Just My Imagination

We’re back to our regular presentation of Friday Fragments – a random collection of things that occur to me during the week, too insignificant for their own post, but gathered here nonetheless. I join the great folks at Half Past Kissin’ Time in this endeavor.

* Thanks to those who expressed concern for Alex, who got hurt in his lacrosse game on Tuesday. It turns out it was merely a large contusion (which is big doctor talk for bruise, I think) on his hip. Unfortunately, it was located in the place where all your leg muscles originate, so moving was very painful for a couple of days. He’s feeling a bit better, and plans to participate in the game on Friday. Me? I’m planning to take tranquilizers.

* After my ill-fated experience with elastic and underwire on Tuesday, I was motivated to actually throw away the offending underwear. Of course, the minute I tossed it, I started worrying about what I was going to do the next time I’m behind on laundry.

* Why is it that the lawn goes from brown and dead to lush, foot-tall greenery in the blink of an eye? I think the major problem is that it’s been raining every day, which makes the lawn grow, but we can’t mow in the rain. By the time it stops raining, I may need to employ a hay combine.

* You know how they play sad music during the touching parts of a movie? I always wonder if it would still be sad if they played happy music? Picture it – the character is lying on his deathbed, and in the background you hear “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” or “I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it….” Personally, I think it would change the whole mood.

* Some of you know that I’m fascinated with true crime. I read books about it, watch documentaries about it – it’s kinda sick, I know, but I can’t help it. What you may not know is that I am equally fascinated by polygamy. I’ve read several books on the subject – mostly written by women who escaped the horrible existence in which they were living. The whole idea of this entire culture, complete with the brainwashing that accompanies it, is just mesmerizing to me. I can’t help but admire these women who overcome almost insurmountable odds to free themselves and their children. Their stories really are a testament to their strength and faith. The one I’m reading now is called ‘Daughter of the Saints.’

* I sent my birthmother a Mother’s Day card. I debated it (mentally) for a couple of weeks, but finally, I just did it. I picked out a simple, basic card – hope your day is pleasant, that kind of thing – and sent it, with no note, just my signature. Again, as I do so often lately, I regretted it almost immediately. I don’t want to pressure her unfairly, and I have sent her two letters already. Obviously, since she hasn’t responded, she’s just not ready, and may never be. I am determined not to become a stalker. It’s just that I haven’t had anyone to send a mother’s day card to for almost 10 years. And I wanted to acknowledge her on this first Mother's Day since I found out who she is. Regardless of how she feels about me, I’m grateful to her. See how I can rationalize anything? One of my many talents.