goblin

The death discussion is progressing. Last night Gideon asked if cell phones grow up and die. I said no. Then Chris came home and said, yes, cell phones die. I had to interject and explain that while cell phones can break and stop working and someone might say "the cell phone died," it's not the same thing as when a person dies.

Chris and I really need to get on the same page with all of this.

This lead up to the age versus size discussion. Gideon doesn't buy the whole "you stop growing around age 18" concept. Just flat out thinks it's bullshit.

Last night I was shaking my booty, showing off my new jeans to Chris. You see, I lost 10 pounds and am 2 sizes smaller than I was in April. As I wrote here earlier, I attribute the weight loss to my energy visualization techniques to unblock and remove negative energy in my body and soul. Which makes me weird, I know. But you know what? Weird is working for me.

On our drive back from NYC last week, we stopped for dinner. In the Cracker Barrel parking lot I had this epiphany: My pants were going slide right down my ass if I didn't hold them up.

So yesterday, I bought jeans in a size that I haven't worn since the 90's. Then, in the excitement of the moment I bought a shade of lip gloss called "Happiness." And then, I went home and resumed our above-mentioned family death ruminations.

Gideon interprets getting "smaller" to mean that I'm getting younger. He lectured me on how this was my opportunity to finally attend preschool. I had told him that I didn't get the chance go to preschool when I was his age in one of those lame attempts at conveying to a child how fortunate he really is. It kind of backfired. He doesn't consider himself lucky, he thinks I'm a big loser. He's appalled. Listening to him go on about the importance of preschool is like enduring a parent lecture you on not getting that Ph.D., even though you're perfectly happy and doing just fine without it. I kept telling him, I have an MFA! Don't you know, that's a TERMINAL degree!

Lastly in this death update, I dreamed of another memorial service. This time for a powerful, wealthy woman who I did not know. Her name was Marlan and there was a lot of food involved. Now I'm wondering if she was Marlin, like a fish, which we all know is Jesus for the secret handshake. Right?

Or maybe it means I'm gobbling up death.

Reb Livingston, MFA, Death Goblin