Even Butterflies Need A Rest…

I have two speeds nothing or full speed. Part of this is due to my personality type and I am a Gemini. The double minded bickering twins.

One wants to sleep and the other has things to do and places to go. Usually in my case the one who wants to go wins.

For example, as I write this post, I am reclining in the passengers seat of my friends car while she is at a doctors appointment.

I just came off working my third straight 12 night shift job. The plan was that I would sleep while she was at her appointment.

I rolled the windows down put her can of wet ones behind my neck to support my head and turned on my music. I was almost asleep when I heard a car door close beside me.

I opened my eyes ever so slightly to see an older woman staring at me. Nonchalantly, I look at her and say Hey! A typical Southern greeting. She replied hey back.

Now, I am sure that she was taken aback at my tie dyed socks hanging out the window. She probably thought she would look in the window and see some mouthy teen attached to those socks not a woman of 50.

Being soundly awake at this point, I got up and went inside to use the powder room. I then took a stroll around the building and took some photos. The was a very nice wooded section behind the office.

I will now try to nap again, everyone and everything needs rest. Now it is time for mine, unless I have to say Hey to someone else.

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A Day Of Exercise (in many forms)

Today I worked out in my flower bed.

My plan was on the nice warmer winter days, I would go out and work on it but with my schedule those days didn’t exist (for me)  during the winter months.

This morning when I came home from work I was down. I was tired. I looked at the rock flower bed my grandfather had built over fifty years ago. It was in sad shape. Not the bed itself. It is as sturdy as it has ever been. It was suffering from neglect. Having set there from the autumn season.

 I went inside to sleep which happened quickly. I don’t even remember getting into bed. I slept for a few hours and when I woke up I was wide awake and my mind was whirling.

I decided to go out and see if it was warm enough to begin working through the vines and thorns to reclaim the flower bed and allow the daffodils and tulips that reside there to flourish.

I assessed the situation. I walked around the oblong rock flower bed, I chose my point of attack. I walked back to my carport and gathered the spade, shovel, rake, broom and clippers.

I was ready to do battle. There was walking, tugging, straining, climbing up into the flower bed, bending over to clear out debris, working with the shovel using muscles I don’t use everyday in that manner.  This was the physical exercise.

When stepping in between the fragile new growth, I had to be careful not to damage what I was trying to salvage.

When I used the spade and could not get the roots of the intruding vines and thorns, I had to use the shovel having to use care once again to not to damage the desired plants while evicting the intruders. This was the mental exercise.

Once the roots were removed to prevent the squatters from returning, I would shake the dirt from the roots and for the first time in my life, I realized how I enjoyed the smell of the fresh dirt. There was something alluring about the smell.

It’s not like I haven’t played in the dirt before. I have many times in that same flower bed. It is just this time I feel like I was more present.

It was so strong that when I saw my person later in the day, I made mention of it; how amazing the smell was to me.

As I worked with my hands, I thought what those weeds and thorns represented in my own life and how removing said interlopers makes room for the good to grow.

I thought about my grandmother. How she would walk up to the flower bed and work as much as she could, which was not long because she had spurs on her spine. I can work for hours and she could only work for minutes but there is a shared love of the flowers that grow there.

I looked at the metal pipe in the middle of the flower bed. My sister, cousins and I used to pretend it was a periscope. I smiled at the memories flooding my soul. This was the soul exercise.

A need to clean out a flowerbed became a body, mind, spirit connection and what started out as a chore turned into a blessing.

A Dinosaurs View of Dating Today…

I am one of those people who can talk to people of all ages. I have friends in their 20s and on up.

Tonight one of them called me and wanted to know if wanted to have dinner with him. I told him I had already eaten and promised him a rain check. His dad is a really good friend of mine. He has recently moved back from where his parents moved to and he is still not reacclimated to small town life.

I have a friend who is 22. She makes me think of myself a great deal. She is funny, smart, introverted, she had just not had the best luck with guys. She has been attracted to a certain type of guy and they have treated her like crap.

