"Don't Worry, Be Happy"

Wowie-zowie is there a lot going on in my life. So much so that the thing that relaxes me the most, writing, is something I don't have time for. What sucks more, the idea of setting aside time for writing right now, with everything going on, doesn't feel relaxing at all. Well, okay, the idea of it feels a litte relaxing, but mostly everything, including writing and getting to my blog (to refine the 3-4 posts--about this and that--I've got stacking up in my que), all feels like one more thing to do. Oh, yikes me. But, here I am, for a just a sprell, tuning in...

My first question: Who decides to move from the place they've lived in for more than 13 years (and made a home out of) when they've only been in their new job for less than two months? Aparently me. (When did I become a pshycho chick?) Seriously, this is kinda nuts, but kinda cool, too. I'll get into the details later, about the move, about how the buttheads got to be too much, about how it's time for a change, but mostly, before I pull a whole look-at-what-a-stressful-intense-time-I-am-going-though song and dance, I want to say I am SO EXCITED to move that I might pee my pants!

I also have to say that Ava has been such a rock for me through all this that I could get so warm in my heart I'll wet myself twice. (Yeah, I'm apparently pshyco and Incontinent now.)

What do they say? There are five major things in life that cause the most stress: What you do (work), where you live (home), who you are with (love), who you've lost (death), and how you're feeling (health). Not too shabby. I'm dealing with 2 out of the 5 stressful things in less than two months. Well, I"m dealing with 3 stressful things in less than 3 months if you count breaking up w/ Watt. No, 4 stressful things in the last year if you count dealing with Jen's dad's death, which, incidently, the 4th of July this year marks the first anniversary of his death. Fine, I'm dealing w/ all 5 stressful things if you count my BP issues, my spring allergies...my... Yeah, yeah. I through in the health complaints for effect. I am really going for the major dramatics here. I'm fine. My BP has been really high lately, but I know it is more situational than health related and once I move it'll get it's self under control. (Here's hoping.)

There was one more little stress bomb I was dealing with, but I am not sure what stress category it goes under. I thought I was pregnant. I was late. I am never late. I didn't tell anyone I was worried, not even Jen, because in my mind if I didn't say it out loud it wasn't real. (Kinda like if you don't say Beetlejuice, then Beetlejuice won't show up), but that stressful thing is over as of yesterday. I'm good now. Phewww... That was so the LAST thing I needed. Can you imagine? Um... Hi, Watt. Yeah. We've got a little situation here. What's pathetic, is reality that the stress in my life is probably what caused me to be late.

But, today, during my lunch hour, as I ran my 80th, 81st, and 82nd errand towards moving (I was doing a drop off at the Goodwill of the last of the bus load of stuff I'm cleansing from my life), and was headed towards errand 82 and 83 (don't ask me if it really has been 80 or more errands, that's just what it feels like) which was towards Target for some returns (trying to earn back my moving costs), and to Trader Joes for more wine (duh!), I saw something strange which was so, so... well, let me just tell you...

I saw a dude, an older Mexican man who looked a lot like Cheech Marin (of Cheech and Chong), who was probably in his early 50s, just driving along Pacific Coast Highway. What's strange about that? Nothing, that is except all his car windows were down and the radio was blaring "Don't Worry, Be Happy" by Bobby McFerrin. Still not strange? What if he had a makeshift perch built into his passenger seat? "Perch?" you say. "Whatever for?" you wonder. Still, you're fine with that? Alright. A parrot was sitting on that perch. Yes, a real parrot.

My point? If this dude wasn't worried that his bird would fly off that Macgyver-ed wooden dow/built-in perch situation he'd permanently constructed into his passenger seat for his main parrot squeeze, his bud, his bird friend, his smoking buddy (the bird was probably stoned), and he had the "Don't Worry, Be Happy" up to the volume: LOUD AS HELL! Then what am I worried about a little 'ol move and a new job and a pregnancy scare?

Life is good. Just ask the the Cheech/Parot man.

More later... In the mean time, I am going to move to a FABULOUS new beggining!