Drummer Man, Lemon Chicken, and a Place Called Home...

I'm learning to find comfort in myself...

To make time for all the things I love to do...

And "home" is what I make it...

The one thing I love in life is seeing people happy...
Doing the things they love...
Making the most of life in the time we have...
Sharing experiences and being ourselves...

Yesterday, I was exhausted after a long (and may I say fun) weekend of work. Driving to have lunch with a few co-workers, I found myself stopped on 4th South and 300 West in downtown SLC.

Stretching my neck, I turned and saw a gentleman in his beat-up work truck, wearing his fluorescent work vest and beat-up white work shirt, practicing the drums by pounding drumsticks upon the dashboard to the beat of a track--I can only assume--was playing on his stereo. It wasn't as if we were there long, or that he saw me, but it was a moment of life. He was his job, I was on my way to relax from mine. He was an individual with talents and goals, making the time for each wherever possible. I had taken the steps to achieve mine with my new job. I left smiling.

Tonight, after a planned coffee with a high school friend I haven't seen in 15 years, I found myself out to a forgotten dinner planned with the girls. Catching up over Chinese food, we laughed at our passed frustrations and disscussed our new worries, goals, jobs, boys--you know girl talk. Each of us reached for our chocolate fortune cookies with anticipation, and found ourselves in disappoitment. None of us received what we wanted (you know the fortune that says... "You will win a million dollars tomorrow." And it actually happens). Instead I received...

"All the water in the world can't sink a ship unless it gets inside."

O.k. Thanks for that.

So I left dinner and met up with a friend for dessert. Through our conversation I found myself telling one of my favorite stories during my last trip in Europe. I realized this time in telling, my moral in the story--"If you miss your train to catch your plane, there is always another way back home."--was like my fortune cookie. And the fortune cookie was like the stranger playing the drums in his truck.

I saw something in passing yesterday...

I received a fortune from my fortune cookie at dinner tonight...

I told a story to a friend over dessert and coffee...

And each melded together to a strange and comfortable realization.

There may be hiccups in achieving my dreams, but if I see the moments around me then the few seconds of waiting for a light to change from red to green will open my eyes to reflect upon my fortunes, and a story told many times before, can show the foundation to the home I plan to live in.

Pink Aisle Confronted...

As is usual, I found my grocery shopping path changing course after January 1st.
I was taking long routes to "find" the eggs, jumping aisles to get that needed bread, or just telling myself the toilet paper could wait until next time.

I steer clear of the "Pink Aisle" every year.
(Say this as if it's a story from the Twilight Zone for full affect.)

If you've read my past posts on this subject, you know I've been battling Valentines Day for a long time. But last year, I told myself I would take the battle head-on, celebrating by buying/eating an entire box of chocolates from the dreaded--shove hearts down your throat--Pink Aisle.

The battle was fierce, and I realized a three step program was needed:

Step 1: Register and recognise the actual existence of the Pink Aisle.

About mid January, I mustard up the nerve to motivate my eyes to gaze upon the aisle as I walked through the grocery store doors. I had no problems finding it, as shiny red helium balloons circled it's location, and weird blood dripping light illuminated its being (I'm guessing this is from the reflection of the fluorescent lighting). And then my head would move to the vegetable section and I would decide there was no need for the actual items I entered the store for, because I wasn't ready for step two quite yet. This went on for a few weeks.

Step 2: Stand in-front of the Pink Aisle and take-in all the crazy hearts and stuffed animals it contains.

You might say this would have been a great time to get over my unnatural fear and just enter the frick'n (yes, I'm from Utah) aisle. But I couldn't. Instead I just stood staring at the long abyss, blockading others admittance while I clutched a hold of the cat food bag, Mint-Milano cookies, and soda I was purchasing for the night. After a few minutes, I'll admit I ran to the self-checkout stand and quickly swiped the bar codes so I could seek comfort at home from my cats.

Step 3: Place yourself in that aisle, baby!

This happened the night before Valentines Day. After driving a co-worker home from a late night at work, I achieved the confidence to confront the aisle. But let me say this before I proceed. This year I found myself in an odd state of being. You see, this year was different from the last twleve. This year, I actually had a Valentine!!!
So as I walked into the store I rushed with determination to confront, and wallop, the damn Pink aisle for all the annoyance it presented in my life previously. I made it about 5 feet in and stopped dead.

The shelves were dishevelled and picked over. Each one ransacked by individuals picking-up heart chocolate packages and tossing them aside in frustration. Perusing my options, I quietly and with confidence chose a tiny red hear shaped box of chocolates. It's cover marked by Snoopy and friend (this seemed the best option as Snoopy and I go way back and he and his pals comforted me in my youth).

It seemed to easy...
But it wasn't hard to eat the chocolates...

My Valentine comforted me the next day. He did everything right. A thoughtful gift--with me in mind, reservations at a nice restaurant of his choosing, wonderful conversation and laughter, and mini cup cakes for dessert... and not one thing from the dreaded "Pink Aisle!"

Who knows how my impression will be of the Pink Aisle next year? For now it's camouflaged by pastel colors of eggs and small stuffed chickadees and lambs. But I know it's waiting, bidding its time!

At least I've made the first steps to reconciling our friendship.