I Only Mention It But…

One of the great things about getting older is that I really, for the first time in my life, honestly don’t give a rat’’s ass if people like me, my sartorial style, paintings, photos or not. Sure, sure, I PREFER being liked but here at the august (July too but not September) age of 60 (almost 61!!!!)  I’ve found that it’s more important for me to like my own-self.

So, I wear practically nothing else besides tie dye Ts and yoga pants. They're comfortable. Better still, if I’m down, donning a bright, swirlingly colored shirt lifts my spirits. Also too, now that I no longer need prescription sunglasses, I get mine from the kiddy display at  CVS. The selection is a shit-ton more colorful and fun than the adult selection.

So, the walls of my house are covered in doodles, paintings and drawings. I didn’t take pains to match my mural colors to those in my rugs OR curtains (curtains, by the way, are all those 1960s cheap hippy/groovy style beaded affairs). Living inside a a gallery's worth of paintings and objet d'art calms me and makes me happy.

So, while I take great care to do unto others as I wanna be done unto, if someone’s consistently unable to rise to the kindness occasion…well, boyhowdy…out the airlock they go. From time to time I DO miss some of the air-locked individuals but then I remember.

Speaking of kindness – Ten and I hit NETA on Friday. The line to get in was longer than usual, resembling an airport TSA queue. It was a hot day with the sun beating down and y’all know me and hot weather are NOT buds. The line was moving at a glacial pace (post global warming but STILL not rapidiamente). I‘d had quite enough of the standing around in the blazing sunshine, thenkyew veddy much, and plopped my ass down on the asphalt.

Ten went up to the line minder and asked if I could step out, sit in the shade and rejoin him when it was his turn to enter the shop. Simple request, no?  They went WAY better – immediately pulling us both out of line, escorting us directly into the store where another weed worker kindly, compassionately ushered us up to the FRONT of the very long in-store queue. Another young man then brought me a chair AND 600 bottles (more or less) of cold water (which they’d been distributing outside) while I waited for our transaction to be completed.

Yep, I'll def be frequenting this establishment again.

This, naturally, brings us to the song for today!
Try a Little Tenderness – Otis Redding