“Whooaaaa!  What was that?” the Eldest and Sweet Pea said in unison when my knee made a loud “POP” a few nights ago.

“Just my knee.”

Sweet Pea huffed, “Oh my gosh Mom!  Why don’t you go to bed and get off your knee?”

“Yeah,” agreed The Eldest.  “You know something always happens when Chief is out of town!”

I couldn’t argue.  It’s true.  Catastrophe befalls this household every time he leaves on business.  This time, however, the catastrophe was that I didn’t go with him.

But first, some back story.  January, 2011; I’d had two bunion surgeries in four months, subsequently spending a lot of time working from home with Chief.  One day, I interrupted his incessant pen-clicking with the statement, “Geez!  Isn’t it about time that you go out of town?”

I didn’t realize the strength of my own powers.  He was gone six of the next eight weeks.  I didn’t really want him gone that long.  I’ve since learned to harness the magic.

But in the witchcraft world—which I know nothing about—I imagine that the perpetual “good vs. evil” battle organically balances itself.  That would explain the backlash of my spell; something goes horribly wrong every time Chief travels.

• The microwave blew up like a nuclear reactor plant.
• The air conditioning blew during record-breaking heat.
• Emergency trip to doggie hospital.
• I blew my knee out.

So after listening to Chief brag about Alabama’s recent umpteenth National Championship—like there wasn’t a person on this planet who didn’t know Alabama would win—I used my “abilities” to send Chief on a quick business jaunt.

Within a few days, Chief got word he was going to California.  (There’s that whole organic balancing thing again.  Yes, I wanted him to go away but not to SUNNY CALIFORNIA in the middle of freaking winter!)

But this time, because I incessantly bugged him about it, Chief found a round-trip flight to California for $301.00 for me.  “We can probably swing that,” he said.  While Sweat Pea and I were out running errands, I was mentally packing my suitcase and working up my “elevator pitch” for a book I’m writing in case I ran into an agent.

Then I got a text.  “It’s going to be too hectic.  Next time.”

Jerk.

I’ve been looking for dishes for the last two years.  I know it seems irrelevant, but stick with me.  I hadn’t been able to find any that I liked…until that day.  Standing in Kroger.  Reading Chief’s text.

$306.00 later—Booyah!  I’ve got a new set of dishes, platters, serving bowls, and place mats.  How’s that for some organic balancing?

Aren’t they cute?

But the Universe wasn’t done messing around with me.  During his trip, Chief texted that he was having drinks at the hotel bar where he just so happened to be chatting up an independent film producer and her husband.  Are you kidding me?

When he called me later that night to insist that Karma was once again on his side, I said.  “Not so fast buddy.  That could have been ME pitching my book idea to her which she would love and, in turn, make into an independent film that would win the Sundance Award!”

Silence.

“Betcha dinner off those new dishes will taste a little different now, huh?”

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