Seems like life is that way at times. We slog through our routines most of our days, putting one foot in front of the other like donkeys leashed to a grist wheel. And we complain heavily about the routineness of our existences. Then, out of the blue, something happens to shake things up. Are we thankful for the change in the mundane rhythm of life? Are we excited about the flurry of activity? Or do we pine for the days when life was predictable, manageable, boring, even lifeLESS?
More than likely our reaction depends on whether it's raining big wet juicy blessings or golf-ball sized curses of hail (that's where the devil lives, if you're southern y'all.) Good things are far easier stomached than bad things. But good or bad, perhaps we can agree that there are long dry spells in our lives: uneventful, where did the time go? years, and then there are "holy tear drops from heaven, Batman, I'm drowning" monsoons.
It never rains. But it pours.
While trying to determine if the famous Umbrella Girl catch phrase was original to Morton Salt, I discovered that their first advertising slogan, circa Janie's timeframe of 1911, was "Even in rainy weather, it flows freely." Doesn't really roll off the tongue does it? Sounds like something I would write! While I understand the company's main objective was to convey that their product would not clump, even in highly humid conditions, I think they made a good decision going with the simpler rains/pours analogy. It is one of those sayings that extrapolates so well to life, thereby keeping Morton Salt on the tips of our tongues, so to speak, even in general conversation.
The danger, of course, is that we remember the saying and forget who said it. But by now you know that I digress. Back to the raining and the pouring.
The Release Party for Janie Mitchell, Reliable Cook has been scheduled, and it will be held, fittingly, at the historic Charleston home where Janie was a slave. Just as that was finalized, more events were added to September's schedule: a newspaper interview, two television interviews, a book signing. Two speaking engagements are on the calendar for October and November and a third one is tentative. I guess right now isn't a good time to request to be locked back into my harness so I can walk that circle again. Because that's really all I want to do, right now.
I don't want to be fearless, like Oprah tells us to be. Live your best life. Dream big. And then dream bigger. Seize the day and all that crud. It hurts to be stretched. The Rack of Life is scary and messy and uncomfortable to say the very least. Can't I just go sit in a corner somewhere and wait to die? Wouldn't that be ok?
Of course, that's an option. I'm sure countless numbers choose it every single day. I've been choosing it for most of my life.
But hopefully there comes a time (AGE 50. There's no getting around it. It's AGE 50) when you decide that you're going to at least try. You may fail. You may succeed. But if you never try, then that's the same as failure. In fact it's worse. It's squandering. It is a slap in my maker's face to choose to be a flower upon the wall, thumbing my stigma (that's a part of a flower; even biology mocks me) at the gift He has given me.
What about you? What gifts have you been given that aren't being put to their best use? What fear have you allowed to control your life?
At the Release Party I've been told I'll need to "say a few words." This is the Marketing Director's euphemistic way of informing me that I will be called upon to do some public speaking. Maybe I'll blow it. Maybe I'll blow chunks on the front row, because if ever there was a catalyst for Irritable Bowel Syndrome, speaking to a group of people is it for me. While I don't want to do it, and I fear failure, and I would rather hide in the closet until it's all over, there is a part of me that wants to try. I want to overcome my fear. I don't want it to control my life. And so I've resolved that, while it is raining, I will try to make the most of this time in my life.
Umbrella Girl's last hair and frock update was in 1968. I was 8 years old at the time and it never occurred to me until this week, researching for my Friday night blog update, that my mother had chosen that little girl's haircut for me. I was the poster child for raining and pouring and I never even knew. Thanks Mom. You should get out of the kitchen occasionally. Well, Umbrella Girl is all grown up now. Keep your bumbershoot; I'm going to walk out into this gullywasher, wherever it takes me. I am not that little girl any more.
And I'm certainly not that jackass walking around in circles.
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