Colleen Wait's Blog: Hello readers!, page 12

Finally fall

I live in Florida.  That means if you blink you will miss fall.  It is October 21th and fall is finally here.  The temperature is below 80, for a few hours, the wind is blowing softly, and I don't sweat 3 gallons when I go for a run.  October is my favorite month here in Florida.  Everyone is so excited that it has cooled down and pumpkins are everywhere!!  

Unfortunately, I'm the only one in my family who likes pumpkin.  Well, maybe that's not so bad because I get to eat all the pumpkin recipes I whip up.  Here's one of my favorites:

Super duper moist pumpkin bread:

1/2 cup melted coconut oil
1/2 natural applesauce
1 3/4 to 1 cup Agave syrup
2/3 cup coconut milk
2 cups (one 15-oz can) pumpkin puree
3 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp ground nutmeg
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves (optional)
2/3  cups unsweetened flaked coconut
1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 350.  Spray two loaf pans with cooking spray. Mix wet ingredients followed by dry.  Bake 1 hour 15 minutes (if tops begin to brown before time, cover with foil).  Remove from oven. Leave foil on tightly for 10 minutes.  Transfer to plate to cool.  Enjoy.  

Want it a little sweeter?  Add 1 cup chocolate chips. 


Pumpkin bread

Update

Hello readers.  I haven't forgotten about the conclusion to "Happy Daisy for President".

I have been busy with book revisions.  Thus far, "Black Purple Sky"  has been revised on Smashwords, Kindle Amazon, and Create Space paperback.  "Captured"  is also now revised and re-published on Smashwords.  More to come.....

 

In My Head , Happy Daisy part 3

(This is a continuation of a short story, a dream really.  It's far fetched, not meant to have any basis in reality. After all, it was a dream).

The ballot was opened, revealing all of the names of the candidates for President, Senate, and all of the other seats open for re-election.  The author of the Happy Daisy blog was relieved to not see any familiar names.  In the write-in space, a name was written in.  The ballot was turned in, then the author went home, read a book, then went to bed.  A loud whirring noise and a ringing doorbell interrupted a nice dream.

"Are you Daisy Bell?" asked the police officer.

"Yes."  Daisy looked around.  There was a mob of police, reporters and spectators outside in front of her home and up and down the street.  "What is going on?"

"May we come in?  We'll explain inside."  The officer pointed to three men dressed in black suits.

"I guess."  Daisy led the men into her living room and offered them a seat.

"First," stated the officer, "I need some identification.  A driver's license, Social Security Card, and your birth certificate if you happen to have it."

"Okay.  But can you tell me what is going on? Why are all those people outside?"

"Did you vote yesterday, ma'am?" asked one of the suits.

"Yes."

"Did you watch the results?"

"No."

"Are you aware of the write in campaign."

"Vaguely."  Daisy's heart dropped into her stomach.  She was in trouble for her blog. She handed the documents to the officer.

"She's qualified,"  he stated.

"Qualified for what?"

"Ma'am," began the suit, "ninety percent of Americans voted in this election.  That's never happened.  Of those 90%, 85% of them voted for a write in.  They all voted for the same write in. That write in won in every state.  That write in was you?"

"Excuse me?"  Daisy dropped into a chair.  "I voted.  I wrote in a name, but not my own.  Wait, you're saying that my, name,  Daisy Bell, was the write-in?"

"No ma'am, not exactly.  Happy Daisy was the write in.  The electorate agreed.  Happy Daisy was traced to your blog and ultimately to you.  You won the election."

"That's not possible!" exclaimed Daisy.  "Is that even legal?"

"Write-ins are legal ma'am.  Since you are Happy Daisy, then you have been nominated as President of the United States, if you accept."

"You are Happy Daisy, are you not ma'am?" asked the officer.

"Well, yes.  But are you sure they meant me? I mean there could be someone else."

"No ma'am. You are it."

"Oh wow.  That's just incredible.  You know, I wrote that blog, not as a joke, but to get people to pay attention to the candidates.  To make an informed decision.  I'm not sure I succeeded."

"Ma'am," began the officer.  "I read your blog.  I voted for you.  I was well informed."

