Yellow mustard or Dijon? I think you know the answer to that question
Success is a stalker. He eases up behind you without any notice if you’re not paying attention. And you won’t be paying attention because, to gain success, you’ll be hard at work.
Sometimes, we are so hard at work we don’t notice the signs of success starting to surround us. I am here to bring awareness to those signs as they show up, as subtle as they may be.
The first sign of success will be that you have money in your account instead of zero or negative. You may even have CASH in your wallet. This is often the most blatant sign and is usually pretty clear. But I am not immune to the fact that some of my readers are not very smart. I’m doing what I can to spell out even this very big, blatant sign of success for you.
Shortly after starting to succeed, you will notice a change in your sugar. Suddenly, loose sugar just doesn’t cut it anymore. You will only take your sugar in cubes. This does make baking hard, I won’t lie. You might even find yourself shopping for a crystal bowl to store your cubes
You will no longer taste things the same once you experience success. Yellow mustard won’t cut it anymore. You will have to have a Dijon blend. You sure as hell won’t eat catfish anymore. It will only be a bland white fish. Your water will have to be sparkling. You will find a ding-dong, either kind, at the gas station, disgusting.
You will actually get offended when people offer you the condiments of the peasants. Try to keep that reigned in. Nobody likes an asshole, successful or not.
I’m sure by now you’ve already guessed that when you become successful you will start pronouncing things differently. The first thing is you will call a vase a vaz. You will sound classy as f**k.
A potato will be pronounced a potah-toe.
Target will be Tarjay.
Don’t fight it. You’ll only end up looking foolish.
You will always look like you are going sailing. It doesn’t matter where you live or what you are actually going to do. It will always look like you are going sailing.
I hope these tips help you as much as they have not helped me. Since, I’m not successful. Obviously.
Sometimes, we just don’t have any good answers for our children, especially when death is concerned. Sometimes, we just cannot make the pain go away. I had to fight myself against issuing generic platitudes to my grieving son because no answers were sufficient for the questions that he had when he lost his best friend suddenly.
Don’t be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.
I have four kids and two stepchildren that are the center of my universe. My youngest son, and third child, has suffered a tremendous loss at only the tender age of 13. His best friend and sidekick died. For the sake of his family’s privacy, I will call this young man Daryl in this article. Daryl will be remembered by more than his family. My son is going to make sure of that.
Daryl was a bright thirteen year old boy that liked to play video games online and basketball outside of my house with the local neighborhood boys. My son, Nolan bonded with him quickly over their mutual love for Kobe Bryant, dark humor, video games, and attitudes.
Daryl had fought and overcome cancer three times in his short little life. He had most recently gotten the stats to indicate he was beating it again.
You never heard him complain, but he had a life filled with pain. He would be missing in action during the worst parts, but continually stayed in contact with my son via online messaging. My son was not one to talk about it. Like many boys are apt to be when it comes to emotions, he dealt with it in his own way and still does.
When COVID came around, Daryl was confined to his room. His immune system was already battered so his parents weren’t taking any chances by not issuing a strict quarantine. They spent the summer playing video games online and plaguing each other with dark jokes and pranks. They were showing their love as boys will.
Three days before school was to be let back in session, Daryl’s mom went to wake him and found that he had passed away in his bed. Though he was beating the cancer, he had passed away from a sudden aneurism.
Nolan found out later on that day and came to tell me right away. They had played on the X-box the night before and he seemed fine, my son told me in shock.
As grief tends to do, it had a delayed reaction on Nolan. He would forget for a moment and then he would go to text him and remember. He would get online and remember.
I believe the grief took a toll on his immune system because within days he was fighting a huge swollen gland from a sudden bout of mono and strep throat. Days after getting on antibiotics, he developed a mono rash. He ended up missing the first two weeks back to school.
I didn’t realize how deep the friendship had gone until I took him to school on his first day. Signing him in, the office staff all gathered around and hugged him and told him how sorry they were. It seemed that the boys were something of a duo at the school.
A few weeks later, I came home from work and went to greet all of the kids, which is my routine when I come in the door. After I greet the animals, of course.
I found Nolan in his room thumbing through a journal. He told me that for art class they all had to keep an art journal with drawings, thoughts, and the such. He said that after class the art teacher had given Daryl’s art journal to him.
Without me even telling him, he told me that he wanted to make a copy for himself and carry the original to Daryl’s mother. The image of the young boy’s self painted image in the journal made tears well up in my own eyes. Not to mention the fact that my teenager, famous for no empathy towards anyone but himself within our household, was showing empathy towards Daryl’s family.
I took the journal to work and made the copy. It was filled with what you would expect from a thirteen year old boy being forced to journal, but I knew the gift would be a priceless artifact given to a grieving mother. Another link to a love like no other.
This will not be the last time my son experiences a tragedy. I am proud of the way he has handled this loss and the way he continues to keep Daryl’s memory alive by talking about him. All too often, people try and drown pain away by ignoring it. Only by dealing with our emotions will we ever truly heal from any heartbreak or pain.
There is no explanation for a life cut that short. I won’t lie and say it’s part of a plan I’m not privy to. The only thing I can say for sure is that where he went has to be so much better than what he went through here during his short, pain filled existence.
Hold your loved ones tight. We never know when a moment will be the last.
I know this was a depressing article so if you would like to laugh now, here is a link to my latest Medium article about being a Golddigger!
