my thoughts written in lower case

dear friend,

thank you for sending me the email regarding the gardener you’ve asked me to pass along and were you stated: "i hate doing this, but…”.

i find it interesting, how often we do things we hate doing. case in point is how you and all of us at some point when we’re faced with the task of not breaking the chain of these well-intended blessings, prayers, jokes, money angels, psalms, buddha wisdom and now the flowers, which my friend had sent to me against her better judgment recently.

though in our heart of hearts we really don’t believe our lives will change by doing this frivolous and simple act (which we hate doing),  our fear causes us to dither back and forth on the chalk line. invariably we succumb to the task.  conversely, should we decide not to play this game which causes us to do so in ten secs flash, where we scurry around in our memory banks to hustle up the names of our dearest and best ten fav friends, to whom we must send this sort of email on to, in order to assure ourselves that the circumnavigation chain of these valuable missives will not be broken.  in turn, the recipients will do the same. most will begin by saying, “I hate to send these kinds of….” eventually the blessings or money might come might back and bite us all in the ass. so far, i have not won any money from this type of lottery!

on the subject of fear,  is our growing old. we know we can't do a damn thing about it.  to this, the other day i was listening to the leonard lopet show on national public radio. or perhaps i was watching tee vee. as you can tell, my confusion as to which form of media i was engaged -- listening to/or watching, has completely left the room!!!. with certainty my lapses of memory is a clear sign of me lacking daily large doses of gingko.

anyway, as i move further into life, which  i prefer to say rather than using the "o" or "a" words --  that somehow by me not uttering these three letter words is my way of veiling the truth about getting older. further, by me not mouthing the truth, might somehow miraculously stall  life's progression. and then i think to myself, "well honey what about old money and old cars (as in vintage ) or wine and the old country? none of these seem to bother me. so how is it that when i speak about time’s passing, do my thongs get all twisted in a bunch! um i am not referring to my havaianas flip flops here! 

are you laughing yet?  

anyway, the other day there was a wise woman on lopet’s show, as i began to say a few paragraphs ago. she spoke about  the tick-tocking of our personal clocks that will undoubtedly stop one day.  she asked the listening audience, "why are we so afraid of growing old? adding, can't we get it that aging is a gift, rather than something we must fear and fight to the teeth. the teeth by the way, which we habitually and ferociously whiten to look younger.  btw have you ever watched old movies on turner movie classics, say one starring charlton heston, playing god or one of those old dudes from biblical times, who’s teeth are as yellow as lemons!  just wondering.

further, how is it that we use hair dyes to cover ‘the grey” and diet pills to get back to the clothes size we wore when we  were ten years old, and potions of anti-aging creams, which we smear on our faces and bodies in such a frenzy that one would think our minds were slightly bent toward the left? (or right). this is not political thinking on my part, but something that runs straight down the middle of the aisle of life and  death.

eternally yours,

 moi mahmoudah

ps: omg!!! its suddenly , lightening and thundering outside!!!!! i wonder if is this a sign from god,  aka charlton heston, that i will be damned for the rest of my years, because i broke the chain by not sending the flowers from the gardener my friend had sent me even though she hated to do so, on to someone, which I utterly hate to do and therefore have refused to play the hold my breath and wait game any longer!

oh well.