Promise #25: Leave on a high note

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It happened by chance that I heard Jerry tell George, “When you hit that high note, you say goodnight and walk off.” Thursday night was date night in 1998 and that coincided with this episode of Seinfeld. Funny how life unfolds.

I’m surprised that the actual tip—always leave on a high note—never blew in one ear and out the other. It blew in and took the empty seat next to tip number one: always wear clean underwear.

I’m not one to point fingers, but I think my ego is to thank. I think it saw that little line for what it was and then started wearing it like a suit of armor. After all, the only way to leave on a high note is to check your ego at the door.

Consider Lance Armstrong. If his ego allowed him to pedal away from the Tour while he was still a beacon of sunshine in a yellow jersey, he’d still be a beacon of sunshine in a yellow jersey…not some guy having trouble pedaling a bike.

I’m just saying: I know it’s hard.

Nobody wants to walk away from a world full of rainbows and unicorns. That state of being is usually the goal. And therein lies the whole problem. Blissdom should be the platform, not the prize.

Promise #24: Mix up a little sin-tini

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A long and fruitful google search for “twisted pinky” led me to liquor-world.

With angels singing in the background, I scrolled the list of twisted recipes. And there it was—nestled between the Love-tini and Original Sin—my new, official, summer sin-tini:

Twisted Pinky

3/4 oz Smirnoff Citrus
3/4 oz Smirnoff Orange
1/2 oz triple sec
1/2 oz cranberry juice
Splash each of lemon-lime soda and sweet n’ sour
4 lemon wedges
Shake. Sit back. Smile.

Promise #23: March in your own parade

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I’m grateful for the chance to say the word “independence” during the summer. It’s the one time during the year that I miss it most. This is the season when I don my Julie McCoy hat and blindly bravely take the Entertainment Sea with the what-are-we-going-to-do-today boys that my husband and I lovingly created just ten and eleven years ago.

Allow me to add: I know I’m blessed to have this (lack of) freedom. Really, I know. I’m reminded every time I whip up breakfast, clean a fresh wound, make lunch, referee a fight, do laundry, plan play dates, clean the house and/or stroll through the grocery store with everyone in tow.

Freedom is number one on the list of things I take for granted. On a bad day, I’m sure my freedom is partying with a stray sock. The thought of it makes me crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m free. It’s just not something I celebrate on a daily basis. I’m always so busy helping everyone enjoy a daily dose of happiness.

You can imagine my excitement for Independence Day. Not only is it a national holiday (translation: Julie McCoy gets the day off), but it’s also a reminder that my husband and I are created equal, which means he’s just as capable as delivering the daily dose as I.

So while he’s doing that, I plan to march in my own parade. It will start at the stove and end in the laundry room where I will search for the enviable sock. I don’t care if it takes me all day. I will find that sock and her dance partner, freedom. You’ll see the fireworks when we’re reunited again. Just take a gander at the sky.