reset

There should always be an opportunity to step back and realize that life did not end up the way you first thought, or maybe even feared.  The coke machine did not take your money, the napkin did not rip–even with the buffalo sauce, and the tire never fell off the minivan.  We always seem to believe that the worst will happen and that it will somehow destroy us, or at least bring us some sort of discomfort somewhere between nausea and major surgery.  Yet, we still inhale deeply and life is still crawling toward its ultimate end.   We try to accelerate existence and hope that we will not have to stop and ponder what we have made of it, but the moment will eventually overtake us and we will be forced to reexamine the mess of it.  What should you do when you come to the crust at the edge of a delectable slice of a piece of a pizza pie?  Do you simply continue delving into the barrier that has hemmed in the sauce and the toppings with little or no regard to its importance, or do you stop and realize the gift of water and flour and hand-tossing that has brought you this experience of sensory overload.  I am ashamed to admit that I often thoughtlessly toss it to the side when I am at Cici’s, because I want to save more room for the macaroni and cheese pizza that Josephine just bellowed into the buffet existence.  We have learned to gorge ourselves with very little thought to the actual tastes and flavor bonanzas that bless our palate on a regular basis.  We are never-present automatons that simply do not appreciate the importance of this exact moment and millisecond in the span of human history that we occupy and navigate.  We try to blur the lines and hope that no one will ever investigate our jumbo fun books and see that we never really learned how to color.  We did not even use the sharpener on the crayola box.  It is in mint condition.  We were not patient enough.  There was not enough time.  Halo, World of Warcraft and American Girl dolls were far more glamorous. It is time to unplug the clock, pull out a sundial and replace the pads and rotors of our lives.  We should indulge ourselves in the gift of the present and eat the crust, even if we have sold our souls to South Beach.