Ever since Monday night, I’ve been thinking. And ever since I jotted down my thoughts about Rose, I’ve been trying harder to be one. In the wake of memorial services and bad-news emails, perspective is clearer and action is more easily determined. The lines between important and unimportant are clearly drawn.

The trick is to keep going. Next week. April. July. Where will I be in July?

This morning I stayed home with Typhoid Mary–again–because THIS TIME she has strep. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Yeah. I know. Ridiculous. There are two schools of thought on contagion with something like this. Quarantine the poo out of them and clean things within an inch of their last layer of finish. OR…Make out with the germy one and expose yourself and get it over with. I know the first method SEEMS so much better and cleaner and righter. But where’s the control in that? I LOSE control. If I smooch the germs, I am taking back control. I am saying, DO YOUR WORST because we are ready! I am saying that YES, we may get sick also, but we chose this. We didn’t want to stay well. We are doing it on our own terms.

That’s stupid. Nobody does that, but I do like to think about it. It’s sort of a Walter Mitty moment for me and I like it.

Typhoid Mary is on meds and acting completely fine now. Jury’s still out on the rest of the inner circle.

So, back to thinking.

Since I’ve been practicing epiphanies since Tuesday, I’ve been also listening to the arguments in my head against making changes. We all have moments where we are standing at the intersection of Self Improvement and I Wash Myself with a Rag on a Stick. In those moments, there are factors that cause you to go down a new path or stay stuck on the old one. For me, sometimes my remaining stuck is based entirely on the lies I hear in my head and then choose to believe. Here are a few of them:

• This won’t matter. This DOESN’T matter. Oh, yes it will and yes it does. Absolutely it matters. Whether it’s the banana or the cheesecake or the bible reading or the Price is Right or the counting to 10 before putting the child up for sale on Craigslist…it matters. Five minutes matters. Small choices matter. A day is made up of hundreds of small, “this won’t matter” choices. Seven of those days and you’ve got a week. It matters. Make it matter. If you mess up, get up and try again. But try NOW. Because now matters.
• I should start this tomorrow. I’ve already wrecked today, so I’ll start tomorrow. No. This doesn’t work. It CERTAINLY doesn’t work with dieting. It doesn’t work with much else either. Do it now. Putting off a good decision just creates a few more hours of bad ones. I’m creating a hill that’s almost too high to summit. If you are having the thoughts, then start immediately. Procrastinating is risky at best and crippling at worst.
• I don’t have an original thought in my head. Actually, this one is mostly true. But that’s okay.
• Unoriginal thoughts are worthless. Not that many people actually DO have original thoughts. We are all sharing ideas and trying to keep from making the hole in the ozone layer any bigger than it already is. Share those unoriginal thoughts. It’s all good.
• This is permanent. The way it is now is permanent. No. You can change. IT can change. This too shall pass.
• I will someday arrive. I keep this one going in the biggest way. I really think I still believe that I am someday going to pull it ALL together in such a spectacular way that I will be able to recognize that I’ve arrived and sit back and enjoy a utopian peace. It’s a fluid journey. I will keep moving and never arrive. I will never be able to get ahead of the obstacles or predict them in such a way as to totally dodge them.
• I’ll be more useful later. I’m not useful enough in this phase of life. Wait until the babies are all bigger. Gone away. Washing their own armpits. Whatever. Wait. Wait until you are more useful. This is a lie. Don’t wait. You are useful now. I don’t know how. I just know you are. And I am. And I’m figuring out how best to figure that out. If we all look at the Roses in our life and step up our game just a little, we’ll see big changes a year from now.
• It’s too late to do anything about that. There are times when it really IS too late. As in, I can’t send Rose a note and tell her she’s largely responsible for my recent epiphany. However, most of the time, this isn’t the case. So what if I waited 10 months to introduce myself to the older couple sitting one pew in front of me in church. This is a little embarrassing, but swallow the awkward, woman, and just say something (I’m giving up on you). It’s not too late. Befriend someone. Send a note. Let go of something terrible. Make a change. It’s not too late. And if it IS too late on some front, we can still take a step in the right direction. It’s up to us.
• Past failures equal future failures. Where fitness is concerned, this one gets me. I’ve been trying to drop 25 pounds of Typhoid Mary and her sister (who’s only like a day older than her…not really) weight for 6 years now. I haven’t accomplished this because it’s hard and I’m tired and I like donuts and many, many other artificially beautiful tasting things. I’m tempted to give up and think that since it hasn’t happened, it won’t. Ever. This is a lie. Again, it’s all in the hundreds of small decisions in my day. I am not destined to fail.
• I’m good with 5 hours of sleep. Really, I’m not. What happens the next day can vary from drunken knock-knock jokes to grumpy snippiness or bad decisions or snoring in the carline. Five hours of sleep isn’t enough. And since I’m telling myself this lie right this moment, I’m signing off to get a solid 5 1/2. Awesome.

