Daily Horoscope 2

Today my horoscope says: “Try not to become irritable.” Pretty cryptic, that.

Need additional elaboration from Sage Master Shih Cheng-Yen.

Still Thought # 41 goes:

Many drops of water make a river, many grains of rice make a large basket; do not underestimate your own potential, and do not think of any good deed as too small to do.

Resolve to say nothing but these exact same words for the rest of the day. Anticipate having the following possible exchanges:

Possible Conversation # 1:

Hubby: “When are you going to sell a book so that I can quit this job that is making me so miserable?”

Self: “Many drops of water make a river.”

Possible Conversation # 2:

Son: “When are we going to the City to see the big Christmas tree in Union Square?”

Self: “Many grains of rice make a large basket.”

Fortunately, I had an opportunity to put this resoultion into practice this morning, shortly after hubby got up:

Actual Conversation # 1:

Hubby: “You fell asleep with the TV on last night. I had to come out to the living room to close it.”

Self: “Do not underestimate your own potential.”

Hubby: “What?”

Actual Conversation # 2:

Hubby: “Why is the remote not working?”

Self: “Do not think of any good deed as too small to do.”

Hubby: (snorting with disgust) What?

EXCELLENT.

Sort of a “Blah” Post …

Today my hair is red. I never know what Erly of Shear Beauty will do to my hair; I pretty much leave it up to her. I haven’t been to see her in four months. She said, “Let’s go dark. With red highlights!”

OK, I said. I’m always up for anything.

Last time I saw her, I said I wanted to go dark, and I came out blonde.

So today she said, “We’ll go dark”, and I thought, we’ll see.

But — hey, I came out a redhead! Went home, neither son or hubby noticed, they were too busy watching Anchorman. I sat and watched with them for a little bit. Was lucky enough to catch Will Ferrell, Paul Rudd, and assorted buddies in joint sing-along of Captain & Tennille song.

“Hey, that’s by Captain & Tennille!” I exclaimed.

Who?” son said.

I repeated, “Captain & Tennille. That’s from the 70s.” (Why do all my references these days seem to be from the 70s?)

Son left shortly after to take a friend visiting from Cal Poly to dinner at fave restaurant Juban, in Menlo Park.

I sat in front of his computer, absently rooted around in his bag of candy, and realized — I’d eaten all the Nestle’s Crunch, all the Butterfingers, and even all the Babe Ruths, which are probably only my fifth favorite candy. Son must be leaving soon. Which he is, in less than a week. Depression.

But, all is not lost. New Poets & Writers came yesterday, and I was able to highlight a gazillion things I can busy myself with applying for. Even though I never win, never even place, merely planning to apply makes me feel somehow like a “real” writer. And I end up with at least a dozen new subscriptions to magazines like Gulf Coast and the Bellingham Review.

Anyway, thanks be to God, hubby was so depressed (about his job) that he conked off early. I’d just been about to open a bottle of champagne (one of those we had left over from A’s baptism), but I left it unopened on the counter because it is just no fun having champagne by oneself. Instead, happy-happy joy-joy, got to watch two schmaltzy movies back-to-back on TNT (Is Dec. 30 the night for schmaltz? Who makes those decisions? The boss of TNT, probably.): City of Angels (Nic Cage, Meg Ryan) — at the end of which cried; and The Family Stone (Sarah Jessica Parker, Dermot Mulroney, Diane Keaton, Claire Danes), at the end of which also cried.

Excellent.

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