Bonnie’s Beach 🏖

My Life. My Experiences. My Love. My Words.

Be Like Sausage…

As I sit outside on my back porch, drinking my hot toddy while watching my fat cat attempt to catch the June bugs that are beginning to come out, I get to enjoy the warm evening air and the chance to think a bit. It’s true, what they say, life is a precious gift. It’s definitely not something I want to waste, but I also know I have spent many wasteful moments. I guess it’s part of the learning process, and you’re never done learning. I don’t want to be at the end of my days longing for all the wasted time. All those wasted hours that I could have been doing something more than what I did.

I love those infectious people with the unquenchable thirst for adventure and living. You know the ones. They always seem to have energy and go go go every day, and you wonder how they do it. I know I do! I wish I had that energy! That unfulfilled yearning to do everything possible! The want to constantly be on the move. Hell! Even the capability of being constantly on the move. How do they do it? They make it look so easy. So fluid. So natural. Like there’s no other way to be alive. I wish I had that passion and that drive and that ambition. How does one go about getting those things?

There are plenty of motivators out there in the world. There are people whose callings in life are helping others with finding theirs. There are places that inspire greatness. There are experiences that excite the soul to be more. To become more. And yet, how do we even run across these things? We’ll use me as an example. Here goes. So, I love to make people happy. I love seeing and being the cause for people to smile and laugh and for a second, forget whatever makes them unhappy. But that’s not my job. I don’t do that for a living. Part of what I enjoy about my job is that I get the opportunity to make the people I work with smile and laugh from time to time. But that can take work too. There are days when I am far far far, extremely fucking far from my usual, sunshiny self. There are days when I can’t even bring myself to smile, and those days make me feel even more terrible. Because, like I mentioned, I love making other people laugh and smile. And yes. I know I can’t be happy ALL the damn time, but it’s so defeating when I can’t even muster a smile for myself.

So how do these people do it? Are they just that good at hiding any emotion other than happiness? Are they seriously like this EVERY SINGLE DAY?! You hear that happiness is a choice. I mean, I’ve read it somewhere. It is. Definitely. But it’s a hard choice to make every day upon waking. There has to be a conscious effort, right? Sometimes the universe can throw some serious shit your way! Sometimes it feels impossible to be happy. But you know what? That’s ok. We don’t have to be happy ALL the fucking time. We are human. We can have bad days. It doesn’t make it any easier for those of us who would much rather be happy, but we are allowed to be imperfect and mopey and blah.

OK. I’ll stop there, because now it just sounds like I’m on some crazy, emotional rant about being human. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m tired of having to work at being happy. It’s not that I’m unhappy. I truly am happy! Just some days are so much easier than others. And there’s got to be a secret. Those go go go people have to have something figured out, and I just wish I knew what it was. Sometimes I wish I was like my cat Sausage. She’s a cat. I know. But I could learn a couple things from her. She’s fat and yet still active, and she couldn’t care less that she’s a tad grande. She lets her true intelligence shine through, and she may poop on the floor, but does she care what I think? Nope. Sausage does NOT care about the opinions of others! She definitely enjoys her cat food, but she will only eat solid white albacore tuna as a treat! So she obviously eats fine and indulges from time to time. I think I have that one down! Yay! Let’s see, what else. She sticks close to her family and does her best to “protect” us when an unknown comes to the door. By protect I mean she growls. Like actually growls. That is the extent of her guardcat status though. Because she runs away as soon as she sees the unknown. At least she lets me know when someone is walking up to the door. I mean, that’s pretty cool. She proves her loyalty and love to me every day. She may not cuddle with me, but she’s always there. She waits for me outside the shower. She lays at my feet at night. She lays at my feet on the couch. She hangs out near the kitchen when I cook. I mean. Such a simple life. Not a worry in the world! Well, ok. One worry. If the food bowl shows any sign of bowl at the bottom it’s panic mode time.

But seriously. I should be more like Sausage. Why worry about what others think? Why worry about anything more than if I have food and water and love? Basic necessities for all creatures. We humans just found ways to make it more and more complicated. I need to be more grateful for the things I have. For the limited time I have. For moments I shouldn’t have to worry about wasting, because they weren’t wasted. For the rare love that happens in life as a second chance. For the smiles I see on other people’s faces and the ones out in mine. Maybe that’s the secret. Until I know for sure I’ll just have to see what happens next and not waste my time. Until next time! 😉

-Bonnie 💙

Sausage. Be like her. 😊

She’s squishy!

