5 bucks gets you a small meal. 5 bucks will get you some place, not too far. 5 bucks will get you a beer. 5 minutes will let you snooze. 5 minutes late gives you a grace period. 5 minutes early gives you a moment to relax. Dinner for 5 might get you a round table. I’ll call you back in 5 minutes is polite. A 5 minute hug is priceless!
At a recent dinner, I noticed that the dining table surface suddenly included many cellular phones. Each dinner guest placed their cell phone next to their cutlery. During the dinner, these cell phones received frequent glances and for some, the messaging was constant. The questions to iSelf were, “Who are these virtual guests at our dining table? Who is communication with you? Why is this happening, now?”
SPRING IS HERE!!!! So….Let’s have some fun! Occasionally, I have written messages on my friend’s driveways using street chalk. Happy Anniversary! Congratulations on your half-marathon! Happy Birthday to you! I suppose no one can escape my childish escapades. Sometimes I wonder if I am simply immature for my age? I hope I am.
I am embarrassed to say that at this time I haven’t exercised in weeks! Which answers the question, why do I feel like crap? I am close to a month behind in my journal writing. Oh, the thoughts I have wanted to put down on paper and didn’t have the time to. When I get around to filling in those days, I am certain to have forgotten what I initially wanted to say.
There were only a few differences between my jumpsuit and Elvis’. The buttons on my suit were plastic and his were metal. The weight of my suit was somewhat lighter than his. Elvis’ suit was much tighter to his body than mine. I also added the cape and some red satin lining for image effect. However, at the end of the night, my body was exhausted from wearing such a heavy suit. I didn’t dance and sing under hot lights in it. I didn’t sweat like crazy in it. I didn’t perform in front of 30,000 + screaming fans in it. I just wore it and walked around smiling. The next day I needed Advil every four hours to deal with my shoulder and back pains. My knees were also aching from the platform boots. I couldn’t imagine wearing this jumpsuit night after night…
And… Now, I have butterflies of excitement in my stomach. I love this time of year. So many things will happen in the next 50 days which gets me giddy.
My desk is full of papers. I have dozens of emails waiting for replies and regular mail to open. The magazine and newspaper pile has significantly grown. The “To Do” list is very long and also needs my attention. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do…
But…I don’t care. I’m pleasantly in a fog. A glorious fog in fact!
During a gorgeous hot summer night, I was out walking with a couple of girlfriends. While walking the girls started to vent! To vent means to get the steam out. To discuss everything that is causing psychological, emotional, or physical distress. In some cases, venting may cause your arms to swing, feet to stomp, voices to yell, and hair to be pulled. Actually, it may look like a visual display of madness.
I wasn’t a lost person, always looking for themselves. I knew who I was early on. I felt connected to my world and work quite quickly. However, now I would love to talk to my 20-year-old self and say, “Hey, it’s ok to say NO – often. It’s ok not to agree. It’s ok that people won’t like you for being you. It’s ok to be independent. It’s ok to live along your own path even if it’s unpopular. It’s ok to simply be you!”
And… What profession am I talking about? How do you get paid in LOVE? Is actual LOVE the currency? Am I talking about matchmaking? Am I talking about a form of Professional Love? Also… What type of love am I referring to? The love people have for each other, or for animals, or for inanimate objects? Tell me! Which profession pays in love?
An oldie, but a goodie… While growing up, the next tables I sat at were at birthday parties with friends. If you got to sit next to the birthday girl or boy, you were stylin! If you got an icing rosette from the birthday cake you were a princess or prince in the Queen or King’s court. Royalty seating and musical chairs was the fashion then. The tables to follow were in schools during lunch time. Those were more carefully selected and invitations were specific. Not always the friendliest and forgiving of seating situations. Who you sat next to depicted who your friends were and weren’t. These were more complicated seating times. Then we all grew up…
The other morning I woke up to the sound of ticking on my bathroom window. Tick, tick, tick, tick … Stop … Again, tick, tick, tick, tick … Stop. Again and again, the same ticking sound and then it would stop. This pattern repeated for about five minutes. I rolled over in my bed and tried to go back to sleep. I assumed it was a squirrel running about.
Now…is the time. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not when you are on vacation. Not when you have reached your perfect weight. Not only on your birthday. Not when you deserve it. Not when the stars, the moon and the planets are all perfectly aligned.
Today is the day to eat the chocolate.
Oh, how I miss the simple pleasures of receiving mail. When mail passes through the mail slot of my front door, I usually get excited. The anticipation of, “What am I going to receive today”, is fun. But… Lately, I’m disappointed. I’ve been receiving mostly advertisement flyers……. Where are the love letters?
How in the world am I supposed to remember my pin number? It’s not like I have only one. I have many and on a given day I need to access quite a few numbers. My memory isn’t as great as it used to be. Actually, it sucks! Can I blame this and everything else on menopause?
“Dear, don’t bother holding your tongue. Just use a glue stick instead of your lipstick.”
The thought of me taking a glue stick out of my purse instead of a lipstick would be hysterical. I might just use this as a prop one night when I’m out with my girlfriends.
Sometimes not speaking and listening more intently is the best and safest approach to being. You can never be misquoted from what you don’t say!
At first, my diary was a place to put all my confusing adolescent thoughts. Where else was I able to say, “I’m a freak! I’m so in love with Lee Majors, Fonzie and Elvis all at the same time.” Or, “I don’t know why my left boob is bigger than my right boob.” Or, “My F+*#kin English teacher, she’s such a…”
As a writer, I tend to make up a lot of words. I also use the words that I make up. “Simblissity” is one of those words. It means to enjoy the simple pleasures of life in a blissful way.
That’s when he simply said, “It’s your rodeo…own it! Make it yours. You decide how you want it done. You’re the expert. You make the calls. This isn’t your first rodeo. Put on your big boy boots, cowboy hat and get into the ring!” I thought, yaaaa, he’s right! …It is my rodeo. That’s right, Sue…IT’S MY RODEO! IT’S MY FRICKEN RODEO!!!!!
This is not actual ‘food’ that I am talking about. I’m referring to the food which fills your soul. Although food can do this in many ways, I’m dipping deeper down into the bowels of our soul and mind. The space that makes you breath deeper and dream.