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You’re sexy…

Does it ever suddenly hit you what a word truly means or where it comes from? Like there’s this Swedish word “gift” which means both “married” and “poison.” Just like “vind” means both “wind” and “attic,” maybe because the wind blows through the attic?

Yesterday I wrote a blog called “Amusing musings…” which led me to ponder muse, musing and amusing. So a muse is amusing and makes you muse upon things?

I don’t think I’ve ever pondered that before. And let me tell you it took me over twenty years to realize that married and poison was the same word in Swedish. I used both words for over twenty years without realizing.

In the same way I’ve asked people how they are, told them I love them, said I’m fine, and a plethora of other things, without really putting any intention behind the words. It’s been empty words.

In a similar manner we tell ourselves stories all the time, without really noticing what we’re saying. I just caught myself berating myself for where I’m at with my life, thinking I should be further along with certain things and will life ever get easier?

In the past year my coach has made me think about what’s working and what I’d love to create more of, as well as what I’d love to create in general. I’ve had to switch my faulty thinking patterns around. And it’s worked wonders.

The amazing thing is, we’re only partly aware of what we’re thinking most of the time. Like you walk around feeling a tad irritated for three hours, but don’t even stop to ask yourself why you’re feeling the way you’re feeling and how you could think about it differently so as to feel better.

Similarly, one day you catch yourself having a thought only to realize you think that thought quite often, but you’re so used to thinking it you don’t even notice. Like when you tie your shoelaces — you don’t really think about what you’re doing, yet you have to think to be able to do it.

I used the same word for marriage and poison for over twenty years without realizing. I just never questioned it. Just like I never questioned some of my own thoughts, or the way I view the world.

Becoming aware is long process, yet it starts over night. Likewise, shifting one’s thoughts, or awareness if you so like, is a long process, yet it starts over night. You have to make a decision about what you’d like to think and where your focus should be.

I’m reminded of Trainspotting: Choose life, choose a fucking big television. Only I think you should choose your thoughts instead. Because really, that’s choosing life. The life we want to create. Personally I’m gonna go have a shower, pamper myself and curl my hair. Just so I can think I’m beautiful and sexy. I could contemplate my wrinkles instead, but that’s a lot less fun than thinking I’m hot as hell…

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

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Amusing musings…

I remember when I first started this blog — I was doing yoga in Runyon Canyon and walking around looking for topics to write about as I had challenged myself to do a post a year for a year…and I did.

When I write on here I learn. It’s where I process what’s happened. The more stressed I get, or the more happy I get, the more I write. If I’m stressed I need to process what’s happened, if I’m happy I want to share my happiness with the world.

Today I was running around looking for an external hard drive for over two hours. That wasn’t fun (esp. as I didn’t find it), but it was hilarious because I kept looking in places where I’d already looked, thinking it should logically be there. Only it was totally illogical to look again, because it wasn’t there.

It made me realize that we do that a lot, don’t we? We look for things in places where we know we won’t find them. Ever had a friend who never showed up? The kind that cancelled every coffee you ever booked? Ever been in a relationship where you break up and keep getting back together? Ever had a boss who just never praised you when you did well?

These things are structures. Those people are living according to a structure where they will keep repeating a certain behavior. So why do we still go there looking for that coffee, that love, that praise? We’re looking in the wrong place!

Our looking in the wrong place is a structure too. It’s something we keep doing. And for no good reason. What we’re looking for won’t happen.

I remember that before I broke up with the guy I was with for over three years back in my twenties, I kept having a line from a play I was doing going round and round in my head: “The wonderful thing isn’t going to happen, Thorvald.” Meaning, Hedda Gabler would never be loved the way she wanted to be loved by Thorvald (at least I think it was Thorvald and Hedda this was about…I may have mixed up the character by now…but it was the play Hedda Gabler by Ibsen).

The reason that line kept going round and round in my head was because my ex would never turn around and love me the way I wanted to be loved.

This came back to me when my coach pointed out that I expect flakiness. That I think flakiness is normal in relationships, but it’s not. It’s what’s normal to me. It’s my dysfunctional structure to be around guys where the wonderful thing will never happen.

