Karma's My Bitch

So, after writing my final complaint filled blog yesterday Hubby and I headed out for our Sunday activity. I was a bit grumpy and didn't really want to go. I think I had put myself in a bad mood from doing all that complaining, or maybe it was just the thought of going out with a new crowd, most of whom I didn't know. Although most who know me well might call me a social butterfly I still have issues with meeting new people. I feel like a 5 year old wanting to hide behind my mother's skirt until I am comfortable enough to come out and talk. And I really haven't been feeling especially social lately anyway, I just go through phases.  Anyway, I was grumpy.

We had to stop at the store to buy chips and salsa, our meager contribution for the day (in addition to bratwurst-Hubs' idea, not mine). Aaaand there she is. Old lady karma kickin' back at me for bitchin' and moanin' about all the people who chap my you know what. There was 1 (one) person in the checkout line ahead of us. She had 4 (four) items. And she paid (wait for it...) you got it. With a check. That she wrote. After digging in her purse for 2 minutes looking for the checkbook like she didn't know she needed it. I just looked at Hubby, rolled my eyes and said "You KNOW what this is, right? That bitch karma is kicking my butt." He looked at me not comprehending. "My blog? This morning. I wrote about THIS VERY THING!!" I whisper-yelled at him, dropping my head down to rest on his shoulder to keep my forehead from exploding. Finally she brings out the checkbook and painstakingly writes it out. Then, miracle of miracles we have a new cashier who has never had to run a check through (or maybe not so new and just no one ever WRITES A CHECK ANYMORE!!!) So the grand total setback is about 10 minutes for this checkout excursion.

I am going to stop here for an editor's note. Or writer's note. Or whatever.  I am not complaining here. My friend Lori gave me the advice that this is merely telling a story. I am not complaining, nosirree, not whatsoever. Just relating the facts, ma'am.

So now I am REALLY not in the mood for what the day had in store. Seriously, if this can hit me at 5 minutes out of the house, I made a list of 10 things to complain about and yikes! Who knows what else will go on. Like the great Tommy Womack said all those years ago "karma's real, it's no bullsh*t!" I believe it, just like Earl.

So on we go, meeting up with my sister- and brother-in-law and taking the most winding circuitous route to get to this persons house that was WAAAY out in the middle of BF Nowhere. And I don't know anyone but us 4 when we get there. And I am wearing a bathing suit under a cover up and it is 100 degrees outside. This means I have to strip down in front of people I don't even know and sit around with my flabby, just lost weight looking body. Grrrr.

Now, here's where I put the moves on old lady karma. This is when I put her in a half Nelson and wrestle her to the ground. This is where I say "nope, you are not going to ruin my day, I am going to have a good day. No complaints August. Everything today is going to be wonderful." 


The end result is that I had an exceedingly good afternoon. The folks who were regulars welcomed us into their group with kind words and open arms. We all shared a delicious meal, and Hubs initiated us into the group by doing a kick-*ss job as grillmaster . The best part for me was that this was the most diverse and wonderful group I have been around...well, since we left our friends in Nashville 5 years ago. There were men and women, married and single, gay and straight, believers, undecideds, dems and republicans. If only we'd had an African American trans-gendered illusionist I think we'd have been the complete package.  I was truly in heaven...in my element...and in rural Kentucky. Shame on me for being so surprised.

I came home last night with total peace in my heart at the love that so obviously exists between these friends who come together every week for fun and conversation and good food. I went to bed feeling so grateful to have met them and knowing I will be welcomed back. Not just because of my smokin' hot lip-synch performance of "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me" (with tequila bottle playing the part of the microphone). Not just because I tripped while attempting to make a dramatic entrance and almost fell on the deck, thus providing everyone with a laugh. Not because I can reach the volume knob on the speakers. But because I just will. Oh, and all day? I had so many conversations with the folks who were there. And not once was I asked where do I work or what do I do. Not once was I asked where I go to church. Not once was I told to watch my language. No one judged. And not once did I feel that I didn't belong, despite being the "new kid". Why can't it be this easy in the real world?

So maybe there is something to be said for this no complaints thing. Thinking more positively seems to make me more positive. No Complaints August. It's a good thing.