If the song from the 1988 Kit Kat commercial isn’t running through your head after reading this blog title, click on the picture below and it will be.
I took a much needed break last night and read a novel until way past my bed time (which isn’t as late as it used to be).
Being a compulsive, all-or-nothing person, I run as hard and fast as I can. When I get tired, I want to quit.
Never to do the thing again.
Last night I felt that way about this blog. Life has worn me out. But I took a break and here’s a blog about breaks. . . Because that’s how my mind works.
Some things have their own natural breaks, like school and novel writing. Other things go on and on. I have to be smart enough to rest when I need it.
Last summer my husband, my daughter, and I hiked Grays and Torreys Peaks. Two fourteers in one day (fourteen thousand foot mountains, for you non-Coloradans). Ambitious, but doeable.
After two hours of hiking uphill, we could see both peaks. So far away. The people on top were smaller than ants. On some fourteeners, I can’t see how far away the peak is and imagine it is around the next corner, pushing through until I get there. Not Grays and Torreys. We hadn’t even begun the ascent.
I stood up and walked a little farther. Each time I got jello legs, I stopped. I sucked in air and the oxygen made its way to my leg muscles and did whatever it does there. And eventually, I reached the top of both peaks.
I’ll admit to waiting at the trail head for my husband and daughter to fetch the car afterward. But I climbed both peaks.
My daughter understands the value of a break.
On her wedding day, we took outdoor pictures before the ceremony. Then she slipped into the bride’s room while the guests arrived.
Good thing it was only a break. The groom would have been disappointed if she’d decided she was too tired to go on.
As for me, in the chaos of transition – moving, weddings, writing, and etc. I’ll try to remember to take a break when I need it, the theme song to the Kit Kat commercial playing in my head all the while.
Read that novel all night.
Watch stand-up comedy instead of mowing the lawn.
Binge watch a new favorite series.
Never give up. Never surrender. But take breaks as needed.
I filed taxes last year and tax day is almost here again. It’s like the government wants me to pay taxes every year or something.
I was reading a book about the history of the Santa Fe Trail. It said that the Spanish treasury was so broke that people were required to pay taxes on their taxes.
Obvously, her co-worker read the same book about the history of the Santa Fe Trail. Because, I can’t be that out of touch.
I recently learned that there is such a thing as a hobby income tax.
I tried to research the origin, but it wasn’t readily available on Google.
So, I made up my own story.
Someone, like my daughter and her friends, made jewelry to sell at a craft fair.
At the end of the day, they took home $500 and gave themselves a big high five, or fist bump, or whatever.
And, the government created forms to report the income.
Someone like my daughter received the form in the mail to report and pay taxes on this money.
After following the instructions, the person showed a loss of $1,500, which actually lowered their tax burden. Cha Ching!
So they created the hobby tax rules.
All of this paperwork and drama for the same tax result as if the government had stayed out of the way in the first place.
My husband says hobby. I say business. The government has a handy lists of questions to make the determination, although it is subject to interpretation – like everything else in the tax code.
Will any of this stop crafters from making jewelry or writers from writing?
As for me, I hope to avoid an audit. But if get audited, I can always use the experience in a story. Would the audit then become a business expense? Or a hobby expense?
A coffee mug is a business expense. Right?
Spring has sprung and flowers are blooming. Everyone who knows me sends pictures of purple flowers. Text messages, Snapchats, Pinterest messages, all with purple flowers. They make me smile.
People send me pictures of llamas and llama themed gifts. For Christmas, my daughter gave me a llama coffee mug. Super cute, but my husband thinks I’ll poke an eye out.
In a perfect world, llamas would be purple, like the purple cow, immortalized in the poem by Gelett Burgess.
I’ve always loved purple. Growing up as the oldest girl, I got to chose the clothes that my sisters would later wear. I chose purple. My younger sister grew to hate the color. I doubt she has any purple in her wardrobe today.
As a gift, my mother gave us a purple bedroom. Curtains, bed-spreads, and accessories. She used my favorite thing to show love.
It’s important to have a favorite thing. Without it, how would anyone know what to buy me as a gift? My future daughter-in-law quickly figured out that purple things and llamas make me smile. It doesn’t matter if I saw the same cute llama picture last month. Seeing it again can brighten my day.
When my husband selected flowers for his father’s funeral and had no way to choose, he selected a purple arrangement. At least one person (me) would like it. Turns out his sister likes purple too.
One of my sisters loves snowmen. She has more than anyone needs, but at Christmas I buy her another one anyway. Thankfully, as her home filled with snowmen, she decided to collect giraffes, too. Now I buy her giraffe blankets, purses, and statues at every opportunity.
My daughter and her husband are musicians. And, you guessed it. Any gift item, statue, ornament, or picture with music notes or instruments is fair game. Their house will be full of musical paraphernalia, and it will reflect their tastes.
I don’t know about my son. His favorite color is orange.
Seriously? Orange? How did that happen?
As his fiancé planned to replace his worn-out couch, I said, “It could be worse. He could have a brand-new couch and it would be orange.” Perhaps he is secretly a child of the seventies.
He won’t be allowed to select furnishings for their new home. But he will wear the occasional orange T-shirt or Polo.
My point is that it is important to have a few favorite things. Butterflies, puppies, collectable plates, . . . whatever. Tell your friends and loved ones so they can brighten your day.
And if you see a purple llama, send it my way.