"Seriously?"  Daisy could not believe her ears or her eyes.  She looked out the window and saw people with signs saying 'I voted for Daisy'.  The onlookers were chanting her name.  "So what now?"

"You need to make a statement to the press," stated the officer.  "You should get dressed first."

"No, they've waited long enough," answered Daisy.  "They voted for me, well, this is me." Daisy opened her front door.  The crowd erupted into cheers.  The press rushed towards her with cameras and microphones aimed in her direction.  She raised her hand to wave and the roars became silence.  "Hello everyone.  My name is Daisy Bell and I accept the position you have elected me to."

The press began firing questions at her.  "What will be your first move?"  "Who is your cabinet?"  "What makes you think you can be President?"  "Was election fraud involved?"

....What do you think Daisy will do next?  What do you think she should do?

In My Head, Happy Daisy part 2

Mr. Thompson walked into the diner with his laptop at lunchtime.  He needed to get a little work done away from the office.  As he sat in his booth, he noticed the TV.

"Good grief, not another smutty political add," he grumbled.
"I know," agreed the waiter.  "I work here.  I have to see those idiotic adds all day long.  I have no idea what any of these guys are for.  All they say is, 'that guy did that terrible thing', and that horrid lady will take away your kids education'.   I'm so sick of it all."
The waiter took Mr. Thompson's order, pointed to the TV, then marched away to the kitchen in a huff.  Upon opening his laptop, Mr. Thompson's e-mail beeped.
"Mail from the wife.  Now what?"  he said to himself.  "'Did you see the blog?  My friends can't stop talking about it.  Look at all the comments.'  What comments?" Mr. Thompson opened the blog.   "Holy cow, she's getting a ton of traffic!" he said to himself, but outloud.
"What kind of traffic?"  asked the waiter who had returned with the soda.
"This blog my wife sent me.  It's by Happy Daisy.  She's suggesting we not vote for anyone on the ballot but instead write in a commoner."
"I think that's a great idea," agreed the waiter.  "I wasn't planning on voting because I don't like any of these people.  The people in office now don't listen to what we want. They are so  out of touch."
"Listen to this -  Miffed in Michigan says, 'I'm sick and tired of my taxes being raised, gas prices going up, being laid off and my house is being foreclosed on.  Mr. President blames the former president for messing up the economy and says if we give him four more years he'll fix it.  Well, that's exactly what he said four years ago.  If he couldn't then I wouldn't be in this mess.  Then the other guy says he can create 4 million new jobs but won't give any details.  He has no experience in the real world.  He's been a politician all his life, spoon fed.  No idea what I am dealing with.'   Then this lady says,  'If only the people running for office would listen to us, really listen to the people then maybe, maybe our country would get out of the toilet.'"
"Oh I like this one," joined in the waiter,  "'Can anyone tell me why it's okay for our sitting President to ignore the constitution?  The guy should be in jail.'  Who is this Happy Daisy?  We should put them on the ballot.  What's that web site?  I want to send this to my friends."

Two days later, the author of Happy Daisy blog turns on the news.   
"In breaking news, there is a viral email circulating that a new political party has formed.  It is the Happy Daisy party.  We have learned that due to extreme dissatisfaction with the incumbent and the opposing candidate that a write in will be on the ballot.  No word as to who the write in is or who is underwriting the ticket.  In other but related news, the incumbent rally in Iowa was canceled due to lack of interest.  In Missouri, the opposing candidate arrived at his rally and only a handful of people were there to greet him. Who is Happy Daisy?"

Dear Blog Readers;
I'm at a loss of words.  I'm happy to have sparked conversation and encouraged everyone to really look into who these candidates are.   Dig deep.  Don't vote for someone unless you know all the details of who they are. Chosing a write-in is a good idea.  Chose wisely.  Chose someone with real life experience.  Someone with values.  Someone who will listen to the people.  After all, the President of this country works for you!  We deserve better.  This country is not a dictatorship nor a monarchy.  Read your constitution.  Study it.  Power to the people!
To those who have asked, I'm a middle class worker, a Bible-believing Christian.  I've never known wealth, never held any office, not even student body council in school.  I'm just an average person like you. I believe in adhering to the Constitution of these United States as set forth by our forefathers.

