Pay Dues: The Cost of Doing Business

“Nothin’ from nothin’ leaves nothin’. You gotta have somethin’ if you wanna be with me. ” ~Billy Preston

Freedom isn’t free. There is a cost for everything. Understanding this is a foundational stone for all entrepreneurial ventures. It is an integrity jewel that will give you access to maximize everything you do.

As your start-up goes from brainchild to fruition, you are going to meet some vital contractors along the way. Valuing their products and services will get you add-ons beyond what you can afford.

The Architect

This professional will be there to lend their expertise to your foundation and business structure. It is your strategist, who will listen attentively as the floodgate of your ideas bursts open. They will take your passion and transform your thoughts into a workable plan. You will be amazed by just how doable your witty invention is!

Image: Business Builders Global

The architect possesses insight and skill that has a tangible value. The correct advice can save you thousands to millions of dollars by helping you avoid costly mistakes to begin with. If you did not need a professional to develop your business blueprint, you wouldn’t be sitting across the table from one. So pay up!

Material Maker

Everyone can order their first business cards from VistaPrint. After you upload your logo and use their template, guess what you have to do? Pay them! Well, the same goes for the independent graphic artist. They bare the cost of some overhead to bring you quality t-shirts, bookmakers, and brochures.

Image: Iconic Digital. Agency

The material maker is truly a visual artist. They have the ability to create a digital fingerprint for your brand. When done correctly, you will be able to use those materials for years and years to come. If you’re going to minimize the value of their services, do not waste their time with asking for mock-ups that you do not want to actually purchase. Go to Office Depot and buy some software and learn how to do what they do. Pay them or pay dues!

Security Detail

You may have to hire security detail to help you protect your investments. These heavy hitters are your lawyers, accountants, and compliance professionals. They help you to fortify your structure and watch for loopholes that can make you fiscally vulnerable.

Business clients are not typically expected to have the time or know how to oversee every aspect of their business. This is why certain tasks are outsourced to independent contractors. These arrangements allow you to build a comprehensive legal and financial team without the excessive overhead. Appreciate their worth to your bottom line. You get only what you pay for!

I’m just saying, we all have to budget expenses to stay in business. Do not undercut those that you sought-after to join your extended team. (Brace yourself for a real shocker!) Your business is NOT more important than theirs. Be the type of client that you want to attract!

Sidenote: Contractors remember that you are not obligated to work with anyone. If a potential clients drools over my ideas, but scoffs at my price point then they do not understand what the information they are seeking is worth. It is best to not enter an agreement, because they will constantly consume your time with open ended questions and then wonder why resources aren’t free. Time is money. Move on.

Each business or legal case I touch is important to me and gets access to my whole brain! I’m even surprised by what treasures are locked in that vault. My services will not be minimized by someone unwilling to lead with excellence.

My contribution to the DP Prompt: Constant.

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Life plans

Life is what you make it. So I’ve been told. Sometimes, I wonder if life actually makes me.


I try to be a good planner. I update tasks in my daily planner, on my phone calendar, and in my strategies book (as needed). I’m not tightly wound around my system, but I do get flashes of anger when the day won’t let me tick off tasks. It’s highly possible that it’s a hot flash that was just waiting for an excuse; nevertheless, I think it’s something a smidgen less sinister.

The flow of life doesn’t play well with other forces.

You are either going with the flow or you aren’t. Life does not let you have it both ways. The directive force within life can be collaborated with. It can even be finessed at times. However, it cannot be controlled.

Control is the antithesis of the flow. Control crunches good vibes into a box and then tells it to stop being square. Control restricts the energy of the mind and the body of the visionary from being able to see and do.

Where list making is a wonderful technique to stay on track, it cannot become so legalistic that you are unable to live off the grid. There are days when you may have to constantly readjust your priorities. That’s ok, within reason. You do not have to scrap your entire agenda, because the baby got sick or an visitor stopped by. Let your plan be good enough to leave room for life.

Don’t plan your way out of opportunities.

Guilty, as charged! I have most definitely planned my way right out of great opportunities. I was so focused on getting everything right for when a door would open, that I didn’t even notice when the door DID open.

Image: Fortune Builders

I get sucked into the planning vortex; blurring my peripheral vision. I’m caught up in the excitement and can’t see a damn thing. I kept my focus on the tasks, but forgot the purpose.

