Sunday Secret

solitudeI can’t remember a day in my life that I have not had a momentary conflict between connection and solitude.  That I haven’t craved my own island to spend nine years reading, alone, on coupled with my near thin skinned longing for being a part of.

I just can’t quite seem to find the level-headed middle place between the two: old crone recluse and dinner soiree hostess.

If I had things my way I’d pick and choose each morsel of human that I interact with. I have my Champion All Time Faves—The Stalwart Reliables—who can lift me up and shine back the most wonderful Cupcake to me and then I have 99.99999999999 percent of the rest of all people who, if I were to be brazenly honest, either scare the shit out or me or fill me with rage.

You see, although I have specialized in getting to know Fear and Confusion for most of my years I’ve also been simultaneously earning a doctorate in Love and Acceptance. My formula of trying to figure it all out and never quite getting a clear answer has made me nicely weathered over all this time and although it takes quite a bit for me to entertain a conversation with a die hard Kenny G fan I have opened my heart enough to converse with plenty of Republicans.

Yours In Being Open For Business,
Nanette the Ninny

14 Comments on "Sunday Secret"

  1. claudia w says:

    “if I were to be brazenly honest, either scare the shit out or me or fill me with rage”…rings so true with me!

  2. Hilary says:

    I’m with you, Nanette.

  3. For some reason on Sundays, I feel the urge to tap dance down Broadway and alternately closet my myself in my solitary fake art studio. There’s never a clear cut winner.

  4. The Zadge says:

    It’s why God created country weekend homes. I’m still waiting for him/her to realize he/she forgot to put me on the list.

    • Cupcake Murphy says:

      The one on the cliff in that photo haunts me in my dreams.

    • Not sure if this will work, but I guess I always thought I should have a weekend home as well. I drew a picture of it when I was a kiddo. I’m not sure if that is a sofa hanging off the roof – my dad says he thinks I told him it was a loveseat when I mailed it to him in Oklahoma.
      Hope this link works:

      • MidLyfeMama says:

        The link works and it is awesome. I like that the swing is apparently in the bushes, that you need a loveseat hanging on the outside and you felt the need to clarify that you will be rich.

  5. The Farmer says:

    I love this.

    –from A Stalwart Reliable who has been somewhat less than reliable lately.

  6. I sort of always secretly hope I’m the person people are friends with because I sometimes scare the shit out of them.

  7. MidLyfeMama says:

    I have never treasured and craved the complete solitude that I rarely get to experience any more as much as I do now. It is like being able to sleep in on the weekends when we were kids. We took that for granted, and now as grown ups with schedules and places to be and people to avoid we can only think of those times wistfully and whisper into the ears of the children we know “Sleep when you can, be grateful for the quiet times and above all else never ever ever say you are bored or I will show you what you can fill your time with, small little indentured servent person who resides under my roof.”