I just can’t

A recent publication mentioned the inability to do nothing. It might have made this character trait out to be something negative, but I took no offense. Indeed, I am surrounded by many who also are ingrained with the inability to do nothing.

For example, the beautiful lady with me in the photos below. The left photo is semi-polished, “professional”, if you will. The right? Well, that’s our normal day-to-day ops. Laughing like hyenas. Usually while others stand back and watch the show. Typical.

Which brings me to my next point. Mini won student of the month for integrity. Super proud Mom moment. She, too, has an inability to do nothing, especially concerning righting wrongs. She is a loyal friend, a kind human, and a rule follower dujour. I am exceptionally proud – an “A” student, a book lover, and easily one of the most creative, bold children I know. She makes me proud, and laugh so loudly.

Course change.

For several nights, nightmares and sleeplessness plagued me. I dreamt my boss was the devil, my previous boss was seriously ill, and I kept hearing phantom knocking. Real exciting times, Kel. I wracked my brain for what could be bothering me, but arrived at zero answers. Perhaps it was just a bout of insomnia, or weather change, or general unspecified anxiety. It eventually passed. My only takeaway was this: some are frustrated where they are in life, professionally or personally, or both. I think learning to play the game is imperative, in whatever way it is for you. Some go on to live nomadic lifestyles, or expat themselves within another’s borders. That’s all well and good. But you can’t hate the game. It’s the game, it’s doing what the game does. You either learn to bend a little or you spend your entire life fighting it, most likely to succumb to death (like the rest of us) with frustration. No one is forced to play, and you certainly don’t have to like your hand, but if you choose not to change, then you can’t be surprised when the house wins.

____________________________

I ask you –

Do you have someone in your life who makes you laugh wildly?

Tell me – do you play the game or do you expend your energy fighting it?

(The post I just can’t first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Friendship Funny Farm, pt 2

Back on the subject of friendships and how I pretty much suck at making new ones, it turns out one of mini’s classmates/friend is the daughter of a young man I worked with at Sonic a billion years ago because I’m old. Correction: I’m not the typical kindergartener’s mother’s age. And I’m totally fine with this!

Credit: fuckologyofficial via Instagram

Anyway, I’ve had a few encounters with this classmate’s mother, who is married to the guy I worked with. Keep up. The classmate is sweet and seems to do well in school. If mini’s antecdotes are to be believed. Each “Mommy encounter” has been pleasant until recently. I have her number saved and we’ve text before – she seems nice. However, the most recent time I saw her she said wildly funny things. She made an Anna Nicole Smith joke – God rest her soul. What’s funny is I’m old enough to get the joke. She also underscored the struggles we’re going through as parents with very needy children! And if you know anything about me to this point, then you know my mom abilities border on the completely unprepared. By border, I mean fall spectacularly short.

Herein lies the real issue. I want to be friends with this hilarious woman. But I’m not good at the making friends thing. I believe I’m the funniest woman on earth so this should be simple, right? Make a few jokes, endear myself to her, then pounce! Did this get weird? Or are you supposed to court them first? Told you…old lady here. Do I schmooze her with coffee? What if she doesn’t like coffee? Hard pass. We can’t be friends. Ever. I’ve already stalked her on social media which is how I found out about the husband/previous coworker piece. At least I’m honest!

parking lot motivation

Did you know: Children laugh, on average, 150 times a day. Adults laugh, on average, only six times a day. This is why adults are so grumpy! Because they don’t laugh enough. Find something to laugh at! I suggest starting with yourself.

Finally, my self-talk game is getting ridiculous. I sound like I’m talking to a geriatric horse. Come on, ole girl, the stairs aren’t too bad. See. Told you I was funny.

________________________

I ask you –

How many friends do you have?

What should I do to make her be my friend?

Tell me how funny I am!

Random Things, pt 11

There’s nothing easy or simple about reflecting on your past. It can be ugly back there.

new life in the neighborhood

I think back to my first marriage and how every sign pointed to a dead end street. But we blindly charged forward. We both had come from unhealthy upbringings surrounded by addiction and loss. Did I mention we were 18 & 19 yrs old? Hardly an age to be considered adults much less make such a profound choice. And we were wildly different. I was studious and practical whilst he was carefree and spontaneous. Prude meets bum. We were two kids with very opposite viewpoints on almost everything. A match made in heaven!

There’s comfort in this: “When fear knocks on the door of your life, let faith answer!”

Lately I’ve found myself connecting with much older and much younger people more than those my age. Could it be just a season of life? Maybe it’s always been this way and I didn’t notice.

Something made me think about how my addiction to coconut oil has become a habit to rub off on others. Get it, get it. Even before it was a “thing”, I was using coconut oil on my skin, face, hair, you name it. Personally I attribute my overuse of it to the reason I survived pregnancy sans stretch marks. Well, no more than I started with. Many years ago, my destroyer berthing mates knew if I had been in berthing by the smell of my lotion (pure coconut oil). I guess there could be worse smells. Now as I slather it on by the handful, even my mini gets in on the action. Like mother, like daughter. Some say it clogs your skin, etc but mine has never been healthier. Thousands of island-inhabited women can’t be wrong.

On a scale of 1 to You’re Fired, how well would it go over if every time I walked into the restroom at work, and noticed another person in the stall, I yelled “HOWDY, BATHROOM BUDDY!”? Can I tell you a secret? Anytime I go into the restroom in public and can sense (or smell) (or hear) other people being very quiet, I feel like they just want to poop in peace so I try to leave as quickly as possible. Kel, you’re so weird. Do men’s restrooms not behave this way? Why not?

my demise

Run streaking is going splendidly. The hottest run was nearly 87 degrees. My only saving grace was the incredibly strong, 20+mph winds. So instead of it feeling like a sauna, it was like a dryer! That’s always fun. I’ve managed to secure time during my lunch hour to go out to run so I consider myself very lucky. Until it gets above 88, then I’m out. Yay sunrise runs! “People make time for what’s important to them” – this is mine.

________________

I ask you –

How many times have you been married? Bonus points if you hit your state’s limit on marriages. Texas is 5, by the way.

Do you talk to others while in the restroom?

Tell me your go-to motto!