Miscellany

{anything goes}

Car wash

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To all you single boys out there … a helpful hint: 

If you happen to catch a glimpse of a woman – out minding her own business, washing her car – and you feel compelled to stop and strike up a conversation, do not – I repeat –  DO NOT say anything to the effect of “wanna wash mine next?”  I know it will be tempting , but here’s the thing:  you may think you’re being clever, but she’s heard it before – more than likely in the last twenty minutes.  If you really want to impress her, say something like “I’ve got some bad-ass car-washing skills, interested in seeing them in action?”  Girls like skills.  And if you’re overly concerned that she might actually take you up on the offer, just keep on a goin’ … trust me … it’s for the best …

 

Random thoughts

Each year the girls of the fam are invited over to party all weekend; it’s our Mother’s Day Extravaganza.  It typically begins with dinner on Friday evening and ends with brunch on Sunday morning.   This year my two aunts, my cousin, and his family joined in the festivities.  Here are a few random thoughts from our time together …

Photo ops.  If there’s one thing a member of our family learns at a young age, it’s how to get accustomed to any number of cameras in your face at any given time.  Flashes going off every which way is just par for the course.  The Paparazzi’s got nothin’ on us.  Action shots, portraits, nut-ball poses, we’ve got ’em all.  Sometimes that’s all we’ve got.  So, what’d you do over the weekend?  We partook in miscellaneous photo ops – and you?  The upside: We can revisit our family … we can relive the laughter … anytime we wish.  It’s enough to make the momentary blindness worth it. 

Sweet lovin’s.  My cousin’s little girl is one and a half.  And cuter than ever.  Seriously.  She’s so cute you can’t even stand it.  She’s also a little lady on the go.  Still, she managed to take time out of her busy roadmap-to-discovery to give me some sweet lovin’s.  When she walked up to me and held out her hands to be picked up; and then, once up, put her head on my chest, I melted.  Just like butta.  Suddenly I understood how parents might be tempted to spoil their children absolutely rotten.  Because if she could talk in complete sentences – and happened to ask for a car at that precise moment – I would have said, “here, take mine.”   Pretty sure. 

Heart of thankfulness.  You know, life has a funny way of not-at-all turning out as you had planned.  Yet is still manages to shine.  Much like the song suggests, God likes to bless the broken road.   As I sat there yesterday morning, looking at the faces before me, I realized how each mother at that table has had her share of sorrow and disappointment.  But they’ve kept going; they’ve also kept each other.  And I realized my heart was full to overflowing with thankfulness.  I was thankful to have a mom – and be surrounded by moms – who were stronger than they’ll ever realize.  They taught me that it’s okay to cry – as long as the tears turn to laughter evetually.  They taught me how to create and cherish memories.  They taught me that they’ve got my back – and that I need to carry on the tradition.  They taught me that yes, life may not be perfect – but it can be beautiful all the same.

Love your neighbor?!

There’s a slight possibility the neighbors across the way moved in for the sole purpose of testing my patience.  Thankfully, their respective annoyances are solo; they do not typically join in chorus.  Except for last night.  Last night, when I was frantically trying to finish editing; last night, when I desperately needed peace and quiet, they all joined in… 

Neighbor #2:  I refer to him as neighbor #2 since he abides in the in the middle house.  I’m not really sure what the story is, but someone in that household rides a motorcycle, in circles, in the backyard.  Round-and-around-and-around for hours at a time.  There really isn’t a strong enough word for just how annoying this is; the only reason I have not personally gone over there and hurt the individual is because I keep telling myself he must be autistic or something.  Autistic and the regular looping motion is the ONLY thing that can calm his nerves.   I mean really.  What other explanation could there possibly be?  It certainly couldn’t be to get on my last and final nerve.  Right?!  So off he went last night – Va-a-ROO-oom; va-a-ROO-oom; va-a-ROO-oom …

Neighbor #1:  The neighbor to the left of #2 – herein referred to as Neighbor #1 – has a hound dog.  Now, Neighbor #1 has apparently left for an excursion of one sort or another, which means his poor pups is even more distraught than usual.  And, as hound dogs do, he likes to share his misery.  Much like he did last night.  After approximately five rounds of the motorcycle, he started in – A-ru.  A-ru.  A-ru-ru-u-u; A-ru.  A-ru.  A-ru-u-u-u; A-ru.  A-ru.  A-ru-u-u-u …

