Each morning you wake is a chance to try something new, go somewhere new, be someone new. It’s doesn’t need to be a big change. It can be as simple as reading a book, or turning left instead of right, or opening your mind to contemplative ideas. With the dawning of that new day, don’t let your opportunity be wasted.
This week’s Studio30 Plus theme is “something new,” and/or a photo prompt.
Submitted to Skywatch Friday, Season 6: Episode 38
So, this just happened. So recently in fact, that I am still laughing about it.
I got up early this morning to run errands. I had a hair cut, then I did a little shopping, had a little lunch, was having an all around nice day. I’m on my way home when IT happened.
The road I was driving has three lanes. At the outskirts of town, the three lanes merge down to two, with the outer right lane becoming a turn only. Inevitably, someone will freak out not realizing it’s now a turn lane, or will go all asshat-ish and race ahead, cutting people off to get into the through lane.
That’s what happened to me today… the asshattery part. Someone in a new model Dodge Charger blew past me and did a forced merge. Now, I was having a great day, and didn’t want to let this guy be a buzz kill. I didn’t start swearing or rudely gesturing, and I didn’t even use my horn… that’s a big deal right there. (Okay, I did call him an asshat, but in the nicest possible way.)
Not 50 yards down the road, this asshat in the Charger, the guy who just had to get in front of me, is rolling along, when a second asshat in the left lane wants to be where the first asshat is, and proceeds to change lanes. Not a cut-him-off-like-he did-me lane change, but a run-him-off-the-road-onto-the-gravel-shoulder lane change. The Charger was throwing stones, fish-tailing, swerving all sideways, before finally correcting and getting back on the highway… scary stuff.
This is going on right in front of me. I’m braking hard, checking left and right to find the best probably escape route should the Charger go airborne. But, I am also laughing so hard I’m crying, while simultaneously breathlessly muttering “ohshitohshitohshitohshit.”
I certainly didn’t wish anyone harm, but the karmic irony of the situation was priceless, and hilarious.
*Editorial note: No asshats, or muscle cars, were harmed in the making of this post.
Staying above the fray, out of the drama and turmoil, may be the safest place to wait out the mayhem, but it’s not the most interesting vantage point.
Submitted to Skywatch Friday, Season 6: Episode 36
Today I shall behave as if this is the day I will be remembered.” ~ Theodor Seuss Geisel
If I had to describe my personality, I’d say I’m fairly introverted. I don’t typically go out of my way to be noticed, staying under the radar whenever possible. I’m not what I would consider memorable.
That is when I can be recognized. From the fringe, where I can’t be readily identified, I can be totally psycho, but that’s not how I truly want to be remembered.
I don’t want to be remembered as the crazy motorist in the blue Honda, yelling obscenities and making rude gestures at anyone she deems incompetent to share a road with her.
I don’t want to be remembered as the ranting woman in mismatched exercise wear, with her mismatched dogs, screaming at cars speeding passed her during her morning walks.
I don’t want to be a doormat who allows others to take advantage of her stubborn belief that people are who they say they are, and avoids conflict instead of speaking up for herself.
What I do want to be remembered for is that I was that friend you could count on for a shoulder to cry on, an ear to vent to, the one who could make you laugh so hard you snorted, or the one who made you glad you knew her.
What I want people to remember about me is that I was the very best mother I could be. That my kids were raised to be happy, compassionate, funny, smart, and productive adults. That they are the type of people you want to be friends with too.
(I have only one person to impress as far as being a wife is concerned… so, yeah)
I want to be remembered well, with smiles and warm feelings.
On any given day, I should be able to say I live my life like my eulogy depends on it.
Week 10: Inspired by Dr. Seuss, honoring his March 2 birthday. I chose this quote: “Today I shall behave as if this is the day I will be remembered.”
*Photo venue: Jesse Rodgers Memorial Cemetery, Fort Walton Beach, FL
Tuesday was a beautiful day! The sun was out, temps were climbing back into bearable ranges, and I was actually motivated to DO something.
I headed outside to prep my raised planters. Recent monsoons rains, made the backyard a smidge marshy, but other than feeling like I was walking on wet sponges, the prep work went really quickly. Now, I have two plots ready for peppers, herbs, and maybe zucchini.
The warm weather was also an impetus to clear out the mine field in our backyard.
Take two Labs, mix in long months of cold and wet weather, pour into one large yard, stir in Mother Nature, and it makes for a lot of dog poop. A LOT OF POOP. I got out shovels, gloves and a 10 gallon bucket, which I quickly filled.
The haz-mat clean-up took on a sort of scavenger hunt mystic. I discovered that The Girls really do have a strange menu of things they will ingest ~ batting from an old stuffed toy, styrofoam packing peanuts from Christmas, and cat litter.
Yes, we also have a cat. And, yes we’ve had to install barricades and a moat around the litter box… nuff said ’bout that.
To all my northern friends, those who still have a few feet of snow in their yards, I don’t envy your jobs once all that ice melts.
To all those other pet owners without yards, those who must take twice daily walks for your beloved pets to ‘do their duty’ ~ remember to scoop the poop. I cannot tell you how nasty it is to have to clean some other dog’s crap out of my yard. It’s bad enough when it belongs my own pets.
*From the Vault of IMSO: originally published Feb. 26, 2010. Edited and updated.
Spinning dinner plates, balanced precariously on spindly broomsticks, wobble out of control. Multi-colored balls, handcrafted out of orphan socks, circle my head in erratic, elliptic orbits while I attempt to keep a hacky sack, stuffed with worries, suspended in the air, frantically hopping from foot to foot.
My life is a circus, and I am a Bag Lady Clown. Rheumy eyes milky from sleepless nights, dishpan hands shaky with stress, I juggle my wifely and motherly duties. Never letting any fall, always keeping them moving, so I don’t have to think about all of them at the same time.
The Trifecta challenge this week is: Juggle [transitive verb \ˈjə-gəl\] 3: to handle or deal with usually several things (as obligations) at one time so as to satisfy often competing requirements
The 100 Word Challenge is to tell a story in only 100 words. This week’s theme is: ‘Milky’
She survived two husbands and three children. Living alone in her family home for nearly 30 years, she was well-known in her community. Always ready with a pot of homemade chicken soup for the sick, a hot-from-the oven pie for new neighbors or hand-sewn quilts for the babies.
Her church had a waiting list of congregants wanting to help her with any daily needs. It was a joy to spend time with her, listening to her stories. But, she was tired, so very tired.
With her last breath, “I’ve done enough, it’s time to go home.”
The 100 Word Challenge, to tell a story in only 100 words. This week’s theme is ‘Enough’
When I was a teen, my aunt and several women in her church “adopted” an elderly parishioner named Miss Estes. Occasionally, I would join my aunt when she visited. Miss Estes looked like she was at least 100 years old.
She and her younger brother lived in a ramshackle shack in rural Tennessee. They had no running water. They filled jugs from a well about 20 yards from their house. They had no central heat, nor indoor plumbing. Their three-room cabin warmed only by a coal-burning stove. An outhouse sat behind the cabin at the edge of the woods.
One day, my aunt asked me to stay the night with Miss Estes. Her brother was out of town, and there was no one else who could come over. It was an experience I don’t think I’ll ever forget. This woman, who lived in what I considered abject poverty, was the most cheerful and loving person. She didn’t see herself as poor, because she was rich in other things. She had a home, food, warmth, and caring friends.
It was a humbling lesson.
