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Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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10:19 a.m. - 2004-06-20
The Wise Woman speaks. In one fell swoop the fabulous Forest Dream has taken a bunch of scattery thoughts I had and summed them up neatly. She said: ‘And if you are thinking, "Goodness, another short-lived project, just like that passion for cross-stitching", you would probably be correct. I'm very very slow at knitting, as I move my entire hand around with the thread. But I'm a firm believer in indulging passions, within reason.’ So very wise, that one. Do stop by and wish her good luck. She’s almost finished sitting for Very Important Exams. I know she’ll do well anyhow, but who among us can’t use a cheering section? Indulging passions. This has been difficult for me for a lot of reasons. First-born perfectionism. Fear of making mistakes. I’m a tightwad and loathe wasting money. The ever present mocking voice of the Ghost Mother. Mike’s condescending smirk, he who is so good at whatever he turns his hand to finds my fumbling first attempts amusing and silly. To step out and have a fling is hard. Yet, these last few years it’s come home to me how few second chances we get. I’ve stopped deferring pleasure and put aside my perfectionism and DO stuff. Even if it costs money. Even if I’m bad at it. It started with a concert t-shirt. Pricey as such things are apt to be I wasn’t going to get one. Then I realized how dumb I was being. Did I love this artist? Yes. Was I ever going to see another of his concerts? Probably not. Would having that shirt make me smile each and every time I wore it? You bet. So I bought an ‘overpriced’ t-shirt and yes, it does make me happy when I wear it. I remember a night of fun and good music. Other fans stop and chat with me. My world is a little bit bigger. The garden. Who was I to try and make a garden? Me, Black Thumb Magilla the Plant Killa. Yet, who was I hurting if I gave gardening another try? So what if some of the plants didn’t do well? It’s for darn sure I’d never get any better at growing stuff if I didn’t try. I AM getting better, but that’s not the point. My messy little garden plots make me happy. It’s fun to muck around with dirt. It’s fun to use tools. To stick stuff in the ground is satisfying. My kids are encouraged to go for it too. Wolf loves to dance. Lucky child, he has no self-consciousness. While we wait for the movie to start I let him dance in the aisle. He hops and spins and struts. Grooving to Loew’s Radio oblivious to the pinched faces and scadalized stares of the other patrons. Time enough to sit still during the show, why shouldn’t my boy dance if he wants to? He loves it and he’s not disturbing anyone. Well, he disturbs the peace of mind of those who think dancing must be done on an official dance floor. Too bad for them, eh? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Been trying to finish this for 2 hours. The gist is gone. I have no pithy summation. My passion for writing is something my family cannot comprehend therefore the time and quiet I need to hear those things in my head and set them in type is beyond their ability to provide. They’ve been barging through my office every 3 minutes or so. Guess I’ll hang it up and go vacuum. I’ll get all the privacy I want for sure. I start cleaning and they disappear like smoke. Anyhow. Buy the shirt. Take up the paint brush. Dance in the aisle. Why the hell not? Happy Father’s Day, ~LA
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