 

 

Well, I couldn’t help myself.
I just had to go to the Pets section of the Craigslist community. Usually I have to search through more ads to get to anything that furrows my brow. Today was easy. The first three I looked up were kinda fun. Not life-changing fun. Don’t require that of me now. Just kinda fun.

The first little nugget was apparently written by the nugget himself, a small dog who calls himself Clyde and seems to trust his mother implicitly and have a decent self esteem. He isn’t much on grammar, though. They never are.

my name is Clyde and I am the last one out of a litter of 7. I have  eyes to die for when you look at me. I love to be head and will sleep in your bed most of the night. I am mostly potty trained. I have been with other dogs and cats, but will also take time to sit in your lap. I have been to the vet 3 times and the humans got my shots and had me dewormed. I will be about 5lbs when I grow up. my mom says it is time for me to go to a new home and to leave her side. she said even though she will miss me its time for me to find humans of my own to take care of me. so if you would like to be my new human plz email and find out what you will have to do to have me in your home.

First of all, Clyde, you ALWAYS start a sentence with a capital letter. Always. Doesn’t matter what your breed is or who your daddy is. If you don’t start your sentences with a capital letter, you are attracting the wrong kinds of humans. What does “I love to be head” mean? Head of what? The human’s household? Other dogs? MOSTLY POTTY TRAINED. Oh, Clyde. I have children. I KNOW what that means. That means you are going to pee and poop on EVERY.SQUARE.INCH of my house. Every blanket. Every towel. Every piece of furniture. Either you ARE or you ARE NOT potty trained. Mostly means that people are pretending until the moment they walk into the grisliest scene ever. Been there with a non-furry 2 year old. Still taking meds to forget that one.

So I scrolled down and found the human posting of Clyde’s listing.

he has just the eyes to die for. you will want to take him home when you look at his eyes. (I’m sorry, but I’m just finding this whole eye thing to be a bit creepy. They talk about it a little too much for my comfort level.) he loves to be held and loved on. he is looking for a new home. somewhere he could have a lap to sleep in. he will be about 5 lbs. I am asking a rehomeing fee but he comes with his first shots and 3 vet visits.

Now I know where Clyde got his grammatical skillz from. The “lap to sleep in” bit threw me off. Does that mean I get to sleep sitting up in a chair all night, so that Clyde has a lap? And can we talk about “rehoming” fees? Really, people. Just tell me you’re selling me your dog. Sell him to me and charge me for him. Don’t call it a “rehoming” fee. Did you have to put handicap ramps in your home? Are you having to repaint and recarpet because of all the “mostly potty trained” accidents that were happening?  Indeed.

My final post just reinforced the ugliness of the guinea pig. Horrifying creatures, really.

Cute Male Guinea Pig Looking for Loving Home

I have a baby guinea pig looking for a new home. he is a pretty boy in asking 10 for him.