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Memories For Memorial Day And A Father’s Birthday…

Today is Memorial Day. It is a day to remember those who have given their lives for this country.  Those lives have given me the freedom to write this blog, and I can never thank them enough. Some of you know that I was in the Army.  I do not consider myself a veteran of any sort, as I took an option to get out early (personal circumstances at the time) with an honorable discharge.  I was in less than a year, and I miss it.  The best part was meeting some of the best people I know and have stayed connected with through the years.  We all live so far away from one another, but thanks to FB we have stayed connected.  I appreciate them more than they will ever know.  Thank you for your service.  

Today is also my father’s 60th birthday.  The older I get the more I realize I don’t know him.  It’s no one’s fault really.  We are just two completely different people.  We don’t talk.  We don’t hang out.  We awkwardly ask how the other is doing, both wanting to have a conversation, but those conversations just seem to resemble infomercials where we’re both trying to sell coins to one another, albeit shiny ones.  Most of the time I think it’s because I’m a girl.  Other times I think I’m not logical enough to talk to him about anything resembling logical intelligence.  Other times, I think we’re just both really bad at taking walls down that have no real reason to be up.  

Needless to say, my dad and I are not very close.  Rarely do I see the side of him that lights up with boyhood brightness.  When I do see it, it’s always with someone else.  Writing this is not easy, just so you know.  This post is not meant to show how terrible my dad is or how crappy his daughter is. It may be entirely my fault that he and I aren’t closer.  It’s even harder working in the same office building and hearing how he talks to everyone else with happiness in his voice.  Sometimes I get to hear him say hi to everyone and then he walks by me.  God forbid there be any showing of “favorites” in the workplace.  There isn’t any.  He asked me to lunch once.  Well, a lunch without an agenda attached.  It was awkward beyond belief.  Here I am in my thirties expecting some sort of lecture the entire time.  It never came.  Now that was strange.  What was even more disheartening was that when he asked me to lunch, my boss was just as shocked.  My boss has watched me grow up and has known my dad nearly my entire life.  He knows, unlike anyone else in the office, how close my dad and I are not.  

For my dad’s birthday, I bought him a journal, along with a couple of randoms; the traditional sudoku book (he loves sudoku puzzles), and a steam engine die sheet metal model he can put together (something I thought was pretty cool).  My dad is sooooooooooo not easy to buy for.  What do you get a person who has everything they need and buys whatever they want, and they only tell you they want socks?  So the only truly meaningful gift I got him was the journal.  He may never use it, and that is perfectly fine.  I would actually hope he’d at least use it in some random way like to start a fire in some strange act of survivalism. At least then I would know it had served a purpose other than to collect dust.  I wrote him a note in this one.  A tradition I enjoy doing when gifting books or journals.  I believe they always add more meaning to the gift.  I’m weird.  I know this, but it makes it more personal when you write down a tiny bit of your heart on paper.  The journal is for one thing, his memories.  I told him to write down anything he wanted to.  Memories of his childhood, my childhood, whatever he wanted.  As long as they were memories.  They could be happy or sad or whatever.  I figure since we don’t sit down and have heartfelt conversations, maybe I could get to know him this way.  It’s a thought, right?  So now we will just have to see if he does anything with it.  He’s a busy man, and his free time is usually filled with something, so adding something to a voluntary to-do list may be out of the question.  I don’t know.  

What I do know is time passes faster than we realize.  Faster than I realize.  I wish there were more times than the random holidays when family would get together and talk story.  We have moved so far beyond the days of sitting around fires and sharing stories and passing on tall tales and valiant battles. Although let me just put this out there, I am a horrible story teller!!!  Absolutely terrible!  I can write a story, but saying it out loud it becomes some garbled mess of words with no point.  What I think I am really trying to say through this post, is that I do not want to speak at the funeral of a man I do not know.  Time is only going to increase in speed, and there is only so much time to get to know anyone.  If I don’t get to know the man who helped bring me into this world (albeit accidentally), then I have no one to blame but myself. He has been a dutiful dad, and I miss the days when we would play a new Nintendo game or build a new Lego set.  Those days are gone.  Now I don’t know him at all.  No more train rides.  More more high railing.  No more jumping through inner tubes in the pool.  No more running through waves at the beach.  All those memories I have from so long ago.  All the memories that aren’t made due to not knowing how to make them anymore.  Time is fleeting, and memories fade…

Happy Memorial Day

Happy Birthday Dad

-Bonnie

   
 

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