Signs and Serial Killers

Betty, age 4, perfectly capturing the moment.
ENOUGH WITH PUMPKIN, PEOPLE!
No pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin lattes,
pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin potato chips
(Okay, I probably made that up...no WAIT, I
googled it. It exists. NOOOOOOO!)

It's been a while, right? October hit with the force of a thousand pumpkins flung by an industrial grade catapult, which is one of the main things pumpkins are good for, except the roasted seeds.

But I digress.

It has been a busy few weeks. Choir, orchestra, volleyball, school dances and football games, long division...and yes, getting ready for Halloween.

One of the small things that's given me some laughs during all the craziness is a little Internet meme I came across based on astrology. I've always been skeptical of astrology, mainly because I never wanted to be a Virgo. They seem so fussy, so particular, so...uptight. I am not detail oriented, I argued...how boring! At which point, a friend gently reminded me of the surgical precision with which I dissect other people's writing as an editor at work. Okay, fine, I said, but I don't enjoy it. And then the next day caught myself spending an hour researching the correct use of punctuation in legal citations. Oops.

There are some less boring aspects of being a Virgo, though. Idealism, creativity, integrity, poetry...and the ability to beat the crud out of a serial killer (after an initial freak out period). Here's the meme:

Now, this is hilarious, because it is pretty much dead on (I know, bad pun). I shared it with Eleanor, and she immediately started cracking up, as did one of my closest friends, because any major thing that happens, I legitimately lose my mind for anywhere from 5 minutes to 24 hours...then promptly settle down and get to business and solve whatever the problem is. In fact, these days I can recognize the early onset hysteria and tell myself, "Wow. That even sounds irrational to me, and I'm the one thinking it. Okay, self. I'm giving you 30 minutes to write about how horrible this is and how it might actually result in the end of life as we know it, and then we're going to bed so we can be back to normal in the morning." And that pretty much works.

It is also pretty accurate for the rest of the household. Bruce and Betty are Sagittariuses, and they would talk to anyone and try to sympathize with them and understand their point of view. Eleanor is a Scorpio, and all of us, including Eleanor, agree she is most likely to kill the killer. In fact, if there is ever a zombie apocalypse, I highly recommend tracking down Eleanor and getting into her group. It would totally increase your survival chances, at least until you become sick, injured, or any sort of liability, at which time she will immediately cut off your leg and leave you for bait so the rest of the group can escape. Don't be that way---you know it needs to happen.

So this is how I'd imagine this going down:

Serial killer brandishes knife.

Me: Ohshitohshitohshitohshit.

Eleanor: O.M.G.!!! <exasperated sigh> Which one of you IDIOTS let in the serial killer?

Nobody says anything. We all look at Betty, and Betty looks down guiltily, because we all know she was the most likely culprit. He probably looked lonely.

Eleanor: Fine. I guess I'll have to take care of this, LIKE I DO EVERYTHING. <Stomps off.>

Serial killer: You're all gonna die.

Me: Okay, I got this. <starts looking around for weapon> Nobody panic!

Adorable, cheerful, and very clearly comfortable embracing
their inner crazies....yep, they are so ready to be accomplices!

Betty: That's a cool knife, Mr. Serial Killer. I like the blade. It sparkles. Wanna see my fidget spinner? It sparkles, too.

Bruce: I'm taking fencing lessons. You want me to show you the stance? Here, it's like this.

Bruce goes over and gives the serial killer pointers on knife movements. Betty borrows his blade and slashes the sofa cushions, then wanders off to get a sock so she can make a sock puppet with all of the fluff from the pillows.

Eleanor <returns>: SERIOUSLY? What is WRONG with you people?

In fact, if the serial killer gets anywhere within
two feet, he gets impaled with the bow.
Look at that face.

Serial Killer <somewhat disoriented, takes pillow fluff out of his hair and grabs his knife back from Bruce>: Um...I'm gonna kill you? I think?

Eleanor pulls out a gun.

Bruce: No, Eleanor! He's just misunderstood!

Betty: I am opposed to hurting people. Or chickens or pigs. Except for bacon.

Bruce: He's got feelings!

Eleanor <shoots serial killer>: And now he's feeling dead. I am NOT cleaning this up. I got rid of the serial killer; you people clean up the corpse.

Bruce and Betty: BUT, BUT...

Eleanor <puts up hand>: Nope. We're done here.*** I'm gonna go watch Netflix.

At which point I immediately begin organizing clean-up and corpse disposal, notify the necessary authorities, and bake cookies to comfort Bruce and Betty for the loss of their new friend, while Googling how to get bloodstains out of sofa cushions and trying to find the cats. Because, you know, I'm a Virgo...and that's what we do.

***Eleanor is known in the family as the Arbiter of Done. At some point in any conversation, it will cross some arbitrary line, and Eleanor will declare, "Okay, we're done here." My boss wants to hire her to follow him to meetings and declare them done, reckoning it would be a huge time saver. I think she has an excellent future in organizational consulting.