You do not have to compromise excellence in order to keep a balanced focus. I have experienced the strain of mulling a question over and around in my head and it wasn’t until I played with my grandbabies for a little while that the answer became clear. I gave myself a break and my thoughts slowly untangled. I could follow the linear thought train much easier than digging out ideas from the hot heap.

Look up from your papers sometimes.

Diligence is a great quality to have. In so many ways, good old fashioned hard work can help you accomplish more than planning can. Planning let’s you logically map out responses to every conceivable contingency. The hands on dirty work brings you face-to-face with previously inconceivable scenarios that push you to craft solutions on the spot. Innovation!

Image: Buzzle

If for no other reason, look up so your neck will stop hurting. Seriously, you are carrying all that stress and tension in your neck and shoulders. Relax. When you look up, you will spot new possibilities. You won’t lose sight of the world around you. You won’t miss out on opportunities to live.

My humble submission to DP Prompt: Compromise

Copyright, 2018. R. Frank. All rights reserved.

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Fatalistic Impressions

Of all the isms, I’m most annoyed by the rhetoric of fatalism. Where there is no hope for change, there is literally no hope. Period.

I am always taken aback when I hear someone ramble on about how their life is ordered by a script that they cannot alter and have no responsibility in it’s characters or reoccurring themes. It’s not that I don’t appreciate and respect each person’s right to their own life philosophies. I just don’t understand why someone would choose one in which they have no control or responsibly.

In hopes of gaining some insight, I exhausted my brain to at least be clear about the concept. My hope is that I will be enlightened as to where this philosophy could lead me to a more stable and content existence.

Fatalist Points:

  1. I am powerless to do anything other what I actually do. I do not have the ability to shape the outcome of my future or that of my society. It has been predetermined that I am who I am, do what I do, and will only experience what I am suppose to experience.
  2. Because I accept point 1, I am content with the inevitably of all my outcomes in life.
  3. My life’s energy will not be wasted revolting against things I cannot change.

Fatalistic Application:

  1. The sun rises and sets each day. This will happen regardless of what I do or don’t do. I have no control over set principles such as these.
  2. If the sun refuses to rise, it is not by my doing. I had no influence in that event; therefore, I must accept the inevitability that this could occur.
  3. How can I fight and win against the sunrise? My efforts would be futile.

I chose the sun as my fixed principle, because that is something I can agree that I have no control over. The idea of the sun not rising is so far out of my scope of experience that I believe the occurrence is almost impossible. (I said almost, because of the “if” factor. Where there is an “if” there is no absolute)

So just relating fatalism principles to a fixed event, I get the limit of my ability to influence it. I can even see that with my plethora of blood relatives (and boy do I have a lot of them!) They did not vote to choose me; I didn’t send a special request for them. We were not in control of our lineage.

With that, we did not check the high blood pressure box, or color in the lupus circle, yet many in our bloodline are sufferers. The predisposition to these hereditary ailments was and is out of our control. Yes, we can eat right, exercise, and live holistic lifestyles, but those efforts are no guarantee that we will not develop these conditions. “If” we have this gene, we could develop this health issue. The “if” means it’s not absolute. Yet and still, fatalism asks that I accept that this could occur regardless of my interventions.

So far, I’m kinda digging points 1 and 2, but 3 got me FUCKED up! I would be a stone-cold fool not to fall on my face and plead to God to help me “if” the sun doesn’t wake up one day! Would there even be day? How would I now know night from day? I know with surety that I would try to do something, even if I had a fleeting thought that it was in vain. (But that’s a whole ‘nother ism๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ)

And what about these “ify” ailments. I wouldn’t dare just lay down and accept a revolution by my body’s systems. Either my body or my soul would submit, and my mind seems to be more partial to my soul. I would fight. I do fight. I would rather die trying to overcome enemies than lay down for a slaughter. Oh hell no!


I’ve come to the conclusion that fatalism is just too dark for me. I can agree that there are things in life that I do not have control over and circumstances that I may be predetermined to face. However, I cannot swallow the lack of personal responsibility that it would take to not even try to make my life and society better. It seems to me to be a lazy man’s ism. No effort. No work required.

