Muddlin' Lemons

A flat tire on a rainy morning leads to the positively minded gal to wink at her AAA ally which subsequently prompts ally to ask her to coffee, the same place he will propose 398 days later.

The teacher, told his contract did not get approved by the school board takes a sip from the half full mug on his desk, looks at the screensaver of Machu Picchu on his laptop and books a flight for September.

These are the characters we love, the ones who took a look at the magnet on the fridge this morning and said, "yeh! when life gives me lemons I will..."

It's easy to subscribe to the lemons into liquid bliss philosophy, it's not so easy to put into practice.  In fact, it's innately easier to show others our lemons and ask them to take a small bite of the bitter rind with you.
It really is a decision to take a wedge, look at that yellow B and juice it into something great.

I usually pride myself on being a positive presser.  Whether by nature or nurture, my sippy cup desires to never be empty.  And usually, the guilt mixed with personal disdain when it is not tends to keep it full. Perspective is beautiful and necessary but can lead to some serious emotional confusion.

I am far from the first to ask but recent events prompt query-

How many lemons 'til your basket is just too full?
How big can these lemons get before we can catch a break?
Will this lemon here even fit into the juicer?
 Is there a universal maximum allotted weight per bushel?

Of course not.  All these questions are relative to the pomologist holding the basket.

                                                                           ***

I had booked and retrieved an emergency flight for my west coast living best friend last Friday, sharing in her emotional grief, I was prepared to spend the week caring for her crisis.

I got news my Grandma wasn't doing well Monday.

Found myself hospitalized with an IV of fluids in my arm on Tuesday.

My Grandma passed away on Wednesday.

I've spent the last 4 days wandering in a land of physical and emotional exhaustion.  When I've been moved to seek some silver lining I find myself thinking of my Grandma's manicured hands and the slow, thoughtful way she'd nod her head.  When I take my dog for a walk to hopefully attain some physical empowerment, I have to stop at the top of the hill, still labored from the dehydration.

I just can't seem to make lemonade.

Now, there are heartaches and sorrow so deep they can't be minimized to lemons.  I am not in a war torn country.  I do not have a chronically ill child.  I feel the need to recognize that I recognize that.  But...I've got a barrel of some pretty tart lemons.
I've talked about the paradox of happiness, that is, a societal and personal pressure to be happy that results in confusion, guilt and unhappiness when felt otherwise.  This relates.
I know I should make some lemonade.  That key-chain sure says I should.  I want to but... I've found myself asking, what do we do with lemons that are just not ready to be pressed into lemonade?

We muddle.

These cute buoyant sayings.  Watering the grass you're standing on.  Falling down seven times, standing up eight.  They have an immediate need to fix.  To take the negative rust and abracadabra it into the silver lining.  Because of these sayings, I feel I should be getting out my juicer, right?

Now, maybe if there was a week between the lemons.  Or it was a professional lemon paired with a personal one.  Or a physical lemon combined with a logistical annoying lemon, things would be different.  Maybe the barrel could be picked up.  But sometimes the barrel is just too much.

Sometimes it's just a little too tight or a little too frequent and...that's okay.
Sometimes you just need to look at your tub of tart treasures and muddle 'em.  Live in them.  Think about them.  Cry about them.  Laugh at them.
As unromantic as it sounds, sometimes life is a little less about juicing it than it is about sloshing through it.

While we go through these sloshing seasons of life, I do implore you to recognize moments of sugar.  A friend who drives an hour to bring natural remedies.  A stranger's smile as they wait for your slow crossing of the street.  A naturally erupting laugh you didn't know was surfacing.

While a cup of sugar may be days away, these subtle sprinkles add up.

Until we can truly realize, once again...ain't life sweet?

The Day I Watched 9 Episodes of Downton Abbey

That's not an exaggeration. 
And, if I'm gonna level with ya, that's not all. 
But, "The 2 and a half days I watched 11 episodes of Downton, 5 episodes of Mad Men & paired 4 bottles of wine with 4 bags of popcorn" doesn't quite present the same literary aesthetic.

