Who Do That Voodoo?


Ok I am ornery today. Don’t you just love that word? Sounds just like what it means. Ornery! That’s me today. Feeling a rant coming on. Just thought I’d give you a heads up. You still have time to get out now. You can save yourself…run!!!

Hmmmm…you’re still here? You are a brave soul aren’t you? Then you must hear my new theory I am working on.

I am convinced that the Beast has a voodoo doll with my face on it. So on days when he has the upper hand, like today…when I am feeling a little blue and having lots of symptoms, he gets out the doll, sharpens all his little pins, and has at it. He tries to get me back for all the things I do to foil him.

I’m sure at times such as this, he would just be sitting there…snickering, and saying…”Ha! This is for the time you left me on the pier!” And then he would stab a pin into the hand of the voodoo doll. I, at the time, am home writing out some checks for some bills. They are totally illegible. Frustrated, I rip them up. I’m getting very good at that. There is a pile of useless ripped up checks amassing on my counter. The environmental police are going to come after me for wasting so much paper. I ask my husband to write the checks. The Beast is not happy.

Since I donated ‘Bessie’ – another post you need to read if you haven’t already…I don’t have a car anymore. I use my husbands car just for short trips around the neighborhood. I don’t drive the freeways anymore (I’m kinda now starting to look at that as a plus, not a minus!). But today my husband was going to play some golf, and I wanted to do some errands close to home. So he drove to the course, took his clubs out of the trunk, and I got into the drivers seat. Well damned if that beast didn’t immediately grab his pin cushion and stick some pins in the voodoo dolls leg. Because my leg started doing dance steps like James Brown. And it was my right leg, so driving was interesting.

Now to add insult to injury, the Beast gets out his “twisted” ‘Twister’ game to play with his little playmate ‘Dystonia’. If you haven’t read my other blogs, Dystonia is an annoying little friend of the Beast that comes out to play with him sometime. They take turns spinning the twister wheel and when it lands on the picture of a foot, they grab the voodoo doll and twist its foot. What does my foot do? It curls in like I am horribly pigeon toed, and I start dragging my foot like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Or maybe they spin and it lands on an arm. Now this is a funny one. They twist the voodoo doll’s arm, and my arm goes flying up over my head…and my hand lands behind my neck. When I am out in public and this happens, I usually pretend like I have an itch on the back of my neck. But I still have to find a way to bring my arm back down. Not easy.

Or maybe it lands on the picture of a hand. They twist and I shout. All right, I am not liking this game. I never said I wanted to play anyway. I am done. Finito! Kaput! The alarm on my phone reminds me it is time to take my meds. I power down the pills, grab a piece of chocolate cake out of the fridge, sit down on the couch, put my feet up…and try to get as much cake into my mouth and not on the floor as possible. Lately after I eat, the floor and table around me looks like a toddler in a high chair had just been sitting there. But after a few minutes pass, the meds and the chocolate cake kick in. I am starting to feel better. An idea begins to percolate in my head (at least I can still percolate!). I think I need to share some of my chocolate cake with the Beast and his little friend that I have just now decided to call Tattoo. Remember him? He always pointed to the sky and said “da plane, da plane!” Anyway, I will say “hey guys, want to go for a ride in a plane? I have cake too!”

I am going to put both of them on “da plane” and send them on a little trip. Does anyone know the coordinates of the Bermuda Triangle?

By the way…here is the pilot I hired: