You can't hurt me

Someone flashed me. I didn’t feel a thing...


I spent a glorious day yesterday with a group of friends I do not see as frequently as I would like, but it seems we always pick up where we left off. You know those friends; the ones that you may not see for days, weeks, or years, but some ripple in time does not make it seem as long as it has.

Upon driving the hour-long trip home, I enjoyed a brilliant light show from nature warning us that it was about to christen us with a healthy rain. Soft melodic music set the ambient background as the wind burst in and out of the window with my arm “surfing” the bluster. T’was a blessed evening indeed.

The drive along the dark highway with only the soft “whish” of damp tires was eventually interrupted by civilization. Bright street lamps, glowing signs, and hustle and bustle of people getting where they have to go eventually encroached upon my serenity set to cruise control.

I approached the light; one option for left, one for straight/right. You know the one where the arrow goes forward and also veers right in the same vertical column separating our choices. I chose straight/right.

I admit I was not aware of how important the guy was behind me. Nor was I aware of his urgent schedule. I mean I did not plan to be where I was when I was there; I just arrived at that light at that time. I stopped at the red light as my choice, once narrowed from the straight/right to only desiring the straight, halted my progression momentarily. “His Highness” behind me must have desired to go right, despite his cosmic tardiness now placed him behind me. I stopped, coincidentally he did too. He flashed his brights at me. I didn’t feel a thing.

I kind of chuckled as once upon a time, the illuminated “call-to-arms” could have led to a good old fashioned redneck smack down. Not tonite. I now find the folly in what people allow to derail them. No I am not talking about any physical contact as I could see if someone punched you, pulled your hair, flicked your nose, gave you a “noogie, Indian burn, or wet-willie” which could cause a commotion if undesired, but the simple things we have allowed to become unnerving. It is quite comical actually.

“She rolled her eyes at me, can you believe it?!”

“Did you kick her ass?”

“No, but I really wanted to.”

This one I have heard and I am sure somewhere the outcome did transpire into violence.

Who also started the “I will harm you and disrupt you with a loud exhale” tactic? Ever had one of those moments in line somewhere; you cannot make up your mind between the chicken or the beef? I mean a burrito can be a commitment as they do truly stick with you for a while. You pause, you vacillate between the two. Then you hear it from behind you: “Huhhhh!” “Crap, give me the beef.”

Someone ever “raise their eyebrows at you? You know the: “Did they really just say that” with the accompaniment of the “OMG” sneer? Ouch. I mean that one is usually saved for the most severe of social indiscretions. I find it practiced frequently among pre-teen girls. At least in my home.




I find the “Slow-shaking-of-the-head-in-disapproval” is another tactic with its own venomous barb.

“What did I do? I mean I looked over and this dude was shaking his head at me!”

“Oh my gosh man, did you shake your head back?!”

“Damn! I didn’t think of it fast enough.”

“Maybe you ought to take the day off tomorrow to recover.”

All I want to know is how many people have died over time from the simple extending of a digit? Make a fist. Now, extend only your middle finger. Good. Now raise that hand at someone. What happened? I know; can you believe it? The simple extension of a digit. If this ever happens to me, I have fun now. I act as if I did not see it correctly, and nod in excitement mouthing “Thank you”, and raise my index finger as if they just told me “I am number one!” It really frustrates the “Flipper.”

I guess I find these things funny now. These gestures are just that, and have no more power than I give them. What does that say about me and my character to let these simple little movements and behaviors take me down. Funny how they can have a tendency to linger if you let them.

“Remember last week at the grocery, when I was trying to dig the change out of my purse, the lady behind me exhaled rudely?!”

“What? Uh, no.”

“Well, I would have said something if I didn’t have the kids with me.”

Now when confronted with these behaviors, I simply smile. Maybe that is my own passive aggressive retaliation subliminally, but not necessarily my intention. And to you “Mr. Brights-you-from-behind,” if you would like to email me your social and travel schedule, I will try to avoid your chosen path. If not, that will be me smiling at you through the rear view mirror.

