Context: I started this post last Sunday, but—stalled by (tick-tock) writer’s block—I ran out of weekend.  So, I wrapped it up, put it on ice and, and kept the faith…As such, this growth-exorcise didn’t feel the (freezer) burn even though between now and then we had (another) major storm just when I’d prepared for an early spring.  So, for what it’s worth, weather you’re feeling groovy, or feeling stuck, perhaps my stranded pearls of wisdom will make make a (better) world of difference 🙂

Good afternoon, Wonderfuls 🙂

Don’t you love mornings when—waking on autopilot—it takes a few seconds to remember it’s not a work day?

Well, today provides a parallel luxury…it looks like a Christmas morning, but it’s just short of Spring.

And contrary to those grey days when, hiding behind wan clouds, the sun plays peak-a-boo-hoo…

This March morning is playing peak-a-“boo-ya!”

It’s self-congratulatory attitude well justified, I’m pulled by fleeting blazes of Sunday distraction; for there’s no way “Coronation Street” can compete with the sun’s luminous heat…

My neck all a-swivel, checking for repeak performances has me as happily-antsy as a child anticipating the pouncing fingers of a parental tickle monster! 🙂

Yesiree, mis-timing is everything; for if today were a month from now, I’d be singing a different tune…

I’d imagine myself a (Santa) Barbra looking high, and (Neil-ing) low, and…

finding no Diamond in the rough,

going to bread angry, and—

absent hope with which to toast the new day—

penning April a late-night “Dear June” letter…

“You Don’t Sp-bring May flowers anymore“.

But as I said, Delightfuls, it’s the third month of the year, impending spring’s given winter its March-in’ (like a lion, out like a lamb) orders; and, given that I’ve got sun’s “Fire In My Soul”, I’m full of (melted) cheesy good-mess 🙂

And, while I’m on a (“Ain’t Nobody Gonna Break My Stride”) roll, my cautionary tale of nocturnal discontent has inspired a breakfast message for my new fav (hot) beverage…

Dear Earl Grey,

I understand that no good deed goes unpunished—leaving you vulnerable to being easily tea-d off when people misuse you…

But try to remember, you’ll only end up in hot water if you steep to their level…

So, brew you…

That’s it—now you’re on a roll(ing boil)!  It’s so delicious when you get down with your bag self 🙂

Speaking of bags, Terrifics…

You may or may not be familiar with the “old” one—Endora—from the (1964-1972) series, “Bewitched”.  A snobby snubber of muggles, she was the stereotypical mother-in-law from …

Well, given that I’m no stereotype lover, I’ll leave it at that…

(*Alright, the other truth is I can’t remember if I ever knew where Endora and her enchanting daughter Samantha Stevens were from; but I needed an old-school segue for what follows…It, too, came from I know not where.*)

“Who deeze blowfish think they’re Cat calling, Stevens?”, asked Mr. Tate when presented with Darren’s latest advertising pitch.

“Don’t you know the Tide has turned and women are no longer Cool Whip being relegated to playing it (big and) small (in all the right places)?”

“Also, stop reducing your magical wife to twitchy “Stepford Wives” (1972) limitations—like the expectation she greet your brow-beaten butt with a Tanqueray martini when you get home!”

(*Said Darren’s mercenary boss never…I’m taking (product-placement) licence given that, upon reflection, I now realize how chauvinistic that chau was.*)

And, while I’m purgin’ sturgeon (*a belated—Tide-has-turned—pun*)…

Until this past weekend, I could always find escapist comfort in Netflix—

but having watched 3 episodes of new series, “Anne” (of Green Gables), I can no longer assume it’s just the thing for what (Ginger) Ales ya’…

Don’t get me wrong—this version is soooooo well-written…too much so?

You see, I’m not sure I can get past the heart-breaking flashbacks that fuel Anne’s determination to use her imagination, optimism, and love of words to propel her beyond the grip of past traumas…

I certainly don’t recall this fav read hitting me this way in my early youth…the best thing since bacon cheeseburgers (sliced bread’s already been given its due), I repeatedly devoured the book with relish!

