Levity

SOL # 10 (should be #12) See below to find out what the Slice of Life challenge is

Once a week at my school, we play pickleball after the kids leave. (We are not idiots. We know that if we played when the kids could watch us, it would go viral... and it would be very embarrassing.)

I am extremely competitive when it comes to some sports. (Pool. Kickball--when I can butt into a kids' game. And apparently pickleball.) Unfortunately, I don't have any skills to back up that competitive spirit. Fortunately, I only groan and yell over my own mistakes. Everybody else (when they miss a shot)? Great try... That was a tough one... That almost went in.

                                                 image by Curious Fun, via Pixabay

I wanted to tell the group my great softball story, but everyone had to leave as soon as we finished playing, so I'll tell you:

It happened 11 or 12 years ago. My daughter was invited to fill in at a softball game. (She is extremely athletic. Who knows where she got it from.) I tagged along to watch my then four-year-old granddaughter. I figured while Virginia played (slow pitch--something she wasn't used to), I could sit and watch Riley at the playground.

Virginia's team was short players, and was on the verge of forfeiting. They convinced me to catch. It'll be easy. You just let the ball bounce, you pick up the ball and toss it to the pitcher... The pitcher will cover home plate if there's somebody coming home. How hard could that be? (There were other grandmothers sitting in lawn chairs, and they promised they'd keep an eye on Riley.)

Okay. I can help out and do that.

An awful twist of fate: when I walked off the field after catching an inning, thinking I'd return to catch in a bit, I found out that if I caught, I also had to bat. 

Uh oh.

I came up to bat three times. The first time, I swung around like a windmill. Three times. I struck out. The second time, I chopped at the ball like I was cutting firewood. Again, I struck out. The third time, I was determined to make contact with the ball. I ran forward (I didn't even swing) and the ump yelled, "You're out!"

"What do you mean, I'm out? I didn't even swing!" (I was hot... and I don't mean Beyonce hot and I don't mean temperature-wise hot.)

Apparently there's something called a batter's box. And I had ran too far forward and out of the box... which is an automatic out.

That evening Riley proclaimed, "Grammy, you were phenomenal." (Perhaps that was partially fueled by the knowledge that Grammy was treating them to Ted Drewes?) Today we laugh and laugh... because it was hilarious.

Levity. It's a healing balm...

Forgiving Yourself

SOL #9 (should be #11) See below for what the Slice of Life challenge is

Yesterday evening, I had to forgive a frozen food company for making crab rangoons with something bready instead of with wonton wrappers. What's with that? I mean, seriously.

As is sometimes my life, I drifted into sleep too early, woke up, began this post (at 11 PM) fell back asleep, and woke up at 2 AM.

Oops. This is the 2nd time I have not posted, in a post-every-day-this-month challenge.

                                                       image by Insecurity, via Pixabay

Perhaps it's come with age, or perhaps it's due to a well entrenched I-don't-give-a-flying-fig attitude... but I forgive myself a lot. I understand that I do the best I can do    most of the time I do my best    most of the time I do my best when I don't have The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel or the new season of Ozark singing to me like sirens.

So I missed a day of posting? So I am probably not going to be able to bake chocolate chip cookies for the retreat this weekend? (I'm just prepping some of you: it might be store-bought hummus and sweet potato crackers instead of home-baked cookies.) So I'm really really really behind on a writing project?

Oops. Oops. And oops. (There is a power in three.)

Forgive yourself.  Forgive yourself thoroughly and often. You don't have to be pouchy-bellied and silver-haired to come to this realization. Embrace it now. YOLO (I admit, I had to look this up this week)  and life is too short.

 

It's a Dog's Life

SOL #8 (should be #9) See below to find out what the Slice of Life Challenge is.

I jacked up my knee a couple of weeks ago. Finally, I don't have to gingerly walk down the steps, two week on each step. Finally, I could take Radar for a walk in the park instead of into the backyard for a game of fetch.

It's so nice to get to smell new, different smells. The smells in our backyard? Too familiar. The smells in the park? New and exciting.

