“All the diversity, all the charm, and all the beauty of life are made up of light and shade.”
– Leo Tolstoy
I can’t say I’ve been called an easygoing soul. Frustration, irritation, and overwhelming annoyance at rudeness or general incompetence – those emotions used to roll off me in waves, and I wasn’t very good at disguising them.
I was what BrightSide kindly described as overly emotional. Even I recognized (after the insanity passed) that my feelings hovered close to the surface, and it didn’t take much to make them boil over.
I won’t claim those emotions are long gone. It’s just that I’ve learned a little bit about taking a deep breath and counting to ten.
I’m grown, I’m responsible, I’m in charge of important stuff. And yet, it seems, the list of things I Just Can’t Handle continues to grow.
» Dusting my house top to bottom. Why do I hate this? Let me count the ways. The dust makes me sneeze. It returns mere hours after I’ve removed it. God did not give me the patience necessary to dust around knick knacks, picture frames, and books. It involves far too much reaching and bending. Plus no matter how throughly I think I’ve done it, there are always (always!) spots I’ve missed.
It’s 11:00am, and I’m seriously considering making dinner tonight.
This is significant in a number of ways. There are more days than I’d like to admit when putting an evening meal together just isn’t top of my list, and the times when I’ve made it a priority I’ve experienced what one might call a notable lack of positive reinforcement. (Hello there, T-man and Bear.)
If I do manage to think about dinner, it’s usually a semi-panicky revelation right before BrightSide comes home. As in oh crap, it’s 5:30, what on earth are the kids gonna eat?!
“The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”
– Julia Child
A valid point, Ms. Child, and one I’d argue applies to many aspects of life.
Live free, live wild…
Live like there is no failure, only varying degrees of success.
You have to admit, crazy or not, we all do things for love. We step way outside our comfort zone when we’re dating, and the more serious things get the more likely we are to do something strange in the name of amore. Shoot, this nutty instinct still kicks in even after you’ve been together for years.
Sometimes the acts are big, sometimes they’re small…and sometimes they just seem downright bizarre.
‘Cuz, you know…love.
Generations pass through one by one. The Greatest Generation, Baby Boomers, Generation X, the MTV Generation, Generation Y…each one’s characteristics become steadily less flattering as the years progress, eventually evolving into Gen-Y teens and young adults in the world today.
Now we’re looking at a group of kids tentatively labeled Generation Z. Children born after 2000, a group sometimes referred to as Generation ADD due to their inability to concentrate longer than a few seconds on anything. Kind of like gnats, only with bigger feet and appetites.
Now I’m not rocking on the porch, sipping lemonade and longing for the good old days, but there’s some stuff going down with the kids. Stuff that’s gonna come back to bite us in the end. It seems our only option is intervention.
“Al’s father is 45. He is 15 years older than twice Al’s age. How old is Al?”
Let’s say Al’s age = x. We also know that 45 is 15 more than twice Al’s age, so we need to transfer each part into math speak.
Al’s age is x, so twice Al’s age is 2x, and 15 more than twice Al’s age is 15 + 2x.
Oh, finagle. Check it out here if you’re interested.
Here are some of my givens in life, ones of the non-word problem sort.