Now, sitting thinking about your past isn’t necessarily helpful — you want to be moving towards what you want to create, not away from what you don’t want to create. I’d like to create intimacy. To me intimacy is a big scary thing as I’ve hidden in clouds of aloofness to protect myself from flakiness, but it’s what I’d love. What I’d truly love to create.

I’m obsessing about structure lately, have you noticed? Because I had some big epiphany that your entire life is built around structure. You put the right structures in place, you can do anything.

It’s like building a house: for the house to do what you want it to, you need a foundation, the proper pipes, the right electrical wiring, etc. If you don’t put structures in place, the house collapses on you, or things don’t work as they should, or keep breaking.

If you think about your exercise regime, your daily schedule, the way you plan your week, how you organize your wardrobe, etc. it’s all structures. There are also mental patterns that are structures, like the way you view situations, people, etc. and therefore react to them.

Writing this blog I was also reminded of that year when I wrote a blog a day and doing yoga and running in Runyon Canyon. It was a structure. One that I loved at that time. Challenges work for me because I thrive on them. So I think I need to make a few more challenges now. Challenge myself to put a few new structures in place.

I’ve been grumpy (and exhausted) for like a week due to the fact that I raise one kid with behavioral issues and I have to wait for him to do a program before he can start school again and having him at home all day long is driving me up the walls. Because I’ve felt like I can’t put structures in place. But I can. And I will.

I’d also like to run into someone who’d hug me for an hour. The past few months have been challenging with his issues and the schools. I’ve met so many wonderful people through this who’ve told me I’m a special soul who is doing an amazing job (incredible given how grumpy I’ve felt but considering his behavioral patterns I’m possibly a saint after all). It’s hard to reignite your own flame constantly, but compared to how much better I am at it now than a year ago, I’m well pleased with myself.

Now I’m off to look for more work, it’s an exciting Friday night…

Oh no, wait, I’m supposed to put a sexual metaphor in here as is the style of this blog…but I’m too tired…no, I can’t say that. It would be like totally rude if I said that to guy. Uhm…feed me chocolate, pour me wine and massage my feet till I fall asleep we have sex. Or just take me to Runyon Canyon and let me feel the desert wind blowing through my hair again as I run in the sun.

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

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A (hilarious) letter to the Universe from a single mom…

Dear God, or Universe,

I think it’s about time we struck a deal for single mothers. Motherhood is hard on anyone, being single makes it equivalent to climbing Everest. In high heels. Balancing a bottle of wine on your head. So I have decided it’s deal time and below I outline the requirements of this deal. I have ten.

But before that, as a single mother I solemnly swear to do my best to raise brave, good hearted children who are willing to work hard for good causes and who take personal hygiene and good manners seriously. So seriously they may even grow out of their farting phase. This is tricky given I’m raising three kids who were born into a drug den, but I am doing my best. When they swear at me in two different languages I just swear quietly in  my head in five different languages. See, I am really loving and zen about it. 

Now, onto the deal. 

In return for being a single mom, I should get some perks. I mean you understand I need some supporting structures in place in order to pull this off, don’t you? 

Great. Let’s strike a deal. 

