To-Do List

I’ve Always Wanted to…Skydive

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

I always wanted to skydive. 

Really.

I had plans to do so with a friend, but dammit all, she had the temerity to get herself killed in a motorcycle accident before we could execute the plan. 

Photo by Mario Gogh on Unsplash

She was quite an inspiration in my life and I was just never able to bring myself to do the skydiving thing without her.  And then in my late 30s, my chiropractor asked me, “Do you ski?” I said No.  And he said, “Good.  Don’t take it up.”  And then I said, “I suppose that means skydiving is out too.” 

The look on his face.  Apparently, he was terrified of flying.  You would have thought I’d suggested he remove a testicle or something.  “Oh, God, no.  No.  No skydiving.”

And so, it’s a want that will forever be unfulfilled and I find myself mourning the loss.  How many other I always wanted tos am I not going to be able to do?

Getting old sucks.

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The April Fool

/ wvfurandroot / 2 Comments

Today, I will be The April Fool and declare a new beginning.  The winter of my discontent is over.  Has to be over.  I am weary of trudging and want to skip. Tired of standing, want to dance.  Sick of worry, want to be fearless.

Today is that day. 

The Fool from the Robin Wood Tarot

I will let the high winds of today clean out the debris and clear my head of the toxic build-up of the past years.  The rains will clear the dust.  Spring cleaning of a sort – more like a pressure wash with the torrents of late.

I will let my little dog frolic as I skip along and ignore her yelps when she warns me of the cliff.  I need to fall off this cliff I’ve been perched on like some hermit sitting on a mountain.  I am the seeker; I am not the teacher.  The sage.  The prophet.

The waterlogged hillside may collapse spilling me onto a road I’ve never been on.  The change might do me good.  Another meaning for winning by a landslide.

I may have to skip through some mud.  My inner child will be delighted to splash in the puddles.  I’ll get dirty.  A hot bath will be a solace.  I will be weary and sleep the sleep of the innocent.  I will.

The future is bright, my outlook is rosy, and I’m determined to make it so.  As it is written, so let it be done.

If Only

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If only what was said could be taken back, I could sleep at night.  Completely taken back as if the words were never uttered, never broke the barrier between thought and vocalization.  If only.

Julien May 29, 2022

If only what was done could be undone, I could move forward.  Completely undone as if the deed never provoked an outcome, a clean slate.  If only.

If only the thought could be lost before it sullied my heart.  Forgotten before it was acknowledged, never to leave its stain of discord on my psyche. If only.

If only, I could be a vehicle for harmony and peace.  Never to sow sadness or anger or criticism.  To be a nurturing soul to all I encounter.  If only.

If only, I could get to the core me, I would be perfect.   Radiating love and hope, a person of perfection in this imperfect world.  If only.

If only, I could return to the beginning.  Without scar or wound. Prejudice and temper, ego unfettered.   If only.

If only I could return to that state of grace of the newborn – one of wonder, content, suckling only love.  If only.

Slippery, slimy, gross, disgusting cold, wet pasta

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I have written before about my dislike of vacuuming.  It’s not just dislike, it’s a visceral hatred that suffuses all of me and makes my hair stand on end.  Inevitably, the machine will clog, the belt will break, and I will end up cursing.  Every time.  Every single time.  For now, and always and forever.  This is true.  I no longer fight it.  I try to roll with the flow.

Photo by Mae Mu on Unsplash

I am also not fond of putting laundry away.  I don’t mind doing laundry so much, but right outside my laundry room door is an 11-foot old oak church pew.  Fresh from the dryer clothes seem to end up there.  And even if I do fold them, they tend to stay there.  I often dress from the church pew in the hallway that is right in front of my windowed kitchen door.  This is flirting with disaster.  I am someday going to flash somebody.

Dusting also annoys me.  I live on a dirt road.  I have 3 dogs.  I have laundry sitting on the church pew.  I have dust.  And it accumulates at warp speed.  I often say I’m running a retirement for dust.  Just as soon as I carry some of it out to the bin, a new crop arrives to take its place.  It’s maddening.  I can wield a can of Pledge for hours and admire my sparkling furniture and shelves, but by the next morning, it looks as if weeks have passed since anything has seen a dust rag.

Suffice it to say there is not much I like in the vein of housecleaning aside from making up a bed with clean linen sheets and a freshly aired duvet.

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