I had my "numbers" done recently. That's where your birth month, day, and year are added, subtracted and some other mathematical procedures combine to give you a final number. This is your magical number. Your entire life can be summed up with this number. You should have no questions remaining once you know your number.
Mine is a seven. I read what a seven's traits are, and the previous mistakes made by my former self in that other life I had once, and who should avoid me, so on, and so forth. But for me the most striking part was when the author mentioned this, "You will only reach fame posthumously, if at all." What. Seriously? So basically for someone hoping for fame who received this news could pretty much just give up trying. Forver. But all seriousness aside, you now know with absolute certainty that if I'm not taking any of this seriously, then neither should you. Give me a break people.
So, I met Tabby. Tabby stripped my hair. My hair is absent of color. I like it. It goes with everything. And the bonus? I know someone from Ecuador. Do you know that in certain places in the world girls pour beer on their skin before going out to sun bathe, to make themselves a "golden" brown? I shit you not. They do. Why mess around with the coconuts when the beer is right there, chill and ready.
You know how certain people appeal to you and others do not? Those are the numbers. There are several ways of doing the math. You ask yourself a series of questions. Number one. How many times in the first five minutes of meeting so-and-so, did they smile at you? How many times in the first five minutes of meeting so-and-so did they roll their eyes at you when they didn't think you were watching them? Do you see the pattern? Then there's the other way: birth day, month, etc ... blah.
Anyway, Ecuador, beer ... yea, yea. I heard you can live cheaply and well near the equator and it stays consistently warm. All. Year. Long. Are you feeling it? Me too. I'm pretty sure we should all go to Ecuador and get tan. There are way less people than ... here. Before everyone rushes out to buy property, let me take a quick run down there and check things out. And let's keep it on the low-low. Wait for my call.
Oh! Yes, while I'm gone, could someone talk to a few experts about this whole pole-shifting fear and find out what will happen to the countries, say, on the equator. Should be safe, right? I'll call you.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Once on Maui
They told me many things: 600 curves, 54 one-lane bridges, three hours to drive 30 miles. Numbers crack me up. There can always be adjustments. I'm a good driver; I can drive 30 miles in less time than their supposed calculated stories. Three hours. Ridiculous.
The numbers were all correct. It does take hours and hours to drive the road to Hana. It's a little scary and a lot beautiful. Wild plumeria, bananas, coconuts and waterfalls with every turn. Depending on whether you are driver or passenger you can also see the drop-straight-down cliff that will take you to your maker if you don't keep your eyes straight ahead.
I took my three teenagers to Maui for Valentine's day. It seemed unreasonable to not take that road - it's what you do if you're on the island. I was the only licensed driver and knowing what I know now, I would never be a passenger on that road. My fate stays in my hands.
Teenagers love music, me too, but not that day. Everyone was required to stay completely silent. I have neurological short-wire issues and can only listen to one thing at a time, otherwise I must put on a stocking cap and try to block the second and third things. So we enjoyed the beauty of silence. The colors of peace are emerald, fuchsia and juicy mango orange. The smell of silence is earthy, like dirt and rainfall mixing together and then sliding over ancient rocks spiced with mildew and moss.
I didn't know I could drive two miles per hour, but I can! My kids were terrified and delighted in the same exact moment. This is the road. Forget the Autobahn. It's much harder to drive slow than fast - it takes guts my friend. When you arrive, you will find that if you stand in one spot and slowly turn, every single view, every degree is one of sea sprayed magic. You will feel alive.
I made a promise to some short Hawaiian guy in pink and blue tattered shorts (he said he was God and I would crash and burn to ash on the return trip if I did not follow his instructions) that I mustn't tell anyone what was really in Hana and my superpower is my ability to keep my word, so ... yea, just go to Hana.
The numbers were all correct. It does take hours and hours to drive the road to Hana. It's a little scary and a lot beautiful. Wild plumeria, bananas, coconuts and waterfalls with every turn. Depending on whether you are driver or passenger you can also see the drop-straight-down cliff that will take you to your maker if you don't keep your eyes straight ahead.
I took my three teenagers to Maui for Valentine's day. It seemed unreasonable to not take that road - it's what you do if you're on the island. I was the only licensed driver and knowing what I know now, I would never be a passenger on that road. My fate stays in my hands.
Teenagers love music, me too, but not that day. Everyone was required to stay completely silent. I have neurological short-wire issues and can only listen to one thing at a time, otherwise I must put on a stocking cap and try to block the second and third things. So we enjoyed the beauty of silence. The colors of peace are emerald, fuchsia and juicy mango orange. The smell of silence is earthy, like dirt and rainfall mixing together and then sliding over ancient rocks spiced with mildew and moss.
I didn't know I could drive two miles per hour, but I can! My kids were terrified and delighted in the same exact moment. This is the road. Forget the Autobahn. It's much harder to drive slow than fast - it takes guts my friend. When you arrive, you will find that if you stand in one spot and slowly turn, every single view, every degree is one of sea sprayed magic. You will feel alive.
I made a promise to some short Hawaiian guy in pink and blue tattered shorts (he said he was God and I would crash and burn to ash on the return trip if I did not follow his instructions) that I mustn't tell anyone what was really in Hana and my superpower is my ability to keep my word, so ... yea, just go to Hana.
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