He is a pretty boy in asking for $10 for him. Um. Pretty boy? Pretty boy is Ricky Nelson. This guy will show up in my dreams tonight. Carrying a splintered club and wearing a backwards ball cap.

There was also a bearded dragon for sale….I mean for REHOMING FEE of $175. He came with everything but crickets, because he had run out that morning. If I’m going to rehome your dragon for $175, I’m for doodle sure going to get me some free crickets. Umm…

On second thought, I’ve decided to call all of these people and offer them some red-pen edits for a small re-grammaring fee. They’ll thank me later after they’ve found their human.

It’s been a strange few weeks. I’ve been in a personal fog that related to organizational things, visitors, sickness, and the fallout of a post contagious house. Life has been leading me around by the nose. I’ve just been reacting.

That’s exactly the problem.
This has always been my problem.
In quiet moments, I have bursts of inspiration. Grandiose ideas of what I can do to serve my neighbor and teach my children well.
Then someone spews something that I have to clean up. Or the school calls with a volunteer request. Or the Today Show comes on. And stays on. For 3 hours.

There’s not a lot that I can do about the spewing part. But most of it, I do have SOME control over. But I’m not controlling it. It’s controlling me.

So at the end of the day, nothing looks any different than it did the day before. At the end of the month, those ideas that were chiseled and colorful and swelling in my mind are now watered down by time and doubt and chores that I won’t remember doing tomorrow. I begin to wonder if the notion ever had any merit in the first place.

And then I forget I ever even thought it.

Until someone dies.
In that moment, it all comes flooding back. In one instant and in the instants to follow, I remember every wish, every thought, every unchecked item on past to-do lists, every regret with total clarity. Total clarity.

I see it clearly. I resolve again to do life differently. I plan. I try. Someone spews. Someone calls. I get tired. I forget.

Blech.

On Sunday, an older lady who was special to my church family, and to me, died peacefully at home. Then, on Monday, another woman, also getting up there in years, took food to the grieving family. This second woman was named Rose.

I don’t know what time Rose got out of bed on Monday morning and I don’t know what she did first thing. What I do know is that at some point that morning, she took food over to the grieving family without being asked to do so. No meal list was posted. No requests had been made. She just went, because that’s who she was and what she did. After that, she took food to two other families and dropped off desserts for our college students. And after all of that, I am imagining that she went home. I don’t actually know where she was when it happened, but that afternoon, Rose had a sudden heart attack and died. On her last day on earth, she was providing for others. That’s a pretty good way to go out.

I’m not sad for Rose or for Mrs. Pickup, because they have finished their race and earned their reward. I’m mostly sad for me. I’m sad because I’m afraid I’m not learning the lessons quickly enough or permanently enough. I can’t just keep rethinking the same thoughts or relearning the same lessons. I’ve got to build on this. I wish I could tell Rose how much it meant to me that she bought my oldest boy a remote control car on his first birthday. Never mind that he broke it in less than a week. She paid attention to him. She paid attention to everyone. I know I said thank you for that gift. But did I really tell her the impact?

I regret that. It doesn’t matter to her now and she doesn’t need anything from me now. But there are others who do. Other words unspoken, other letters unsent, other intentions sitting under a heavy pile of have-tos.

This sequence of events really caused me to think. Why can’t I seem to stay in the driver’s seat? Why do I have intentions that I don’t fulfill? Well, the why part isn’t that difficult. Life moves at a ludicrous pace and most of us move with it with our faces bent toward our smart phones. I know WHY I haven’t mastered it yet. What I need to know is HOW to break the pattern and become a Rose. Or half a Rose. Even a petal would work most days.

(1) I need to stand and observe my day before it even begins. What’s coming today? What HAS to be done? What did I already commit to? I need to try to look at the whole thing from the start and have a firm grasp of the “knowns.”

(2) Once I’ve got a grip on that, I need to ask myself what I can do to provide service or joy today. Who will I see on my day’s path? Who needs to hear from me? What kind of free time do I have and what needs to fill that? If I’m asked to do something, what will I say? If I say yes, will important things be neglected? If I say no, what better thing will I do with my time?

