Shallow Be My Name

If I’ve heard it once I’ve heard it a million times over the last week. We’re still here. Honestly, who really thought that we wouldn’t be? I have nothing against the Mayans but it seems to me that it would be rather difficult to predict the end of the world, to the day, from 750 years out. I mean I’m sitting here looking at about 7 feet of snow and temps verging on the “impossible to step outside and live” and no one told me that was going to happen. But given my penchant for all things shallow I suppose it’s not surprising that I don’t really place much stock in ancient predictions, spiritual prophecies or anything that smacks of the mysterious because it’s a bit of a crapshoot how that stuff is going to play out. Let’s face it, what it comes down to is if it happens then it’s some kind of inexplicable miracle which we may or may not be around to witness and if it doesn’t it’s not a big deal because nobody actually expected it to anyway. So I’m ambivalent at best, and skeptical enough to refrain from placing an order to Costco for two year’s worth of dried delicacies on which to feast while waiting out the apocalypse in a bunker in my basement where I normally only go to do my laundry.

Now you know I am a woman of my convictions but as of late I’m starting to think there may be a fly in this ointment, a bump in the road, the proverbial achilles in my heel, all of which have caused me to doubt my heretofore tightly held convictions about the world and the mysteries within. What, you ask, has led me to this rather gut-wrenching change of heart? Well let me tell you.

You may remember my mentioning that I have a rather uncanny resemblance to Ms. Streisand, although truth be told I’m taking the word of others on this one as I don’t really see it myself. Nonetheless, I do feel somewhat obligated to pay my respects by attending her latest creative endeavors even when the reviews suggest I would be better off waiting a week or two for the release of the DVD. And so it was that I found myself sitting in a rather sparsely populated movie theatre watching Babs and her on-screen son travel across the country in something smaller than two closely related people should ever cohabitate, and that’s when it happened.

There are a few things I haven’t told you about myself in my previous posts not because I didn’t want you to know them or because they are too personal, but simply because they never really came up. The first is that on my desk at work I have an M & M’s machine that I religiously fill with, what else, M & M’s. And while there are now more kinds of this classic munch than you can count on one hand, I’ve remained loyal to the company roots by selecting the chocolate covered peanut variety as my candy of choice. The second is that every once in awhile you might find me taking a chance or two with a 20 at the slots. Neither of these in and of themselves is notable unless of course you happen to see them being played out on the big screen by someone who is said to look a lot like you.

And that’s exactly what happened at the movie. Without giving too much away I think it is safe to tell you that the opening scene has Babs lying in bed crunching on none other than peanut M & M’s and that they play a rather significant part in the plotline of this film which eventually finds the Mom/Son duo spending the night in Las Vegas. Before you know it Babs is feeding a 20 (maybe two) into her favourite one armed bandit. Now if Babs and I had shared only one strikingly similar characteristic I probably would have given it a chuckle and thought nothing more of it. But at the moment Babs left the check-in line at the hotel and sat down at the “frogger” machine I knew something bigger was going on, that there was more than coincidence here and perhaps even the work of a force that I can never hope to understand. It is clear to me now that all of the years I have spent listening and responding to “do you know who you look like” have been leading to this very moment, and that our similarities (Babs and mine that is) transcend a mere physical resemblance to something so much more significant and meaningful.

I know, you’re thinking “what is she talking about? It’s just a movie. Babs doesn’t really eat M & M’s in bed!”  Well she might or she might not but the chances are probably a lot higher than that whole Mayan thing. And I’m guessing that one or two of you out there thought, for even just a moment, that there was an ever so small chance that today we might not still be here.

Barbra, can you hear me? I think we may have some kind of mystical connection.

Here’s wishing all my shallow and “not so much” friends a very Merry Christmas.