Because I Don’t Own A Foghorn

A week ago, I was here…

And it was fourteen ways of beautiful and 6.3 ways of cold. I had a bowl of clam chowder alone and I stared at the clouds out the window. I listened to the sound of voices in a crowded chowder joint, disjointed and rushing, like the waves outside.
The person next to me was complaining to their companion about the chowder, which was delicious and famous: famously delicious. They were upset because they didn’t have enough seafood topping on their bowl.
I dipped my sourdough and dredged it with clam and cream and decided that I wanted to be a person who loves everything.
You know the type?
They are the best people to hang out with. They have so much fun because everything is wonderful and lovely and hearts and flowers. They kiss you a million ways just for handing them a sandwich. They don’t complain about the not-so-perfect.
I could focus on the skimpy seafood topping of life or I could focus on the weather, the wave, the seafood delights.
Easy Peasy.
Then…
Last night a house a few doors down had a party…and I had a head cold.
I went to bed at 8-ish, ready to snooze for as LONG AS I WANTED because my husband had offered to get up with the kids. The boys think 6 a.m. is late, because the birds are already up and about.
Darn you birds! Keep it down!
I am not a morning person.
Anyway, at 8:45 P.M. I stumbled into the living room to file a formal complaint about the Partay next door. I said the music was loud, the people were screaming, and for goodness sakes let’s call the police and shut the joint down.
Oh, OH! I forgot to mention the goat. The goat that lives behind us. The goat that every night, at 9 p.m. goes into a goat-y dissertation on politics and world peace and finally stops bleating at around 11:30.
The party and the goat and the head cold were just…too much. We needed the law.
Derrick gently pointed out that I was acting like a 97 year old version of Scrooge and said there was no way he was calling the police until after midnight.
At 11:45 we both stumbled into the kitchen and looked up the number for the Police. Derrick decided to give the party goers a second chance, because surely they would be done by one. He was full of mercy, I was…not.
They finished their festivities at 5 A.M! You know when you’re annoyed but you’re too half-asleep to do anything about it? That was us.
The kids woke up at 6.
I thought about driving by the party house with a fog horn and screaming “RISE AND SHINE”out the window, seeing that they had settled down with the rising sun like a pack of whooping bats.
Instead, I got ready for church, partially because I was trying to be a good Christian and let vengeance slip through my fingers, and mostly because I don’t own a fog horn.
I remembered my clam-chowder-vow to love everything.
Having a good perspective takes hard work sometimes. It takes remembering what is good and forgetting what is…not. I hope to get to the place where even the “not” stuff makes me grateful.
For now, here’s what gets me through when the bats and goats are out in full swing:
– Dirty bare boy feet and bright red hubcaps
– kids covered in a fine layer of spaghetti sauce and dust
– bath time with extra bubbles and lots of plastic watering cans
-story time with “What’s that?” interruptions
– baby steps in footsie pajamas
– Great Grandma kisses
– friends who lend you paintbrushes when yours are in a box
– friends who stop by and bring a soda with ice from the fountain, just because they know you love it.
-calamine lotion
-flyswatters (should I say “flies”? Probably, but I’m not there yet)
-Pumpkins…FREE pumpkins
– babies who like to play with dirt and leaves: FREE TOYS!
– grocery trips and fresh broccoli
– cats. I love cats. I do not have a cat. (wait, that sounded like a complaint…it was more of a dream though, so I’ll leave it)
– a good read
– juice
– dental floss
– presents for no reason. Surprise! You made me a feather headband! Sweet! (No, Q you may not wear it. It is not for you, you are not going to pretend you are an Indian on Peter Pan.)
That’s my list for this week. I will be working on my perspective. I will be counting my joy and adding up my gifts and multiplying my blessings and dividing it all with an “and”, which is my favorite conjunction…which reminds me of my final “gratitude” for this week:
-the word “and”, which I use to stack my thoughts like pancakes, all into one nice sentence.
255-274 of my Gratitude List. Click on the link below to see what other people are grateful for, or start your own!
holy experience

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