Today I learned more about Envy.

Envy is: A feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualitielse's, or luck.

Envy is a funny little beast.
I imagine Envy as a bug-eyed pug dressed in a pug tuxedo at a fancy party, trying to appear taller and more classy by standing on his hind legs, but his little wiener is hanging out, so that’s awkward. He’s attempting to balance a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of wine in one paw while gesturing, making a point with the other, and attempting to breathe.

This hors d’oeuvres/wine situation doesn’t work with thumbs, so you can imagine the consternation of our fastidious little friend.
Oh, and a foot race has just been announced.
The other party guests are Greyhounds, whose wieners are not hanging out.

Envy is late to the party.
Envy is too short to ride any of the rides.
Envy is frustrated much of the time.

As I am a human, Envy has been my companion to many parties, especially when I was younger and hadn’t learned yet that having “things” did not make one happy or whole.
I envied kids at school who had cars and designer jeans.
I envied the kids in college who partied all semester and did not get a letter of probation mailed to their parents (who me?!).
I envied the young adults who had some life plan upon graduation and weren't drifting off into the abyss with a vague sense of foreboding.

As a 38-year-old (I’m sorry, the joke will never get old (I’m 48) IYKYK), I’ve mostly grown out of Envy.
I’ve lived and experienced enough to know that the things I was envious of were generally not worth my time or Envy.

Although recently, I’ve noticed Envy creeping in like a spam text message in the middle of the night.
Silent but annoying.

I follow a sidewalk-chalk artist, David Zinn, who sees things in cracked cement. He sees delightful characters doing the most fantastical and marvelous things.

When I see David’s work as I’m scrolling through my evening, Envy sees it too.
Envy sits on my shoulder, wiener out, whispering, “I bet you wish you had that skill.” and then gives my ear a little flick.
"You could never do that. You aren’t that creative or imaginative.” This second whisper is by Envy’s second cousin, once removed, Not Good Enough - from the bulldog side of the family.
These two cousins travel well together, constantly egging each other on, wearing entirely too much leather and Axe Body Spray, picking fights in convenience store parking lots, shoplifting beer, and getting stoned after Thanksgiving in Grandma’s gardening shed.

But recently, I had an aha moment.
A glimmer of self-awareness that was not contaminated by pug breath or body spray.

Resting in the garage after a full day in my studio, my feet up, the doors flung open on a beautifully mild summer day, a light breeze playing through the trees. Roxy sprawled in the grass, soaking up every ray. Scrolling Instagram. I saw a post by David.
I stopped marveling, delighted, and simultaneously feeling the tug of Envy.
I looked over and saw the giant bucket of sidewalk chalk we keep on hand for the neighborhood kids.

And I thought to myself - I’ve never tried.

I’VE NEVER TRIED!!!!!

I have spent countless hours sitting with Envy and Not Good Enough, allowing them to tease me, flick my ears, and do all the things that older cousins who needed a shower six days ago do - without even trying to be good at sidewalk chalk.

So, I tried.

And you know what?!

Working on hot cement, hunched over, crab walking around on 48-year-old knees is not that fun.

I made pretty flowers and enjoyed the difference from working with wax. I’ve 100% been shopping on Amazon for more vibrant chalk, but it’s not a skill I will likely take to the next level.

Like most things Envy sees, it’s not worth my time to be envious of.
But I learned a valuable lesson by looking these flatulent bug-eyed cousins in the eye.
-Instead of avoiding the things I’m envious of, I should try them and see where they land.

What did you learn today?
Was it that pugs wear tuxedos?
Or was it that you strongly dislike the word wiener?