Not too long ago, she told me she was going to give herself 6 months before she dated anyone.

Now being a teen in the 1980s meeting people and dating was somewhat different.

This was when phones still had a cord and you would lay in the floor with your feet propped up on the wall and they could hear you giggle or shyly respond to a compliment.  They had to actually ask you out on a date. At my house, your parents met them before you left with them. You had to be careful because the whole family could hear what you were saying and believe me, my folks were listening.

Back in a time before texting and smart phones. We didn’t have messenger or tinder where you swipe one way of you are interested or the other way if you’re not. The only way this dinosaur knows about this stuff is that she has 20 something friends.

You were either dating back in the day or you were just friends. There was not a term called “we’re talking”. If you wanted to communicate you had to talk.

Sorry, I wandered. My friend was going to stay single for six months. Here is a sure fired way to meet someone, give up, swear off dating, give yourself the power to decide what you want, so someone can swoop in and shake you up to your very core.

I know this; it has happened to me twice. Both times turned out great or at least the second one has so far. The first time it happened there was an 18 1/2 year marriage.

The second I have enjoyed keeping company or talking to or whatever it is you do nowadays for 5ish years.

This was after being lied to and cheated on by this lame, cowboy wanna be.  So I know what it is like to say, nah I’d rather be alone.

And right on schedule a handsome, charming, brilliant man notices me. Still trying to understand what he sees in me but I ain’t knocking it.

So the night she told me about the six month thing, I told her to buckle her seatbelt. He came out of no where. He wasn’t on her radar. She was taken aback that he absolutely flipped over her. I see her point of view, I would feel the same way.

She of course started with I have never dated anyone like him before  and being the brutally honest type I said and those turned out so well.

Then she started finding little quirks about him. I knew what was happening, she was running scared. She told me in the past that she had done all the chasing, that when someone was interested in her she got more emotionally invested than they did and a lot faster.

She got spooked. He will drive three hours to spend time with her. He has taken her to meet his parents. He tells her that she is perfect. She doesn’t know what to do with that. I told her to enjoy it. I remember when someone told me I was perfect and beautiful although I couldn’t see it myself. That was another life time. It would take someone seeing it before I admitted it to myself .

She is at the point where he wants to meet her parents and she isn’t sure she is ready for that. I get it, there are family members that I don’t want to subject my person to simply to protect him from them. Family will latch on and pick something apart and ruin something good if you are not careful.

She doesn’t know how to handle this. She is not sure of her feelings. I told her to take her time. Not to make any rash decisions either way, to enjoy the time they spend together.

I understand walls, I have them but if he truly loves her, he will slowly tap and chip away at that wall. If he tries to bulldoze it down she will run like a rabbit.

I don’t know how it will end. I listen to her, weigh in when asked, choose my words so carefully that she made a comment that she sees the wheels turning.

She wants the fairytale. I truly hope she gets it. I have just seen enough of life to realize that everyone seems to think that everything is disposable, including relationships. I don’t see life that way, never have and I guess I never will. I take commitment seriously. I have lived through the worst thing I could. Guess that’s a good thing about being around before swipe left, swipe right and such existed.

Writing Prompt: When you were taught a lesson by a child….

I had a job where I worked around children for 13 years. Never having any offspring of my own, this filled a void in my life; the biggest lesson I was taught by a child was from my littlest little at the time.

At a point when my life changed completely, she was only six months old. As a matter of fact, the  day she was born we were having a cancer treatment and my late husband wanted to make sure that he would not harm her if he went to see her.

He passed away before she was old enough to know him. She doesn’t fully understand that I was once married.

I would follow her as she grew and began crawling, then walking, then running.

I was taking life the same way she was. Learning my way around at first crawling if I needed to. As she was learning to stand on wobbly legs, I was doing so emotionally. She quickly became her own little, quirky personality.

I think I admire that part about her as much as anything. When she has an entire conversation with no one on a cell phone with no service or plays with a computer keyboard saying she can run the world from right there, it gives me an insight into imagination.

