Life can be celebratory or angst-filled. It’s a choice that individuals face daily, though most of the world’s people may not feel it to be so. God granted us choice via free will.

I live in America, where choices are abundant when one is middle class. When I was a child I blew bubbles – once atop a Rose Parade float, saying “Happy New Year” to the world. Now that I’ve aged, I celebrate with confetti. I have maids, a bi-monthly service, to clear up the debris, so let it fly – at least metaphorically!

Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm and I have an abundance at the ready. I share freely, so jealousy is unnecessary.

I am a born cheerleader, so jump-and-shout is in my nature.

Especially on days when my aging knees aren’t sore. Because, though I attempt to confine myself to chair-dancing, sometimes the music moves me to my feet and I bounce, gyrate, and wiggle more than I should. Plus the music drowns the sound my knees make: snap, crepitate, and pop. (use the context to learn a new word – wink-wink)

Like I did last weekend, have done before, and will very likely repeat. Music enlivens my spirit. It’s most incongruous for me to remain in a chair when the blues or rock music resounds in a room.

Because I’ve joined the legions of secretaries of life to be an author, long periods of being seated in a chair are required. So one can learn to write right and document creatively and well. But no worries, if one’s document is deemed a shitty first draft – when the typed draft is put through one’s shredder, it’s an excellent source of confetti.

There’s always an upside as all optimists know.

This type of self-talk is a good tool to counteract depressed feelings and thoughts that sprout whenever I’ve exceeded my knees’ capacity for walking, dancing, and/or sprinting. Oh, how I used to jump during recess during my elementary school years https://www.pjcolando.com/recess-reminiscence/

Can you detect the subtext, the purpose of this blog post? If not, I’ll spill it…I  cheered myself through the angst of aging that limits bring…

I hope it’s yours, too…