Personal Ramblings

the simple constants that give my life rhythm

1. A cup of tea every morning. Just me, Mr. Kitty and the silence of a new day.

2. One oatmeal raisin and walnut cookie from Cookie Connection per trip to the post office. It makes up for how much I hate the packing and shipping part of ebay sales.

3. Hot tub conversations. Every evening, we come together for dinner, followed by half hour in the hot tub. Special news and conversations are save for our evening ritual.

4. Skypeing with my daughter at bedtime. I sleep better knowing she’s safe in her dorm room, tucked in for the night.

5. Browsing for castles for sale. What can I say, you’ve got to daydream a little!

6. Reading a new book every Friday. Gives me a good reason to relax and enjoy the weekend. Chores will still be there on Monday.

7. Journaling my thoughts on a Bible text on Sundays. It’s like a mega dose of Ginseng for me.

8. Sabbath afternoon naps. This one’s self-explanatory.

Personal Ramblings, Reading Life Between the Lines

a zum zum attitude

Sky, about 9, playing mahout

Twenty assorted sizes of tape securely hold down on my desk a very old and wrinkled piece of paper that measures 4 x 3 inches. It is a special piece of paper. From margin to margin, in elementary scribble, is a message: “Hardy-Hee-Hah! La-Lop Lee! Ubee-Ubee-oop-Oop! Koo-Koo! Yipa-Zipa Lipa-Hipa! Ookee-Ookee! Eek-Eek-Eek!  Bo-ba-bee-bap! Oopa-Loopa! Zum-Zum!” Sky was nine when she taped that piece of paper to my desk

“What does it mean?” I asked Sky as she taped it with furious determination and without asking for permission.

She looked at me, rolled her eyes in exasperation and responded with a question of her own: “Does everything have to mean something?”

Being a very mature adult, I was taken aback by this philosophical response from my child. My logical mind silently responded, Of course everything has to mean something. I’m wasting my time if it doesn’t mean anything. Aloud, though, the mother in me said, “So tell me, Sweetie. What is this note all about? Explain it, so I can understand.”

Another roll of the eyes and a sigh preceded her directions: “Read it aloud, Mom, and tell me how it makes you feel.”

More psycho babble from a child, I mumbled to myself before I did as I was told. I started out aloud with the “Hardy-Hee-Hah! . . .” and barely got to the “zum-zum.”  I felt silly! I sounded foolish! I felt like an unburdened child at play. I first smiled. Then I snickered. Finally I was laughing so hard!

“This is my gift to you, Mom,” Sky said matter-of-factly. “Every time you need to stop and smile, read this note.” With those instructions, she left my office—back into her childhood where the problems are simple and the solutions even more so.

Alone again in my adult world, I learned an invaluable lesson that day: Being grown up doesn’t have to be humdrum. You’ve got to find your “Hardy-Hee-Hah!” and have a zum-zum blast of a day.