Them that can – don’t and them that shouldn’t – do.

Them that can – don’t and them that shouldn’t – do.

     I know my English in the line above is poor. But it is the thought that kept running through my head as I hung up some laundry to dry. I’ve been sidetracked lately. Sidetracked with some things thrust upon me and some chosen.
     Without going into the boring medical issues I have been facing, I found out I have a torn rotator cuff (two places) requiring surgery but the MRI showed that the arthritis in the shoulder was far worse than the doctor thought so surgery really will not fix the problem. It would take a whole new shoulder replacement. NOT! I am opting for pain management and physical therapy. Enough on that subject.
      The other sidetrack from writing my blog more faithfully, is my new art class. I’ve been drawing. For years I have loved crafts and at one time I had so many things going that nothing ever got completed. That is when I had to decide what the one real love of my life was and without a moment’s hesitation I knew – writing.
     But occasionally I get the ‘crafty’ bug. I also realized with the affected arm that there are some things I can no longer do. So if I want to get that #1 best seller novel written, I better get on with it and save the arm and hand for the writing.
     Another sidetrack today was a movie. AT LAST ONE I CAN RECOMMEND! Hallelujah!  The Way, with Martin Sheen. I have a habit of taking notes when I watch a movie especially when one starts tugging at my heart strings; which this one did. So here are some feelings that this movie triggered.
     First, a short commercial. I bought myself something this week. I ordered myself a new coffee mug with the two new sayings that made me happy this past month. On one side, Please do not annoy the writer. She may put you in a book and kill you. And on the other side, Stop thinking so much and just get on with it. Absolutely what I need to see every day first thing in the morning. If I spent as much time DOING what I spend time THINKING about doing, I'd accomplish so much more.
     So this movie followed suite of where my thoughts have been lately.

Sometimes the people we meet help us do things we would not do otherwise.

Even if we could create our own perfect world, it would still have flaws.

When does life ever give some of us a pass to finally eat what makes us happy. There is a lot of happy eating in this movie.

    
     You’d think after 63 years of being hungry for the things I shouldn’t be eating, it would be wonderful to just eat anything that made me happy. That is what the title addresses. I wonder if the people in this would who restrict themselves the foods that they could eat without any guilt will one day open a menu and it will hit them – “I could have eaten anything I wanted and didn’t!” It would be nice to think someone out there might realize their good fortune and have a slice of pie for me.
     Back to the movie. Martin Sheen is the father of a son who knew he wanted to live life his way. And of course it cut across everything his father wanted him to do with his life. He chooses his own road and he takes off to walk a pilgrimage trail and ends up dying. This sends one of the biggest sidetracks life can hand us into his father’s life and the story grabs hold of you and doesn’t let you go. There are four main characters who are all oddly complicated, (smile) and yet compliment each other perfectly. My hat off to the author of this story. I love it when unusual characters are created and yet they are so strange they soon become strangely familiar.
      I try to see myself in the ones I would otherwise - write off. No pun intended. But what I love the most is they don’t stay strange or annoying. And that is what I think life could teach us most. Sometime it takes time with people to realize that you really do like them. And, then sometimes time just confirms what we thought in the beginning, we still don’t care for them.
     I am in the middle of writing two books. After ditching Not enough Nuts and Raisins, I am writing a child’s book incorporating my favorite gift, my tea pot with ‘feets’.  And another book that has come out of a longing to make that world where everything in it would have the things I love and the people I would love to have in my life. Howbeit perfect, it will have its turns and twists.  
     As I said once before, that is one of the marvelous things I love about writing. I can be, do, have, and go anywhere I want when I write. Fiction is the most wonderful place in the world to visit. In fact, I am going to go get something to drink and watch the movie, The Way, again. I don’t think I squeezed all the emotional nourishment I need right now out of it the first time. I highly recommend that you watch this movie.

How topics of our conversations change as we grow older

How topics of our conversations change as we grow older

I have been slipping on my blog writing. For the few faithful I do humbly apologize. But I have not had much to write about that did not include pain, pills, tests, Dr. appointments, Bengay and hot showers. All of which I am not going to elaborate upon.

But all that did get me thinking. I gave myself a good laugh the other day while walking down to get my mail. I wondered what some of the oldies I passed in the hall would think if my conversation included something other than the above mentioned. For instant, “Hey, do you want to Jitterbug to the mailboxes with me?” or “How about a game of marbles after lunch?” (They probable would think I’d lost my marbles.) Or maybe, “Been doing any good fishing lately?” “Let’s play hide and seek, NOT IT!"

Yeah, I know, I am pushing the boundaries of sanity here. But I think we need to listen to what we talk about as life changes. We go from kid games, to dates with boys/girls, hair dos and don’t, car models and movie themes, job résumés and job titles, babies and bills, vacations and  pictures of our kids and grandkids. Then something happens around the time a lady’s hair turns ‘blue’ and men become stooped over, pale and bald and we all do the waddle-walk like our mothers.

Luckily, or not, I did not pass anyone in the hallway to try out my conversations on. I doubt they would have thought it was as amusing as I did.

But on the flip side of my brain, I am taking a second session of the memoir writing class and right after it, there is a Painting and More class for seniors. When I woke up yesterday, all the above ailments almost won out on the vote to not go to these classes. Once the old bones got up and moving and a pain pill kicked in Arthur, Ben and I went anyway.

And I am so glad that I did! I am going to enjoy the art class even more than the writing class I think, or at least equally as much. I am going to tackle my fear of watercolors. All I might end up with is a rather large brownish watery mark in the middle of my paper, but I’ll call it, ‘The Puddle’, or Le`de plumea` de Compost pile.’ That way all the flowers you would have seen, you'll be able to imagine are composting on the paper.

Other people make watercolors look so easy. We will see. Hopefully I’ll be posting all my creations for your ‘looking pleasure’. After all it has to be better than listening to all the twinges and pains of growing older.