Sunday, January 30, 2011
Pausing to Grin about the Grins
I’ve started—and deleted—three posts to Grumbles and Grins, tonight. With the advent of industrial wind in my life fifteen months ago, it seems like I’ve written more grumbles than grins… and that’s not good. Life is about balance. Perspective. Life is about giving to others more than you take; and each time I grumble, there is the chance that I’m sending a cloud to block the sunshine which was filling someone’s day. Even though my efforts to fight the wind energy plan for Maine are purposeful, even though my aim is to inform and educate and energize… still, there is more to life than wind. There are friends and husbands and parents and children. Dogs and cats and moose and red-tailed hawks. Careers and hobbies, white snow and blue sky, chuckling brook and wind soughing through the bows of a fir tree. This is an incredible, amazing world filled with people who are unique. Crazy and sane, stubborn and malleable, domineering and submissive, honest and deceitful. Life is an amazing journey, and if you have a narrow vision, you will miss that which makes it such a remarkable ride.
This has been a week of highs and lows. And tonight, I’m going to spotlight the highs. I can do this, because it’s my blog.
I lost (I think) a pound and a half. I’ll have to check with the official ‘keeper of the charts’, but I believe that’s right. And a pound and a half might not sound like much, but if I picture six sticks of butter, I feel pretty good about it.
I got a call from Larry in Queensland. He woke me up, actually—forgetting, for some reason (called, I think, ‘Bundaberg Rum’) that his Australian nighttime is my American morning. But it didn’t matter. Anytime I can talk to a friend is a good time. And he gave me an amazing treat. He took his telephone out onto the veranda and let me listen to the roll of thunder across Brisbane Harbor. How cool is that--to be lying in bed in Maine and listening to the thunder—in real time—half a world away?
Josie and Eli had good second quarter report cards. One ‘B’ for Eli, two for Josie, and the rest were ‘A’s’. That’s something a mother can smile about—even while asking if there was some reason (called, I think, ‘too much TV and computer time’) that they couldn’t bring those B’s up to A’s. I know, I know… but I’m the mother of some very bright kids, and they know—just like I do—that they can do better. Still, those grades are something to smile about.
I beat Mr. Grumbles in a game of cribbage. A game we began playing at 4:45 in the morning. Hey, if I can be that sharp at such an ungodly hour, I’m going to crow about it. Just a little. Quietly, so he doesn’t hear me. Because, after all, I’m a good sport.
I received a gift from a very good friend. Something with no monetary value, but worth its weight in gold. This friend is a fellow author. He’s a fellow survivor. And--he’s a gift from above. Please don’t tell him I said that, though. He also possesses an overabundance of “Not only am I wonderful, but I’m always right”. With that kind of self-confidence, I see no need to further solidify his enthusiastic claims.
I gave a pal of mine a haircut. When I offered and he accepted, he had no idea that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I have no talent for cutting or styling hair. Watching his nervousness when I informed him of that as I picked up the scissors, caused me to chuckle. He also seemed taken aback when I instinctively blew forcefully on his face to get rid of the hair that was falling and sticking there. I guess, now that I think about it, that’s not something any hairdresser has ever done to me while I sat in the salon chair. But hey… you get what you pay for.
A teller at my local credit union also gave me a gift. A generous give of time, free of charge. I need to find a way to repay and thank her for that.
My oldest son gave me an unsolicited kiss. The act of writing that makes me smile. Guy is almost 28 years old, and yet, I still find myself surprised when I feel that scratch of whiskers. How can he be that old, already? How can I?
These bright spots might not seem like much when you’re on the outside, looking in on my life. But such simple things are my sunshine. My grins. Lord knows, there are grumbles aplenty. But the grins? They make it all worth it.