282. Never swing at the first pitch. But don’t be afraid to strike out. No man bats 1.000.
-from this site, discovered today… love it…
Today I decided to take photos of inanimate things I love. And then I decided to notice a story happening around me, because I’ve been a little stuck in my head these past few days… This is my way of swinging the bat hard today. Today was a great day.
1. Not new info, but running feeds my soul. The sun and the sky and God and music and the movement and outside… these are life to me all combined and sweaty. I’d kinda like to write a love song to my running shoes. All 4 million pairs of ’em.
2. Speaking of sky, the weather this week? Perfection in sun and breeze.
3. Prescription sunglasses. Goodbye dry eyes. My contacts have been relegated to occasional use. These babies? Cheapo from the men’s section at the Target Optical Center.
4. Organic peanut butter. Who knew that no sugar and a little stirring action could create such perfection in something that was already pretty much perfect?
5. The aux cable and i-pod combination in my car makes me very, very happy. So does Kate Nash.
6. Pineapple and I get along oh-so-well. I get my produce from an organic co-op and don’t always love what I get. The last three cycles have included pineapple. My belly thanks the co-op powers that be.
7. I have a love-hate relationship with Dallas and traffic. Turns out if you have great music and sunny skies and the aforementioned perfect weather none of that matters. Life is good. I am thankful.
8. My most favorite things. Period. So full of all the stories and words and poems and thoughts and prayers from more than half my life…
9. Then there’s this:
Every six months or so, I wake up craving McDonald’s. I don’t know if it’s whimsical nostalgia or what… I want a cheeseburger. I want fries. I want Coke. When such a day arrives, I pick up a value meal rather than attempting to talk myself out of it. My mostly-vegetarian-organic-borderline-granola eating habits should diminish the majority of the harm of a thousand or so calories of not-quite-food, right?
That’s what I tell myself.
This morning that craving greeted me before my eyes opened as my arm flailed in search of the snooze button. I stumbled towards the coffee maker salivating over those pickles that make a McDonald’s burger. And ketchup. And mustard. And sub-par bread. I met up with Heather for a morning walk and went for a run after that, so I started the day with an 8-mile calorie void rumbling in my stomach, the rough equivalent of the desired burger/fry combo.
I went for lunch. I did not drive through. The line of cars at the drive-thru snaked around the building and into the neighboring gas station parking lot.
The manager was taking orders in Spanish from the one guy in line ahead of me. A middle-aged guy with a sleeve of aged tattoos came in behind me. He greeted me, and I tried not to stare at his swelled-shut black eye.
I ordered. I waited for my food. The manager greeted the man behind me. “You look different,” she said. “You look good.”
He smiled. “I got a job. I cleaned up.” He put two dollars on the counter and pulled a quarter out of his pocket as he ordered two chicken sandwiches. “Can you throw in some fries?” He asked. “That’s all I got, and I don’t get paid until Friday.”
The manager nodded. Done.
That’s how a much craved McDonald’s trip allowed me to see that the best of humanity shows up in even the tiniest sliver of grace. I love that.