Kid President

It’s a slow day. I’m not so much writing as I am looking at the clock above my document and wondering if it might be in everyone’s best interest if I close down for the day. Perhaps it’s the weather. Perhaps it’s the hairy black spider I found on my husband’s side of the bed this morning; the little beast scared me half to death before I’d even a chance to sit down for a proper pee. Probably, though, it’s just the weather. I am sensitive like this. I look out my window and see a nimbus laden sky talking some big talk but has yet to deliver. I hope for rain. We had a bit last night, and when I woke up everything was wet and rinsed and even the lawn sparkled in its own way, an aristocratic ambivalence.

The weekend should be lovely. My husband runs his third marathon this year on Sunday. I am astoundingly proud of him. Me, I will avoid running at all cost; even running behind, if I can. It takes a certain sort of masochistic lunacy, albeit a determined lunacy, to tell yourself “Okay, body, we’re going to do this now. Yep, 26.2 miles. Okay, here goes” and then choose not to veer off the path when no one’s looking. I would cheat. I would hail a cab or find the short cut or . . . you know, I probably just wouldn’t sign up in the first place. I love exercising. I go to the gym almost every day, and I find my serenity is waiting for me the moment I slip those earbuds in and wrap my fingers around the cold metal barbell. I go away. I go in. And I go out. But wherever I go, I am always better for having went. I am a happier woman, a better wife, and a funnier friend when I’ve had my daily allotment of endorphins. But there’s this thing. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe other people feel this way. Sometimes I will remember that I am a modest woman and no, you probably won’t ever see me wearing a shirt that bears my midriff or a skirt any higher than the middle of my thighs. So why, I ask myself, why do I push myself to such extremes. And I do – push myself to extremes. I work out like Mozart plays piano. Dun dun dun dun. Dun-dun-dun-DUNNNNN. What I’m saying is, I put much effort into keeping my shape firm and lean, and really the only person seeing it is me. There’s my husband of course, and yes he appreciates it all, but he is not a vain main, you see, and I am not lying when I say that truly he would still think me beautiful even if I had mashed-potato butt. No, really, he would. Scout’s honor. (Not an actual scout, however I abide by the code. Live long and prosper.) So, no, my career isn’t contingent on the number on my tailbone. It’s a 9, just in case you were curious. (I carry my weight below my bum, like little airplane pillows for it to rest on.) ANYWAY, exercise is good, but I could probably scale back some and it would be all right.

Oh dear  . . .

How did we get here? Truly I don’t know. I only meant to say hello, then suddenly my fingers were running amuck. I do actually have something very cool to share with you. Have you met Kid President? Oh, he’s very possibly the most precious boy I’ve never met. And smart. And a great dancer. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.

Enjoy the video, then pass it on to everyone you know. It will make them smile knowing there are people like this in our world.

Happy Weekend, Friends!

Caine’s Arcade

When I was a little girl, I loved to play office. My parents operated their own business, and as result there was always a surplus of paper, pens, clips, envelopes, folders — you name it, they had it — around the house. My father even had this stamp with his name and our home address on it. At eight years-old, I basically thought it was the coolest thing ever.

As for my office, I preferred to set up shop in my room; naturally, as that’s where I was in charge. There I would bring my clients in to discuss our handlings, and summon my employees for office-chats; for some reason I routinely found myself “forced” to penalize them for missing their deadlines. I’ll tell you now, it hurt me more than it hurt them. I considered myself to be a fair boss, but capable of laying down the law when necessary. I even had a badge. Okay, it was a name-tag, but it was pret-ty official looking.

When I wasn’t reprimanding my staff, I would organize everything into piles, or neatly in drawers. I would also make labels, and occasionally I found reason to tear things up; I did not have my own reason for doing so, but witnessed my father in this act many times, and I think I figured better safe than sorry. But what I remember most about playing office was the feeling of productivity, which in turn brought me joy, and still does to this day. Of course, in the end — or, I suppose I should say, the interim — I did not end up working in an office, but perhaps those skills aid me in my endeavor to write books. I like to think so, anyway. And I suspect it’s why, right now, all across the globe, there are tiny bakers and florists and homemakers and dentists and nurses all hard at work, doing what they love – maybe one day they’ll even get paid for it.

And there’s also this little guy, Caine, and his arcade. Ah, I am tempted to go into detail, expounding the awesomeness of what this young man has done. Instead, I’ll shut my mouth – er, my fingers. If you have not seen this video, I hope you’ll watch it now. In return you’ll find yourself smiling for a while, perhaps even the rest of the day, and who doesn’t need a nice, long smile. I did, and I’m still wearing it!

Happy Tuesday to you, my friends.

Zach

Zach-Sobiech-20130520195033

This is Zach Sobiech. Maybe you have heard his story. If not, you aren’t going to want to miss it. It’s one of those really, really, really special stories that gets you Uh! right there. You’ll likely be thinking about him the … Continue reading

When the dog bites . . .

Today I stray from Meaty Ave. and head down Dalliance Ln. Won’t you join me, please?

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Terribly Long Overdue

Please forgive me Rose, Lori, and Jueseppi. I promise I have a valid excuse for not writing a post for this sooner. And that excuse is:

lame.

I heard it my mind and it’s just lame, but here it is despite the lameness. The reason for delaying is that I wanted to have the award pictures up on my sidebar before making it “official” and I needed my husband to do that. He forbids me to mess with the codes — no, not true; I forbid myself. Anyhow, he has been overextended lately and I haven’t wanted to bother him; hence the extremeee delay.

Right now I want to thank each of you, respectively.

Rose — Your comments to me, namely left on “Something is Mi  ing” blew me away. Bloggers wait all month to receive a thoughtful, provoking, insightful comment such as that. Everything you do, you do with passion. It’s all there in the way you express yourself without one bit of ambiguity.  Thank you so much for awarding me “The New Blogger Award.” http://taracrow.wordpress.com

Lori — Did a sweeter lady ever exist? Whenever one of Lori’s post comes through my inbox, I stop and go on over to take a look. I never worry about what I might find because Lori, like myself, pursues the Light. And she exudes it. She’s the type of person who comes up with silly nicknames and post things that matter dearly to her. Lori, I thank you for honoring me with “The Sunshine Award.” You are sunshine embodied. http://blessyourhippieheart.wordpress.com

Jueseppi —  What a character! He is intense, direct, and makes no pretenses about his ebullient ardor and advocacy for our countries’ current president. He is generous with praise, and while it can occasionally slip into more baser humor than I personally enjoy or espouse, he gives it freely without expectation. Since following my blog, I don’t think a post has gone by without him taking the time to “like”  it. Thank you, Jueseppi for bestowing “The Hug Award” upon me. http://theobamacrat.wordpress.com

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