Yeah so, it’s Friday night. A night I typically take a Yoga class then get Vietnamese take-out and call it a day. But tonight, I’m a bit blue and don’t feel much like moving my body. I could of course, take care of chores that wait for me each weekend, like ugly second cousins – they are overlooked, burdensome, and something I don’t want to associate myself with. And besides, how cool is it really to spend a Friday night doing chores?
Well even though trying to be cool was something I may have concerned myself with years ago, it’s still not really cool to waste a Friday night getting chores done. But I’m forcing myself to go grocery shopping so I will have food to eat in the morning.
I could stay home and read my new Yoga Journal magazine, I could repot some of my houseplants, I could cook (if there was food in the kitchen), I could go to the movies, or even shop for the wardrobe I want to have (instead of the safe (plain Jane) clothes I begrudgingly put on my body). But no, I will go to Trader Joe’s.
I’m feeling blue because things are weird with my baby.
I began this blog with the intention to uplift and inspire others (and myself) – and here I am two blogs later – in the dumps. That’s funny.
Speaking of “the dumps” – that was an actual place I played in as a kid. The dumps were an open (ratty looking) field near my childhood home in Queens, New York where we would play. We would actually tell Mom, we were headed outside to play in the dumps!! We probably even spoke in thick New York accents – we little girl beings, so many decades ago.
That seems funny to me now, but also a little disconcerting that we were allowed to play there, with nary a raised eyebrow from any thinking adult. “Yeah kid, go and play but if you cut yourself on some rusty metal scraps, don’t come crying to me!” (No one ever said that, but they might as well have. We were completely on our own. Anything could have happened. No one watched over us).
Feeling blue. Does anyone know where that expression originates from? I don’t. I could google it and insert the derivation here, but that’s too bothersome right now.
Blue. My favorite color besides pink, (I really love pink). Blue. A feeling I don’t enjoy having.
I always liked the title of Miles Davis’ iconic album: Kind of Blue, and then there’s Joni Mitchell’s album: Blue, an album I can listen to – to this day and not get tired of hearing. “River” one of my favorite songs – fits the way I feel tonight.
But instead of painting a lonely hearts club mural on this page, I want to find something (almost anything) inspiring to say – if only to inspire myself.
But nothing comes.
Just to let you in on a secret, shhhhhh, Friday nights at Trader Joe’s are a great time to shop. You have plenty of room to make your way through the aisles, and there’s virtually no wait to get rung up. Who’s shopping? Other uncool people. Couples who are clearly past the wooing phase, Moms and kids, singles just getting done with Yoga class, and me.
I bought $91.84 worth of goods along with a plant and small broom that smells of cinnamon and spice and promises to make my home smell like Fall. As an aside, Houston tries every which way to manifest seasons, and in our consumer minds, if we make the right purchase, we get the chance to pretend we have seasons here.
I’ve always liked the real thing. Real whipped cream instead of Cool Whip. Real people. The really gorgeous colors of autumn leaves, instead of those artificial strands of leaves you can purchase to decorate a mantel or Thanksgiving Dinner table (or to hang yourself with, if need be…joking!).
No, no real inspiration to share with you tonight. Although my baby did call to apologize, and we are working through this weirdness – we can get along perfectly and oh so famously one minute, and then crash into the dark world of our own personal dysfunction the next. What I love about us, is that we are always willing to start again. With a fresh clean slate. With forgiveness and a renewed essence of love between us.
So maybe that is the inspiration I need – no matter how bad things look or feel – as long as you have breath to breathe – you can start over. God is a God of second chances. And there are such things as do-overs in life.