Feel Good 5 Friday … What’s in Your Wallet?

I’ve been accused of having a Costanza wallet.

 

The kind, where you keep all the receipts … you know, just in case. The beefy kind of wallet where the flap doesn’t quite reach the button and it would never fit in your back pocket unless you’d want to be sitting lopsided. The kind of wallet where you still have baby and preschool pictures of your kid but he’s already going on off to college. The kind that still has your expired zoo membership card just in case.

That’s me.

I’m the keep-it-just-in-case person. I feel there are a lot of things you can tell about a person just from their wallet. Whether they have any pictures or not, says something. Pictures of your kids playing baseball, soccer, hockey, basketball. Spring, Summer, Winter Sports. Their changing faces each year and different uniforms, make you look at the pictures for an extra minute. Maybe the type of credit cards or gift cards to preferred stores. Hidden messages on post-it notes that inspire or push you in the right direction. . Business cards of favorite pastry shops or restaurants give you an insight as to whether they enjoyed pizza or Ramen on Saturday nights. All these little clues add up to pieces of who you are and who you’ve become.

Me. 

I’m the Costanza wallet keeper. I enjoy Pho on cloudy days, pizza thin crust from up the street with mushrooms on days I’m too tired to cook, Pad Prik King and Tom Yum on Friday nights when I want something savory, and fresh Sunday morning buttery flaky croissants from the French bakery down the street.

Restaurant business cards. 

Could drive people bananas, but when I reach in and get that 11th free hair cut card from Marlita, it feels good to have that just-in-case mentality set. And then there’s the coupons. CVS. It’s ridiculous.

I do clean the wallet out from time to time of course, when the receipts and paper seem to wanna bust out. I find an old lottery ticket and remember the story of the older secretary lady who was upset at her boss one day and was cleaning out her purse and found an old lottery ticket that was a Mega Million Jackpot. I think that could be you and this could be that ticket. But no. Never happens. So it eventually goes in the trash.

I find my Dad’s and Uncle Erick’s obituary. I gently unfold the wrinkled paper and look at their picture. I remember that face and that life and a twinge of pain hits my heart, electric static rises through my spine and makes its way to the top. I take a deep breath and stare at it for a minute, before neatly folding it back and tucking it back in its place.

And then I find the mini post-it notes I write to myself or the ones my kids wrote to me and a smile comes over my face. Sometimes you need that kind of advice or pick-me-up just to keep you going that day. I still have a small flyer given to me in 1995, 1996. A kid just passing out Christmas flyers for his church handed me one and it happen to be a day where I was struggling. A small cartoon of a kid and a Christmas tree, smiling. An invitation letting you know you weren’t alone this holiday season, even if you felt alone. The universe, God, Karma, the community, they were there. And so I read it, and it was a little less darker that day. Even though they might have printed hundreds, I felt the message was written especially for me.

I keep that in my Costanza wallet as a reminder. And it makes me feel good, as does the random music lists of songs piled in there. Feel good songs that take me back to tough childhood days of my youth that ended up proving to be some of the best memories. Feel good songs that made up the best mixed tapes. Feel good songs I turn up while doing chores or driving down the street in order to take me way back.

The Costanza Wallet.

Pieces of me and clues that add up to a good story.

So as they say, what’s in your wallet?

Buen Camino my friends …

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Genesis — Invisible Touch

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Cameo — Word Up

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Bando Machos — El Gato y El Raton

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David Bowie — Modern Love

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Nena — 99 Luftballoons

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Monday Flashback: Gravity and Ice Packs

The last time I remember falling this hard was at a high school track and field competition, I mean I’ve fallen before, plenty of times in my adulthood and parenthood parts of my life, but you know there are those times that you remember, reeeeeeeeally remember. The ones that stick with you when you can picture what you were wearing, the time of day, who was there, the street you were on, if anyone saw you, and maybe the sting of the dirt or pebbles that broke your flesh open.

Yeah those stick with you. High-school track meet. 400-metter hurdles. Yeah that was a big one.

I added to that epic list this weekend and ice packs were necessary.

I didn’t break anything, I’m fine. But I was reminded that gravity is still a very powerful force. I find that potholes and long laces often contribute to these stumbles as well, but I can’t tell you how this actually happened. I had double knotted my shoes, but the laces were still pretty long, and I hadn’t tucked them, so can’t be sure what caused it but it happened.

I found it interesting that while my right knee and both hands were bleeding, I didn’t stop. I got up. Jogged for a bit to make sure the potential cars passing by had not witnessed this epic crash, which in fact no one did, unless they had video recording doorbell ringers that captured it for their amusement. But I doubt it, a lot of tall bushes and gates.