The US Constitution - read it, readers.

Sincerely, 

Happy Daisy


... to be continued

In My Head 2 .4

It has been quite a while since I have written an "In My Head" post.  If you are unfamiliar, let me briefly fill you in.  These are far-fetched dreams that I have had.  They are really weird, so I remember them and write them down.  This one is titled,  "Happy Daisy for President".
Enjoy:
Dear Reader, I'm so sick of all these political ads.  I just want to throw my shoe at the TV every single time one comes on.  Thank goodness for my DVR.  I can pause then fast forward until my show comes back on.  Then, there is all the junk that I get in the mail every day and the endless phone calls.  Can we just take a deep breath together and scream?! 
Every single politician is a fraud.  Every. Single. One.  Now, I'm no expert.  I didn't major in political science or anything like that.  I'm just a simple working stiff trying to earn a living to pay the bills.  What bugs me is that these yahoos who are trying to get elected have no real clear vision of what they can do for us.  All they tell us is how bad the other guy is.  If I were to believe everything I see and hear.... you know, it's no wonder the rest of the world hates us.  When was the last time someone stood up and said, I am Joe Smith and this is what I believe in and this is what I think will help turn our economy around and create jobs and this is how we will achieve world peace.  And then... when Joe Smith is elected that is exactly what happens.   
But no... As soon as Joe Smith gets elected, Mr. Sourpuss loser digs up all kinds of dirt on our new leader and then the next four years is spent battling the court system.  Meanwhile, Mr. Joe Smith does a 180 and says, well, I did say and promise all those things but it isn't realistically possible.
So, my dear reader, lets protest.  Shall we buck the system and not elect anyone who is on the ballot?  I say we vote for a write-in.  Someone with absolutely no political background whatsoever.  Lets vote for a real commoner, a blue-collar worker.  Someone who understands my problems and yours.  Lastly, lets vote for someone who will abide by the Constitution and the ideals of our forefathers.
Sincerely, Happy Daisy

The next day....
"Hey you guys," said Bill.  "Did you see this blog?"  Bill took a sip of his coffee then reads the post to his co-workers.
"That's hysterical," says John.  "I agree with most of that but..."
"But what? You don't think the common man could be President?" asked Bill.
"Theoretically," stated Steven, "all of us are qualified, according to the rules."
"What are you guys arguing about?" asked Mr. Thompson.  He walked into the break room and put his hands on his hips.
"Not arguing, Sir," stated Bill.  "We were discussing this blog post by Happy Daisy."
"Oh, yeah.  My wife saw that this morning and read it to me.  I thinks it's brilliant.  Happy Daisy for President!"

.... to be continued.

Oatmeal Banana Bread

When I was a little girl, my mother always held onto the "rotten" bananas and made banana bread.  As an adult, I do the same thing.  I buy a bunch of bananas and the leftovers either go into banana pancakes or banana bread.  Every time I make it, I tweak the recipe just a little.  This time, I think I finally have a winner!  I'll let you be the judge.  I'm calling this "banana bread", however, there's a lot more in it than just the bananas.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup applesauce
3/4 cup Agave
2 eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1-1/2 cups mashed bananas (3 to 4)
1/4 cup coconut milk
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup quick cooking oats
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 to 1 tsp ground cinnamon and nutmeg
1/2 cup each:  raisins, shredded unsweetened coconut, chopped almonds

Process:
Preheat oven to 350 F.
Lightly beat the eggs, add the remaining wet ingredients, stir well.  Add dry ingredients.  
Spray 9 x 5 loaf pan with nonstick cooking spray (or two 8 x 3.5 aluminum pans).
Pour mix into pan(s).

Bake 50 to 60 minutes, cover out of oven with foil for 5 minutes.  (for smaller pans 35 minutes plus cover for 5).
Allow to cool in pan for 10 minutes, then out of pan until cooled.  I like to eat it warm!





