the Lord taketh away

I don’t know if I’m blessed or just lucky. 

Whichever it is, I’m stoked. Ecstatic even. I’m deeply grateful every day for my precious family and my durable body. I’m humbled to be able to live in this rare community in this ridiculously beautiful & progressive region. I have a killer job. I’m a white American middle class man with bitchin’ metabolism. Most days I don’t feel I’ve earned my position on the foodchain– but I accept it with gratitude just like I would accept a better parking spot than the one I probably deserve. What am I supposed to do? 

But are these “blessings” or just luck? 

I’ve said before that good luck is nothing more than the absence of bad luck. I have been exceedingly lucky my whole life to not ever have had an anvil fall on my head from a 3rd story window. Never got psoriasis. I’ve never spontaneously combusted or even been struck by lightening. The superstitious and the faithful among us have more in-common than they might think. What’s the difference? 

oh, don’t worry about Max HE’S FINE

We have been humbled by the outpouring of support & compassion for Max since his potential homelessness was first reported here in January. The longterm security of the spherical black cat who’d lived on Ray & Kathy’s patio since long before they’d lived inside the house had been brought to question as job transfers forced the uprights’ relocation to a feline-free townhouse in lower Snohomish County. As the wicked, animal-hating new owner of the Alabama Hill rambler refused to accept responsibility for Max, we here at the Electric Kool Aid Real Estate leapt into relative action, and within hours, offerings were raining in from the four corners: caviare from France, vodka from Russia, and a case of those boxing Nun puppets from Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu himself. Max was quite moved.

Well, he was moved emotionally, but not physically. The hard fact remained that no matter how many Polynesian coconut bras or Philly Cheesesteaks he raked in, what Max really needed was a home. And who’d have thought that the warmest & most sincere heart on the planet would open up just a mile away, in a neighborhood known as Roosevelt. A posting on the Neighborhood Power website NextDoor.com netted an earnest reply from Charlie who already had a number of cats but who thought Max would fit right in. Whether “fit right in” meant the social dynamic was appropriate, or whether it simply meant “how would anyone even notice one more” is for history to decide. But the for time being, Max and the spoils of his fame– wooden clogs from Holland and a lifetime supply of Kalbi bbq pork from Korea– are safely installed at Charlie’s cozy home down the hill.

And with their load lightened by 18 lbs, Ray & Kathy– exhausted from packing like sellers often are– stood in front of their moving van for a half minute smiling for a snapshot while I shot video. They might still be standing there, I don’t know.

— tMdR