On an emotional level, it seems sad to just let life happen to you. Let external things impact you without opposition. Come what may with no preparation for what may come. This separateness screams NOT WORTHY! It seems to be saying we’re not qualified to participate in our own journey through life. Fatalism fails to empower and embolden. It pacifies and makes the sleepy content.

Note to readers:

I love and appreciate you all. If you are a fatalist, my goal is not to offend or belittle your choice. My mission is to always try to bring myself to a point of understanding, even if I disagree. But if you feel a pang of resentment, remember I was just writing what you were predestined to read. It was out of my control ๐Ÿฆ‹

Friends 2.0: How many of us have them?

Friends. How many of us have them? Friends. The ones we can depend on?” ~ Whodini (1984)

These lyrics have been stuck in my head for days. I think it’s time to mull them over, so that I can let them go.

Friends. How many of us have them?

I hope we all have two good friends. Three if you can handle that many. I have three longtime good friends, maybe even four. I don’t care to work with more than that. I guess the first question is: what’s a friend?

A friend is someone that you genuinely connect with who is just as sincere in their connection to you. Reciprocity. Love, laughter, encouragement, and support are freely given and exchanged. It’s not about how often you talk. It’s about the fact that when you do it feels like no time has passed in-between you. Friends.

It’s also important to know what a friend is not. Hurt, humiliation, and ambiguity are not the makings of a true friendship. There are people who only look out for their own gain. I know a simple way to spot them: listen to the self-praising words that come out of their mouths.

You are not special. If they demean others, they will demean you too!

Friends. The ones we can depend on.

I’ve seen friends stick together through deaths and illnesses. I’ve seen friends hold each other up after job losses. Friends are dependable.

I know my very Bestest friend (Shon is her name and traveling is her game! Cheap plug๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿฝ check her out on Instagram @shesmilesatsunrise). We have been best friends for about 29 years. She’s been with me through relationships with my other best friends (that’s why she’s the Bestest๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿฝ ). She’s always super busy, so she never gets made at me crazy schedule. I don’t even get to see her once a year. Earlier this year when Hubby has knee surgery, she flew out here a week later so help me strengthen up for his care. She booked us a room at the Ritz Carlton, ordered us massages and facials, and got me tipsy at the bar. We danced. We laughed. We cried. We slept. She took time to give me the time when I needed it the most. She’s my G.O.A.T.!

This does not mean that your friends are your beck and call girls! That what’s going on with you is more important than their own journey. They have lives too. Their lives are also filled with happiness and sadness. They need encouraging words as well. Friends should always have room to be engaged in their own world guilt-free. If you guilt trip your friend, because her new romance has kept her away from happy hour then YOU, my dear, are not a good friend. ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ

Friends. Before we go any further.

Friendships with the opposite sex are equally important. No one can convince me that males and females can’t be friends. That’s ludacris (not the rapper; the immaturity). The opposite sex can bring perspectives to your dialogues that would otherwise be missing. The male/female approach to problem solving is not typically the same. Both sides are valuable. These aren’t mandatory, but they are beneficial.

One of my friends is a guy. We’ve been friends for about 27 years. We’ve counseled each other through four marriages, three divorces, four kids, three abortions, four career changes, and three college degrees. That’s a lot of information shared ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ but the great part is when one of us calls the other, we don’t need the whole back story about why the other one feels certain ways about certain things. We get it.

The foundation of friendship is authenticity. You have got to be able to be your whole self with the other person without fear of shame or disapproval. This does not mean your friends are obligated to agree with you, but that they can disagree and love you at the same time.

“Show me your friends and I can tell you all about yourself” ~Pastor Chris

I do find Pastor’s saying to be true. The company we keep is a reflection of who we are. Yes, there are differences between us and our friends; however, our core values tend to be quite similar. The more you walk with them and talk with them, the more you start to sound alike. Your ideas become commingled. This is why it’s so important to choose friends wisely.


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Parents need good standards

We raised our children with rules to follow. Standards. Expectations of how they conducted themselves. Don’t lie (thieves lie so if you’ll lie you might steal). Don’t spit (it’s gross)! Don’t date until you’re sixteen (sons and daughters). Simple don’ts.

I caught several of them in lies over their preteen and teen years. Things like “I’m going to So-and-so’s house”, but I catch you walking on the other side of town with Whose-dat. Or “Did you guys clean the kitchen and the living room?” “Oh yeah Mom. It’s been done”. Lies. Fuckin’ lies. With my key in the door, I could hear them scrambling to put my house back together again.

