Happiness is a dirty smiling face

In response to today’s prompt question, this is what happiness means to me:

???????????????????????????????They say the first thing that pops into your head is usually the correct answer and this was it.             Happiness is a dirty smiling face.

One of the many adventures Goose and I have had together, destination: Aruba. The endeavor that was in store for us on this particular day involved several broken down ATVs, a swim in the Natural Pool, stepping on a sea urchin (and therefore having them stick 4 inches out of her foot), and the guide forgetting his wallet at the beach and having to wait until dusk until he arrived back to guide us to the garage. Although Goose was in pain from the sea urchin, she didn’t complain, still drove the ATV back, and then dealt with the ER wait and doctor’s remedy of, ‘sorry there is nothing we can do, it has to work itself out’….

Yup she is a trooper, amazing, my daughter, my Goose, and my travel partner until the end.

Happiness is indeed a dirty smiling face….through the good times and bad….love you more

 

The thought of Ireland haunts me

I was inspired today by Lisa at Sunshine Travels and the daily post, to write about that one place I would love to go before it is too late. That place for me is Ireland. I can’t explain why. All of these years when the name ‘Ireland’ gets mentioned there is a sadness in my heart, a deep sadness inside that feels like… like I miss home and I can’t go back.

I envision it to be a very simple romantic place. The mist along the hundred-shades-of-green rolling hills, the smell of peat that lingers in your mind like your favorite men’s cologne, being surrounded by ghosts of a thousand years past, singing sad songs while having a pint in the local pub, and of course… the far off wail of the forlorn pipes….that is how I see Ireland. Maybe I have just seen too many movies…maybe it will not live up to my dreams, but there is only one way to find out.

ireland

(image: NationalGeographic.com)

Reposted in answer to the daily prompt: Tourist Trap, What’s your dream tourist destination — either a place you’ve been and loved, or a place you’d love to visit? What about it speaks to you?

Love is in the air and in your soul

loveheart“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” – Judy Garland

After all it is Valentine’s Day so why not throw a little love out there. Even if you are not in a relationship at the moment, some point in your life you probably could relate to what Ms. Garland had to say.

That moment…that fleeting moment of a whisper or kiss truly does stir in your core and not even Father Time can erase that feeling. All you have to do is close your eyes and it comes flooding back to you, it may even propel you into another dimension (at least it seems that way) it is just that powerful.

There are so many layers to love it cannot be broken down, sorted out, or analyzed.

Maybe that is why it never leaves us, even when our heart is broken, there is still a sliver of it left behind.

 

(picture credit: http://flikie.s3.amazonaws.com/ImageStorage/d8/d86d6070173f46edab259e790120da28.jpg)

Toxic fumes, tetanus shots, and the Big Wheel

While on FB I came across a little dittie that reminded me of the fearless generation from whence I came: the 70’s. If you were born a bit before then, the 70’s were just the right age when the stars aligned and curiosity, fearlessness, and determination joined forces and nothing stopped you.

Kids didn’t use seatbelts, let alone have their own car seat. Your seatbelt was your mom throwing her arm across you to keep you from smashing your tiny flexible skull against the dashboard (which only worked 20% of the time). There were lapbelts but, admit it, pretty lame. And pick-up trucks with an open bed – well now we are talking changing a three-seater into a jamb-as-many-friends-in-the-back-seater! The cargo area of a station wagon? Nope this was actually used as a free for all play pen for the kids. Wrestling, laying down for naps, having a picnic, all while dad tried not to lose his shit driving in beach traffic so you and your brother can eat a sand-wich; literally sandwich filled with sand from your sticky fingers (crunch crunch).

Creepy Crawlers… yes please let me inhale toxic fumes, I didn’t want to ace those bubble tests in third grade anyway. And the plastic glob of goo at the end of the straw that magically turned into a huge balloon? Inhale and residue on my fingers which will inevitably go into my mouth at some point, SCORE! Whoops forgot about the lead paint toys too. Back in the day there was no other way to adhere paint to toys to lead was added and those cute little wooden blocks that were used as a teething device was now dropping the SAT scores by the minute. Ivy League schools are overrated anyway.

