Sometimes life has a way of kicking in, stretching us and our moods to the limit. This week has been one of those weeks when it seems as if everything in life has gone wrong. Early this week, I endured several heated discussions with a company refusing to admit they assumed wrong about some events coming up and we parted company. Later, I went to use my cell phone, and it was not working properly. Frustrated, I drove to the AT&T store, in hopes to get my Blackberry in working order, only to discover it needed updating, which I could do at home. Frustration number three came when I reached for the Blackberry, lifted my signature sunglasses, to place on my face, only to have them fall apart in my hands. I smirked expressing to the kind, considerate AT&T customer service rep that this was only one example of my stressful day. He wished me well telling me I might consider happy hour.
"That is something I intend to do this evening -- let's just say a margarita is calling my name."
To say it's been a stressful, depressing week is an understatement, but one thing I've learned, when depression knocks on my door, I must look for the sunshine in life, not the rain.
This is the week of Easter. Normally a happy time for me, but the demands in my life have stretched me into a pretzel shape and I am so frustrated with life I could scream. Writers get this way!
Knowing me as well as he does, my husband decided to keep me occupied today, suggesting we get out of the house for a while. We rushed around to get errands done so we could have a quiet Easter dinner at home, with us and our three precious pups -- Prince Marmaduke Shamus, a giant schnauzer we rescued about 8 years ago; Sir Shakespeare Hemingway, the birthday boy and a mini schnauzer who wishes to rule our house; and last, but never least, our precious little Maltese with a crooked neck -- Shasta Shampagne, the damsel of our home.
Strolling around the Piggly Wiggly, singing to the oldies but goodies music played in the background, I rushed to remember I needed Sweet n' Low, pineapples for the baked ham, and oops -- I almost forgot to get the ham. Dancing to the beat of the music while pushing the shopping cart, I headed to the meat counter, picked up the Smithfield ham on sale and darted towards check outs. Exiting the store, I ran into some friends, wished them a Happy Easter and left. On the way home I joked with Phil. "I can see Shamus and where he will be tomorrow when I place the ham in the oven. He'll plop down on the kitchen rug and stare into the lighted oven, sniffing the aromas of honey baked ham in the oven."
Exhausted, Phil darted to the bedroom to take a nap. I went to my computer, still trying to think of the lead paragraph for a story I am working on. Frazzled, because it isn't working, I decided to read the newspaper. And now, here I am trying to write in my blog -- something I should do on a daily, at least weekly, basis, but with deadlines, stress, phone calls, e-mails, ringing doorbells and barking dogs, well -- at times, I need to relax.
Now, I am focusing not on the stress of the week, but the accomplishments. One accomplishment I never anticipated this week occurred on Wednesday night. Phil and I decided to go out with a few friends to check out the Wednesday night Karaoke at a beach club in the West Ashley suburb of Charleston. With butterflies in my tummy I wasn't certain if I would sing. After a few sips of Kahlua and cream, I jotted down a few songs, and so did Betty, my friend, who sings Karaoke on Friday nights at our local VFW. I wanted to try some new tunes, but could not read the book with the lights so low, and of course, since my stress level was off the scale, I forgot to pack my pocket flashlight in my handbag. I moved the candle holder closer, but still could not read the song titles, so I decided to hand the disc jockey my CDG's.
Betty and I listened and watched the karaoke singers as they hopped on stage. "Oh, he's G-ooo--ood," we said. The next singer was pretty good too. When Betty's name was called, I whispered, "Break a leg," and she did. Betty can get down with the best of 'em!
After the applause, my name was called. Butterflies danced in my stomach, and I rushed to the stage. I heard someone joke about my name, wanting to know if I was "Barbie, how well did I know Ken?"
I reached for the microphone and quickly said, "I killed Ken." Everyone laughed. Then my music started. Butterflies please go away. I started the song, hearing someone say, "Hey it's Brenda Lee."
"Uh Huh, Honey. All right..."
The more I got into the lyrics of "Sweet Nothings," and the more I danced on stage, the more at home I felt. When I finished, I heard screams, applause, and one table called me over to them. "You sing with a band," one woman said. "Well, actually when I was a teenager, but I got married, and things kind of changed."
One guy sitting across at the end of the table said I could sing professionally. Gee, these people were boosting my crumbling ego. I laughed it all, telling them I appreciated their kind words, but a microphone makes you sound better, I shared. Later, the owner of the bar came over to tell me I had an amazing voice and should consider doing it professionally. I did not know she was the owner until my husband shared it later at home. Although I failed to see it, she had approached him while I was singing, telling him I was a great singer. I admit, when I'm on stage, I am focusing on my performance, not who is watching or listening. The audience is a blurr as I belt out a tune.
The kind words of encouragement from all of these strangers lifted my spirits and although I am still struggling with the story hook, I am certain it will arrive -- probably at 3am like most of the time, and I will meet the deadline. I have a tendency to bounce back during times of stress and adversity. I suppose it is an example of life, adversity and how we build character.
The rest of the week has been stressful, but I am coping better. About an hour ago, a neighbor rang the doorbell, inviting Phil and I to a Greek Easter dinner. How nice of him and his wife to think of us. "Uh huh, Honey. All right."
Better days are ahead. After all, tomorrow is Easter, the sun is shining and every day of life is a blessed day. Phil and I will share our Easter with new neighbors. Sometimes the test of a family is the entrance of new friends into our extended family. As for the baked ham, I'll bake it Monday afternoon, while writing the story. Shamus can sit on the Italian tile kitchen floor and supervise the baking while he sniffs the aromas. At dinner time, he'll sit next to me, hoping to get a bite or two of honey baked ham. Perhaps I'll give him the first bite, just to make certain it is good. He loves his "mommy's cooking!' Happy Easter to all, and look for the positive side of life, not the negative. Spring has sprung, the pollen is off the scale in the Charleston community, and all is good in the world. Ah-choo! Happy Easter!
