Today was one of those days where as soon as I rolled out of bed I knew I had to be “movement”. It started with a lil acupuncture, the uncomfortable kind, and then one mini road trip to St. Petersburg. Now mind you, for years I’ve forced myself to think I’m a “live on a whim” kind-o-gal. Where planning is as as useful as underwear made of toothpicks. No.
So you can imagine how someone whom actually enjoys planning, especially with food, handled such a day. My slow as hell faux Droid GPS was constantly rerouting, I throw my arms up and park it. After which I realize I have zero coinage and must either risk being ticketed or pay by phone, which took another balls sweating hour.
Such is the moment! A reward is in order. This equals a walk through North Straub Park, one soy latte and waste of carbs Brioche. Congratulations to me! It was such a beautiful day I barely have room to complain, honestly. I packed it up and began the drive home but not before another stop.
If and when I ever read a sign that says “Pick Your Own Flowers” I raise a brow and feel a sudden blanket of calm come over me. Who wouldn’t want to pick their own flowers…with their own bucket…and shears? I paid no mind to the bottle of Jim Beam tucked away in the most obvious spot of the certified farmland golf cart, all I wanted was some Zen time with the flowers.
Isn’t this life? When sudden expectations send us into an inner tailspin; all the running in the world seems to lead us where the flowers grow…even if on the side of the road.