Colorful companion to my memoir The Incompetent Psychic
About the time fairy lights were flickering along a path to Luke & Mernie matrimony I discovered sailboats and sailors. Then I did this generous young man a big favor. I acted out, broke his heart and dumped his nice-looking ass.
My parents drove up from Los Angeles and saw the mess their house was in. They also found out how high rents had climbed in that area. An understanding conversation with Joan about moving on forestalled a stern eviction lecture from Roy. He was entitled though, because at 32 it really was time to be booted from the family nest and make another new start.
By May I had rented a sturdy, but run down 19th century saltbox building by the waterfront in Benicia’s eclectic downtown. It had been an antique shop for many years, and was cosmetically challenged. It needed a month of hard work, but the toilet flushed and the rent was gloriously cheap. By Joan’s generous deadline it was fixed up with new flooring, a makeshift kitchen, a covered patio, carpets, insulation, drywall and paint. I moved into my very own place. — End of Chapter 7
For no other reason than way too much isolation, I’ve been tripping into rabbit holes of odd info. There was Atlantis for a while when two very different books rose to the top of my reading pile. One was Anne Rice’s latest Prince Lestat saga and the other was ‘Wild Oats’ by Shirley MacLaine — both of which delved far back to even stranger times. Then I found Edgar Cayce’s channeled info about Atlantis and spent way too much time surfing archeological theories, which now makes me an expert at something that has no base of solid facts to stand on.
The most recent rabbit hole is Chinese astrology, because Western astrology seems a little airy fairy right now. 2020 is the year of the Rat. Let’s blame that. The last year of the Rat was 2008 when the economy went kablooey just about like, well… now. Out of morbid curiosity I kept jumping back in twelve year increments. Ah ha. 1996 was when I hooked up with the second worse man in my life. Thank all the gods I didn’t marry him. 1984 was the job where I had to beg to get paid. 1972 was when I met the worst man in my life. I did marry him. And 1960? I had been hit by a car. Twelve years before that I was on the other side… likely when I got the bright thought, “Hey. I should reincarnate on Earth again. They have flush toilets now. How ratty could it be?”
On February 12, 2021 the Chinese calendar will change to the Year of the Ox, which suggests plodding prudence, practicality and hard work. Looks like the masks will stay on for much longer than we’d hoped.
A signed copy of Mernie’s memoir is available at www.etsy.com/listing/839838936
Unsigned copies can be ordered wherever books are sold.