“Don’t think about it so much” was the enigmatic message inside my Dove “Promises” bon-bon.
It does seem like a fortuitous comment, although I’m not precisely sure what “it” might be. I do have a few ideas.
Frankly, I tend to do a lot more thinking than actual doing. I think about writing, and scrap book pages, painting walls, and scrubbing floors and even the big “it.”
One faith promoting rumor about the LDS President Spencer W. Kimball was he had on his desk a plaque inscribed with the simple words “Do It.”
I really should.
I don’t know why I am such a muller. I ponder endlessly over my need to get some exercise, make a Christmas list, put some lotion on the scaly stuff on my feet and decontaminate the bathroom.
But thinking is so much easier than doing.
The little rodent on the wheel in my head is always running in endless, pointless circles.
Maybe I should just get up and do it.
Or maybe I should throw away this wrapper and get a new one with a better message.
Oh bother, new candy same message.
The boys are making lemonade out of the tree in our back yard. True, they can no longer climb up the tree, but now they can crawl through it. A has made a game of wiggling through the limbs to get to the ice cream in the deep freezer on the other side.
L, who is no fan of heights, now gets to have a tree house without actually leaving the ground.
I’m certain they will have a jolly time tomorrow helping the men cut up and haul away the tree, too.
I have been remarkably composed about whole thing. A asked me today why I cried when the tree butchers (a.k.a. the power company) came and “trimmed” the tree last year and I’m so calm now. I can’t really explain it, except I’ve been thinking too much about other things and can’t really process the tree loss right now.
Or, it could be I am a little more sanguine about an act of nature than I am about a deliberate act on the part of man. Nature is completely random. People, on the other hand tend to really push my buttons.