Perle Champion

This morning, I struggled.  Stayed up late – one-ish.  Two chapters shy of finishing the book – need I say more.

Sooooo, 5 a.m. came very early and since I don’t really have to leave for work  til 7:45, I could have rolled over until 6.   But the cat had her nose to mine inquiring about breakfast.  Those whiskers get me every time.  No purring or meowing here, it’s more a truncated, disgusted sound like ‘meck’ – hard to write phonetically, but cat people know what I mean.

So I got up, fed her, then prepared my morning pre-walk drink: 10 oz water, 1 Tbs raw honey, 1 Tbs Braggs organic vinegar, stir well, drink on way to bathroom.  I shed my shortie pajamas on the toilet, pull on my workout shorts, flush and head for the living room to don shoes, socks, hat; put phone in one pocket, and a pad and pen in the other.

I’m about ready to walk out the door, but then I did a Flip Wilson and listened to those little voices.  ‘Hey,’ said the devil on my left shoulder, ‘you’ve done 7 days straight, take it easy.  The world won’t come to an end if you don’t walk today.’

Whereupon, the angel on my right shoulder piped up, ‘Big deal.  You’re 40 pounds over weight; you’re still drinking like a fish; you think 7 days is gonna shed all that fat.  Not!’.

I got my keys, sunglasses and headed out the door. Angel 1, Devil 0.  When I got back home, I was glad I went.  I always am.  The sunrise was a bonus.  In the beginning, it’s just getting out the door that’s the hardest part.

It’s a fact that it takes 30 days to build a good habit and only 3 to break it.  Not fair, but whoever told you life was fair, lied.

That angel was so right, I’m walking, but I’m still drinking more than I should.  I’ll keep moving forward and maybe arrive at the best answer to the question:

Now what?

far away and
long ago
there is a child
i used to know
with wide sad eyes
asking why
not out loud but
deep inside
why do we live
why do we
die

those clouds those

insubstantial
faery vapors which
upheld us
have given way
to the ground
i wonder if we shall
walk together
as easily as we
flew

© Perle Champion
11/27/07 

sometimes in the evenings when
everything is still
with nothing but the sound of
wind in trees, and the call of birds is
faint and far away,
ideal thoughts fill my mind
pipe dreams of many things
of love and life and
wondering
where I’m bound.
flights of fancy tickle
my brain
spin me around with never
a sound
in their coming and only
a trace in my memory when
they’re gone.

© Perle Champion

Monday and I have nowhere to be. I work a 4-day week and it begins on Tuesday. I usually get up at 5a.m. anyway, but this morning I languished until daylight broke through my windows. 

The landlord calls this the sunroom, I call it the best of all possible bedrooms. 7 windows 3 facing south, 4 west so the room is sunny all day. 

This is the way to start the day.

My Dell laptop of 8 years caught a bug yesterday, and I left him in the capable hands of Elizabeth at Office Depot. I’m hoping she can retrieve my docs & pix. She’s hopeful, but no promises.

Either way, it’s time for a new computer. Crossing my fingers and asking all to send some good vibes my way.

Great people talk about ideas, average people talk about things, and small people talk about wine.  – Fran Lebowitz

But there’s a little of each in all of us, and I assure you many of those great, average and small people speak of their ideas and things over a glass of wine or two and pause to talk about the quality of that glass as well.

Also, it is not people who are great or average or small but the way we are in the world.  We can speak of ideas, but speaking isn’t doing; we can speak of things but know nothing about them; we can speak of wine as a pseudo-connoisseur or a true lover of the of the beverage in all high or low variations.

Rowling as Dumbledore said it best, “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

Call it Winter Solstice, Yule, darkest night or just plain December 22, but the day after, the days began to grow in length minute by minute.  That almost imperceptible lengthening of days is suddenly so obvious.  It is with indescribable pleasure that I walked out the door of my office building this evening to day instead of night just in time to bear witness to the most glorious sunset.

Next up, Imbolc (February 2) considered a traditional time for rededication and pledges for the coming year.  I made my pledges, née resolutions as usual on darkest night with candles lit, sipping iced champagne in a Baccarat  flute, and Blackmore’s Night streaming on Pandora.

Realizing that the reason most resolutions fail is because we try to change too many things at once, I began with just one on January 1 (post a blog a day).  I’ll add 2 new things on February 1 or Imbolc eve (sending out one query per day Monday – Friday, and drawing or painting one new thing on Saturday).

Each month, I’ll start one new thing and each day I’ll be grateful for the lengthening days to hold each new thing.

ENVY:  wanting what somebody else has: the resentful or unhappy feeling of wanting somebody else’s success, good fortune, qualities, or possessions transitive verb…

Envy.  It’s a natural reaction to another’s success, beauty or apparent ease in the world.  But is it deadly?  Or is the deadly part how we act on it.

Truth is, envy can be a good thing, if you leave out the resentment part.  The object of your envy has succeeded, and if it’s the kind of success you want in your life, decide what you need to do to accomplish similar success.

Bless it and you’ll be blessed, curse it and you curse yourself – it’s an old adage, which proves itself daily in our lives.  I don’t consider envy a deadly sin.  As with most things in our world, it is not the thing that is deadly, but how we use it.

From 5:05 until 6:30 this evening I and a number of my fellow-travelers enjoyed food, music and drinks courtesy of Club Bacchus and BankCorpSouth at one of Operation New Birmingham’s famous 5:05 meet and mingles.

The club is sparkling, and the dance floor on the second level took me back to my dancing days, complete with disco ball.  I finished up the evening, sipping, and chatting at a window table occasionally gazing out the window at 11^th street’s lights twinkling below and Vulcan shining just beyond on the mountain.

Listening to the singer on the bandstand, playing his acoustic guitar play to an inattentive audience, gave me pause.  I’m accustomed to people paying attention to me – good or bad, but never ignored.  I stopped mid-sentence and started a round of applause as he finished his last song. 

I like this place.  They allow smoking on the second floor which opens late for dancing,  my smokin’ (literally & figuratively) brother will love that, but no smoking in the pub on the first level.

Check  Club  Bacchus out if you get a chance.  I know I’ll be back.