Here’s the thing. I can dance. I really can. When dancing is required in a public space my limbs get rigid and I freeze. Dancing in the bathroom? Oh yeah, I’m the business (IMO). Dancing out in the open? Fugettaboutit. While finding forty, I figure there are some things that are going to have to happen. I am just going to have to bite my lip, close my eyes and do. Today, I will dance. It won’t be forced. I will just allow myself to feel the music in my ears and move as it glides down my soul. Dance today—anywhere and enjoy every beat. I know I will.
All the time. Won’t He just do it? Isn’t He just on time all of the time? I love God just because He is God. His dreams for me are bigger than I could ever fathom. His vision stretches farther than my vision could ever go. His direction is correct every time. So, for those who need a little reminder of how good He is and the job you still have left to do–here it goes. Whenever I am feeling the need for nudge for focus on the Greater, this is what I blast. Happy Friday! And keep rockin–you’ve got this. Just trust. It all works for your good.
I had seen this commercial a while ago and intended to write about it then, but light bulb moments are fleeting in my brain on a daily. I usually have trouble figuring out why I walked into the bedroom (to get….what again?) let alone remembering an idea. Anyway, I had to share, and it fit for a Freestyle Friday topic. Go into the weekend being inspired to do something. Even if you end up not doing anything, at least your weekend won’t be a sad countdown to Monday morning 😛
Music is the soundtrack to our lives. It doesn’t matter if it’s hip hop, classical, rock, r & b, neo soul…music is a universal language that can explain or enlighten or ignite in a way that nothing else can. For some it is the tune or the beat that gets the point across, but for me (majority of the time) it is the lyrics.
I have heard this song plenty of times but just this week I heard the song. It has given me life every day and I am pretty sure as I continue the journey, it will continue to do so. For those of you who have heard the song, you know what I’m talking about…for those of you who have not–take a listen to the words and I bet you will start looking at your journey a little differently.
So, I have a date on Saturday. It is with Young Gun, who I have been conversing with regularly for a couple of months now. Unfortunately, due to my schedule and his we don’t seem to find the time to enjoy one another’s company often. This weekend, however, we set aside the time to do just that. With that being said, I have a very first-world-problem situation happening. What do I wear?
I am a simple gal. Sweats, ball caps, bandanas, sneaks, GAP sweatshirts, and baggy tees are my thing. Sure I like to throw on the make-up and the heels Monday through Friday for the office show, but on the weekend I take dressing down to a whole new level. That makes me wonder though…is that being simple or is that just being lazy? Does it say I am confident enough to look like a truck driver on purpose or does it just lend a huge helping hand to me not caring about my appearance at all?
When I mumbled under my breath that I would have to find something to wear, YG replied: Honestly, just wear shoes that make you low to the ground, your hair in that cute little fro, jeans and a tee. No need to get dressed up or wear heels or anything. To this I responded: Excuse me sir, but I don’t do that. I dress up Monday through Friday, but the weekends are dedicated to baseball hats, workout clothes and sweatshirts. So…that’s what you’ll get. According to Tobago and Emily, I am not allowed to do that.
When discussing with them what I should wear, they both adamantly said no to the compression pants and the GAP sweatshirt. Emily emphatically shot down the baseball cap. *sad face* “You’re going on a date!” she said. “Ok, if you have been married to him for 40 years, throw on a hat and sweats, but you haven’t. No hats of any kind.” Tobago said she would hunt me down if I wore workout clothes. *sigh*
When do you know which is which–laziness or simple? And what fashion caters to either one that doesn’t involve yoga pants and holey tee shirts? It is safe to say that I probably won’t rock the baseball hat (although I am highly tempted) and I probably won’t wear my running pants either (even though they suck in my stomach like Spanx). I will probably slip into something plain Jane simple–something where I can sit with my legs open–and enjoy the company all the while wondering if I am just a simple chick or a lazy one. Perhaps I will opt for being just a simple kinda gal who enjoys being comfy with a slight fashionably lazy potential.
With this week in the books and the Old House wrapped up and tucked away, I needed a way to unwind and let it all out. There are a few things that make me laugh every time I see them and this is one. Have a laugh and enjoy the weekend!
Today marks a major accomplishment. I am going on a date. Yes, an actual date with dinner, movies, make-up and everything. I have been on dates before, since the split, and they have been okay. One dude bought me drinks and dinner and we sat talking for hours. Another guy tried to lay his head on my shoulder–ummm, no. This one dude stood me up so I guess that can’t be considered as an actual date, and the last guy made me laugh and feel so comfortable I did not want the night to end. All of those experiences were nice, sure, but nothing is going to beat this.
Nothing is going to beat coming home, slipping into the shower, smelling great and looking better. Nothing will beat jamming to some awesome hype music, waiting to be seated and enjoying dinner. Nothing can beat standing in the movie ticket line, finding a seat, and hunkering down for a thrilling two hour ride. Nothing beats doing all of that….alone.
