First thing is always to put the bread in the toaster, try to build the sandwich with the bread warm and the mayo loses too much texture. Clean the lettuce, slice the cheese, tomato and chicken. I despise mayonnaise, so I rationalize its use with some added fresh crushed dill, then spread the dijon mustard. Chicken, tomato, lettuce, firm press and French cut, a cling wrap fold with a clear top.
Slice a carrot and apple and put in a sandwich bag, then a tangerine in another, kids will much more likely eat them if they’re prepped. Two snack bars, a few whole almonds, and a napkin around three chocolate kisses.
Initially I was impressed at inspecting the pail upon arriving home that all of these delicious, nutritious contents were consistently gone, either I prepared good food or she had a fine appetite, perhaps both. All true, yes, but the fresh tasty prepped food was easily shared with other hungry children, and over time I found out half the sandwich was a daily prized trading item among her friends, the meat and bread type texted on the way to school.
[smiles] Of course that’s all right, okay so maybe I over-do it, but I see no harm here.
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Happiness is a choice. What a crock, who comes up with this? In the first place, who am I or anyone to decide what burdens can be cast aside for bliss? Our neighbor’s son committed suicide last year, am I supposed to tell her good cheer is a choice this fine day on her morning walk? After everything that’s happened and gone wrong I’m supposed to choose the sunny side while somehow ignoring the pressing demands of the present, are you kidding me?
Well, if whatever’s gone wrong presently consumes you I completely understand, and I wouldn’t dare to presume what path is deemed necessary to somehow get out of it. Some things can never be put aside for happiness in the present, not as we used to know it, sometimes it just can’t be done, we’ve all seen it. I would not dare to stand in judgment of those humans, either.
All very true, yes, but within the grasp of whatever mental chains hammered upon us a choice can still be made for good things I easily know. Choose to eat right, don’t hammer your brain with drugs, exercise, look after your hair and clothes, do small necessary things with good care. Choose to say hi to a friend some way, you’re not alone.
Not a prescription for happiness, I’m afraid, hell don’t look at me for one of those. Still, there’s a lot to that choice stuff.
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The Game of the Gods has lately interrupted evening ritual with east coast night games, but still I’m fairly diligent about the dinner table, somehow I got a good kitchen in this life with a nice table area and good furniture, I don’t like to waste it.
Always two lit candles on a lightly stained pine table, even if I have to go to the backup storm stubs from the garage. Fresh roses from April to October, I have 50 plants in three gardens out front. Good paper napkins, Portmeirion china, stainless cutlery. [sigh] How I dream of real silver for the dinner table.
She walks into the house after a day at school, I’ve got a scratch red sauce for pasta on the stove, “Mmm, it smells like food!” she says, sure that like always there’s something to good to eat for dinner at a real dinner table.
Why is that so important? I don’t know, but it freaking is. Things have gone so terribly not to plan and I’ve made a lot of ridiculous mistakes and choices ‘cause hell it just didn’t matter anymore, really, but if you’re stuck here put a good dinner on the table, for her it means so much.
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The past does not matter, live in the present. [opens hands helplessly] I ask you, how does such claptrap become such accepted wisdom among us? All of who we are and what we have done shimmers and mirrors in the present, without our past we are nothing. Doctors and cops, heh, does the past mean nothing to them? Do we cast aside all we have done and say to the world, trust me?
Heh. All very true, but the intention behind the absurdity is not to let your past consume the present from the evil. Somehow. It can be done, you know it’s so, souls with serious pasts have and do walk free and happy among us: Maya Angelou, Cecil Williams, Janice Mirikitani, Steve Gilliard. Stop that whining, privileged white boy, keep trying and it can be done. Somehow.
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Presently we are spending $10 million dollars an hour to wage war in Afghanistan while tens of million of our children go hungry and are abused with societal neglect.
Very cool that television has improved so much with shows like Cosmos and Through the Wormhole, but it’s still blatantly apparent how little we know and how short our time here has been. All that can be said for Truth when all is said and done is to take care of the children, one day perhaps the race will know and figure it out. All we have is the race and the children.
I’m not asking for purity or singularity, it’s very possible to be many things while ensuring the race. Just don’t tell me we can afford $10 million dollars an hour for war and violence while our children are neglected, I’ll never believe in what you allegedly strive for if you can’t get that right.
I won’t accept it, never will, and if somehow this has to become the norm of our people and politics I won’t shut up at how cruelly insane it is, no matter how hard it hammers my psyche. Stop the war and take care of our children, I will never believe in any politician until they fight for this.