Today I stray from Meaty Ave. and head down Dalliance Ln. Won’t you join me, please?
Last week, while at the gym, I and one of my more gregariously uninhibited friends, loudly and spontaneously broke out in song. How this came about, well, that I am still not quite sure of; and whether or not gym-patrons were lachrymosely tossing ruby-red long-stemmed roses, or hurtling squishy rotten tomatoes at us . . . remains to be seen.
Either way, however, it got me thinking about a couple things: one being, that perhaps we could start a fun new trend, hm? Can’t you see it? People residing in all four corners of the facility — the cardio cougars, the grunting weight-wielders, the somnolent stretchers, and the zany Zumba-teers . . . wow, Cara, just wow — coming together in jovial harmony. Could be fun, yeah? Well, I had another thought, too, this one less likely to cause a mass riot. But before I get into that, take a look at this picture.
Oh, Julie . . . let’s be friends, shall we?
You cannot tell me this doesn’t make you smile; if you do, I won’t believe you. That is, unless, you have yet to see The Sound of Music, which, if that’s the case then stop what you’re doing this instant and head to Target. They should have a few copies. Once home, watch and enjoy! The rest of you stick with me . . .
Perhaps you are wondering how and why The Sound of Music suddenly made an appearance in this post. Well, I tell you: because the song my loquacious friend and I sang just so happened to be “My Favorite Things.” The temptation is high, I know, but do try and not get ahead of me. I promise there will be plenty of time to do what I know many of you have already begun doing, sitting behind your compeer screen, lips twitching in anticipation. With that said, I’ve posted the link for your connivence. Come on, you know you want to. Take the two minutes and nineteen seconds and listen to a song that is sure to bring you to your feet in merry soprano. Simply click “open link in new window” and sit back and sing. Heck, go on and grab a hair-brush if you like. No one’s watching.
Ah, that was nice, wasn’t it?
So that other thing I was telling you about. Many of you will know that the last three months haven’t been the easiest to endure. Though the Lord continues to move in the benighted and scary, one cannot help but feel episodes of hopelessness and desperation. And for me, anyway, singing is one of the ways in which I thrust back, push the baser emotions aside in exchange for vitality, praise, hope, and passion. When I was a little girl, I idolized Whitney Houston and Celine Dion — I wanted to be just like them when I grew up. In lieu of recent events, I am quite thankful to be Cara, however, their gifts are paramount, and I believe one of the gifts God gave to me is my love and expression for music. Maneuvering around my kitchen the other morning, unexpectedly I found myself singing the first few bars of “My Favorite Things.“
Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens . . .
It wasn’t long before I was twirling around the stage — ahem, the kitchen — fingers bunched in my robe, eyes scrunched and mouth ajar, freeing the songful beast determined to have me. And so I let her.
While I did that, I began to consider my favorite things. The other day I wrote of things and their lack of eternal value, but that does not mean things do not have some value. Maybe you’ll agree that, in the midst of trials and sufferings, how easy it is to lose sight of the simple joys God has given us. I thought it might be wise to compile a list, so that during those times when the light seems to flee in the other direction, I might have a source of joy to consult. So, in no particular order, here they are; a few things that, should my mood be colored blue, are bound to return my soul to its glad-song and joy.
What better way to spend a casual night in, then with friends, popcorn, candy, and a fantastic flick? I certainly don’t know of one.
Wild curly hair — check. Thick-rimmed frames — check. Book in tow — super check. Up there with writing and volunteering, reading is likely my most gratifying passion. I considered using pictures of books I adore, but that could take a while; instead I opted to post the Book Worm herself.
= ultimate content. Saturday morning is my time, to eschew the urge to check e-mails or get busy on the chores moaning they cannot wait. Oh, but they can, and they will. After an hour with my coffee and a magazine filled with all sorts of gorgeous rooms, ideas, and inspirations, I am wanting for nothing.
Large or small, sumptuous or simple, fragrant or scentless — it really doesn’t matter to me; a bouquet of flowers holds magical powers. My heart flutters at the sight of them.
Let’s see how good you are. How many of you can guess where I am? I’ll give you a few seconds to think about it.
. . . . . . . . . . . Time’s up!
Did you guess the thrift store? If so, award yourself three points, which you can cash in anytime you like in return for one sincere accolade. I could walk the aisles of a thrift store for an entire day. It would be heaven. However, usually the dust bests me in about 2-3 hours, and I am forced to evacuate the premises, red-eyed, sneezing, and with a grin the size of Texas on my face. For the treasure stowed in my bag was surely worth it.
PJ’S! I’ve lost count of how many sets of pajamas I own, but it has to be somewhere around a dozen. I cannot own enough. And they are conducive to my profession, as creativity does not cater to cinched waists, confining support-systems, and uncomfortable heels. Be freed fleshy appendages!
My predilection for things lemon takes on many forms. This candle — Harry and David’s, Lemon Bar — is divine. Within moments of igniting the wick, the house is teeming with the affable, not-too-overwhelming aroma of sweet, citrus-y, decadent lemon. Our sense of smell, I feel, is something we often overlook, neglecting to appreciate it as much as we should. Without smell, taste would not be nearly as satisfying, nor would the moments you spend partaking of a person, place, or thing be nearly as enjoyable. The smell of rain on asphalt. Chocolate-chip cookies baking in the oven. The grass just after its been mowed. That first sip of coffee in the morning. Or that fresh, soapy scent lingering on your love’s skin, seconds after she’s emerged from the shower . . .
Hardly in need of a caption, I will be brief here and say that it is those first moments of the night’s capitulation to morning’s glory, the blossoming sky unfolding its hued petals in sultry delay, that unmakes me, that soothes my lethargic soul and imbues me with strength.
So how about you? Would compiling a list of some of your favorite things be of benefit to you? This post was an indulgence of sorts, mostly fun, but not completely useless. Though today I find myself in good spirits and positivity, I cannot expect trouble to entertain herself for long. She’ll be back; she always is. So why not be prepared, I say.
Happy Sunday, everyone!