2.18.20

In order to avoid another go ’round about the weather, I asked Maga if she’d had any visitors lately.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Quite a few.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

“They were, you know, out-of-towners.”

“I assumed so.”

“Were they relatives? Friends? Neighbors?”

“As I say, they were out-of-towners.”

Perhaps if you say something repeatedly, it’ll be true. (Like if you stand in front of a mirror at night and say… you know what, nope. Never mind. Not going there.)

“Are you coming for my birthday?” Maga asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“How old will I be?”

“99.”

“I hope I last.”

“You will.”

“I’m planning on it.”

Maybe she should say it aloud a few more times to make it so?

“What airport are you going to to get to me?” she asked.

“Denver.”

“Where?”

“DIA.”

“Oh, yes. That’s near where I live.”

“Yup. It’s not that far from you.”

“It was built recently, so it’s convenient and handy and so on.”

One, it was built in 1995. I guess when you’re 99 and 11 months old, that is recent, so… Two, she’s stating things into fact again. This time she was at least using a thesaurus. Three, I gotta try this speaking things into existence gig.

“I’m going to win the lottery. I’m going to win the lottery. I’m going to win the lottery.”

*waits for it to start raining money. or men.*

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