They proved to me that liars tend to steal too. Now I didn’t raise no outright thieves or nothing, but they definitely took candy money out of my change jar. The dollar bills always remained, but quarters and dimes sure came up missing. ๐Ÿ˜‚ The funny in that is that organized pilfering was the whole point of the jar!! It’s where I’d send them for ice cream truck money, last minute field trip money, and a little teenage gas money (you can’t get too far on $3 worth of change when a gallon costs $4 ๐Ÿค”๐Ÿคฃ). I’ve come to realize that telling kids “don’t” translates to “do” in their ears. That doesn’t mean don’t say “don’t”. It means be prepared for when they “do” the “don’t”. Telling boys not to spit is equivalent to saying “don’t piss on the toilet seat”. There’s always slip ups and spit drips. I remember very clearly watching my Hubby watch the boys see who could make their loogie hang the closest to the ground and then slurp it up. ๐Ÿคข GROSS!!!!!! I married their nasty-ass ring leader ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ

So you can image how the “don’t date until you’re sixteen” thing worked out. I will say that 4 out of 6 were obedient. The two that didn’t now admit that they emotionally scarred themselves forever. (WHICH IS WHY IT WAS AGAINST THE RULES!!) Now they understand that we were trying to protect their mental and emotional health, as well as physical. Especially our sons. Girls are so wishy washy and fickle that young men can be drug on an emotional roller coaster, put through the love ringer, and then hung out to dry (and get no sympathy for the severity of their heartbreak).

Men and women are fed lies that men do not feel love to the same depth and capacity as women. I call bullshit!!! That lie robs them of genuine experiences, because partners can be callous to their vulnerability. It was easier getting our daughter to stick with the rule, since it socially acceptable for parents to restrict the social lives of girls. Dating rules are not equally applied to boys, but they need the same parental protection.

Rules. Rules. Rules. Standards is what I call them. I know that my kids didn’t always obey them. They tested every barrier to see if it was sturdy. They never went far past the fence. I know as adults they will understand why those rules were there and appreciate parents that provided boundaries and buffers.

Now I get to sit back at laugh when my grandkids break their rules! โœ”๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿฝ

An Empty Shell

Not being present while you’re present is equivalent to being out of mind while you’re still in sight.

Ever eat dinner with someone that was on social networks the majority of the time? They took an “usie” of y’all while you were waiting to be seated. Smile for the ‘gram! They snapped y’all’s chat about brussel sprouts versus asparagus. “Do baby cabbage and little fiber sticks taste better steamed or roasted?” ๐Ÿค” Let’s see if the book of faces can educate our palates. Picture of your dressed plates… uploaded. You are together at the same time, but in a totally different space. There is no continuum of connection between the big and small of things. Out of mind.

Have you ever gone to the park for a play date? Kids are halted on the slide (put your feet out) for a photo-op. “Becky when you pump your feet back look over here and smile!!” Little Becky tries, but the action exposes frustration in a parent trying to capture a moment. On to the see-saw. Up. Snap. Down. Snap. Time to leave the park. The kid is begging to go back. A parent satisfied that a child enjoyed their time. Who was paying attention when fun was nowhere in sight?

The sun goes down and you’re glad it’s snuggle time. Fat full and cozy, semi-propped up in bed. The focus of your affection climbs in. “Hey what’s on TV?” Click on. Flip. Flip. Read the guide. Flip. Watching a late night movie can be nice. Wait. Gotta check emails real quick. Sunrise. The most intimate place is to be far away, but held close. The loneliest person can see and touch a body that’s mind is content in a parallel universe. Here. For you. An empty shell.

Someone else’s shoes

Here is an ism that I encourage my children to live by:

Just keep walking and you’ll end up in someone else’s shoes.

Reread it… I’ll wait ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฝ

It has been my observation in life that there is nothing new under the sun. All situations have a component that is universal. We may not all have to recover from a foreclosure, but we’ve all at some point had the worry of how to make ends meet. If this doesn’t apply to you.. keep walking. I’ve never had a child in jail, but I have one that is imprisoned inside of a shell of social paralysis. I have walked in the shoes of a parent that frets, because they can’t change their child’s circumstances. I can only imagine and empathize with parents whose children suffer from mental illness, drug addiction, domestic violence and similar issues. Societal ills. It’s a one size fits all shoe; anyone’s foot can fit it.

