Someone suggested to me once that when you use the word “can’t,” you append the word “yet,” afterwards, as in:
“I can’t skydive . . . yet.”
“I can’t understand quantum physics . . . yet.”
“I can’t play the oboe . . . yet.”
The concept that we not limit ourselves by words is a sound one, although like any idea, it can be taken to the extremes of fanaticism.
Without being strangely compulsive, however, we have always tried to be upbeat about the resources at our disposal, using what we have to its maximum, and not wasting time grumbling about what we lack.
For years we didn’t have a pick-up, which is a handy item on acreage, but it’s amazing what you can fit into a car; we’ve carried everything from bales of hay to a full grown goat to two-dozen paintings, but not, incidentally, at the same time.
My latest car coup was the new washing machine, tucked into the back of the aptly named Honda Fit — it was amusing to watch the burly appliance loaders stride out, stop short in front of this deceptively tiny vehicle, shake their heads, and run through in their minds what they were going to say to the batty broad who assured them,
“It’ll fit.”
And it did. I dropped in on Eldest Supreme at work just so I could casually mention, “Oh, by the way, I have a washing machine in the back of the car.”
There was even room for groceries.
There’s something fun about being odd, blithely moving forward to accomplish things that everyone says you can’t — it’s difficult to do at first, but the more you practice, the easier it gets — to the point that, when you get really good at it, you find that you’re living your own life, as opposed to vicariously existing the way the people around you think you should be.
The downside is that you are odd, out of step with the other drummers, sometimes standing alone on a side street while the rest of the town is watching the parade on Main Street.
I thought of this the other day when I was running errands and every single person I encountered asked me, “Are you going to the circus tonight?”
What kind of Scrooge says “no” to a circus?
In the Hollow, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson
“How much does it cost?” I asked.
“$18 for adults, but your granddaughter would be FREE!”
One of the many skills in my repertoire is the ability to multiply a tw0-digit number by a single digit model, and $18 times four (me, the Norwegian Artist, and two progeny) plus $0 for the Toddler makes $72, which buys a lot of yarn, or, in the case of the Washing Machine Issue, meant that I stared blankly at the sales rep when he asked if I wanted to sign up for the six-months no interest plan or the 12-months one.
“If I didn’t have the money on hand to pay for this now, I wouldn’t be buying it,” I said.
After all, I’ve been holding my old washer’s hand for two years, or more aptly, applying pressure on the agitator mechanism, which doesn’t work properly unless I stand there and push down. Calling a repairman to a rural area and paying $100 up front for the 70-mile trip means it’s worthwhile to save up and wait for a good sale, which I did.
And now, instead of a visit to the circus — which really, between animals and people and life’s circumstances I have on hand every day — I’ve got this box on the front porch, waiting for the Norwegian Artist to set down his brushes in exchange for a little aerobic activity and weight lifting.
I took a break just now to pat Edward, the Useless Porch Kitty, and then smile at the big box, emblazoned with Washer/Laveuse/Lavadora.
If I get this much joy out of reading the box, then what will the actual washing machine produce?
Seriously, I think a circus would be too much for my emotional make up.
I can’t do it.
Yet.
Descent into Bryce, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson
What a great post!!! I love that you have learned to happily dance to your own beat, I’m still learning it, but getting better!! I get a kick out of things like new washing machines too!! Heck, I named my blog after my dishwasher!!!! Take care!!!
Hi Kathy: The washing machine doesn’t have a name yet, and I don’t foresee one. It was difficult enough coming up with monikers for each of the progeny, although with the dishwasher, I won’t have to have the Norwegian Artist’s agreement.
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
~Nietzsche
I hope you always dance to your own music.
Sandra: A lovely, image inspired quote. Thank you for that.
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Thank you so much for your very witty posts. I look so forward to reading them and marvel at your honesty and sense of humor! They always ring true for me and put a smile on my face.
Thank you, Kathryn. Being honest about “stuff” and doing so in a manner that is lighthearted and uplifting is my goal indeed.
Please consider passing me on to others, and if you have a newspaper in your area and like to chat with editors, please let them know that my articles are available for publication.
Best to you!
This is my first visit to your blog, and this post has made me smile in the most delightful, knowing way. And I love the images too! I must read more……
Welcome, Roberta, and I hope that we can visit often.
A smile is such a wonderful gift for the day. Thank you for giving me one of joy and pleasure from your kind comment. The images are those of Steve Henderson, the Norwegian Artist, my husband of 28 years. If you click on any of the images you can see a close up on the website. I have a rotating supply of paintings that I enjoy on the walls of my office, but I try not to fall in love with any of them because they head off to other people’s homes!
Thanks for this! I got here via reading your ‘don’t paint when angry’ essay, which was awesome. I will keep my eye out for more of your writing in the future!
Thank you Rod. Please consider signing up for e-mail updates of my weekly posts — it’s a two part process, unfortunately — you sign up for the updates through the website, then approve it through a message they send to you on e-mail. If there are any computer geniuses out there who know of a better and easier sign up process than the Google one, let me know!
I’m glad that you liked the Don’t Paint When Angry essay — good to know that that particular snafu that inspired the article bore good fruit!
You truly are a very gifted writer. Here I sit reading this while I have about a million other things to do right now. Somehow the other things will get done, but your words will stay with me throughout the rest of the day. Thank you for that……again.
Mary Ann: Thank you for your kind and gracious words — they are a balm to my soul.
I love writing. I love looking at what we deal with everyday in life and analyzing our common experience — there is such comfort in realizing that we are not alone in the things we feel or go through.
My dream some day is to be syndicated or published so that I can reach a wider audience. I work with this day by day because that is how dreams get accomplished — day by day. I ask my readers that, if they like what they see, they either pass my name on electronically to others, or they let their local newspaper know about me and request that they consider publishing an article.
Best to you!
Fabulous post – the bit about the fridge made me laugh so hard. I can’t tell you the number of creative ways I have packed things into my Prius after 3 or 4 snickering guys have insisted it can’t be done. And what great advice, adding the “yet” to the end of “I can’t do it.”
Oh, and by the way. I LOVE “Descent Into Bryce!” (I cannot paint like that … yet.)
Isn’t it a good feeling to one-up those snickering guys? Even if you’re the only one in the room that knows you’ve done it, since those snickering types just . . . don’t . . . get it.
Thank you for your lovely comment on Descent into Bryce. Just keep at it, learning, trying, striving, throwing the brush at the dog in frustration — you will grow into the painter that you are meant to be. I am appending a link to Steve Henderson’s (the Norwegian Artist) Customized, Personalized Workshops (http://stevehendersonfineart.com/workshops) in case you want to pursue further direction in that manner.
The mental image of two burly appliance men shaking their heads in disbelief made me giggle. But the ‘oh by the way, I have a washing machine in the car’ made me laugh out loud! I enjoyed your posts very much. I will be signing on…
Sandy: I’m glad that the images brought a smile; I still enjoy replaying the appliance men scene in my mind.
Thank you for signing on! Once you sign up for the e-mail notification, you will be sent an e-mail from Google asking you to click a link and signify your final approval. Please remember to do this — I have a number of people still pending because they haven’t done the final step.
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