Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

For it being Monday and all I’m am quite surprised at what a positive, upbeat mood I’m in today. The sun is out, work is going well for the most part and best of all, “I feel pretty”.

I might have to make this a Kodak moment later tonight.

Jumping in with the cool kids today, I’m following fellow blogger Terry’s lead and posting a sample of my handwriting. I don’t think my penmanship is terribly bad, but its not as good as it would have been had I continued my pursuit of a career in education.

I tried to follow Terry’s lead and write something dirty, but I kept blushing.

I have this bad habit of spewing things when I’m in a bad mood. It’s not like my head is exploding or puke is shooting out of mouth or something equally horrendous but I tend to say things that I don’t really mean. I drop f-bombs. I get very demonstrative. For example, a customer was not very nice to me on the phone today. She wanted her problem resolved RIGHT NOW and wanted to know if I was going to do something about it, when in fact, I had already sent someone out to resolve the problem she was having and her assistant couldn’t find the key to the telephone equipment room. She was a bitch and I wasn’t in the mood for it, trying to dress me down on the phone like I don’t deserve respect or something because after all, I am a “service worker” at the telephone company. So after getting off the phone (which I surprisingly didn’t slam down) I told my co-worker that there are some women that just don’t deserve to be working or in positions of power.

Now I don’t know why I said that. It was very rude of me. I don’t really feel that way about women per se; I believe that there are many people, regardless of their sex, in positions of power that don’t deserve to be there. There’s all sorts of idiots, men and women, in high places around the world. In low places too and in every place in between.

Every single person on this planet has their place in the world; good people, bad people, those that contribute to society and those that take from society, every single person has a contribution to the this thing we call the human equation. I truly believe that. I believe that we can learn something from every person that we have contact with, and I believe that today, this woman showed me that I can say things in the heat of the moment that I don’t really mean. Then I write about it, think about it, share it on my blog and chalk it up to experience.

Now don’t cross me.

Starting late last week I’ve fallen into the habit of having to take my shoes off during my lunch break. For some reason I just can not relax unless I am barefoot and feeling the freedom of prancing around the house as nature intended. I’ve always loved to be barefoot, but felt that the lunch hour is too short to enjoy the luxury. Last week I decided the heck with it and threw my shoes aside while I typed in my blog and enjoyed my lunch hour.

My blog friend Thom seems to have a concern for clean, presentable feet and I can confidently say that my feet are winners in that department. As long as you don’t look on the bottom. Running around barefoot all the time can result in some dirty feet. However, as I discovered when I was still in my single digits, that’s why Mother Nature gave us dew on the grass; so that we could run around and clean our feet.

I’m such a kid at heart.

Except for commuting to work I tend to drive barefoot. I’ve been told by people that I’m going to be stopped for driving barefoot but I don’t really see how that can happen since my feet are inside the car and the cops tend to be outside the car. It’s not like I have a neon light over the Acura yelling “bare feet!”.

There is also something very relaxing about having your feet rubbed. Even if it’s just your loved one rubbing your feet gently, I find it very soothing. Little lotions and whatnot are a wonderful thing too, but I’m content with just getting the knots in the bottom of my feet rubbed out.

When I was a kid, I paid the price one time for running around barefoot. We were at the baby sitter’s one summer afternoon running around in the yard. I was seven or so years old, running around chasing someone somewhere when all of a sudden it felt like my feet were on fire. I looked at the bottom of my feet and they were all gray and puffy. Turns out the sitter had dumped the coals out of her barbecue grill the night before and didn’t bother to pour water on them to cool them off, and they were still hot. I had burned the bottoms of both my feet. My mother is probably tearing up as she reads this. But nevertheless it didn’t slow my desire to be barefoot down, once my feet healed I was off running through the cow pastures and corn fields, meadow muffins and all, barefoot and loving every minute of it.

If you want to see a picture of my feet, look no further than the introduction page to our web site. Earl and I had our portraits taken a couple of years ago. Barefoot, of course.