You see, it all started when I injured my neck Sunday morning.  I was attempting a classic female move equivalent to the tuck and roll.  The freshly applied makeup was combating with the already assembled ponytail as I tried to get on my sweatshirt. 
We've all been there.  Where instead of taking the .05 seconds it may take to reassemble either feature, the tuck and roll is assumed.  What follows is turtle-like maneuver where the neck submerges into the spine, twisting while doing so, in an effort to save time and frustration by not messing up said makeup NOR ponytail. 

On most days, this ever-so practical jig results in a couple curse words, a mouthful of cotton and the inevitable need to take .05 seconds to revert what you just attempted to avoid.

On this Sunday morning however, my smeared face emerged from the sweatshirt and I looked over to the....oh fudgicles.
I wasn't looking over anything.  That son of a bee sting was as stuck as brownies to a pan.

After initial attempts to remedy proved ineffective, I assumed the position.
Couch.  Heating pad.  Gaze straight forward.  Right at the Crawleys, the goblets, the English countryside and all other visuals that would become my world for 2 days (err, 2 and a half).

By hour 3 I assumed I had bed sores.  I never sit that long except to sleep and even then I channel my inner Mexican jumping bean.  I had become one with the couch, the living room and the things I tend to avoid in vast quantity the large majority of the time. 
I didn't even TRY to use my time effectively or healthfully. 
Respond to emails?  Oh hell naw, not when Cousin Violet is pissed heir Matthew is going to get the family's fortune. 
Write a blog?  Psssh, don't we all know you can't type and put pretzels in your mouth at the same time? 
READ? Why make my eyes do more work than necessary and honestly, isn't there something to be said about knowing English aristocracy and America's early ad agencies policy on day drinking?

I did.not.give.a.fork.
Well that's not true.  I gave a fork to my pasta and a spoon to my ice cream.

Because that's the other thing, I was ravenous.  My body, who is normally running alongside my mind in an effort to keep up with demands, wiping her freckled forehead on an Umbro sweatband while throwing rice cakes at her commander, had stopped.  And she had stopped on the side of the road and had found her way into a 24hr diner.  Without the structure of a normal day (or at least one that sees daylight and you like, do things) I was a one hungry little hippo.

My normal foods, in typical quantities, just weren't doing the trick.  It's a good thing I was physically unable to go to the grocery store cus I would've Supermarket Sweeped the shite outta Shaws.  Sitting there after a 1/2cup of oats with peanut butter, watching Lady Grantham dine with her comrades, I'd think of how good some leftover chicken and rice would be.  And BBQ sauce because, hey, delish. Let's grab some nuts for a crunch, which pairs very well with popcorn.  And then after savory, I'd need a sweet to cap it all off.  And thus continues the cycle.
When you don't go anywhere, don't move and don't participate in anything besides British humor, eating almost feels constant.  And the thing was, on Sunday, I did not currrr.

On Monday my neck was still jacked up, my emotions were slightly dampened and my hunger decided to stick along for the ride.   I assumed the position once again, claiming a shower the success of the day.

Tuesday I woke up feeling like a bloated sloth and about as productive as one without thumbs.  The range of motion in my neck had improved to the point where I could likely drive to a chiropractor appointment in the city and, fingers crossed, maybe even brush my teeth.  I naturally started the day on the heat pad and flicked on the tube.

However, something funny started to happen as I went to click the center "Play" button of our Firestick (uh obviously I want to watch another...dafuq Amazon we know each other now). 
I started to get, antsy.  I started to feel curious about the world outside my chaise lounge.  I wanted water and fresh air.  My ingrained habits were surfacing, pleading for oxygen and something other than an English matriarch's approval of ball gowns.

But here's the funny thing- while my old habits were itching, my new ones were dangling on.  Getting up, stretching my legs, extending what was now a very full stomach and unmotivated mind was...tough.  It took a wee bit-o-effort to get my slow moving arse in gear and it wasn't just because of the physical limitations.

So some lessons learned from my horizontal hiatus.
Habits are hard to break.  My ingrained desires could only be suppressed for so long before my ponytail sought some spunk.  And on the flip side, the desire to embrace"nothingness" can be damn powerful too.

