more conversations with my mom

Discussing her impending retirement (as in today was the last day of work for her–ever–in life. Have I mentioned I’m jealous?):

I’m too old for this ish.

But, my dear mother, you are not too old to say ish. So, I have to say that bodes pretty well for this retirement of yours.

Felicidades to my amazing mom.

more awesome conversations

(This one from work.)

Me: Hey, C—-, I’m trying to get some support for this charity boxing idea I have.

Coworker 1: We’re doing charity boxing here?

Me: Well…no. But…don’t you think we should?

Coworker 1: Are you volunteering to fight?

Me: Of course.

Coworker 2: Her volunteering is not the problem. She’s also volunteering her opponents.

Me: (to Coworker 1): Just think about it. Me and you-know-who in the ring. Just picture it. I wouldn’t even need that long. Think how many problems that would solve.

Coworker 2: I don’t like where this conversation is going…

the second conversation

Me: I’m really disappointed in  myself because I drove past BevMo at least seven times last week, and I never picked up that blueberry ale.

Mom: You’re going to go nuts in a place like that.

Me: I don’t think so. I haven’t been drinking really. I can’t drink and run this much.

Mom: Well, you know you should always keep a supply of liquor.

Me: For what?

Mom: To clean wounds.

the little engine resurfaces

I think I’ve told this story on this blog before, but it made me laugh so hard on Sunday night. And now that I know that it’s all worked out and I’ve lived to smile about it, I’m happy to report its great success.

So, my father would ask me up until the age of eighteen or so, “What did the little engine say?”

Every time I wanted to quit or I was stressed out, he would ask that question. “Ahhhh,” I would say and look at him, probably irritated, refusing to answer.

“What did the little engine say?” he’d ask it again.

I’d sigh a little.

“I think I can. I think I can,” I would say.

I’m basically working three part-time jobs. There are times, though, when one becomes a little closer to full-time. I saw that coming on Sunday.

“Four days,” I said to a friend over dinner Sunday night. “I can handle four days. I can do it.”

And as I drifted to sleep, I repeated to myself the same thing I used to say to my father. I think I can. I think I can.

But, boy oh boy, has it been an interesting four days. I will say this, though, exhausted sleep is some of the most amazing sleep ever. And I am happy to report that I have  accomplished every single thing that I needed and wanted to in the past four days.

Amazing what the power of positive thinking can do for a person!

on my mind

I came across (and by came across, I mean was handed by someone who from this point on will be referred to as my spiritual adviser) the DVDs of Bill Moyer’s interview with Joseph Campbell: “The Power of Myth.”

Campbell says something to the effect that our brain is a secondary organ. The soul and heart are first. And when we give the brain priority, we create a schizophrenia in ourselves.

I don’t have my reflection on this yet, but just wanted to say that it’s been on my mind for the past 24 hours.