humorous

I Need My Piece of Chocolate

by

“La Flor*, I think it’s time we had a frank discussion about chores in our house.”

“I don’t have time, Ray. My plate is full.”

“Help me, La Flor. What do you mean by, your plate is full?”

“Do you really want me to tell you everything I do? It will take some time.  I’ll cut to the chase, I need an administrative assistant.”

“You need an administrative assistant? Why?”

“If you followed me. Ray, you’d understand. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up my frantic pace. Please create one in for me?”

“Create one for you? Surely, you’re jesting?”

“I jest not. Make my administrative assistant about 6 feet 3 inches. A male with a six pack and I’m not talking beer.  He’ll need a good sense of humor to match mine. Thick dark hair so I can run my hands through it. He’ll look good in jeans or a tux. A personality that will jump at my beck and call. And, one who is going to escort me wherever I want to go, when I want to go.”

“Having a tough time finding a guy to fill this description?”

“It’s a tough world I face every day, Ray. I’d like to think one of your species might step up.”

“I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this, La Flor. How long have you been thinking about an administrative assistant?”

“Since the breakup. I’m not getting enough sleep with everything I have to do. You might think of picking up a bit of the slack.”

“What do you do, La Flor, besides giving me a difficult time? Do you think you could fold, sort, and deliver clothes after they come out of the dryer.”

“No can do, Ray. That is one the ten worst jobs in the world. It’s a big time stress producer. I’ll ruin my nails. The heat from the dryer will damage my skin. When I took this job as your alt ego, there was nothing said about folding, sorting, and delivering clothes from the dryer. No alt ego in her right mind would accept such a job. Notice I did not say “his” because we all know that male alt egos are often not in their right minds, so they might accept the job.”

“Just tell me a couple of the things you do that keep your plate full.”

“I’ll give you the biggee. I have to spend a google of time in front of the mirror making myself look beautiful, tough, and edgy. Remember, I am La Flor, PI.”

“You will not let me forget you are La Flor, PI. What else do you do?”

“I consult with my friend at the mystery writers blog.  We go out for coffee at Starbucks. They make a much better cup of coffee than you do, Ray.”

“That one hurt. How much time do you spend at Starbucks?”

“It depends. We might be there all day if there are any good looking, unattached guys hanging around. It’s a full-time job looking for the right guy. They are a rare find in your species.”

“How about cooking meals once or a week?”

“That is so old school, Ray. Have you heard of the code word restaurant?”

“What about vacuuming.”

“I prefer to get my exercise at the gym. You never know when I’ll need a good-looking guy to spot for me as I lift weights.”

“I suppose cutting the grass is out of the question?”

“Yes, it’s out of the question. So is sweeping the floor. So is cleaning the bathroom. Do you think the Queen of England does any of these things? And, do you think any of the first ladies have ever done any of these things? Case closed.”

“Are you comparing yourself to the Queen of England? Or, to the first ladies?”

“Oh no, I have so much more going for me.”

“Can you see how my plate is full?”

“I think I just entered a parallel universe.”

“I don’t have time to go there.”

“Where?”

“The parallel universe. I forgot to mention with everything I have to do, I don’t have time to waste in some parallel universe. Is that down by The Gap? Are we done? I’ve got something important to do.”

“What’s that, La Flor?”

“I need my piece of chocolate so my heart will be healthy. I’m going to take a box of chocolates and go to see my friend at the mystery writers blog. We will have chocolates, something to drink, and good conversation. I’d love Pasta tonight, ciao.”

“Ciao?”

Each day life fills us with surprises. Some we embrace with open arms, others embrace us whether we like it or not. Getting upset over life’s unpleasant surprises doesn’t help solve the problems they present. Identifying constructive ways to work through or around our problems is an emotionally healthy path to follow. 

* 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.

 

 

 

 

 

Please Don’t Take My Coffee

by

Sometimes the simple pleasures in life are the best pleasures; like sitting down at my breakfast bar enjoying a hot cup of dark roasted coffee. I like my coffee in a clear cup that way I enjoy the variants of the coffee’s colors. I smell the aroma of cocoa and the smokey scent as it wafts up to my nose. I anticipate my first sip the way a young child anticipates Christmas. As I’m bringing my cup to my lips, I hear…

“Ray,  Ray don’t take that sip. Hand me your cup, por favor,” said La Flor*.

