Braving the Sun


In the Summertime

If it’s autumn or winter where you live, what are you most looking forward to doing next summer? If it’s spring or summer where you are, what has been the highlight of the season so far for you?

I am a creature of darkness, one who likes to hide from the sun, summer in that sense represents the winter of my social life. However, with an extrovert young daughter to entertain, outdoor activities seem to be the highlight for this season and although I may start out reluctantly, in the end, it is a lot of fun.

I love to be indoors in the sweet embrace of air conditioned, climate controlled rooms where my cyber life can be accommodated and my social networking sites are the best way for me to stay in touch with family and friends, but his summer, the highlight of my activities has been the entertainment of my young daughter who loves being active right under the scorching sun.

This summer we are doing it all, you name it, horse riding, swimming, beach days, hiking and soon to be, all kinds of camping activities with the Girl Scouts, independent camps and horse camps. I do enjoy being with my daughter and I have to admit that even when I start these activities begrudgingly, I end up having fun. My tendency to choose indoor activities makes me oh, dear god, so reluctant to be in the sun, but you know what? It really doesn’t turn out to be bad at all.

Braving the sun is that moment when the only reason you want to discard an activity is solely based on whether it will be outdoors, but you accept anyway. I can’t tell you that I brave the sun a lot, most of the time the decision on what activity to do is done for me (have you ever met extrovert children?), but I can tell you that when I do, there is a great sense of accomplishment on my part, and usually an irrational desire to repeat the experience, which for a creature of darkness like me, it is very out of character.

Whatever the case may be, if you hide from the sun like me, I challenge you to go out and brave the sun a little. Just a little. See what happens.


Just Say No


Courage is equivalent to the word “No”, I dare you to say it next time someone asks you to do something you don’t want to do without a momentary gridlock cluttering your brain as you look for excuses, polite words and all around alternatives to an impending commitment. As a matter of fact, when people ask me how do they get out of a situation they don’t want to be in, they often hear from me, “Just say no”. However, in the past, when it come to me, I buckled and squirmed, often blurting out an eager “Yes!” just so I can run away and take a moment to collect myself. The most difficult part came later as I looked for ways to get out of this situation hearing from my own protégées the same ill fated advice, “just say no”, thanks a lot.

Over the years, I have learned to substitute that eager yes with either of the following statements, ‘I’m busy”, “I’m sick” or “my lawn mower broke down” this last one has nothing to do with requests, but if I really don’t want to do it, any excuse will do and given the fact that I don’t have a lawn, it makes it pretty clear. It remind me of a time when a friend complained of all the commitments she was making and wanted to know how I got out of things like that. I gave her my three answers and over the next few weeks she got those answers from me in turn, until I brought up the lawn mower one at which point her eye glazed up a bit while her brain connected the dots and then gave me a reproachful look knowing what I have been doing the past few weeks.

I have also concluded since those early times that if the word “No” by itself is too daunting to wield, cynicism is the next best thing. I have yet to mustard the courage to say no, but excuses, I can spring out with ease, especially ridiculous ones that open the door for a comedic discussion which in turn gives me time to think of polite words and alternatives to decline whatever it is I don’t want to do.


The Daily Prompt

Oh Snap!

Oh snap, indeed. Lately, The Daily Prompt is contriving to disclose personal details about my life that I rather not share, but as I do like attention, I can’t resist the prompt. Of course I could write about it and not publish these thoughts, but what would be the fun in sharing embarrassing stories if I did, right?
The first picture I came across while browsing my camera picture gallery is a selfie I took after I tried a new hair-do. Normally I sport a very conservative bun or pony-tail to wrangle my sparkly mane. In the uplifting spirit of political correctness gone wild, let me remind you that gray hair is now regarded as life sparkles, lets not offend those that take personal the onset of age upon their youthful spirits. Thank you.
As I was saying, I took this particular selfie one afternoon after spending all morning pinning down the ends of my hair in little circles all around my head. The vision that I had of myself was that of Audrey Hepburn in the movie Roman Holiday after her character cuts and styles her beautiful long hair. Well, let me tell you, the reason the picture still exists is that I forgot to delete it from my cloud.
Now, imagine my surprise. I had an afro, an afro! At the time, my eyes must have looked upon this picture with kindness and compassion, but I bet it was the little voices in my head that clouded my judgment and allowed me to forget about the cloud back up, no doubt looking forward to the day I would come back and get shocked by my own reflection.
I’m not ready to share this picture with you yet. Perhaps I’ll do so in a few years when claiming memory loss, I’ll be able to pretend I don’t see, I don’t remember or I don’t care about the things I want to secretly enjoy. I look forward to the golden era of my life where I won’t be limited by self consciousness. I’m going to have lots of fun.
:::she grins:::


<a href="">Snapshot Stories</a>

The battle for Sleepyhead

Mine was the fateful fortune to be chosen by the man with a proud walk and a firm hand. He walked straight towards me and didn’t hesitate to lift me into his arm. Up until that point, after consciousness awoke in me, I had been greatly anticipating the day I would be taken to a real home.
I’d heard about the children that adored their toys and greatly desired to be in such company. I wanted to be cherished, to be loved. It never occurred to me that I was being recruited to be the principal object of desire for two strong headed children who each wanted me all to their own. They used to engage in horrific pushing, screaming, chasing cat fighting battles, which would only end when one of them would relent to my claim by way of crying inconsolably. I suffered many heart breaks back then. I would be ripped apart from loving hugs and tears of sorrow from my young master. I know now that he would have been the better choice in fulfilling my desires to be appreciated the way I’d heard before. Eventually, the viciousness of my spoiled-girl-master and her superior cat fighting skills inflicted so many life scarring wounds on her little brother that it was agreed by the Great Powers the Be, that I would stay in her possession eternally.
I watch my eternal master-tormentor play with every other toy, but, me? Sadly I was a mere trophy to be displayed prominently on her pillow bed. I was bait. If my little master got caught with me in his possession, there was no sound barrier that would protect us both from a screaming fit that left us shaking in rage, fear and inconsolable grief. All too soon, he gave up any attempt to be with me, but occasionally when she wasn’t around, we would spend time together. It was a personal victory for both of us, the memory of which continues to be my comfort and the sole visitor in my captivity.
And so I remain trapped in a box. I remain forgotten and desolate. I travel with my She-master every place she goes and then, she shoves me back in her “personal treasures” box. The ear I lost in a battle lies by my side. It was never attempted to be sewn back together. Her own children only ever glanced at me a few times. She claimed I was her most priced and loved treasure, a vivid reminder that a common object can be the point of dissention between two siblings that should have grown up loving and cherishing one another. At least in that, we agree.


Daily Prompt

<a href="">Toy Story</a>

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