Don't take yourself (myself) so seriously!

I don't remember which book it was, but she said it. Surprising how often I find myself quoting her, or at least referring. But she's right.

Don't take yourself so seriously! Lighten up, laugh a little.

I've realized lately that if one were to peruse my blog, they might think I'm a serious soul more often than not.

I'm all about intentional living, but being intentional can lean a little to the serious side pretty easily. How about intentionally pursuing joy?

I don't often reflect it here, but I'm actually a bit of a nut, with a somewhat quirky sense of humor; I laugh too loud and sometimes snort, and am straight-forward enough that once in awhile I'm inappropriate. Or at least not completely a southern lady.

Sidenote: I still remember, growing up, when our mother said 'damn' we knew. She'd had it and the six of us had best make ourselves scarce for awhile. Cub Sweetheart tells me when his mother started banging on the piano, in the basement, he knew she was mad at his Dad and cut her a wide path...

So here's the other side of me - the one I need / want to show more of here:

I named our dog after Lily Tomlin because she makes me laugh every single day, and who doesn't need that? The fact that her haircuts cost as much as mine, and are needed as often, and she scoots her rear end across our carpet now and then, when things get a little itchy, oh well. It's hard to put a price on laughter that goes all the way down to the bottom of your soul. When I walk in and say 'woop woop' and she scootches her hiney down to the floor, then starts tearing around the house, in break-neck circles it's the best laugh of the day. When I grab the box of Cheezits from the pantry and she comes tearing across the house, it makes me laugh every single time. Did anyone else know, by the way, cheezits are perfect with red or white wine?

When I drive the littles, we play my 'littles playlist' through the cars speakers, and sing Hakuna Matata or the theme from the Lego movie at the top of our lungs, with the windows down, because that's the perfect way to start a day I think.

My favorite comedian of all time is Red Skeleton, and Carol Burnett tugging on her ear is right behind. I still have such sweet memories of Red Skeleton sweeping up his shadow, on stage, at the end of a routine. Oh that we had someone out there today, who was genuinely funny and wouldn't make me blush to listen to with our grown kids...

Cub Sweetheart, who does a respectable imitation of Mickey Mouse for the grandkids upon request, loves my completely horrible rendition of Mr. Ed, the talking horse. My 'hawk call' sounds much more like squawking hawks, but my family is endeared to it, especially when we're around a lot of other people who do not know us.

I'm better read than formally educated, so I come up with some crazy pronunciations. Words I know but have never heard aloud, and somehow they always come out completely wrong. I'm famous for it. A running family joke, my pronunciations.

I cannot tell a joke to save my soul. The closest I get is this:

Why didn't the tiger eat the clown? Because he thought he'd taste funny.

I'm convinced it's genetic from my mother. She's miserable at jokes too, but she still tries and that's always good for a laugh.

My hands down favorite lunch is fritos and bean dip, with a diet coke, which I recently gave up because I found out diet coke removes paint from metal. I try to prefer salad, but I just don't. I like the big fritos better, BTW.

I've repeatedly asked my family to play 'Happy Girl' by Martina McBride, at my funeral. They have repeatedly refused. So I've shifted to asking that it is played at the meal afterwards, when they'll all be sitting around laughing over all my goofy personality traits - the song would make the perfect background for the conversation I know will flow freely. If weddings can be more upbeat nowadays, with couples dancing down the aisle to some tune, why can't funerals? I swear I'm writing it in my final plans, so if they don't play it, at least they'll feel guilty.

Sometimes I over think, over analyze, over complicate. Sometimes I'm sad or hurt or overwhelmed, but most days, about 360 days of the year, I wake up happy and silly and think fritos and bean dip make the perfect lunch.

So there you have it - sunny, happy Monday. Plans for the day include taking the littles to feed ducks, draw on the driveway with chalk, and make peanut butter cookies, then eat said peanut butter cookies in bed - crumbs be damned (see what I mean?!), and finish my book.

So how about you? Serious or silly or a combination, or maybe you need more of one than the other? Life is too short, or too long, depending on how a body looks at it, to be so serious.

Sidenote: photo is of two of our grandchildren, on an ordinary summer day. Oh to be more like them!

Blessings,
Bev

PS If you have any good jokes, feel free to leave them here. I have one particular grandchild who loves to trade them with me.