Contrary to the belief (non-belief?) of my staunchly atheist cousin, I must assert: There is a God.
And He’s got a sense of humor.
All that spiritual woo-woo stuff aside, the proof is in the humor to be found while examining my life. To wit:
I read, I write. I think these things are important. I think everyone should be literate and love it.
Funny thing is: I have a dyslexic teenager who hates reading and writing. Especially reading. And yet still maintains an A(ish) grade in English.
I have had a lot of testing done here lately to determine if I have gallstones – which I do not. Still doesn’t explain why I have digestive issues.
Funny thing is: My husband is the one with gallstones. In one magnificently scary episode that warranted a trip to the ER, the tests came back conclusive for gallstones (and not heart issues, thank God) and he’s having his gallbladder removed next week.
I have determined that I am at the end of my gardening life – mainly because physically I can’t do what I once did and secondarily because no one at my house cares or appreciates it. It’s a lot of work and practically zero reward.
Funny thing is: I find myself on these dreary winter days pinning gardening stuff to my “Green Space” Pinterest board and otherwise seeking out garden-related web content.
I started this blog (and the one before it, now conscripted to the depths) in order to keep writing, daily.
Funny thing is: The minute I got a (semi) regular writing gig this blog became a ghost town. I suppose the argument could be that I’m still writing daily, but I’m not writing for myself. I’m writing for The Man. The Man Who Gives Me a Regular Paycheck, can we say amen?
The tug and pull of my daily life causes me to pause occasionally and examine the facts of the case. There is humor in contradiction, and the contrarian nature of my life is proof positive that Someone Out There likes to toy with me. I can’t take myself too seriously. What would be the point? –