I crack myself up!

Really. I do.

Or, maybe I've just cracked...

Yesterday, I had to run an errand after I finished blogging, and I came up with a brilliant idea while driving back home. I laughed out loud at the thought of it. Which also reminded me of another time when I laughed at another brilliant idea... I feel a SIDE STORY coming on... Okay, time out... here's the SIDE STORY:

Quite some time ago, I was sitting at our kitchen table feeling so overwhelmed with all I had to do, and not knowing where to begin, or where to muster the energy to do it with. There was a pen and paper in front of me, I picked them up, and I started drawing. Pause...

(Okay, here's another SIDE STORY; try to keep up... I'm not sure when it was, second or third grade, my mom made me go see the school guidance counselor for some therapy. I was emotional and grouchy (sounds nothing like me, I know!) and I guess she didn't know what to do with me, so she made me go see the guidance counselor. You learn something new about me everyday, don't you? (thinking about this story yesterday, for the first time, I thought, "my mom really was a good mom, she didn't know how to help me, or how to fix a problem and she decided she was going to do all in her power to help me, and fix the problem, so she sent me to therapy." That's love.) I even remember my mom telling my doctor that I was her most emotional child. I would insert the word verbal instead of emotional, but to each their own. Anyway, so I had to go see the guidance counselor who was a funny looking lady who wore clothes from the 70's, (which I guess would be in style now, but not then), in her little office off of the stage. I remember playing with puppets, my mom being there sometimes, and that I didn't go for very long. I don't think anything really came of it, except a long standing joke between my mom and I. The guidance counselor was always like, "Draw me a picture to tell me how you feel." Even at that age I thought it was silly. So, this became a joke between my mom and I. Even as an adult, if I was sad or upset she would say to me, "Do you need to draw me a picture to tell me how you feel?" And, then we would both laugh.)

So that brings us back to the first SIDE STORY with me sitting at the kitchen table starting to draw. I was going to draw a picture of how I felt. I drew me, or a really ugly version of me, leaning over at the shoulders, with a frowny face, and I started making a list of words starting at my shoulders going up. Can you picture it? A pile of words starting at my shoulders, piled on top of each other, going on to TWO pieces of paper, just in words. While I drew, I laughed. Then I laughed some more when I decided what I was going to do with it. (Gosh, I sound crazy!) I was making a list of things that I felt I shoulder alone, responsibilities that seemed endless, too much to do, and that was making me lean over emotionally and physically. I then taped it up on our kitchen wall for John to see when he came in from working in the yard. I was working here in my workroom, and he came in, I heard him pause and then he said, "What is this?" And, I started laughing, really, really hard.

Fast forward to yesterday. Remember? I had a brilliant idea driving home, and it made me laugh?

I came home, immediately got some white paper and an orange highlighter and started counting my blessings, literally.

I kept counting. (I would take a picture of them, but I'm honestly too lazy.)

I envisioned me taping them up all over the walls to remind me, to help me focus on good, happy things. And, I laughed thinking about it. I laughed thinking about John coming home and seeing them. I kept laughing while writing my blessings. (Maybe I am losing my mind?) I started thinking, "it's already working." I don't care that life's not fair, I can deal with life, etc. Then, I went to put something in the mail, and it had already come and I received some unpleasant news that made me want to stop counting my blessings. I was not very happy...

I stood at the ironing board, (I was using it as my table to write my list) and stared up at the ceiling, I had no desire to count my blessings... I took a very deep breath and had to force the highlighter back in my hand. Ridiculous blessings started to cross my mind.

I'm grateful that we have a kitchen floor that all of those shoes can be scattered on.

I'm grateful we have a house that can hold all of this mess.

I'm grateful for the toilet that John needs to clean that we can use the bathroom.

I'm grateful I have a pen to write with.

Okay, so I got a little sidetracked, but I tried. But, at least for half the day I spent counting some real blessings, and laughing. It really did make me feel a little better.

Then, last night I watched the movie Seven Pounds with Will Smith. I totally cried (you would too). It helped me put things in perspective. Life could be so much worse. Yeah, it really is unfair, and the movie showed that, but it's really wonderful too. Talk about random acts of kindness!! Seeing the issues in that movie made me feel a titch ungrateful, and helped me see I really did need to count my blessings.

The orange highlighter awaits...