Incredible journeys

socks

Hubs and AGMA are hitting the road again. Finally.

We haven’t been on a long trip since May. I’ve been getting antsy.

Ya’ll know how I am…

We leave in almost exactly 48 hours. I have yet to do any serious packing. And I have an all day job tomorrow. Not the best job of planning on my part.

I did start pulling a few things together earlier in the week. Essentials like socks and underwear. The “base layer” some might call it.

There was much sighing as AGMA went through my sock drawer and came across several single socks. These are socks whose mates are long gone, sucked into that purgatory where naughty single socks are banished as punishment, never to return to the land of light.

Why do I keep single socks without a mate?

Who knows… Maybe to keep the memory alive of what a beautiful pair it and its significant other made. Maybe I’m holding out hope that the missing sock will enter the Narnia closet and come out back home in AGMA’s sock drawer. Maybe I’m just sentimental.

Whatever the reason, I can’t risk getting rid of the left behind sock lest its partner in crime magically reappears and I’m stuck with a single sock again.

Oh – what cruel irony that would be…

Then there’s my earrings. Oh, my earrings! The same alien force that transports my socks away from their mirror twin, also seeks to break up the unified bliss of my earrings.

And when it’s a pair of earrings that I REALLY like, I hold tightly on to the one that remains in hopes of a joyous reunion someday. In some cases, I’ve been waiting for a very long time for that reunion. 20 years ago, AGMA got an extra pierce in one of my ears to hold my single remaining diamond stud of the set that was gifted to me by Hubs a few years before.

I won’t give up on it finding its soul mate.

Perhaps I think it’s like that old Disney movie, The Incredible Journey, where a stylish black and white running sock, a thick brown wool sock and a shiny silver dangle earring are trying as hard as they can to get home despite the seemingly insurmountable obstacles during the 365 mile trip from Cincinnati to Atlanta.

Or every Toy Story movie ever made where Woody and the gang face unmentionable dangers trying to get back to their adorable owner of the moment.

They are all out there somewhere trying to get back to AGMA.

In my heart, I just know they are.

In the meantime, I need to get my arse in gear packing for our 3 week trip through 4 different climate zones. In a carry on.

Which is why this post shorter than the normal AGMA-dribble.

I have my work cut out for me today.

Hopefully AGMA’s next post will be from the other side of the world in a different hemisphere where the water goes counterclockwise in a sink, the national rugby team does a ceremonial war dance before each game, and the skies are so dark at night you can see to the far end of the Galaxy.

I think it will be an incredible journey!

P.S. Don’t even get me started on plastic storage container lids…

A benediction

As I told my friend Marty today over at Snakesinthegrass2014, after more senseless mass killings, this time in El Paso and Dayton, I’m tired.

Very tired.

And upset and frustrated and angry and incredibly concerned about the soul of our country.  And the inaction of our elected officials.

I don’t normally post memes from the internet, but I found this to be encouraging and uplifting during this time of deep discouragement and sadness.

I hope it speaks to you like it spoke to me.

benedition

May God bless you…

H-O-P-E

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 Photo by Alex Brandon, AP

Over the past week, AGMA has run at half marathon, helped newly naturalized citizens to register to vote, worked five corporate chair massage jobs, had one table massage client, went out to dinner with friends, attended a Bible study, had a bang trim, and marched in the Atlanta March For Your Life march (after running 6 miles in the morning before the march.)

I’m freakin’ exhausted.

And I leave on my trip in less than 12 hours and still not done packing. So why am I writing this post? Great question….

This is not normal AGMA modus operandi.

Once upon a time, I was bored. AGMA reflects upon that time fondly…

This was pre-blog, pre-running, pre-tRump, and before I transitioned over to corporate chair massage work. Post-blog and running, things were still a bit slow so I started a little eBay business. All was chugging along nicely.

Then November 8, 2016 happened.

All hell broke loose and life hasn’t been the same since.

My new interest in saving the US from the grip of a wannabe fascist, Putin loving, pussy grabbing, narcissistic, homophobic, xenophobic traitor nudged out my little eBay business.

It’s for a good cause..

AGMA knew I hadn’t sold anything for a the past few months, but I didn’t realize how bad I had neglected things until I went to put my “store” on “vacation”. To clarify, vacation is when you tell people they can still buy stuff from you, but it just won’t get shipped out until you get back.

