If your goal is to wake each morning, crack open Jetpack and smile to yourself, knowing this day is going to be wonderful because of the insightful prompt…
You may want to consider sleeping in.
I’m finally taking my car to the body shop to get her bumper replaced Tuesday. She’ll be in there for at least two weeks. I was wondering what kind of tank they’re going to give me at the car rental place, and I was thinking about my car’s name. She was given this name on the day. I drove her off the lot. It didn’t come to me immediately, I had to study her and drive her to know that she is a refined vehicle that sits high and proud and has a smooth ride that purrs. Her name is Victoria and her nickname is Koko. Yes, she has a nickname. I only use her full name when she is driving sluggishly and I need her to get the lead out (ha!).
Some of you might think I’m strange, but yes, I routinely name my cars. My car before this one was a black Mazda2, and her name was Buttercup. She was a spitfire. She liked to race sport cars, and win. She liked to take turns real tight, almost obnoxiously so. She was afraid of no one. She wasn’t named after the weed known as buttercup, she was named after the toughest Power Puff Girl. I still miss that car.
My naming of cars goes back to my mother who started the habit. She named her first car Happy. She had many cars over the years, and I can remember a few of their names.
The raspberry red Dodge something-or-other was named Bob, i.e. Bucket of Bolts. Bob didn’t have a long life with Mom. He was a lemon, despite his beautiful raspberry color. Her Toyota Echo was named Sassy, and her final car, a Toyota Corolla, was named Darwin.
Does anyone else name their cars? If you do, let me know their names in the comments!
I’m sure you don’t remember
That day when I saw you at the grocery store
It was three years ago
I had just seen you somewhere else
Sometimes I like to spend quarters
At the gumball machines
(High stakes finance these days)
I was trying to get a real gemstone ring
(They’re real to me)
But I kept ending up with plastic
Claddagh
Puffy hearts
A slug (?)
And initial rings that looked like candy
I was concentrating
Crouched in front of the gumball machine
Turning the silver knob
Hoping for the gemstone
Just like when I was a kid
And I got a real mood ring
Anyway
I heard
“Two times in one day?“
I knew your voice instantly
I turned my head to look at you
Standing there with a grin
As you blocked the egress
And old ladies tutted you
You were oblivious
Your cart filled with toilet paper
“I’m busy getting a gemstone
And you’re blocking traffic“
I couldn’t help but smile
My tone fake stern
The people behind you were forming a 15 person queue
You left and I went back to spinning the silver dial
Kind of like Russian Roulette with quarters
Anyway
The next spin got me a puffy plastic blue initial ring that looked like candy
It was your initial
I had no more quarters
I went to my car and loaded it up
I saw your car still there in the parking lot
A thought popped into my head
I giggled and grabbed the ring
I ran to your car
You were surprised
Out of breath
I said
“Here, this is for you
It’s a real gemstone”
You were perplexed, but took it
I turned to run back to my car
Smiling
You yelled after me
“Hey, does this mean we’re engaged?”
I turned around
Far away now
“Yeah!” I yell-laughed
I giggled all the way back to my car
Maybe we should get married
At the playground?
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
Sleep has eluded me for several months now. I think it’s avoiding me. Are we on a break? Is Sleep cheating on me? Now that I think of it, I’m awake in the middle of the night – where is Sleep? Not with me. Not in the hallway, Not even in the house. Very suspicious indeed…
What is one word that describes you?
I don’t know if I can answer this prompt with one word. I’ve been told I’m a lot of things: quirky, eccentric, dynamic, hilarious, moody, feisty, sassy, a hot mess, frustrating, incomprehensible, silly, kind (this is my favorite one), grumpy, mouthy, talk back-y, really weird, stubborn, headstrong, indefatigable (not always true), tenacious, ridiculous, goofy.
I couldn’t do it in just one word. I knew I wouldn’t be able to.
This is the obvious choice. If my vacation does not include this, I don’t want to go.
The irony would be too much.
It’s bordering on absurd.
Tell me, how would a black-cat-having, left-handed person born on Friday the 13th (who walks under ladders and opens umbrellas in the house) accomplish being superstitious?
I am a walking superstition.
Witchy Woman
Song by Eagles
Raven hair and ruby lips
Sparks fly from her fingertips
Echoed voices in the night
She’s a restless spirit on an endless flightWoo-hoo, witchy woman
See how high she flies
Woo-hoo, witchy woman
She got the moon in her eyeShe held me spellbound in the night (woo-ooh)
Dancing shadows and firelight
Crazy laughter in another room (woo-ooh)
And she drove herself to madness with a silver spoonWoo-hoo, witchy woman
See how high she flies
Woo-hoo, witchy woman
She got the moon in her eyeAh, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ah
Ah, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ahWell, I know you want a lover, let me tell you, brother
She’s been sleeping in the Devil’s bed
And there’s some rumors going ’round, someone’s underground
She can rock you in the nighttime ’til your skin turns redWoo-hoo, witchy woman
See how high she flies
Woo-hoo, witchy woman
She got the moon in her eyeSource: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Bernie Leadon / Donald Hugh Henley
Witchy Woman lyrics © Cass County Music, Likely Story Music Co
If you’ve been with me for a while, you knew this answer was coming. Why would I compare myself to a cat? Why not?
Here’s what cats and I have in common: When we like you, you will know it. When we don’t like you, you will know it. We don’t give our affections to just anyone, we choose the people who won’t look at us. Duh. We will welcome you after you’ve been away for a long time, but we will not run up to greet you and lick your face. That is uncouth. Instead, we will wait the perfunctory 3 to 5 business days to say hello to you, because you left, and that was not approved.
(I love dogs, have had several, and you guys know that I love my friend Petey. The insinuation of dogs being uncouth is a joke.)
Here are some photos of me training to be a cat:
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
Dear Amy,
I heard you turned 100. Happy Birthday! I hope there wasn’t a fire when they lit the candles on the cake. Couldn’t resist sarcasm, but you know that about us. Anyway, I just want to say thanks for everything. I’m sorry about the neck. I tried to tell teenage Amy about this, but she didn’t really listen. She carried that heavy bookbag on her right shoulder for 12 years… I was trying to make her see reason, but she wouldn’t have any of that. You know teenagers. I should apologize for the neck as well. I spent hours with my head down, looking at my phone, using poor posture in front of the laptop, and generally not taking the advice that I gave to teenage Amy. I guess I never learned. I hope that you are a “good” 100. By that I mean I hope you’re still active and enjoying things. I hope you are of sound mind. It would dishearten me to learn otherwise. Please tell me you’re still wearing fedoras and dressing like you want. I hope you have a really cool scooter and that it goes 60 mph. I hope you start foodfights in the cafeteria of the assisted living home. I hope they have really good chocolate milk there. I hope there are no weird men. Ha, who am I kidding?
Thank you for all the years, and I hope that all of the versions of us have made you proud. We’ve done the best we could, haven’t we? We protected little girl Amy with all that we had. We did some bad, we did some good, we loved hard, we laughed hard, we worked hard, sometimes we cried hard, and most of all we lived. We really lived.
I see that lady from Room 3A eyeing the pink wheels on your scooter. You’d better get over there. It looks like she’s messing with your music selection. You let her know that no one changes the song but you.
Love,
Amy
100-year-old Amy gets on her scooter and turns up the volume. She tells the lady from 3A to move, she’s got stuff to do. She peels out, heading off to parts unknown, her speakers blaring “I’m Bad” by LL Cool J.
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
“It's Amy,” I said. 