Just another bitter-sweet reminder that my memories are fallible…

Oops, there I go again, Treasures, forgetting that you don’t know where I’m coming from until I tell you where I’ve been.

For, it’s not revisited fictional favorites that spurred me to work things through over the past couple weeks—that distinction goes to a decades-old photo of a guy who made a HUGE impact on my life…

Sent to me out of the blue, there wasn’t even a glimpse of the “remembered” super-cuteness that justified my youthful folly…my, “What-was-I-thinking” connection to him…

In fact, I found him unrecognizable!

And, to take things even deeper,

(*for reasons I won’t spell out*)

I felt confused and ashamed given my (unspoken) question as to whether the sender of the photo was passive-aggressively mocking me.

(*It’s a long (her and his)story*)

The working-through wasn’t simply about a boy, however…this event made me question how much past good (that mitigated the painful) I’ve mis-remembered.

And, then this week I was alerted to another unexpected turn…

One of my favorite bloggers—who’s become a dear friend—shared an inconceivable hardship…

The fact that Adam’s vulnerability reflected his customary charm, self-deprecation, humor, and gentleness intensified my wish that I had the power to take all his fear and pain away.

But, thanks to his sharing, he gifted me with a positive reframe for my current past-memories’-lamentations…

Let me be clearer…

If not for Adam’s courage, who knows when I would’ve found an alternative context for my regrets.

I’ve come to see that suffering the weight of past regrets is baggage one needs to leave behind…whereas, regrets tied to “helpless” compassion for others is (carpet) baggage well borne for, carried to it’s logical conclusion, it can be put to rest given the realization that wishes are misses if we substitute regret for actions.

Granted, I don’t have the magic touch (or twitching nose) to change Adam’s circumstances, but I do have the human ability to offer genuine expressions of caring…

And, having done so, Adam graciously assured me that he appreciated/was comforted by my offering…

(You can find Adam at

https://weirdweekendsblog.wordpress.com/ )

And, on a final note…

Here’s another saving grace.

Re-visited songs—a love discovered before falling for reading, then writing—

always, always, always! feel and sound as amazing as when I first fell in love with them! 🙂

Until next time, my friends…

God bless you and your loves. 🙂

Affectionately,

Truly

P.S. Peek-a-boo (Peak-a-boo-hho/yah) is a, now you see me now you don’t, magic bit played with babies; Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond have a (1977) hit song, “You Don’t Bring Me (Sp-bring May) Flowers (and, you don’t sing me love songs anymore)”; “Never go to bed (bread) angry” is an old proverb; a “Dear John” (Dear June) letter is a euphemism for a break up letter; expression, March comes in like a lion, out like a lamb makes way for my Marchin’ orders pun; “Fire In My Soul” is a catchy (2016) tune by Canadian band, Walk Off The Earth; Ain’t Nobody Gonna Break My Stride (1983) Mathew Wilder hit; Earl Grey is a type of tea, and teed-off (tead off) is slang for angry; don’t stoop (steep) to their level is a tea pun; “so, do (brew) you” is encouragement to be yourself, as is 1970’s expression, “get down with your bad (bag) self”; old bag is an unfair term for older bitter women; Hootie & The Blowfish is a fantastic American band; Cat Stevens is an awesome British singer/songwriter with a number of hits; cat calling is an indefensible practice of yelling sexually suggestive/harassing comments (typically, to women in the streets); Samantha Stevens (star of Bewitched) twitched/wiggled her nose in order to enact magic spells; purging can be defined as getting rid of what no longer serves you–making for my purgin’ sturgeon pun…sturgeon are a classification of fish; what ails ya’ is an expression allowing for my, what Ginger Ales ya‘ pun–a nod to Anne’s red hair, and my latest fav cold beverage, ginger ale; carpet bags were carried by both Anne of Green Gables and Mary Poppins, making for my carpet bag(gage) pun…I’ve wanted one since I was a child.