Remember when I said it might be nicer for us if I post shorter things about whimsical things? You don't? I said it two weeks ago. Go down there and look.
Here is a fun thing for you to try if you are reaching your personal "fill line" as I call it, and wish to dabble in superstitious, quirky behavior that will make your kids wonder if you're eccentric already.
For reasons not worth mentioning, February was a trying month for me and come to think of it, most people I know except for my mother. (My mother's biggest complaint last month was the sound of Ted Cruz's voice. And appearance. And philosophy. And everything else. Off television, however, things were good for her). Gus also did well in February.
|"I always do well."|
---Gus Bonifant, writer cat
But for the rest of us, there were unhappy surprises, there was not enough good news, and because I care about my loved ones, ups and downs in their lives inevitably became my own.
February started off as a three hour tour, and, well, you know that rest of that story.
But it's March now, it's off to a good start, and we appear to be off the island.
I'd like to thank my clock.
I practice a superstitious behavior which is this: when the hours and minutes of the time match, I wish a thing for someone who's having trouble, courage, strength, patience, a sense of humor, like that. I don't plan it of course, or watch the clock because that would be odd.
I haven't studied my results, but in my wishful opinion, if someone seems at risk, and I wish them a good thing, and things get better, or don't get worse, I credit my clock thought.
It also keeps my mind off my own personal fill line, to think about someone else's.
Some days when I'm paying more attention than others, I catch it frequently: 1:11, 2:22, etc. Everyone gets a good, healing thought from me and I feel like Spirit Santa
At lunch with my son recently, I held out my phone when the numbers matched and said, like a pre-eccentric person, "Quick, make a wish!"
He looked at me.
"No," he said. "That doesn't work."
Says you, I thought.
"It only works when it's 11:11," he said.
If you are a loved one, or even a liked one, or, okay, if you're just a nice person I read about in the paper today, and the weather's started getting rough, and your tiny ship was tossed, you'll be on my list for clock thoughts.