I am so tired of headlines that tell me that yet another flock of little children have been frightened, hurt, killed. Little ones my Zilla’s age…
I used to think my Grandmother and my Mother were both more than a little cracked when things like this would worry them, keep them awake nights.
Starting to understand.
I already walk down the hall about a hundred times a night to check on her. Tonight, I might just sit there and look at her…because I just can’t stop thinking about the mothers in Oklahoma who don’t know where their babies are tonight.
Going to the supermarket without a specific plan is a dangerous game.
Things like this happen…
“First of the Season!” That’s what the sign said. Who could resist? It was impossible. Reading parts of Thoreau’s Walden today (a longtime favorite), I got to thinking that he really got it right – simplicity is the way to go. I decided I would spend some time this week paying particular attention to the simple things in my life that bring me joy.
I love quotes. I love words in general, but quotes are the best.
When I was a kid, I read every single “Quotable Quotes” section in the Readers Digest every single month. Loved them.
I still love quotes. They are like snack-sized bites of wisdom. Need a quick fix? Have one. Need more? Keep going until you’ve had your fill.
I will often grab a quote that crosses my path at just the right moment and stick it on a Post-It somewhere obvious – or on Pinterest, of course. When I write a letter or a card, I often look for just the right quote to include for the recipient for that particular occasion.
Given the opportunity to consider some of my favorites, I submit the following:
He is, in all fairness, really pretty willing to clean up the kitchen after I cook and he rarely complains. But pots are his nemesis. Particularly, pots with anything stuck, splattered, or burnt on them.
My Mom always says, “Half of being smart is knowing what you’re dumb at.”
And the older I get, the smarter Mom gets, of course. Maybe it’s just that as we mature, we realize that our parents actually do know what they’re talking about. They do have all that experience they lay claim to and they actually have learned from it. Perhaps it is that as we mature, we realize that we don’t actually know as much as our younger selves believed. Maybe it’s a combination. If what Mom said is true, maybe as we grow, we are smart enough to realize that we simply don’t know it all. Nor should we.
I have not left the country, joined the French Foreign Legion, won the lottery, or found a vacancy in a colony on the moon. Kinda feels like it, though. I’ve been feeling a bit like Dorothy, whirling about in the cyclone of life.
Ever have one of those days where all you can think about is how much you aren’t getting done? One of those days where despite all valiant efforts, the pile doesn’t shrink and after a full day of working you somehow have practically nothing to show for it?
It wasn’t that it was horrible. In fact, it was quite good.
Roast beef cooked all day in the slow cooker until it fell apart with just a touch of the fork. Fluffy mashed potatoes with real butter and real milk whipped up just so with the electric mixer. Sweet corn with just a touch of butter. Homemade pan gravy from the meat juices. Good old-fashioned Sunday dinner. Perfect.