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I’m a fan – a Jack Johnson fan. I’m still discovering him even though he may be so three years ago. I’m diggin’ on the surfer sage. And I can get sucked in to some acoustic guitar coupled with earthy folk wisdom and colorful language (aren’t I quite the music reviewer?). Anyway, he breathes an ocean breeze on my mood, fits a hammock under my fanny, and covers me in a soft shade on any spell we spend together. Here are some of my favorite lines from In Between Dreams (my cornball commentary in italics):
As if you needed more reason to think that I am a nutcase. I am going to share with you my own personal conviction about Diet Pepsi. I honestly can’t believe I haven’t divulged this tidbit before now. People who know me well already know what lunacy I am about to broadcast; they are shaking their heads in embarrassment for me but they love me anyway.
The 20 oz DP you purchase at a convenience store tastes far better than DP in any other form. I do not like Diet Pepsi in a can. I do not like Diet Pepsi from a concession stand. Not from a fountain, not on a mountain. Not from a cup, not with a pup. Not on ice, not with three blind mice. I do not like Diet Pepsi from a box; I do not like Diet Pepsi with a fox. Not here or there or anywhere. Oh, I’m sorry. I was having a Dr. Seuss moment, but you get the idea.
I go to my special Citgo Markette every day to buy 3-4 Diet Pepsi’s (I have seriously developed quite the rapport with my cashier friends). It is my vice, I admit (and before you go thinkin’ I’m too nuts, some of you are just as psycho about your $4.50 cup of joe, so there…). But in supreme seriousness, the gas station 20 oz has the best bang for your buck (plus 42 cents) – greatest concentration of fizz and burn.
Of course the conspiracy theorist in me believes that Pepsi has intentionally altered the taste to encourage me, the unwitting consumer, to buy the most expensive version of their product. They’ve won, I confess. But at least I’m on to ’em.
And for the record, I have had one friend confide that she too concurs with my theory (thanks, Neeter!). Think I’ve just stumbled upon Carson’s first science project – DP taste test, Hmmm…
I know. That’s a scary word, but I am one. I told you that in my last post, but here is further proof…
I am learning to use the air conditioner in my car. Seriously. Either the air conditioner is set on the coldest temperature and the most powerful air blowing setting or it is off. You see where I’m going with this?
I turn the air on highest and coldest and then I get cold (and I abhor being cold) so I turn it off. My husband, like any normal human being, continually adjusts the temperature and the air flow to achieve a comfortable climate. I go from sweltering to comfortable to frigid to comfortable to sweltering all over again. This cycle can be repeated innumerable times in hopes of enjoying the fleeting perfect temperature every so often.
That’s just dumb!
So – after Chris pointed out (in a most gentle and loving way) how asinine that was – I became intrigued by the whole concept of manually regulating the temperature in my car. I had honestly not ever considered such manipulation of the air controls. I am now reticently wading in to the waters of climate control on the hunt for the ever elusive perfect temperature, not stuffy – not arctic.
For an extremist like me, that’s progress, my friends…
So…. (sigh), there are some days when life throws something at you that knocks the wind out of you. Monday was one of those days for me. Caught me so off guard that I was blank. In the eternity that transpired before I could catch my next breath, I stood in a vacuum. There was nothing going on in my head, nothing going on in my heart – not one thought, not one emotion. I did not know what to say or think or feel or do or pray. I did not cry; I just stared vacantly.
And then I began to thaw and my brain started clickin’ out questions; it was still a while later that my heart began to spew out a buffet of emotions: angry, sad, worried, afraid, and then angry again. And then sad again. A Lazy Susan of feelings served up in rapid succession.
And then I got on my face and sought Truth over the issue and wept.
And then I scurried. I got busy being busy. I’m a fairly frequent runner, so I outran my thoughts and feelings and questions and worries for the rest of the day. Best workout I’ve had in a while. There was a grey blur of emotional “stuff” that followed in close behind as I zigzagged through my day. Bobbing and weaving and running, and I have to say that they never caught me. I scurried from one random activity to another just keepin’ the lead. Frantic but out in front of the pack.
There was a fatal flaw in my plan; I eventually had to stop – late that night. Exhausted. As I finally lay down around 1:30 am, they caught me and attacked viciously. My eyes would not close; my soul would not settle; my mind would not stop. I slept little.
Yesterday I moved slower in a healthier state of processing. I marinated in it all day and continually sought Help.
Today I am digesting.
May I ambiguously ask for your prayers? He knows where they need to be applied.
