This is my second attempt to blog. My first attempt was 3 or 4 years ago and I wrote one or two
entries and then…I killed it. This
is typical behavior. I have been a
serial journal killer for years.
Occasionally I come across one of my victims in a box or under a bed or
stashed with the cookbooks. I read
the 4 pages, then thumb through the pages and pages of random thoughts that
were never written down. I am pretty
sure this was a good thing for all journals before age 30. Occasionally my best friend
torturers me with a note I wrote her in high school or middle school. It is so painful to acknowledge yes,
that is my handwriting, I had to be the pinhead who wrote that.
Speaking of my best friend, she is the motivation behind
this particular entry. If I were
to create a life diagram, most of my happiest moments would trace back to her. She introduced me to my husband, she
was next to me when I had my first child, my first trip to New York, Big Bend, Luckenbach TX. You can never under estimate a pilgrimage
to Luckenbach TX. Of course life
isn’t all trips to exotic places and major life events. Into every life a little rain
must fall and in those moments she has always been my soul’s umbrella..
These days we mostly spend our time solving the world’s
problems and working on enlightenment over Thai food a few times a month. Sometimes the enlightenment involves
discussing what giant assholes our husbands can be, or how God forbid we are
turning into our parents. Other
moments are more sublime, like three years ago when Michelle shared with me an
idea she got from a blog. The idea
was not to have a New Year’s resolution but a word to focus on instead. YES!!! I was so in on this plan. Most of my 4 page journals are failed New Year’s resolutions. Most of my half finished paintings are
failed resolutions. And all the
jeans of a certain size…..you see where this is going. The first year my word was
kindness. It was very odd, just by
picking the word; I suddenly became very aware of how many kind things were
going on around me. It was a great
word. It was a year where I needed
to be reminded how important it is and what a difference it makes to the people
you love.
The next year, big gapping hole. I can never remember that word. It must have been a bad pick because honestly, Michelle has
to remind me what I chose. I might
as well have picked the word forget because that would apparently fit.
This year I picked savor. This was a marvelous word. So good I am tempted to stick with it again for next
year. It is acceptable in the
world of word pickers to do that but somehow for me it feels like a cheat. It would be like naming every book
Plot.
But, I get ahead of myself. This whole long lead in is suppose to be about 2013 and the
word savor. When I picked the
word, I envisioned a little man like Hercule Poirot picking up a wine glass,
sniffling it, taking a bit into his mouth, swishing it around and finally
tasting it. But only after
experiencing it completely.
I liked the thought of experiencing life in this way. Not in the hurry-scurry tequila shot way of getting through a day. Of
course there is a time and place for going quick and painless. I can’t exactly picture savoring a pap
smear. In fact a real shot of
tequila beforehand might be the ticket there. But for other things, like a hot shower on a cold day,
hugs, apple pie a la mode I
noticed these things were even more delicious when I took time to see them and
swish them around in my mind. For
me, 2013 has been a 12 course meal of the finest food served on paper
plates.
I tend to be the activity pusher in our family. I am constantly researching the must do
activities going on in our area. I
tend to overload everyone on culture.
At 2 and 3 I took the girls to a Chris Ofili exhibit. They loved it,
they were at the right age to enjoy pictures of monkeys with real elephant dung
incorporated. Yeah, you are always
the right age to enjoy that. At 4
and 5 we went to see Caravaggio, they lovingly refer to that one as the headless
paintings exhibit. This year is
was Peruvian art. See what I mean,
activity pusher. No 5, 6 year old
kid or 48 year old Dad in their right mind says, “Gee, I am dying to go see
Peruvian textile art.” Culture
isn’t all I push. I plan trips,
zoo outings, hikes, as long as it doesn’t involve cleaning the house, I am all
over it. Then came the great
revolt of 2013. Everyone decided
being at home in their jammies was preferable to almost any outing. Oh dear God, in a year where I
picked savor, I was going to have to savor my own home. For Spring Break, we had a
stay-cation. For summer break,
stay-cation. For Thanksgiving,
stay-cation. And here we are at
Winter break, yep, I have left the house for legos and milk.
