You Want A Piece Of WHAT???

Some days I feel like everybody just wants a piece of me. In my perfect world the phone rings and the telemarketer genuinely states, “You have won a prize!” and they actually mean it! Granted, the Mormon boys always offer to give, but they ride up on their bikes in button-up, long sleeved, heavy starched white shirts and dress pants in temperatures above 90 degrees and offer to mow my lawn.  Really? There’s no catch?  Maybe one day I will take them up on it, only I’ll take a nap and ask them to knock on the door and wake me up after the lawn’s been mowed, bypassing the Jesus lecture.  Kidding.  I promise, I’m not dissing Jesus Christ and I would never do that to the Mormon boys. In fact, I strive every day to be Jesus-like.  I even keep a picture of him in the sun visor in my car, just in case you were in doubt, to remind me of the person I want to be yet knowing even then I have so little to give.  I could never actually take as much as a staple through my hand for the sins of another, much less a nail.

I’m just saying, whether it be someone wanting my time so they can sell me on their theory, an attempt to sell goods (“have you had your gutters cleaned lately?”), a friend having a meltdown, someone wanting advice, everybody wants a piece.  Even I am guilty.  I admit, I check the numbers daily, okay sometimes hourly to see if you’ve taken the time to read my post, or at least peek at my blog, which ultimately validates me. Your views tell me somebody is listening, that I'm not alone in the world.  So I’m not off the hook scott-free here.  It just seems that some days more than others, every little piece of me feels as if it’s been taken.  Even my own daughters call, and I love when my daughters call, but it’s usually to tell me about their stress, seldom to listen to mine; and then when it’s finally my turn…”Oh my Gawd, I just have to tell you what happened to me today….” I get the “Mom, let me call you right back” and they usually don’t, for a day or two anyway.  So there are those days when I just feel as though everybody wants a piece of me and there’s nothing left to give.  I know that sometimes you feel like that too.

But then, another weekend comes which means time to play "catch up" and all I want to do is run. I want to get out of dodge.  No, not just San Ramon, but from my grass which begs to be mowed (thank you Richard, by the way), the dogs that need to be walked and fed and petted, and follow me from room to room with pleading eyes….constantly. My dad who emails me with another business venture that he insists I spearhead and manage.  Even when my head isn’t spinning with requests, every room I’m in needs cleaning, mopping, dusting, the windows are dirty and sometimes, I just really wish I could - smoke a little cannabis, chill and not care.  Unfortunately, even that doesn’t work for me (bearing in mind that pot was legal in Alaska in the 1980’s); see Ravin v. State (1975).  All I know is that even the homemade brownies only made me want to figure out how to build a space station on the moon, or question whether we are nothing more than bacteria on the surface of the earth, which would ultimately mean we serve no purpose whatsoever other than to destroy our own environment.  I am pathetic.

And so….on Saturday night I told Richard, (because it was the weekend) – we ARE escaping; and it was wonderful. We ran away giggling like children on a mission of rebellion, and it cost us nothing.  We took blankets and pillows and movies with his laptop; we took books and newspapers and something to drink….and I left my cell phone at home.  Oh we ran alright, and then we watched a movie and fell asleep.  I slept deeper than I’ve slept in years. No one knew where I was and no one could call me for anything; not even if there was an emergency. That’s what ambulances and hospitals are for anyway. The doors on the world were closed to me for an entire evening and I learned something valuable for everyone. The world can’t take a piece of you when they don’t know where to find you.

I woke up refreshed, if only momentarily, singing my usual out-of-tune happiness songs, and energized enough to offer myself back to the powers that seem to always want a piece, and thankful that sometimes I even have something to give. 

Thank you God for the little trailer parked in my side yard. Amen.

Sweet dreams always GOOD dreams!

~Renae~