Catching Fire

There is nothing quite so frightening as fire. I found that out for myself last week when my house caught fire. It was the middle of the night when an electrical outlet shorted out. Fortunately I happened to be awake and saw the flare from the arc and heard the pop. I got out of bed and rushed to put out the fire by dabbing it out with a kitchen towel.

It was only then that I called 911 to get the fire department. They came and made sure that the fire was completely out. It had been small enough so that I was able to stay in my home -- with no electricity. I was shaking from the adrenalin rush and was unable to sleep, even after the hour it took me to get the cat inside.

When morning dawned I was faced with finding an electrician. Naturally, when one came I found out that my home needed a complete rewiring so that the 57 year old wiring wouldn't keep trying to burn my house down. To do this in the standard way would mean having to remodel the entire interior of my home. There was no way to afford that,so I went with the less expensive total rewiring option and now have shiny metal cords running through the house along ceilings and walls. It isn't the prettiest way to do things, but oddly, it is already beginning to feel like this was the way it has always been.

It was one of the scariest things that ever happened to me -- and yet amid all of this there are so many blessings. I am blessed that it was a small fire. I am blessed that I was awake when it happened. I am blessed that I was able to put the fire out quickly. I am blessed that the fire didn't spread. I am blessed that the electrician was able to come and do the work right away. I am blessed that a wonderful angel came forward to pay the bill -- and that others also offered help. I am blessed that the cat is fine and that I only suffered a bruise on one foot from tripping over something. I am blessed that I didn't lose any of the food in the fridge . . . It goes on. . .

Being fortunate isn't about never having bad things happen in your life. It is how you view them in the aftermath. It is how you handle the event. Shit does happen to everybody in varying degrees.

I have chosen to re-frame everything in my life in terms of love and gratitude, with a strong side of prayer. If someone is rude to me I try to remember that beyond me their world could be falling apart. If someone cuts me off in traffic I try to remember that they could be rushing to the side of a loved one (or a bucket of chicken). Then I thank God that being cut off did not result in an accident.

So, basically, strange and crazy as it sounds. I am thankful that my house caught fire. You just have to hear the reasons before you decide I need a straight jacket. Or a padded cell. I'll be visiting my therapist tomorrow, so I've got that part covered.

What's In A Name? Beyond The Boobs

Everyone knows that both men and women have private parts that they tend to name. These parts are the ones that demonstrate the difference between men and women. As I was sitting in the bathroom today (which is where I do my best thinking), I began wondering about this.and why I should limit it to the Honeydew Twins (a couple of nice melons).

Choosing a name for other body parts is not something that comes naturally. You have to take into

Clinton and Reagan

consideration the natural traits of said part, which part it is, your relationship to that part, and your own sick personality for wanting to name your body in the first place. Have I totally over-thought this? Oh, yeah!

The first was my belly. It is far to much a major part of my life and it is big. Far bigger that I would want. So she became Bertha Big-Belly. That was easy. Now, the butt. Not as big. Overall, probably the closest I come to having anything that could be called "skinny." This one wasn't as easy, but I had it. "Back-sida Ida."

I reached into 1920s slang to call my knees "The Bees." The bees knees was a  phrase that was used to indicate something wonderful. The Bees have been a wonderful source of support all my life.

After that they started coming more easily (and at times strangely). My hands are Clinton and Reagan (left and right respectively -- Hillary and Nancy). My arms are Huggy Bear and Snookums. My feet are the Walkers. That is not just a name, but an encouragement to keep doing just that. My legs are Starsky and Hutch. No reason -- it just sounds fun.

My head and brain are the A-Team (although some days it shifts to the Twilight Zone).


This is about where I decided where I should really stop before someone decides that I need to be institutionalized.  I named just one more -- my face. I have chosen to call it Kenley..This is an homage to the two people who gave me this face -- Ken and Shirley.

By the way, did I mention that I have OCD? Not officially, just as a hobby. Next up? Traffic lights I have named.

Oh, how I wished I was kidding.