Knock on Wood

When did life change? It has been such a slow migration that I had not noticed that my hopes for the future are so unlike the desires of my past. That is until this morning while sitting in my chair, sipping the elixir of life and ruminating on my realm, did I become cognizant of the fact that all of my current daydreams are for my children and the opportunities that their futures could hold.

I have to allow, that at first unease took hold as I considered the possibility that maybe I had given up on actively living, merely because I could not conjure up a new direction for myself. And then it hit me. I am happy with my life as is. I don’t need to climb any more mountains to attain accolades and experiences. Everything I want is all around me or in me already.

Sure, I would like to have better health, more money, less laziness, and most of all a better walk with God. But really, if nothing happens to railroad the current status quo, I would be satisfied to reside in this sweet spot for quite some time. Where the only thing I might pray for in my morning musings, is for nothing catastrophic to pay a call and stay for an extended visit.

So, when did life change? Did I finally grow up? Who would have thought such a thing could happen. I think I am going to like being old, that is if I can find my glasses.

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The Hazy Days of Summer

I used to think I was in bifocal denial. This lack of appropriate eyewear causes such dysfunction in my everyday life that it would be practical to capitulate to their necessity. Instead I babble on about their exorbitant cost and the unsuitability of current frame styles. But in all honesty, I like my obscured vision of the world most of the time.

This is particularly true in the brutal heat of summer. Isn’t it common knowledge that it is gracious to put a filter on the sweaty, shiny visage of your friends and family? So really, I am not cheap and perhaps a bit vain; I am only being so exasperating for you.

It is all for you that I intend to prolong the hazy days of summer into the misty days of fall, which of course must meld into the dim days of winter, but in the meantime, if you happen to see me squinting and grumbling about my perpetually misplaced reading glasses, please help, because really, it is all about you.

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A Grand Adventure

Recently I realized that I have spent my life creating endless dialogues and stories in my mind for my own private entertainment. This unexpected awareness has me fiddling with the prospect of writing these ramblings down. This could be a new adventure.

However, to go on an adventure will take trust. And what better to try out trust on, than on something that is really nothing. Thoughts have no tangible existence.

Yet, their nothingness must have a somethingness, because it creates in me, a wake you up in the dead of the night panic.  It must be that this something, which I try to pretend is nothing, is me.

So, until I desire to be something more than nothing; to abandon my anonymity. I will have a difficult time embarking on a truly grand adventure.

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Gizmos and Doodads

I found a gizmo on the floor outside my room this morning. It enabled the resurgence of long forgotten memories. The pleasure of owning something small and intricate, the hours spent probing and manipulating its moving parts, dreaming about all the many outlandish things it could accomplish, the ownership of a treasure beyond worth.

Unfortunately, this pleasure usually only lasts until you grow-up and discover the gizmos intended use. But today, I managed to enjoy the journey back. It wasn’t as exciting as when I was young, because my imaginings had to struggle to try to reach beyond the practical.

Then I was informed that the treasure belonged to my grandson. This was the best part of all. With the return of his treasure, came my awareness of his dreams to come, and this made me appreciative of the joy my old memories had brought to me.

The saying, “Children are a gift from God” had new meaning for me today. Children are wonderfully capable of reminding us of the joy available, if we will but only dream a little.

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Note to self: Listen

The first instruction in a parenting handbook should be to listen. Frequently, I forget to give my children credit for intelligence and insight beyond my own. To my ongoing chagrin, this “frequently” is on the heavier side of the scale, which often makes me the loser in our conversations.

My conversational skills stink, and that is being generous. I either don’t participate at all, or I monopolize the whole thing. To cut myself a tiny bit of slack, I tend to not ask questions, because I don’t want to lead someone into an area they might desire not to share. I don’t consciously think of this when interacting with others, but it is there and inhibiting all the same. This unconscious politeness can sometimes come across as disinterest and self-absorption.

To get back to listen, one of my daughters read a post of mine. She started to share an awareness it elicited, and I didn’t really listen. If I had, I would not have cut her off to pontificate on all the thoughts that were left out of the post for privacy’s sake. Not only did I lose an opportunity to know her better, and to see beyond myself and grow from her insight; it must have pained her to not be listened to, because this was a case of self-absorption, not unconscious politeness

Grrrrrrr…… Note to Self: Listen

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Shush!

Sleep seems to be a figment. I was almost there, but alas, I fell semi-asleep before I was prepared. The need to roust myself for cleanliness sake, has chased away the possibility of easy slumber anytime soon. What should I do, watch a movie, read a book, play solitaire, or write? Perhaps I will just turn everything off, close my eyes, and reside with the voices in my head as I will sleep to do its thing…….. Shush!

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Mea Culpa

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Twas the 4th and I singed the ties that bind. There’s not much I can say, you see I’m a mom, and a dragon mom to boot. Yes of course that’s a mimsy excuse, I could have been nicer, more circumvent, less galumphing. If it had been about me, I might have burbled for a bit and let it go; I’m lazy like that, and prefer everything beamish. Unfortunately, when  one interferes with a dragons offspring they must beware the jaws that bite, the claws that catch, and the flames that will ensue. So next time, and there will always be a next time with me, I will just have to remember to go outside and gyre and gimble in the wabe until I slay my frumious temper. I suppose if that doesn’t work I can always climb into one of the holes all that spinning will create and reside with the Tove, it shouldn’t be so bad, I so do like cheese.

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