I’m trying very hard to normalize my life after all that has transpired this past couple of years, but this Alice, alas, has fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole. I tumbled . . . rolled . . . lurched . . . lunged . . . plummeted and finally crashed. It was truly one helluva drop. I did not land on my feet or gracefully arrive. Rather, I came to an abrupt, teeth-jarring halt flat on my ass. Blessed be an ample and cushy posterior. You never know when you’re gonna need one.

There was a bottle at the bottom tagged “Drink Me” and, as it was not also marked “Poison,” I drank. This served to shrink me enough to get a job. Now, from 8-to-5, I am a wee, tiny version of myself. There was much concern that my significant experience, out-going personality and self-confidence might topple the precarious arrangement of cups, saucers and other china at the Tea Party; therefore, I must regularly spike my tea in an effort to remain adequately small as to be non-threatening . . . mostly.

We all know the importance of appeasing the volatile Queen of Hearts when in Wonderland. I strive accordingly during my daily rounds of Croquet to keep myself and my flamingo out of the way of my personal trio of Red Queens. Despite numerous cries of “Off with her head,” I have to-date managed not to get the axe. I – like Alice – realize common sense and sanity have little to do with surviving in this world on the other side of the looking glass.

My training is by osmosis with the dormouse designated my primary source of information; at least, they keep telling me – figuratively – to “remember what the dormouse said.” When I ask what it is the dormouse said, they go all Mad Hatter on me and can only respond, “I can’t remember.” I keep telling myself there will be an “aha” moment and suddenly Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum will start making sense or the Cheshire Cat will solidify. Instead – for now – things just keep getting . . . curiouser and curiouser!

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