"When making your choice in life,
do not neglect to live."
do not neglect to live."
-Samuel Johnson
It was three innocent little thoughts ... nano-seconds that were frozen in the auto-pilotness of my week. Three moments when I could have acted. Two of which I didn't. One which I did.
Autumn is in full swing, dancing like a can-can dancer lifting her skirts up over her head showing off her topaz golds, crimson reds and pumpkin oranges. If you were visiting this part of Ohio (having lived in the west or south), the colors alone would make you move here. It's like something out of an old movie. Something so charming and nostalgic. But it doesn't last long. The cold that comes with the colors, comes with a fury. I'd given up my short sleeves more than a month ago. It was back to sweaters, jackets, tights and boots. So, it was absent-mindedly that I kicked off my slippers on Monday (going outside to feed the rabbit) and slipped on my flip flops--when the moment froze for the first time this week. Ahhhh, my feet exhaled. I love my flip flops. They are summer. They are painted, sexy toenails. They are 2 inches between my feet and the cool, green grass or theraputic sand (when in Florida). But then reality set in ...and I carried on.
Today, another almost. Driving slowly across the quiet bridge where few cars go, I noticed the canoe on the bank. The one I see almost every day on my way to work. It always sits alone and empty. Some days, it calls to me more than others. Today I saw myself paddling south along the river in the quiet, almost silence. Just the cadence of the paddle cutting the water as the distance grows between me, my car, my computer and my overflowing inbox. Then reality set in with a glimpse of the clock ... and I carried on.
At the grocery store on Friday, I methodically checked off each item on my list--taking advantage of sales (and coupons) to save a few pennies. Traditionally, I stop by the magazines on the way out, pouring over the photography sections of the bridal magazines. "I could've shot that. I have that creative perspective," I tell myself. "If only I had a decent camera." Saturday K and I go to the local electronics store. I treat myself to a glance at the nice cameras. A salesman sees me, pulls the one I'm oogling over out of the case and shows me some of its features. "We have a finance special," he tells me. "Mmmm. I can't," I say. "I really shouldn't," I tell the clerk as I check out. But I do it anyway.
Autumn is in full swing, dancing like a can-can dancer lifting her skirts up over her head showing off her topaz golds, crimson reds and pumpkin oranges. If you were visiting this part of Ohio (having lived in the west or south), the colors alone would make you move here. It's like something out of an old movie. Something so charming and nostalgic. But it doesn't last long. The cold that comes with the colors, comes with a fury. I'd given up my short sleeves more than a month ago. It was back to sweaters, jackets, tights and boots. So, it was absent-mindedly that I kicked off my slippers on Monday (going outside to feed the rabbit) and slipped on my flip flops--when the moment froze for the first time this week. Ahhhh, my feet exhaled. I love my flip flops. They are summer. They are painted, sexy toenails. They are 2 inches between my feet and the cool, green grass or theraputic sand (when in Florida). But then reality set in ...and I carried on.
Today, another almost. Driving slowly across the quiet bridge where few cars go, I noticed the canoe on the bank. The one I see almost every day on my way to work. It always sits alone and empty. Some days, it calls to me more than others. Today I saw myself paddling south along the river in the quiet, almost silence. Just the cadence of the paddle cutting the water as the distance grows between me, my car, my computer and my overflowing inbox. Then reality set in with a glimpse of the clock ... and I carried on.
At the grocery store on Friday, I methodically checked off each item on my list--taking advantage of sales (and coupons) to save a few pennies. Traditionally, I stop by the magazines on the way out, pouring over the photography sections of the bridal magazines. "I could've shot that. I have that creative perspective," I tell myself. "If only I had a decent camera." Saturday K and I go to the local electronics store. I treat myself to a glance at the nice cameras. A salesman sees me, pulls the one I'm oogling over out of the case and shows me some of its features. "We have a finance special," he tells me. "Mmmm. I can't," I say. "I really shouldn't," I tell the clerk as I check out. But I do it anyway.
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