gobsmacked

I stopped to buy some cashews while driving home last night because I was hungry, and I wanted something mindless to snack on in the car. I was listening to Boz Skaggs "But Beautiful", and was enjoying the cool night air blowing through the sunroof. Earlier in the night a word just popped into my head - "beautiful", and that word lead to the thought of the song, and before I knew it there were too many thoughts in my head.

I'd take a handful of cashews, a deep breath, and I'd focus only on the air. Cool, beautiful air. I carefully avoided the mind traps - I wasn't going to let myself slip into over analyze mode, or be self-deprecating. "Enjoy this", I told myself. Crunchy cashews, cool air, nice music, and relatively empty roads.

Trembling, gobsmacked, and lost in each bite of cashew. I wanted to be home, open the windows, go to bed, and fall asleep so I could wake up, and get back to work.

It's nice to feel things, but sometimes a little scary. Sometimes a drive, or a day, or whatever bit of distance can help. Even when you know answers to questions in your heart, it never hurts to let it go for a while. I am thankful for the confidence that has grown in me over time. Thankful for so many things, and thankful for each beautiful moment that comes my way.

whistling in the dark

I was hungry, and I was craving soup. Not just any soup, but something warm, creamy, and delicious.

I went to the local diner and ordered what they promised was the best. I waited, and got a little impatient, but was appreciative when my order finally arrived. It was a "to go" order, so I got back in the car, took out the spoon, and started to eat. (Yes, you can eat soup and drive.)

About two-thirds of the way through the soup (which was very good), I put something in my mouth that I immediately knew wasn't right. I spit it back onto the spoon, and was horrified when I saw a scorpion. (Sidenote: I've got a phobia about these insects. When I was little I took weekend trips to the farm with my Dad. Before bed he would pull down the sheets to make sure there weren't any scorpions waiting to sting little girls feet or legs. In the morning I knew to turn my shoes upside down and give them a good shake before putting them on. Many years later I'd taken a weekend trip to the same farmhouse. There's no disposal in the kitchen sink, so I swept the sink trap with my fingers to make sure no bits of food had gotten lodged in there. I had my head turned towards the backdoor, and freaked out when I felt things moving. I looked into the sink and saw four scorpions.)

I quickly dumped the scorpion back into the remainder of soup in the styrofoam bowl, and turned the car around. I was angry, and wanted the diner owner to know he'd served me bug-infested soup.

I walked back in, set the bowl down, and said "Look! I was nearly finished with this soup you sold me when I put this in my mouth!" I pulled the scorpion back out of the soup, and poured the rest of the soup onto the counter.

The diner owner looked casually at me and asked, "Did you like the soup?"

I looked puzzled. How could he so calmly ask me if I liked the soup while this menacing looking bug sat right there on the counter between us? The scorpion started to crawl away, and tears of frustration filled my eyes.

"Would you like your money back?", he asked.

I watched the scorpion out of the corner of my eye, and glanced back at the diner owner, who had a grin on his face.

"Yes, I would like my money back." I wanted to tell him I also wanted compensation for emotional distress, but I kept my mouth shut as he handed me $6.


And then I woke up. (Yes, the scorpion was still alive in my dream.)


In other non-creepy-dream-related news...

That last post was a pretty half-assed attempt at writing something. I've wracked my brain for something else to share, and remembered this weird dream I had a while back. Soup. Scorpions. Who the hell knows what that all means, but I'm sure Freud would find something interesting to analyze there.

I wish I could write about the work I've been doing, but I've taken an oath of confidentiality. Then there's that other thing, but we won't go there.

Let's see...I'm still enjoying my family immensely. They're an endless source of entertainment, but I haven't written about them here for a reason. I suppose I could ask, "Hey, do you mind if I write about teaching you how to shave your legs?" (I think we all know what that answer would be.) So, not so much writing about that (although - boy - the things that come out of this young ladies mouth can be heartbreakingly truthful.)

I still enjoy a nice glass of wine (and by glass, I mean glasses). I still listen to the dorkiest music on Earth (example: I'm listening to The Mills Brother's "Glow Worm" this very second! For real!) I'm still cooking, avoiding ironing, riding the bike thousands of miles to nowhere, reading, cultivating, twittering, breathing, and getting the occasional goosebump.