I hand my cup to La Flor. She takes hold of it. Steps away from me and simultaneously grabs the coffee pot. She carries my cup and the pot of coffee to the door leading to the patio.

“What are you doing, La Flor? Leave my coffee alone. Don’t take it away from me. Why are you wearing sunglasses? The sun is barely up?”

“My sunglasses are a statement any time of day. The coffee’s mine, Ray. It’s all mine. Don’t dare follow me. I’m desperate. I need it all.”

“Please, La Flor don’t kid with me. I’ll get a caffeine headache. I’ll have the shakes by 9 a.m. I’ll be mean-tempered by 9:05 a.m. I won’t be able to finish my blog.”

“I’m saving your life.”

“You are not saving my life,” I said.

“Am too,” she said.

“Are not,” I said and wished I didn’t say it. When am I going to get out of third grade?

La Flor had one leg out the door, her butt pushing the door open. Her eyes darting between the patio and me. She said, “Am too.”

I had to break the cycle of silliness. I said, “How are you saving my life?”

“I’m saving you from someone who could be potentially dangerous if she didn’t have a lot of coffee this morning.”

“Do I know this person?” I asked.

“La Flor PI doesn’t want to answer that question.”

“Why are you talking in the third person?” I asked.

La Flor took a quick look around the kitchen, then said, “I only see you, Ray. Then, of course, there is me, whom I can’t see because I can’t hold a mirror, coffee cup, and coffee pot at the same time. I don’t see a third person. I don’t understand why you said I was talking in the third person.”

“You’re taking this too far, La Flor. Take my XBox. Take my iPad. But, please don’t take my coffee.”

“Too bad, Ray. It comes with the territory of living in the same quarters with La Flor, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI. Think of me as your personal security.”

“I don’t recall hiring you as a bodyguard. I don’t recall hiring you for anything. What time did you get in last night?”

“Let’s not change the subject, Ray.”

I knew I was on to something, I pushed on, “Let’s change the subject, La Flor. Did you get in?”

“Let’s put it this way, The time I got in is the time I got in. Does this make sense to you?”

“La Flor, do you think you are talking to one of your alt ego males?”

“It was worth a shot, Ray. They’re not too bright.”

“How much sleep did you get?”

“La Flor, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI, doesn’t sleep when she’s on the job.”

“Please quit with the third-person. It’s going to give me the hives. Did you just get home?”

“I’m home now. That should count for something. I was out having breakfast with my mystery writer blog friend. We wanted an early morning breakfast. I knew this day would be action-packed trying to keep you out of trouble. I chose a healthy breakfast instead of eating something you might make for me.”

“You don’t think oatmeal and Greek yogurt and fruit are healthy?”

“Oh, heavens no, Ray. And when you add walnuts and flaxseed to your Greek yogurt, it’s a turnoff.”

“May I ask where you had breakfast and what you ate?”

“Sure, we got breakfast tacos at Paco’s Taco food truck.”

“I think I am catching on, La Flor. Let me guess, Paco’s Taco food truck happened to be in front of the alt ego bar. Is this a correct assumption?”

“You’re on fire. You didn’t need your coffee. I’m going to sit on the patio. I have a headache, my eyes feel swollen, and my tongue tastes terrible. Please don’t play music.”

“Are you hungover?”

“I like to experience all life has to offer.”

“Enjoy the coffee and peace, La Flor. I’m headed for Starbucks.”

“Thanks, Ray.”

One thing we share in common is imperfections. Recognizing my imperfections helps me to accept La Flor in her imperfections. She didn’t need a lecture or to feel shame for her long night or hangover. She was being who she is and figuring her way through her alt ego life in much the same way as I am figuring my way through life. We all need more understanding and lot less criticism.

* 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.

 

 

 

 

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

by

I open the door to La Flor’s room. She’s lying on her bed in a fetal position, her pillow covering her head. Her iPad blaring blues music.

“La Flor* what’s wrong?” I said.

Her muffled voice said, “I don’t want to talk, Ray. Leave me alone go away.”

“No, I am not going to leave you alone until you talk to me. I want to know what’s wrong. You are not a blues music kind of girl. You walk and talk with the beat of life kind of girl. Now get out of the fetal position and let’s go into the kitchen and have some coffee and talk about whatever is bothering you.”