After a couple minutes of jogging, I walked for a bit. I pressed my shirt against the palms of my hand to try and stop the bleeding, and squeeze my hand to try and stop the throbbing painful sensation but it didn’t stop.

Then I had a flashback of my son at one of his first triathlons. Right after my race the kids race had begun and during the race he had take a tumble during the excitable and crowded field of SpongeBob-watching population. He winced a bit, got up, and kept going before I got a chance to ask him if he was OK. I had gone into mom mode immediately, but he waved me off and kept going. When he got to the finish line I was so proud of him for finishing the race. It was hard, an unexpected obstacle. But he persevered. Big smiles, big hugs, and high-fives at the finish line.

I remember taking our picture after the race, smiling with our medals and the pride he felt in himself. In getting up after that fall, not giving up, and the smile on his face when I saw him at the finish line. I remembered all this as I walked along my running route with my hands still bleeding. The marks of The Stumbler. The one who falls, and stumbles, but continues to get back up.

I smiled thinking of my son. I squeezed my hand, tried to make a fist, and finished the 3-mile run. Sometimes kids give you that extra push you need, even when they’re not there. And ice packs still feel good after Band-aids and Neosporin.

Beware … gravity is still very powerful.

Buen Camino my friends …

Feel Good 5 Friday on a Sunday Night …

I remember walking into the room and looking at the tapestry hanging from the ceiling, the Grateful Dead Poster, a computer with a printer, the framed John Lennon print and beads. Lots of beads.

I was like … Holy Crap!

I was an inner-city kid and none of that was in my suitcase. Posters of Magic Johnson and the Dodgers were rolled up under my arm. We were working class she was upper-upper class. She looked like she was going to Woodstock and I looked like I bought all my clothes at FootLocker.

My first day on campus, in a college dorm and I thought … this is gonna be an interesting year. I didn’t know why … why would they pair us up? Turned out we were both not morning persons. Alarms would ring, we’d hit the snooze, or quietly get up while the other one was sleeping and get ready. If we happen to wake up at the same time, a comfortable silence, followed by a nod and a hey and we were OK with that. No need for Miss Sunshine right out of bed. We understood each other that way. We wouldn’t see each other all day, then at night we’d have our talks. Lights would be out we’d be ready to go to sleep and then we’d just start talking in the dark. Me in my year-old comforter from home, her with her brand new goose down blanket probably from Macy’s or something. We’d talk about all kinds of things. About the day. About classes. About the dude who called me and woke us up at 3 a.m to declare his undying love for me after multiple beers. About the R.A. not being thrilled about that. About her family. About her boyfriend. About the girls down the hall. We had a lot night talks before we dozed off.

A couple of decades have gone by and I hadn’t thought of Saige since our freshman year. I didn’t see her on campus once since the end of our first year. I had wished her luck and given her a hug on the last day. Learning to live with someone completely different from me was an experience I didn’t forget. But she hadn’t crossed my mind in a really lonnnnnnnnnng time.

Then today, for some reason, she did. Does that happen to you? Random channel and then bam! Reminds you of someone from back in the day. I bet everyone out there remembers their freshman roommate’s name. It was an experience for everyone.

I think I might have remembered her because the Grammy’s were on tonight and she had such different taste in music. I didn’t watch the show, but I knew it was on because as I was switching the channels this girl with a bucket hat with green and black hair sticking out from it had won. Reminded me a little of Saige, and it took me back to that first day.

She was supposed to major in Women’s Studies, but don’t know if that happened. It could have … She’s a midwife now who traveled to India and Mexico. She’s also a nurse or physician’s assistant I think. She’s helps people. I knew she would always do something in the realm of helping women, or being an advocate for women. And I was happy to hear about that.

That’s funny you’re sitting there having dinner listening to your kid talk about his history report and as he turns on the television you see someone that takes you on a flashback field trip.

Buen Camino …

Grateful Dead — Shakedown Street

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Crystal Water –100% Pure Love

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Banda Vallarta Show — Provocame

Mr. Big — To Be With You

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Extreme —More Than Words

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Feel Good 5 Friday … On a Saturday Morning The Universe and Signs

One-uppers.

I’m sure you’ve met one in your life. You probably have an acquaintance at work, or at school, or in your family and right about now, you’re probably not missing them. Not at all.

One of my biggest pet peeves.