Oatmeal banana bread with lots of yummies inside.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Cake

I absolutely love chocolate chip cookies!  Who doesn't?  Well, people with dairy allergies like me think they/we cannot safely eat them.  We are wrong.  At my grocery store I found dairy-free chocolate chips. As always, I found a way to make dairy-free cookies.   This recipe is loosely based on Nestle's cookie recipe. 

Ingredients:
2-1/4 cups whole wheat flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup unsweetend, natural apple sauce
3/4 c sugar in the raw (puree in food processor for a fine grain)
3/4 c packed brown sugar (or Agave nectar)
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1/2 package of dairy-free chocolate chips

Step 1:
Mix sugars, vanilla, apple sauce, and eggs, add remaining ingredients.
Step 2:
Spray 2 cake rounds with cooking spray, pour mixture in, divide evenly.  Bake at 350 for 30 to 35 minutes.  If your oven seems too hot, to prevent burning, turn it down to 300 and cook longer.  It's done with the top is brown and feels firm to the touch. 
Step 3:
Invert out of the pans and cool.

Dairy-free ganache:
This recipe is very loose, meaning you don't have to be exact.  Here's what I did on the last cake:
2.5 squares Baker's semisweet chocolate
1 c dairy-free chips (same ones as above)
3 Tbs coconut milk

Take a 2-quart pan fill 1/3 with water.  Set a glass oven-safe bowl on top.  It should not fit inside, rather rest on the edges.  Turn burner to medium high.  Melt the chocolate in the double boiler (the contraption above).  Use a rubber spatula to stir frequently.  Add the coconut milk a little at a time.  More milk makes it runny, less very thick. Play with it until you get the consistency you like.  The ganache should be hot but not boiling!


bottom layer of chocolate chip cookie cake
Spread ganache over bottom layer.
Finished chocolate chip cookie cake

The rest goes on top.  Let cool. Dig in. 

For cookies, spoon onto parchment paper-lined cookie sheet, cook 3-5 minutes then flatten with a greased spatula.  Cook another 5 minutes. 

Dairy-free bread recipe

I love to bake.  The first thing I remember baking was a batch of Snickerdoodle cookies for my Grandpa's birthday. They were his favorite.  Over the years I have learned to "tweak" recipes to my own liking out of the fun of it and because of my dairy allergy.  I'm also a runner so even though I have a huge sweet tooth, I like to know what I'm eating and prefer home-made to store bought.  I bought a bread maker a few years ago and quickly wore it out.  That didn't stop me.  I simply use the recipe manual as a "guide" and mix the ingredients in my Kitchen-Aid mixer.  

Because of my dairy allergy, I've been playing around with bread recipes and have found one that I really like.  Here it is:

1 cup + 3 Tbs coconut milk, room temperature
2 Tbs coconut oil
3 Tbs molasses
1-1/2 tsp salt
1-1/2 tsp active dry yeast
3-1/4 cups Whole Wheat flour   

Put the ingredients in a mixer in order listed above.  Wet ingredients need to be warm (80 degrees F).  Let sit for 5 or 10 minutes then mix well, approximately 5 minutes. If you don't have a mixer with a dough hook, mix and knead by hand until well incorporated.  Cover with plastic wrap and let sit in a warm area for 30 minutes to an hour until dough has about doubled.  (I turn the oven on to lowest setting when I start, then turn it off, put the mixer in the oven with door vented.)  Mix again for another minute (or knead by hand) i.e. punch down the dough.  Roll it by hand (shape), not on the counter, in your hands like playdough. If the dough sticks to your hands, spray them with cooking spray. Transfer dough into greased bread pan or baking sheet.  Let sit for another hour, this time on the counter is fine unless your house is cooler than 78 degrees.  In that case, a sunny window sill or the oven will work.  Take your time, let the dough rise.  Bake at 350 for at least 30 minutes.  I usually start with a cold oven, seems to give the yeast a little boost.   Bread is finished when thumping on the top sounds hollow. 

The pictures below are the loaf made today:







Do you know how many times the word "yeast" is used in the Bible?  I counted 57. (www.Biblegateway.com).
1 Corinthians 5:7 Get rid of the old yeast, so that you may be a new unleavened batch—as you really are. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.

