working toward normal

I know there's really no such thing as normal. There are things that may be normative--for me, personally, or for the culture at large--but normal is really what you make it.

It occurs to me this morning that I am a miserable failure these days at making normal.

Take this pumpkin. The dog is normal in my life (and isn't he/she just the sweetest thing?), but I can't remember the last time I bought a pumpkin, never mind bought one and carved it. A normal thing to do this time of year. A seasonal thing to do. An American thing to do, no matter your race, creed, or the color of your eyes.

My Mama raised me better than this. It's not that we made a big deal out of carving pumpkins when I was a child--Halloween was not a big deal for Mom in the decorating and go-all-out department--it's just something that came with the seasonal territory.

Of late I, we (as in Ken and I), don't take advantage of seasonal opportunities to get out into the world and play and participate and, well, be normal. I'm lamenting that. We have ruts. And when an occasion pops up to burst free of the rut we make noises about doing so and then, nothing. What is wrong with us? Aside from the fact that whatever we do needs to cost nothing, what is holding us back? When did we become fuddy-duddies?

I know it's the wrong season, but I think we need to declare our independence from the doldrums. Or at least I do. Somehow or other I need to generate the steam that can gather into momentum and propel me forward into doing and not just being. I'm pretty good at being, flaws notwithstanding.

The floor is now open to suggestions of things to consider doing in the coming weeks and months that will help break this stubborn mold of same old, same old. I'll start by suggesting that we go out and get a pumpkin.