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BEST DAY EVER

You just have to watch it. You're gonna want audio...

Check it out

So if you're not here often, you may not notice the new page we (when I say we, I mean me and my charming assistant, Olivia) have added to this blog entitled, "Pictures Megan Takes When Nobody's Looking" and I really want you to see it.  Look to the right of your screen and if you click there, you'll be taken to a wonderland of Megan photos that she takes with the phones or computers of unsuspecting friends and visitors.  I'll update it periodically because now other folks are sending me ones the little sneak has taken. If you have some, let me know and we'll post them.  Hope you are well.

Gypsy

God, was there every anything more liberating than a bike?  Last year, (and if I'm honest, the purchase was the result as a straight-up bribe) I bought Olivia this fantastic bike called the Gypsy, which is wonderful because her brother calls her Gypsy so she totally owns this bike now. I bought it because her confidence on a bike wasn't where a mom wants it to be and I knew at some point she'd really hope for the freedom a bike can offer a middle schooler and her friends.  So I bribed, she rose to the occasion, and I purchased.  Perfect.

I know you love when things begin with, "When I was a kid" so I'll tell you when I was a kid the best thing you could own was your bike.  Every day, except rainy ones I guess, involved pedaling to someone's house, or tying something to the back of a bike or hopping on to head to a fort built in the woods by other bike riding kids.  Mine was yellow with rainbow stickers and a banana seat.  I rocked it.  Mel had a 10 speed and I stole it sometimes if I wanted to be cooler, but managing the gears wasn't a priority so I usually went back to my trustworthy, sunshiny steed.  A bike meant you could be gone for hours, until mom called out for dinner. A bike meant you could go ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD if you wanted to so long as by anywhere you meant within my neighborhood.  God a bike was a ticket to freedom.

Now I have a teal blue bike and it has a basket and a bell, but it doesn't have stickers or a banana seat or even red leather streamers on the handle bars like Olivia's does.  It's just a bike so I can sometimes follow her around from a great distance on her lovely Gypsy bike and maybe stop by the post office or the market for a little something, but I don't love my blue bike.  I am in love with the Gypsy bike with the leather streamers and stitching and even more in love with the thought of our Gypsy on the Gypsy bike.  Even if it means she's pedaling away from me.  

Slow News Day

I might have said something else...

Perfect Day

I love when I go to bed and think, "Now this was a perfect day." This was yesterday. Wish you were here.

In all fairness...

I used to think that everyone got what they deserved.  I KNOW. I really invested in the idea that good things come to folks who do the right things and horrible tragedy befalls those who don't, but then I turned like 8 years old and realized it didn't look like things got MORE fair for adults what with the obligation to go to work and save your money and think about gas prices and such.

When I say life isn't fair, I'm not saying people don't get what they deserve sometimes.  I'm not saying that folks don't create their own consequences.  It's true that if you make horrible choices, you'll probably find yourself in a horrible situation that maybe you'd even say you deserve, and it's also true that if you are good to folks and to yourself you'll probably have a lot of good days and some good opportunities.  I get stuck however, when a good person becomes horribly ill or when a kind friend gets treated like she's worthless by her family.  My first thought goes to how unfair it is.  What about when some slimy jackass wins the lottery or gets the promotion?  Definitely not fair.

I wanted so badly to believe that life could be fair that I went to the back up plan which is, everyone gets what they deserve IN THE END.  And maybe they do.  Don't worry, I've no intention of having a thorough, theological discussion with you, but I checked the Bible and according to that book, your life needs to suck pretty bad sometimes in order to inherit the kingdom of heaven. AND if there's anybody who knows life on earth isn't fair, it's JESUS. In fact, the whole point of your salvation is that God bestows mercy (implying you SURE don't deserve it) upon you - it's just that in this instance, I'm the jackass and unfairness is in my favor. The whole point of that is that you don't get what you truly deserve. This is not the part where I share the depth of my black, black heart with you or ask you to show me yours. Let's move on.

So, why do we keep looking for fairness?  I think what really drives us in our futile search for a great leveling in life is that we want an acknowledgement of when we've done well and we REALLY want acknowledgment when someone else screws up - even more, we want to witness the evening out of things at some point.  Simple. That's why tabloids and that local gem, the Busted newsletter, are such lucrative endeavors.  We want to see the handing down of cosmic justice so we can cheer (unless we are the one in the middle of the road).  Not only do I want to see it, there were times I might have wanted even to orchestrate it!  The truth is, though, I never felt very good after taking delight in seeing another person's miserable comeuppance.  

Well, maybe for a second.  

Anyway, the flip side is this:  2012 has been a bright and shiny year for me and, despite that fact that I've worked pretty hard to be a good person this year, I don't know that I'd say I deserve this bright and shiny year any more than anyone else does (I probably deserve it a lot less, actually).  I recognize that most folks don't have this lifestyle, that I didn't deliberately create this life as much as land in it, that I could be living in some place that has horrible toilet situations or worse, BURKAS, and I'm just grateful.  Grateful for whatever alignment of stars, the choices of thousands of ancestors, or whatever circumstances landed me right here beside you.  Is it fair? Do I deserve it? How would we even measure that? By how hard I work? By the suffering I've experienced? By whether I've helped others who suffer? By where I was born? By whether my mother wished upon the right star?

