Infectious

My husband recently bought a lottery ticket.  This is a HUGE deal in our house.  My husband is easily one of the most negative people you will ever meet.  He's the type that will shred the silver lining to find the cloud in any situation.  His defense of his philosophy is this: "If you expect the worst, anything else is a good surprise.  Being positive only leaves you open to disappointment." He doesn't hope for good things.  He prefers to be happily surprised when they happen.  Of course, then he assumes that all his "good luck" is used up on that good thing and something terrible will happen later because of it.

Why would such a scrooge do something so hopeful as to buy  a lottery ticket?  I haven't the faintest notion.  I'm not really a big fan of the lottery, myself.  In fact, I nodded my head in agreement when my husband once declared that the lottery was really just another tax on the poor and the mathematically inept.  Apparently the triggering event for this most illogical of moves was a twenty-dollar bill in the parking lot beside my husband's truck just waiting with bated breath for my beloved to get to work.  He decided then and there that it was going to be a lucky day.  My son did well at his soccer game and a couple of other good things happened so my husband decided that if ever there was a time to buy a lottery ticket, it was now.  Strike while the iron is hot, says he.  You gotta get while the gettin's good.

I have watched in a sort of bemused wonder as my pessimistic darling jokingly declared that it didn't matter what kind of insurance was offered by his employer next year because we are about to win five million dollars from the lottery.  I snicker and shake my head while I internally roll my eyes at his foolishness.  He has already checked the website tonight and was disappointed that he wouldn't hear anything until 10:12 pm Central Standard Time.

I must admit just between you, me and the fencepost that his enthusiasm has been infectious.  Suddenly, I look around our house and notice things I'd like to have fixed like the light switch that I've always wanted in the kitchen so you could actually turn the light on without walking all the way to the other side of the dark kitchen with your hand frantically waving about in front of you hoping no five-year-olds have left any matchbox cars in your path.  We could finally get solar panels and a wind turbine and the price of gas wouldn't matter anymore because we'd have five million dollars.  I would force my husband to FINALLY go on a vacation.

Don't worry.  I've still got both feet in reality.  We are not going to win the lottery but it sure is fun to dream.  I guess my point here is that your attitude is infectious.  Don't underestimate the power to spread a little something from person to person besides swine flu (pardon me- H1N1) and strep throat.  (Thank you, by the way, whoever you were who gave me THAT little gift.) Let's all catch the dream bug tomorrow.

If I Perish, I Perish

"I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.” Esther 4:16.  


I've had that phrase running through my head for the last couple of weeks. How much different could my life be if I lived in that place?  If I didn't worry so much about being "safe" and just went for it?  Just no holds barred, full bore, balls out go for it.  Wow.


Now, I realize that it took Esther a while to get to that place.  She didn't start out as the brave queen that I idolized as a child.  She was a selfish coward just like me.  The thing is, she had every right to feel sorry for herself and say, "Let the rest of the Jews worry about themselves.  I've got my own problems."  The king of Persia was not her Prince Charming that saved her from a life of poverty and they lived happily ever after.  This was no Edward and Victoria love story.  This man had the power to order her killed on a whim.  He had an entire harem of women that were at his disposal day and night.  There was no future of familial bliss in her outlook.


However, she grasped her destiny with both hands and rose to the occasion to leave Hadassah behind and become Queen Esther.  How often have I let my destiny pass me by because of my fears?  Maybe I need to write some PostIts with "If I perish, I perish" and leave them around the house to remind me not to let my destiny slip away because of fear, worry and the need to feel "safe."

Soare Women Kill Their Own Cockroaches

My intense and, admittedly irrational, dislike of snakes has been well-documented.  When I say that I don't get all squeally and girlie about other creepies like bugs, spiders and other undesirables that does not mean that I love them and want to share personal space and life stories with them.  Quite the opposite.  I find cockroaches disgusting and never more so than tonight when I found a gargantuan one scurrying around my feet in the shower.

After a surprised "Ewwwe," escaped my disgustedly curled lip, I called for back-up from my husband.  After several unsuccessful attempts to elicit some assistance from that quarter, I gave up since he couldn't hear me because our television was set to the "so loud the neighbors can hear it" setting.  Suddenly I could hear my mom's voice in my head.  "Soare women aren't sissies.  Soare women kill their own bugs."  Dang it.  What was I supposed to do?  Crush it with my bare foot?  Not gonna happen.  No. Way. In. Heck.

After backing to opposing corners of the shower to avoid having unknown diseases tracked across my feet courtesy of  my insect friend, I remembered paper towels in the bathroom linen closet.  Eureka!  I just scoop it up with a paper towel and throw it in the trash.  My shower could continue sans cockroach.

It was a really good plan.  In my head it worked.  Of course, in my head I'm skinny and I wear really fabulous shoes and I work for an international spy syndicate .  Anyway, those cockroaches are faster and stronger than they look.  They can also jump when cornered, much to my chagrin. After several attempts to corner the little bugger and catch him with my disposable weapon, I managed to grasp him in the now soggy paper towel and make my way to the trash can across the room.  Of course, he jumped out of the paper towel before I could get there and he's now running around relishing his victory under my sink.

I decided to let him have this one. Next time he won't be so lucky. I'll get him when he least expects it and I'm not naked and wet with soapy hair.