exitstrategy

As you are all aware, my interactions with the divine usually occur through another medium, often a cab driver.  But, perhaps because we are in the holiest of days, I had direct contact.  I was, as some might say, smited.As you read, there were two weddings.  The second wedding was so amazing, and I felt like such a princess in my white flowy lengha, that I could see images of myself at my own Indian wedding.  In fact, some of the guests commented on my garb and suggested I mary a nice Indian guy.  The truth is, if I really want to marry a doctor, I should marry an Indian guy.  Jewish guys are not doctors anymore.  They work for their dads or work in real estate.  So, I began to day dream.Fast forward to the Monday night after returning back from the wedding.  I was having dinner at my parent’s apartment.  My mom was checking her email and I was staring over her shoulder.  I had not told my parents about my dream wedding.  Instead, I decided to test the waters.  You see, my mom is a member of a psuedo-Jewish cult of sorts.  They get weekly newsletters and attend meetings and stuff.  In the newsletter, they announce the engagements of members.  ”So mom,” I began, “do you think they will announce my engagement in the newsletter.”  ”Probably not,” she laughs, “as I will be dead by that time.”  ”Ha.  Is that a promise?”  See Dr. G.  My communication with my parents has gotten much better.So my mom spontaneously suggested she would die before seeing my wedding.  Sounds just bitchy enough to be her actual sentiment but also is a little coincidental.  But that was not the sign.  The sign occurred two days later.  I woke up with bright red puffy elbows and a rash on my lower back.  What is going on?  I call my mom.  She tells me to call my sister the doctor.  She tells me to take benedryl and go see a dermatologist.  I get to work and make the appointment with the dermatologist.  He cannot see me until the following day.  My rash continues to get worse.  The next day in his office I can see the rash exploding.  WTF, I have it on my chest?  I look like some sort of victim from a medical test gone awry.”Well Spinsta, this is a pretty bad reaction.  I think you might be allergic to the henna or perhaps there was something that you came into contact with this past weekend.  I am prescribing you a high does of prednizone to take for the next week and half.  It should fix it.”I head home after the appointment - too much drama to go back to work.  I was a grotesque figure of my former self anyway.  So, I walk home and am almost run over by my sister.  (DO YOU SEE ALL THE COINCIDENCES??)  ”Hey sis.”  ”Hey Spinsta.  How was the doctor?”  ”He prescribed me this.”  And I hand over the bottle.  ”Oh wow.  Did he tell you about the side effects?”  ”What no.  TELL ME.”  ”Well common side effects are (1) mania, (2) insomnia, and (3) insatiable hunger.”And that was when it hit me.  I was smited.  This nice Jewish girl is gonna have to have a nice Jewish wedding.  Otherwise I will have a rash, and I guess my mom won’t live to see me wed.  (Although that cuts both ways)This divine intervention occurred 6 days ago.  I have not slept in days and I go to bed eating rice krispy treats.  I have a lot to repent for before Monday when the book is sealed.  That is why for the next several days I will not blog meanly about anyone.  Or too meanly.  Or probably I just won’t blog.  I don’t want to tempt the fates again.  I have an event coming up and I want to go sleeveless.L’Shanah Tovah.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS