Samba, Sun, Sauciness, Sailing
#1. Friday night: Cocktails after work, some grocery shopping, a drive down the coast, a conversation with Ms XXX. Graduation celebration for Ms. Chang and a cooking foray of Fried Plantains.
#2. Saturday: Sunny sunburns, samba beats, and a slew of pix from the miSSion street festival and parade known as Carnavale. Mr. West was my guest and good company during the parade. Barbeque, some sauciness after that, fireside coversations, and good times. Big Ups to Chris & Andy for hosting.
#3. Sunday: Sailing. Sushi. Solace.
The very sassy Eric took myself and my pal Heather out sailing today. Gorgeous day, rough waves and lots of splashing and laughter. This after a breakfast that involved making odd foodart from sunnyside up eggs with BACON!
I’m wrapping up the evening listening to some familiar Motown. Supremes: Baby Baby.
Sometimes it just brings me home. And home is something, that is a) where you make it and b) wherever your heart and soul is.
Recently I’ve been thinking back to a quote from one of my favorite movies of all time “Big Trouble in Little China”.
“My mind and my spirit are going north and south.”
Things that you anticipate to happen normally, that you have confidence, competance, and control over… well when your mind and spirit are going north and south, will lead to unanticipated results. Lucky for me that my friends have quick reflexes. And the occasional 6 demon bag.
I’ve had a little bit of that situation of late where logical notions and focus (mind heading north) have conflicted with my spirit or heart (heading well south). My actions have been somewhat sloppy of late in some measures. But you know what’s good, not feeling the need to apologize.
For reasons that follow.
A. Because my true friends know the intentions of my heart better than I do myself, and in the end we always have each other’s back. Crankiness and minor moodiness and off-the-cuff snits are immediately forgotten without even a need to question the notion of forgiveness.
B. Because there are times when my judgement of my own actions are too critical. I’m not noble or perfect. In fact; I freely admit I’m far from it. I’m opinionated, need a pedicure, have occasional flatulance that has earned me the nickname Gaseous Clay, and occasional cranky. Plus I’m very sunburnt and have a patch of white hair’s peeping out of my hair. On the other hand, I’m damn charming and reasonably clever, have a great set of lips, and very good cooking foo. I’m reminded that the definition of lady’s and gentlmen is based less upon formal manners and etiquette and more for sincere effort to make the individuals around them feel welcome, comfortable and at ease. I’d like to believe that I’m more of a lady than my burps would otherwise lend you to believe.
C. You know, sometimes if I act weird; it’s because I’m pissed off and have a hard time accepting and processing my emotional space. I’ve grown up terrified of my own capacity of a temper. It’s always been like this. I have a hard time with my own anger and I tend to strike out or flail, verbally convulze ugly effluvia without accurate perspective or calm, or just sulk in my own head, distract myself with silliness, or run from that dark place in my head. I fear my own darkness. I respond with shame at my own anger. Now isn’t that odd? That I can hold fury and fold it over with remorse and guilt and swallow it like an oversized furumaki that’s about ready to choke me?
D. And then again, sometimes I don’t have any reason to apologize. Maybe I am *owed* an apology or some consideration and get tweaked/annoyed because I didn’t get it.
E. Or maybe I’m just a wee bit hung over and just need to realize that somethigns really aren’t that complicated at all.
… In recapturing my focus, and getting things back between north & south, I went back and found my Midlife Report.
That was surprisingly rewarding to reread.
Good things to think about otherwise.
It’s been just a wee bit over 2 years since my father’s stroke.
I’m happy to report that “The Daddy” is as cute as ever.
Significant progress since last year’s annual Daddy Report. I present from the “Min Jung Archives” my quick rundown.
The 17 Pieces of Advice as given by “The Daddy”.
I *heart* my Dad.
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