seeing the big picture

Yesterday me and Shaun got an early Christmas present. A new large flatscreen TV. It isn't quite as big as some of our friends...but it does dwarf our old one. Owen, in true male fashion, is in love with this piece of electronics that is as long as he is high. Everything, especially Diego, is better on the big screen.

This morning I checked my email and read one of those messages ( or comments) that just irks you. The kind you worry about and spend an hour working on your response. The kind that you make into a much bigger deal than it really is. The kind I spent a good portion of the day trying not to think about.......but still managed to take up alot of my thought time and energy on what is probably a non-issue.

So I am trying to take a cue from my new big TV. I am going to trying and think of the bigger picture. In the bigger picture this minor issue that is stressing me out really doesn't matter (much). It does make me aware of how quickly and easily we can get derailed. How much time we waste re-playing conversations or worrying about things we have little to no control over. Issues that don't mean much when I take real stock of what is important to me. Besides, if I am going to waste that kind of time.......I'd rather be watching McDreamy on the big screen.

Comments

pace yourself

Tonight I went running with a friend ten years my junior. I asked her how far she was running and when she said only about 1.5 or 2 miles, I teased her that I could go at least twice that far. And to just let me know when she needed to stop. I have been running pretty regularly for the last few weeks. It isn’t long but keep increasing my time and distance. I’ve stopped getting blisters. I don’t suck wind after five minutes anymore and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Thinking I might even be able to out run this girl who was so much younger and obviously in more shape than me. As we started to jog I told her that I run pretty slow. Like my husband used to walk beside me while I ran, slow. And she slowed her gait a little bit for me but it was still faster than I usually go. I was a little embarrassed and was not going to ask her to slow down again. So I just ran at her pace. I stayed close. And was fading fast. A little over a mile in I was ready to quit. Again, pride, which isn...

pursue something else.

Americans like the idea of happy. of pursuing happiness. It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independance. But I think maybe we should pursue something else. like love or joy or peace or contentment. and leave happy alone. Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry. And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, or squeals of delight when I walk in the door all make my heart sing. They make me happy. For a minute. But when the squealing turns to screaming, my new pants are dirty, the sheets are in a jumble on the floor or the coffee runs out....where does that leave me? And happy isn'...

my first dance

My wedding day is a little bit of a blur. And it was a great day. But so many people and so much going on and so many moments that it is hard to remember them all clearly without the help of photographs. But I totally remember my first dance as a bride. And it wasn’t with my husband. Or even my father, or brother. I had quickly kicked off my heels and hid them underneath a table. Said my hellos and hugs and smiled until my face hurt. Someone ushered us through the buffet line and I piled my plate with hors d'oeuvres and headed to a table. But before I could pop a single shrimp in my mouth someone grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me onto the dance floor and into a jitterbug before I could protest. It was my husband’s granddaddy. A man I had only met about a few times and heard say about as many words. So I was a little surprised when he spun me around the dance floor. Eventually that night I danced with my husband. And my dad. And probably even my brother. But my fir...

idontbelieveingrammar

Search This Blog