  1. A dishwasher. This is crucial, really. Right now I do the dishes three times a day — once after every meal. And given Cape Town is suffering from a water crisis it isn’t just a waste of time, but also of water. There must be a better solution. 
  2. Wine. Ample amounts provided at any hour of the day. When in need, you deliver. 
  3. Coffee. No woman can live on wine alone and it’s a well established fact that you work better and faster when caffeinated. Given the size of my kids’ bills, you better keep it coming. 
  4. Free education. It’s hard enough to foot the feeding bill, so please help me out here. I have one kid with special needs who I have forked out a ton of money on in the shape of therapists, assessments and tutors, one brainy one who attends ghetto school (which really is not cool given last time I checked the kids were hit by the teachers and the teachers by the kids and my kid is starting to have an attitude about school, which is understandable) and one who is in crèche and who started swearing fluently before he turned two, so he must be smart enough for a scholarship. 
  5. Full body massage. At least once a week. Ring a bell for foot massage would also be handy. You see, not only do I cook and clean which keeps me on my toes a lot of the time, I also crawl around the floor looking for toys, carry around a two-year-old, play on the beach, carry the laundry, partake in epic nappy battles (really, it’s always interesting to see who wins — me getting the clothes off the toddler or the toddler keeping them on) and all sorts of other demanding tasks. 
  6. Stress relief. Now, you can get creative here. In fact, I like creativity. But I’d rather like it if it involved fun arty stuff, dancing, adventures, sailing, hot tubs, or escaping the children at least once a month. Because any good mother knows that they need time alone to do the om, namaste, I’m so zen it’s like totally cool thing and drink wine without the possibility of someone cracking a farting joke or pooping their pants. 
  7. A constant supply of essential oils. To keep away the nappy smell and get rid of bacteria naturally. I don’t like to poison us all, but nor do I want to catch all the cold germs they pick up at school. I also happen to calm down when blending perfumes, so it’s a win-win really — the kids get a mom who might not snap at them at the least provocation (such as painting the floor with orange juice), no one gets a cold (or low and behold: a stomach bug) and the house smells nice.
  8. Only nice men in my bed. Preferably one, who is constant. You see, I’m busy. I really don’t have time to run around town in high heels hoping to bump into Mr Right. Especially as I’m prone to being dizzy and blonde so I topple over whenever I see a hot guy. This leads to embarrassment and injuries. Those don’t go well with child raising. And I mean it really shouldn’t be that hard to be with one man, should it? If I manage to raise three kids from a township in Africa I should be able to manage one man. Preferably one who swears less than the kids and has good bedroom manners. And by that I mean really bad ones, if you get my drift. But otherwise his manners should be impeccable. A man in your bed is also vital, given your time to exercise beyond cooking and cleaning from morning till night and playing with the kids is minimal, so you need exercise in bed. And only doing bedroom yoga gets boring fast. Tantra on the other hand… 
  9. A great career. The aforementioned bills are really important — they need to be covered by an income. I’d also like to enjoy my time when working as otherwise I’ll be grumpy, which means the kids won’t like me much, which will be a disaster as I’d quite like them to love me. 
  10. Love. When you are sore, whether in your soul or your muscles, there is nothing more rejuvenating than love. I’d like it in heaps and mountains. Please. I’ll return it in equal amounts and more. Keep the good people in my life raining down.  

That’s it. I’m not averse to bonuses though — feel free to add things like free chocolate and adoption lawyers, an ample supply of clothes for the kids, as much time in Paris and Los Angeles as I like, meals that cook themselves and a hot tub with rustling palm tress and stars overhead. 

Yours truly,

A dizzy blonde and blessed single mother who is sometimes really tired. 

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Magical moments and painting with caramel sauce…

It was maybe three years ago I was having a conversation with my best friend about death: what would we do if one of us died? Like how do you handle the death of the person that’s been the closest to you for an odd twenty years?

I didn’t have the answer. She didn’t have the answer. All I’ve really thought about when it comes to life and death is that you have to fill your life with as much love as possible. Some people are special — we don’t have a magical connection with everyone, but out of billions of people, there are several whom we can create great friendships with.

People die, love doesn’t. There is so much magic to be experienced in life with so many people. Sometimes all we have to do is open the door. Open the door to the possibility that someone might be magic. Open the door to our heart. Open the door to the beauty around us.

This conversation together with my constant traveling suddenly made me very aware of what I’ve often taken for granted. Like spending time with my best friend. In the past I just used to fall into the familiar feeling of being around her, now I’m aware that our time together is limited — not least because we live in different parts of the world.

Your experience shifts when you realize time is limited. It’s like suddenly you enjoy things more. You savor the moment in an entirely different way.

The other day, as a Facebook acquaintance posted about his son’s sudden death, I was reminded of this once more. That time is limited. That we really need to indulge in the moment and appreciate the people in our lives as we never know if it’s the last time we see them.

