The Yellow Line

Normally I try to be funny -- because God said "Let there be Laughter" -- and you thought God said Light eh? Well laughter makes the heavy light and life is heavy -- look at Simon Cowell. If I couldn't laugh about the freeway that runs up the middle of his hair of bamboo shoots, I would probably hire a hit man for those Kids on American Idol. For instance I live on a country road that's pretty dark at night. Like camp site dark. It is total isolation -- see about 3 cars a day. In fact when cars come down our road people act like they've just seen a space ship landing -- staring, mouths drooping, and taking licence numbers. Well, the other day I went out to take the dog for a walk, in the dusk I saw a solid yellow line painted right down the middle of my road -- yep, surprise, surprise, surprise let -- there -- be -- light!!! Now I have a florescent yellow line to light my road home.

My dog, who notices if I dye my hair, and who drags me from pillar to post like Owen Wilson in Marley, took one look at this yellow line and made a sharp right and dragged us into the ditch. As she did her business she kept looking over her shoulder panicked to see if the line was coming closer to get her. When I got her back on the road, she kept sniffing at it, but she wasn't crossing it. Since that day, the dog does not straddle the road. Still pulls like a Husky going home to the igloo, but stays and ain't crossing the line. Get the picture. Do you think God orchestrates all these jokes???? Anyhow, its her perception of a yellow line.

Moving along, there are times the unexpected yellow line gets drawn down your street of happiness. Death is the big line laughter whacker. It makes you veer to the emotional ditch and cower as you look over your shoulder. And just like the dog, you have to face the line. To some the line is the Vet who says " sorry, your lovely little four legged best friend -- who really thinks you are someone special despite what the neighbours think -- has to go to the other side of (the dreaded yellow line)." And the worse place scenario, who even big, bad, bald Dr. Phil said that would send him to the emotional garbage dump " the loss of his child." Now that's a hard yellow line for us to face if Dr. Phil calls "I'M OUT."

I equate the after the yellow line feeling to my daughter's night club. If I go in there when Hump Night is in full swing -- that's Ain't It Good To Be Gay Night -- its a blast! After the hoopla dies down, it's black, its hollow and its black empty. The life has been temporarily sucked out of the place. But, unlike death, in a couple of hours there will be people swinging from the mirror ball and my daughter will be threatening to take a bucket of water upstairs to the Mile High Club. Drunken jerks just don't know a toilet from the back seat of a car although people are pounding on the door screaming "I have to pee."

So how do I face the yellow line of death? I straddle it like a drunkin sailor. As a medium I don't straddle it, it is more like dragged back and forth. I feel for the folks who "death is death and I'm picking this side of the yellow line and case closed" just like my dog. They're gone and tell me how do I stop the pain?

And for other people they are acknowledging, or sniffing at the yellow line like the dog did at first and wonder what goes on over there? What if I crossed over the yellow line thinking "maybe my family member isn't gone forever, we can still be in touch?" But like I said there isn't really a yellow line in my world, and actually sometimes I would prefer to be talking to the folks on the other side, they give me less grief. Ah, well maybe not as you will read on.

From as long as I can remember I was always interested in the yellow line, especially at 10. I'm the kid who likes logic and likes answers. Well here is my answer after many years of searching. Initially, nothing amazing happens -- kind of like the feeling we get when we cross over the yellow line at the border. We originally feel, "big deal crossing into the States." Then kapooooooow, we realize we are leaving boring Canada to the Home of the Brave -- Disneyworld, Dollyworld, Hollywood, movie stars, Rodeo drive shopping, etc). In the USA we can be Amelia Earhart flying a jumbo jet and yet we never took a flying lesson. Its when the best of your dream world, becomes reality. You know when you wake up from a really good dream, you go dam why did I have to wake up!

I do that when I'm driving my powder blue Mercedes convertible tooling along the coast line of Italy. If the car falls off the side,because I'm having the time of my life, driving 200 kms per hour, hitting hair pin curves at break neck speed -- guess what? When I go over the side, I don't break my neck. How good is that? Somehow I just land safely, get out and head with the new best friends to my speed boat. And the theme song of this world is, the Dirty Dancing bestest version of -- I'm having the time of my life minus the Canadian reality choir screaming " what the hell are you driving 200 kms per hour -- are you crazy?"

