Share Bliss

I haven't watched a full news cast since (whisper) "The Cancer." I had been seriously contemplated relocating myself from the entire miserable news structure prior to the whole incident with my girly bits, then the day I was diagnosed that sealed it. I wasn't spending another minute on something that didn't increase my happy.

It is selfish. I know that. Up until then I had always viewed watching the news as a civic payment for being part of the global community. But it cost me. Way, way too much. I would sometimes end up crying by the end of a broadcast, seeing the horrors of the world on that particular day. Feeling so connected to everything then translates into feeling responsible, and when you are limited, helplessness starts to creep.

I'm looking to flip that script. There is good news out there, every day. Happy news. It just doesn't get the headline coverage it deserves. There are never the statistics of how many people didn't die of lung cancer last year at the top of the hour, or how many people made it home alive during rush hour traffic without incident. How many kids had wonderful days today, without being bullied? Just the other day every single person I smiled at, for the entire day, smiled in return. Two young men held the door open for my Mother, one as she entered the bank and one as she left. My handyman gave me two ears of corn, just because. People grew a garden, fathers played with their kids, horses ran in the field, crickets chirped, the stars shone and music rang out.

Politicians say racist and bigoted words in front of cameras, bombs fall, people die of horrific diseases in lonely ways, and children starve. This will more than unfortunately never stop. It will be reported. I'm not choosing the ignorance is bliss side, I'm choosing bliss. Share bliss. We have as much of a responsibility to share the beauty of being alive as the top story as any other.

Power Up

Much like Zeus with Athena, I woke up this morning with a fully formed blog post sprung right from my head.  I'm not claiming to be a god, or this post a goddess, but it's creation does rank with the mythical.  Worship as you see fit.

I've never been a good video game player.  In fact, I've never made it past the first level on the original Mario Brothers.  Todd would soar through that blasted thing and I would sit there, so frustrated, stuck at level one.  I'd keep trying.  For a good long while.  Then when I couldn't feel my thumbs, I'd go to my usual position of Couch Cheerleader.  I'd do the same with that Crash Bandikoot (sp) thing.  Ooooohing and aaaaaahing, being amazed and exasperated in tandem.  I do it now, with his much more sophisticated games.  I'm still really a twelve year old in many ways.

It's easy to get disgusted when you/we watch people excel, comparing those imaginary societal high scores with what feels like your last life on the first screen.  What's not easy is tiring your thumbs out giving everyone thumbs up just for playing the game. 

Morning Song

Early April of 1986, just before I turned 15 I spent a couple of nights out in the fields next to our house in Idaho, in my Dad's Toyota 4-Runner, clutching binoculars and hoping I'd get to see Halley's Comet.  I thought it was providence that the comet was coming so close to when I was born.  With Mark Twain dying on my Birthday, the final bookend to his story that began with the comet coming on the day of his birth meant it was going to happen. This was a part of my story.

I never saw the comet.  I looked and looked.  I waited and waited.  I had the coordinates, I had the equipment.  It just never happened.  I took this as a serious defeat.  It still saddens me to think of this young girl staring into the heavens for hours on end, alone, knowing that she will never live to see her wish.

I may never see Halley's Comet, even if I live to 2061 and at 90 years of age my eyes are working well enough to see this marvel, what I know NOW is I don't want to miss all the wonders happening right next to me.  I don't need binoculars for that.

Spinster in the Hood

Went over to my cousin's house to play games and hang out today.  Her good and longtime friend Nadine was there with two of her kids as well.  We giggled, talked, ate, got competitive and corralled kids.   Their plan for dinner was a meat based dish so I took a quick trip to get a couple of burritos.  Nadine rode shotgun.

As I made my order (bean burritos, with red sauce, no cheese, add onions and lettuce) Nadine looks at me like I'm from Mars.

Nadine -"So, you don't eat cheese."
Me -"No."
N. - "Or eggs."
Me - "No."
N. - "Not even yogurt?"
Me - "I eat almond milk yogurt."
N. - "They make that?"

We both start to giggle and I tell her how the last guy to hit on me was a guy 20 years younger, undoubtedly a meat eater and at least five inches shorter.  We didn't even get to the health issues.  I'm just left as the Jolly Green Vegan Giant.

Me - "What do I have in common with a guy like that?"
N. - "What do you have in common with any guy?"

Nadine just summed up my spinsterhood in one sentence.

Smiling, it's my Favorite?

I think I need to be chaperoned at the grocery store.  Last time I was hit on while picking out bananas, this time all I wanted was some vanilla almond milk yogurt.  The local Harmons is the only store that sells this brand, so it sells out quickly.  So, as I stand in front of the cleared out spot trying to decide if I'll condescend to pick up the inferior strawberry, a worker man pounces on the weak prey.  In an attempt to get a case of this precious yogurt (his suggestion to prevent missing out on future trips) I now know his life story.

He juiced for two months, lost 18 pounds, his son hates vegetables, his daughter lives with him but his son doesn't, he loves kale and smoothies and there is so much more.  I mostly just stood there nodding.  Smiling. 

I knew I had to give him my number for the case of yogurt and all I could think was this is getting ridiculous.  Then he asked if I knew about these special juices and I told him it was okay, I didn't want to take him away from his work but he insisted.  He walked me to the front of the store and showed me each juice. 

I'm not looking people in the eye anymore.  Or smiling.

Driver's Side

So today started out pretty craptastic.  I'm walking to my car, on my way to pick up my Mom for our trip to Huntsman for my 6 month check-up to make sure all that mean 'ol cancer is still gone, when what do I see but someone had backed into my car and not done a damned thing about it.  I just stood there, starring.  Disbelieving.  Not really disbelieving, because people suck, but stymied nonetheless.

I was stressed to start anyway.  Last time they found "something."  Would there be another thing, and will the thing really be a thing... and so on and so on.  Now I have a stupid frakking hit and run bastard neighbor to fret over.  That said, My Mom deserves many medals.  Many. 

We make it to Huntsman, get in quickly, pants off, on the table exam over, things look good.  We did have to wait an hour for prescriptions that never happened, but we were compensated with piles of snacks.  The drive home was much better, my cheesy 80's Glenn Medeiros full volume altered my mood greatly.  My Mom giggling the whole time as I sang every word.

Back at my parents' house, my Dad helps clean up the bumper and tries to wax out some of the scratches.  But it is scratched down to the primer.  A paint job is necessary and my deductible is $500 since it is a collision.  The amazingly friendly agent from the 800 # even called back to see if it could possibly be vandalism, but it is clearly a car that hit me.  Just vandals driving. 

Here's what's good out of all this: My doctor didn't see any thing to worry about right off and we just have to wait for the test results, no one was in the car and no one was injured, the car is drivable, Glenn Medeiros is available on CD,  My Mom's giggle, snacks, My Dad's amazing stocked garage, friendly insurance agents that laugh when you laugh and console you when you cry after a long long day, and your ex neighbor Misty calling to ask to go lunch on Friday.

I'm driving.