Mapping

I had a skin tag removed from my neck today. He couldn't snip it off fast enough; I'd been THIS close to doing it myself, except that according to the Mayo site there can be bleeding to staunch and it might require more than pressure to do it. And indeed, the snipping was an utter non-event, but it took an electric zap to shut down the vein. Skin tags, much like hairy moles, remind me of a woman from my childhood--the wife of one of Dad's gun club pals. Caroline was her name, and she was as round as she was tall, and covered in moles and skin tags. For whatever reason, she favored sleeveless dresses with plunging necklines--maybe because plus-sized clothing was hard to come by 40 years ago, back before we fattened ourselves into, well, a demographic. And so--poor Caroline, her skin a frenzied map--I would slide past her quickly whenever we visited, always afraid she'd hug me, and my face would end up in that cleavage, and my cheek would come away with attachments.

Their house is boarded up now, and falling down. You don't see a lot of that in these parts; people buy lots, plow down the houses, and build mansions. But the lot borders what's turned into a busy 4-lane road--a commuting artery--and I guess they picked poorly back in the day.

Who knew what would come?

***

The kids came running to me when I got home today. "There's a spirit in the neighbor's house!" they told me, all earnest and alarmed and thrilled. "We went into the basement and we felt a presence," M said.

"It's true!" L said. The neighbor's boy told them that he thinks the ghost is there because it's angry with him. M, who has seen her share of Ghost Whisperer, thinks the spirit has unfinished business and needs their help to cross over.

I don't like her getting her cosmology from primetime, and that more than anything makes me want to seize and adjust. How many times have I talked to them about TV and make believe? But in this case I have no credible alternative. And I talked to ghosts for a time, too, as a child--perched in our attic, hands shaking, believing and not believing all at the same time.

She was online tonight researching. Read the bit about how the temperature in a room drops when a spirit is present. "Oh My God!" she calls out. "It was FREEZING down there!"

***

Cindy Sheehan's packed it in and headed home. Fed up and discouraged, it seems. She was a bumbling activist--reaching well beyond her area of expertise, and hard to defend at her most bumbling. But it's rare these days to see somebody stand up--to speak their convictions, however they can, and take it on the chin like a grownup. I'm sorry to see her whipped.