Let’s Boogie

“What are you doing, La Flor?” I asked.

“What does it look like? I staring out the window. I wondering what life is all about. What is life all about, Ray?” whined La Flor.

“What’s wrong? I’ve not see you so low?”

La Flor turned me. The woman wasn’t wearing makeup. She looked like she belonged in the church choir. She was wearing a sweatshirt and jammy bottoms. And, it was two in the afternoon. She is seriously down.

“Take a good look at me, Ray. Do you see it?”

“See what?” I asked.

“I didn’t touch it. I won’t touch it. Don’t you touch it. It’s contagious,” she said.

“What? You look great,” I lied.

“I can tell when you’re lying,” she said.

“You can?”

“Yes. You try to sound sincere,” La Flor said.

“You men. You’re all the same. Where’s LC when I need him. He’s at school. There is no one here to dote me. Cater to me. He’s exhausted when he comes home. He doesn’t want to go out. Chef school is killing our relationship. It’s making age before my time.”

What does a sensitive male do in these situations? I Google, “what does a sensitive male do in these situations.” Google’s first answer, “Are you serious?” I asked Siri, “what does a sensitive male do in these situations?” Siri answered, “You’re obviously a male. Your species is not sensitive.”

La Flor spoke, a hint of tears in her eyes, “What am I going to do about this, Ray.”

I looked at La Flor pointing to her head, “Your head looks fine. What’s wrong?”

“A gray hair. A gray hair. A gray hair,” she screamed.

I bent closer to look at the agent of evil, the gray hair. I said, “Did you hug Big Carmen yesterday?”

“Yes?”

“I think it is his hair. It’s not attached to your head.”

La Flor raced to the bathroom. I heard a scream of joy. A shout of exhilaration. A howl of delight. The shower turned on. I heard music playing. Her world was turning around.

An hour later La Flor walked out as if she was heading out to wherever the beautiful people head to in the late afternoon.

Before she can say a word. “Beautiful, tough, and edgy one, I am home to beg use forgiveness.”

Enter Little Carmen.

“It’s too late. You’re history. You’re in my past,” said La Flor.

“I want to dote on use. I want to cater to use. I want to jump tall buildings for use,” pleaded Little Carmen.

“Really?”

“Chef Vigeli kicked me out of school today. He said he’d just as soon die as to keep teaching me.”

“I love that man. Shower, shave, and let’s boogie, ” said La Flor.

All was right again.

 

 

Grateful, Always Grateful

Every person I’ve met who exudes peace, compassion, and a sense of emotional wellness that often escapes me have at their core a sense of gratefulness. They are my teachers. They the are poor and well to do. They’ve never experienced worldly success and they’ve been on top. They’re black, white, brown, and yellow. They’re men and women. Young and old. They represent all religions and ethnicities. They’re grateful for sun and blue sky. They’re grateful for a glass of water. They’re grateful for you and me. I want to be like them. Gratefulness is a way of life. Enjoy Rita Ora’s Oscar performance her Grateful Song.

 

Grateful For All

A grateful attitude is a pathway to happiness, joy, and love. When I view life through my heart’s lens, I see all life as a gift I have no time for sorrow, no time for envy, no time to crawl inside a personal prison. I jump for joy, for each moment is Christmas – it is all gift. Please enjoy this powerful YouTube video about gratitude.

What Is Life All About?

“What is life all about, Ray?”

I’m sitting at my desk trying to come up with a cute idea for today’s blog and La Flor* asks about the meaning of life. My head feels like it’s performing on the uneven parallel bars at the Olympics. I ask her for clarification, “Why are you asking me, La Flor*? Do I look like I’ve figured it out?”

“Not a chance. Who else is there to ask. I don’t see anyone else in the room with us, Ray.  Who do you think I was asking, if not you,” asked La Flor? A puzzled look on her face as she glances around the room.

I pondered her question. La Flor is serious. I can’t criticize her. I’ve had colleagues accuse me of being ADHD and that was one of their nicer compliments. I don’t know what prompted La Flor to ask me what life is all about.

I turned the question around and said, “What do you think life is all about, La Flor?”

La Flor looked at me, shrugged, and said, “I always do better in deep conversations with a glass of wine, crackers, and cheese. I know you don’t drink. I still can’t figure an Italian not drinking wine. This is one of the mysteries that Leflore, beautiful, tough, and edgy is trying to figure out. I’ll be right back.”

I’m trying to get used to La Flor slipping between the first and third person as if her conversation were normal. I’m still not used to it.

Five minutes later, La Flor places a glass half filled with Sauvignon Blanc,  a wedge of fresh buffalo mozzarella, and wheat crackers and the remainder of the bottle on my desk next to my laptop. I’m freaking out. What if she gets excited and knocks over her wine on my keyboard?

“Problemo, Ray?”

I do my guy thing showing nothing bothers me even when it really does. “No problemo, La Flor. I looked at her wheat crackers and tossed a bit of guy humor toward her, “Good thing you don’t have a gluten allergy,” I said.

“Ray, if we’re going to have a serious conversation about life back off and let me sip my wine, a few bites of my cheese and crackers and I’ll be ready. What would make you want to talk about glue? I don’t have a glue allergy I don’t use glue.”

I made a mental note about the tough part of the beautiful, tough, and edgy description. I’ve not seen it before. It fits.

La Flor took a sip of wine, another bite of mozzarella on a wheat cracker and then said,  “I’m trying to help you, Ray. I’ll keep it simple. Like you say, guy speak.”

“I can use all the help I can get,” I said.

“Life is like the perfect cup of coffee.”

