Exploration of Death

We often 'trip the light fantastic' with our tongues, languishing over our details of life, wondering just how wonderful would the end of life be . . . death, actual death.  Yet most have no idea what those feelings could remotely entail, but rather think 'oh, it's an end to the day, to the day's troubles, to the current moment of pain,' and yet know they will wake upon the morrow and things will not have changed.  And they are still alive.  Alive, breathing, living, and facing the same things that had them pondering the release of death just the night before.  So what is the draw?  What is this pain that propels them forward with the idea that death is the escape they crave?  The release they need?  The solution to the unbearable pain that courses through the synapses of their brains, the nerves at the tips of their fingers, and the blood that washes endlessly over the membranes of their heart?

Well, how is this for procrastination for you?  It is almost a year past since I posted my first entry.  Life hasn't been in my favor, and all manner of what-nots and what-have-yous plagued my ability to keystroke thoughts.  It was not a daily life I enjoyed.  It wasn't a daily life I was enjoying when I started the blog.  Time to push past my mental and get on with it . . .

I Just Wanted a Piece of Toast ~

Let's just say that the morning did not go as planned. I was up with Miss Olivia, all bright sunshine and smiles, wishing I had another 14 or so hours to sleep. We dance through the ritual of first light, diaper change, shower for me (also known as a 'brief encounter with water'), and downstairs to wake up the house and the parrots. Warming the bottle, the Bean plays with blankie and Pony Chad, putting those first two teeth to the test. The bottle beeps, the feeding begins, and all seems right with world. A good burp, some sitting upright time, then onto the playmat while I proceed to feed and clean-up the parrots . . . Grab some bread, only a few slices left - so march over to the list on the fridge and scribe *bread* - pop two into the toaster - click! "Wake Up!!" Maximus commands, "wake up!!" Then kisses and pretty birds upon delivering fresh pellets, veggies and water. Next up Mojomoto, who whispers everything in the most adorable way possible, climbing onto my shoulder to help me out with his vittles. Hmmmm? Shouldn't the toast have popped? Is that fire I smell? RATS! Round one to the trash. Mojo off to eat, two more pieces into the toaster, check the setting - lightly browned, yes, the way momma like - and off to Chumley & Tiny Girl for their morning grub. Loads of vegetables for these two, or Tiny will have words with you about the portion since it is her favorite thing after all (well, right now until that toast is ready and then you had best share). Phone rings for the fourth time since 8 am - really? another solicitor trying for something or another, and I just let the voicemail pick-up. Quick run to the loo, and then - is that smoke I smell? I stride quickly to the toaster . . . what? DOUBLE RATS! Second round lost. Now there is nothing left but the end, and I just don't like that much crust. But the parrots are quite sure I am eating the most scrumptious slice of toast ever made without them, so I toss it in briefly, staring at it the entire two minutes, where it give up a perfect golden brown morsel right on time. Again I say "really?". Humph! At least the birds munched away with beaks of pleasure, Olivia still watching wondering what I am going to do about it all, random toy in mouth getting chewed. I decide I will just stick my chai latte wondering at what point the morning shifted on me when all I really wanted was a piece of toast! (maybe with some butter and jam).