Every marriage I’ve ever observed has had to deal with three obstacles, even four: money, sex, communication boundaries with the opposite sex, and managing technology. Money is something everybody wants and everybody needs. Even when your take home is enough, you still need it to keep flowing. When you have $17 to your whole name until payday, you sho’ nuff need a positive increase in funds. Age, medicine, and stress screwing up your ability to screw? Dudes sliding in her social media inbox? He’s 2 am texting? But y’all just argue about the bills instead? Oh, wait โœ‹๐Ÿฝ You can’t relate? ๐Ÿค” Well, be sure to invest in an umbrella, because rain falls on everyone and floods are indiscriminate.

Just keep walking and you’ll end up in someone else’s shoes.
lies from the top to the bottom and from the bottom to the top. We all fall and we all get back up! That’s the good news๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿฝ My top may or may not be as a millionaire mogul, but I reach for the top of my own game. My race and reward does not have to match someone else’s. Each one will be raised up according to their own measure of success, but you can’t dismiss the commonness of the struggles that come with life.

The moral of the story is that my personal calamities are not unique. Problems are just like shoes at Payless. The same pairs, in every size, in several colors exists in every store. You bought them in black? Yeah, I’ve had them in brown and blue. And Sally Sue had ’em in red, but guess what? It’s the same damn shoe. ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ I’d love to tell you that eventually you will be able to stand in a custom pair of glass slippers. It’s possible. It’s not likely, but possible. Hardest part is that all shoes get outgrown or worn out. How many miles do you think you can walk in a glass slipper?

Advice: Don’t get so comfortable that you can’t handle when your feet slip into a new pair. An unfamiliar pair. The right pair for the terrain ahead.

I must always recognize the ebb and flow of my own life, so that I can have genuine empathy for the highs and lows of others. I’ve never been homeless on the street, but I know what it is to live under someone else’s roof. I equally know what it is to open my doors to others. I had a co-worker back in the day that bought me lunch every day until I got my first paycheck. I received a practical hand up that I never would have asked for. I’m the martyr type๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿฝ. Decades later, I still buy lunch for my new employees until they get their first check. My old friend taught me the importance of helping without making the person ask for what is blatantly obvious that they need. Dignity is an unfair price for a meal. Y’all know that first two weeks can feel like the brokest weeks of your life!

I’m just saying… keep walking…

Water your own grass

The grass is always greener on the other side, but if you take care of it, you can have green grass too!

There’s a logical reason behind my repulsion to romance novels and love drunk movies. It’s not that I don’t like a few sweet nothings, but love edited for entertainment creates disillusionments about the wonderful world of love and marriage.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. Blooming flowers get old and die too.

I don’t mind getting flowers on Valentine’s Day. I can’t say that I think they are the perfect token of love; nevertheless, they are easy for my husband to buy and giving them makes him happy. He personally delivers them to my office. When the other ladies see him walk in with bouquets as broad as his shoulders, they just gush (some figuratively; some literally). I squeal, “Oh Honeybun!! You’re so sweet!” He gushes. We give each other a quick kiss, he gets a little blood flow, and his Valentine mission is accomplished. He’s happy. I’m amused.

I know flowers are a one size fits all gift, which is why I don’t mind getting them. I love my Honeybun. I’m not here to make his love life super complicated. He picks what looks pretty to him, just like when he chose his wife ๐Ÿ™‹๐Ÿฝ. I keep them alive as long as I can so he gets his monies worth. That makes him happy too. When they get to where I have to throw them out, I tell him, “Oh Hun, I gotta let my flowers go.” ๐Ÿ˜” “Well they did good Bae. They lasted [insert number of days].” The longevity of his gesture becomes our aphrodisiac.

“Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.” ~Forrest Gump’s Momma I am partial to candy. I don’t like the big boxes though. I want the little $1 boxes. He knows this. We’ve discussed it. He can do flowers his way, but I run the candy game. Anyway, he brings me little boxes every few days during the 14 day romance window. I probably end up with about 20 boxes ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿฝ And I love it!! I lay across our bed, watch TV, and devour a box. I sit in my chair and read while scarfing down another box. I take a few to work, so I can dreamily chew on chocolate surprises throughout the day. I am happy. He’s amused.

