Life with a side dish of lemons: the remedy

 

So, on Sunday, ten days into my Mac experience, I got the message in fourteen languages to shut down. In IBM speak, it’s like the dreaded blue screen. Had all gone as expected, I would have rebooted and the Mac would have cleared up the issue and zoomed into life, but all did not go as expected. Turns out there’s something haywire with the RAM. I took it for repairs yesterday and on the way home stopped in at the drugstore, came out and the car wouldn’t start. Now it’s in the shop, too. Lemons. Life is handing me lemons. The nerve! I love my Mac; we had bonded, and I love my car; it’s paid for. All that love . . . squeezed now into lemons. Squeezing my dollars! Sitting on the curb, waiting for the mechanic, I wished for a diversion. Something to take my mind off its tendency to worry. I tried calling both sons, but they were each one traveling in separate parts of the country and without cell service. I sat some more and wished for my Kindle.

Reading, it’s the best diversion

No matter what is happening in my life, from a one-lemon tiny trouble to a five-lemon, full-blown disaster, I have always sought refuge in reading. I can read anytime, anyplace, almost anything--the side of a cereal box, a clothing label, a recipe--and, even if it’s only for a moment, I’m transported. My brain and heart rest in the words, the story. Reading is restorative. Words have the power to create imagery, a pseudo-reality that is different from the one you’re standing in and that interlude, however brief, takes you out of yourself, providing a respite. Joan Reeves blogged recently about this, not reading so much, but about Happiness Amidst Life’s Lemons. In fact, I read her post yesterday, after the mechanic jumped my car, followed me to the garage, and then brought me home. (I wish it were just the battery.) But before that, sitting on the curb waiting for rescue, I wished for my Kindle. If I could have read something, it would have stopped my mind from chewing over the lemon rind so to speak, until I had scared myself with every possible scenario up to and including, or nearly, becoming homeless as the result of being served so many lemons. Where will it end? I asked myself. Why me? I said. What next? Can it get worse? (That’s a bad one to ask!)

If only I'd had my Kindle. . . .

I could have been reading, Jane I’m Still Single Jones, by Joan Reeves, say, a recent download (A romantic dream of a high school class reunion story that zipped along like a fun evening spent with a group of wry and entertaining characters, and cleverly spiced with little nuggets of wisdom that gave me pause. I love Joan’s voice!) Had I been reading that, I might have been smiling.   I know I would have been engaged. Or I could have been reading Innocent Deceptions, a historical novel by Gwyneth Atlee aka ColleenThompson, another recent Kindle download. Reading that would have transported me back to the Civil War era and a story of love and betrayal. (Watch for more of her historical and romantic suspense releases in the near future. Her latest release, Phantom of the French Quarter, is an eerie and atmospheric tale of love and murder). Or I could have taken another look, at Crazy For Trying, by Joni Rodgers. I read that on my Kindle not long ago, loved it and reviewed it here. (Look for her latest release: The Hurricane Lover, a stunner of a literary thriller coming to Kindle this month.)



Instead. . . .

I chewed my virtual nails, pondered all sorts of even graver consequences, indulged in brief acts of self pity, and tried calling my kids so I could serve them a few of my lemons, all of which only increased the sour taste. When I could have been reading. I’m not sure what the lesson is, but I think it goes something like this . . .  don’t leave home without your Kindle (or e-reader of choice) and don’t share your lemons. As Joan suggests, make lemonade. Maybe she’ll even share the recipe she mentions in her post. Oh, and I wouldn’t mind at all if, as a diversion, you were to read my books on your Kindle, too. The Volunteer and The Ninth Step aren’t exactly a laugh a minute, but the stories, the suspense just might hook you in. At the least, you’ll be transported to another world where the lemons aren’t your own.

If this post looks wonky, blame it on the old PC.....