Friday, December 12, 2008

My lucky day? Really? That's it?

At my old job, a disability law office in Moscow (Idaho!), a man called. His voice sounded like a man who, if he wasn't already on disability for low IQ, soon would be. He wanted to know if he won the lottery, a really really big lottery, would he get kicked off disability. Your $500 a month wouldn't really matter in that case. But this man was concerned about it. After creating and explaining a few hypotheticals, I finally asked him why he was asking. "I was just at the doctor. He said that after my accident (gory details, should have been dead), and all those surgeries and close calls, that I was the luckiest man alive. And I've never played the lottery, but I'm thinking about it now. What if I AM the luckiest man alive? Well, if that's true, then I think I should play the lottery. It only makes sense." It only makes sense. Well, I think I need to adopt this man's logic, however low-50's-IQ-ish it may be. Perhaps I am the luckiest woman alive! Perhaps that's what all this is pointing to!

Well, it's definitely all pointing in the opposite direction I was expecting. All around.

Huck's dad need accompaniment to Whistler for the weekend, so Huck allowed himself to get dragged up that way. Meanwhile, we've decided to move. And we have a list of criteria. I got on Craigslist this morning and found something that fit. I called Huck and he gave the all clear (not because I'm not feminist enough or incapable of making these decisions, although that may in fact be true, but because he's at least as affected by these decisions as I am.) So I signed a lease today and now I have to move in two weeks. What?! REALLY! Did I just do this?!

So, starting tomorrow, or later, we are moving to an apartment, even smaller than our current one, over a garage, on an organic peach orchard, 15 minutes from town. We'll save $200 a month. And we feel that this is important. We're not having an emergency, but we are trying to avoid one in six months. There's a lake, a row boat, trails, and a commercial drying shed. They make wine. It turns out I worked with him at the farmer's markets in Seattle. We know the same people and she loved the bread I sold. Rent includes full use of the orchard when in harvest (they have no idea what they've promised!). They also garden down the rows and renters get garden space and free access to all harvested vegetables. I just got such a good feeling from the lady. She did too. She said she liked me so much she wasn't even going to check my credit. I was totally frank with her about our situation. I know I should have played my cards closer to my chest, but honestly, this is a person, this is her farm, this is her income. I wanted her to know what she was getting in to. Based on the bumper stickers completely covering the back of her car, we're definitely on the same page on a lot of things. But she was also drinking heavily at 3 pm. And Blue will have to change schools. So... I may have just made a HUGE mistake.

We left our new apartment in the season's first blizzard. New Orleans actually beat us. Coyote choked on hard candy, and I spun out on the highway in front of a semi. We weren't going to get snow tires, because we thought four wheel drive was enough. But it's not apparently.

We brought sushi to Blue's and Coyote's dojo potluck. Sushi is extremely exciting to make with the four-and-up crowd. But the event was down some distant road that hadn't been plowed. I tried to drive as slowly and carefully as I could down the twisty hill, but it didn't work. I drifted off to the right, landing softly in the snow bank. And so I wanted to go home. But the thought of having all that sushi for dinner, for lunch, for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, and also having to turn around on that hill, made me try to go down again. This went well for a couple of seconds. And then, in the dark, on a road we've never been on, lined with what (cliffs, lakes, rivers?) we knew not, our car began to spin in 360 degree circles and down. It was the scariest sled ride I've ever been on. I whimpered and cried. And Blue said, "Wow, we're really luck! We didn't die!" Lucky. Indeed. But then she's 7, she's supposed to have an IQ of 50.

What goes down must go up. But again, a week's worth of sushi pushed me forward. We eventually walked the rest of the way. The event was blacked out by a giant sinister cloud of FEAR that hung over me. We would simply have to live there until spring. So, doing as I do, I talked to everyone about the event. And when it was time to go, I had amassed 3 men in trucks with chains to help. One went ahead to test the road. The other drove my car. The other drove my daughter. And the fourth, the world's funniest dermatologist ever, caravanned us back out to the highway.

The men, however, did not inspire confidence. Each one said, "NO PROBLEM! I can do it!" This is not what I want. I wanted them each to carefully consider all the pitfalls and possible problems and to assure me that they had a carefully laid plan to deal with any eventuality. But no, they all said, "What's the worst that can happen?" You know, that's not a question you really want to ask me. I have a gory and over-active imagination. I can definitely think of the worst. And it will scare you.

About 10 years ago, my friend Scott told me that he thought I was afflicted with the ancient Chinese curse of "an interesting life." A definite possibility. To answer that, my current "Free-Will Astrology", advised: "the best approach to take with your knotty dilemmas is to welcome them as wild cards and X-factors that will bring you interesting experiences and valuable lessons -- and just stop worrying about them." Interesting. And Lucky, I'm sure.

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