It’s ten in the evening, and Bonnie and I are driving back from Nashville. Well, she’s driving, I’m riding. We got a slow start this afternoon, largely because I wanted to stop downtown and get my picture taken by the famous angel-wings mural, then stop again at McKay’s, a warehouse-sized bookstore outside of town. So we’re just now coming into Little Rock, which means we should be home close to midnight. And whereas I’m wired with coffee and could blog when I get home, I have to be up early tomorrow, so I’m trying to knock this out now.

When Bonnie and got downtown today, there was a long line of people waiting to have their pictures taken with the mural. So we waited. Here’s a picture of the whole sitch. (That means situation, Mom.)

While waiting in line, I was sort of eavesdropping on the people around us, sort of checking myself out in the shop windows, trying out poses for the angel wings–arms spread out like I’m flying, hands on hips like a sorority girl, legs crossed like I don’t give a fuck–you know, possibilities. This went on for a while, everyone talking–Oh my god, it was so nice to meet you!–then Bonnie and I rounded a corner and saw a Rolling Stones lips-and-tongue sculpture like the one we saw a couple days ago. (It must be a thing.) Well, since I’d naughtily sat on the first tongue, I immediately thought, I’ve GOT to sit on this one. I could start a–what’s the word?–tradition.

Ooh-la-la.

So I casually inch closer to this big pair of lips, while Bonnie’s getting the camera out and scooting closer to me in order to crop out the other people who are standing around and not taking advantage of such a great photo opportunity. Then I quietly put my hands on my knees and push my butt toward the giant tongue, like I might for a spanking. (Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not into spankings.) Y’all, up until now, everyone is yak-yak-yaking. But as soon as my butt touches that tongue, everyone shuts up. Then I open my mouth, like “oh my gosh,” or “my, that feels nice,” Bonnie takes the picture, and everyone starts talking again. Later Bonnie said, “You effectively silenced the whole crowd.” Mission accomplished.

Look at the top of the blog for this morning’s photo, below for the one that “started it all.”

The drive home has gone well. I read for a while, first in a book about stand-up comedy (which I finished), then in a book about writing (which I just picked up today at McKay’s). Then it got dark, and Bonnie and I listened to a podcast called Really Dirty Words, about–you guessed it–really dirty words and their histories. I realize this might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it was right up my alley. Today Bonnie and I Iearned about the origins of the c-word and the other f-word, one a derogatory term for women, the other a derogatory term for homosexuals. Both have fascinating stories, like the fact that the c-word was once associated with status, power, and influence, and the fact that the other f-word is now being “taken back” by many in the gay community. (You can’t insult me with a name I call myself). My big takeaway was that what’s unacceptable in speech to one person is often more-than-acceptable to another and that intent can make a big difference.

Here’s something I forgot to mention yesterday. A couple nights ago, we all went out for Bonnie’s birthday. First, we ate at a rooftop bar (very cool, very Nashville), then we went to see a 90s cover band. Y’all, talk about a retro-fabulous time. These guys sang the music I grew up on. I sent my sister a video of the group singing “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls” by TLC, and she replied, “Fun. Also–because we old.” So that felt good. Anyway, in between the rooftop bar and the concert, our group piled onto an elevator with a couple strangers, and I pulled out my camera and said, “Elevator selfie! Everyone in who wants in.”

And just like that, we all crammed together, and it was this beautiful, exciting moment–so exciting I cut half my own face out of the picture. But it was SO MUCH MORE FUN than your normal elevator ride. One of the strangers even asked if I could text her the photo, and I hope even now she’s showing her friends, saying, “You won’t believe what happened to us the other day on an elevator.”

Today while waiting in line with Bonnie, we noticed that almost everyone was doing THE SAME THING at the angel-wing mural. They just stood there and smiled. But once I heard a magician say that if you want to reconnect with wonder and awe, which you only find in the present moment, you have to break up your routines. You have to do something unexpected. For me, this looks like squatting in front of a mural instead of standing, or sticking my rear-end on a humongous tongue, or taking an elevator selfie with strangers. Granted, these are small acts, but this life-long planner is finding that there’s often more joy to be found in small acts of the spontaneous than in big acts of the perfunctory. I’m trying to remember this, that any mundane thing–an elevator ride!–can be turned into something joyous, that “really dirty words” and even life itself aren’t inherently good or bad or boring or fun, that these are things we decide–we decide–in each present moment.