May 23: Fattening You Up, Boo, Fairy Tale Surprise

"Just the same, I don't envy you," said the old sheep.  "You know why they're fattening you up, don't you?"

The old sheep isn't a very kind animal.  She seems to absolutely revel in telling Wilbur that he's doomed.  Of course, her revelation sends the little pig into a downward spiral.  He goes from being happily content to throwing himself down on the ground in despair.

That's the problem with surprises.  They can be wonderful or horrifying.  For me, there's nothing worse in the world than surprises.  I suppose that's because I've had my fair share people walking up to me and yelling "Boo!"  Metaphorically, of course.  Everyone loves to share news.  Good news is wonderful.  Bad news is even better.

These last couple of weeks, I've been waiting for a good "Boo."  I received one last Sunday when I found out I was the new Poetry Editor of the university's literary magazine.  But, one good "Boo" deserves another.  I'm tired of bad "Boos."  Death.  Job loss.  Bills.  I want . . . crave more good "Boos."

It's been a very long week.  I've learned lots of new things, met lots of new people.  New, new, new.  Today, all I've been thinking about is this:  sitting in my living, typing this post, and watching Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris.  That's exactly what I've been doing, and I haven't felt this relaxed for the last five days.  I'm comfortable, surrounded by everything that sort of defines me as a person.

And I am getting way too deep for a Friday night.

Once upon a time, a man named Gable lived on an island in the middle of a huge sea.  He lived there to avoid surprises.  Gable ate oatmeal every morning for breakfast.  He read the same book every day.  Moby Dick.  He had a peanut butter sandwich for lunch.  Went for a swim in the afternoon.  Grilled cheese for dinner.  And then more Moby Dick before bed.  Every day.

Then, one morning, Gable decided to eat bacon and eggs for breakfast.  The bacon slid down into his windpipe, and, because he lived alone on an island in the middle of a huge sea, Gable choked to death.

Moral of the story:  Who the hell reads Moby Dick every day?  Oh, and bacon can kill you.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

This or oatmeal?

June 7: Mortgage Refinance, Celebration, Run

Last night, I got a registered letter from the bank that holds my mortgage.  I nearly had a coronary.  I thought it was a foreclosure notice or something.  It looked a little too official, a little too important.  I didn't open it for almost ten minutes.

When I opened it, I found a letter offering me a fixed lower interest rate on a refinance.  Here's the kicker:  the letter said I don't have to have my house appraised and I don't have to pay any processing fees or closing costs.  In fact, I don't have to pay anything.  Since it already holds my mortgage, my bank is waiving all of the normal fees and costs.  I know, I know.  It sounds too good to be true.

Well, I called the bank this morning.  I was on the phone with them for close to half an hour.  I asked tons of questions, and, by the time I hung up the phone, I had a new mortgage in the works.  My mortgage payment is dropping by close to a hundred bucks.  I did a little jig of celebration when I got off the phone.

Now, I sitting here at my laptop, second-guessing my decision.  I've found no reason to doubt the good fortune of this refinance.  It's just my nebbishy, Woody Allenishy nature.  I tend to look for the dark cloud of every silver lining.  I need just to be happy about this opportunity.  Think of it as answered prayer.

I'm going for a run tonight while my daughter is at dance rehearsal.  I'm feeling good about myself and my life right now.

Maybe Saint Marty is turning over a new leaf...Nope.  Saint Marty is still looking for that dark cloud.

Call me Saint Nebbish