Shopping, Coffee and Fairies - A day at the mail
I was going to open with a mini-tirade about Lady McCartney and her penchant at sounding so wrong, but decided that drinking rat's milk as she suggests is simply unacceptable lunch conversation.
So pull up a mug of fresh coffee and we'll chat a few about some of the questions I'm asked in emails from out there...
Someone asked me the other day if I'd finished my Christmas shopping. I blanched for a moment and then, regaining my composure, I lied. Yes, I said. I'd finished my shopping.
In my dreams.
I've dreamt every year of having my shopping done. Early. Even by December first. That would be lovely. However, life (me) never seems to hand that to me. I cheat myself yearly out of that perceived pleasure. There is a reason. As with everything we set for ourselves, there is a reason.
I can't imagine how I'd spent my days from the End of Shopping (december beginning) and the actual holiday/present-opening day. What on earth would I do with my time?
What would I do without the mind-numbing hours in line at check-out? What would I do without that wondrous feeling of hot-flash mixed with heavy winter coat? What would I do without the jostling and juggling, pushing and shoving of late shoppers like me?
One of these years, I'll get the shopping done early just to feel a unique experience, which after all is what life's all about, eh. New and unique experiences. Overcoming fears and setting out on the various paths life has to offer.
Favorite coffee and does it differ at this time of year.
Well no, nothing different based on the season, although a shot of good rum eggnog is always welcome.
I am a true coffee lover. I don't necessarily spend a fortune on it, but if I find a coffee I like then I usually stick with it until I taste something else I like. I'm not a fancy coffee person. Don't hand me a latte or foamy-nutmeg whatever in the morning. I'm not liable for my response. The only thing I want is a good bold coffee, hot, with a touch of rice milk. Yum. The furthest I'll go astray is espresso. Double yum but not to be done daily. Too much strain on the heart.
Try a look at your early morning visage in the mirror on a hit of espresso. What might have been bed-head on a mug of regular coffee becomes a major global event with espresso fueling that particular train. One doesn't want to go there often.
And to close...
Someone wrote me asking if I believe in fairies.
It's hard not to, standing on the veranda on a warm June night to watch the fireflies dance on the dark lawn, Flitting here and there, blinking into existence before your eyes and out again just as fast. Who wouldn't believe? In times of old, to our less technical ancestors, that must have seemed a very magical sight indeed.
Legend comes from somewhere; from talk; from stories; from images that chase children to bed at night; and far beyond.
Human imagination must have building blocks to grow on. We cannot fabricate something out of nothing. All that is created is done so with images already in the mind of the artist. How it is expressed in the chosen medium is what makes it unique.
Stories and myth, legends, tales, whatever you call them, is the same. Created from the images of humankind's experience. Whether real or not, those images came from something, somewhere.
Ok...now go get that second mug of hot brew and go spend some quality time with someone you love.
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He's dead, she's not.