It’s almost dark outside on this dreary, drippy fall Monday and I am drinking my second latte of the day. Plus, if you must know, I drank most of the coffee pot coffee this morning. I am hoping this last (over) dose of caffeine will kick start me so I can feel clear enough to finish the work I get paid for and still be nice to my children at what I like to call the “mom just wants to go to bed and leave you all to your own devices” hour. Screw the housework. It can wait. But until the caffeine hits, I thought I would talk to my blog while I am in a fog, and see what happens.
It’s hard for me to post something on my blog site every day. I probably shouldn’t have even attempted the ‘Every Day in November’ deal. This will be my 14th post in 24 days. That’s a 58.3%. Dillin: does this count as a “Healthy F”?
The problem is that I am moody and my moods effect how I see (and tell of) myself and the world and when I don’t see the world or me as nifty or peculiar or wicked fun I would rather not talk to you all about it. I think it’s rude to write negatively. Why spread dark clouds?
Unless you happen to be a SMART writer who can write negative things beautifully. I don’t know how to do that. When I am in a bad mood I use even more swear words than usual and call things dumb a lot. Like a four year old. (Not the swear words, the saying things are dumb.) (Unless your four year olds are like mine were: little stinker parrots.)
But do any of you find it interesting how one day you can look in the mirror and want to blow kisses at your awesomeness and you actually DO because it just FEELS right to blow kisses at yourself. If you have never done this, I highly recommend that you do. But don’t actually kiss the mirror. That would be weird. Plus you would have to clean the slobber off the mirror. Which is a pain. And if your mirror is like mine you could actually get a taste of someone else’s toothpaste spit-splash. And that could possibly wreck the awesomeness mood.
But then sometimes the very next day, with NO changes to your physical appearance, it’s hard to refrain from gagging at the sight of yourself BUT because you hate throwing up, you sigh heavily instead and turn off the lights while you brush your teeth? I mean it could be that the day before you wore black and black is your “make you look hot” color and on this day you wore yellow which makes you look like you have jaundice. It could be that. But more than likely it is simply your mood that has you scowling at your beautiful self. This is REALLY when you should be blowing the kisses but it is just too hard to lift your hand to your mouth when you are in a bad mood. Plus it’s dark in the bathroom.
This morning I was in a great mood but then pretty much used up all my energy singing a slightly altered sound track from The Sound of Music to the little boys as they left for school: “So long, farewell, it’s time for you to go! Adieu, adieu to you and you and you.” It’s best to NOT kiss them on the foreheads when you are singing with your mouth open. It messes their cool spiked up boy bangs. So you know. In case you were going to try it. Slow things down and kiss them between each ‘you’. They like that better. And you also don’t get firm hold gel in your mouth.
But when I was downtown today for work, even though I was kind of sapped from all that singing, I was still in love with all ‘my downtown people’ and had to hold back from blowing kisses at them. Because this is generally frowned upon downtown. Come to find out people sometimes take it wrong and think you are a weirdo. It’s different when you blow kisses at yourself in the privacy of your own bathroom. No one usually sees that.
But you know the people I’m talking about: the high; the homeless; the mentally off kilter; the really thin lady with orange dreadlocks, a giant back pack and guitar, who still walks really fast despite her load; even the guy in the suit talking on his phone who runs into a parking meter. All the downtrodden people who keep on keeping no matter what. I was relieved that despite being tired today I was not in such a negative mood that I could not see each of them shine with their own unique grace through the heavy baggage most of them carry. And I’m not talking about back packs or guitars.
So many of them are smiling.
Except the suit. He was NOT happy. (I’m so sorry dude: after I cringed at your full on bonk, I giggled. That was rude. I really, really hope that was the only bad thing that happened to you today. )
And we know why the high people are smiling. Whatever. I’m in love with them too, though with full awareness that the crash will come too soon in all its agony.
But most of these people just plug along in their day, so many of them with incredible beauty despite the layers upon layers of dirty, not warm enough clothes and boots with holes in them.
Most of them for sure don’t get to have TWO lattes in one day, let alone one and as this last hit of caffeine clears my head I am thinking: wouldn’t it be cool to have a golf cart equipped with snow tires and a coffee pot, where I could take an hour each day and just drive around handing out coffee. I would have real cream too, and sugar. How cool would that be?
Okay. Clearly I need to be cut off from this addictive drink. But still. I could be the kiss blowing coffee fairy. You can’t be a weirdo when you are handing out free coffee. It’s impossible. That would make a difference. In my mood. And I’d have this cool golf cart.
Plus I am dying to ask the dreadlock lady to play guitar for me. She might slow down and do that if she had a cup of coffee. I bet she rocks.