A few weeks ago, I dabbled around with one of these Internet quizzes and learned that I was Thor, god of thunder and lightening. Some who have witnessed me in a loss of temper would probably heartily attest to the accuracy of that result, though I’ve admittedly mellowed out considerably in my old age (which is fortunate for the rest of the family, considering that everyone else’s behavior would often solicit such violent outbursts had I not learned this present respectable level of self-control).

But there is yet another evidence that I may indeed possess some god-like powers, heretofore untapped. In addition to the fact that my grandson swears I possess a god-like omnipresence (in that it seems I somehow know when he is doing something he isn’t supposed to, no matter the physical distance between us) I also seem to carry a pretty powerful electric charge.

I have seen cartoons and movies in which super-heros (and sometimes, villains) can shoot fire from their fingertips. Well, let me tell you, those dudes have NOTHING on ME. In spite of wearing rubber-soled shoes, I am still unable to walk through our building at work without being painfully zapped by every metal object I get near -- mind you, it is not necessary that I TOUCH it -- I have seen ‘fire’ literally jump 2" between metal objects to my fingertips (witnesses will attest to the truth of this claim). And no, I do NOT shuffle my feet. I even manage to muster a painful jolt through the plastic that covers the metal armrest on my chair. I have this problem to some extent, year-round, but it gets notably worse in the winter months. My co-workers, even those with whom I share a cubicle, do not seem to have this problem, so it clearly cannot be attributed to some electrical issues within our work environment. There is simply no other explanation other than "I have the POWA!"

Now, for all you other ‘Thors’ out there in Mindsay land:

I have learned a new technique for defending myself from these painful encounters. When I leave my chair at work, I simply pick up my pica pole (a long, slender, metal ruler of sorts) and use the tip of it to discharge whatever excess electrical charge I may be harboring at the moment. I suppose that due to the length of the pole, I do not feel those inevitable zaps, though the blue and white sparks and subsequent popping sounds emanating from the tip of the pica pole make it evident that ‘connections’ are indeed being made.

My next challenge is to figure out a way to harness and redirect this inherent ‘power’ of mine, into some USEful venue. Just think of the money I could save on the power bill! How delighted I would be if I could tell this local area band of THIEVES (they go by the name ‘Duke Power’) to suck my toe jam...and CHOKE on it.

Oops...that remark smacked of my former ‘un-mellowness.’ Sorry about that... *as she entertains an evil grin*