100 words a day

She asks how the workouts are going. I tell her they’re fine. I didn’t say “tough” or “killer” or “homicidal.” I should have.

She puts me on a treadmill and makes me sprint for a quarter of a mile. My chest constricts, my lungs contract, my eyes well up.

She increases the escalation. I negotiate – You can keep your higher escalation as long as you reduce the speed. She won’t consider it. My memory races back in time and locates the only asthma attack I ever had. I think I might die.

Seven hours later my lungs are still irate.

Every day since I’ve switched back to contact lenses, I’ve taken the precaution of bringing my glasses with me to work.

And of course it’s the first day I forget to bring them that I end up needing them, at the tail end of a ten hour workday for job #1.  Somewhere in the day a piece of grit rendered a lens unusable.

Driving home with one functional eye, to retrieve the glasses and then head towards job #2, I wonder how many of my fellow commuters are half blind and pissed off.

I really hope I’m the only one.

“Everyone has a compelling story to tell to someone willing to listen.” I’ve said that to our children so not only do they believe it, but they practice it. My quote is one of my many mantras. Lately, I’ve been around some people with stories both fascinating and frightening. Those kinds of stories I’m used to and usually seek out, but these new ones are different. The people who are confessing these incredible dramas have never been listened to before. That’s something I’m sure of. It’s not my listening skills- these people are just beat down, largely forgotten and alone.

Animals are a significant part of who I am. Our fortunes have allowed us to share our lives with some great ones. Our travels have put us fact-to-face with some extraordinary creatures; enriching our minds and capturing our hearts.

I volunteered this week at our local animal shelter and nothing, nothing prepared me for the overwhelming sadness I saw. I’m a hunter and fisherman and fully understand both wildlife management and the commercial use of animals. What I couldn’t believe were the amount of abused, neglected and mistreated animals, who were just put down for lack of a human family.

I begin looking at fifty this week and sadly I haven’t grown any wiser or smarter. I have a great deal more experiences and expertises under my belt, people think I know more than ever; but truth is, I’m more in the dark than I’ve ever been before in my life.

I have more worries and questions marks than I did at forty or even at 20. Things should be easier now, but I’ve managed to complicate my life when all I’ve ever preached was simplicity.

Back to basics. Be nice, tell the truth and flush the first 49 years.

It’d be impossible to sum up my ten days in Guatemala in 100 words…but I’ll try.  Toasting marshmallows in the lava at the top of volcano Pacaya, navigating vocabulary and currency in country where I don’t speak the language, meeting many great new friends and writers, workshopping my manuscript with one of my favorite authors, waking to a spectacular view of the deepest lake in the Americas and another volcano, exposure to a culture where possessions and makeup are not the priority they are here. 

Getting out of dodge for awhile and realizing I want to do it more often!

I’m not living up to my potential.  There, I said it.  Unlike the Army Reserve, I’m not all that I can be.  My book is frozen in digital limbo and does not rest in pestering me.  There it is; as a desktop icon and an incessant nuisance.  And I do nothing about it.

I deliver mail for a living.  There’s nothing exquisite, unique or me about that.  Yeah, my calves are amazing and I can buy a plane ticket without whimpering but I never said I wanted to be a mailman when I grew up. 

Am I the status quo?

Like any art student worth her solvent, I love the smell of fresh paint. Turpentine too. I’m tempted to dab it behind my ears.

Today I was heading into a meeting I’d been dreading for days. The hallway to the conference room was lined with construction workers. They’re tearing down walls, erecting new rooms. The adjacent room was almost finished. The noxious fumes of recently applied paint disarmed me. My scents memory took over and instantly I was a sophomore again, painting on the second floor of Kresge Hall, oblivious to the passing hours.

I paused and smiled: instant Zen.

R phones, wanting to meet up the weekend after next, and, as usual, I am dithering hopelessly. She says it’s fine, it doesn’t matter, that we’ll do it another time, although she’s not sure when she’ll next be free. I know her well enough to know different, and I can hear the disappointment in her voice.  

The waves of guilt wash over me. R is one my oldest friends, and, again, I have refused to commit to seeing her, on the ridiculous off-chance that the alleged boyfriend might be around.  

I hang up, burning with shame, wracked with miserable indecision.

A friend of a friend of a friend chain arises, leading me to a part time job interview.  Someone wants a computer network built for his small business.  We discuss his needs and my availability, and I promise to give him a quick estimate.

Doing my research, I realize what a huge job it’ll be.  Then I picture the tech support - frantic calls in the middle of the day, and decide it’s not worth it. 

Rather than just saying that, I make the estimate this ridiculous figure.  He accepts without batting an eye.

I guess I’m on the job.