Que Sera Sera and how I want to smack that Doris Day.
This is a tough one for me, to leave things alone. Relinquishing control has never been one of my strong points. How could it be since I am the ever great, all, powerful Oz, as they say.
It’s not as if I don’t know how futile it is to try to make things happen rather than allowing them to take their own natural shape.
After all, forcing events can be downright disastrous like trying to get your size 9 foot into a 5 1/2 strappy Manolo. Even if you succeed is the pain ever worth it?
Yes.
Alright, no.
In 12 Step it comes under the umbrella of the 3rd Step – Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.
That’s a hot one for me.
God, who I’m mad at a good part of the time, is supposed to be in charge? Hmm, the rate things are going I’m not sure I can even get him on the phone.
So instead of waiting for him I spend my life wheeling and dealing; hustling for work, getting up at 5 a.m. to get my writing in. If one more person tells me I look exhausted I’m going to assault them with my overpriced under eye cream.
I admire the woman who can let whatever it is go: money issues, men, all that is age-related. It’s an art to trust that it will all work out for good in the end.
I always think, when I’m in the shelter making up my cot guarding my Prada bag while eating spaghettios then I’ll know for sure God never did get around to popping my file… but might still one day. 
(Don’t you love the can?)
Sometimes I can actually propel myself into this faith filled mode until I see a homeless man in a doorway, then I’m right back on the worry train.
ALL ABOARD!!!
I do look back and think of previous crises when in the 11th hour something short of a miracle occurred. I then ask myself, why would you think Susannah that couldn’t happen again?
Good question.
It’s right up there with, why is vaginal dryness a necessary part of aging again?
What’s my crisis? Life and trying to live it on its terms rather than my own.
Throw in Fear as a chaser: false evidence appearing real (try getting that on a T-shirt) and you have one hell of an emotional cocktail.
I can’t watch the news for this reason. I start Googling gas masks wondering if they come in colors rather than just that drab army green (I only wear it in December, green that is).
Canned goods are taking up much too much space in my cupboards and I’m thinking of pawning the letter Mike Nichols wrote me politely saying, ‘no, I cannot legally read your screenplay.’ I figure it has to be worth something.
I wish I could end this on a higher note than B-Flat but, as Scarlett said in Gone With The Wind… 
(Look at that face. It could singe a mustache)
I’ll worry about this tomorrow because unfortunately tomorrow is another fucking day.
Okay, so I paraphrased just a tiny bit.
SB