Repost from: Artisan of the Human Spirit

Grasshopper thoughts, Vol. I, Part I

You're wondering what in the world 'grasshopper thoughts' are, right? This is my way of describing how my mind works. If you've been outside on a hot summer day, walking through a field, then you know that grasshoppers possess a remarkable ability to jump in the most bizarre, unexpected ways and angles seconds before you walk upon their location. This is how my brain activity functions. I have several blogging friends who label these blog posts things like "Popcorn Posts" (Anahid Boghosian's Fireside Moments) and "Pleasantly Disturbed Thoughts" (Duane Scott). These posts happen when we writerly types have a slew of thoughts that don't really settle into one nice, cohesive, smoothly communicated line of prose.


As I admit that I am, at times, more serious than I need to be, I decided after a couple of conversations with the two friends mentioned above that I would adopt this format and make it unique to me. You may enjoy the disjointed thoughts that take sudden, quirky jumps in a completely unexpected direction, only to fly off at another bizarre angle moments later. You may not like this format at all - I just know that I'm enjoying the sheer freedom this concept provides, so here goes...the first Grasshopper Thoughts epistle!

Golden raisins - who, other than myself, is a fan of these little jewels? Do many even realize they exist, overshadowed by the more traditional dark raisins? Golden raisins are actually called Sultanas, a fact I just learned by going to my old friend, Wikipedia. Take a moment to click on the link and learn some fascinating information! I just happen to prefer these golden lovelies because they're not so overpoweringly strong in flavor and lend themselves to various foods better than the darker raisin variety.

Spinning wool into thread - I just have to wonder about this one. Who was it that was musing in the fields of sheep one fine day and decided, "I do believe I'll shear those critters, do complicated things to the wool and even more complicated processes to produce this thin filament and call it 'thread'!" Whomever this intrepid soul was, my hat is off to him/her. This then makes me ponder the next thing in line, which is who came up with the concept and design of the spinning wheel. See what I mean? A typical grasshopper line of thought.

Dark chocolate & raspberries w/ salt. Need I say more? I think there is no more sublime a combination than melted dark chocolate - of at least 80% pure cacao - and ripe raspberries with a sprinkling of sea salt. I'm not really a sweets eater as a general rule, but when I do want something sweet, this is it.

Honeysuckle mornings....ahh, nothing better! You are not reading the blog of a true Morning Person, just know that right here and now. On the rare occasion that I'm up with daybreak, it is generally due to the fact that I've been on a writing jag through the night and haven't gone to bed yet. This post is being written in the midst of June 2010 and East Tennessee is in the grips of an early, hot summer. Humidity is thick enough to cut with a knife, stealing oxygen from the air we breathe, stifling the lungs as we step outside. In the wee hours of dawn, however, that same humidity coaxes delicate, heady fragrance from the honeysuckle that climbs the hill behind my patio. I sit, eyes closed and breathe the fragrance in as I listen to the day awakening around me....and my heart is still....my mind, for a brief moment at least....calmed from grasshopper thoughts...temporarily.

Mascara - it's all about the brush, people. Ladies, I have no doubt that you get this immediately. Gentlemen, I doubt you get it at all and that you probably don't care to learn! For those of you who worship cosmetics with gleeful abandon (I'm guilty, yet proud to be in this sisterhood), you know that perfect brush is the secret to long, full, curled-just-right eyelashes. I am on an eternal hunt for the next best creation, but I always come back to a tried and true favorite. Thankfully, it is one that has a cult following and has been on the market for close to twenty years, so I believe I am safe from the dreaded "DISCONTINUED" disease that is rampant in high end cosmetics!

I declare this to be as good a point as any to stop with my grasshopper journey. Never fear, this will be a continuing post. I'll be curious to see how it is received and how many of you out there have similar jumbled thoughts running through your minds at any given moment! There is absolutely no unifying theme or purpose here, other than to jot down my thoughts as these topics flit with maniacal grasshopper gymnastics along the fringes of my conscious mind.

I think it's healthy to give these grasshopper thoughts voice - I'm sure, in fact, that my gray matter is probably breathing a silent sigh of relief that I'm bestowing some semblance of order here. Yes, I know...our brains don't breathe sighs of relief, per se. Which brings up a grasshopper thought......to be continued in Vol. I, Part II....
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.