You’re in mid-conversation talking about how you just ran your first 5k and they be telling you they just ran the marathon for the seventh year in a row. You’re on the phone retelling the epic saga of a day you had on account of work, a small pay check and a parking ticket, to which they respond without blinking how they just had an even worse day followed by a parking ticket and a moving violation. You sit there talking about this trip you just went on to the beach, they talk about a yacht the rented for the weekend but all you can think about is why he or she didn’t go off with Gilligan on that three-hour tour … that three-hour tour.

Whether it’s good or bad news, there’s is always more of something. More intense. More happy. More. Just more. And they burn me out. Being a writer. it’s is always a struggle between what I was programmed to believe to what is actually possible. And one-uppers do not help the creative recovery process, if anything they make the climb up that mountain even more painstakingly difficult by adding rocks … boulders to your bag.

I’m in mid-project, well more the early middle stages, and I’ve been chipping away at it bit, by bit, with what I could do. I got a temporary side hustle for a minute there in order to raise some extra money for my project. Doing what I can to get closer. Research. Writing. More research. Calling contacts. And as I’m inching away with my good idea … here, this week comes Goliath with my envisioned project completed and with their thousands of dollars to back it and get it out there.

I was gutted.

This went above and beyond the One-Upper. It was Checkmate and I didn’t even know I was playing someone else. I didn’t even see it coming or who did it.

It just happened and I sat there in disbelief.

Now what?

Do I just stop? I thought about it. Burned out, I thought about it. I reached out to a writer friend of mine and let her know about the discovery.

Excelsior was in effect. Excelsior! She Silver Linings Playbooked me. She took it from a different perspective and schooled me on the benefits of different points of view and my own voice. I was reminded of that, of my own creative power. The odds were rough, but sometimes you do have a winning hand and The House has to fold. Don’t stop because you saw what The House was holding, you haven’t even flipped your cards over yet. Don’t fold while they’re dealing it out.

And so here I am … playing the hand. Got the pep talk from her and another close friend and I went back to work. Research. Writing. More Research.

And in the midst of all this mini drama, I heard a song, from a commercial, that reminded me of a movie from earlier days, when I wore Levi Jeans and those old school Nike running shoes but I wasn’t running back then, the white ones with red swoosh. Cortez Nike’s. Yup. That was me. That song reminded me of that person. With everything going on but she kept going. The song was a trip too. It’s so cheesy but I love it. And the movie. Montage awesomeness leading to big moments. I figured the universe was giving me a sign … so I smiled and took it. And I’m still on the path, regardless of how many one-uppers I encounter.

Buen Camino!

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You’re The Best — Joe Esposito

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Confident Dance Battle — Leap Soundtrack

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My Way — Aloe Blacc

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Soy Yo — Bomba Estereo

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Another One Bites The Dust — Queen

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Monday’s Flashback

Cha Cha Cha Chia.

Remember that?

That commercial be haunting me almost as much as 1-877 Kars for Kids … K … A … R … S Kars for Kids. Yeah, you’re totally welcome for that one.

In any case Cha Cha Cha Chia be making a strong comeback. I remember that commercial and thinking what is that? A sheep? A bear? So what happens after you grow, is there a flower or just clover like plants? Is it an herb? Do I need to keep watering it? I mean what’s the excitement?

Well, it didn’t matter really as I never bought one back in the day, and no one gave me one either. It may have been the commercial, who knows. Maybe the sheep or the bear wasn’t that cool. Maybe I needed the X factor …

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I know.

I know.

This put Cha Cha Cha Chia in a whole new light. The kids busted out a present from one of our neighbors. It had been sitting there, camouflaged between the a LEGO and art supplies in the corner for about a month or two. They had completely forgotten about it and were so excited to have found it again. After a clay and painting project this weekend this box became a highlight.

They were like … it’s onnnnnnn! After school, distance learning that is, they were ready for theirs next project. They gave each other a high-five.

This was pandemic excitement in the making.

Normally I’d situate myself over there and say, hey make sure you read the directions, get all your supplies, but I stayed back and let them handle matters. They were way too jazzed up about the Baby Yoda possibilities. And you know me, with my destruction of plants, many basil plants have suffered in my presence as my superpower, the inability to grow anything, strengthens. But I remain on this gardening journey. I’m on a mission.

And so they soaked it and spread the chia paste where they wanted it to sprout … and now they wait.

I’m hoping it’s a positive experience and not a Nailed It leaning opportunity, although that would be fun too.

I’ll let you know how it pans out.

We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled program of Feel Good 5 Friday’s this week, but I just wanted to take a break as the week caught up with me, with the kids, and the research on my latest project. I couldn’t even make it to Friday Feel Goods on a Saturday or Sunday. But I’ll catch some tunes this week …

Buen Camino!

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