Scars

I have a lot of scars. You know, those discolored, ugly lines on your skin (not wrinkles) that form after a cut or a wound.  Each one of them is tied to a memory.  I was looking at one the other day and realized I really have a lot.  Did that mean I was really clumsy? Did it mean I've had a very physical life? Was it self-abuse?  Some of them I call "war wounds" and show them off. Others are hidden and no one ever sees them.  

Let me tell you about a few.  My very first one is on my right ankle.  Its about 3.5 inches long.  When I was 3 years old I was riding on the back of my mother's bike.  This was before car seats and baby bike seats.  My dress somehow got caught and as I was pulling it out I forgot about my feet.  My right foot went into the spokes of the bicycle.  It happened right in front of a neighbor's house that my mother knew. I vividly remember sitting on the edge of the sink and the water being blood red.  I was rushed to the hospital where the wound was stitched up.   I can still see eight little dots on either side of the cut from the sutures.  

While I'm at my feet, there are three scars on my left foot.  One at the base of my 4th toe where I did a somersault into a carpet tack. Second grade I think.  One on the inside border where I walked into a drill my step-father left on the floor, and a fairly large scar on the top near my ankle from where my horse fell on me.  

That's kind of a funny story.  Some people came over, the day before 9th grade, that's freshman year of high school, my sister and I were asked to take their son or daughter horseback riding. I didn't want to go.  I jumped on the yearling (maybe she was 2) with no saddle.  Only the bridle and me in my flip-flops.  The horse I was riding on, in the street, slipped on some rocks and fell, landing on my left leg.  I was scraped up from knee to foot.  I jumped back on the horse and we raced home.  In the ER the doctor's were amazed nothing was broken.  The doctor said there was a rock embedded in my foot.  He holds up a bottle of something, said 'this is going to hurt' then started to pour the liquid.  I didn't feel a thing.  I recovered fully, but the memory lingers.  

I have a scar below my right knee.  Don't know from what. A scar on my right thigh from when my dog jumped into the pool and I was helping her out, one on my left from the cat.  Two of my proudest visible scars are from C-sections. I have a scar on my back from jumping over a barbed wire fence, two on my abdomen from mole removal, another on my chin from mole removal.  I have one on my left pinky from when my sister slammed a door on my hand and broke it, a long scar on my right pinky from a cat, and finally, I think, right index finger from broken glass. 

I don't remember the pain of any of these wounds.  Only the memories of the incidents remain.  Some are vague, some are almost too vivid.  

However, it's the scars you don't see that  haunt me. Those scars are the ones where the pain is remembered more than the event that caused them.  The invisible scars are the emotional scars that are not 'war wounds' and are difficult to deal with because we, I, typically do not talk about them.  I can look back and laugh about the above scars because they were mostly accidents.  Emotional scars only fade if we release them to the one who heals.

Some people have visible scars that are very much tied to the emotional ones. They are reminders of things in the past and often in the present.  Whenever I see someone with those types of scars I often want to know, what's their story, how are they dealing with both the physical and the emotional.  

Scars, both physical and emotional, are reminders. I'll never ride a horse barefoot again! I remember my children's birth every time I look in the mirror when getting dressed.  My emotional scars remind me that the people who created those scars are also wounded creatures.  Those scars help me remember to to love as I have been loved and to forgive as I have been forgiven.   Have you ever wondered why Jesus, who brought himself back to life after being beaten and crucified on the cross, left the scars on his hands?  

John 20:24 Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

Maybe those scars were left only for Thomas. 
John 20:26 A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said,“Peace be with you!” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” 28 Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”29 Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
Some people need a little reminder.  I look at my scars differently now.  Not only do they remind me of events in my life, they also remind me of Jesus. He was scarred so that I can live. 
What do your scars mean to you?

Ashley N. Day

The following is re-posted with permission.  See the full blog here.  Thank you Ashley for the tears and the re-positioning of my perspective.


