Category: How-to

This will be for directions on how to (or how to not) do something in whatever topic (cooking, relationships, driving, taking a shower, you name it.)

A “How-To” untouched.

My Maker is like a beautiful but broken marble. Every so often I would forget. I’d take hold of my elaborate-colored marble and I’d want to play with her. I’d hold on tight (with my hands, with my all the strength of my hungry need) to make sure it wouldn’t  slip through my fingers while I ran around the world showing my marble all the things that were almost as beautiful and brilliant as she was. I’d laugh just thinking how happy this would’ve , could’ve , (should’ve?) made my marble! How proud she would be that she was finally being recognized and praised for what she was! I would rejoice. Well, I almost did. I always forgot myself and, alas, would realize in a sudden pang of pain that I had again come close, way too close, looking for warmth. Tried to hold on too tight. Once again, I had forgotten  my marble was broken and its jagged edges had sliced open scars that had almost healed, and fresh new liquid pain poured  down my fingers, down my hands to my elbows; and I’d see how it started to cover my body like a strong rain covers a flower: brutally. Despiadada. Drops like darts to the petals. And like the flower I’d  stand there just accepting the slashes from every falling drop that burned my legs.  The goddamned reminder of a robbed childhood. That blood. All of that shameful reminder of what caused the earth to tremble and my beautiful marble to finally shatter right where the cracks were showing. Now broken. Useless. Dangerous. Still very much needed and wanted.

Marble.

Maker.

Whether she was showing her true colors or sharpening her edges it was a sight to see. I heard it all the time. It just was not the experience from my seat. We were not all watching the channel.

photography:https://www.flickr.com/photos/maggyver/

How to completely fail at carpe diem

1) Wake up several times during the night because you think maybe the alarm didn’t go off.
2) Forget to take your vitamins because, while rinsing out the cup for water, you remembered that you should only do laundry with cold water and by the way… there is a load in the washing machine that needs to dry and you can start another load now!
3) Write down EXACTLY what you need to buy and what has to be done when you leave the house so you only need to go out once.
4) Leave the list home. Somewhere.
5) Run around the supermarket looking like your motto should be “catch me if you can.”
6) Go back home, run into the house and spend and hour looking for the damn list.
7) After the hour is gone, and the list is nowhere to be found, agree to go with your child to practice his driving skills.
8) See the grocery bag in the back of the car just as you are about to enter the car.
9) Exactly at that moment, remember you also bought ice cream.
10) After running back and forth from the car to the refrigerator, flapping your VERY expressive arms like a penguin who wished she could fly, make up your mind to breathe and really enjoy this time with your son. He will be leaving soon to college and these moments are precious.
11) As soon as you hit the passenger seat, chug your VERY LARGE size caffeine drink in one shot and start chatting away like you are back with your bff 30 years ago, woohooing like a groupie while talking about all the things you plan to do now that your life is about to change, one of them being working on your memory because who needs that thing (“whatchamacallit”) that you forgot earlier.
12) Notice that your kid is parking the car, look at the car clock and notice it has been 25 minutes since the practice-drive started and see how your son calmly walks towards the house looking very happy after a job well-done.
Take a minute to realize the day is almost gone, you missed your only child driving like a boss, and you have no real ice cream to celebrate today.