April 9, 2009

• Speaking of yesterday's "grief burst" and today's grief counseling session, I've come to grasp a couple of things.

  One, remember as a child whining to your mother that something hurts when you push it or whatever, to which she would sensibly point out "Then don't push on it!"?

  If I want to get into a soggy, miserable mess in no time at all, all it takes is thinking a few "Oh, my Donald!"s in a row.

  Does it every time.  

  So Anne, you dope, don't DO that.  Don't string those three words together.  It's maudlin. 

  Two, it's amazing how a different perspective can change how one feels or thinks about something.  For instance, whenever I'd see a Prius - especially a white one - on the road, I'd mentally go into "Oh, my Donald!" mode, brooding on how "that's the last car he ever drove", blah blah.

  Sheesh.  I can be such a Tragedy Queen.  It's embarrassing.

  What I'm going to work on is instead smiling at a Prius when I see one, with that being a happy thought instead of a sad one.  Don enjoyed the Prius he rented for his trip to Corpus Christi.  When he was backing out to go return it I was startled because it didn't make any noise, so he rolled the window down and talked to me briefly about it.  (He said there's been talk of putting in artificial engine noise as the blind, who rely on sound, cannot hear it and have nearly been hit.)

  [slyly]  Of course, if grief bursts elicit gifts like my nifty Nintendo DSi, perhaps this plan should be reconsidered. 

  J/k!  

  • 11:33 pm
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