Put Your Money Where Your Paradise Is

I’m writing a short note now about loving where you are. Before you jump to conclusions that I’m going to throw out something in a big hurry just to fill in for those missed days and I’m not going to even try to be funny, let me put your mind at ease. You are absolutely correct. That is my intention.

However, I’ve been giving something some thought the last couple of days, and I’m going to unleash the torrent of my ideas, be they only about a paragraph long, because I feel they are profound.

But first excuse me while I go to the kitchen and get a heaping fistful of that chocolate cherry trail mix I wrote about in my last post. Boy was that stuff tasty.

Well drat the luck, as somebody amusing once said. It’s gone! I searched everywhere – in the cabinets, on the nightstand, in the bonus room, but that little treasure trove of trail mix has disappeared. Doggone it! Thank goodness I found a Ghiradelli semi-sweet chocolate bar the size of a greeting card that hit the spot. No, I didn’t eat it all, I left a couple of squares to the rightful owner so they’d know they hadn’t imagined putting it in the cupboard. After all, I’m a considerate person.

So we were visiting friends over in Central Oregon (my excuse for getting behind in my blogs) and the sun was shining the whole time and nary a cloud in the sky. It’s hard to complain about warm sunshine after living in Portland during this incredibly cool summer we’re having (to find out why – SHAMELESS PLUG – get the global warming book I mentioned in my previous blog).

One morning we came out of the bedroom to be greeted by blue, sunny skies through every window, and our host said, “Another day in paradise.”

Didn’t Jimmy Buffet sing a song about another day in paradise? Somebody did. Anyway, I got to thinking about it and I concluded **** PROFOUND SAYING ALERT***** that:

PARADISE IS WHERE THE HEART IS

This might sound a whole lot like another saying, “Home is where the heart is,” but that one isn’t centered and in all capital letters, which means it’s not nearly as good as the one I just coined. I wonder if I can copyright that and get royalties when the world starts using it? Because, you know, paradise is sometimes where the money is, too.

All things considered, I think I’ve done very well to coin this phrase and write an entire blog doing it. I have far exceeded my expectations. That should be enough for you, but I know you’re greedy for more, and since you’ve asked nicely and added “pretty please with a cherry on top,” I will elaborate.

Blue skies and sunshine might certainly be a formula for paradise, but I’ve had a taste of paradise when I’ve been on the side of a mountain in the freezing cold and hit a bump on my skies that should have sent me flailing end over end but miraculously recovered without falling and breaking a leg. It’s exhilarating. But how come skies and skies is spelled the same? Isn’t the world confusing enough?

I’ve also been in paradise when my teenage daughter asks me to go to a movie with her. OMG I will drop anything to spend time with either of my kids because they are scattered like my Uncle Vance’s ashes all over the trunk of my cousin Nancy’s car. That’s a funny story I’ll try to remember to tell one day. My kids rarely light in one place long enough except to say, “Mom, you already asked me what I’m doing today and I’ve already told you.” I’m not so sure I DID ask, and I certainly don’t remember what they said. They make stuff up to drive me crazy. Even so, I love when they’ll forsake their friends and hang out with me, even when I know it’s because none of their friends can do anything right that minute and also I’ll pay for their movie ticket. Still, it’s more of a paradise to hang out with them than being in the tropics sipping vodka and POG while swinging in a hammock on the beach. I think.

The point is that paradise is in our heads. If it weren’t, then everyone in warm places would be happy, and everyone else would be miserable. That may pan out in many cases, but not all. There are many, many cranky shop clerks in those little beach stores in Lahaina. In fact, there are few things crankier than a middle-aged Hawaiian woman in a t-shirt shop during the heat of the day in Maui. I’ve heard them mumble, “I got your paradise RIGHT HERE!” and though I’m not sure what that means, it didn’t sound happy.

So, gentle readers of my gentle humor, you probably don’t need to look any further than your own back yard for your little patch of paradise. And if you find it in the form of money, send me some!