Neighbor #3:  Neighbor #3 is the only one I have ever actually met.  Our conversation didn’t last long; apparently he couldn’t hear a thing I said unless I yelled it.  And I’ll tell you why:  he likes to share his music with anyone within a five mile radius.  Or, maybe he’s just trying to drown out Neighbors 1 & 2.  There’s no way of knowing.  What I do know, however, is that he pumped up the volume not long after the hound started belting his tune – Bada-dada-da-da; Bada-dada-da-da; Bada-dada-da-da…

Now if I thought one was bad, all three – together – is positively dreadful.    Bada-dada-da-da – A-ru.  A-ru. –  Bada-dada-da-da – va-a-ROO – Bada-dada-da-da -va-ru-u-u … After about an hour I began to mull my options – all of which probably would have landed me in jail.  And let’s be serious – I don’t have the time for that!  So I did the only thing left to do; I flung my editing to the ground, curled up in a ball, and put a pillow over my head. 

We can only hope all’s quiet on the home-front tonight. 

 

NARSAD

I remember traveling to the “big city” as a kid and laughing at the “crazy” people on the streets.   They wore strange clothing.  They mumbled to themselves.  They even broke forth in loud, unintelligable tirades, suddenly, without warning.  They were funny. 

And then mental illness touched my own life.

Suddenly I knew the people others would call crazy.  They were my friends; they were family.  I knew them before their brain short-circuited.  I knew their mental illness was not who they were.  They were fun, witty, intelligent, giving – immensely gifted.  They didn’t ask to be prisoners of their own minds.  At times, they even cried out for help, but we could never truly understand; we couldn’t make it better.  We could do little more than watch, helpless – hoping for a day when there would be more than a temporary fix. 

Suddenly, “crazy” was no longer something that made me laugh, it broke my heart.      

NARSAD believes in a world without mental illness – and they strive each and every day to make it a reality.  NARSAD invests in the best and brightest scientific minds throughout the world to unravel the complexities of schizophrenia, depression, anxiety and many other psychiatric diseases. Then, [they] continue to support the researchers as they use their findings to develop next-generation diagnostics and treatments for these conditions. With enough effort, NARSAD expects scientists someday to discover preventions and cures for these devastating illnesses.

But they can only continue this quest with our help.  Won’t you consider giving today?  Give in support of loved ones who must live with mental illness; give in thankfulness for those you love, whose minds are whole.   

Interested in this charity?

NARSAD received four-stars on Charity Navigator.  Click here to review the full report.  Or visit NARSAD‘s website directly – learn more about mental disorders and how you can be a part of building a brighter future for us all …

Celebrate good times…

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Well, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind since I last popped in; but there were celebrations to be had – so it wasn’t all bad …

May day.  I’m of the belief that one should never outgrow May day.  As a matter of fact, in a perfect world, I think our pots, planters, and gardens would be full of flowers from friends.  But, alas, this concept does not seem to be catching on.  All the same, I usually load up my car with annuals and  perennials – cut flowers for my grama and her friends – and hit the road.  Due to my writing project and impending company, I had to scale back this year.  And it went downhill from there.  Seriously.  I missed streets and had to turn around multiple times; notes were falling off the flowers; flowers were tipping, spilling potting soil all over my car.  I was grouchy.  On May day.  Suddenly, I began to question why it was I do what I do.  Who’s even going to miss it?  Just when I was about to call it a tradition, I received a call from one of my grama’s friends.  At ninety-one years of age, she had never received a May basket – the happiness echoed in her voice.  There it was; my reason… and the reason I will continue on next year… 

Birthdays.  My aunt was visiting this past weekend.  Her birthday was yesterday and we pretty much partied all weekend.  We went to a movie and ate out; we chatted and laughed until we cried.  We had a lot of fun.  Now I’ve known a lot of people who continually celebrate “21” – people who view birthdays as “just another day.”  But last night, as we toasted another year, I was overcome with gratitude for a mum who made birthdays special.  Each and every one was special – special meals and desserts; candles, confetti, streamers; presents selected with care and wrapped in glittery paper.  But the greatest gift of all?  Happiness.  And what better way to begin a new year?