Yesterday my friend Jim checked in with me and asked for my address. I assume he wants to return the luxury time machine I loaned him a while back. I told him I'm currently residing on Planet Grief. This is a planet I've visited before. It's a little mushy up there, a little unpredictable. One minute you're okay, and the next you're stepping in a big pile of kaka. And so it goes. You're good, you're not so good. This is how we roll on Planet Grief, where there is no dress code. Thank God. I'm wearing my least flattering sweatpants at the moment. Not that anyone has ever created a flattering pair of sweatpants. Expensive sweatpants, yes. But flattering? No. Please don't argue with me. I feel strongly about this and I'm always right. This morning, I did a bit of scholarly grief research, for which there is no government grant, just a bunch of pithy quotes by Shakespeare and other smarties that don't really sum up my state o' mind. So I made up my own silly quote which I urge you to drop into conversation today and report back to me how many blank stares you garner:
"Grief is a thief that steals a loved one right out from under you, and leaves behind an empty spot in your soul that only chocolate can fill."
-- The SJG of Sherman Oaks, currently looking for a larger pair of unflattering sweatpants. What did you expect? You keep bringing me delicious cookies and bundt cakes and other bakery items. Stop that.
Carol, you expressed it so well. I've been to Planet Grief (haven't we all) and it is a strange alien land. If chocolate helps, indulge yourself. And somewhere between now and size 14 you'll remember the treasure your father left you with -- lots of lovely years together. hugs, Leslie
ReplyDeleteIf I hit size 14, I'm in trouble. Thanks so much Leslie. I plan to pull a Sandra Bullock and get off this planet soon, and just swirl through space till George Clooney rescues me. I like that idea. A lot!
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