Such nonsense…

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It’s Saturday again, best day of the week except for Sunday. Cool, sunny, messy bed, everything the way we left it last night. In a word perfect. After an early breakfast Kim rode his bike to PickleBall, came back to get his truck, went to the nursery in NoLaw for bedding plants, now he’s home playing guitar.

In case you’re curious as to the whereabouts of our narrator while all this was going on, she’s been at her computer trying to figure out where sadness comes from. I mean, with life staying basically beautiful day after day, why sadz?

I saw a picture a friend posted today of a gorgeous ginger biddy hen on the porch of a weathered old house and the tears started. What’s up with that? Maybe partly the memories of a one-time farm-girl-farm-wife, turning maudlin old biddy hen herself, but I’m curious about what else tripped the melancholy since it happens fairly often lately.

There are days when the smallest trigger reduces me to ruins, and others when everything, no matter how heavy, leaves me cold. Should I seek counseling yet? Disclaimer: It might be a waste – I just might not do a thing they told me, out of stubbornness.

I could sit here all day on a truly perfect April Saturday with tears running down my cheeks and no real idea why they’re there. But being a sensible person at heart (is that an oxymoron, I wonder?) the thing to do … since it’s after 1pm … is probably … to get in the shower and clean up my act.

Because … a totally not-sad part of the day is still out there, guaranteed, and I know that she who snoozes … loozes. Crying itself can be a form of losing and it isn’t a good look for maudlin old biddies, at any rate.

Have a sweet weekend, boys and girls, and if the tears fall, don’t ask too many hard questions of them. Let them do their work, sit still in whatever quiet is available to you, enjoy the sunshine if it blesses you, it’s a pretty good world if we stay willing to connect with it. 💋

Photo Belongs to The Root Connection

 

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The joys of fiscal restraint…

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We celebrated a milestone last month with the sale of our townhouse that had been on the market for almost five years – a little too much house for the location but it served us well for twice that long, so no regrets. Now that the Beloved Albatross is no longer our baby, the Wish List is a thing again, topped by MATTRESS – the 15-yr-old king-size pillow-top behemoth with the crime scene outlines where the bodies were. The one with three possible places to stretch out – left, right, or the crest in the middle, provided you weren’t a restless sleeper.

Armed with a recommendation from friends, we walked all innocent-like, our actual faces hanging out, into a mattress store, assuming we knew what we were doing – how hard is it to buy a mattress, right? You know how you think your friends’ kids that you never see are still wee toddlers? Same with the realm of the boudoir, who knew? A mattress is not just a mattress anymore. They still consist of a horizontal surface that fits into some sort of frame if you so desire, but that’s where the similarity to the familiar ends. The operative word now is foam and lots of it. Remember Serta? They’re still in the biz, but now you also see names like Casper, Puffy, Purple, Leesa, Ghost Bed, Nectar, Helix, and such.

After a quick education and an aha moment or two, the indented version was on its way to that great mattress paradise in the sky and we now have a new iteration that looks basically like a serene slab of cement but which welcomes my screaming bundle of cells after dark and puts me out of my misery without a struggle. I’m not sure what I did to deserve such a gift, but experience has shown me that Karma is a meticulous bookkeeper so I don’t ask too many questions. Even with the swanky always-cool pillows, we came in grossly under budget and my girl-type readers know what THAT means. Riiiight – we get to add to the list.

So far we’ve checked off three biggish-ticket items that have been hanging fire for the past five years or so, all at an unexpected discount, so maybe we’re kinda good at this. Bodes well for more fun in the future when we most need it. And we KNOW we’re going to need it.

 

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Spring and its whims…

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Feels like a Windsday – already 70º at 8am and too breezy for comfort on my 4th-floor balcony. It’s overcast again too, for the whateverth day in a row. There’s talk of rain by late afternoon, in which case all would be forgiven, otherwise I’m in the mood for sunshine.

Our East Lawrence neighborhood is leafing out, bit by bit, once again obscuring the houses and buildings from view. I should know what these two little trees are, on the corner of our parking – I just know their pink delicacy makes me happy every spring.

And now it’s nearly noon, Kim is home from the PickleBall wars, it’s time for sustenance, and the sun is shining. Since there’s nothing left to whine about I’ll take my leave, wishing you a beautiful spring day. Make it count – it could snow tomorrow.

P.S. It did.

 

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The nature of things…

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Random reflections while I watch huge snowflakes swirl outside my windows on April 8th, twenty days into spring:

  • Cold feels colder after ten days in tropical warmth.
  • There’s something deeply satisfying about opening WordPress after a break, finding sixty spam messages trapped by Akismet, and dumping them en masse. {shiver of delight}
  • After several days in the metro Atlanta area, one of America’s supreme melting pots, the Central Florida Gulf Coast was striking in its lack of diversity. Must find out why. It was disconcerting to see only white faces everywhere.
  • Vacations are about food, but my appetite took a hike the day we left here and I ended up losing 2 lbs. Now that we’re home it’s back with a bullet, of course. Isn’t life hilarious.
  • Today is for recuperating from all that fun – tomorrow is for hitting the list and becoming productive again. It has to happen.
  • The weather will eventually get warm and stay that way. Right?
  • That’s enough thinking – it’s taken me all day to get this far…

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