Let’s leave nothing for later…

The funny stuff is here at the beginning. The not so funny stuff gradually builds. The sad kicks in and the feelings start feeling.

#1

Sometimes I wonder about things. Today was such a day. I had a few things. My socks were one of them. Have you sen the socks that have the R and the L stitched on them? Do they think I don’t know my right and left? But more importantly, why the hell would that matter with socks? Does it matter? I don’t think so, but my rule following brain will not let me switch them. I just can’t do it. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t are able to. Crazy, But true, for me. 

#2

The next thing I wondered about was why women do this. I don’t think I have seen men do it, but they might. I just haven’t come across it. Women will post a picture on FB or IG and then go about making their point and then say this: 

Excuse the sweat

Excuse the mess

Excuse the pajama pants

Excuse my 3 day hair

Excuse the no make-up

Excuse the toys all over the place

Excuse my….

Excuse the ….

Why do we say these things. Shame?  Embarrassment? Or just because we feel we need to? I don’t know. I hate how women make excuses for things. Just stop. You don’t need to excuse anything. You showed up for your day. You did the things. You are living your life. Let’s start normalizing those things. It’s part of life. Nobody is perfect and why the hell try? Live without those excuses. Keep showing up! 

#3

A friend from high school I have mentioned before on my blog is struggling hard. In fact, she won’t last long. She is in hospice care. It’s shocking and sad and scary all at the same time. So many things affect so many things. The surface is shiny, but scratch away a little bit and the shine fades. The reality sets in. The truth sets in. The sadness and the struggles. Let peace envelop her. Let the pain subside. May she rest in eternal peace and have a wonderful reunion with her parents. 

#4

Then the final little thoughts popping in and out all day were of my dad. His birthday is coming up and the thoughts keep rushing in. I was in Walmart yesterday, and an older dad, probably around the age of 75 or so and his daughter, in her 50s was helping him. They walked by and I immediately smelled Afta Shave. The aftershave that dad used. The green bottle of smelly smelling aftershave lotion. I thought about him through the rest of shopping trip. This month kicks my butt. It’s been 21 years and it is still hard. 

Ho-hos and Afta Shave

Plaid shirts and summer caps

Silent humor and can’t behave

Snack Wells cookies and steaks on the grill

Intimidating and subtle impacts

Perception and intuition

Knowing it’s near and feeling fulfilled

Saying goodbye and realizing this disposition

 

He would have turned 81 on the 21st. 

Happy Heavenly Birthday Dad 

14 thoughts on “Let’s leave nothing for later…

  1. #1 at the moment I am wearing socks that both say “L”

    #2 Yes, amen to THAT. Though I am sure I fall victim to this again, hopefully I will remember to correct myself in real-time.

    #3 I am sorry about your friend. Thank you for letting us know.

    #4. Sigh. My dad hasn’t been gone nearly as long. Just shy of 6 yrs now. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll forget certain litle poignant things about him; thanks for sharing that after 21 years, they hold strong. ❤

  2. The sock thing so real, lol. I have wondered this for so long too.
    Sorry to hear about your friend Peggie sending prayers.

    1. 1. I must be buying the wrong socks, I’ve never seen this on socks
      2. Never excuse who you are. I think ove rather years this has pissed people off about me actually. Don’t care…
      3. This whole situation is so sad. I feel for her family and wish them all peace.
      4. Whenever I say I’m blessed to stl have my folks I truly truly mean every word. A big hug to your heart.

  3. I love your stories. They hit close to home for me. I struggle with all the loss of friends lately, and of course my son that’s an ache that never goes away. But I keep showing up and try to be the best I can to my friends.

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