Got Mojo?
I’ve been boxed into a way of thinking recently – most likely the tenor of the market, remember I am watching the market every day for my work and so all I hear is bad news. Then there is the addition of Wolfie, who we fell in love with and want to take care of, but it’s like Wolfie tipped our home harmony scale (between Arlene’s senior moments of incontinence, Loca’s still puppy moments of chewing and bouncing off the walls) – she might not have been such a force if we didn’t have the likes of a baby on the way and all that will bring. Of course, bringing up the rear has been the decline of my mom’s joie de vivre, or maybe it’s a stronger pronouncement of the fraying of the thin rope she has been holding onto all of her life.
This morning, T said she’d take care of walking Wolfie separately and I took Loca out, which I must say helped quite a bit. I had time to walk through the park, observe the three pelicans in the tree, notice the dead cormorant still hanging by a wing where he was trapped by a fishing lure on a string, and also observe that I have been silently going out of my mind of late.
I took a big deep breath and said que sera sera. As I made my way home, there was a handmade signed posted to one of the telephone poles on Moss Street that read GOT MOJO?
I yelled “No,” but then yelled again, “Yes, I mean yes, I’ve got it, I just lost it temporarily.”