I’m having a hard time letting go of the Olympics. I can not stop fathoming the level of commitment, drive and passion it takes to, for example, careen yourself down a frozen track on a sled, head first, at speeds of 140+ km/h with no steering or brakes in order to beat the other crazy, errrr, passionate athlete by mere fractions of a second.
It gets me thinking about my own passions. On a good day, I would tell you about my passion for my kids, for writing, for travel.
Today is not a good day.
My three-year old is whiny and slammed a door in my face while my baby is on poopy diaper #4. Forgive me for not feeling the passion.
If I do not write, I do not feel sane. Writer’s block (aka- too much good TV on) has invaded so forgive me for not being sane.
Travelling has been a passion for years though currently I am attempting to marry single backpacking me with 5 star resort Tour Guide me with Mamma me. Annoyingly, this equation totals Super 8 motel with two double beds, hubby and I each with a child getting a fraction of allotted bed space resulting in a fraction of required sleep. Not feeling the love here either.
So today, the only passion I feel passionate about is for peanut butter. Yes, peanut butter. Not the All Natural stuff either. The creamy goodness laced with saturated fat that I spread lovingly on my toast every single morning. Now that is commitment. Sometimes too for lunch, or a Thai peanut curry at dinner. And definitely with chocolate. Which I then pair with wine. Hey, I’m no sommelier but I’m telling you, PB and wine, pure decadence!
My passion does not bring me gold medals or lofty rewards (unless you count my hips), but it does bring me joy and hey, that is all any real passion should do.
My ponderings about the Olympics and the passion and dedication required coincided with Mabel’s Labels contest about what you would want to tell the blogosphere about your own passions before the internet was to be wiped out forever. This is my resulting post.