When Life Hands You a Car Door, Make Small Stones

This is a multimedia presentation. Please play this song in the background while you read.

I am not exactly clumsy, sometimes I just do random bits of inadvertent violence to my body.

Yesterday when I picked the monkeys up from school, I was looking at a tree and opened the car door - full force - directly into my face.

Just imagine a car door and the tree and a loud, squishy
"ka-thonk" noise.

 This is not the first time I have done this. I did not cry or swear or scream. I just checked for blood and then told the monkeys to fasten their seat belts.

Note the points of impact.

I was not dripping blood and I did not break my glasses, which protected my eye from being unceremoniously removed with the corner of the door.

(That is not my mustache)
It would have taken forever to replace my glasses
 and then I would have had to wear my sunglasses
around all the time. 

Which, now that I think about it, would have its advantages.

Behold the awesomeness of prescription sunglasses.
That is not my mustache. It is a trick of the light.
IT IS A SHADOW, I TELL YOU!

So, my face hurts to smile today and I may end up with a few more distinguishing characteristics on my mug when all is said and done. I had to practice laughing with a limp face last night (try it, try it now) and that made me laugh even harder.  I woke up this morning with a renewed sense of purpose and euphoric relief to be alive after my eye-wear's brush with untimely death. I have recommitted to appreciating the small, yet important things in life.

I still have my rugged good looks:

Do not be jealous.
Shaun Cassidy hair just comes naturally to some folks.

I've got my sanity. A positive attitude can go a long way. It is important to get all of your chins and a thumb involved, if possible.

This is what winning looks like:
grinning maniacally at your YouCam because you can,
even though it hurts your broken face like nobody's business.

And this guy. He just keeps turning up as I'm trying to write this post, so I'll let him stay.

"I smile coyly at you, Earthlings. Love me. Accept me.
Make me your leader."

Thursday, November 1st is Mindful Writing Day. Mark your calendars. It is to celebrate the launch of A Blackbird Sings, an anthology of small stones that are all about magnifying and celebrating the little things in life... even when they are completely absurd.

Low Budget Performance Art

The Hooligan, my quiet and contemplative child, has been talking pretty much non-stop since about 11:35 this morning. The jBird, my chatty one, has been curled up reading a book quietly since about the same time.
It's like some sort of Dada performance art piece: I enjoy it, I'm confused by it, and it's giving me a bit of a headache. My maternal instinct fears this inversion of personalities precedes a physical illness, but in the meantime...

The Hooligan, I do believe, has used up all of the words in the house for the day.

Wishing you all peace and love and creative juices and a restful weekend.

Closing Night Interview with a Performance Artist

It is the closing night of the performance art piece that has been showing in my front yard the last few weeks. It's a poignant piece called Pots of Dead Things: An Exploration of the Existential Conflict of Squirrels vs. Zucchini and Why Dahlias Do Not Make Good Toys. I caught up with some of the players just as they were wrapping up.

Me: So, last performance, huh? How are you feeling about that?
Zucchini Plant: Well, there's always a little sadness when things change, but I think we had a brilliant showing and accomplished some of the things we set out to do.
Me: Can you articulate some of those things for our readers?
ZP: There were a lot of people who, when we first started this project in June, were doubtful of the outcome. I think we proved that you can, indeed, grow zucchini in pots. We also got to work with some great kids this year who really poured their hearts into watching this piece unfold. From the very beginning when we were just a seed of an idea, they were there to nurture us along, to help us see this thing through. I like to think we helped them learn some things along the way.
Me: What sort of things?
ZP: Patience, primarily. And, you know, that exhilaration of watching something spring to life and transform. [chuckles quietly] Also that they don't like to eat zucchini very much.
Me: Was this problematic for the performance?
ZP: Nah, it's all good. We fed some hungry squirrels. Cycle of life, man, cycle of life. There are so many things that can get you down in today's world. It's great to have been a part of something that encourages discovery. It's good to know that plants just keep growing, the seasons keep turning. Ahem. [clears throat and takes a moment]
Me: Any words of advice to your successors?
ZP: Sure. They're young and pretty now, but they have a hard winter ahead of them. They're working with some great people, though, and I hear they're hardy, so they should be OK.

Dahlia's neck was broken and was unavailable for comment. Both she and Zucchini Plant will be retiring to Compost Bin later today. We're excited to announce that a brand new performance Mum's The Word will be debuting this fall, weather permitting.