||[Feb. 26th, 2007|08:28 am]
|||||Fine Young Cannibals, Raw & the Cooked||]|
Call your mother. Or someone who is like a mother to you. Someone who probably doesn't get told often enough how important they are to you. I know, you don't have time....dude, don't be lame, you've got a wireless phone or cell phone. You can reach out the front door and ring the doorbell when it's time to hang up.
But really -- you can be deep and think...hey, I might die tomorrow or she might die and this might be my last chance. Although you should try not to be such a drama queen.
Just do it because even if it might be painful during the call, you'll probably make her day. And you'll feel better having done it. And it's all about the endorphins.
This spills from talking to a neighbor and reminiscing about some graffiti that someone spraypainted on our road right before Halloween. No gang tagging for us. No "Kyle & Amber 4ever". Instead, we get literary-minded vandals.
Painted on our road in neon orange was "Read Tolstoy".
Which started a semi-serious campaign to include that in our Halloween theme that year -- that we would cover the entire street in exhortations to become a better person. I have the list -- and when I don't have the time or energy to be entertaining, I figure I can nag. After all, telling people what to do...is what I do.