Surrender Your Booty

This appears to be fake. WXYZ is a station in Detroit. An internet search doesn’t bring up anything but social media sites.

It’s important to have a retirement plan.  The statistics reveal that many people, especially men, die within a few years of retirement.  The key, they say, is to be active and have hobbies that you enjoy. 

I don’t think I will have any problem with that, but I do worry about being physically active since my hobby – my avocation – is writing.  The older I get, the harder it is to be mobile for any length of time, so I need to nip this in the bud.

I’m not really an exercise kind of chick aside from yoga.  And yes, I will quickly enroll in a yoga class once I’m fully retired.  But I don’t think that’s going to be enough.

So, perhaps you can imagine my delight when I ran across the (fake) news story of a Florida woman who dressed as a pirate, complete with an eye patch, drove to the mall, dropped a kayak into the fountain, got in the kayak, and hollered “Ahoy me maties” and “Surrender your booty” at passing shoppers. 

Now, first of all, carrying that kayak from the car to the fountain was a good workout.  And if you’ve ever been in a kayak, you know that just getting into one isn’t all that easy either.  And then to row while entertaining a growing crowd? Now that’s a workout. 

The arrest part is unfortunate, but perhaps one could get a permit or such?  It would add so much pizazz to the boring Silver Sneakers workout.  And that doesn’t even factor in the exercise of shopping for pirate costumes and accoutrements. 

The tri-state area has several fountains.  There’s one at Ritter Park and, of course, the one at Marshall, but it would be gauche to do such a thing at a memorial.  Of course, the mall has one or did.  I haven’t been in the mall for years.  There’s one at Pullman Square, I think. The Civic Center may have one.  And that doesn’t even count the surrounding towns.  I would stay busy both performing in the fountains and searching for new fountains. 

I could also branch out into rivers and creeks.  I think performing on the Ohio River at Picnic with the Pops would add an extra layer of entertainment for the participants.  And there’s that manmade lake at Barboursville Park.  Four Pole Creek meanders through Ritter Park, which hosts all sorts of events that could be improved with a pirate ac

After a certain amount of time, I could recruit for a crew.  Just think.  An armada of kayaks bearing old women in pirate costumes!  Who could have imagined I’d reach fame in my senior years?

I think it’s a plan.

An interlude of tranquility

Just one interlude of tranquility, please.

This instant! 

Is it somehow cognitive dissonance to demand an interlude much less an interlude of tranquility to manifest out of thin air?  I think so. 

Tranquility, I think, grows slowly.  It is not rushed, demanded, or ordered about.  It is a rock hosting moss – the green coating develops slowly and requires one to be still. 

Tranquility can be – is – precarious.  For most of us, it can be destroyed in an instant.  Soft falling snow on a peaceful landscape turns into a tree crashing through one’s roof.  Or frozen pipes burst.  Or the power goes out. The quiet happiness of home and hearth is destroyed in an instant.

To disassociate so rapidly from tranquility, deep and quiet and blissful, to stress.  To disaster.  To mayhem.  Is perilous

and

dangerous and damaging. 

A disaster of its own.

Modern life is not adapted for this.

The natural biological response for these incidents is for the primitive brain – the one we aren’t allowed to operate with in this the first quarter of the first century of the latest millennium – to take control. Due to this, because of this, as a direct result of this, our bodies and our brains are flooded with the chemicals that depend on fight, flight, or freeze, and we are allowed to do none of those and be deemed to be good people, good parents, good employees, good anything.

And they certainly do nothing to help us with the situation at hand.

But there we are — swimming (treading water or maybe drowning) in the toxic miasma of an old response inadequate to the disaster at hand.  And so we need an interlude of tranquility to reset and restore, which now feels like an impossibility. 

I can demand satisfaction.

Challenge the fates to a duel.

Rail against an unjust universe. 

Or I can sit quietly here with my right hand on my heart and my left hand petting the small, rhythmic breathing bundle of unconditional love known as Emmylou-the-Dachshund and wait for the moss to grow while I meditate on all the good things still available to me.

You deserve a more tender tomorrow.

You deserve a more tender tomorrow, the Universe said.

“I do,” myself replied.  I went on to say, “Life has been hard and a bit dreary these past few months.  Tender would be good.  Did you have something in mind?”

The Universe said, “No.  Quite the opposite.  Tomorrow the weather is going to reenact the Wizard of Oz and then I might dump snow on you.  Haven’t decided yet.”

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

“If you must bring snow, please bring between 12 and 20 inches.  Please.  Anything less is just a nuisance as folks expect me to maintain my normal activities if we are anything short of shut down.”

“Nah, I’m thinking an inch or two.  Just enough to snarl morning traffic on Wednesday.”

“Why are you in such a cantankerous mood?  This really has gone on too long you know. Since about August you have just been downright ugly to me.  Fortunately, I have a good support system and I’m not in a fetal position, but this is really getting old. 

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Bubble Baths

I am addicted to pleasure.  I am a full-blown hedonist and I make no apology for it.  Indeed, I celebrate and encourage this aspect of my personality.  My favorite word is AND.  Go big or go home.  Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.  Etc. I have many mottos that at heart just mean I am into the good stuff. 

Photo by Cristian Palmer on Unsplash

And good stuff does not necessarily mean expensive stuff.  For instance, this morning I had a bubble bath. A long, luxurious one with a fine hand-milled oatmeal soap scented with vanilla.  I smell like a warm cookie on this very cold morning.   

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