Recently, I purchased a new truck. Well, not new, in fact it is really old (A 1981 Chevy long-bed C-10 with single bench seat and gear shift on the column). But, it is new to me and I am EXCITED. Or, at least I was excited until I told my husband about it.
Me: I am selling my 4Runner.
Husband: What are you going to drive?
Me: Mike’s old white work truck. (Mike is my neighbor)
Husband: NO YOU ARE NOT! It is not safe!
Me: Yes, I am. And, it’s too late I already bought it. I’ll have it checked out first. I’m going to restore it and drive it.
Husband: You sure like to shoot from the hip (very exasperated).
Me: Listen, I’m an artist. Think of this as just a different canvas. A different medium. An artistic expression. Can you learn to just embrace the different that is me?
My husband still thinks I am crazy. And, of course, he is right, at least to some degree. And, like I often remind him; “That’s exactly what makes doing life with me so darned fun!” You just never know what to expect next.
I am an idealist. A visionary. A creator. A dreamer. Change brings me joy not fear. I live to explore. I live to express. I live for the challenge. I live for the experience. I live for the adventure. I live for the opportunity in whatever form and for however long.
In twenty years I want to be sitting in my backyard surrounded by family and friends, sipping on my vodka sweet & sour lite (you do life your way), reminiscing about that one time when I sold a really nice car to buy a piece of shit truck because I thought I was going to restore it although I didn’t know the first damn thing about fixing up cars. And, then we’ll all laugh and laugh. Seriously, what else are we going to discuss in our golden years…. bowel movements? No thank you. I’m out on that.
When someone asks my husband, my kids, or my friends for that matter;
- Do you know what your mom just said?
- I can’t believe your wife did….
- Carol did what?!
Nothing would bring me greater pleasure then if they would just shrug their shoulders, give it a little eye roll and reply; “That’s Carol.” If you feel a need to explain me for the sake of appearances, please… just don’t. There is something I find completely offensive about that notion. I don’t want an explanation. I don’t feel like I or my life should need an explanation. I don’t want to live an ordinary life. I want to live MY life.