And the Kettle Blows

33010

Be careful what you wish for, it might come true. We all know this…our parents pounded it into our heads.

Years filled with moments of defeat. Wanting something one way and having it happen another. Putting up a stink. Pouting. Wishing for something different.
Wishing.
Wishing.
Then––Whoosh!
Wish casts off from brain. Full steam ahead, it sails for the wishing well to be granted. But wait! Magnetic forces jumble its equilibrium. Navigation goes askew. It’s thrown off course. And, oh no! It has entered: The Parental Triangle! And then it is spoken, right from their telling lips: You better be careful what you wish for––it just might come true!

Jeeze. This is parental telepathy at its best.

So, here is a similar situation, or maybe not, but the two seem correlated: you think of something happening, and then it happens.

I do this more often than not. It’s pretty phenomenal but scary because it can happen with negative thoughts just as easily as positive ones. This is called, sending out your frequencies to the universe.

Here’s my latest transmission…

I was having coffee with Kyrie when my Dad called. It was Tuesday afternoon. Tuesday’s are his LeTip meeting days (LeTip is a business networking group). His group usually meets over breakfast. On this particular Tuesday, they were having a special mixer during happy hour. More for fun than for business. The moment he told me this, a streak of disapproval and angst ran through me… A Mixer? Mix. Mingle. Casual. Meet. Dad. Single. Flirt. Date. Sex. Love. Noooo!

Once my short-circuited brain stopped spewing out sparks, I rationally discussed this freshly brewed concoction of anxiety with Kyrie.

She suggested I sit down with my dad and just tell him my feelings––out of the blue. No way. Couldn’t do that. It would just blow up into a fight. I figured, no matter when it happens––and it will––it’s going to be a fight. I won’t know how to approach it. Properly explain my feelings. Communicate the reasoning behind my disapproval. And so I’ll be an immature crab-pot.

The fact of the matter is: I will not be happy seeing my dad with some other woman.
I will not be a good sport about it.
I will be immature.
And I will put up a stink.

And, oh boy will it be stinky!!

Kyrie and I decided it would be best to just wait and talk about it when the opportunity presents itself.

Come Wednesday.

I was helping my dad catch up on some emails. There in the Inbox was an update from Match.com. Six new matches! it said. Six women. All living in the Portland area. All middle aged (yeah, better be). And it caught me way off guard: What the hell is this? I thought. My dad denied it was anything. Just junk mail. He gets crap like this all the time. Hmm? I don’t know about that. In fact, I was so stunned that I proceeded to make a few snide remarks, thereby inviting our dear friend, Fight, into the conversation.

After a long, long, long, emotional, long “talk,” we accomplished one thing: making it known that Ashley has a legitimate fear of her dad moving on from her mom to another woman who could very easily bequeath her mother’s possessions and her father’s assets. In other words, she is fearful of another Aunt Ruth.

Story to be continued…