Sunscreen was called baby oil back in the day. If you weren’t rocking a golden tan or peeling from a summer’s worth of sunburns you were lame and had the worst summer ever. And if you dared show up with Noxema on your nose to lessen the pain, you got your shoulders slapped to remind you of your burn there as well…. good times.

Games: lawn darts were made of razor sharp blades about 6 inches long and you tossed them 10 yards back and forth at one another with the hopes it will land in the  hoolahoop on the ground for points. The company had to completely revamp its design with soft edges because people where getting hurt. Who got hurt with this game? Fess up!  You have to be kidding.  You didn’t know that when that 6 inch blade came even remotely in your direction that you wouldn’t move out of the way?! That was part of the fun – playing chicken with a javelin! Way to ruin it for everyone.

Helmets and elbow pads are for losers. Learning to ride a bike, roller skate (and later on a skateboard) takes balance. If you don’t get hurt falling off, the learning process takes so much longer. Plus the scars are really cool. Who didn’t ride on the handlebars or on the seat holding on to the driver’s butt (which was in your face and hoping he was a real friend and wasn’t going to blast you with a fart) as balance?  There was nowhere to put your feet so your legs dangled and your friend had a bike and you had to walk like a dork so ride-sharing was the norm. Plus there is plenty of room for two on a one-seater, you just have to be creative.

Toss in the Big Wheel (and for you Evil Kineval types the wooden jump plank leaning on a concrete block) and now we are talking some adrenalin. Your friend Sully did it yesterday and you will be damned if he is going to show off that scab alone. Determination supersedes wisdom when you are young.

The adventurous play ground. The days of climbing up inside the ‘metal rocket’ with all its sharp edges, uncovered steel screw tops and nails exposed made for tetanus shots only a doctor’s office can dream of. Don’t forget the 200 degree metal slide against the back of your legs; it’s a beautiful day and that slide has been just soaking in the sunshine for several hours – go metal burn yes! But it didn’t stop you, you shook it off and kept going back up anyway because it was fun.

The special hideaway. Either you had one or your best friend did. It was in a tree house, sitting on a tree limb 20 feet high, under the porch, in a leanto, just some secret place for you to escape the tyranny of your parents or the unbridled beatings of your older siblings. Hiding away for hours was the norm; the police were not called if you were an hour late for supper, you just got grounded. And not the ‘fun’ grounded these kids have these days… TV, xbox, cell phone, all in the room to keep you entertained? Unheard of…you had the old school, sit in your room and stare out of the window at all your friends having fun playing tag or hide and seek while you were missing it. Lesson learned.

There are of course many more… the drinking from a hose and not bottled water, your baseball team losing and not getting the pizza party because “you tried really hard”, the walking to school (in the blizzard uphill both ways) because there weren’t school buses and your family only had one car that dad took to work….

It goes on and on and it was fun. It was a great generation and we learned so much. Please share any ‘good times’ that I may have overlooked.

Artsy-fartsy I am not

birchtrees

I have never been able to comfortably embrace my artistic side; plain and simply I have none.

My mother was a brilliant artist in the true sense of the word. She could dance, sing (although she more often than not forgot the words which was always the joke between the family), played the piano (self taught), and kicked butt playing tennis against any single or doubles team that dare take her on… but her piece de résistance would easily be her painting. Pastels, charcoal, and rice paper, nothing caused a bump in her ability to capture the moment. Some day I will post her painting to share with the world and have her legacy live on forever but right now this is about me….

I am the last in the line of boys, and being the only other female in the family, her immense talent is a lot to aspire to. There should be some mom-daughter connection no?

Early on I learned I did not have the talent, nor did I have the patience. I have all of my father’s analytical genes (and also am my own worst critic). The highly organized (put it back where you found it and how you found it so you can find it again next time), the strict control of time (we don’t have time to stop we have a schedule to keep) and the deductive reasoning (if its not the air filter, the sparks or the timing, it is probably a gunky gas filter)… all very useful and practical in the world so I am not knocking it.

