My life is incredibly weird, no doubt about it. So much of it I just don’t bother to share, the small segment of the world that knows me doesn’t need any fuel on the “she is crazy cat lady material” fires. But sometimes I just have too open up about it!
Take for instance The Count. Remember him? Search if you don’t, over yonder in the box Looking For Something. He has an older brother who happens to work with my younger brother. Small world stuff, ya know? And in a city this size,what are the odds that his older brother would happen to cut the grass of my neighbor 2 doors down? Welcome to my insanity.
Then there is my own yard here at the Diva Den. The ex-hubster has a lawn care/landscaping business. My son-in-law works with him. Guess who cuts our grass? Yep, my ex-husband. It’s the plot for a fun novel, no doubt.
Recently I learned that the owner of the swing club I hung out in many moons ago is in prison. Now, Oz, as I used to call him (as in the Wizard of Oz who was all dog-and-pony-show fake), well nothing bad seemed to stick to him despite the many things he was doing. When I heard he was doing time, I actually felt kinda bad for the guy. He is not one I’d think would fair well in the Gray Bar Inn. Then I looked him up on the state inmate search, and this poor soul who had a real love for his very long haired mullet? Well the prison system, it would seem, makes you shave your head. Now I really did feel bad for the guy. Trust me, if anyone had reason to be glad he finally got what was coming to him, it was me. But I tend to forgive way too easily, and I’ve always had a soft spot for the underdogs and fools of this world. The bible pretty clearly spells out how we are to treat those in prison in Matthew 25, so what the heck, I wrote to him. We are corresponding. Odd I know! Now do I trust him? HELL no, but he is not a violent offender and everyone deserves someone to give a rats butt.
On my way home today I had an encounter of sorts with God. No, I did not spy Him in a bush or anything, don’t panic. I’m a tad warped but not certifiable. On payday I make up several cash gifts for the homeless. Two, $1 bills, folded in thirds that I carry in my sun visor and if I see a homeless person on a corner with a cardboard sign I give them one of those. It isn’t a lot but it is what I can do. I have been out of them for a week, and in fact yesterday had looked up and didn’t have any to give when I saw a needy man, and felt really bad. Today, I pulled up to a stop light and spotted a gentleman I see frequently, and felt bad I had nothing to offer. I glanced up at my sun visor and there was money. One single dollar bill, folded different from how I fold my $2 bundles. Crisp and new. I was quite shocked, but pulled it out, put the window down and handed it off to the man. I’m still in a befuddled state, as I know that I did not put that there. As I said, I fold them a certain way, and always and only $2. God works in mysterious ways, and I suppose this man really needed that $1. And I guess maybe I needed to see a wonder. 🙂
That is this weeks edition of YCMTSUT. See ya next week!