Positivity

My paternal grandmother called it the Evil Eye. She wasn’t the nicest person around, nor was she particularly happy. Which is just as well, because she believed that if you were too happy, something bad would happen to cancel it out. She died in 1995 and to this day her crypt is marked with nothing more than her name on a piece of tape. No one in the family ever put up an official plaque. I’m as guilty as the rest of them, but I do go and look at it every year or two.

As you all know, I am superstitious as hell. Not because I believe in demons or evil forces, but because I believe in human neurosis and self-fulfilling prophecy. If I fail to touch wood (or hold my breath when passing a cemetery, or cover my mouth when I yawn, etc) then I might subconsciously do something stupid to screw myself up immediately thereafter, because on some level I expect something bad to happen. God forbid.

This leaves me in a strange place. After a lovely Sunday dinner with my mother, I find myself both comfortable and serene. Nothing to rant about, no bilious complaint about bad food or bad service (both were excellent), my ferocious yet adorable dog has recovered from his alimentary distress (knock wood) – it seems my choices are, keep away from the keyboard, or risk the Evil Eye.

I have as much chance of keeping away from the keyboard as I have of rollerblading down Hollywood Blvd in a green tutu. Since I can’t rollerblade, I will just say Happy Birthday to the U.S.M.C., and wish you all as good a day as I had today.