A Little Perspective, Brought to You by Goodwill

I would like to premise this by saying a few things. One, this really isn't my story to tell, but by being in a relationship with one who writes, I would say that you know that you are forfeiting your story-telling rights. Two, as my mom told me when I told her this story, "Sometimes I think things happen for a reason." and this totally did. Fate.

Jeremiah and I were waiting in line at Goodwill. He had vinyl and I had books. We were buying separately, so when the lane next to us opened up, I shooed Jeremiah over as "The next person in line! That's you! Go!".

When he got there, the young guy that was checking him out noticed the long scar going from Jeremiah's ear to mid-scalp. Checkout guy asked Jeremiah how he got the scar. Jeremiah told him. Turns out that the guy had had the same surgery for a tumor removal. What are the odds?

And then he said:

"What did you have to relearn?"

Jeremiah's reply was that he had not had to relearn how to do anything.

This guy had to relearn everything. EVERYTHING. He could not even walk.

What a humbling experience. For someone (sorry, Jeremiah) who has been so impatient with the healing process and so eager to be back to his presurgery state, I think it puts things in perspective.

Jeremiah was able to bike for the first time yesterday. 

We are so lucky.


Who Can It Be Knockin' On My Door?

The police came to our house this morning. While I was still upstairs resting/sleeping. My first thought was, "Damn it. What the hell did Jeremiah do?" Which is redonk, because Jeremiah is like, a boy scout. But we all have our pasts, and you just never know*.

My second thought was, "I need to put on pants." as currently I was donning a t-shirt that I have had since I was 12 (If you were to think that means it has a lot of holes, you would be correct. A large piece of Swiss cheese would have offered more coverage.).

And on an aside, when I was in Vegas last week (Vegas, Baby!), a co-worker said she would be stopping by my room every morning and I was all, "If it takes me awhile to answer, don't be alarmed, I am just putting on pants." Then it occurred to me that this co-worker did not really know me that well, and it was probably more information that she wanted. And also? She might not stop by for fear of catching me without pants. And then I could wipe out on the tile floor in the bathroom and hit my head and DIE and no one would know.

Seriously, I can't be the only person who puts on their pants right before they head out, can I? I get my top half ready (hair, make-up, shirt) and THEN I put on pants. If I had nicer thighs and hips I might just forgo the pants altogether. Such a pain.

Anyway, the police came to the door this morning.

After I got over the fear of not having on pants and wondering what secret life Jeremiah might be leading, I got curious.

Me: Well???
J: They wanted to know about the neighbors.
Me: Smokey Smokersons? Those would be the creepy neighbors with the hound.
J: No, the house across the street. They were wondering about the cars parked and if there was a woman there and blah blah blah blah...So I told them blah blah blah blah...
Me: Silence for a bit. Jeremiah?
J: Yeah?
Me: You realize that you gave them wrong information? The neighbors you just told them about moved out over a year ago. They don't even live there anymore.
J: Shit.  So that's not the same truck?
Me: No.
J:Maybe I should go tell them what you told me.
Me: You think?

He came back in and told me that he told the police "That the one with the memory told me I was wrong, here's what is really happening at that house..." and the police told him that MY version of the neighbors matched another witness's/neighbor's story.

Now I am super curious about what is going on up in this neighborhood. Tell you what. We make every effort to be neighborly to two of the most normal neighbors on the street. Stick together. My new motto.

*At some point, I may share with you the time bounty hunters came to the house in the middle of the night with all sorts of weapons and scaring me almost to death. Having your house closed in on? Not a great feeling. I thought Jeremiah was at fault that time, too. He was not. And he loves the amount of trust I place in him.


Thank You, Netflix

It isn't too often that I feel the need to express my gratitude to a large company, especially to a company that has raised its prices significantly out of pure greed.

But here goes.

Netflix, I just want to thank you for categorizing the movie "Ghost" in the Thriller category, when it most obviously should be placed in Romance. That way, when Jeremiah asked what movie we were getting, I was able to be like, "Oh, we are getting Ghost. Haven't you seen it?" He had not. "You will LOVE it." I said. "It is the absolute best romantic movie, oops, I mean, the best thriller movie."

And then Jeremiah was like, "Wait a minute..." when we were watching it.

So thank you.

Hugs & Kisses,

p.s. Dear Friends, two things. One, Jeremiah admitted at the end that it wasn't too bad. I was like, duh. I mean, Whoopi, Demi, and Patrick?! Classic. Two,  As I write this my weird neighbor (who was upset because his yard got wet) is using a leaf blower to clean off his patio. There are no leaves. Or anything. Just the ashes from his cigarettes. At this rate, Jeremiah and I will die of second-hand smoke as he is out there all the time and the wind always blows it into our yard.

p.p.s. Favorite Movie?? I will go first. And probably last. I could watch Grosse Point Blank a trillion times. "You know, I guess it's true what they say. You can never go home again...But I guess you can shop there." Ooh, or you could just put your favorite movie QUOTE.