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Hi.

The other day a middle-aged recreational jogger was putzing around on FB, told a story to amuse herself, and "they" said she should blog, so she did. This is what you find here.

Have a Gentle Day

Have a Gentle Day

Every few days I get a text from “Sheila” from MoveOn.org asking “Christy” to support some campaign, cause or what-have-you. Every few days, I text Sheila back and tell her that there’s no Christy at this number, please remove my number from your campaign, ‘kay thx.

And then Sheila goes away for a few more days – until she comes back. So today I got a little more direct with her when I advised her to take the title of her charity seriously and “move on.”

She replied back, “Have a gentle day.”

Have a – do what, now? No, Sheila, I will not have a gentle day.  The day I am having is a raging hormone of a day where I want to rip and shred things to pieces. I’m having a “toddler day.”

The funny thing was, I got up early in a fine mood for a weekday. I had my coffee time and my Winnie Holdy Time. The day looked like it was going to be a damn good day.

Then I got into a slight “divergence of opinion” with the Lord during prayer time – I’ll leave out the details, other than to say, Jesus and I differ on the timing of The Plan, let alone the plan altogether — and I’m not happy about it – and that’s when things headed south, because I started pouting.

So I stomped into the kitchen for a Coke Zero from my fridge, but the little plastic-thingy around my 6-pack would not release the bottle. Instead of maturely extricating the bottle from the holder, I began thrashing around like a wild animal stuck in a trap. The milk ricocheted off the pitcher of iced tea. My two water bottles splashed around and wound up somewhere in the bottom of the fridge, expelling their contents.

Then I grabbed a towel and wiped out the bottom of the fridge. The phone rang, and I stood up and cracked my head against the door, which you know only soothed my mood like the very Balm of Gilead. Just for good measure, I threw the towel across the kitchen into the living room with a good, sloppy whap up against the TV. I startled Trixie, who’d just come in from the backyard and had no idea of the furor going on in the house.

So, no, Sheila, I am in no mood to have a gentle day, whatever that means. However –

When my sister and I were teens, my dad had a good friend who was a cynical older chap, who — once you’d met him — it was easy to understand why he was divorced. My mom couldn’t stand him. But he was kind to me, and regarding his ex-mother-in-law, he would sing this song:

“Always in a foul mood, a foul mood, a foooouuuul mood.

Never in a good mood, a good mood, a gooooood mood.”

I know it doesn’t translate well, but I loved that guy. He made me laugh, and if you make me laugh, I’m yours. Singing that song to myself all day today – 30 years later – makes me laugh (I know — I’m a nutter), and with the laughter, I feel like being a little kinder to myself.

I still think Sheila’s tag line is stupid, but she had a point. I need to be gentle with myself on these kinds of days.

Hey, you! Have yourself a gentle day.

Living With Heather: A Most Interesting Title

Living With Heather: A Most Interesting Title

Sound & Fury

Sound & Fury