Wednesday’s Whimsies

+ The medical term for buttcrack is “gluteal cleft.” That actually sounds fancy and sophisticated. It’s nice that we can put a pretty spin on anything with words.

+ I’ve been writing this blog practically every single day for about five years now, so I realize that I am at the risk of repeating my stories. Luckily, there is a search feature on my website, at least at my end, where I can make sure that I haven’t already relayed a story, much like we so often have the habit of repeating our favorite stories to people, in our daily lives. There should be a special word for the action of our loved ones kindly listening with supposed engagement and interest, again and again, to our same favorite stories. It’s a significant word needed that recognizes how important our stories are to us, and yet also encapsulates the patient love from our listeners who recognize our own need for repetition. Our stories make us. Our loved ones understand this, even if they can also repeat our own stories for us, word for word. Any ideas for a word that captures this kind of love?

+And on that note, before I wrote this bullet point, I searched up “Stanley” on my blog listings to make sure that I haven’t repeated this story. This is Stanley:

I was at Nordstrom Rack one evening, and Stanley’s cute little face was staring at me, from a shelf, just like above. He was all by himself, sitting among some decorative candles and fancy toothbrush holders. Stanley is a piggy bank, and piggy banks are almost sacred in my family. Or should I say, lucky pennies are sacred in my family. For generations, my family has saved “lucky pennies” which we have serendipitously found throughout the years, and then we keep them in jars and in piggy banks, in our homes. I have never received a gift of a purse, or a wallet, without a lucky penny stuffed in it, by any of my female relatives. My husband knows that finding me a “lucky penny” on the ground, on any given day, is sure to make him a lucky man. (wink wink) All in all, piggy banks serve as beautiful visual reminders of all of the luck and the abundance which we already have in our lives from the get-go.

The truth is, I didn’t really need Stanley. We already have an austere looking, serious silver-plated rabbit “piggy bank” (who unfortunately, has no name) on our bedroom bureau, and this rabbit wasn’t completely full of lucky pennies at that time (although pretty close). And also sticking with the truth, Stanley was kind of expensive, especially for The Rack. But I had to have Stanley. When I went to pay for him, the cashier was thrilled. I think that she would have excitedly rung a bell, if there had been one, sitting by the register.

“Oh my goodness, someone is finally buying Stanley!” she said with glee, and that is the moment when I realized that Stanley already had a name. “Wilbur” was no longer an option. “Every day, we employees have checked to see if Stanley is still here. He’s almost become a store mascot. I’m not sure what I am feeling right now!”

I promised her that I would take good care of Stanley. And I do. I have already fed Stanley quite a few lucky pennies, as has my husband. (I find myself working harder to scour for lucky pennies, now that Stanley rests next to his buddy – the currently full of pennies, and “full of himself”, rigid rabbit.) I also gave Stanley his decorative headpiece, inspired by a documentary I watched about India’s painted and dazzled elephants. (don’t ask – it makes sense to me) And that is the story of Stanley. Please forgive me, if you have already heard or read this story. Please be patient with me, if I repeat it again. Thank you for witnessing me and my story. Stanley is proudly part of my story. . . . Did I ever tell you about Stanley? . . . .

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.