It also hit me that time with ourselves is limited. We make a point out of appreciating the time we spend with other people, but do we make a time to appreciate the time we spend with ourselves?  Do we take care of ourselves, love ourselves, indulge in the things that make us feel good? Like do you appreciate your own talents, your own sense of humor, the little things that make you, you? It’s great when others appreciate us for those things — don’t we all love hearing what makes us special — but how about appreciating that ourselves? Even if our soul is immortal, our current incarnation is not.

Fill your life with the good stuff. I was telling a friend the other day that I’ve filled my house with important stuff — like poetry, wine, art, herbs, cooking utensils, laughter and love. It makes me feel at home, because it’s the things I treasure and I want my surroundings to be a reflection of what I love. That way I get to live the magic every single day.

Of course I also have to do what I love. I write the poetry that paint my walls, I make the charcoal drawings that fill this house. I live. Even if only three people read my poems, and five people saw my art, I know I lived that poetic/artistic moment.

This house is alive with who I am. And last week I even bought a bed for my bedroom so now I can fall asleep dreaming beautiful dreams too…

Slowly, slowly we can piece our magic together, but even while we are doing it, we can live. We can create beautiful moments before “everything’s ready.” Before we are famous. Before we are rich. Before anyone else sees, or appreciates our art.

Recently life’s felt like a whirlwind blowing in the right direction. Like climbing a steep mountain to get to the top. It’s been good, but very challenging. And at night I’ve been exhausted, but I’ve lit my candles, poured a glass of red and turned on the stove to let my troubles bubble away in caramel sauce. Because I love baking. I love the scent of caramel. I love feeling like this is my home and I’m creating magic. Even in the midst of the storm, just as I said in a previous blog.

There are times when I fail and I freak out about everything at once — then slowly I bring my attention back to what’s working, to what is slowly changing thanks to the structures I’m putting in place and to what is possible. I turn on the stove and mix whatever spices draw me to them that day, write a poem, or paint a charcoal painting. I live. If so just a little bit. And a spark of magic is created…a spark that sooner or later starts a fire.

Magic. Create it.

Love. Love as much as you can. Life is short and wonderful people are magical and beautiful and utterly tremedously amazing.

Live the small moments. Create magic in everyday life. And run off to Paris or with the circus as often as possible…

“Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then -the glory- so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. And I guess a man’s importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men. ” – John Steinbeck, East of Eden

So there you are. Now go paint someone with caramel, or chocolate sauce, or something. Make it good. Make it magical.

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

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Candle magic in the storm…

Do you ever wait for the perfect moment? A better home? A nicer car? And in the meantime neglect to make the most out of your current situation?

I used to be like that. I’d draw plans for a castle while living in a shack type thing. Instead of turning the shack into a castle I was waiting. Because it was just temporarily I was living there.

A lot of the things in my life were temporary. I was waiting for that magic moment when I had money, when I had visas, when I could settle, when I was doing what I love all day long… Then one morning about a year and a half ago I woke up and decided it was time to live life, no matter what.

So with no money I came up with things to do with the kids. I started writing poetry again. Happy poetry. I drew charcoal drawings again. I did everything I could to live, even if I couldn’t live exactly as I wanted.

Then it felt like life tested me. I got stuck in Europe with no visa. I was miserable being away from the kids. I was panicky. I’d wake up screaming in the night. But I realized that I had to find joy anyway. No matter what life presented me with. I had to enjoy the moment and put the panic and fear aside. And for the first time in years I took time to make new friends. To create a social life, even if I was just there temporarily. And I had fun. I still struggled with being away from the kids, but I created joy anyway. Because that’s the kind of person I want to be — I kept thinking if there was one thing I could teach people it would be that. To create joy and love, even when life gives you lemons. Because life will, in some way or another, always throw screwballs.

I came back to SA with a new visa plan, a great lawyer, more opportunities, but I’ve still battled. I found my dream home, but I had to live on a blow up mattress on the floor for six weeks as they did repairs (and it’s still raining in), the neighbor was loco, the furniture I ordered custom made grew mold, I finally had the kids but one of them has such severe issues my every day was taken up trying to sort him out and my work went out the window as I was running around to doctors, therapists, schools and golly knows what and the donkeys and still came home to tantrums, fights and nightmares. I couldn’t have babysitters, because they couldn’t handle him. I was never alone and I was losing my mind. But slowly things got better. Slowly my house became my home. Slowly my kid started finding his feet again. Slowly.

