KNOW THYSELF

Writer, Adam Smith said, “The first thing you have to know is yourself. A man who knows himself can step outside himself and watch his own reactions like an observer.”

I submit that his philosophy applies to women, too. That's just what the heck I'm doing--stepping outside and observing,  and it's kind of amusing.  It's official. I can't hang anymore. I know it. Rest is quickly eclipsing other things on my list of dire needs.

I'm drinking tea, eating dry toast and looking for the Visine. I've stretched so much, I think it could count for a legitimate fitness work-out. It's a good thing I'm not a drinker of hard stuff, or I would be an even hotter mess-- with more about which to amuse myself. I'm tired, and I know I slept last night. I have the embossed lines in my arm and face, hair all over the place, and remnants of a dream to prove it.

I'm glad my sister called around 9:30 or I would still be dreaming. That old school telephone ring I chose is probably not the sound to which you want to wake up. It is so very-old school-black-rotary-phone-like, and might be mistaken for something coming from a good, ol' classic program airing in Antenna TV, whereby one would ignore every incoming phone call.
The lovely event at La Fontaine Bleu, last night, ended with dancing and socializing, but what is that after 11:00 PM? Good grief. All I wanted to do after the very engaging preacher/MC said "Amen", was take off those silver pumps and replace them with my trusty black patent flats. (Thank you very much, Target.)
Someone commented that, back in the day, we would just be getting ready to go out, deciding where to go, or leaving one place to go to another. That got a collective, hearty laugh from the circle of 50 somethings who'd just celebrated a 65 year old. The hippest and only place to be these days at or around 11:00 PM, we concluded, is somewhere near, or completely buried under the comforter in one's bed.
I'm ashamed to say my childhood friend and I left people who I'm sure had us by 15 years, still alert and tearing up the floor. He didn't even have to ask me if I was ready to go. I do believe if he hadn't been, I may have lost all sense of decency and stolen his car. I'm even more ashamed to say we walked out ahead of a man in a wheelchair. *sigh*
It occurred to me that I have two things to do today. I'm going to see "Sparkle" this afternoon ( for the film of course, but mostly for the popcorn. Have you met me?" ) . This evening, my little sister is in concert at Blues Alley. I'm going to the 10:00 PM show. ( Have I met myself? )My mantra? "I will stay awake. I will stay awake. I WILL stay awake." It's not like I have to drive, or work, or do anything at either place except sit and be thoroughly entertained. It's the getting ready to go, however that is challenging me today. 

Today I needed a running start. You know. Wake up, realize you're awake, focus, remember where you are, look around, thank God you're coherent and conscious, restore feeling to one or more extremities, remember what day it is, identify the blinding thing bursting through the blinds as the Sun....
My other manta? "Do not dawdle. Do not dawdle. Do NOT dawdle." Whew. Where are those vitamins I bought and never opened? I'm pretty sure they'll be more effective if I actually ingest them.
Lord, thank you for strength to open the child-proof bottle...: )