And alas, allow me to state the obvious...both are needed.  If I thought I was balanced, this popcorn fueled reprieve proved otherwise.  Ya can't go 110mph and expect to get good gas mileage (that makes sense my auto aware friends right?) and you can't feel powerful when you're constantly idling at 0 (again, yes?). 

I've learned it's not just productivity, sweat and discipline that fuels the tank, sometimes you need to move on over to the slow lane and let others pass you, throw that window down, let in some TLC...you'll still arrive at your destination and you'll be happier when you do.

How to Be Healthier in The New Year (*cue eye roll*)

If you haven't felt bombarded by blogs, headlines, posts and articles about HOW TO BE HEALTHIER THIS NEW YEAR, chances are you're still enjoying that celebratory ball-dropping coma that was induced on Sunday.  Because if even I (like, someone who really likes broccoli and has trail mix in her purse) is annoyed, chances are, a normal bloke is about 2 eye-rolls away from cross-eyed irritation.

I would be a bit hypocritical if I took the standard Personal Trainer route of suggestions: start small...establish SMART goals (and write them down!)...drink more water...get 8 hours of sleep...FOOD PREP!...turn off electronics after 8pm...do you have a gratitude journal?...stretch in the morning...kale...dandelion chili...water infused with the laughter of children...

Okay so I'm getting a bit sassy but the truth is, those things, while sincerely applicable, appropriate and admirable, are just a bit too...generic and well...irritating for me (insert monkey covering eyes emoji).

See, most people with New Year goals are just hopeful cherubs tryin' to to do their best.  And telling someone who would really like to be healthier that swapping out their egg and sausage breakfast wrap for a green flax smoothie is the only way to do it is a bit shortsighted.  While this time of year is advantageous for professionally motivated, fitness-minded knuckleheads like me, it's not easy to subscribe to an entirely different lifestyle just because the clock struck midnight.

So...here's an unconventional list of less-than-obvious ways you can simply FEEL BETTER this New Year.  Because while Kale, Granite & Birch Bark smoothies are awesome (again sorry, slightly sassy this morning), enjoying them isn't gonna happen overnight...and before you throw your health goals to the wayside, give these whimsical little helpers a try.

• Open Your Window- yea, like while driving or for a few minutes at the office.  I know it's as cold as a penguin's tux out there but a cool blast of air will feel damn good.

• Say, "Thank You"- to the barista, your husband, that grumpy post man, the old woman who parked too close to you...be over-the-top with your vocal gratitude.

• Read...Something- I don't care if it's the flyer on the back of the cafe's bathroom door.  Take a few minutes to read something other than a caption.  If you're feeling extra ambitious, give a, gulp, BOOK a whirl.                                                      Some all time favs: Magical Thinking, Prep, The Nightingale, What Remains, 'Tis and anything by Elin Hilderbrand.

• Use Mints- and feel sophisticated as fork.

• While You're At It- drink some Earl Grey Tea one morning and start the day feeling like the slightly rundown, TJ Maxx wearing version of the Queen.

• Keep a Toothbrush at Work- feeling sleepy and less than stellar around 2pm?  Brush those chompers and feel freshtadeath.

• Chuck It- take 20 minutes each to throw out the wilting lettuce cropped in '99, donate the clothes you haven't worn since Fabolous was fabulous and dump out that junk drawer...you don't need 37 broken paperclips.

• Buy a Swiffer Duster- one swipe of that magic wand across a bookshelf will make you feel like Tidy betch.

• Change Your Clocks- no, we're not there yet but setting your clocks 4 minutes ahead will guarantee a more prompt (and less frenzied) departure.  Got used to accounting for such extra time?  Better make it 10.

• Small Talk- is not as pointless as thought to be.  You know the extra friendly CVS cashier who is enthralled by the weather?  Do more than smile and nod.  Practice with me,  "well nothing can compare to the snow 2 years ago right!" You'll make Maude's day.

• Pet a Dog- uh, duh.

• Call Your Mom- uh, also duh.

Like I said, a little anti-climactic but guaranteed (by...well...yours truly;)) to make you feel just a bit better.  And yaknow, feeling better is the first step to feeling great.