Changes

Life is all about change.

We can't be stagnant and expect to survive.

I get that. I think.

The brilliant, well-educated and well-spoken part of my psyche embraces change and butterfly-like emerges from the chrysalis of the past to spread my wings and fly free in the face of the unknown.

Then there is the petulant little kid in me scuffing my toe and secretly muttering naughty swear words because 'everything is different now!'

Change is a concept that is wonderful - for OTHER people.

They need to change. Not me.

Blissfully happy with the status quo, I am quite sure I am a trial to everyone who is compelled to wade through the chaos of my life either with me or trapped in the swamping waves I create in my wake.

I don't mind CREATING change.

What I mind is OTHER PEOPLE creating change that I 'must accept'. That is a line which is generally followed by that crap filled expression of "for your own good".

Nothing exciting ever happened "for my own good". Generally, like that last spoonful of brussel sprouts, which by the way have NOTHING to do with Brussels, Belgium or anything remotely exotic, the codicil of 'for your own good' means I won't like it.

Straight up - no chaser.

When my own good is involved, I begin looking for the exit signs. There must be some SOMEWHERE! If no exit is available, I am reduced to hiding beneath furniture or under tables hoping the tablecloths have been carefully pulled just low enough to conceal my presence from the very horrible specter of 'change' which I cannot bear to endure.

Some change creeps up gradually, like underwear on a sticky southern day. (Trust me, you haven't lived until you have experienced this!). Other change is like being blind-side tackled in a scrimmage game and you are a cheerleader not a linebacker.

Either way, there are unpleasant side effect that must be dealt with. Using the dispatch of the unemotional, one is supposed to accept change with quiet dignity and grace.

As has been well documented by the Philistines of the world who ratted me out, I missed all of my charm school classes in favor of a pickup game of sandlot baseball. The good news is that what I lack in charm, I more than make up for in trash talking.

Hey battah, battah, battah - saaa -wing!

I want to be dignified and unruffled by the curve balls of life. But since my language is peppered with sports metaphors instead of terms found in the latest issue of Cosmo, any idiot can see that dignity ends with the first pitch when the Banner is over and the ump cries out "PLAY BALL!"

Recently, the blogger management decided I needed change because "it's a good thing". Who in the hell put Martha Stewart in charge of my blog? ? ?

If I want to change because 'it's a good thing', I'd sooner take advice from Yogi Berra than Martha Stewart. I'll bet money that broad can't pitch worth beans!

The changes they implemented were alleged to make life easier and give more options. Now, I find that I cannot access the menus on a site which I have become accustomed to checking for information on walk and run events in North Alabama.

Anyone who knows me at all in any measure will be able to discern that in that last sentence alone I have embraced change rivaling Noah and the flood.

Yours truly, dedicated couch potato and fan of all things chocolate, is now thinking ahead on what kind of events can keep me motivated to keep exercising.

Of course, to aid and abet my insanity, Beth just informed me I might like to try at 13 miler in April. I simply asked how many days I got to finish it and if I needed to bring lunch.

So far I haven't heard back from her. Probably because she has collapsed on the floor in oxygen deprivation from laughing at the mere thought that I would even consider that distance.

DAMN! I said I was CONSIDERING IT!

Change.

Don't let them fool you.

It isn't always good. And sometimes, it causes you to ponder actions with your mouth that your body can't write the check to cover.

Does this mean I am morally bankrupt for considering this course of change?

I sure hope so. It might get me out of this. People who are not able to cover their debts are generally hauled off to jail.

Wonder what color jumpsuits they wear in the pokey for people who hate change?

I'm really hoping it isn't pink.

I hate pink. And that will never change.