Friday, October 26, 2018

Dog Head Void Brings Bliss


There was an article recently about the lack of thinking that goes through a dog's mind. Although I am a 'cat' person, the dog's way of empty thought ties us together. This morning, as every morning for over fifteen years, I awoke to the much anticipated, overwhelming joy of breakfast smoothie: frozen fruit and lemonade. Fifteen years. Every morning. Still euphoric.

It gets me giddy just contemplating the noise of the blender joining the two into one. Like the sound of dog food hitting the bowl. Does life get any better? Turns out it does. The day ended with a glass of Bordeaux and a sliver of tiramisu. There must have been something that happened between the two events, but after those heavenly blessings--who cares?

And the apple does not fall far from the tree. After several days in ICU, Dad was sent back home today. Not only is he doing better, he's performing in a drumming gig tomorrow night. The sound of beating sticks is too much for my paternal lineage to resist. It may take an ambulance to get him there, but he must beat on drums. Addicted like a golden retriever to a thrown tennis ball. But then, this is rock and roll.

What are your ties to the empty brain of the canine? What overly simplistic hobby, job, or ritual sets your tongue to flop out your mouth? I'm pretty sure if you don't have something, you must live the bleakest of lives. A desert of monotony. Moral decay. Or, gasp, a dog hater of some kind. If this is you, for goodness sake, get help. There must be a group you could join: watching rocks crumble, plucking thorns from roses, curling. Dogs will love you when you get to their level of life enjoyments. You will always have something to bark about with them.

When the boys were little, the grandest joy was the cardboard box. Yes, this is a common one with kids. But these two stepped it up a notch into something dangerous. Again, the apple does not fall far.
Before parenting became my favorite part of life, I never dreamt this would be a needful House Rule:

You Are Not Allowed To Wear A Box On Your Head

At first glance, you may assume that I was a miscreant mother. Out to destroy joy, and childhood laughter. Please, hear me out. When two energetic boys run through the house, unable to see and knocking over everything in their path, things get broken. Many things. Many, many things. Hence, the House Rule. Now, does that remind you of a pack of playful St. Bernard puppies? Did to me too.

You must be wondering about our puppers. Their kind of bliss is more complicated than the average dog. There is the morning trip to the coffee shop where all patrons know them and stop to pet the attention starved mongrels. Breakfast of dog chow and raw hamburger--scrumdidiliumptious. Mid-morning run at the beach. Nap. Bark at passing dogs while peering out the living room window. Nap. Run around backyard, wrestle, argue with neighbor dogs through the fence. Nap. Second walk around farm behind our house. Nap. Dinner, complete with biscuits. Be petted. Sleep. Repeat next day.

Wow, no wonder dogs have no time to think. Too much to do in one day. I'm glad my day is less full. I can barely handle getting a perfect balance of lemonade and berries. 

You know who can accomplish more than a Jack Russell Terrier in a day and still laugh? Ellie, the elephant with attitude living in Scout's backyard. A must read for all who know about mindless giggles.



Heather Leigh,
Your favorite, empty-headed author 

Tuesday, October 2, 2018

The Vice and The Somersault


I have a weekly vice  of a glass bottle of Mexican Coca-Cola. It is bottled in Mexico, hence our family  nickname for it. Aren't we intelligent? The taste is better than the plastic one of the States because pressed sand tastes better than oil-produced plastic. The sweetener is cane sugar, not yucky high fructose corn syrup. The glass shape is pretty and easy to grip. It is charming to look at. Inviting. Old School.

When I deposited money at the bank two days ago, I made certain to retain two one dollar bills, so I would be ready to buy my unhealthy addiction on the way home from Wednesday morning Laughter Yoga. I drank the soda with left overs from last night: Mongolian BBQ at Wasaki's restaurant in the south part of Arcata. As this was not quite enough to satiate my hunger, I also fried a stone ground corn tortilla and filled it with Daiya non-dairy cheddar cheese. Then, I sat down and started reading The New York Times Magazine article about art becoming a necessity only if it related to current worldly events, or gave a 'message' that would cram more personal growth down your throat.

This got me thinking about Duncan's Somersault. I keep this scene in my mind's catalogue under 'events that keep me an appreciator of the pleasures of the simple things in life'.

Once a year, at the K-8th grade charter school that my boys attended, there was a wonderful Talent Show. Wonderful in talent, but more so because of the wildly passionate, supportive audience of parents and staff.

Duncan, age six, got up on stage in his new white belt karate uniform. Laying out a yoga mat, he crouched down, tucked his head, and did a somersault. Then, he got up and bowed to the crowd. As we did for every act, we clapped, cheered, and stomped our feet in appreciation. He rolled back up his mat, and left the stage as the noise continued.

He was not Pavarotti's granddaughter wowing us with perfect pitch opera, not a young Michael Jackson belting out ABC 123, nor a twelve year old addressing the UN about Climate Change. He was our Duncan, doing his thing.

While you go about our life dreaming of the big things you are missing out on, remember to:
relish your mini vices
 taste the good food in your mouth 
keep a running list of simple pleasures in your life

   Please share in the comment section below what your good stuff is.


One of the best ways to experience a simple pleasure that is a virtue, not a vice is massage. 
Maximize your relaxation:



Heather Leigh,
Simple Lover of Simple Pleasures