This is one of those mornings where I fell off the mark again. I blew it. I did not measure up to my commitments. I woke up an hour and a half later than I was supposed to wake up. I set the alarm for 5 a.m. and woke up at 7:30 a.m. No matter I didn’t go to bed until after midnight. No matter. I had a commitment. I blew it. So now a whole hour and a half—that’s 90 minutes, folks—has gone to shit. Dreaming. Dreaming of what? I can’t even remember. Why? Because I ate carbs last night before bed. Risotto. Homemade risotto. My wife made it. Rice and ground chicken and peppers and onions and cheese and sauce. Delicious. And then I had raisins and walnuts and frozen cherries. Frozen delicious very dark red cherries. Too many.
This is what happens when you don’t honor your commitments to wake up at a prescribed time. And to not gorge oneself on carbs before bed. You wake up in a desperate need for caffeine—massive amounts of caffeine. So much caffeine that you blow the cobwebs off the roof of your astral skull and get down to business.
Like I’m doing here. Just working the keys. I made another commitment. To write this damn blog every day. Why? Because it sounded good in the ad copy. What ad copy? Newspapers? No. Radio? No. Magazine? No. Facebook ads? Maybe. The only place people are seeing my commitment to a brand of daily wordsmithing is on my website. So what the fuck?
That’s all folks. Just don’t be so brutal with yourself that you can’t even enjoy 7.5 hours of sleep. Or a few frozen cherries. Or some homemade risotto made by your significant other. And when I say “significant” I mean SIGNIFICANT. One and only. My love. 32 fucking years with this beautiful soul.
How lucky am I? Who knows…Some kind of damn good karma running through my life. People all over the world swiping left and right and going on some damn app trying to find their soulmate.
And here I just walk into a music store to buy a capo for my guitar and BAM! Hit by the lightning in her beautiful Mexican brown eyes.
Love at first sight. Yes. It was definitely that.
I walked outside after buying the capo from my future wife, significant other and damn fine risotto-maker and asked my friend, “WHO WAS THAT?!!!”
He said that’s Myrna. She has a kid.
I was 25 and she was 34. And I didn’t care if she had a kid.
And you want to know what? The kid was 6 then. In 1989. And now he’s 39.
And not only that. The damn risotto I had last night? That was for him. It was a belated birthday celebratory dinner.
So what do you know?
Life comes full circle. From capo and brown eyes to risotto and deep dark red cherries.
And some fool mouthing off about not getting up on time…