                                                                      image by Pixabay

Saliva pooled along his gums, he was so excited. 

Dogs. They have such lessons to teach us. Lessons like:

• Savor the moment. The next minute might not be as fun as right now is. The evening might be unpleasant or boring... but right now, there's joy.

• Keep your head swiveling. All dogs constantly turn their heads in a million directions every minute, so they don't miss anything. My dog is ADD, just like every male in my immediate family, and when he's on a walk he's on high alert for other dogs, the really big dogs by the park (AKA horses), the chickens by the park, and any people (especially children) who are there for the sole purpose of admiring him. As crazy as it drives me, it is a good idea to change your perspective regularly, so you don't miss something cool.

• Ask for what you want. Nobody's petting you? Bark. Nobody's paying attention to you? Tap a paw with nails that need to be trimmed twice. Over and over, until a hand reaches out and strokes you. Ask... the worst that can happen is you'll get a no.

And again, it's almost midnight. If I don't finish this now, it'll get posted with tomorrow's date... and I'll be behind again.

Short Legs Upright For Too Long

       SOL #7 (It should be #8)  See below for what the Slice of Life challenge is all about.

       It's been a long day. I've been up for so long, I've got the Jimmy Legs, just like Kramer's girlfriend.

     

       When you're old, you look forward to the simple things. Sleep. A book you can read until you fall asleep. A bowl of potato soup. Finally starting the new season of Ozark. Napping on Saturday afternoon. Wrapping up in a quilt and snuggling on the couch. (Can you see a theme in this post?)

        My quilt and my pillow and I have a date right now...

(By the way, I Googled "photos of a bed" and they each had a lingerie-clad woman sprawled across it. None of them looked like me, with flannel PJ bottoms and a stained t-shirt and slouchy socks.)

Oh crap. It's 11:56 PM. I promised Tracy...

Only One Hour

This evening I spent only one hour with a complete stranger. Yet when she left, I felt reenergized... replenished.

The first Monday and the second Tuesday of every month, I'm at a table at St. Louis Bread Co. Most times, it's just me, which is fine. I get some writing done. I get some papers graded. I play Wordscapes on my phone. I answer emails.

                                                               image by Pixabay

However, this time, I was pleasantly surprised. A woman came up to me and said, "Your name wouldn't by chance be Sioux?" Wonder of wonders, she was there to get some feedback on her picture book manuscript.

Asking too many questions (as is usual for me), I learned she had the idea for this book 15 years ago. This would be her first book baby. As I read her manuscript, I was charmed. The rhyme was natural and didn't stick out in a stilted fashion. (I hate when people can rhyme so seamlessly. ;) There was a flair to the plot. A sassyness to the characters that was delightful.

Spending time with other writers gives me energy... reignites my passion... makes my eyes dance and my hands wave and gesticulate.

When I spend time with other writers--even for only an hour--I'm spending time with my people...

Look around... The leaves are brown

SOL # 5 (should be #6)  See below for what the Slice of Life challenge is. 

I was playing fetch with Radar (my 84-pound bundle of fur), and saw (again) that I need to do some serious raking. The leaves are brown, but it's not a hazy shade of winter. I noticed some green sprouts shooting above the leaves (I think they are those wild onions) which makes me think of spring and warmer weather and no more snow days (since my school has used them all up, I'm no longer frothing at the mouth for them).

Spring.

Then I was watching CBC Sunday Morning News and a commercial came on for the Chicks' (formerly the Dixie Chicks) concert tour... and they're coming to St. Louis. 

Impulsively, I ordered a couple of the cheap (lawn) tickets.

They've been a favorite of mine for many years. When George W. Bush was president, Natalie Maines (the group's lead singer) criticized him during a concert... and a huge landslide happened. The group received death threats, radio stations refused to play their songs, their music plummeted on the hit list, but their fans never faded away. To address the mess, the group (along with Dan Wilson) wrote the song Not Ready to Make Nice.

If you're interested in how they handle domestic abuse (in a humorous way) check out this music video.

Impulses. Usually I don't succumb, but I've never seen them in concert, and for me, going will be a political statement...