Tears In My Coffee


The Damn Dog {yes, that’s now her new name} chewed through the computer cord. Ahhh! I went to sleep ready to write, but was too tired. So I woke up ready to write.  I have have have to be in the mood. I can’t have someone order, “Write something, Janelle.” That doesn’t work. It has to hit me. And damn it! I was ready, chomping at the bit ready to tear it up. As I set up, my laptop warns me URGENT YOU ONLY HAVE 7% BATTERY POWER LEFT! What? It’s plugged into the wall….Damn Dog. Shoot. Well, what a waste…all ready to write…but stalled because of Damn Dog.  So I took Damn Dog for a walk. {Gave her a dirty look the whole time.}

As she trots back inside I just sink into a chair with my coffee. Damn Dog. Yea, I know…I could use a tablet and physically write the thoughts in my head…but my writing fingers cannot keep up with my writing brain.  Sheesh. As I sip on my coffee I thumb through one of the 17 catalogs that have recently been delivered just in time for the holidays. It was called “Femail Creations”. Totally cheesy. Full of totally cheesy over priced works of inspirational art and wall plaques. Quotes from Mother Theresa, Helen Keller, Maya Angelou. Empowering words etched into key chains and pendants. Expressive tote bags and coffee mugs. It sucked me in.

It started of mockingly in my head….On the cover a tealight holder read “Once in a while right in the middle of an ordinary life…love brings you a fairytale.” GAG. Please. Who wants this crap?

But wait…on page three I spy a plaque that reads, “Be bold. Be thankful.  Be quiet.  Be original. Be spontaneous. Be punctual. Be a star. Be young. Be loving. Be crazy. Be loud. Be random. Be adorable. Be unique. Be daring. Be obnoxious. Be yourself.” Hey, that’s pretty cool. I like it. {But NOT the adorable part. I will never be adorable.} I’d put that on my wall. But not for 48 bucks! Sheesh.

I continue to thumb through, enjoying my coffee as I roll my eyes at some of the corny things in front of me. “I believe in angels, the kind that heaven sends..I’m surrounded by these angels, but I call them my friends.” B-A-R-F. Shoot me if I ever hang that on my wall. And if you buy it for me, I just may shoot you. Or what about this ol’ classic? “Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly.” I. Cannot. Belive. People. Pay. For. This.

Can you just see my eyes rolling?

I get up and refill my cup. I must finish looking through this catalog for some reason. I’m one of those people…get the thing in the mail, look through it thinking “How can this company still be in business? Who do they sell to and why the hell is this catalog in MY mailbox in the first place?”  Sheesh.

Whats this on page 8? “Thank God for the great friend…that may see it coming but still provides a soft place to fall.” Aww…alright. That’s a good one. {Especially because there is a leaf settled at the bottom just under the words. Nice touch.} And then there is page 9. A picture frame reading “Friends are angels who lift us up to our feet when our own wings have trouble remembering to fly.” I’m a sucker for the word FLY.

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” I’d wear that pendant.

Suddenly I’ve turned into a girl. I will admit, my eyes are a little misty. I’m getting weak. But thankfully I run across
a duzy of a ceramic wall plaque that says “A sister will give you the shirt off her back…after all it’s probably yours.” Lame. Annnnnnd I’m back……shaking my head thinking of all the dorks that buy this stuff.

Page after page of cheeseball-over-priced nic-nacs. Loads of quotations using words like “wellness”, “strength”, “inspire”, and my favorite…”destiny”. If I had a yoga instructor I know exactly what I’d get her for her birthday.

Mock. Mock. Mock. I’m really good at that. I should actually find a way to do it professionally. I’d be a millionaire. But we all know that it’s just a cover. A cover that I can have some feelings…the feelings that started to peek out on page 9.

I actually make it pretty far…to page 23…before I see it. Before I feel it. As I read the words on this beautifully framed print tears spring up in my eyes.

“They were wrong—She was okay just the way she was.”

I look out the window to be sure nobody can see me. {I hate crying. I hate when people see me cry. Hate doesn’t even begin to cover it.} A few pages past this one a “statement piece” with a drawing of a dragonfly reads…

“Once she began to listen, everything became clear. And once she decided to fly, her wings didn’t stop moving.”

You know that cry? It hits like a ton of bricks. You have no control. Your nose runs and you don’t even notice it til the snot hits your top lip then you run to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper to sop it up. But it doesn’t stop there. It feels like your soul is being sucked out of you from the insides of your toes…up through your stomach and out your mouth-so strong your toes actually curl under from the strength of the gasp. Tears stream down your face. You know that cry right? Right?

Umm…me neither.

Ummm…now where was I? Oh yea…as I was saying…So I’m reading this ridiculous catalog and searching my soul. Giggling a bit at a few of the very tasteless magnets on parenting and family…and I find it. It was written for me.  I am positive it was. It made me laugh harder than I had in a long time. So hard tears ran down my leg…{totally stole that from a wooden wall plaque} Under the page heading Cheeky Yet Charming {like me} was a canvas poster that read,

“as much as

i try to be an easygoing,

stretch your wings and fly type….

i just can’t stop

trying to burst

people into flames

with my mind”

NOW THAT I’D BUY! Even at $225.


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