Miserable Mystics and Captain Yoda

Suffering Suffragettes! I've been snowed in with work this week. Chained to the desk pumping out stories of 240 words long, all in Arial, size 16 and I haven't even made a dent! Yes, and like Clyde the manure loving hound, the star of one of the stories, I have been waddling to old Farmer Brown's farm and rolling in manure of all sorts of descriptions, but more aptly named self pity and abject miserableness. I have had it!

So I phone Yoda, who isn't exactly small and green, rather large and not so green. Yoda spends his existence in a zen-like paradise, just two hours away from me. His place is  full of all that nature's bounty has to offer. He's had a skirmish with Gout Vader, and has been poorly of late, still I hope to touch him for some pearls of wisdom, cause I'm in a place where I can't see clearly where to go next. Just give me a hint, you Jedi divorce warrior par excellence.

Nothing doing, Yoda full of mystical mysticalness, opts out of the free advice hotline business and texts me some smoke and mirrors about some things you just have to figure out and fix yourself. That was what I was afraid of. It's really up to me to change this life around isn't it?

That miserable ole Roger is in Botswana as I type, with Fluff, and it burns me up that he has bought his ticket on the happiness train and left me on the side of the path, with cacti thorns needlin' me all over. Okay, so it was probably me who sat myself down on the cactus plant in the first place.

Yoda is quick to point out that I'm in charge  of my own happiness. I'm pretty fine at throwing those pity parties, perhaps I'll figure out how to operate my own happy hour. I wish there was a happiness vending machine, pop in some cash and instant happiness comes rattling out, together with some change.

I'm finally getting to the point of realizing that there are only calories found in chocolate bars, not happiness. I know this cause I've unwrapped so many of them lately and there has been no "Willy Wonka -Happy Plonker wonderous welcome to your new life ticket" found in any of them. Only calories....and with calories come  extra inches to squeeze into those hardworking fat jeans. Consequently, I found myself doing backstage work at the school concert in a black tee and awful black skirt abounding in nasty floral patterns because I couldn't fit into any black pants any more. ( No blossoming jokes, please)

To tell you the truth - I'm the small green thing - I'm jealous of that miserable old Roger.  He's good at making good things happen in his life. He's capable of knowing what he wants, understanding what will make him happy and getting it. He's prince charming on a white steed and has always made the girls swoon for him. Me? I always think other people are going to make me happy,or at least tell me where to find it and when they don't, I get a little panicky ,thinking that I will be miserable forever. I don't have much confidence in my own ability to produce happiness.

Right now - it's a boxed in cubicle existence for me, I feel trapped by a lack of cash, overwhelmed by a mile long to do list, and  I'm lonely, I'm miserable, impatient  I have nothing left to give, and I ache for my five children who are suffering because I'm a porcupine, prickly and bristly.

Roger comes to visit them and he's hip and fun and funny and warm and affectionate and oh how they love him.

It's nearly freakin' mid - jedi - night and I'm going to be Captain Crankypants tomorrow morning if I don't go to bed.

Yoda says I have to find my own path to happiness, just as he found his. He says he thought back to the last time he was  really happy. It happened to be the zen-like natural spot Ive already mentioned, he packed in his city clothes and teleported himself there. He hasn't looked back.

Iv'e thunk and I can't remember.... when was it?

If I ever remember, you'll be the first to know....