Grudgingly, Flor untangled herself from her fetal position and sat up on the edge of the bed.

I took a look at her and said, “I think you should go to the bathroom and freshen up a bit.”

“Do I look that bad?” La Flor’s eyes raised to meet mine.

“Yes,” I answered. I knew right away, I said the wrong thing. It’s a species thing. I got to work on it.

“Are you going to put that in the blog? I don’t want my readers thinking I had a bad look.”

“Too late, it’s already in,” another male faux pax.

La Flor rose from the bed, went to the bathroom, turned to me, and said, “Is there any ice cream left? What about the chocolate cake? I think there were couple Fudgsicles left.”

“You cleaned up the ice cream. You licked the crumbs from the one-third of chocolate cake that was left until the plate. The Fudgsicles sticks have no chocolate stain on them.”

“Can you send out for pizza?”

“You can’t eat your way through this.”

“I can try.”

“Do you know how much weight you will gain if you keep this up?”

“If you’re good friend, you will write that no matter how much I eat I don’t gain an ounce.”

“I’m a good friend, but not that good of a friend. You’ve got to get control of yourself. Now go freshen up and we’ll talk.”

“10 minutes later I knocked on the bathroom door, “La Flor you have to come out of the bathroom.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to face the world.”

“I don’t have anything to live for.”

“Coffee and a snack are ready for you.”

The bathroom door opened. La Flor stepped out. I gave her a smile. She walked past me into the kitchen.

We sat at the table.  La Flor and I both have filled coffee mugs in front of us.

“Where is my snack?” she said.

I walked to the refrigerator and brought out a small bowl of blackberries and strawberries.

La Flor stared at them, then said, “At least you could have had chocolate covered strawberries and chocolate covered blackberries.” She got up, went to the cupboard and pulled out a jar of peanut butter.

I said, “Okay La Flor, spill the beans what is it, I have a feeling it is guy trouble.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, I could hardly tell anything was bothering you.”

“I do hold my feelings well.”

“Yeah, it was a wild guess on my part,” I said.

“I got an email from Jack.”

“And, what did Jack say?”

“He said he was thinking of getting a court order to have me cease-and-desist from stalking him.”

“Were you stalking him?”

“No, I was not stalking him. He mistook my 300 texts a day as stalking.  And, only 100 texts each day were selfies so he wouldn’t forget me.”

“It appears that your relationship is over. Look in the mirror, you are Leflore, beautiful, tough, and edgy, PI.”

La Flor pulled the teaspoon full of peanut butter away from her lips and smiled. She said, “Ray, you are right. He’s getting to be old-school. I’ve got to set my sights higher. He probably goes to bed at 9 o’clock. My day is just beginning at that time.”

“You’re a night owl.”

“That’s when the action starts, Ray.” La Flor looked over to the trash basket and said, “Did you eat all the cake and ice cream? You didn’t save me a Fudgsicle? I have a suggestion for you.”

“What is it, La Flor?”

“When you go to the Y, spend two hours at full speed. Maybe you can cut half of those calories off.”

“Maybe so La Flor, maybe so.  What are you going to do?”

“I’m texting my friend at the mystery writers blog and seeing if she wants to go out with me tonight. There’re lots of fish in the ocean.”

May the good Lord have mercy on the male alt ego species.

We all have down times. We all slip into depression. That’s where friends count. A friend who will be there with us. A friend who will not judge us. A friend who will listen quietly. And, a friend who will help lift us out of the darkness and into the sunlight.

* 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.

 

 

 

 

 

I Will Never Understand Your Species

by

“Ray, I’ve come up with a great idea for your blog today.”

“This ought to be good, La Flor*.  Last time you suggested a blog topic, you wanted me to write about the health benefits of wearing Christian Louboutin high heels. All I could think about were the impending lawsuits.”

“Start thinking about an attitude shift, Ray. Your blogs need to be edgy. They’re not. Your blogs should be groundbreaking. They’re not. Your blogs need to focus on the alt ego market share. They don’t.”

“Thanks for the blog critique, La Flor. The alt ego market is virtually untapped.”

“Now you’re thinking.”

“Okay, La Flor, I’m game, what is your idea for today’s blog?”

