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.
5 comments:
Ah- you'll be like the midwives of old. The Frontier Midwives of Kentucky. I love it!
Please be safe. We don't know each other but I like your comments and your blog. I know you sort of from Radish King.
My 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.
JRS-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!
A friend of mine organises donkeys and ponies and yaks for midwives in remote areas. I could help you get in touch?
Glad to know you are ok. Better lock that back door.
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