SNIPS AND SNAILS AND PUPPY DOG TAILS

I'm definitely not a sugar-and-spice gal, so I'll share with you some of my life on the snips-and-snails side.

Snips--Little things irritate me; nothing major, requiring a significant rant. Just little stuff, like: Why is it that drivers pull through a parking space into the one just ahead when the parking spaces are angled? Or, why is it that some people can’t talk on cell phones at anything near normal volumes? Do they think I want to hear about their latest fight with whoever? And the neighbors called the cops? (I get better stories on TV.) Or, what do you do with borrowers who fail to return borrowed property?

I don’t plan any kind of campaign to get these snips obliterated or outlawed or otherwise overthrown. It does help to have a minor rant from time to time. Thank you.

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Snails—I nearly hyperventilate over erratic drivers. I don’t mean the ones who zip around me (when I'm going the 55-57 I allow myself on the county highway) and pass on curves/hills/bridges. The erratic drivers who mess with my breathing are the ones who can’t urge their vehicles up to 45 in the 55-mph zone. We’re talking: good weather, clear roads, daylight, not much traffic. I often suspect (1) they don’t have cruise control or (2) they have cruise control and don’t know how to use it.

Then there are life events that seem to take ‘way, ‘way too much time to arrive. This was of greater concern when I was younger—finishing high school, then finishing college (that 4-year degree took 10 years, but by gum, I did it); getting young children off to school for the whole day. Now that I’m at the other end of those events, I look back and wonder how I ever got through them, and by the bye, where did the time go anyway?

 I may have learned a little patience from these snails in my life, but there are times . . . .

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Puppy Dog Tails—I have to confess—when I was a little kid and learned this nursery rhyme, I pictured little boys whose pockets bulged with puppy dog tails. I didn’t want to know what had happened to the puppy dogs. Maturity has blessedly allayed my fears, and I now picture a basket of puppies with all tails wagging, wagging, wagging. They are the embodiment of happiness! Spontaneity! Fun! Games! Joy!

What makes me happy enough to wag (if I had a tail to do so)?

Oh, my, the list goes on and on…. Here are a few: I think of a big pot of tea and a plate of homemade scones shared with a friend, and a dish of butter and another of strawberry preserves on the table. Knitting and sewing with women who share my interest in handmade gifts, and who also share their lives with me. Playing music written long ago, and feeling as if I have a friend in that century who approves. And driving through autumn leaves at the peak of their beauty. And . . . .

What about shifting the focus from snips and snails to wagging puppy dog tails? My life will be a lot more useful to others if I make the fun and spontaneity and joy part and parcel of what I do, don't you think?

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Writing about these things—however insignificant, however tedious, however personal—helps me put them in perspective. Make a list of your own. You might surprise yourself.