“I hope Starbucks doesn’t steal that as a slogan. That’s pretty good, La Flor. What does it mean?”

“Am I being a little too deep for you, Ray?”

” I’m over my head in this conversation, La Flor.”

“The perfect cup of coffee has the right balance of boldness, a sassy flavor, and an aroma that makes you want to keep coming back for more,” La Flor said with a smug sense of self-satisfaction.

“I think I’m getting your point, La Flor. The perfect cup of coffee is like you.”

“I never thought of it that way, but there are striking similarities. And if I may continue…”

“Please do, La Flor. I’m interested in knowing more about what life is all about.”

La Flor poured more wine into her glass. She took another sip, and said, “When life is all wrong, it’s like a bad cup of coffee.”

“How’s so,” I said.

“Oh, Ray, you really need to get out more. You have to begin to have conversations with people who are interested in things other than the Boston Red Sox, the New England Patriots, Ohio State football, and good pizza venues.”

“I didn’t know there was more to life,” I said. I was worried she may be right. If she is, it will create an imbalance in my perfect world.

“No wonder, girls night out has become institutionalized. We need deep, intelligent, conversations free from football, baseball, and action-adventure flicks. It’s the kind of talk we can only get from each other.”

“Remind me if you would like to see the Spiderman movie with me this weekend?”

La Flor looked at me, then grabbed the bottle of wine to refill her glass. I wasn’t sure if I was the cause.

“You never explained to me how life going wrong is like a bad cup of coffee,” I said.

“Do I really. really need to explain to you what a bad cup of coffee tastes like?”

“I get your point. Did you get your question answered, La Flor?”

“What question, Ray?”

“What is life all about?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, Ray.  Why would you want to know? Are you having an existential crisis?”

“Where did you pick up that term? And do you know what it means?”

“I was practicing my PI stuff over at the philosophy blog. They were having a heated discussion about an existential crisis. I walked in and told them to take it to the UN to solve the crises.”

“How did that work?

“La Flor, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI stopped the argument. They couldn’t speak. I think the group leader was hyperventilating. They stared at me with their mouths wide open. I bowed and left.”

“I’m impressed, La Flor.”

“I enjoyed our deep conversation.  A bit of a heads up for you, Ray.”

“What’s that, La Flor?”

“Deep conversations can be very boring. I think I would rather you talk about football. At least you know what you’re talking about, some of the time. Are you going to let me in your fantasy football league?”

“We have six weeks to think about it, La Flor”.

” Okay, in the meantime, I think I will text my alt ego friends to come on over and enjoy life with me. I’ll be happy we can spend time together. You don’t mind, do you, Ray?”alt ego friends to come on over and enjoy life with me. I’ll be happy we can spend time together. You don’t mind, do you, Ray?”

“You go girl.”

I like La Flor’s attitude, life is about living it, enjoying friends, filling the moments with love, happiness, and joy. La Flor grabs hold of life with both hands and won’t let go. I think I’ll do the same.

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

 

,

Put A Smile On

Every day is a great day. “What a minute, Ray. You don’t a bad day? Are you on work release from a rehab center?”

“What a minute, Ray. You don’t have a bad day? Are you on work release from a rehab center?”

“I’m serious, every day is a great day. Every day you can find to give you a bit joy, a touch of happiness, a hint of love. Put it together and you had a great day.”

“What about when everything goes wrong. I mean everything goes wrong.

“I see I’m dealing with a cynic. I’m dealing with a dude who’s bent over, cramped up, looks like he waiting curbside for the mortuary van. “Come on, let me see the edges turn up. When was the last time you smiled? Sing it buster.”

“There’s nothing to smile about. You watch the news? You read the online blogs? You follow politics, terror, crime.”

“I know the problem. If I know the problem. I can suggest an antidote. Don’t delay, your life hangs in the balance.”

“Hey tone it down a bit. I can hear you.”

“You kidding me. It’s a great day and tomorrow has all the making of an even better day. And, I’m FDA approved.”

“Are you dangerous? Or, simple minded?”

“I’m neither depressed dude. Here’s the deal. It’s your diet. Plan and simple. I’m putting you on a one month diet. It’s rough. You’re going cold turkey. Actually, cold turkey is better than turkey left out on the cabinet for a week.”

“I’m suffering enough. How much longer do I have to listen to you?”

“I’m doing the writing, so you’ll have to hang around as long as I want you to hang around.”

“Let’s get it over so I can rest.”

“No listening to cable news shows. No listening to the talking heads who think they have every answer. Watch the comedy channel. Read inspiring books. Take extended walks in nature. Meet every one of your neighbors. And, most importantly, do two kind acts a day. Do it all for a month and you’ll be The dude, not a depressed dude.”

“Do I have to?”

“Afraid so. If you don’t, I’ll bring you back in the next blog.”

“I’m on it.”

happy children

Hold On

Keep Your Eyes on the Prize

Paul and Silas, bound in jail
Had no money for to go their bail
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
 
Paul and Silas began to shout
Doors popped open, and they walked out
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
 
Well, the only chains that we can stand
Are the chains of hand in hand
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on  – African American Folk Song
Life happens. It happens to everyone. We have no idea what the next moment will bring. Life happens. In moments of triumph, we shout for joy. In moments of happiness, we laugh, dance, and sing. I moments of sorrow, we cry and fight despair and depression. Life happens.
Hold on. Hold on. Keep your eyes on the prize as the African American folk song encourages us to do. In our darkest hours, hold on, there is a way through, there is a way out. Hold on. Keep your eyes on the prize. It’s there waiting for you and me.

Verified by MonsterInsights