(3) What obstacles are preventing my progress? I need to REALLY KNOW the answer to this one. If committing to unimportant things is causing important ones to stay undone, I need to change this. If a bad habit is standing in my way, I need to avoid that. I need to defuse the bombs before they have a chance to go off. I did this rather successfully last year when the hub was out of town for a month. I realized during the first two week stint that I had accomplished NOTHING. And after looking hard at why that was, I realized I was lonely, was turning on the TV for “friends” and noise and then getting sucked in to whatever came on. So, the second 2-week-stint, I made a rule that I could not watch any TV between 8 a.m and 8 p.m. Instead, I turned on Pandora for music and hammered away on my task list.

This is really how I need to live my life. I can’t just wait for the empty snippets of time to appear and hope to fill them with big important service projects that have been on my mind. I have to carve out the time and make sure first things really do come first. Maybe today I just need to do something small. Something small is still something. A lot of something smalls makes a pretty big life.

It’s so totally NOT brain surgery. But for some reason–for me– it is hard.

So for today, I’m going to try to be a petal. And if I keep my focus and string together enough moments of trying, then maybe someday I’ll be a Rose.

Craigslist Strikes Again
So you want to hear a little sliver of irony? I use and love Craigslist like it alone is keeping me alive. And yet, there is some sort of disconnect keeping me from emailing a person and inquiring about what I want to buy. I have to call the Informinator and get her to email for me with my information.
Oh the irony.
Pretty much can’t be fixed. I’ve tried.
So in the following ad, even if I wanted to contact the person, I couldn’t. I found it funny, though.

Nintendo Ds Lite – $40
I have a red an black Nintendo Ds lite I would like to sell it is in great condition an comes with the charger if interested dont be afraid to txt or call
• it’s ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
post id: 4276468076
posted: 3 days ago
email to friend
♥ best of
I’m not afraid to call or text. This person just didn’t provide a number. Lots of comfort and love…no number. ALso no grammar. Shame on you. Or is it sham on you? See below.

————–
twin beds like new used in guess room
comforters,sheet,shame,and skirt go with it
————-
Oh, I loves me a good guess room. I’ve done some of my best guessing in guess rooms. But I decided not to call on this one because I didn’t want the shame that went with it.
I do not make these up. Promise.

OK. So I’m always shopping on Craigslist for something. That’s a given. I love to hunt for stuff and I love a good bargain. Recently I’ve been hunting a new camera body, because mine is just too tired to keep singing anymore.

I have read this entire post twice and still have no idea how this post came up from the camera search I was doing. But somehow, while searching for a very specific Canon in my fair city, this ad from Daytona Beach came up. Listen, maybe you don’t care squat about Craigslist, but you gotta read this ad. Read it. Really.

http://daytona.craigslist.org/msg/4122329530.html

Of all the things they are selling, the MARACAS are the heading for the ad. “Very Nice, BRAND NEW set of Maracas.” That’s good, because I do not like my maracas to be used. That’s just wrong.

Special notation that they are also selling a DOGLOO for $25, listed right next to the $50 mulch. And there’s a handmade vintage peacock wall art.

In all this, the thing that made the headline was the maracas.

And I was searching for a camera.

Huh.

In case you are wondering, this is how Florida does pumpkins. And you may be thinking that we carved these the first week of October, giving them a full 3 or 4 weeks to rot. This, friends, is not the case.

We carved these pumpkins on October 24. This is 8 days in Florida.

No wonder I can’t lose weight. Internally, I’m moldy and rotten. No one can survive in these conditions.

It’s terrible.

Really, I’m joking. Besides the rotting vegetation that I’m going to have to sandblast from my porch, we are happy. It is November 2 and while my heart tightens a little every time I think about how fast the days are passing me by, I’m also working on the best Christmas mix ever and embracing the days ahead.

Happy Harvest, wherever you are.