She has taught me a great deal and when I am around, I am the chosen playmate. This is because when she lets her imagination run wild, I go right along with her.

Last year for Christmas, when she was 6, I gave her the little point and shoot camera  I bought the day she was born, just to take photos of her. For about a month, her entire family fussed at me because she was blinding them taking pictures. She took it with her to the grocery store one day and actually got some amazing photos.

When she shoots with my big camera, she will take one shot and say It’s good. I’ll say well let me check it. She will say why? It’s good and it always is. Now that is confidence.  She is fearless.

She will from time to time pull out the note that I put in with her camera and show me that she still has it.

She loves to collect rocks. She keeps her collection outside beside the porch but I always try to get her a rock if I go someplace new.

You see although not in chronological years, in many ways we are about the same age and she  taught me how to start over.

Losing myself for a while… in a good way….

673F9D4D-8DD2-4973-B437-49A162D13F25For  several years I have been unable to sit and read an entire book. Being an avid reader my entire life, I found this somewhat disturbing. I have always been able to escape reality through the words of others, painting a masterpiece  in my brain as to the words I was reading on the page. Inspired, so much so,that I work on my own book from time to time. Will it ever be published? I have no idea but it is a goal to for which to strive.

Yesterday, I picked up a book designed with teen steampunk distopian readers in mind. The name of the book is The Nine Pound Hammer by John Claude Bemis.  The first of his clockwork dark trilogy.

I was fortunate enough to get to meet this author at a workshop a few years back in my former life as a youth services librarian. He autographed the books for me. It was pretty cool to meet someone who actually had done what I would  like to do.

Yesterday, I read his words for several hours. I will admit I am a slow reader but I take in every word allowing to add touches with the finest of paint brushes to the painting I am creating in my brain.

The fact that it is a steampunk novel is adding to my reading enjoyment.

As I read the words on the page I could see the lavish train in which the book starts. I could see the dirty children who were being relocated on this particular orphan train.

I saw faces of people who were not  the same as I that he met along the way and I felt the pain as he struggles to find where he is supposed to be in his life.

I felt the pull of the lodestone his father gave him guiding him from adventure to adventure.

For only the second time in six years I was anxious to get back to my easy chair and disappear into the pages of the mode of escape.

Thank you Mr. Bemis. For taking time out of your busy schedule to spend it with a would be writer and for the words that allow me to disappear for a while.

New Years Eve and I partied Like A Rockstar

It is 10:00 pm and I am writing this from my bed.

New Years Eve didn’t turn out like I would have wished. My wish would have been to spend the last day of the year with him. It didn’t happen, I spent my day alone.

I wasn’t bored though. I did my workout. Learning some great new moves that might come in handy someday.

I read for a while. I wrote for a while. I played a few games on my phone. Cleaned a little. Did a test fuse on a new kind of glass, that was a huge disappointment. At 9:00 my local creeper sent a message wishing me a happy new year. Telling me I am sweet and he thinks of me often…..ummm no!

I did another workout with my exercise ball to work on my midsection. I did my balance exercises.

Now, I lay here looking at the red LED lights along the ceiling. I will allow myself to drift off in beautiful restful sleep, knowing that although I was alone, I had a fun day.

The things I Do For Me…..

I have many hobbies. Hobbies, you know those things that you do for enjoyment.

I was going through some paintings I had played with a while back. I had actually forgotten about them. They are abstract. It is just me playing. I liked them a lot. One I am going to hang in my workroom, apparently I am not accomplished enough to call my work space a studio. So, I call it my workroom.

I paint, I read, I write,  I take photos, I try new things, I fail, I try again. Nobody ever gets to see these. It is not their hobby. It is mine. I do these things for my soul.

I don’t need someone judging it by their standard. I simply need to do it to be doing. You won’t ever see any of my work hanging in a museum. You won’t find my writings on the shelves of your favorite bookstore.

It is the pain, joy, flights of fancy and all the other things inside me; done by me and for me.