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If We Were Meant to Fly…

Ever heard the old saying, “If we were meant to fly, God would have given us wings?” Well, trust me, we don\’t have um, and we can\’t fly. Although some of us try.

2010 Lesson Learned: When you try to cram everything into one minute of time, you really need to reassess your pace.

Picture this…You\’re rushing around trying to finish an article, the thoughts are flowing, the muse is on your shoulder and both of you are loving it. You two are actually laughing at your own stuff. Life couldn\’t be sweeter.

DING! You get an email saying deliver the article post haste. Whattttt?!!! But…but…they said you had two weeks! Immediately going into warp-writing speed, you lose the rhythm and your muse takes a hike. The trader!

DING! You get another urgent message that says, “Ms. Richardson, we love your cat, Miss Kitty, but did you forget to pick her up yesterday from the vet\’s office?” I have a cat? Oh yeahhhhh.

Just when you think things will calm down, your doorbell rings and you\’re still sportin\’ your pj\’s…Hey, when you\’re in the writing zone, you stop for nothing; well…except a snack.

So you run to the bedroom, throw on some clothes (note to self: do laundry) and start to run up the hallway.

RINGGGGGG! Are you kidding me? But this could be “THE” important call you\’ve been waiting on all day!! You pick up speed and that—that my friend is when you trip over something (we know it wasn\’t the cat) and become airborne.

After bouncing off both walls and falling in slow motion, (well, it felt like it) straight into the large, solid cherry end table–thereby sending pictures, candles plus a G-L-A-S-S vase in different directions, performing a 180 in the air (I swear somebody held up a card that read “8”) and then falling on the right knee followed by a perfect landing on your face…you realize…you immediately realize…two things. Oh yeah, that\’s gonna leave some marks, and I reallllllllly need to learn to pace myself.

You slowly and painfully turn over and as you lay there in the floor, you hear the UPS man leave and the phone goes silent. The pain; however, is deafening. Worst of all, and I do mean worst of all, you see the cobwebs in the ceiling, paint that need touching up, and notice the fans need dusting. That\’s what I call adding insult to injury.

Fly, smy…from now on, I\’m letting 2010 happen at a snail\’s pace. Course…just to be on the safe side, I\’m ordering some wings.

Georgia Richardson Author, Speaker, Southern Humorist
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