My Love Affair with Peeps – Not the Real Ones

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

A rainbow-colored, Texas-size peep. Can it get any better than that?

I love peeps, but let me clarify.  I’m talking about the sugary, marshmellowy goo shaped like a bunny rabbit, sometimes like chicks, that hop on the shelves in abundance this time of year.  I clarify because the older I get, peeps, real peeps, as in people en masse on the daily, not lovin’ that so much.

Used to be I would relish the thought of a day to myself, one single day when I wouldn’t have to necessarily be around anyone, talk to anyone, essentially deal with anyone.  Of course, those rare occasions didn’t actually happen until my babies were either on trips in middle or high school – at the same time – or off in college.  At best, I could navigate one lone day of solitude due to managing my madness:  running a business, managing a household, taking care of the puppers, tending to Mr. Kaminski and such.  But oh, that one, single day was a joyous occasion for me – and I would be right by myself lovin’ every minute of it.

Now that single day of solitude has evolved – expanded even – as I sincerely covet, which I realize coveting is one of them seven deadlies, extended time alone.  Sometimes I just need a minute.  And honestly, I’m never really alone.  There are multiple people living in my head who are entertaining and somewhat profound. I confess I do have a couple of friends who have two letters in front of their names – a D and a R – who get upset with me when I say that, but it’s true.  There’s a lot going in my little brain, and I am more than capable of entertaining myself with my cerebral creativity.  Of course, they also get mad at me for using the “c” word, and it’s not what you think.  It starts with “c” and ends with “y” and rhymes with hazy.  And I’m a little bit of that definition as well.  I embrace my issues.

I think all women appreciate a little time alone, but I can honestly say, I can hole up for several days by my lonesome, a week plus at this point in my life, and be just fine.  It’s not one of Mr. Kaminski’s favorite things about me.  His definition of being alone is he and I somewhere by ourselves.  Yes, one plus one equals two, and two is not alone.  I’ve tried.  He still doesn’t get it.

Not everybody gets me, but having lunch with a girlfriend last week, I found a kindred spirit.  In an intimate conversation, she shared that one of her pastimes is to research 5-star resorts and spas.  I thought that was amazing as she shared some phenomenal locales that I had never heard of.  She went on to explain that she dreamed about going to these desirous destinations to get pampered and experience all that they have to offer by herself – no husband, no children, no family, no girlfriends.  By herself!  I nearly fell out of my chair!

My emotions were running high as I fought back tears of joy.  I knew I had found my soulmate.  In fact, I’m relatively certain we were twins separated at birth.  This is something I would totally do – and thoroughly enjoy.  And most of my people would look at me like I had lost my every-lovin’ mind, which is entirely debatable on any given day, but that’s another subject entirely.

I’ve decided that being with me, myself and I, truly feeds my spirit.  It’s what makes me, me, and it goes a long way toward making me more much precious to be around on the daily.  Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good party, great times with friends and fam and especially one on one time with my peeps, but I also realize my limitations.  I have no tolerance for BS, trifling matters or unkind acts or individuals.  I’m not certain that me time helps with intolerance for such as that, but it certainly can’t hurt.

Happy Easter as we celebrate the Super Bowl of Salvation.  I wish you a most blessed time with your peeps.  See y’all next week – on the porch!


Patti Parish-Kaminski

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