Let me first address the hideous elephant in the website: It has been a while since my last post. I was swamped. I still am, but you are far more important to me than that, and nothing should ever come between us like that again, don't you agree? You made dinner for two and set the table; I said I would call if I was going to be late, and I never did. I do sincerely apologize. I feel as though we are at that place in this literate relationship of ours, where we can forgive and move on...a year from now I imagine we'll all think of this silly happenstance and laugh--you'll see.
In order to regain your gracious trust and faithful attendance, I give a nod today, to you, the reader. Give yourselves a round of applause. Rarely in life do you get the opportunity to applaud your own self, so I suggest you really let loose and give yourself a downright standing ovation; really let yourself have it, really make a scene. You deserve it. Throw in a cheer--a little "woo, woo!" There's no need to explain your completely rational behavior to others. Proudly applaud, and let applaud.
I think there are 3 times in life when we can deservedly and acceptably applaud our behavior...
The first phase of rooting for ourselves begins in our first years of existence, from womb to age 2. As infants, small accomplishments become seemingly enormous and practically super-human feats of strength and agility to our nurturers. The mumbling of a little one's first comprehensive words engages parents, now elated by their little prodigy's new talent, into a raging fit of encouragement--"Look how smart you are! Momma's little Punkin! Yayy!! [clap-clap-clap] Can you say it again? Can you say it again? Yayy! [clap-clap-clap]" Again, the young bundle of joy delivers an encore performance and applauds his new-found skill. The glorious cycle of praise, clapping, and laughter (clapter, if you will), continues: a valid excuse for self-applause.
Perhaps had I known, at such a young age, that being "so big!" was merely an amusing game, I may not have vigorously applauded myself as I did, each time I threw my drool laden hands in the air.
Soon the tot's first birthday arrives, and, of course, this incredible achievement merits an elaborate party. Every year, living rooms across America are filled with droopy Mylar balloons, blue crepe paper that is constantly being re-taped to the textured ceiling, donkey tails pinned in error as a random assortment on the wall, and a clueless 1-year old who has no idea that today is his birthday. "Today is your birthday," we all tell him, "These are your friends." "Yayy!! [clap-clap-clap]" All applaud, the youngster again finds himself gleaming with adoration of his big day. Again, clapping for ones self is in order. And why not? After all, you didn't make it to this day just by inadvertently filling your pants and committing acts of pervasive drooling; it was hard work, and should be rightly rewarded with applause. The cake is wheeled out soon thereafter, with an edible image imprinted into the frosting. "Today is your birthday," he is reminded. Cameras flash from all angles as the birthday boy jubilantly delves into his cake, pausing to applaud his efforts between shoveling cake into every crease of his skin. After Mom whips a freshly damp washcloth from her hip holster, the crowd and the guest of honor again applaud his cleanliness.
Every word of this example, by the way, is strikingly identical to your last few birthdays in life..."Today is your birthday, these are your friends." And you you didn't make it to that day just by inadvertently filling your pants and committing acts of pervasive drooling, either (Depend, anyone?). Again, one's own applause is completely acceptable.
The second acceptable self-applause phase is when the child grows up and enters the world of business. Approximately 1/4 of a working man's work week is consumed by meetings (although more often than not, 3/4 of the attendees have no idea why they are there). With suit and tie in check, a keynote speaker enters the room. All involved scribble notes into a notepad (always with a "clicky" style pen, never another kind), and exchange ideas on how to improve the net growth of banana sales, or how to reduce the environmental impact of plastic wrappers, or why clicky-style pens are such a necessity. The discussion ends, and the room breaks out in every one's own applause, which is always preceded by "Nice work, everyone. Let's break for lunch [clap-clap-clap]."
The third phase, of course, is when you faithfully return here to frequently read by daily shenanigans. My fellow readers, I thank you. Give yourselves a round of applause. You deserve it.
Peace out,
H
Every word of this example, by the way, is strikingly identical to your last few birthdays in life..."Today is your birthday, these are your friends." And you you didn't make it to that day just by inadvertently filling your pants and committing acts of pervasive drooling, either (Depend, anyone?). Again, one's own applause is completely acceptable.
The second acceptable self-applause phase is when the child grows up and enters the world of business. Approximately 1/4 of a working man's work week is consumed by meetings (although more often than not, 3/4 of the attendees have no idea why they are there). With suit and tie in check, a keynote speaker enters the room. All involved scribble notes into a notepad (always with a "clicky" style pen, never another kind), and exchange ideas on how to improve the net growth of banana sales, or how to reduce the environmental impact of plastic wrappers, or why clicky-style pens are such a necessity. The discussion ends, and the room breaks out in every one's own applause, which is always preceded by "Nice work, everyone. Let's break for lunch [clap-clap-clap]."
The third phase, of course, is when you faithfully return here to frequently read by daily shenanigans. My fellow readers, I thank you. Give yourselves a round of applause. You deserve it.
Peace out,
H
2 comments:
no excuses
Yeaaaaaaah for Heather! One great big woo hoo echoed in my house. It was almost as grand as "clapter" if I do say so myself. Minus the drool....I think, anyway!
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