I’m back from the dead and two days shy of 26. I have a vague understanding of what birthdays mean to most people, but for me they mean sinus-related migraines. Gloomy, I know, but the worst part of spring always rears its ugly head this time of year, if I’m in the U.S. I was lucky the last two years to be in China, where the various plants that grow do not cause immense pain in, on or around my brain.
Twice now I’ve been lucky enough on my drive to work in the morning to see a little old Chinese lady walking. She reminds me so much about my former home. Like the Americans who move to China, she came to the U.S. and kept her independent spirit and stuck to her own culture’s fashions. She usually wears white gloves, arm warmers, a visor and way too many clothes. I half expect to see her with a broom made out of twigs and small tree limbs.
Today I sought the bathroom at work for my moment of once a day ridiculous. I made faces at myself in the mirror and executed an impressive karate kick at nothing in particular. This kind of behavior is a close relative of that of the Strange Faces/Noises Club. A person (me, for instance) has no choice but to indulge privately in strange faces or noises, but I think it’s an opportunity – nay, a privilege – to take part in once a day ridiculous. No awkwardness need be involved. You just do it because you can, sonny.