Tiny Slips of Paper

“Hang on, my checkbook must be in here somewhere,” I told the thickly accented lady on the phone as I dug with one hand through an accumulation of tiny slips of paper.  It never ceases to amaze me how quickly I am able to collect the debris of life inside my purse or how long I am willing to carry it around with me everywhere I go.  When I hung up the phone, I weighed my bag in my hand and became aware of how heavy it had become. 

“That’s it!  I can’t take it anymore,” I told my two year old as he popped another grape in his mouth, perched on a barstool at the kitchen island. 

“That’s it,” he repeated, laughing. 

As I dug into my cleaning project I pulled out handfuls of receipts, grocery lists, to do lists, coupons, business cards, bills, prescriptions, and advertisements, then piled them all on the counter before me.  It was then that I realized, my life could be summed up by these tiny slips of paper.  Where I’ve been, what I’ve bought, what I need to do, what I worry about, it was all there in print in a crumpled pile of paper.   

Which leads me to my question of the day:  Are we living our lives in large murals or on tiny slips of paper?

Life gets distracting, or should I say the necessary paying of bills, going to doctor appointments, going to the grocery store, taking the kids to school, and getting work done part of life gets distracting.  And, it is all too easy to get caught up in the day to day minutia of life and forget to live.  I think life should be about family and friends, sunshine on your face and wind in your hair, laughter and silliness, and enjoying the beauty of the world around us.  As I put away all of life’s litter and prepared my purse to receive more tomorrow, I made a vow to live in large murals.  I will never get back this afternoon I spent with my little boy building towers and eating cookies, for this afternoon only happens once.  I will give my family hugs and tell them how much I love them.  I will make time to go for a walk.  I will call an old friend and laugh at something she says.  I will take a chance and be scared over the outcome.  I will go to a party where I don’t know anyone and have the time of my life.  I will try a new hobby, a new food, and a new style of shoes.  I will finish writing my manuscript!

We only have this one chance to live today to the fullest.  Don’t cheat yourself out of the good stuff in life by living your life within the confines of your tiny slips of paper.  What are your large murals?

Invest In Thicker Curtains

My house sits on a quiet cul-de-sac in a neighborhood where the trees are still young and children are everywhere.  Because there are so many families here, we get hundreds of trick-or-treaters every October 31^st.  Last year we didn’t even have time to come inside between groups of children, and ended up leaning against the car with a giant bowl of candy.  So, this year I turned our problem into a party and hosted the first annual Halloween tailgate in my driveway.  We pulled out tables and chairs and I spent most of the day cooking and baking and baking and cooking.  It was shaping up to be an entertaining evening with the neighbors.  But I had no idea at the time just how entertaining it would become.

“Daddy went to the store to buy us fire,” my little 2 year old said, as he popped another piece of candy in his mouth.

Mr. Alpha Male had actually gone up to the Lowes with our next door neighbor to buy a fire pit because we were all freezing.  But, he got it right enough for a 2 year old, so I agreed.  And, soon the men were back from their manly errand, the fire pit was set up, and we were warming our fingers and toes, while the scent of wood smoke filled the cool night air.  It was the middle of the third bottle of wine and well after the children had collectively crashed from their sugar rushes and been tucked into bed.  Baby monitors and wine bottles covered the nearby table as the parents took a break at the end of a long day.  I had just taken a bite of warm buffalo chicken dip and was crunching the last of the chip left in my hand when I happened to look up and see something through the window of the house just around the bend from ours.  I took another sip of wine and wondered if I had already had too much and my imagination was running away with me.  The conversation and laughter continued to swirl around me, but I wasn’t listening to it anymore.  I had just seen my most prudish of neighbors, the ones that hardly ever leave the church and never socialize with the rest of us heathens, in the middle of a sexual act.  What sexual act?  Details, give us details, you may be screaming at your computer screen right now.  Well, since you asked…

The thin film of the living room window sheers hid nothing as she took him fully in her mouth; the silhouette of her head sliding up and down his shaft, as she moved with slow deliberate action.  He tensed then reached for her, clearly needing to feel connected to her, to the moment.  The living room light behind them illuminated their every movement as he ran his hands through her long hair, gripping, pulling.  Her pace increased and so did the size of my eyes; I elbowed my next door neighbor and quickly all conversation around the fire pit died as everyone turned and watched.  They readjusted their position and she straddled him.  His hands skimmed the outsides of her breasts as he ran them down to hold her waist and guide her into a wild rhythm of heart beats.  It was the rhythm of passion, the rhythm of sin.  They clung to one another as they reached for that peak just out of grasp.  She arched her back as he thrust into her once, twice, then she collapsed on him in a tangle of spent lust and satisfaction.  They left the room together and their house grew dark for the night.  

“Do you think he’ll come outside for a cigarette,” Mr. Alpha Male asked me.  Our Halloween tailgate party continued on into the early morning, but the evening’s unexpected entertainment was obviously over. 

Will I ever be able to say hello to my neighbor with a straight face again?