Monday Dare: To live and die in L.A.

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Call a truce with nature

How does that one saying go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. You don’t have to correct me if I got the wording wrong. The adage doesn’t even apply here except that it uses the word “enemy” twice. I wanted to talk to you about nature and The Great Outdoors, but my ability to form coherent sentences was derailed by visions of the word “horrible” and “enemy,” and then that saying rolled through my head.

I live in L.A. I hate being outdoors. Maybe those two sentences don’t make much sense together, but for me, they are inextricably linked. One of the comments I always hear is, “You’re so lucky to have such nice weather year round! I’d be outside all day, everyday!”

Well, good for you, Nature Lover. I suspect these are also the same people who sit on the veranda with a piping hot cup of coffee and a flaky croissant watching the sun rise with a long sigh of contentment before their weekly REI trip to buy canoe paddles and shit. I hate stepping foot outside of my house.

Even though nature makes me feel hater-y, I give it an honest chance from time to time.

Over the weekend, my family and I walked a mile to the farmers market. Along the way, we passed some fucking bushes and fucking grass and fucking trees and fucking insects and fucking people walking their fucking dogs. I think an industrious family of gnats made a new home for themselves in the dark comfort of my left ear canal. I asked Harv to check, but he said I was just imagining things before shaking his head and mumbling, “Get it together, Elizabeth, get it together.” Why is my family so unsupportive?

When we finally got to the market, my face was wet with sweat and despair and I thought to myself, “It’s over. I want my life back.”

Have you ever been to a farmers market? That shit is OUTDOORS, friends. I was surrounded by a sea of people dressed like they had just climbed Mt. Whitney and then cooled down with a 90-minute stretch session by the ocean because “physical activity is invigorating.” And here they were, with their reusable earth-friendly tote bags, ready to buy organically-grown cucumbers and kale for their dinner (again on that goddamn veranda). People were laughing and holding hands and having a great time in Mother Nature’s glory.

I decided to play along in the sick charade and sampled locally-sourced cheese and tapped some melons. Every fold of my body was sweaty and sticky and I felt like maybe I should do some drugs to take away the misery, but still, I just kept smiling and asking how much the chrysanthemums cost.

I’m not calling a truce with Mother Nature because I like that bitch. I want to make peace with her because my family loves being outside, and I love my family, so I’m going to make an effort to spend more time outdoors this week. Man, that family of mine, won’t even check my ears, but I can’t quit them.

Are you outdoorsy? Indoorsy? What the hell is there to do outside?

P.S. Perhaps you like funny pictures and thug life thoughts and other original content not seen on this blog. Then may I suggest we get connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page? I promise not to disappoint you. Probably.
image via pinterest

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