I'm still that wildly optimistic girl forever whistling in the dark.

a letter of apology

Dear Kelly,

Let's face it. You were your own worst critic for too many years. How many times did I hear you question your judgement, or your looks, or your skills in just about every area of life. I give you credit for never questioning your taste, because, seriously, you have impeccable taste in everything, but, come on, why weren't you wearing that string bikini all summer long when you were 20? Because you weren't tan enough? Well, it's o.k., and it's time to let it go. Why did you allow your Dad to talk you out of being a journalism major? Because he said something along the lines of "journalists are all liberal idiots, and you'll never make enough money to survive". Poor judgement, but it's time to let it go because that was the only piece of bad advice your hero ever gave you. And, you remember all those times you choked on fear because you thought you just weren't good enough - to dance, to make a souffle, or to write an inspired love letter? You now know that giving whatever you want a go is the only answer, and you might just find out you're good at it. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks - continue to put your heart in things, and you will impress yourself.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to apologize to myself, at least in a semi-public way. Life is so much better now that I care about myself. I can take pride in jobs well done, and forgive myself for the times I stumble.

Now, give yourself a big hug, and go take up a new hobby, like vodka, or handcuff collecting.

Why, hello there. Long time. No post. Why don't you follow me on facebook? You may friend request me here. http://www.facebook.com/people/Kelly-Boatwright-Groat/628588543 (As you know, all of us terribly old people have taken over.)

In other news, I've had this blog for... what?? Over 8 years? I guess you could say a long time. I'm not sure if anyone ever visits this place any more, or if people just show up via some random Google search. At any rate, I kind of miss having a place to be creative, but honestly who has the time these days? Life is good, and busy, and not always neat and tidy, but certainly good.

I'm going to have a glass of wine, watch something funny, and hug my family.

Howdy, strangers. I hope everyone had a nice Summer, Fall, and Holiday season. Me? Well, when life hands you lemons, you drink tequila shots, 'eh?

Speaking of lemons, and life, we can just sum things up by saying things have been challenging. Challenges can be good, and they can make you appreciate the things that do go right, and the things that make you step back and understand that as bad as something may seem at the time, it could be worse.

I'm drinking less, working out more (need to find a way to bottle endorphins), spending less money, driving more miles, sleeping less, cooking more, watching less television, reading more books, and focusing more on family and friends.

I'm sitting here, typing, asking myself, "why are you doing this instead of grilling that chicken up for dinner tonight?" The sad thing is I'm actually trying to answer myself, and I'm getting frustrated with myself because I can't come up with a logical answer. "Uhhh, I dunno - maybe I'm procrastinating. Maybe my brain is just crispy from stress, lack of sleep, disappointment, and worry that doing ANYTHING else is just too hard." It's also better than opening a bottle of wine, and crying.

So, yeah - hi. I want to blog more, or - to tell the truth - I want to write more. I want to have a day where I stay in my bathrobe, turn on the computer, and just write. Write about my oatmeal and blueberries, and grapefruit juice, and how luxurious the silence is. I want to write about my new Ugg Coquette slippers, and how truly hideous they are, but how they're becoming my favorite shoes because nothing is more comfortable. I want to write about how much I want to shake sense into some people, and how much I'd like to move to a nice little cabin in the mountains with only one t.v., one computer, and one cell phone. And maybe a dvd player, but that's it.

I bought a bottle of Unisom at CVS this afternoon, and I'll take one around 8:30 p.m., and hope I fall asleep shortly after that. I've got to get up at 4:00 a.m., and take my Mom to the hospital for surgery tomorrow morning. Nothing major, but just a tiny example of how I'm pulled in a lot of different directions. I'm not complaining, I'm just tired.

I'm also thankful that I am able to be here for the people that need me. I'm just hoping I can find a time where I'm not worried, and I'm able to enjoy life in a carefree manner. It almost seems irresponsible to think I can be "carefree", but for just one day it would be nice.