acting as if

One of the greatest things that I learned from spending several years reading recovery books is the tool of role playing in different situations. For example, if life gives you darkness light a candle and think happy thoughts until one pops up. Meet the moment for what it is and don't freak the heck out at every little thing. I did that for a long time over bill collectors and money until I finally realized that there's only one of me, I don't have any assets so give it your best shot to recover what meager amounts I owe you. This does not include my hero Butch, the propane guy. I can't wait for the day when I get to deliver that cake and a big wad of cash to his place in Gates.

For the second day in a row, I ran into an elderly patient who was making his way from point A to test B and was lost as a goose. Kinda reminded me of my own dad in many ways. He depended on a wooden cane to support himself and shuffled along slowly searching for the cafeteria. Yesterday some of my co-workers came to his aid, filling his plate and carrying his tray to the table after he paid. Today was my turn to pay it forward. I was totally amazed at how good it felt to let go of everything else but those random minutes with that particular human who needed me. He still had on the hospital bracelet from his procedure the day before and was killing time until his doctor's appointment after lunch. I wandered from there to a meeting I totally didn't want to go to, and opted out on the free pizza. Oddly enough, I knew what was going on and was kinda sorta interested except for listening to that one who talks all the time. Ya'll know the type...there's one in every workplace.

It's "double your prozac" weather again here on the lane, cold and dreary. I did see a few more hailstones fall this afternoon but then nothing surprises me any more. Our local newspaper has sunk to a new low publishing mug shots of the latest suspect both in print and online. Doesn't matter that you've not been to court yet or even had the chance to consult an attorney. I figure that's just to lure their readers into the obituaries and classifieds. Since my friend Kathy retired from there, there's not been one piece of human interest entered in print. No wonder journalists want to get the hell out of the bidness. Well, except for Anderson Cooper who does it just for fun and big money because he's got a rich family tradition to keep up. Old money dies hard.

When I was at breakfast with my parents the other day, I noticed about half of their surviving SS class sitting at a table in the back and there they were with me, paying my way. None of them stopped to speak to us, proceeding instead across the back aisle to the VIP section. Our favorite waitress has been banished to the late night drunk on Saturday crowd, probably because she's the only one who has the patience to deal with them. Last time I was in the john ladies room, the dang soap dispenser was torn off the wall by some wild ass kid who had too much at the bar. Johnny is always up front, ready to open the door and help me get them in and out. He's been there since back in the day, an old timer about my age. He takes his mama to the dollar store too.

I'm smooth out of answers for any of it. Just keepin' the faith ^j^