It’s not about the candy. It’s about the “no judgement”. He is willing to fuel my fantasy of living the life of leisure that my little candy boxes represent. He see the delight on my face, so he doesn’t comment about how many empty boxes are on my nightstand. I get to not be giving, because I don’t share my sweet treats. Not even with my pretty little grandgirl. Nope and grandad can’t buy her any either. Oh, she’ll rat me out for sure, “But Granddad. Sweet’s not sharing.” He explains, “Those sweets are just for Sweet.” Chocolates from him belong to me. They’re my sweet nothings.

Character is what you display in front of people. Integrity is who you are when you think no one is looking.

He gases me up! Every Sunday! Without fail! ๐Ÿš—๐Ÿ’จ I get in my car on Monday morning feeling prepared for the week. Tank is full. Air pressure and fluids checked. โœ”๏ธ Dashboard Armouraled down. Any trash (water bottles, fast food bags) from the weekend has already been disposed of. Now that is enough to make me wanna roll over on himโค๏ธ I’m happy. He’s happy.

I will admit I gassed him up on the idea. We going for a ride one day and I suggested that he should gas up my car every Sunday. I told him other husbands may do it and I want it too. He looked at me and loving said, “Who the fuck we know that does that? Where did you get this idea from??” ๐Ÿคฃ then he laughed hysterically. I pouted and then cried (I’m menopausal; crying happens often). He stopped laughing. I admitted that no other wives I know get that. Maybe my granddaddy use to do it. I don’t know ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ but I want it. “Honey…You’re better than all the husbands we know. They know it. Even their wives think so. You can show other men the way. It might not be for everybody, but you can let it be for me.” He smiled. He’s done it for me ever since.

The grass is always greener on the other side, but if you take care of it, you can have green grass too!

These aren’t the things I read about or see in movies. They are not rose petals in the bath or riding butt naked on a filly. They are not grand. They are not expensive. They’re basic. That’s what makes them better than anything caught on film. They are the real wonderful world of love and marriage. โค๏ธโค๏ธ

I Can’t Eat Your Cake

I have a serious question. I sincerely need help understanding why I can’t have my cake and eat it too. What am I supposed to do with the cake? Just look at it? I’m inclined to think not.

Everyone has a different flavor palette, so maybe whoever thought of this saying didn’t like cake. That’s fine. I wholeheartedly believe that not everyone likes cake. Some people prefer cookies or pies. Even to those, I think my logic still applies. Why would I have what I desire and not want to consume it?

Could this “have your cake and eat it too” be an indictment of gluttonous behaviors? Gluttony is all about greed and over consumption. What if I only want to eat a reasonable share of my proverbial cake. Some of us may only like it by the sliver; whereas, others gorge on it by the pound. This spectrum of partaking in sinful delights shouldn’t ban the reasonable indulgences. Should it?

Maybe variety matters. Each kind of cake possesses it’s own unique blend of tastes and aromas that seduce the mind. Hey… which one did you just think about??? I swear I can almost smell a three layer chocolate on chocolate cake. Still warm. Freshly baked. *Sigh* Soooo why wouldn’t I want to eat that? Or a Sock-It-To-Me cake made in a bundt pan with a perfect cinnamon ribbon running through it. You smell that? Umm, cinnamon. If comfort had a flavor, it could be either of those for me.

If talking (actually typing) about cakes makes my olfactory senses leap for joy then why must I deprive my tongue such sweet savors. Two of my senses have already fallen victim; my hands and my mouth are sure to fulfill the desires of my eyes. Is that wrong?

Let’s just say for argument’s sake that it’s not someone else’s cake. It’s mine. All mine. I invested time, money, and lustful feelings into possessing it all for myself. I don’t think that I would do that if I had no intention of getting the most out of it. That was the whole point of making the cake. Pleasures. Indulgences.

I do understand that this “have your cake and eat it too” mantra conveys a sentiment against wanting more than your fair share. I realize that I cannot eat my cake, lick my fingers and then expect someone else to give me theirs. That would be unfair and inequitable. I must fully accept that when my cake is gone it is gone for good. I must consume it prudently. Whether I heed that advice or not is my choice. I alone will have to live with the consequences. These are the guidelines for being able to have it and then eat it. If I scarf mine down and then take yours that’s called greed. Double standards. Thievery.