Yep folks, we just cross over the border from no fun Canada to hang onto your seat belts kids USA. And how do I know this, well in my every day life, the AIN'T I GLAD TO BE IN THE AMERICAN CLUB NOW, (the land of the brave) just can't help but sending me Postcards from the Edge. They call back to Canada and let me know about all the fun I am missing. Don't you just love those "wish you were here calls."

And how do I receive their calls? If I could only count how many times I've gone out to my car, in a locked garage and grab the door handle in haste only to find my finger nails have been shortened abruptly. Gees. If I am asked one more time "why do you lock your car in your garage?" I am going to have the locks removed. Or I stand talking to someone and they say Arlene "your car just locked by itself." They are dumb founded, but more dumb founded that I say, "I know annoying isn't it, but thank God I have the keys on me this time." Or I am exercising and the radio cuts out. There is no power flicker in the room, and off the eliptical I get, but when I turn the radio back on, its always on a love song. And nothing better than being abruptly wakened at midnight (they love midnight) from my Italy driving dream, to hear Celine Dion belting out the tune from the Titanic. Up I get to turn off the radio, with a nod of thanks for letting me know you are missing us. These vacationing Americans are no respectors of Canada time.

But really who can blame the vacationer -- they are like the kid who got a pass out of school, which earth is just a school room. I know in their little heart of hearts, they miss us and can't wait until school is out for us too. But seemingly they don't possess a watch because its midnight here but they just have to let us know, why, because our wall of grief is too much for them to bear. See them like the friend, who should be happily enjoying recess, but who can't and is lovingly tapping on the widow of the kid still in the class room, who is sobbing their heart out. Grief is grief. Its all on which side of the line you look at it.

I could go on and on with the power love signs, but the animal ones are really great. I once was missing my father, and he took time out of his day and orchestrated a monarch butterfly to spend a half hour with me to cheer me up. It sat on my head -- when I picked it up and gave it to someone else, it just came right back to me. When I'm frustrated with earth school, he made squirrels lay flat down on a picnic table and stare at me until I laughed. The best, I was sitting writing my blog just like right now stressing about life and as I looked to my left sat a mouse just staring back at me. Well I headed out of that room, now laugh kids, just like I'd seen a ghost. I brought the dog to the door to scare the mouse, dog couldn't see it. This dog loves to chase mice. The thing vacationed in my den. It laid on the leather like it was suntanning in Florida. It did not run, it just relaxed. When I tried to catch it with a mesh waste basket, in got through the mesh. This little mouse had a purpose, to show me there is no yellow line and the relatives will show you so.

So folks its a joy to tell you that there is no yellow line. If you just open up your scardy cat thinking and notice what is. If you need a telephone call, well maybe you might have to hire me to be your Sprint Canada connection. Is there a mouse in the house, or Ken in the den????? Actually you want a few over on the other side before hand, they can brighten up your day - the supernatural way - in the funniest of ways.

And often times, as a medium, that's big people talk for being a telephone connection between good old USA and Canada, if I can get their attention, they will tell you, from the bottom of their hearts, heard through my words and seen through my tears, still belonging to them, besides locking every device, or sending animals, that "they so love you, they so miss you, but the Jumbo Jet with their name on it is waiting so drool baby drool. Be happy and be happy for me!" So crossing over -- the yellow line -- is your decision.

And for any of you that I love, THAT MAY BE MISSING MY HUMOR lookout, you may find a gorilla dancing in your back yard if the circus is in town. In my little ghost like state, all I have to do is take a walk down the road to the circus and lead my little dancing friend home to your house. And my funny for today. I just went into the kitchen hungry and got really excited. I saw a fantastic fruit pie on the counter, and then realized it was one of those realistic candle pies that I bought at the Craft Show yesterday. Its all in how you see things. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha