another one for the "that's some weird ass shit right there, that's what that is" file

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ok, so at about 11:30 this morning i'm upstairs drifting in and out of sleep when i hear a fairly loud noise. usually this means that marley the cat is rubbing the sides of his cheeks up against a row of my record albums and he inadvertently tips them forward. but that's normally a "thud" sound and this was more like a crack.

so i head downstairs to investigate.

just to the right of the bottom of the stairs i find that my parent's "gaelic blessing" ceramic plaque (pictured above) has slipped off its nail and is lying cracked on the kitchen's tile floor. the nail is still in the wall, as are the two pictures of me mum and pop that i had taped above and below the plaque. as soon as i saw it broken on the floor i thought the same thing that you're probably thinking right now: "that's some weird ass shit right there, that's what that is."

my plan was to eventually take one of the mom and pop pictures down and replace it with a photo of my recently departed sister, peggy. i think that i was delaying that ceremonial event because i'm still pissed at her for playing with guns. make that - *using* a gun and playing with lives.

thankfully i'm fairly skeptical of most of that "premonition/what does it all mean?" crap, and so this didn't freak me out near as much as you would imagine. it actually almost made me laugh with its over-the-top "it's a message from the great beyond!" obviousness.

i was thinking later that those "roads" mentioned on the plaque - the ones that have "risen up" to greet so many people over the years - have probably suffered some wear and tear, and so maybe this was some kind of ploy to secure some of the infrastructure funds that are going to be in the obama stimulus package ("obama stimulus package" . . . why i did just imagine several of my female friends swooning?). but that "ploy" would be "a message from the great beyond" and i don't put no truck in them kinds of shenanigans, remember?

in summary then: i don't take the broken plaque to be no stinkin' omen, no way no how - but feel free to try to convince me otherwise. and of course i don't take it as a play for federal funds (ol' kev was just funnin' with ya on that one, and besides - although my knowledge of international law is limited - i suspect that all of those roads referred to in the old gaelic blessing are probably not even our fiscal responsibilty).

so i believe that i will simply have to place this admittedly unusual occurrence in that ever burgeoning collection that we (i.e. i) have come to know and love as the "that's some weird ass shit right there, that's what that is" file.

thank you.



NIGHTMARE UPDATE: no additional door busting, gun-wielding "attack" night terrors, and/or unknown, completely covered, whispering female bedmates to report (yay! . . . knock on wood).

however, i do continue to dream about guns on occasion. two nights ago i dreamed that peggy and i were sitting next to each other casually looking through a gun catalog(?!).

i think that the last time peggy and i sat down next to each other to look at a magazine was probably about 19 aught 64. she would let out a little scream every time we turned the page and there was a picture of paul, while i would get pissed because there were hardly any photos of ringo.

so it's gun catalogs now, eh?

damn - my sister sure has turned into a weird chick since she died.

death *really* changes people.

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