In the midst of the mania I decided to light candles. I was so run down — there were times I didn’t have time to shower for four days, because with a toddler and one kid throwing tantrums I couldn’t leave them alone. And at night I was so tired I just toppled over. But every night I lit candles. Even if it was only ten minutes to myself, I had ten minutes of calm and beauty. The kids asleep and only me and the candles.

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A rare shot of myself on this blog…came across this photo a few days ago and found it apt for this blog… 

Now I’m thinking I must do the same in the morning. Establish a routine that serves me. A routine that makes me feel happy.

Slowly I’m putting structures in place. Slowly my life is becoming a happy place to be. Even when it rains. Because I keep looking for the poetry. I keep looking for ways to make things work with the resources I have. And I try to be patient, because some things, like Magique have taken forever to sort out in the midst of the chaos. But for that too, I’ve put structures in place. I’ve hired people to ensure I sort out the things I’ve done wrong in the past. I’ve taken charge to put structures in place, both in my personal and professional life. And slowly we will get there.

I feel alive, because I have the sense that I’m finally living. I’m not waiting for some magic moment when I’ll receive an Oscar (though that’d be great), or Magique will be raining money on my head, or I’ll have fifty million to make a movie and decorate my home. I’m simply using my resources to create magic. In the now. And putting supporting structures in place. In the now. Because there’s so much beauty and I want to experience it. Right now.

It’s time to light a candle and crack on with today’s workload. A very happy me actually has some time to work.

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

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I dream a little dream of you…

They say dreams speak their own language and while I believe dream lexicons and set ideas about symbolism are pretty far fetched, I do believe dreams contain messages about what’s on our mind, or in our subconscious. It may also be we are more receptive to other people’s thoughts, or messages from mysterious sources (if such exist), when we dream. The dreamer in me is still hoping that I’ll discover all the mysteries of life and divinity in my sleep…

Alas, the other night I wasn’t receiving intruiging messages from God, or the Universe, in the form of direct contact explaining all the mysteries of life, but dreamed about someone I haven’t seen for twenty years. I woke up confused about dreaming about this person, because while we went to school together, they were never someone close to me. So what on Earth prompted me to dream about them?

In this particular dream, a scenario that’s very familiar to me played out: I felt inferior as the other person got what I wanted. This sensation of feeling inferior begun at a time in my life when the person I dreamed of was part of my life and part of the click of people who were “cool” while I was as uncool as could be. It was a time when I accepted that I would never have what I wanted because of who I am — the uncool chick.

The interesting part was that as I contemplated this dream during the day I realized that how I feel is unrelated to who I interact with — sooner or later I will feel inferior and unlovable no matter who I am around. Usually due to some perceived imperfection. I feel judged, but the truth is that I’m the one judging myself, which creates a sense of inferiority, followed by a sense of unworthiness, rejection, or the idea that I can’t be loved/am unlovable. And then I act with that feeling inside of me, which, of course, causes rejection.

As you can imagine, all of this happens subconsciously. All I really feel is a nagging sensation something is off. I don’t feel like my confident self. I don’t feel on top of the world. I shy away instead of “sparkle.” I start to feel uncomfortable instead of free. Sometimes I go aloof and push people away. I feel ashamed of myself, so I don’t want to be seen.

Dreaming about a person that’s so far removed from my life I can’t even piece together why ever on Earth I’d dream about her, allowed me to see that my states of mind often have nothing to do with reality. I will create situations where I feel like I felt in the dream, irrespective of who I am with, or what I’m doing. I mean I dreamed of someone who has absolutely nothing to do with my life, yet the feeling I had in the dream is the same feeling I have around pretty much everyone I meet, at one point or another. It’s almost like the dream allowed me to look at myself from the outside and see how my mind is still reacting to something that happened twenty years ago.

