my original title,
upon some contemplation,
I'm beginning to realize that simple pleasures
in my life are anything but simple.
No snob with comfort food - if it makes me happy, it finds its way onto my bulging list. Complications develop though, when my bulging list has me bulging at the seams. Pig out time verses liver rest time, piously nutritional verses sinfully non-nutritional, guilt trip marathons verses freedom of eating indiscreetly, and on and on and on. My complex list of simple tasty delights that are lounging in my pantry and fridge this night...two coveted filets of perfection, frozen organic sweet cherries, potato & onion pierogies, extra thickly cut bacon, flavor bursting organic provolone cheese, almond biscotti dipped in bittersweet chocolate, pineapple greek yogurt, sara lee frozen cinnamon rolls, ghirardelli dark chocolate squares, haagen-dazs rum raisin ice cream, and ghirardelli premium double chocolate hot cocoa.
A simple pleasure I give freely, as thanked people are happy people, and happy people make my life sing. Complications set in when I so selfishly want to hear some thank you's being freely tossed my way. Hey...I stitched up a baby quilt for one of my sisters over 40 years ago, and I'm still waiting for that thank you note telling me whether or not she even got that dang thing I slaved over for so many months. I can count on two fingers the number of times any of my not so crappy gifts have ever been acknowledged by family. Shame on you all.
Simply put, work wise, I give 100% and I try to take 100%. Complications set in when people start talking the lingo 110, 115, 120%...come on folks...there's no such thing as doing more than 100%...it's a mathematical impossibility, an unattainable improvability!!! If everyone does 100% work, but in reality, when it is compared to my 100%, they are in actuality only doing 80% work, then I suppose it does appear that I do 120%; and I have to admit that I have used this concept quite effectively with my bosses over the years...they seem to always buy into this dorky way of thinking.
These 4,6,8 lane highways give me pleasure in being able to connect a to b in the fastest method possible, BUT navigating these monstrosity structures requires a complicated mind that is capable of thinking and imagining 20 things all at the same time. I have pet peeves, and pet peeves of pet peeves of freeway calamities, but the irkest of the irkers is being so unfortunately stuck behind a 45 mph poky auto leisurely traveling up the on ramp to merge into 70 mph semitrailer truck traffic.
A very long time ago in a far, far away land, a husband crazily thought he would do better with a different woman from the one that sported his ring and was plummeted left and right with his lies. Therapy didn't save this marriage worth leaving, but enlightenment to the powers of creative revenge was worth every dollar those sessions sucked right out of my life. Two simple words that became a complicated concept to put into practice for this little miss goodie two shoes. Talk about writers block...I had thinkers block, possibly because I needed to feel satisfied, without being found out. I did manage perfection, I think...no one has ever died from oatmeal raisin cookies containing pulverized dog biscuits, have they?