I remember telling my old boss, years ago, my plan for vacation. “Well,” I started, “I think we’ll be getting in the car and taking a right on the freeway. After that? I have no idea.” He was surprised at this. “No lists? No plans? YOU?” I was just as shocked that he’d expect me to actually plan until I realized I’ve nicely compartmentalized my life in such a way I can live in two extremes: The To Do List and The Not.
Now I worry less that I’m some sort of bi-polar schizophrenic and more of a well-balanced human being. To be successful at work and organized enough to accomplish the tasks at hand, I’m willing to place my items in neat little boxes. Tiny little boxes all sitting in a row. But at home, in my own space, in my own self, I refuse. I want passion, adventure, and not a single task on my todo list to mark off.
God he is slow. Why is he going so slow? He is old. He can not drive well, as indicated by the dangling Handicap sign from his rear view mirror. This should be a clue to me to back off. He is trying. He is my elder. But he is making me late to Yoga.
And ohmygod I can not miss Yoga. Not today. Not today.
One of my favorite parts about having children is that sayings you haven’t heard since 1982 become part of daily life again. “You know what? Chicken Butt.” Kids either keep you young or toss you right back in time to create a very large, somewhat over weight ten year old. It’s awesome.
I picture you taunting me as I write this post. “Leslie and Yoga sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage…” Or else you’re just poking your eyes out, “STOP WITH THE YOGA DEAR GOD STOP”
I recently posted a photo. The title was, “Such a thin, small window separates us. Literally and Figuratively.” I watched the homeless man wander on the sidewalk as I sipped a latte. I looked for him later to give him a few dollars but he had already left by the time I stepped out to find him.
I wasn’t going to post this essay by my German Hostess. It’s not only an unpopular opinion, it goes against my own beliefs as a mother who strives daily to HAVE IT ALL. I have cake! I EAT IT TOO. Then I work off the cake in a wave of guilt and promise to not eat the cake again only to fail the following day.
Are we still talking about cake? I forgot.