None of that makes sense. And what I'm hoping is that if I focus enough on being grateful, I won't be so distracted by trying to make sense of whether I deserve this life or you deserve yours, because, really, there is no understanding that. There's only the chance to offer compassion to people who suffer in situations worse than ours and happiness for people in places we'd envy.  So you can keep searching for the thread that makes it all even out, or you can just let it sink in that life isn't always fair.  And some days thank goodness that it isn't.

In case you haven't seen it yet...

You have no idea how badly I wish I'd seen this

http://imgur.com/cdCEq?tags

Add this to the list of Deal Breaker Christmas Gifts

Japan Invents "Diet Glasses" to Fool Wearers into Eating Less

A reminder.

Quit thinking you're not living the good life.

The Dollar General, Generally

My dad tells me when we talk trivia that there are 22 Dollar General Stores in Rome, GA. I haven't checked his numbers there, but I know we have quite a few. Often Kenny stops in after his gym visit for any odds and ends that I can't bear to go back out for and we noticed a trend of strange events that occur on those outings.  He's seen more than one altercation, tons of cursing and often finds evidence that it's not really our kind of place, but the entertainment value keeps him coming back (he knows his girls love a good story so it's worth something to search for it).

You think I make stuff up, but I swear to you he was once behind a twitchy, canned cat-food laden woman who kept muttering "I gotta get outta here" while two other women in front of him bitch slapped one another. He barely made it out alive.  For a long time I let these incidents just be stories, but then I decided to give this place a whirl.  I used to tell him I'd wait in the car "because weird stuff always happens in there" but then I was in search of the weird so I braved it myself.

So beyond discovering that very few things cost only a dollar in the Dollar General Store, here's what I witnessed this year alone:  I watched as one pajama clad woman was escorted to jail by police for shoplifting underwear (I said let her keep 'em), but only after her stroller aged child was taken home by the babysitter she called upon her arrest.  A middle aged male crack head told me I was looking good and I accepted his compliment because you need to take those when they come.  There was the woman who needed assistance from the entire line of waiting people to count out her ice cream money. I learned two things there: people are more compassionate than you think and a group of folks trying to do math problems always ends in disaster.

I had a glimpse of what another woman's Saturday afternoon would involve when I saw her purchase only a can of Campbell's Cream of Chicken soup and a can of Ant and Roach Killer and I have to admit, I was happy to be me that day so that was a good life lesson.  You can always count on the holidays to bring out the best in folks so Olivia and I got to watch one slack jawed family who came to buy presents as they loudly argued over whether the children were naughty or not.  They were. And I fear we all learned a few new words that day. The cursing is always spectacular at Dollar General and there is really no off hour where nothing insane happens. If this isn't an endorsement, I don't know what it is you want in a retail experience.

BUT, I have to say the most startling event occurred last week when I decided before we left town that the cat litter situation at our house meant we were gonna have to stop in the DG after dinner. Olivia asked if she and Wyn (my darling niece) could stay in the car because, "Something weird always happens in there."  I responded with, "Nope, you gotta come in because you're right, something weird always happens in there IF BY WEIRD YOU MEAN AWESOME."

My quick visit was made longer because of the back of the store placement of what felt like a 400 pound box of cat litter (also it cost more than a dollar).  I was duck walking it towards the cashier when OUT OF NOWHERE this lady kind of Jack-In-The-Box lurched out at us.  Olivia and Wyn slunk into their protected position behind me.  I want to be friendly to everyone, folks, but I like a little bubble between myself and a stranger so I'm sure I took a step back. You can relax because it turns out she only wanted to ask our advice on what medicine she ought to take because every time she eats she has to run to the bathroom to poop immediately. She said the other woman she'd asked had offered no real advice and she really didn't want to ruin any more of her underwear.

You can't unhear something friends.

I know I didn't answer correctly. I should have offered more compassion, but in my defense, I was wondering, should I be this woman's medical problem solver? And more importantly, is she standing close enough for me to catch whatever intestinal explosiveness she's spreading the day before I leave on vacation?? In my startled state (I mean, your poop and your problem with it, is PERSONAL) I blurted something about regular doctor's visits and good luck with that, threw some money at the cashier and dragged the children and our 400 lb litter box out into the insanely small parking spaces.

I am left with trying to decide if I want to feel like I belong in the Dollar General or not and if all the amusement it offers me is really worth it.  I will encourage Kenny to take his turn there until I get my nerve up again.

L

A+ for Style

Wish I could have gotten you a better picture of the sombrero, but I wasn't certain he'd appreciate me acting like the paparazzi. East Rome.