Sometimes I think my writing is too acerbic. Too sarcastic. Too mean. "Lighten up!" I tell myself. Someday the Little Prince and Princess will go through my writings and see only the ramblings of a crazy, cranky old lady. How will they ever reconcile that image with the dazzling ray of sunshine that is the real me?"
In an attempt to leave a more accurate record of my cheerful demeanor for posterity, today's posting will be unrelentingly positive. No more Gloomy Gus here! I'm on the lookout for silver linings. I'm fastening on my rose-colored glasses with duct tape. You've been warned.
I felt just like a Disney princess this morning as I awoke to the melodious chirping of the birds outside my window. At 4:30 a.m. The little darlings couldn't wait to herald the dawn. Oh! To live without the restraints of measured time enforcing arbitrary concepts like: sunrise isn't until 6 a.m. Oh! To be as cheerful as they, lifting my voice to greet the promise of a new day. At 4:30 a.m.
Our newspaper delivery person obviously shared the birds' joy. His concerto of car stereo, faulty muffler and door slamming brought me back to consciousness when slumber dulled my attention to the songbirds. Happy was I the birds increased their volume to ensure my rapt attention.
Today was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sun shone brightly. The grass sparkled like emeralds, tossed about by a breeze bearing greetings directly from our generous, frost-bitten brothers in Alaska. What folly to expect spring weather to be warm. Such narrow-minded thinking!
It was a perfect day to enjoy nature. Or better still, to run time-consuming errands requiring driving. If I hadn't been out on the road today I may have forgotten that just because someone puts their turn signal on, they should not feel obligated to turn. Good for you, unknown driver! Defy conventions! Turn wherever and whenever you want. Or not.
Those energetic, mucus-enhanced, exuberant youths in the dentist's waiting room? Such a pleasure to share their company! I had no idea snot bubbles could get that large. It's true, America's Got Talent!
So what if the appointment ran a little longer than expected. So what if I didn't have time to stop in at the coffee shop. Who needs a little, pick-me-up latte when they are feeling stressed? Not me. No siree. I'm high on life! I'm no slave to Mr. Caffeine or his little buddy Mr. Brown Sugar Syrup, floating around all nice and warm and smooth under a soft cloud of foamed milk.
Pardon me. It just gets so hard to type when I can't see the screen because of (snif) the tears. But, like I was saying, getting up to go after a tissue is a good thing, and ..., and ..., yes, I think I'm OK now. Because I've saved the best for last! The perfect ending to the perfect day, brought to you the Visa commercial way:
Making three trips to the softball fields because I forgot the chairs and then the team's checkbook? $1.90 in gas money. Loosing feeling in my fingers and toes because of those air-sharing Alaskans? $7.50 for ultra-delux sweatsocks. Sitting behind a dog making the exact same sounds as Snot hacking up a bone in Christmas Vacation? $25 for a new pair of jeans. (I just about wet mine laughing). Watching the Little Princess' team crush the opposition? Priceless.
Whew. A whole day of cheerful. That wasn't so bad.
But I am reminded of the old saying, "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy."