Vacations are to relax!   A re-set to be sure. Re-sent to re-set without resenting the recent recession, we released the ressussitiveness of restoration in remote resorts, reminiscent of reinventions reprised by rotund retailers on red-roostered roof tops, and….. we Relax.

Regal? No. Roadies.  We rolled on roads in our rugged roadster replete with refreshments, Ruffles chips, red apples and romaine lettuce stuffed with Real mayonnaise into ready-made sandwiches.   Non-repealed rewards points from real-life credit cards were repositioned from saved to spent and we rejoiced at our resourcefulness.

Really relax and don’t write? Ridiculous. Writing is its own reward.


Perceived Fear vs. Real Danger

I listened to Chris Hadfield’s TED talk today. He’s the one who went completely blind while OUTSIDE the space capsule miles above the earth’s surface. Um. Hm.. That’s probably something that would be a cause of fear for most people. He didn’t panic. He continued his work. His partner (you know, the buddy system—like in Boy Scouts and scuba diving) came to his side, made sure all was relatively calm, and Chris lived to tell about it. The other Boy Scout motto that slipped unseen into the speech, but I heard it very plainly, was “Be Prepared.” The astronauts had practiced all measures of scenarios, from “this is fun” to “this is the worst that could happen,” and everything in between. They were prepared for the “completely blind” incident… not specifically, but psychologically, allowing them NOT TO PANIC.

The point is… there is a point… had Chris Hadfield been unwilling to displace his perceived fear, and to prepare for the real dangers, he never would have seen the unimaginably beautiful vistas, nor experienced the gloriously satisfying accomplishment of his goal of being an astronaut. As I look at the perceived fears I have, I know that the real dangers are few. In fact, living is inherently dangerous, as no one gets out of it alive. No one.

Therefore, the best course is to practice and prepare for the worst so you can react appropriately when (and it usually does) the worst happens (only because that’s one of the unwritten rules of life and drama, for gosh sakes), and go for it. Whatever it is.



It’s a “first world” problem. We cleaned out our garage this last weekend. We had a saw. No. WQuestion Markse had two. Oops. Here’s another. We had six saws. How does this happen? How many saws do you need? Yes some were different — smaller, curvier, toothier — but some were exactly the same. Hammers, same. Too many of the same thing, and we wonder why the garage is full.

Here’s the deal. Stuff is buried in the garage, closets, drawers, attic. But you need one, can’t find the darned thing (because it’s buried) so you buy another. And then that one is piled upon. And you can’t find the first or the second. You buy another.

I would like to live in a world where we had one of everything. Where life moved at a pace where if you could not find something, you would continue to look because you had the time to look. And look some more… because there are not a lot of places to look, for one. And there is not a lot of stuff for another.

But wait. The other side is… you don’t have the money to buy another one. Hmmm. Third world problem. I’m not disparaging. Not bragging. Not rubbing anyone’s nose in poverty. No. I’m making a case for simplicity. Clarity. Serenity. Sustainability. I’m probably also threatening the world economy. How could we survive if all women had only one or two pair of shoes? Two outfits? One coat? Some people live that way, and their countries are usually poor.

I’m whining and I should stop. But I still hate multiples. Dang. How many do we need? When is enough enough?

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