“La Flor, PI is on duty 24/7.”

“I get that. That’s your idea?”

“No, that is not my idea. But, because I am on duty 24/7 I found the dirt on your species that is going to make you World famous.”

“I have no desire to be world-famous.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“If we keep going, I’ll have my blog. You have dirt on my species that no one knows about? Do you know what you’re talking about?”

“Ellen and Oprah will be all over it. Movies will be on Oxygen. You’ll need an agent. I have an alt ego friend who’ll do me a fav and take you on”

“Fav?”

“You’ve got to start thinking and talking Hollywood, Ray.”

“Okay, I’ll think Hollywood, if it will help us get to the end.”

“When we went to the Y today to work out, I discovered something about your species that no one knows now but me.”

“Are you sure This is going to be new and groundbreaking?”

“I made videos with my iPhone to show on E!”

“I didn’t buy you an iPhone, where did you get it?”

“One of my friends at another blog understands how tight you are with money. She had her creator write me in a blog and give me an iPhone.”

“Wait a minute, you were written in the blog without my permission.”

“No, they had your permission, I signed your name to the permission slip.”

“You forged my name, then took photos of my species. I hope you didn’t go into the locker room.”

“What kind of beautiful, tough, and edgy private investigator do you think I am?”

“I plead the 5th Amendment.”

“I didn’t go in the men’s locker room. But, I did observe eight of your species for 20 minutes. And, when I give you this information it’s strictly on the QT.”

“I can hardly wait,” I said, trying to keep myself from dozing off.

“All eight of the members of your species were lifting weights.”

“That’s not unusual at the Y. I don’t consider that groundbreaking or earth shattering.”

“Do you know what they were doing while they were lifting weights?”

“I have no idea. I was busy on the elliptical machine. And, BTW watching ESPN.”

“Your species is narcissistic. Each of the men, while they were lifting weights, was staring at themselves in the mirror and watching their muscles go up and down. I don’t understand your species. Do they think that that turns women on?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your species.”

“Oh, for heaven sakes, Ray. No, it doesn’t turn us on.”

“Give my species a bit of a break, La Flor. There are few things in life we truly enjoy. Football, Fantasy Football, the NFL draft, waiting for football season, and watching our muscles while we lift weights at the gym.”

“I will never understand your species.”

“Don’t even try La Flor. It’s a mystery, even to me; and, I’m one of the species.”

Trying to understand why someone does something is a natural human phenomenon. Yet, it often results in faulty conclusions, incorrect judgments, and inaccurate responses. Even where the relationship is trusting, open, and honest, both parties may never fully understand the why of behavior. If it causes problems, resolve not to do it again, ask forgiveness, reconcile, and move on.

* 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.

 

I’ll Have a Margarita

by

“I am bored Ray. Let’s do something other than blog, blog, blog.”

‘What do you suggest, La Flor*? You got your start because of a blog and now you’re turning your back on it? It smacks of being a bit ungrateful, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. You don’t listen to the same song all the time, do you? I am so tired of you playing the same songs every morning over and over again. I’ve memorized all of them.

“I like those songs. Besides, you don’t sound like George Strait.”

“It’s the same food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Today’s Friday, and I already know what you’re going to cook for Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. How about the time you leave for the Y? Shall I continue?”

“Stop. I get your point. What do you suggest we do to break the routine?”

“Let’s go to the Riverwalk. You can order your iced tea. I’ll get a margarita. And, we will people watch and make snap judgments.”

“A Margarita?” I asked.

“What other kinds of drink do you suggest for a beautiful, tough, and edgy PI on the San Antonio Riverwalk?”

“How about ice water with lemon?”

30 minutes later we were sitting under red, white, and green umbrella at a table next to the San Antonio River on the Riverwalk. Crowds of people passing by looking for an empty table. Good luck to them and the Red Sox. It’s a good thing I’m writing this blog. I made sure we got a table with a view so we could make our snap judgments. Crowds of people passing by looking for an empty table. Good luck to them and the Red Sox. It’s a good thing I’m writing this blog. I made sure we got a table with a view so we could make our snap judgments.

A mariachi band was playing close by. I like mariachi music. There’s something about it that will never make the top of the charts, yet, it tugs at the heartstrings – especially when you’re writing a blog. When the song ended, the leader of the mariachi band came over. He took off his sombrero and bow, then said, “Senor, would you like us to play a haunting romantic melody for the señorita and you?”

