Author: Belinda O

I’m a stress eater–I’ll admit it. I also can snack endlessly on favorite foods if there’s an endless supply of them. It’s remarkable I haven’t put on a ton of weight, but somehow, I’ve been able to maintain my slightly less than ideal size.

I’d like to lose a few pounds, but gave up on trying during the holiday season, Unfortunately, that season lasted at work until today when the last of the fudge was consumed, Not by me, but I did my share. Co-workers brought in not only fudge, but peanut brittle, chocolate covered cherries and the like. That’s in addition to all the goodies our favorite vendors sent. Any stress I felt found an outlet.

I even feel stress during my bi-weekly Scrabble games. Will she use the one letter I need? I reach for the cookies one of us supplied while waiting to find out.

Last week, tired of all the sugary snacks I’d had in the last few weeks, I found myself impulse buying a bag of tortilla chips. They tasted so good! Now, I didn’t down the whole bag in one sitting, but I made a pretty good effort at that accomplishment. Was I stressed? Well, I was when I finished.

So today, instead of fudge, instead of tortilla chips, I’ve decided to go a whole different route and eat an apple. Except there’s a winter storm going on, and I can’t safely make it to the store (which may not even be open). That stresses me out, but there’s no snack food in my apartment, so I’m safe.

Note: Today’s Bloganuary prompt is “come up with a crazy business idea.” Well, you’ll see how far I got with this prompt.

When I was young–up until about the age of twelve–we as a family drove to all our vacation spots. We lived in northern California, and those trips frequently were to the southern areas of our state, where all the amusement parks, such as Disneyland, were. We crowded into the family Corolla, the three of us kids squeezed in the back with me in the middle because I was the shortest.

To keep us amused, we had a good supply of Mad Libs books, as well as crossword puzzles and small, hand held games. Along the way there were bountiful snacks, provided as much to keep us quiet as to feed our hungry selves. You can imagine what chaos it was and what a mess we made.

My parents bemoaned these messes, although I had a simple solution. Give us one big bag for garbage and three medium-sized bags, even pillowcases, for all our “car stuff.” My mom poo-pooed the suggestion, but to this day I think it would have gone a long way to keeping things neater in that back seat.

Which makes me wonder how many others have had good ideas, even great ideas, but are told these thoughts are no good, leaving them discouraged. Or, maybe the ideas are good, but they’re not the ones to execute them. Not everyone has an entrepreneurial spirit or is good with follow through. I’m obviously not talking about pillowcases here, but bigger ideas, business concepts.

There are also those who get discouraged too easily. Thirty years ago, my then-boyfriend thought I should start a business where services for the elderly are rated and we are able to advise people which senior living center, for example, they should check out. I asked two questions: how would we go about getting these ratings? and how would we get paid? and he called me a killjoy.

Since I was never able to answer those questions and didn’t have the support to start such a business, it never happened. Now, of course, there’s the Internet as well as a few organizations that will do just what he suggested. It was a good idea. We just weren’t the pair to implement it.

There legitimately are people better suited at being entrepreneurs, but there are also a lot of people with good ideas who need to be teamed with the right people. How do you match them up? I have no idea. I suppose there’s a crazy business idea that could provide a solution, but I don’t even have that.

Image Credits: Family Car © kv_san–stock.adobe.com; The Best Idea © goir–stock.adobe.com; Puzzle pieces © Gheorghe–stock.adobe.com

On the Christmas right before my eighth birthday, my parents surprised with something I hadn’t asked for, a rag doll named Jennifer. She turned out to be one of the most important gifts of my childhood, and she stayed with me for years.

Most of our communication–for I believed Jennifer talked to me in her own silent language–was at night, after I went to bed. There, under the covers, I would tell her all my secrets. Unfortunately, I had a few my parents should have been made aware of, although of course I didn’t know that at the time. But Jennifer understood, and I always got a hug from her.

She was about sixteen inches tall, with orangey-red yarn for hair, felt cheeks and eyes, and a purple dress with bold flowers on it. Her smile was drawn on with a felt marker. Whenever my mom washed her, she needed the smile retraced and new cheeks and eyes placed on her creamy white face. Her body was shaped like an upside-down triangle. She was special.

I didn’t just tell her my secrets under the covers. Together, with the help of a flashlight I would sneak from the utility drawer, we read all the the Little House books (multiple times), The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew, Alice in Wonderland and Little Women. When I was nine, we began reading a series of books from the Scholastic Book Club, none of which I can remember now.

Eventually, Jennifer began to fall apart. The stuffing started coming out of her feet, which were difficult to patch properly. The dog peed on her, and my mom never could get that stain out. The little bobbles on the bottom of her dress fell off.

One day, I came home and Jennifer was gone. My mom had thrown her out. While I won’t say I still hold a grudge, I can’t yet fathom why a mother would do that to her child. Mom knew what she meant to me. There had to be a better way.

Today, I treasure the memory of that little doll. Every child should have something they can cling to.

Note: The doll pictured above, of course, is not Jennifer. I couldn’t find a picture that looked like her, but that little doll resembles her spirit.

Image Credits: Rag Doll © Kira Nova–stock.adobe.com; Rag Doll Cats © Photocreo Bednarek–stock.adobe.com

Just for fun, here are some shots of a Rag Doll Cat:

Well, today’s bloganuary prompt took a heavy turn. It’s “What is your mission?” and I have to say, that’s not something I’ve pondered too much before. Sure, I have my goals, but I think of a mission as an overriding ideal, greater than your goals.

But this Bible verse kept coming back to me, so I’m simply going to say, my mission is tied in with Micah 6:8: “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

Image Credit: Sunrise © alinamd–stock.adobe.com; Daffodils © altocumulus–stock.adobe.com

When I was young, one of my favorite songs was the Beatles’ bouncy hit “When I’m Sixty- Four.” That age sounded ancient to me, but like most people who’ve arrived there (I’ll be 64 in two weeks), it’s not so old.

In fact, it’s almost scary how young it is–will my limited resources last until I die? How long will I live? I’ve inherited a fair amount of longevity–both my parents are 87, and in good health. In fact, my dad is very healthy. His dad lived to be almost 100, and I fully expect he’ll survive into his 90s.

In addition to the financial side of things, there’s the possibility of dementia or other diseases that will affect my quality of life. I don’t really want to be a burden to others. But when I think of that, my mom is requiring a lot of effort on my part, and while she has memory loss, she doesn’t have what I think of us dementia. She’s a burden I can bear. I don’t want to lose her.

Same with my dad. He’s not requiring anything from me right now, but he could in the future. The thing there is, these are my parents. I don’t have any children. Who would I be a burden on?

Today’s bloganuary prompt asks what are my thoughts on the concept of living a very long life. I really don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to be a burden. But at what point do you determine someone is a burden? Frankly, we don’t have a whole lot of control over those things. Is it a bad thing to age and have health problems?

Well, I’m only 64. I could die tomorrow, or I could live another 30 years. Either way, I’m going to have to leave this in God’s hands, because I don’t have the answers.

Image Credits: Header (Older Lady)  ©  俊后生–stock.adobe.com; Calendar Flipping  © Pixel-Shot–stock.adobe.com