Lay Your Armor Down

So, we just had a miniature ridiculously huge disaster at my house.  


It is a gorgeous day, and we've had the windows open a lot.  Gorgeous.  A few minutes ago, I casually yelled from the living room, "Oh, its the ice cream truck!"  to which Tim replied, "Haha...really?"  


I heard him shuffling around in his desk, and he entered the room with a handful of one dollar bills, proudly displaying them as if carrying a bouquet of roses.  


Me:  What's this...?
TGY: The neighborhood's a loop, he'll come back around.
Me:  What do you want?
TGY:  No, it's for you. 


I smiled a wide smile.  The next 10 minutes promised deliciousness.  


Moments later, he yelled, "Here it comes!"  


I sprung from the couch yelling, "I don't have my shoes on! Where are my shoes?" 


"Who cares...?  Go out barefoot!"  


I dug in the closet for a matching pair and threw open the door...


 only to see the truck whiz by.  


I was, in a word, devastated.  


And I hated how I felt.  I was devastated because 1.) I love ice cream and 2.) I equate the way I approached the situation to the way I approach a lot of things in life. 


While I was digging around for shoes, I felt nervous...silly even.  I felt shy.  


I was also worried about things like approaching a stranger while wearing no make-up and sweats.  Okay, I'll be honest.  I was also worried about ((gulp)) calories.  


There was worry....and maybe a little bit of fear.  


When we become consumed with worry, we miss out on fabulous opportunities like new jobs and new loves...and ice cream.  


I do not want to live like this.  I cannot live like this.  


Tim hugged me gently when he heard the news and we decided that it is still early. We'll get em' next time.  


...and when we do, I shall wear this...

File this under "Things I will Do Differently Next Time."

Love, H.