I was about to say no, when La Flor said, “Perfecto.”

I wondered where La Flor was picking up her knowledge of the Spanish language. Within seconds, a trumpet player, a violin player, and a guitar player who doubled as a vocalist surrounded us. We were the center of attention on the Riverwalk. I wanted to crawl under the table. La Flor moved her chair closer to me. I looked at her and said, “You’re embarrassing me.”

She grabbed hold of my arm. I removed it. She grabbed hold of it again. With my other hand, I reached into my pants pulled out a $20 and asked the leader to move on. A wave of the sombrero, a bow, and thankfully La Flor released my arm to applaud.

“You are not my girlfriend,” I said.

She said, “I’m a girl, right?”

“Right,” I answered, too blind to see the sixteen-wheeler approaching me at 110 miles an hour.approaching me at 110 miles an hour.approaching me at 110 miles an hour.

“I’m your friend, right?” she said.

“Right,” I answered and switched metaphors. ‘Houston, Houston,” my mind screamed, ‘I have a problem.’ Only problem, NASA isn’t reading my mind.

I fell head first into the fifth-grade trap.

La Flor said, “Then I’m your girlfriend.”

“What about Jack Reacher?” I asked.

“What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said.

“How many margaritas have you had?” I asked.

“Not to worry, Ray. The chips and salsa absorb the Marguerite.”

“What are you talking about?”

La floor didn’t answer me. She took one more sip of her margarita and said, with the littlest voice I’ve heard in years, “Ray, I’m so happy you are the designated driver. La Flor PI is taking the rest of the day off. Can we go home?” Burp

We went to the Riverwalk with the intention of making snap judgments on other people. All in good fun. Not intending any harm. We didn’t make any snap judgments. There may have been many snap judgments made about us and deservedly so. I have no intention of making any towards La Flor. She’s sleeping so I can tell you she has a heart of gold and her rough edges, at times, obscure the wonderful person she is. That is true of all of us. Our rough edges often hide our genuine goodness.

* 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.

 

 

Girlfriends, I Need Some Help

by

“I’ve been thinking, Ray.”

“Okay, I’m paying attention. This is new territory for me. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about me.”

“I see we are going where no human being has ever dared venture before. And, I see nothing but Trouble with a capital T.”

“You writers think you own your characters, but I have a news flash for you …”

“I don’t watch cable news Sunflower. Let’s get back to you.”

“It’s not Sunflower. It’s Daisy. My personality is bland. I have a sharp mind. I keep you focused. But I am not an administrative assistant.”

“Daisy? What happened to Sunflower?”

“Oh how slowly you men are to understand.”

“What am I missing here, Daisy?”

“You are missing the whole point. And, if Daisy too difficult, you can call me D.”

“The point? I don’t see any point in this conversation?”

“Girlfriends, I need some help with this guy. Okay, I’m going to spell it out for you. I don’t do coffee, bathrooms, floors, or mirrors.”

“How about dinner on Mondays?”

“No.”

“Okay, I get the point.You’re here for the free ride.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning again, Ray. My personality is bland, bland, bland. It’s white rice. It’s borracho beans without the borracho. It’s chilies without the chill. See where I’m going? I’m adding a little spice.”

“I may have my eyes checked, but go on.”

“I’m adding a little spice to my life. In your language, I’m putting some chili pepper into my personality. Maybe a little sriracha sauce. I might even throw in a habanero or two. I’m thinking of a tat or two. Pretty cute they way I said it, right?”

“Can I use it in my blog?”

“Sure thing. Make sure you attribute it to me.”

“Well, this new spicy personality is giving you an independent streak.”

“Just in time for the 4th.”

It is our personality that makes us interesting. Different personalities add color and a bit of pizzaz to our world. It’s good we’re not all alike or think alike or act alike. When we are open to accepting another and his or her personality as he or she is, we become open to discovering new worlds and learning much more about other people and ourselves as well. Go for it Daisy, D, Sunflower, or whatever your name is. I can’t wait to see how you develop your personality.