Yup, alone. I am taking myself out on a first date. It was not exactly what I was anticipating for my first date. I had actually bought tickets to the symphony but seeing how they can’t get it together (strike situation) going to dinner and a movie (Gone Girl…yay!) is the next best thing.
It is important (so I have heard) to date oneself. I am finding that out. I have never been afraid of doing things alone, but purposefully having my mind set on making plans for me and only me is new. Getting dressed up, treating myself as if I am on an actual date (minus the out loud pleasantries–I don’t want to seem too bat shit crazy) is an entirely new experience. I have actually been excited for it since Wednesday. It has given me a chance to look forward to getting better acquainted with a VIP….me. Can’t go wrong with that 😛
Nope. No. No sir. You don’t get to absolve your stuff here. You don’t get to clear your conscience with me. You don’t get to say sorry and expect absolution. I am not the judge. I am not the jury. I am a by-stander who just happened to get hurt standing in the crowd. I do not get a say in your heavy hearted matters, and to be quite honest I don’t want a say.
Silly me, standing too close. I should have stepped away. But instead I stood looking on thinking it would not be me…Silly silly girl. But that doesn’t mean you get to apologize. Your words are thin and easy to tear. They are transparent and dangerous. That’s the most lethal thing you know….that which can be seen.
They make you believe it’s the monsters in the dark that will get you, but it’s all lies and fairy tales. What gets you isn’t the bump in the night but the thing in broad day light. It’s safer that way, for the thing that is…to get you when you can see it plain as day. It doesn’t have to creep up or devise a plan, it can just do it’s damage and point blaming fingers because…well…you saw it coming, right?
Nope. No. No sir. You don’t get to drop your guilt off here. This isn’t a Safe Place. This plate is full enough already. You don’t get to dip your soiled rags in my already muddied water, trying to cleanse yourself. You don’t get to ask questions or make comments. You don’t get rights to my happiness or my friendship.
Nope. No sir. Absolve yourself elsewhere…not in my lap.
Every time I go into the grocery store I pass by the flower section, and each time I stop and smell the roses. Only the roses. It is something I have been doing for years…I really don’t know how it started or why. But each time I pass by those gorgeous, delicate pieces of God’s art I stop, smile, and inhale. No thoughts come to mind. No stresses take over the moment. No sounds are heard. No questions to answer. Just a moment in time where the world stops and it is okay. Every time I stop, it is a reminder that God created beautiful. He created gorgeous. He created delicate. He created breath and life and time. And everything He created was for a multitude of purposes, one of which is purely for our enjoyment. So the next time you happen to pass by a flower (doesn’t have to be a rose) make the conscious decision to stop and smell it. Take a moment, breathe it in and enjoy the gift of His art. I know I will 😛
Relationship status should not be the catalyst for change of style or direction, but let’s just face it, it kinda does…especially break up status. Yea, breaking up is hard to do but mostly because you spend so much time and money revamping yourself. You strive to be the you you should have been all along or the you that was lost, but then real life steps in and corrects you just a bit.
I drive a Mom Mobile. Not just because it’s a minivan but also because it houses several things that should not really be in a motor vehicle (belonging to a single lady) unless it’s an Office Depot truck or a food truck. Currently, I have gloves, a wooden box full of rocks, a head band, a soccer ball, two baseball uniforms, a baseball bag, dirty socks (none of which match), food wrappers and art supplies kindly placed in the floor, on the seats or tucked away in whatever compartment the kids felt necessary to stick it in.
I have seen and been a party to other moms Mom Mobiles and they are all the same. Toys, shoes, socks, bags, trash, food, books, paper, mail, sticky stuff in places you would never think sticky stuff to go all accompanied by that sad, pained, helpless look ‘I’m sorry for the mess. If my life actually belonged to me, my car wouldn’t look like this and neither would my hair or clothes for that matter’.
A girlfriend and I went out on a much needed girls night. We were driving around blasting songs like Partition & Flawless…’yonce empowered. When we reached the restaurant, she snatched the volume down to a whisper as we skated past a patio table full of gentleman. We busted out laughing at the silent understanding that no matter how cute we looked we were still parking a minivan.
I can’t change the whip right now. Aside from its obvious gas guzzling capabilities, it’s paid for, it’s roomy & it runs relatively well. I can wash it and clean out the kid debris but that won’t change the slight cringe I get when I get out in a short skirt and high heels. I suppose I should be proud to be riding in the Mom Whip–it is an honorable task I have been given: master the sister/brother arguments over the front seat and the radio, teach sex ed and life lessons on the way to school and deal with others who don’t know how to drive. Mom Mobile to the rescue….and to practice…and to school….and to work….