I love Target.

I could be a spokesperson for that company. And I should make a commission. I just got back and had to brag to my dh about my "fabuless" purchases of 50% off eyeshadow, flashlights, and bungee cords. What's the thrill here? Why the high? Seriously, I come home from shopping and feel so useful, like I've accomplished something. Probably because I have. I can have my need to accomplish something gratified by purchasing 32 bars of soap (bulk pack-zest energize scent-smells so clean). I feel purposeful and useful because I have solved a need for my home. Instant gratification. And I need this instant gratification of accomplishment because that sense of accomplishment is not so instant when I am maintaining the status quo on the home front. At home, I work in layers. My responsibilities stack on top of each other, and I must do layer 1 in order to even attempt layer 2 and so on. I am lucky to reach layer #1 (dishes and laundry) on any given day. Layers 2, 3, & 4 (mopping, dusting, showering, shampooing carpets, cleaning windows, lunch, the laundry list goes on, but I shall spare you) lay dormant, aching for acknowledgement and attention. No wonder women like to shop so much. It satisfies the inate desire of being useful, the "look what I did" urge, and satisfies it quickly. Hence, the rise of the shopping gene. I was born that way. I, therefore, find no shame in shopping, even at the risk of offending the men we love and serve. I have a proud heritage and image to maintain. I shall not wax lackadaisical. I will hold my head high, though my arms drag with bags. My sense of accomplishment rests in a bottle of Mountain Rain Purex. Ahh, smell the satisfaction.

so there i was

when all of a sudden, out of nowhere...
Again, another random comment that has nothing to do with the post. This, of course, is in keeping with the tradition I've begun of writing titles that really don't relate to the subject at all. This, then, requires that you read the entire post to catch the entire meaning. This, of course, is what you want to do, since all of my (two) random posts are of the utmost relevance to normalcy of living. But this, the normalcy thing, will no doubt provide hours of endless subjects to post upon since so many things are normal and all normal things, including myself, love words, good words, said about them. They, nor I won't mind a bit that I blog on and on. You, dear reader, I hope, will add to the lovely words being said about normal things.

Today's normal subject: Oh, you can't really expect me to be so plain and predictable as to actually type it out. Where is the mystery in that? Normalcy--yes, mystery--missing. The search for the meaning in my words could cause critics to go crazy in hopes of finding double meanings or hidden messages in my writing (which, if you look long and hard enough, will find), thinking they will answer the antiquated, overrated, underestimated, often promulgated secret of life. When, or if, they find it in these words, (which if they look long and hard enough, could find), it will merely accentuate the beauty and mystery in normalcy, the joy of normal living, where all good things, good words, good works, good manners, good books, good looks, good cooks, good, honest people really do exist, but often go unnoticed, being nestled in plain and predictable patterns of meaningful living.

Dare I divulge the location of such normal, interesting people? Or has the curiousity peaked and you have begun your own search to find such relics and sages as normal people. Such a search leads to great discovery hiding under the name of "normal." We know that each person is fighting a hard battle, and each of us has something "normal" that adds authenticity, variation, and interest to our plain and predictable lives. So, there we are, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, we, the normal, endless subject providing normal people, just might have discovered the secret of life. To our swords! No, Better yet, to our words!

the cat: day 751

The title on this blog really has nothing to do with my day. I just remember it from a humorous door mat that began that way and I immediately thought of Bernie, a fat grey grumpy cat who was respected by the neighborhood pet community and left alone.

I on the other hand, am a not a fat grey grumpy cat, and I prefer to be alone only on rare occasions. Most of the time, company delights me, good company, and I am satisfied with that.

I don't know why I started a blog. I guess I just wanted more company, good company, to make my 751 normal days more satisfying. I have always loved to write. I know I am not alone in that, too, and that is also satisfying. And I am hoping that others who like to write and like company, good company, will enjoy a blog of normal no point conversations that may bring a bit of satisfaction to other normal 751 days of other normal lives.

I find satisfaction in that.