I'm in a bit of a blog fog this a.m. due, I figure, to that intense emotional merry-go-round we call "life".
Mourning the death of a friend one minute -- reminded, once again, how vulnerable we all are, how tomorrow is promised to no one, how we must make the most of the present -- and then having to put on my happy, smiling, "ain't life grand" game face as I schlep groceries the next...
I want to make each day count, but the days anymore seem to storm by at the speed of light...how does one find time to stop and smell the roses before the roses are being draped atop your casket or the casket of someone you love?
Maybe that's why last night I was dreaming about riding stark naked in the front seat of a speeding car -- not sure who was at the wheel -- and seeing before me, just beyond the windshield, the bright lights of a giant ferris wheel...the carnival was in town!
Oh, how I wanted to stop and ride the rides and smell the popcorn and I was so excited...and, apparently, not one bit bothered by the fact that I did not have a stitch of clothing on...
"Oh, can we stop? Please?" I begged the driver.
But the driver just kept going. We drove around the bend.
I missed the damn carnival.
I dare say you don't have to be Freud to analyze THAT dream...
So here I sit at the computer-- fully clothed,I might add -- thinking of a million things I should be doing instead of writing...laundry, dishes, dusting, blah, blah, blah.
But I love to write...it is one of my life's passions...and at almost 51, ANY kind of passion needs to be savored -- so the laundry, dishes, dusting will just have to wait a few more minutes.
Here's to Saturday mornings and smelling the roses and writing --or doing whatever it is you love to do.
Time is of the essence, my friends.
Make the most it.