Plano Profile March 2010 : Page 95
my drift Sit, life. Stay. T HE SETTING was a cocktail party, which might explain my friend’s fractured cliché. Having recent- ly quit a job that had long been a source of frustration, she was enthused about starting a new one on Monday. “I have a new leash on life,” she declared happily as she took another sip of her martini. The idea of leading one’s life around on a leash struck those of us who were listening as ex- tremely funny, and we enjoyed one of those delightful episodes of back-slapping laughter that eventually makes your face hurt. The woman, who was also in the process of moving, kept us amused the fol- lowing week with her Facebook post: “C’mon, life. Let’s go find a new house.” The term “a new lease on life” was first used in 1809 by Sir Walter Scott in a letter he wrote about a sick friend who appeared to be improving. “My friend,” he noted, “has since taken out a new lease of life and may live as long as I shall.” By the mid-19th century, the phrase had come to mean any kind of fresh start. Reflection has led me to conclude that “a new leash on life” is, in fact, superior to the original expression and worthy of being incorporated into our language. In addition to indicating a fresh start, it speaks of reclaiming authority and regaining power. Who among us hasn’t experienced the need to get our out-of-control life back onto the leash and make it heel? My now-departed Shih Tzu was the textbook illustration of the critical necessity of leashes. Mah Li was absolutely bursting with life, and if you didn’t restrain her, you were asking for trouble. I used to let her walk to the mailbox with me if nobody was around, which worked well until the day the next-door neighbor arrived home during our outing. Mah Li, always enticed by the prospect of a new friend, took off before I could grab her and jumped into the car of the woman who had brought my neighbor home. If you’ve ever been around a Shih Tzu, you know what the fluffy little things do when they get excited. That’s what my dog proceeded to do, all over the seat of my neighbor’s friend’s car. Never before or since have I felt mortification quite so absolute. It wasn’t Mah Li’s fault, of course; she was just being a dog. No, I was the one who was completely to blame. It was my responsibility to keep my dog on a leash, and if I had seen to my responsibility I wouldn’t have had to clean that poor woman’s car seat, spouting apologies all the while. In much the same way, we’re all duty-bound to keep our lives leashed so they don’t get out of control and cause embarrassing situations. My leash stays securely hooked to my life’s collar most of the time, but I have to admit to occasional failures to abide by the leash laws. U sually when my life gets unleashed you can bet chips, salsa and margaritas are involved. Sometimes, though, it’s about more serious is- sues. We all know that we can never find happiness by focusing on it, and that true joy is only found in placing the happiness of others ahead of our own. To know it isn’t necessarily to practice it, though. Unleashed, my life tends to run straight into the oncoming traffic of self-involvement. More than once I’ve experienced a close call before get- ting it back in check. So a new leash on life seems like a grand idea. I’m seriously considering a trip to the pet supply store to get one. A rhinestone-studded one might be fun. Or perhaps I should go with classy…maybe Louis Vuitton, or even Hermès. C’mon, life. Let’s go shopping. ■ MARCH 2010 PLANO PROFILE 95 PATSY MORRISS
My Drift
Patsy Morriss
The setting Was a cocktail party, which might explain my friend’s fractured cliché. Having recently quit a job that had long been A source of frustration, she was enthused about starting a new one on Monday.
“I have a new leash on life,” she declared happily as she took another sip of her martini.
The idea of leading one’s life around on a leash struck those of us who were listening as extremely funny, and we enjoyed one of those delightful episodes of back-slapping laughter that eventually makes your face hurt. The woman, who was also in the process of moving, kept us amused the following week with her Facebook post: “C’mon, life. Let’s go find a new house.” The term “a new lease on life” was first used in 1809 by Sir Walter Scott in a letter he wrote about a sick friend who appeared to be improving. “My friend,” he noted, “has since taken out a new lease of life and may live as long as I shall.” By the mid-19th century, the phrase had come to mean any kind of fresh start.
Reflection has led me to conclude that “a new leash on life” is, in fact, superior to the original expression and worthy of being incorporated into our language. In addition to indicating a fresh start, it speaks of reclaiming authority and regaining power. Who among us hasn’t experienced the need to get our out-of-control life back onto the leash and make it heel?
My now-departed Shih Tzu was the textbook illustration of the critical necessity of leashes. Mah Li was absolutely bursting with life, and if you didn’t restrain her, you were asking for trouble. I used to let her walk to the mailbox with me if nobody was around, which worked well until the day the next-door neighbor arrived home during our outing. Mah Li, always enticed by the prospect of a new friend, took off before I could grab her and jumped into the car of the woman who had brought my neighbor home.
If you’ve ever been around a Shih Tzu, you know what the fluffy little things do when they get excited. That’s what my dog proceeded to do, all over the seat of my neighbor’s friend’s car. Never before or since have I felt mortification quite so absolute.
It wasn’t Mah Li’s fault, of course; she was just being a dog. No, I was the one who was completely to blame. It was my responsibility to keep my dog on a leash, and if I had seen to my responsibility I wouldn’t have had to clean that poor woman’s car seat, spouting apologies all the while.
In much the same way, we’re all duty-bound to keep our lives leashed so they don’t get out of control and cause embarrassing situations. My leash stays securely hooked to my life’s collar most of the time, but I have to admit to occasional failures to abide by the leash laws.
Usually when my life gets unleashed you can bet chips, salsa and margaritas are involved.
Sometimes, though, it’s about more serious issues.
We all know that we can never find happiness by focusing on it, and that true joy is only found in placing the happiness of others ahead of our own. To know it isn’t necessarily to practice it, though. Unleashed, my life tends to run straight into the oncoming traffic of self-involvement.
More than once I’ve experienced a close call before getting it back in check.
So a new leash on life seems like a grand idea. I’m seriously considering a trip to the pet supply store to get one. A rhinestone-studded one might be fun. Or perhaps I should go with classy…maybe Louis Vuitton, or even Hermès.
C’mon, life. Let’s go shopping.
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