Sweet.

Turns out I never turned off my vacation settings from my LAST trip in late January/early Feb.

Oops…

No wonder I haven’t been selling anything.

Things will be better when we get back from our trip

Well, actually no. We leave 2 days later for an out of town wedding. After the wedding things will settle down.

Well, actually no. We are home for nine days then got to Chicago for almost a week.

Now we’re into May.

But probably not even then. Benedict Donald is still around and is even more batsh*t crazy than ever.

No wonder I’m freakin’ exhausted.

But the March For Our Lives. Ah, the March…

Organized and put on by students survivors of the Parkland mass shooting a mere 5+ weeks afterwards. Teens who are far braver than I and stronger than most. Teens who are more eloquent than I could ever hope to be. Teens who have allowed me to hope again, I mean really hope, for the future of our country.

The March was worth whatever extra energy I had to expend to be there.

I’ve seen estimates of up to 70,000 marchers in Atlanta. Not sure about the exact number but AGMA can testify that there were a sh*tload of people downtown on Saturday.

But our crowd looked minuscule compared to the “mother ship” in Washington DC. Half a million plus? And YUGE crowds in Boston and Chicago and LA and New York and Miami and, and, and….

And like the Women’s March in January of 2017, there were sister marches all over the globe.

All.Over.The.Globe.

And all orchestrated by teens who less than 6 weeks ago saw friends and teachers murdered in cold blood at their school.

If that doesn’t give you goosebumps, then I don’t know what will. I honestly have goosebumps as I write this.

The winds of change are starting to blow…do you feel it?

And AGMA plans to be available to help these amazing young people as much as I possibly can, exhausted or not.

But that’s okay…I can always pick up my eBay gig after November 10, 2020. Or after the Orange Cheeto-head goes to jail.

Which ever comes first.

Gotta go finish packing…

What Would Clarence Do?

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Today is the century anniversary of the birth of my father. 100 years.  Triple digits. January 3, 1914.  MY father.  Granted that he was older when I was born, but still….  Holy cow – a century!!

He journeyed from this world to the next at the beginning of the new millennium.  I’m so thankful that, until he broke his hip and died ten days later, he was relatively healthy, had a sharp, quick mind and memory, and lived independently.

He and his wife moved the two hundred miles in 1991 to relocate to our city, like so many other aging parents, when health issues forced their hand.  My step-mother had Alzheimer’s.  So we lived within 12 miles of each other for the last 9 years of his life.  A chance for redemption I thought.  I was wrong.

My father was not a nice man.  Any relationship he had spoiled like milk soured after not being put back in the fridge before a vacation.  He was simply incapable of loving anybody but himself and left a family of walking wounded in his wake.  My mother, myself and my siblings, our spouses, his grandchildren, his wife – we all bear or bore the scars of his extreme narcissism.

In the very last episode of the 80’s era TV show Dallas, JR was able to see how much better life would have been for most of the people in his life if he had never been born.  The same might be said about my father.  His really, wasn’t a wonderful life.  I wonder how Clarence would’ve handled that one?

So no redemption was found in proximity; in the naive idea that physical closeness would result in everything finally being made right and good and whole.   But it hit me this week – it’s there!  It’s tucked deep down in the DNA helixes passed on.   His children and grandchildren.

Happy 100th Daddy.

George Eliot’s 2014 throw down

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“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

Chewy, hopeful words penned by Mary Anne Evans (1819-1880), aka George Eliot, British novelist and one of the leading writers of the Victorian Era.  I am all over that Mary Anne, you wild child you!  2014 – no resolutions – just being resolute.

The year to learn how to ride a bicycle.

The year to zip line for the first time.

The year to maybe entertain the notion of training for a marathon.  Did I say that out loud?

The year to keep the promise made when I started massage school in 2008.

The year to add a little bit of sugar to some not-so-sweet relationships – ouch!

The year to visit The Clermont Lounge and Johnnies Hideaway. Yeah – I said it!

The year of long hugs, thank you very much Linda!

The year to climb a bridge and visit Middle Earth.

The year to start blogging.

The year to enter a new decade of life.

Really nothing that would register above a 3 on the “Isn’t my life fabulous?” Richter scale, but the beginnings of throwing off and putting on and continuing to discover what is yet to be.  And you?