Monday through Friday, I get up, velcro on wrist weights and exercise for half an hour with Gilad Janklowicz on FitTV. Then I peel off the weights, sit down in a bendy pose that would injure most Western adults, shuffle my tarot cards and ask two questions. Ordinarily you might think, “Am I beeeyoootiful?” and “Where’re Italian pumps on sale?” but not so fast. My two questions are, “What is my work today?” and “Who do I have to be to do it?” Then as answers, I hope for “win a million dollars” and “be a cute Belgian.”
Today, I drew the Five of Discs and Death, reversed. I’m working with the Motherpeace deck, which has round cards. Most decks have rectangular cards. All types of tarot decks work on the subconscious and what you already know, but different types have different degrees of positive and negative connotations. Some are outright wicked. I stick to the Motherpeace because it’s the only deck I have and the one I had before pretended not to know me when other people were around. So the Five of Discs means my job today is keeping my hands busy against worry, and to do it I have to be willing to let something large and serious go and go in peace. I think. Either that, or baking could be fatal. So I’m good.
Yesterday, I drew Two of Cups as my work and for being, two cards came up in my hand: Two of Swords/Temperance, both reversed. Fabulous. All three cards individually are about balance; two also are about union, two about patience. The three cards kind of overlap. I thought: great! No time like the present for upside-down-loving me.
As job #2, I go to a house, make up beds, do two loads of laundry and wash up some dishes The owners of the house are enduring a cancer incident, Essentially, they pay me for the laundry. I do the rest because they are good people, and completely helpless – for now. Someday, they’ll return to scandalizing the neighborhood and having parties where we all search for one another’s pants the next morning. In the meantime, I empty the dishwasher. Yesterday, between loads, I drove to the new Franklin Township Public Library, right next door to the old Franklin Township Public Library, where the food bank had a drop off barrel. Last time I went there the joint was closed. There was a sign about a grand opening. I decided then I didn’t want to get emotionally involved so I’d come back in a few weeks. So yesterday, I turned up and the new place was open.
As soon as I opened the trunk I knew I was in for it. Soup cans rolled everywhere. I gathered up one grocery bag and tied it securely. The second was harder. As the humans go, I’m small. I’d be large for a lemur, but for a human, I’m small and lack a fixed idea of which end is up. Dialogue from a time long past:
Ken: I see now. The reason legs are always photographed like this the long lines look longer upside-down.
Barbie: Of course. And you just like my legs up in the air.
Ken: Preferably around my neck, yes.
Even longer ago, back in the sepia-toned sixties, Mom used to look up from washing the dishes and find me walking across the top of the swingset or hanging by knees five feet off the ground. If you ask, she has no idea how many times she ran down the back steps, warbling, “Dooooomenicaaaaaaaaa, don’t moooove…!” In the library parking lot, I found my trunk was bigger than was sensible. I grabbed most of the stray cans and stuffed them into a grocery bag. Two cans of chicken noodle were just beyond the tips of my fingers. I leaned into the trunk, balancing on a point just below my hip bones and nudged one can to where I could grab it. I leaned a little further, balancing on my hips and one hand. Suddenly, I realized there’s a car in the library parking lot with little old lady legs flying around in sensible shoes. I grabbed the last soup can, tied up the second bag and marched into the library in front of an older man who looked more worried each time I burst out laughing.
Turns out the food bank doesn’t stop at the library anymore. Consequently, neither will I.