Don't Take Yourself so Seriously

I don't.

Unfortunately I take other people VERY seriously. Every look, expression, word, even body language.

I had a book on body language in the seventies and it stuck.

I don't like it, they don't like it, nobody likes it.

I go round and round in my head, "what did that mean" "why did they say that" "what's that look for". I'm surprised I haven't checked myself into a mental ward. How can I not take myself seriously, yet take everything else so much to heart?

Many, many people take me seriously when they shouldn't. I find myself making a statement, waiting three seconds and saying "I was kidding" I see a lot of blank expressions throughout my day. I'm not always kidding. Sometimes its a great release to leave people with zingers, walk away, and keep them guessing. It feels good.

Seriously.

Death to Ants

I am not a bad person. But sometimes I think bad things. I am not always politically correct.

I wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, yeah I would hurt a fly, and I hate ants ~ I'm positively cruel to ants. (especially the teeny ones) When there are too many ants in my house, I fe-fi-fum over with a large strip of clear packing tape and take out as many of the little buggers as I can. I enjoy watching their little legs squirm as they try to get away. My only fear is that somehow the other ants will know what I did and decide to have a funeral.

I guess I need to buy a black dress.

Denim Chick

When I was a kid we still had strict dress codes in school. The girls wore dresses or skirts with socks or stockings. I don't remember what year it was when schools went liberal, it was sometime during my junior or senior year of high school. That was when I truly started my "denim chick" liberation.

Comfort ruled.

I wore my bell bottoms everyday (maybe even the same ones). Back then we wore them until they wore out, I sewed calico cotton patches all over mine. When the knees got so bad you either cut them and made them into a skirt or cut offs. Rips and tears were cool. 

I still wear jeans most days, I still make them into cut offs and skirts and handbags. I have no idea how many garments I own made out of denim ~ a lot. I really only feel like my true self when I wear denim. When I go to the beach I leave my cut offs on with my bathing suit. I don't see other women like this on the beach any more. If the blue is not some shade of denim I will not wear it. Of course chambray is completely acceptable.

For me, denim never fades.

Missing You

It hits me when I least expect it. I’m driving and suddenly a certain line in a song makes me miss you. Songs written for lovers not Daughters missing Fathers. Sometimes it is just a moment captured by a picture in my brain frozen in time. I miss who you were, who I was, who we were.

Mostly I miss the life I never knew.

Like a fantasy that has been concocted in my brain. It's not that I ever really made up a story, it's more like stories I've seen time and again in movies.

When certain things get talked about a sensitivity rises from a narrow well in my soul. Major life events, things that are important in a young girls life, take me back ~ even if it is no longer me it is happening to.

I am no longer a young girl.
But there are things that no amount of time can erase.

Practically Naked

Witness now the downfall of my morning's acceptable clothing to drive my child to school in.

In the beginning I would walk my daughter through the school yard, chit chat with the other parents and greet the teachers. I would have my clothes on for work, my hair brushed, a bit of make up on and my teeth cleaned. The weather was nice and the year was fresh and new.

It was a slow demise. As the year progressed she no longer needed to be walked through the school yard. She was more comfortable with her surroundings. I could now drop her off and be home alone for thirty minutes. This was the beginning of the end. First I stopped applying make up. When the winter came I would just throw a coat over whatever I had on. Then I started wearing a Baseball Cap with a ponytail. Last but not least I wasn't going to be talking to anyone so why brush?

In the Spring, thirty minutes became forty five and the coat was replaced with a sweater. After a few weeks of feeling comfortable with the new me, I started leaving the house in whatever I had slept in. (or at least what wound up on my bed) After all, who's looking? Now I'm just your basic Mom, dropping my kid off in the car. The kind of woman I watched with horror. "How could she leave the house like that?" Well, it's pretty easy.

Today was the last day of school. I rose early, dressed, made up, brushed and went directly to work after the drop off. I was forty minutes early, even my boss noticed.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

STRESS

We may live longer but we're more stressed than our parents ever were.
What good is modern medicine if life is making us more sick and the crap in our food is creating more illness.

Now that I think of it, what about technology, isn't that supposed to be doing us harm? Microwave's, cellphones, starring at monitors all day, cubicles with no natural light, no fresh air? Well, maybe fresh air isn't a good thing anymore either.

When was the last time you had a grievance of some sort and you needed to talk to a live person, and found one! Now I'm just stressing myself out thinking about it.

The concept of bigger, faster, better sounds like a good idea, but I wonder. I want to go back to a simpler life, just not too far back. It's not like I want to pump water from the well, or churn butter.

I mean, I'd like to be able to call for an ambulance if I needed one.
But WOULD I need one if things weren't so crazy in the first place?

Time

In 1968 The Chambers Brothers came out with a song "Time has come Today". It was eleven minutes long and at the end of the song, they kept repeating the word TIME at slower and slower intervals. This ending still echos in my head sometimes when I think about the way everything seems so hurried today.

Everyone seems to need instant gratification. Maybe it began with the microwave. Frozen meals, known in the 50's as TV Dinners took about 30 - 45 minutes in the oven. Which seemed fast back then. Now you can throw a hot pocket in the microwave and eat it in as little as 2 minutes. If that isn't quick enough for you try wrapping a hotdog in a bun with a paper towel for forty seconds.

Remember the days when you had to wait a few years for a movie to make it from the theater to TV? Now you can download it in moments.

How much is instant gratification ruining our lives?
How do you teach patience to a child in this hurry up world?

My microwave broke last week. Ugh!