Three cheers for caffeine! That’s it. That’s “C”. Did I say more?
This has been quite a day. Actually, quite a couple of days. Remember my sad story about my Ford Taurus? Well, yesterday, the “junk car people” came and picked it up. I was sad. No, really, I was sad. That car had served me well for eighteen years. Not once it ever stall on me. Not once was I stuck somewhere along the road. So-o-o-o-while looking for a new car, I’m driving my mother’s. It only has 50,000 miles but it’s twelve years old and has obviously not been driven much.
I thought I heard some unusual sounds yesterday but my hubby took it out for a spin and it was fine. I got up early this morning to have some blood work done (I’ll tell you about that in a minute), and then ran some errands. Again, the car seemed to be acting funny. As I turning into a parking spot, it stalled twice. I didn’t panic and went about my business. On my way home, I felt I should stay off the main roads just in case. As I’m driving, it completely stalls so I steer to the side of the road. At this point, I’m a few blocks from my mother’s. I knew I could walk the rest of the way if I had to. I sat there a few minutes then tried it again. It started and I was able to get to her house, where I called a friend to come pick me up and take me home. I dropped the car off at our trusted garage and am waiting for the call. Back to this morning…………..
After fasting for fourteen hours, I got up early and was at the lab by 8:00. They drew my blood and then proceeded to tell me the insurance wouldn’t pay for all the tests. Now this has never happened and we’ve had the same insurance for a few years now. So I spent the rest of the day talking to the insurance company, the doctor’s office and the lab and have them all blame each other. Finally did get that figured out. In the middle of all this, I decided to make little pumpkin cakes. I had just read yesterday about all the ways to “doctor” a cake mix to make it test more like a bakery cake. Well, I must have done something wrong because they burnt a little on the bottom and were quite dry. There again, my stove is about as old as my car!
Tomorrow has got to go better, right?
All kidding aside, I’ll take days like this any day compared to what so many people deal with every day.
I’m posting this tongue-in-cheek. This morning I hobbled to the bathroom because my left foot is in a “soft” cast as I’m trying to avoid major, major, nine–recovery- surgery. I lifted my left “braced” arm due to a pulled tendon, to open a door to my medicine cabinet.
Here’s the funny, ha, ha part. The door came off the hinge and the next thing I knew it hit me right above my left eye. Blood is dripping down my cheek and I couldn’t help but laugh. How could I not? I look like the “walking wounded”.
They say there are no accident’s but I can’t think of what I could have done to cause that door to attack me. Hmm. come to think of it, I DO hate my medicine cabinet. But still………
So that’s my funny, ha, ha, story. You just have to have a sense of humor about some things. 🙂
good choices and clean underwear
I have some great advice today for everyone. Short post alert! Short post alert! This blog is going to contain a lot of information over time about depression and my thoughts about life in general. But every once in awhile you come across a piece of advice that just says it all. Sometimes you need a shot in the arm, something that makes you laugh and yet sit up and take notice. Sometimes the best philosophy is the simplest. Sometimes there’s a volume of truth in the fewest amount of words. Now that I’ve set you up for this little gem, let me ask you a question. Is there more to this statement than you might think?
Here it is:
Make good choices and wear clean underwear!
Some of us are just born old. Asking us when we knew we had grown up is like asking us to solve a quantum physics problem in our head. We simply have no frame of reference; we’ve always felt grow-up. As children we felt the weight of the world on our tiny shoulders even though they weren’t ready to carry such a load. Atlas may have shrugged it off but we couldn’t. Circumstances of our childhood conspired together in such a way as to guarantee we would skip over some important stages. The sense of wonder, freedom and innocence eluded us. Fun became a four-letter word.
We see smiling pictures of ourselves in our parent’s photo albums and don’t recognize ourselves because of those smiles. We do remember some good times, like catching fireflies on a summer’s evening and jailing them in a glass prison. We remember making tents out of blankets and playing in them with our dolls. We remember rolling lopsided balls of snow into distorted snowmen. We can even remember hugs and kisses and warm moments of intimacy. But we also remember fearing that those cherished moments would slip away too soon. And they often did. We knew those singular moments weren’t our real life; they were just cruel snippets of what could be, what should be.
There is an old southern saying that states, “If you don’t crawl before you walk, you will crawl before you die.” I think it’s supposed to mean that we are meant to experience certain phases in our life at appropriate times and if we don’t, we will experience them inappropriately at some other time along the way. Becoming an adult too soon is one of those “not crawling before we walk” kind of experiences. Doctors tell us not to push our children to stand up too soon because their leg muscles haven’t developed properly and it could cause injury. The same is true for our emotions.
We were forced to experience adulthood way ahead of schedule. Our under developed emotional muscles were simply not ready to take on such mature themes. But we became very adept at carrying our burdens because we were survivors. When life gets overwhelming now, we put our big girl panties on and tell ourselves to “grow up for crying out loud”. The truth is we do a pretty good job; we have been trained well.
I finally became a grownup when I realized I could have fun, even pursue it intentionally. I now enjoy life without feeling guilty. I no longer feel I’ve ignored the suffering in the world just because I laugh. Maybe laughter is what helps up grow compassion. It gets our minds off ourselves for awhile and consequently we can think of others. I am more compassionate now, give more financially now and extend myself more now because I’m a healthier person over all.
How about you? Are you grown-up enough to laugh and have fun?