday morning.  Instead, was sitting in the ER. Hollering, “MORE MORPHINE, NURSE HOLLY”, as the patient was in severe pain. She was very accommodating. We are the Loud Family. I noticed there were four people in the room across from ours. And only the nurse was speaking. Being the Nosy Otis I am, I looked in there; everyone in the room was signing. How do you scream, “morphine”, in sign language? Before I pushed my bossy self in “to help”, a patient advocate appeared and all was well. In that room.

 

  • Ok, so Mother’s Day Brunch was not happening. Miss Peach (eldest daughter) and I went to the hospital. Where I got to storm the nurses’ station, with the same request, “MORE MORPHINE, NURSE HOLLIE”. Two nurses, same name … what are the chances? Peach and I left, picked up some food, and came home. Then a crazy beautiful bouquet of flowers are delivered to my door. On Sunday. From Miss Peach. Love. But Miss Peach says they are wrong. They look right to me. Then I get a text from McPaddie’s beau. McPaddie is youngest, texting, calling, emailing me love bombs from the basement of her house where she is trying to finish last project for graduation. Bless her bones. Her beau’s message was also crazy beautiful – to a mother’s eyes. It said, “Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for McPaddie“. Crazy good. Love my girls. Went to bed at 4 pm.

 

  • Morphine. Cowgirl explained hospital morphine to me; apparently it is diluted somewhat – not pure. So you can ask for it a lot. Good to know.

 

  • Monday was Pro Flowers Day. I called customer service, told them the arrangement wasn’t what Peach ordered; they were lovely and another bouquet was on the way.

 

  • Tuesday was big crazy. Patient to be released from hospital, no diagnosis, but no pain. Rah!? I get to go to see Lien. She makes my hair look amazing – even though it is not amazing as I am growing it out. Last month, I looked like Justin Bieber before he cut his hair. When I got to her salon, she seemed fine. She had to excuse herself, mid-cut, for about 20 minutes. I think she’s preggers. For the first time ever, she phoned in the hair. I left looking like Dan Fogelberg (RIP!). A tall, skinny, white woman does not look good with Justin or Dan hair. That’s ok, she wants to be pregnant and I can wear a baseball cap for three more months (her estimate).

 

  • Am failing mightily at this housekeeping thing. So today I walked into my dry cleaners/wash-n-fold for the first time in two years and handed over the laundry pile. Standing behind the counter is my favorite friend, Pung. She screamed, “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Pung and I have history. We have laughed a lot, we’ve cried together, I love her. Crazy good reunion. She wants to get pregnant, too. What is in the air?

 

  • Ding Dong. Pro Flower delivery. Open that big green box up and … oops, not what Peach ordered. Got back on the phone with customer service (they are so nice). And another bouquet is on the way. If this continues, my house is going to resemble a funeral parlour. Not complaining. I love flowers. So, crazy good because Pro Flowers has excellent customer service. Taking extras to patient’s home. Win-win.

In between, my friend sent me a great piece of writing I love by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. She’s very cool and I feel good when I read her writing. Am also reading essays by Regina Brett and enjoying her writing thoroughly. Am thoroughly pissed off at Angry Birds Rio/Rovio/Apple/Blue Sky Productions/ Chillingo because the promised May update hasn’t appeared. So I guess that makes me an angry bird.

I must go as I am very busy. I must pray for family health, great friends, babies for Lien and Pung, deliver flowers, take the damn clock off the wall, and remember to be thankful for good crazy, healers, calm during storms, good writers, amazing daughters, baseball caps, and anything else I will remember after I push the Publish button.

Favorite quote today: “If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come” (Chinese proverb)

Off to mop the kitchen floor. Tomorrow. Maybe. Or not.

Later.