Of course, then my best friend went and ruined it all by telling me she Googled this particular person the same night I dreamed of them…so maybe this dream had nothing to do with my subconscious and everything to do with my best friend’s curiosity about the people that she used to know…

Tonight I’d prefer a naked man in my dreams. Please. Oh no, wait, that’d be better in reality…

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

P.S. Want to read some of my poetry? Head to my business Magique’s Instagram: www.instagram.com/CarnavalDuDesir

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You can make love…

Love is a choice. In every instance in life, you can come from a perspective of love, or somewhere else. Usually your ego, or programmed behavior.

I help raise a kid with behavioral difficulties and the other week the kids were running amok in the doctor’s office and the one with behavioral issues then had a meltdown in the parking lot and ran off.

When you look at a kid who has been emotionally traumatized and has special needs, they don’t react like your ordinary kid. You can’t just discipline more, or love more. It doesn’t change the behavior. You use positive re-enforcement and a number of other techniques. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes get angry, or feel embarrassed.

At the doctor’s I felt embarrassed. There’s another way of seeing it though. I could just have seen it from the point of view of being a single mother, who took on raising a drug addict’s three children (and had a fourth mentorship kid with that day) and is doing the best she can with the situation. Or I could get super embarrassed that my kid didn’t behave, thinking everyone must think me a fool.

We are so programmed thinking one thing and letting our egos run the day we rarely stop to question the truth of our feelings. I’ve been running around to doctors, psychiatrists, special needs schools, therapists and god knows what and the monkeys. I try my best to implement positive parenting at home. There are times when I fail. I get sad, or angry. I want just a normal life where I don’t have to fear a couple of meltdowns a day. But by the end of the day, I get up, focus on solutions and what I’d love to create and set to work. So am I the fool with a misbehaving child, or the person who deserve credit for helping?

Ever considered as well when you are in the run up for a job, or you date someone for a while and it doesn’t work out, that it’s not about what didn’t work, but about what made you get as far as you did? Can you see the beauty in what they appreciated in you? As opposed to what made it not work out? Can you build on that beauty? Can you appreciate yourself and your skills the way they did?

The other day I handed my car in to change the break pads, only they realized that underneath that, a screw of sorts was broken and had I kept driving I would possibly have had an accident. Now, said massive screw wasn’t available right away, but had to be sent from another town. So I ended up carless for five or so odd days.

As I walked away from the repair center I was feeling a bit frustrated — I had weekend plans. The sun was shining though so I decided to walk to fetch the little one instead of taking an Uber. As I walked I saw a van, which was totally closed, no windows open, but I could hear voices. Soon I heard a chorus of “Marias” being shouted, a window opened and faces revealed themselves to greet me. It was kids from Hangberg who I’ve met over the years, on their way to a soccer game. It made me smile. Those are the kids that make the struggles we face worth it. Those smiling faces.

Later that day I walked to the harbor with one of my kids, to eat ice cream and he rollerbladed. It was sunny and wonderful and all things glorious, even if I had a sore throat and no car. It was a blessing.

A few days later I ordered an Uber to go to a funeral. As I walked out the door with one of the kids to fetch it, I realized it had cancelled and another Uber was on its way. I messaged them saying we’d started walking as we were running late and asked them to fetch us along the road. It said it’d be there in five minutes, but five minutes later it said in six minutes. It started raining. We kept walking. The Uber went to our address instead of where I told him to go. Then he drove past us and cancelled. The third Uber showed up.

I walked twenty minutes in the rain with a cold, freezing. I was getting angrier and angrier. Then I realized that this was the opportunate moment to enjoy life. I was on my way to a funeral. I started telling my child that maybe luck prevented us from catching those Ubers. You never know. But you do know that you are alive, you still have beautiful moments to look forward to and a healthy life to enjoy. You can dance. You can giggle at raindrops. You can laugh with friends. You can make love. You can create art. You can write poems. You can eat delicious meals. You can lick salted caramel out of the pot. You can speak for hours with people close to your heart. You can hug. You can kiss. You can run across fields with your children. You can jump in waves. You can chase someone along the shoreline till you both fall down from exhaustion and laughter. You can feel life. You can live life.

Dizzy blonde, over and out.

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Image Source: https://www.pinterest.se/pin/507780926726569139/

 

 

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