Lettuce Discuss

Before I get started….

I’ve had a lot of stuff going on…

I’ve mentioned that my Dad is ill.  He has now been diagnosed with Lewy Body Disease in addition to Alzheimer’s.  I had never heard of Lewy Body Disease but now having been thoroughly educated about it I can say with all certainty that the list of symptoms reads like a demon’s resume.   My parents had a vow renewal.  I went to New Orleans for the first time.  And yes, Mr. Magilla was forced to walk up and down Bourbon Street and almost,  ALMOST got lured into a super classy titty bar owned by Larry Flynt.  I found him wide-eyed and aghast that “they pulled him in there”.  Did they?  That’s cute.  Did you see a  boobie?  No?  BUMMER.  Wee baby child has been distracting with his adorableness and Hellhound is demanding.  My-in laws have had a few health issues and my husband is getting his boat ready for fishing season.  Sweet Jesus.  That drama really should include a cameo by Susan Lucci but apparently he can’t afford her booking fee in addition to the accoutrement of boat stuff.


Meantime, I informed him yesterday that his complaining about the work involved with boat ownership was akin to me bitching that Nordstrom’s sale was sub par.  And I’ve had to squeeze work in as well.  So let’s catch up.  I’ve missed you guys.  That and I was nicely reminded yesterday that my voice matters.  Just like everyone’s voice matters…. except Bernice, my old receptionist who smoked four packs of Camel cigarettes daily and sounded like she gargled with acid.  I’m assuming she’s passed on now.  She was approximately 178 when I worked with her 16 years ago.  I’ll reserve that story about her for another time, but it does involve my ex-husband and threat of dipping him in honey and eating him like a biscuit.  Not by me…by her.

So here we are; me in my dining room drinking tea, typing and listening to Aida.  Don’t get freaked out.  I’m not that classy – I haven’t showered yet – and you?  You’re…

in bed

on your phone

at the gym

grocery shopping

trying to remember who the hell I am

or my personal favorite – on your toilet paying bills on your iPad?

Isn’t that the most marvelous advancement in modern technology?  That is the very embodiment of multitasking.  Screw this notion that while driving the kids to their zillion after school activities you call your friend to schedule an adult playdate complete with Bloomie’s and wine.  That’s not multitasking.  That’s just seeking an outlet.  But to, let’s face reality here, escape to the bathroom for relative privacy and quiet and scour Etsy for the corner cabinet you’ve got your eye on for the upcoming bathroom remodel or read up on our political climate (yeah I don’t do that either), or to check your bank balance only to find out it’s shit because of those pesky bills.  WhatchumeanIdon’thavemillions?


As Mei Mei put it to me when she got her very first paycheck; who’s this FICA bitch?  Pre-children, I used to be very utilitarian in potty habits.  There was no mincing around with time.  Now?  If allowed, I will spend hours in there.  It’s the only quiet place I have.  Glorious me, empowerment lives with the ability to not only drop that extra pound sought on the scale but to simultaneously pay off the American Express bill.  Hell to the yeah girl.  I’m pretty sure I mentioned “my tribe” in my first or second post.  Still with me?  Thank God there’s other people out there like me.  I really don’t care for stodgy people.

So yesterday I got a call.  A great call.  After a couple of months of literally going off the grid and shunning all social media (not entirely true as I haven’t figured out yet how to delete Twitter primarily because it involves more than 3 steps).   I feel that modern technology has simplified things to the point of idiocy.  I’ve quietly gone back to living every day life.  I set a goal in January that I wanted to read 90 books this year.  I know perfectly well that I won’t hit that number but I thoroughly enjoy the notion of pushing myself.  I believe in intellect and that by feeding your intellect you feed your soul.  I had reached a point that I felt my soul had been battered.  I had been the dumping ground for a lot of people’s emotional shit.  So in those moments, I always opt for retreat.  I know how to heal myself.  And while I have friends and family and loved ones, I tend to be very solitary in these moments.  So I’ve quietly gone about feeding my intellect (to the tune of finishing my 30th book of the year).  Yesterday I was reminded that my presence was usually noted as was my lack of presence.  So balance I guess?  I dunno.  I’m trying.

Of course, as per usual with me, there have been a couple of exceptions to being a smarty pants that usually involve things I don’t want to do.

My Jeep had a recall.  Since we’re going on an actual vacation this year, I decided that we should probably make sure the gear shift is working properly since we’re driving a long ways away.  The dealership is local so my husband drove me there to drop my car off and then to work.  I was reminded why I’m eternally grateful that we don’t work together.  He’s like a poodle on amphetamines sometimes – except, you know, HUGE, so his bark merits attention instead of the knee jerk desire to boot him.  He heard a knocking.  I would like to point out that no one else heard it but him but it was like the gates of hell opened.  Clearly Chrysler has been scoping his ass out for a long time just waiting to strike.  Waiting…and waiting…

And waiting.  For years.  Decades.  Since the inception of their corporation…

They gonna git Magilla.

He would side-eye me whenever I would counter his argument.  That’s fair. Clearly I’m just a girl.  I know nothing.  I informed them of that at the dealership when they asked who drove the truck the most.  Magilla thumbed in my direction and I opened my eyes as wide as they could go and announced, “I don’t know, I’m just a girl.  The radio was up too loud for me to hear anything.”  I was disappointed that I couldn’t twirl my hair, but since the sides of my head are now shaved….bummer man.  No such luck to do the whole “dumb girl” persona.  Magilla looked like he wanted to stuff me in a refrigerator.  I’d ruined his whole conspiracy theory, so again – understandable.


My objective was world domination but I’M JUST A GIRL…

Full.  Magilla. Wrath.  And by that I mean he didn’t talk to me for a couple of hours which I happily took up vacuuming the house four times.

So anyway.  Back to what I was saying, albeit in my own head, a great call.  I got to talk to someone I haven’t spoken to in years.  It made my heart soar.  I was informed of a situation, which is not mine to tell.  I’m a stickler for not selling out other people’s stories. I was asked for a blessing which isn’t mine to give but for the record is given beyond measure and then once again and once more for good measure

…so, I’ll leave it at this.

I believe that life hands us exactly what we need when we need it most.  We just don’t always know it at the time.



3 thoughts on “Lettuce Discuss

  1. Dear Mrs. Magilla,
    To say I did a prancy little girl dance when my inbox let me know you’ve posted again, is an understatement . (I flounced around the room then landed on my bed with a twirl to indulge…) Yay to the welcome back of your brilliant thoughts! That simple joy turned quickly to a sweetness I cannot describe. You are loved, adored and highly respected from (not so) far away…
    Just, Thank You

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Welcome to the world of intellectual tee hee and warmth of humanity. May your words hit the mark. May all the audience know their conjurer of a lexicon.

      Liked by 1 person

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