Y’all Keep Laughing

Last week a co-worker told me I’m basically Dwight.

Because I’ve somehow gotten mixed up in a prank war. That I’m not actually playing.

I think I’m more of a Michael, but whatevs.

People just don’t understand me.

I’ve been sedentary for a week. Partly due to my porch injury. Mostly due to my lack of interest in anything fit related.

So I spent the weekend doing non-active things. While my Ragnarock ladies beasted the DC Sunset Ragnar.

Went to the Greek Festival with Rogue and Fall Risk on Saturday.

After eating the delicious food that I made the lovely couple next to me in line choose for me, we visited the market area.

There is a lot of Jesus and Mary in the Greek marketplace. (And also Putin and the Romanovs…?)

So, when the dude walked over and asked if we had any questions, I just wanted to know what I was holding. What. Not who. What.

It was a picture of Mary and then all these little box things surrounding her and I just wasn’t sure if it was something you hang or something you play with.

But when I held the odd not quite puzzle not quite picture thing up and said, “Yes. What is this?”

He looked me up and down, apparently assessing my Mexincaness and determining that I should be Catholic and, thus, very familiar with who I was holding a picture of.

And very slowly replied, “That is the Virgin Mary…”

Rogue had to walk away.

I stood there for a minute, holding the Virgin Mary, debating whether or not to clarify my question. As he just stared at me. Judgingly. Then I slowly put the Virgin Mary down and walked away.

It’s fine.

The world doesn’t have to understand me.

Because yesterday, I discovered my purpose.

At Blue Ridge Axe Throwing.

Y’all.

This is what I was made for.

Ok, not the axe throwing, specifically. Because I didn’t, say, show up with my very own freshly sharpened axe in its very own axe coat. Who knew axe coats were a thing?

But apocalypse survival.

That is what everything in my life is preparing me for.

Ability to eat and enjoy unrefrigerated perishables? Yes. Comfortable living in filth? No issues. Complete disregard for my own safety while wielding an axe? What could possibly go wrong? Immediately dropping to the floor and rolling onto my back upon entering my friend’s house to make her dog like me? Yeah, ok. That one didn’t work. But it’s my willingness to do it that’s important here. That skill is gonna help me survive.

So y’all keep judging.

Imma be over here eating my expired foods and sharpening my axe.

We’ll see who has the last laugh.