So why is it I still strive to be artsy-fartsy like my mom? I have taken to using a Groupon for ‘fun’ artistic afternoons with my daughter and do something different (none of this bowling or mini golf crap). The use of quotation in the word -fun- is there because I typically stress out more trying to complete the task rather than enjoy it’s process. Don’t get me wrong, it does not take away from the time spent with my daughter. We still laugh and crack jokes even if we are the only ones laughing, but the pressure to make it perfect, to get what I see in my head out through my hands, is close to impossible and extremely-extremely frustrating (did I mention it is extreme?!)

So the birch trees you see are another attempt at my striving to bond with my mother.  After all, don’t we secretly wish that our children will take something special from us and pass it along to future generations? Maybe that is it; I disappointed her in that sense and am still striving to keep a piece of her alive while failing miserably. (Hmm Fraud where are you now?)

I am sure it will not be the last time but sooner or later I will get the hint; I am just not artsy-fartsy.

What is all this honking about!!

geese
It has been said that geese honk while in their formation to encourage the lead goose, for it is that one goose that bears the brunt of the work. What work – just flying is work in itself! The point goose is breaking the air surface and thereby spreading the air current outward. Each goose after the point goose has a lesser degree of air surface to break and makes it a bit easier for them to maintain flight. When the lead goose gets tired he falls to the back of the formation and another goose steps up (or flies up at the case may be). That’s what all the honking is about – working as a team, cheering each other on, sharing the work for the better of the group.

There is so much to learn from such a simple gesture. It goes beyond teamwork and beyond encouragement and it is all natural. They ‘get it’. There is nothing selfish or mean spirited in their quest to get from point A to point B. They don’t secretly wish for one of their feathered mates to fall from the sky so they can get a good laugh from it. They are just honestly praising the hard work and perseverance they are experiencing. What a great concept!

For me, listening to the geese is so self-indulgent I almost feel badly; they bring such a smile to my face while they are working so hard to stay aloft. HONK HONK

Just.Let.Go.

You never really know what you are made of until you are faced with the challenges and choices you fear.

When faced with life altering choices do you play it safe or look at it as an opportunity for more and chance it – let the ‘gods’ play with you (as it were) as if you were a chess piece in the game of life?

Am I being face with such an ordeal because I have had it too easy, too content, for too long and now life plans to give me a taste of what others have to deal with on a daily basis or is it a turn of events-the next new path to exploring and growing?

I read a book many years ago, it was called, The Reluctant Messiah (great read). In simple terms, it says to just let go… stop fighting the stream’s current, be the blade of grass that stops clinging to the rock, and let the flow of water and energy take you for the ride of your life.

Much easier said than done… or is it? When is it time to just let go? When do we have enough faith in ourselves that we will be happy no matter what comes into our lives?

I am currently faced with the proverbial fork in the road and can’t decide. Clinging to the rock is comfortable; I know where I stand, I know what is coming from upstream and how to handle it. At the same time it is exhausting to continue holding on so tightly and not let myself be tossed around against the stream’s rocks, logs, and occasional slimy frog.

When? When will I know it is time to ‘just.let.go.’ ?

Knighted TeddyBear

I was surrounded by imaginary friends, well to clarify, all of my stuffed animals were my saviors.

They would not save me just from monsters in my room, in the closet, under the bed, in my dreams, but the tree whose branch would tap on my window throughout the night, the shadows guarding the bathroom during the midnight pee run, or the spiders that would try to find a home in the crack in the wall.

They put up with the obligatory tea party, the trip to the imaginary doctor getting the crayon shot what wouldn’t wash off, and the tears and snot from being tortured by an older brother; all without complaint.

The word ‘friend’ is an understatement; they were my family.

teddy bear

If you know who I can credit for this image, please let me know, it captured my heart.

http://www.deviantart.com/print/681483/ print above is by Begemott (thank you loupmojo)

Daily post question:Many of us had imaginary friends as young children. If your imaginary friend grew up alongside you, what would his/her/its life be like today? (Didn’t have one? write about a non-imaginary friend you haven’t seen since childhood.)