 Later that day, the very day I posted Dirty Dottie (see below), I went over to Darkwing Manor, our local Halloween "House Haunt," to work with the Baron getting an early start on mannekin maintenance. Most of the mannekins are mismatched, overused and zombified old department store freebies with fingers missing. At the end of the haunt each November, they get disassembled and piled into a shed with arms, legs, broken-off fingers and torsos all jumbled together in a ghoulish, post-mortem sort of mess.
Our first task was to reassemble each mannekin and match it with its stand. This entailed several hours of repeatedly jamming metal rods into the metal holes embedded in close proximity to the mannekins' buttholes, in an attempt to get a proper fitting. Once the torsos were fitted into their bases, the arms were then found and screwed on, if possible. Luckily, most of their body parts had been pre-marked with names like "Chucky-Starbucky" and "Jason Voorhies," and "Pris." There was a fair amount of epoxy, fiberglass and Bondo usage, but we managed to get most of them put together and ready for additional repair. The irony was not lost on me. But unlike Dottie's ghastly husband, I found no pleasure in fondling the nude body parts of small children and young adults, even if they were made of plaster. I did however, have a great time repairing the broken fingers.  Shame on Dottie.
Now that her monster-husband has been convicted, how will the thick veil of denial she has spun for her entire marriage unfold? Was she an accomplice? Of course she was. She was there in the house, and seriously, how much can a person not know about their own household? Dottie represents that nightmare-ish kind of person I’ve always mistrusted… the haughty, dispassionate, condescending Sunday school teacher type who never seems interested in the truth of things. The church lady. The one who simply shrugs and tells you that the devil will get you if you don’t behave. Even worse, the kind of wife who shrugs at her husband’s behavior and says, “I don’t pry.” And much, much worse, the kind of person willing to look the other way in the face of abusive behavior to maintain their position in sports royalty, or whatever else is keeping them comfortable. Dottie's need to preserve her comfy lifestyle was so great, and the inner conflict so overwhelming that it must have been some kind of a conscious decision to just look the other way. Jeers also, for fabricating negative stories about the children. (Abuse victims, even more than well-practiced liars, find it very difficult to look people in the eye.) Of course, the only choice she had in this case was to play the oblivious card, whether she was or wasn't. Still, to all the women out there considering siding with an abuser to maintain a comfortable position in marriage, or work, I appeal to your higher sensitivities: "Don't do a Dottie!"  Fish sculptures made from plastic bottles, on a beach in Brasil.
I love seeing these kind of things. They seem to show up when I've plunged into gloomy hopelessness over the human race - the kind where you think you've seen it all and somebody does something even more ridiculous. Being an unrelenting altruist, I keep being surprised and then down I go, shaking my head in disbelief, prompting a mope-a-thon over the decline of western civilization. But here are the fish! Note the spotlights set up at the base, and just imagine how incredible this must look lit up at night, from a boat just offshore. A fellow writer on Facebook, Cynthia Rogan, posed this challenge today: Post 7 lines of unpublished work of fiction, starting on page 77, the 7th line, so here they are: ...parallel and taking small jumps with Sean and Peter’s help. It was his surrender to gravity on the hillside that re-established his sense of freedom—something that had been lacking since Deidre’s death and his unintended notoriety. His first big air in the terrain park had done it. “Reach for it!” Sean called out as Ian started down toward the shelf of snow. “Empty your mind!” Peter added. The momentum whisked him into the air, and Ian flew aloft for a few seconds before touching down safely on both skis. When he came to a stop, he was so jazzed that all he could do was holler out loud, waving his hat. – from Meteor Falls. I have much work to do on this one. Meanwhile, somebody else posted this on FB today. I'm with you, Mr. Einstein. Those who watch without doing anything are akin to a nightmare. 
It’s that little feeling you get in the back of your mind. I won’t say “voice” because it usually isn’t a voice – it’s a feeling. Your intuition. Your all-knowing soul. The part of you that wants to tell you you're about to step in something. I’ve spent years trying to develop this feeling to my advantage with a modicum of success, so I’ll share some of the things I’ve learned: How does it feel? You walk into a situation that just doesn’t feel right. Part of you really wants or needs what’s being offered, so you dismiss that feeling. Later, after you’ve been burned, you remember that tiny feeling-voice and say, “D’oh! I knew that! Why didn’t I listen?” If something feels creepy to you, it probably is. Trust yourself and walk away. Take a different route. When I used to teach martial arts, people would ask, “Let’s say I’m in a dark alley and I get attacked…” Hello? What the heck are you doing alone in a dark alley? How does it sound? Someone says something to you that’s inappropriate, yet you go along with it to get the free cookies. Like a job interviewer who asks you how old you are. You feel kind of crappy but you answer, thinking, “I’ve just been violated, but I really want this job.” Fasten your seatbelt. Plenty more violations are on this menu. You’ve just learned that this interviewer doesn’t play by the rules. (I know, I know, many of us are not in the position to refuse a job these days, but just staying aware of the original set-up can help you take steps to decrease your vulnerability when stuff starts happening at this job that you can’t even believe.) As far as something looks, it’s usually self-explanatory. Same for smell. Even barnyard animals know better than to stand in their own stuff all day (unless they’re denizens of factory farming, but that’s another story). So here are the things I’ve done: 1. Walked out on a job interview. 2. Diffused an uncomfortable situation by saying something humorous. 3. Shrugged it off. The first one was truly satisfying. As for 2 and 3, they both reek of stuffing feelings for a later explosion of some sort, or pissing psychotic people off even more. If you stay in an untenable situation and you have any measureable amount of personal integrity, sooner or later you’ll find yourself deeply questioning your self esteem. I wish we all had the courage to walk away from things before they bite us, but you can always start with little stuff, like expanding your awareness to notice what’s happening around you. Like in a parking lot you’ve just entered, or a supermarket line. Success builds upon itself. One more thing: If you’re still willing to believe that those cookies being offered by The Dark Side are anything good, just remember her:  |
Here's where I expound on whatever I'm passionate about at the time. I welcome your comments, as long as you're not hateful, a terrorist, or attempting to pedal work-at-home offers.
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