I put Rio down for her nap and headed out to Barnes and Noble. My best friend told me I had to read this and I needed another copy of this so off I went.
On the way there, not even a mile out of our driveway/entrance into the Indy 500, I had to swerve to avoid a turtle in the road. 'Oo,' I thought, 'I should pull over and help that turtle cross' and then the internal 'S/he'll get across. People will see her/him and drive around. I wonder if it's a girl turtle or a boy turtle. I remember when I had 2 turtles and we left them on a radiator and then I had dessicated turtles ...' and 14 sides of my brain had an argument over the sex of the turtle and should I turn around or not turn around.
I turned around.
I turned back around to go to the bookstore. Thing is - the whole rest of the day, including right this minute, has been spent thinking about that turtle. How s/he made it over the line before being pulverized beyond recognition. How it's little body looked, splayed, organs identifiable, shell cracked, strewn. And I have felt sad since.
I think the Universe is telling me something. Something I already know. I'm not a nutcase wandering around looking for big signs, but I got one today. I need to listen better to what I feel is right. Only then can I accept the consequences of action or inaction with any piece of mind. Helping someone or something is always the right thing to do and I've always done so. I've corralled loose dogs, stopped for kids in a roadside fight, had my car kicked by a pissed off asshole yelling at his girlfriend when I offered her a ride, bought meals for folks without homes ... it is my complete way of being to never look the other way. So I feel terrible about this turtle.
What the fuck is the matter with me?
I think I'm feeling a little off my center. I'm desperately grabbing at spare seconds to do things I want to do: make jewelry, blog, organize my desk, read, sleep ... and I've been feeling like my life is some sort of bizarre game show where I wake up and the clock starts and I start running full speed ahead into an arena to do battle with the Predator (that movie scared the shit out of me so hardcore that I am sans shit to this day!) and I am armed with a sponge and some non-toxic cleanser and a list of other things that really really need to get done if I manage to get out alive!!!
And sometimes in that rush, sometimes I move away from the person I have always been. I'm better about efficiently getting to the bookstore - list in hand because I won't have hours to sit on the floor simply looking ... better at time management and understanding infant development and not going insane whilst cleaning the babe's potty 27 times a day and saying 'Good job! One tinkle treat for you!' and not getting pissed off that every time I buy a boatload of a certain tinkle treat she will decide she no longer eats those and making sure the dog has his special tooth squirt after dinner and making cookies for Bear to take to work and changing sheets and sorting recycling and and and ... better at the Sisyphian job that is SAHM-hood but worse about things like moving turtles out of the road.