Why I bought—and ate—a cupcake todayThis entry was posted on August 24, 2012, in learn, live and tagged cupcake, live and learn,NYC shooting, overcoming injuries, perspective, setbacks. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment In January my world completely crumbled under me. The person my entire life revolved around and I ripped ourselves apart. The family we’d become no longer was and it was sudden and painful and overwhelming. So I ran. As I do, I ran from it and over it and around it, and one day I ran so hard I tore a muscle and fractured my femur and could no longer run. I couldn’t even walk. To my broken heart I added a broken bone and I had no option but to let both heal.For six months I’ve reluctantly fumbled through therapy, X-rays, MRIs, scans and ultra sounds with appointment after appointment resulting in four and eight and 16 more weeks on crutches and an infinite amount of time from running again. I drained most of my money, worked like a fiend, and gradually grew more and more frustrated with the time and difficulty it took to get anywhere. When surgery finally came, I had lost all confidence in my body and my luck. Scared and uncertain, I went to church the day before the procedure and watched a video on a woman who’d just overcome cancer for the fourth time and whose faith was contagious to every patient around her. And I lost every bit of fear and hesitance. I went into surgery with an entirely new, hopeful attitude.What I needed that day wasn’t sympathy or stress relief, I needed perspective. I had all the support and encouragement in the world, but my fear stemmed from discouragement and exhaustion and maybe a little self pity. The truth is, this has been one of the hardest years of my life, but it’s been a walk in the park compared to so many other people’s circumstances. And although at your breaking point, you need that moment when it’s okay to be upset, the moment after you have to put your feelings into perspective.I spent the first five months on crutches trying to understand why this had happened to me, why something so defeating would trample me while I was already down and why life kept kicking dust in my face. It wasn’t because I was ungrateful about my ability to run, it was that I took credit for my ability to walk, and the truth is the crutches actually carried me when I no longer could. God saw I’d let another person take over caring for me and determining my worth, and it took his place. But I learned to lean on him again and not take even the simplest of blessings for granted. And I learned that as hard as this part of my story is to tell, it’s still a part of my story.Today I was cleared to walk after half a year of crutching—half a year of needing assistance carrying anything, shopping, doing laundry, walking my dog or using stairs. Half a year of the bus, spending a fortune on cabs, having three to five appointments a week, making a scene everywhere I go, annoying every restaurant and bar goer I inconvenience, and never ever exercising. It is a big, long awaited day for me, but as I leave the hospital I pass a man in a wheelchair with only one leg who apologizes for being in my way. Perspective.When I crutched upstairs to get what I hoped were my last X-rays, the entire waiting room was glued to the TV where breaking news of a shooting near the Empire State building was scrolling across the screen and people were on stretchers and bystanders were fleeing the scene. And I thought of every friend and former coworker of mine who works within three blocks of there and all of my friends and family out of state thought of me. Perspective.After the final clearance, I feel exactly like the night I got my first car and pledged to never be hard on my dad again because he’d gifted me this. That day when every 16-year-old starts volunteering to run errands just to grab the wheel of new found freedom. I want to walk somewhere and accomplish something completely on my own to celebrate, but I check back on the developing story and read a woman at a crosswalk watched the woman beside her suddenly fall to the ground, shot in the hip. My hip was torn and fractured and hurt, but she was shot in hers today. I want to update my status and announce to everyone whose only ever known me on crutches that I’m walking and normal and ready to take on the world, but it seems so small on a day like today that’s not at all about me.Today may have been her last day and we all wonder, what did she think in that moment, if she had a moment to think? We put ourselves in her shoes—when we take 10 minutes from our not at all life or death work—to consider if this happened at our crosswalk instead. We think of who we would’ve wished we’d reconciled with, who we would’ve wanted to say bye to, what we would’ve regretted not accomplishing or where we would’ve liked to be standing instead. We wonder what will be remembered about us and what will be such a shame we didn’t get around to.I think of the little things I care way too much about, the time I waste, the dreams I put off, and the family I miss. I think of what I need to do and say and experience before I’m at that crosswalk. And then I head to the market to pick out something fattening and forbidden and delicious looking, and I buy it. I buy a chocolate, iced cupcake, because I’m 115 pounds and dieting like a psychopath, and I eat it even if it takes me all day. Because I can’t change the world right this second, but I have no idea what else will happen today, and it’d be a shame to snack on celery and carrots over a lack of perspective.

Where has perspective knocked you off your feet?