Of all the negative emotions, resentment diminishes us the most. It brings unwarranted anger toward those who have something we want, and self-pity for ourselves. It drains us of the energy we need to change our lives and work toward goals. Resentment keeps us in a rigid judgment of who “should” and who “should not” achieve success; all “should” attitudes are pointless, breeding discontent and wasting time. Above all, resentment is ugly to see and even uglier to feel. When I’m resentful, I feel hatred toward others and myself.
Today, I ask for the humility to accept my limitations, without resenting others who have exceeded them. I ask for the courage to pursue my own goals, not comparing myself to others.
Friday’s for the birds
My boys. Two of them, anyway.
A few months ago, Seamus wrote an essay about why he liked birding, and sent it in to the Indiana Young Birders contest. It’s a very generous contest, indeed. Today his prize came in the mail! A brand new hardback Kaufman field guide! Since he said in his essay that he would share it with his brothers, I tried to get all the guys in the pic, but the only taker was wee baby Sean…or, as you can readily tell, wee baby-as-tall-as-his-older-brother Sean. They are posing in front of sunflowers that burst forth from the missed seeds in my birdfeeder. Black oil sunflowers that I bought for Mr. & Mrs. Cardinal, of course.
Well, that made the day very nice.
I’ve had this unbeckoned psychic fog hanging around me. I’ve tried to blame it on Holiday World fatigue, a lack of meat in my diet one day, allergies, and now I’m wondering if it’s related to being overscheduled with the house-for-market projects plus releasing a book plus a million other things, the least of which is not the family dynamics and just living surrounded by haters, 24/7. Whew!
I asked myself a few minutes ago “Is this depression? Is this what depression feels like?” I haven’t struggled with depression since I stopped doing things that sabotage my happiness, praise Jesus. I don’t believe I’m depressed now.
But I am tired. And I don’t really know how to stop working. This morning I worked on my book cover for Troll Or Derby, I did some bitching & moaning online about some specific assholes, but honestly? I watched the movie Boys and Girls this morning by choice. Subjecting oneself to Freddie Prinze Jr is not the sign of a healthy mind, boys and girls. Not at all. Not to mention the female lead, with the personality of a used Kleenex. Egad. What was I thinking?
She’s not a bad dancer, for being a Kleenex. Honestly, I think the dance scene is the only reason I wanted to see the whole movie. Maybe I secretly wanted more dancing. Or that Biggs guy to hump a pie or something. I don’t know. Whatever.
So, yeah, I decided to take the kids and their new bird book out for lunch. We picked up Big Macs and had a picnic at the park, where we spotted this chicken for the nth time:
Okay, so it’s not a chicken, but compared to the ducks & geese, it looks like one. We now own the following field guides:
The thing is, that GD chicken isn’t in any of them. He’s some kind of water fowl. He’s one of a kind at the lake at Community Park. I wonder if he blew off track from foreign climes. I can’t find anything like him online, either, but I find him easily enough, begging for french fries from under the picnic tables, no sweat. Such a peculiar bugger with webbed feet and claws, and that red thing on his head. His body is about the same size as a Canadian Goose, but obviously his neck is shorter, like a duck’s. His beak isn’t duck-shaped, exactly, either.
It’s like that Sarah McDucklin song, right?
Oh, you’re waddlin’, building a mystery…poaching fries, gobblin’ them down.
That’s how it goes, right?
Wow, that song reminds me of the first time Tim and I dated, umpteen million years ago, when I almost taught myself to juggle listening to surfacing 24/7 while I survived my first divorce…and Tim succeeded in learning to juggle which was a feat, considering how uncoordinated he is. I still can’t even come close, I’m just awful at it.
Where was I?
Did I mention I locked my keys in the car?
We finished up at the park when I’d met my capacity for keeping GiGi from crawling through the duck poop with any chance of success, and I dropped off the boys at their Dad’s. Then, thinking myself the thoughtful and efficient type, I swung by the video store for copies of John Carter and this gem:
GiGi had finished demolishing the theatre-boxed candy racks and pulling all the blu ray cases off the movie shelves when I realized…I’d locked my keys in the car.
What followed was a fun little bit of being sallied around town by my most recent ex-husband, oh, he of the second divorce. Thank God we’re friendly still. Tim would have left work to come get me and all that, no sweat, but Steve needed to get the boys’ water shoes, anyway, and they were at my house, so…
I’m okay, GiGi’s okay, despite the illegal ferrying around town without a carseat.
And Tim should be home any minute.
I don’t know if all that trouble did anything to lift my mood, but listening to Surfacing doesn’t hurt.
We are born
GiGi loves sinking her teeth into a good book!
I signed GiGi up for the Dolly Parton Imagination Library. It’s free, and each month, she gets a book in the mail. Sometimes board books, sometimes paperbacks, sometimes hard cover books like this one. And joy of joys, this month it is about birds!
Just read it to her, and she loved it. She laughed through the whole thing.
GiGi’s a fun baby.