Routine

”….I don’t want to rob banks for the rest of my life.” —— Billy Bob Thornton~~Bandits

Routine……….now there’s a good concept, and in truth it’s not all that far removed from normal.  If you are unable to achieve “normal”, then routine could indeed be something to strive for.  You’re thinking you have a plan that can carry you through the day, and that you are probably in pretty good shape—and this may be the case, as long as something doesn’t happen to upset it.   You can be perking right along enjoying your usual life and not even realize what a great job you are doing on your daily “routine”, when WHAM somebody or something comes along and throws a monkey-wrench into your system and brings everything to a screeching halt.

It doesn’t matter that you  have been just as happy as that proverbial clam and minding your own business, because the beings that exercise the real power over these activities have very little shame.  “They” show no remorse, and even less compassion when it comes to the people who are unwittingly pursuing what (to most) would be thought of as a routine, possibly uneventful day.

If you ask me, the gods (or demons, as the case may be) of “normal” and “routine” apparently relish conspiring to disrupt the very acts for which they are responsible.  They might be feeling taken for granted or like they’re being ignored or something, but it’s as if the interruption is their means of reminding you just how very good you do indeed, have it.  Some of us recover from these interruptions more easily than others and are able to comfortably slide back into our happy little routines without missing more than a beat or two, however there are those of us who find it extremely difficult to get things back on an even keel.  In fact, sometimes it ends up being necessary to complete the circle in order to get there.

I firmly believe that there are those who not only take some kind of perverse pleasure in this inconvenience, but also feel the need to spread the misery around and foist their woes upon any innocent bystanders who are close at hand.  Having things turned upside down simply seems to be a way of life for some people.  It is as if these types of people most likely wouldn’t know what to do with a “routine” day if they had one, much less understand what an envied position they  truly occupy.  Having things go too smoothly can put some so far out of their comfort zone that they are absolutely compelled to foul things up as quickly as possible in order to get back to their own version of life as they know it, wreaking havoc on anything that gets in their way while they obliviously go about their madness……..and THAT is their routine!

As for me, I get up early, pour some coffee, and water the yard I’ve been trying to revive before the day gets too hot.  Then I decide what I want or ought to do.  Sound boring, does it?  I guess it could be considered to be so, but since I really don’t have any choice in the matter right now…….I prefer to think of it as more like doing “stand-up”, and make what I can out of it.

It looks like there must be a hummingbird convention in town, and boy–are they a tough crowd to please…….A bunch of heavy drinkers, those hummers.  There are a few regulars–Englebert, Dinger, Afewbars, and Vee–and they all seem to think it’s okay to invite any number of friends to this watering-hole.  A veritable Open House Party, as it were.   “The more, the merrier” I guess.  It’s looking like I ought to add to my regular supply if this keeps up……..I’d probably better put out  a couple-a more wells for the greedy little bastards if I expect to keep the peace.  I wonder how this’ll look on my resume when the docs finally set me free?  Probably better than robbing banks would…………

Yup–all things considered,I kinda like my routine…..after all, somebody‘s gotta do it !!    ;]

Bad Blogger

“I’m not bad……..I’m just drawn that way.”   —-Jessica Rabbit

I may be new to this whole blogging thing, but I’ve lurked around long enough to know that I’m not very good at this yet.  I am a bad blogger!  It obviously has something to do with time-management skills, or lack thereof as the case may be.  This is something that I have struggled with my entire life and in spite of the fact that I recognize this problem, I have never managed to overcome it well enough to incorporate a system into my life that I would actually embrace, much less implement. For whatever reason, I have always functioned far better when I start feeling the pressure of a deadline closing in on me, looming large behind the shadow of a ticking clock.  Even when I have days, or even weeks to get something done, I find it much easier to find other things to occupy myself with whilst I put off the inevitable until the very last minute.

One of the factors I guess I refer to on the “Gotta Do” scale is whether or not somebody else is depending on me to get things done…..it is then that tasks seem to get moved up on the scale of importance because (gulp) I’m being relied upon by an outside party, and—well—that’s  just different!  At this point in my life, I feel like I have all the time in the world to get things accomplished and for anyone (like myself) who may be afflicted with such a condition, this can be a very dangerous and highly counter-productive luxury.

I probably need to set a timer for sitting down to write a post on a regular basis—yup!  It sounds like a good idea, so I’ll just jot this down on my list and carry it around for a while……See how it feels……. “Yeah, that’s the ticket!!” (to quote a John Lovitz character from SNL of days past).

THE brother with whom I share a similarly warped sense of humor (yet another genetic  anomaly) called yesterday to say how he’d enjoyed the nice things I’d said about my our mother in my last post.  ?!?  I had to go back and read it this morning because:  a) it had been so long since I’ve visited with y’all and “ode-ing” her had not been my intent at the time, and b)  today is Mother’s Day and I’ve decided to share a bit more of the “magic” that was my mother without (hopefully) repeating myself.

If I could only use one word to accurately describe my mom it would have to be a “hoot”.  She was many things, but above all she was one of the inherently (though not necessarily overtly) funniest people anyone could have the good fortune to come across—and I mean both “ha-ha” and “strange”.

When I was a child I was a bit embarrassed and confused that my folks were about the same age as most of my friends’ grand-parents.  Fortunately for me I got over it for the most part at a fairly young age.  I clearly remember one day when I was about six years old, we were shopping for school clothes and a clerk asked her if she and her  grand-daughter were having a fun day out together:  Mother just smiled and pointed out that I was her daughter.  The clerk was obviously a bit flustered and for lack of a better response said, “I’m sorry.”  My mom just gave her a grin and said “Well I’m not!” ( For whatever reason, that particular incident was permanently tattooed in my little brain. )  With a wink in my direction, she took my little hand and we set out on the next leg of our mission……the hat department.  It was a department store ritual we shared–which Daddy was privy to on occasion, but one that (until recently) I hadn’t realized belonged to the two of us.

I really hadn’t thought about it for quite some time, but the other day when I had some time to kill I found myself in the hat department and was reminded of the fits of uncontrolled laughter that we would put ourselves into while trying on hats.  Hysteria, really.  You see, Mother was one of those people who the hat gods had never intended to grace with a piece of their work.  Over the years I’ll bet she tried on thousands of hats in my presence, and I don’t think there was a single one in the bunch that didn’t elicit hilarity to the point that strangers would peer around racks to see what was so funny that an otherwise “respectable” pair of gals were reduced to gleeful piles of goo in the middle of an up-scale clothing store.  Once in a while a late-comer to the spectacle would sympathetically proffer a tissue while probably wondering at the cause of our tears.

Aside from being funny my mother was:  soft-hearted, gracious, brilliant, independent, imaginative, supportive, loving, open-minded, forgiving, always ready to jump in with a helping hand, and wickedly witty—just to name a few.  I miss her every day.

This is but a tip of the iceberg.   I simply had to get this out there in hopes that whoever may come across this will not leave without a smile.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, EVERYBODY!!!

xoxomoí   ;]