My alarm went off at about 8:00 a.m. the morning so I laid there listening to the breeze and the birds, “ah..how beautiful, what a gorgeous day it’s going to be” I thought; mmm…ahhh… how peaceful. Wait…what’s that?
The peace was interrupted with this horrible, but all too familiar screeching from none other than my little man, Frank – my cockatiel down stairs. It was one of his insistent
screeches, as if he was yelling up at me and saying, “Mommy; you hear me? I want my ‘mommy and me time’ and I want it NOW; do you hear me up there?”
The whole world can hear you Frank. In fact, I believe our neighbors, who are trying to have their own ‘Mommy, Daddy and Me time’ are trying to eat breakfast. And, as a little added jocularity, are most likely swearing obscenities that I wouldn’t say to my dearest friend only to then ask their pastors for forgiveness for once they arrive at their prospective churches later in the morning. I jumped out of bed, got my robe on. And to my neighbors I can only say, “I’m sorry, he normally is such a well-behaved little guy; I don’t know what has gotten into him.”
So, I said my good mornings, kissed him on his little chest and placed him on my shoulder and off to the computer we went. He chirped as I typed. I was meeting one of my BFF’s for brunch. She was taking me out for a sort of belated birthday treat, then later I would go with my sister to pick up a Christmas tree. All in all a fairly busy day, but not too bad.
I checked my email, got directions to my girlfriends new place, printed them off – all the while I was telling old Frankie how handsome he was and what a good little baby boy he was being. “I’m so proud of my baby boy” I would continue and he would preen and look back at me so proud of his accomplishment.
I placed him back in his cage, clearly a bad move on my part as the screeching started immediately there after, but I had to get ready… Oh boy, what ‘s a girl to do? This girl got into the shower and got ready.
On my way out Frank got his favorite treat; millet. To those of you who don’t know, it’s like Lays Potato Chips for birds…they go gaga over their millet and Frank absolutely LOVES his; I mean you can definitely see it in his little eyes and if he had lips? He would be licking them…
Anyway, why am I going on about all this? I don’t know… I love the way I can take situations, like my little Frank and see the humor in it. I can actually imagine him talking back to me. I know, crazy right? Well step in line… there are many before you who feel the same way. But I do love my humor and coupled with my imagination? It’s downright invigorating! You really MUST have a sense of humor to get through these tough times.
Growing up, I got bullied – a lot – and as a kid who got bullied, often times humor was the only way out. Kill them with kindness was often the advice I was given. Hey, this was the 70’s, we didn’t walk around with hand guns or any automatic weapons. The worst we worried about was a black-eye (there were some gangs that had knife fights) but usually it was fist fighting after school.
As a really little girl, I guess you might say I was cute. But then I went through this really awkward stage – really awkward… downright ugly if you asked me. I was over weight (nothing was in the right spot), I had braces, pimples, and my body was producing excessive amounts of ‘natural oil’ in my hair – I was a mess.
One thing about my mother, I loved her to death, but we never, ever had “the talk”. Hey, if there was a class – Sex Ed, you name it – we were signed up for it; lickedy split. She didn’t care who was giving the course or saying the words, just “where do I sign?” and off we would go.
I remember the first year of my puberty, I found deodorant in my stocking. DEODORANT!!!
Yep, I guess old Santa was the delivery voice that year… “Dear? You have a bit of body odor. It’s natural for girls that come into the age when they become young ladies…” I was mortified. I mean, how are you supposed to know you have B.O. if nobody tells you? She was a pip.
Seriously, the best way I found to get through a lot of the nonsense was with humor. You just have to, if I were a comic, I would have scads of material. Why do you think so many of them are so damaged and so funny?
Anyway that’s my love for today… my humor.
I’ll end with a quote from one of my favorite comics; he truly was one of the best:
“The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.”
― George Carlin