The older I get, the more confused I get. What the f@@k is happening? Is the world going to shit? Or am I old enough now to start to notice what has always been visible to everyone else?
I get confused by the hatred that is generated by adults. I get confused by violence and hate and racism and misogyny. I get confused and angry about animal abuse and elder abuse and child abuse. But, I think these are things we all get confused and angry about. We all should anyways.
This article is about some other things I have been confused about recently. These things probably aren’t what most of you normal people even think about. I just assumed normal people thought about cream of wheat and Jeopardy. And the weather, obviously.
But, if I have pondered about these odd things, I know at least one other person has as well. I can’t be the only one noticing these things. If I’m not though, why is nobody talking about this?
Foot fetishes: What in the ever loving f&@k?
What happened during these peoples formative years to make them turn out like this? At what point did they decide a foot was a sexualized object? Beyond that, do they fantasize about marrying a foot? Do they want to date the foot? Or is it just another thing to assault with a penis?
And what part of the foot is it that is sexy? The hammertoes with the toe jam. Or the crusty ass heels. I am just saying that I have seen some nasty feet and I have no desire to ever get sexual with a foot.
Do they want a clean foot? Or do they want one that smells like feet? How does one make love to a foot? No, I don’t want to look and watch a video. I want someone to tell me. I’ll be less traumatized that way.
Where did roly polys go?
When I was a kid they were everywhere, chilling with their pals the earthworms. Why is nobody talking about this? They are both GONE.
Please bring back the roly poly.
My roly poly was the only pet I had for the first 11 years of my life. Besides the pet rock, but I don’t count that anymore.
I think he probably died every day and my mom just got me a new one from out in the yard. Because he was always on the counter only at 4 o’clock until my bedtime.
Did I really not have any pet? Was that the most genius get my kid a pet move in the history of parenting? I don’t wanna know if that was a different Roly Poly every day. Because I loved one roly-poly whose name was Ronald.
And yes, I named him after the greatest leader this country has ever seen. The clown that runs McDonald’s.
Reagan was the greatest President
I really named my Ronald after the greatest president of all time, Ronald Reagan. I don’t normally like to talk about politics, but I am completely flabbergasted that we have elected this person to run our country.
I think we all can agree that it worked out once having a movie star as a president but, after this latest debacle, I think we should make a rule that anybody in the entertainment industry cannot be president.
What happened to long distance and collect calling?
I miss calling people collect. It would be cool if we were notified when we did something that it would be the last time we would ever do it. I didn’t know the last time I played outside it would be the last time.
I didn’t know the last time my son got in bed to watch a movie with me it would be the last time. I didn’t know when I talked to my father it would be the last time.
I’m gonna need somebody to start giving us some warning.
I definitely would have ran some charges up if I had known the last time I was making a collect call. I would’ve made it count.
Why is it good to keep your enemies closer than your friends?
Wouldn’t you get them confused? I don’t want my friends and my enemies all willy-nilly together. They would just all blend together eventually.
I like to keep my enemies strictly over there with the assholes. By over there I mean in a corner or a ditch. Just kidding. I’m a super nice person.
Why would you want in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up faster?
My mom used to say this all the time and I still don’t understand what in the hell it means.
Why would you shit in one hand and see if it filled up faster if you wanted in the other hand? That doesn’t even make any sense.
However, my mama is not the type of mama you can argue with or even ask what something means. All of that is considered backtalk and is punishable by an ass whooping.
So if I asked for something and she didn’t wanna give it to me she would just tell me that saying that made no sense at all.
I vowed I would never do that to my kids. That was the first of many lies I would tell myself.
The poverty mindset is living with a flight or fight mentality
I will admit I have a problem. Actually, more than one honestly. There were a good 30 days straight recently where I ordered something from Amazon every day. I knew I couldn’t afford to do this when I did it, but I did it anyway. I was choosing to live moment to moment. I had what I call the poverty mindset.
The poverty mindset, to me, means you live with a fight or flight mentality. You live each day as it comes with no preparations for the future. If you only have $30, you will spend it all on lottery and crab legs instead of being frugal. It is, in my mind, a survival mechanism. It is one I see all too often. When you are fighting for survival, immediate gratification is the only thing that matters.
I implemented a rule of thumb in my spending that has made a huge difference for me. First, figure out the amount you get paid hourly. Then, before you buy anything, figure out how many hours you will have to work to pay for it. This method has been extremely beneficial for me.
I like to experiment with budgets, but I’m pretty dead set on the envelope budget now. I think. It seems to have helped me the most save money on a near constant basis. This is because I see the envelopes as they dwindle away and I tend to cling tighter to the balances.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Eating out everyday is the fastest way to go into debt. Those small amounts, done frequently, are the things that devastate your finances.
Set up separate spending accounts and allot yourself a set amount to spend. Do not go over it. This has also helped me. I can’t give myself an allowance in and stick to it when it is all in the same account. It also helps to hide money from my husband. I mean, my kids.
This one hurts. Allow yourself to buy absolutely nothing on credit. If you can’t pay cash, you can’t afford it. So, basically, I can’t buy anything unless I pay cash. Instead, every time I get a commission or unexpected sum of money, I gift myself with a little impulse buy.
I want to be responsible financially and also enjoy nice things. It is possible with rules in place.
In conclusion, as with everything, I will spend in moderation now so I can enjoy my retirement with less stress later.