Ten Things I Absolutely Love The Most:

1. Using a lint brush on the carpet in my closet, after vacuuming. No hair, dust, lint---then walking on it barefooted.

2. Once or twice a year, indulging in really crappy fiction. Popular, but crappy. Most valid reason for staying up late, (meaning after 8pm.)

3. Unexpected but not completely wacky paint colors on walls and doors. O-o-o-o-hhh

4. The solar-powered Santa bobble head super-glued to my dash in my car all year round. I especially love how he grooves to music on a sunny day.

5. Organizational office tools: 4 x 6 postits, sticky page flags, highlighters, chunky manuscript clips, colorful green pens (just cuz), file folders, unlikely cups for pens, my high-glazed ceramic dishes full of rubber bands and paper clips and lip stuff.

6. Having the AC on in December and January, but wearing a sweatshirt. Thanks Florida.

7. Christmas mugs for every beverage all year long.

8. Living most of my day in my head, where life is beautiful and I am blissed out 24/7. Which explains the funky smile on my face in the grocery store or walking the dogs. Sometimes it's the only happy place, so it's really important to have one. I have multi-colored settees, and macarame chandeliers. What does yours look like?

9. Shuffling a deck of Santa cards. OMG so much fun. Makes me very happy.

10. Ugh, the last one? Hmm. Dharma wheels and mandalas and hands of Fatima. All three depict a center, a soul. Or in sciencey speak, a second brain in our upper intestinal area. Whichever. I have a mad connection to my second brain. So much joy.

Tami's Brain Circle

Good morning. I am so zen right now, and I have a great idea.

I walked about 3 miles this morning. my car had an appointment to get detailed. You probably know what that means, but I really didn't until recently, and was so excited about the idea that I made an appointment for her. (I never thought of my car as a her until just this moment.)

So I brought her in, and walked home. The detailing will take about 4 hours. yeah, that long---because they are going to clean and steam and scrub every last bit of her insides. OHHH, so excited.
I walked home and it was quiet. I had no music to distract me, just my thoughts, and my breathing. It was nice to be alone and not working on anything or watching a screen. Like writing or painting or ceramics, but nothing in my hands. Just the thoughts. Some have said they like yardwork for the same reason. Built in thinking time.

So I was alone with myself, and I liked it. After about a mile, it was so very clear, this idea for me to stop facebooking on my phone. It's the last thing before bed, and the first when I wake up. I did it this morning! At first, I thought that I would just take it off of my phone---leaving instant messenger on so my fb people/family can reach me. With all of the political groups I belong to, I acknowledged how nice it is to see family stuff on there, my nieces and nephews, my siblings, my parents...

***The more that I read what other people think, the less I think for myself. I've created a pocket, a liberal political pocket, separate from other sections of humanity. Facebook timeline preferences create an unrealistic world and skews my perspective to think this pocket is more universal than I think it is. Maybe. Maybe it's the underbelly of 70% of society. Or maybe it's 10% and I perceive it to be more important.

After walking for 45 minutes, I feel like my mind and my soul is open to 360* around me. But with my facebook timeline, I'm only seeing 20% of the world, and that is so limiting.

I realize this is a creation of my own. I made this. Not facebook, but I have liked posts and followed pages. The more I use it the smaller my brain circle becomes. So I am expanding my brain circle, and taking fb off of my phone. I will be available and here if you need me. I may write on my blog periodically. And when I am ready, I will come back to fb and modify my groups and likes, etc. So that I can see better.

I will miss seeing pictures of family. I do like that. Most of family news I get on facebook, so that will not be a good effect. Maybe I will make more phone calls? (Smile) How primitive.

Big Truck

Noticed: rarely do I see a woman driving a huge pick up truck, the kind with six ginormous wheels and that measures as wide as two Prius' side-by-side. Sometimes with the words Heavy Duty and 4X4 emblems on the back. This is what I'm talking about:

Granted, I do not live in Texas, where I imagine women have been driving similar vehicles for generations. But only because that's the vehicle their husbands taught them to drive way back when. Male-driven society teaches "the little woman" how to drive.

I was driving behind this truck this morning, with it's polished silver exhaust pipe that could bathe in my bathtub. And I thought, as you would, He's compensating for something. And here is where I sit in judgement, I know. I'm a horrible person. But I'm telling the truth. I thought, This man needs this truck, needs to fill it up with tons of gas. He needs all that gas, because he needs that big truck. Which is re-stating, I know, but a man like that, needing all that gas, and (my next psychological step) not wanting to pay much for it, would most-likely (here's the stretch) vote republican. Am I wrong? Of course I'm not wrong. But, as Donald Trump so graciously has proclaimed, I have a problem being politically correct. Let's just tell the truth. The truth only hurts if your (an idiot) acting in ways that are irresponsible and show lower intelligence. I'm not hiding behind words here, I am willing and frankly able to communicate differences of opinion without punching, kicking or biting. I may mentally spit on you. Hours after we've talked. But I welcome any comments or feedback you'd like to share.

I feel bad for that man. I mean, we can't assume, as you may think I'm implying, that he has a small penis, therefore needs the big truck. The chances of all big truck drivers having small penises...come on, there can't be that many. I don't know how many such trucks are out there or were purchased last year. I am convinced that there must be either a childhood reason for the need, or father/mother issues...maybe an older brother beat up on him as a kid, and he never got over it. I feel compassion for that man.

On the other hand, what if there's not a conditioned factor that leads to the need for the truck? I guess there could be some genetic physiological explanation. Hmm. Or if it's a combination: you have this couplet of genes AND you are raised by not-so-good parents, for example, boom. Need Truck.