It could be said that the reversal of the quote makes more sense. “You cannot eat your cake and still have it.” So, I can’t have it both ways. Either I will eat my cake or keep my cake. I cannot create a double standard by trying to eat it and keep it too. Again, that is unjust, because others comply with the moral code of adhering to social norms uniformly. I don’t get to be so special that I can devour my cake, regurgitate it, and then eat it again, because by all rules that’s gross. Barbaric. Animalistic.

I guess in the end, I can have my cake and eat it too. I simply have to be mindful of my consumption, because once it’s gone I cannot devise schemes to get more than my share. In other words, I can’t have my cake and eat yours too!

Yay!! My oven timer just went off!

Mr. Right can do no wrong

I’ve told this to a few people before and the more I say it the more I try to find the truth in it. I mean is this really a thing? Is it this simple. Mr. Wrong can never do right and Mr. Right can do no wrong.

Now I know that this seems clichรฉ, but so what. Even frivolous musings can have some wisdom in ’em. Don’t forget it can also apply to the Mrs. of the world. I just have zero interest in whether a woman can be right or wrong so I’ll just focus on the Mr.’s.

Mr. Wrong can never do right and Mr. Right can do no wrong. I feel like exhausting my thoughts behind this. I don’t know if I heard someone else say this first or if it’s my brain child; either way, I filed it away. It must speak to something or why else would I save it. I try to only retain needful things, because I don’t want to run out of memory when I really need it. But, I digress.

Ok soooo…Mr. Wrong can never do right. There’s a pretty simple logic to that. If you’ve ever been pursued by a very nice person that you had zero attraction to, nothing they did was enough to make you fall for them. As a matter of fact, it can stir up the feeling of agitation. I know for me it can trigger a fight or flight reaction. Neither is endearing.

Ok soooo… Why does Mr. Wrong make you want to punch him in the face for trying to touch your hand?? Maybe that’s too strong of a reaction. How about when he tries to lean in to kiss you and you get the heebie geebies (is that how you spell that? Hmm) Anyway, there seems to be a chemical reaction that almost repels you away.

But then I think about maybe Mr. Wrong just can’t do right right now but later he could be all right. It’s just that right now the timing is all wrong so it puts him in a space that’s awkward. Out of sync. Like he could be Mr. Right six months down the road, if he wasn’t so darn wrong right now.

Here’s another thought, maybe he has all the makings of Mr. Right, but you’re so screwed up in your head with unrealistic fantasies that you confuse right for wrong. Just suspicious lol. He brings flowers and you’re like “He must think I’m stupid! Being all nice so I can trust him. No way Buddy!” Checking off boxes of what’s wrong. You can’t even recognize right anymore. He tries to open the door for you and you retort, “Ugh, you just wanna look at my booty. Men are nasty.”. Please know that I am fully aware that this explanation could never belong to anyone reading my blog. Yet, this does remind me of the whole “hurt people hurt people” thing. Whatever, I digress.

I’ve had Mr. Right and even when he was wrong he was so right in his wrongness that all wrong seemed all right. Whew. Seriously though. He can arrive late with no flowers and you’re just like “oh well, you’re here now”. He can smell like a freaking grease monkey and you’re still gushing. “Oh how I love a handy man!”

What makes his wrong so right? He’s not the only guy with beautiful eyes and a jolly laugh. Other guys may not be able to change your breaks, but they’ll smell good and show up on time. He can’t do wrong because all wrongs are nullified by the rightness of his ability to just feel right. All the time. Right? *sigh*

I think I might have married Mr. Right who lives inside of Mr. Wrong or Mr. Wrong who cleverly hid inside of Mr. Right. That is my conundrum. He baffles me almost everyday. He’s right in the morning, wrong during the day, and right at bedtime. It’s like a right wrong roller coaster. How can I adore him and want to punch him in the face at the same time just because he brought me ice cream that I didn’t ask for??? Now I do not condone violence, but geez Louise! I really don’t think there’s a wife out there that hasn’t slapped the shit out of her husband in her mind. Similarly, I’ve caught him looking at me in a way that screamed, “Biiittccchhh!” Needless to say, he was wrong for being right. But we don’t slap or call names. Sorry… I digress.

I think my thoughts on this have been exhausted.