I made it through the day. Remarkable. The deck is completely gone so I MUST NOT GO OUT THE BACK DOOR because I will fall and break my neck, midwifery bags flying.
Sean says because my car has been in (count'em) three accidents, we're done. No more trips to the collision place where I am on a first name basis with everyone.
Is my car jinxed? Ok, time to haul out the incantations and smudge and feathers and pink light aura. Build a healing globe of spooky illumination around the force field. Park under a pyramid.
Or maybe get huge headlights and massive speakers coming out of the roof with noises of a thousand starlings.
Or buy a giant truck and jack up the wheels so I need a step stool to get in. Or ride a horse.
I like the horse idea. Where are my riding boots and crop? Plus, horses are beautiful and smart.
I'll call mine True Blue and I'll be Miss Lois. With a cowboy hat. And fringe.
Ah- you'll be like the midwives of old. The Frontier Midwives of Kentucky. I love it!
ReplyDeletePlease be safe. We don't know each other but I like your comments and your blog. I know you sort of from Radish King.
ReplyDeleteMy husband did a stint on television news as the goofy weatherman. He owes it all, he says, to "The Little Golden Book of Weather."
Ms Moon-and babies come from the midwive's saddle bags.
ReplyDeleteJRS-thanks for stopping in. The Little Golden Book of Weather-ha!
I do decree you should get the pony! Make an epitaph like Going with the Wind Without Injuries!
ReplyDeleteA friend of mine organises donkeys and ponies and yaks for midwives in remote areas. I could help you get in touch?
ReplyDeleteGlad to know you are ok. Better lock that back door.