 

A Haunting Voice

by

Somedays everything goes right–Today was not one of them. The day started out fine enough. The perfect cup of coffee. My oatmeal found the perfect place between too soupy too thick. And, my blueberries were sweet with a hint of tartness. I looked out the window, the sun was shining, the sky blue without a trace of clouds, and the birds darting in and out of the birdfeeder as if they were guided by air traffic control at O’Hara Airport.

And then, “Ray? Got a moment?”

The voice.  A voice that has been haunting me for the past couple of weeks. It was Z uh or whatever her name was today.  I was trapped. I had no place to hide. She was standing in the doorframe smiling holding a large clear coffee cup, filled with black gold. Black gold I made for myself. I can already feel my lack of caffeine heading toward a monster headache.

“Yes, Z uh?”

“It’s Me Lu, I think the name gives me an intriguing personality.”

“Oh, it does something for your personality, that’s for sure.”

“BTW, thanks for making coffee for me this morning.”

At that moment, it struck, right above the right eye. My right eye felt like it was the size of a bowling ball. I was heading toward the mother of all caffeine withdrawal headaches.

“Something wrong, Ray?”

“Where do I begin?” I said.

“How about beginning by listening to what I have to say.”

“Have a seat My Shoe. Like the old Frasier show, ‘I’m listening.’”

“It’s Me Lu. Do you think you should have your ears checked for wax plugs?”“My hearing is fine.”

“My hearing is fine.”

“I was online this morning. And, I found something very interesting.”

I raised my eyebrows, hope in my heart Me Lu might be thinking of moving on. I said, “A new boyfriend? A new alt ego dating site?  A new place to go with your friend from the mystery writers blog?”

“Wrong on all three.  There is a cleanup on the River today. I thought you and I could go and pitch in.”

“Why don’t you and your friend from the mystery writer’s blog, whom, by the way, I’ve never met, go. I’m busy with my blog.”

How are you going to meet people if you don’t get involved? The closest you get to getting involved is waving to neighbors when you take the trash out.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if you picked up your share of the load around here.”

“Too late, Ray. I already signed you up. I knew you would agree. It’ll be fun.”

“What are you doing? Leave that alone. I didn’t save my work. That’s just not right.”

“It’s the only way it could get you away from your computer. If what you were writing was like the rest of your blogs …”

We are a community people. As a community people, we can work together to build a stronger, sustainable, healthy community. Whatever our gift is, we can contribute it to our community through our involvement. I will take Me Lu’s advice and get involved. I will be doing something meaningful to benefit those who live in my community and me as well.

Lost: My Train of Thought

by

As hard as I try, I find it difficult to pay attention. In church, if the sermon is longer than six minutes, my mind wanders. Sometimes, it wanders as low as two or three minutes. I call it a right brain, creative problem. A colleague once told me I was ADHD. A leadership consultant used the Myers-Briggs Personality Profile to define my lack of attention. Babe knew this and would often say, “tell me what I said,” I’d give her a sheepish grin and say, “Try it again from the top.”

Not paying attention got me in trouble in school more often than a change in the weather. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested if you can follow the logic. It was more that I was interested in something else, something like baseball, football, and as puberty hit, girls.

“When do I get in this story?”

“Where did you come from? I didn’t have plans to include you in today’s blog.”

“You drift any further, Ray. You’ll be out to sea without a lifejacket.”

“I can swim.”

“It’s a metaphor, Ray.”

“What was I talking about before you butted in?”

“I don’t have to tell you. All you have to do is go back a few lines and read it.”

“Are you having a sugar low? Did you have your morning coffee? Did you not get as many lines in my blog as you like?”

“All the above and more.”

“I’ve lost my train of thought. I was on a roll before you showed up.”

“You wrote you were going to give me a bigger role in your blog.”

“Not in your dreams. Question, what is your purpose in my blog? I can’t figure out why I created you. I can’t figure out why I let you come by every day.”

“I’m like the tune you can’t forget. Let me hum it for you, Bbbbbb, Pppppp, or Cccccc. Ray loves all three. Catchy, isn’t it?”

“What did you say? I was thinking of Vegas.”

“When are we going?”

“I only bought a plane ticket for one.”

Each of us sees the world a bit differently. Each of us processes information differently. Each of us has a piece of the truth, but not the whole truth. It’s why we need each other. Our differences complement how we think and process. Respecting differences, listening to and learning from each other make our world a better place.

 

 

 

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