I Wish It Were a Sunday

There are days when you wake up and it feels like a Monday and you think, "wow, it's Monday" (because you are brilliant). There are days when you try to be optimistic and small inconsequential things happen in sequence which push you over the ledge to having perhaps one too many glasses of reading water in the evening. On this given Monday, you may also have been described as "grumpy" by anyone really willing to get near you and be honest with you. As the day winds down, you find a moment of quiet reflection, you read your email, and discover that one of your favorite GBC members has sent you a link to a mobile which she thinks you will love, and you in fact, do. So, you shed a briny tear because you are an emotional creature, and you remember that Mondays pass.

Gallon of Milk, Loaf of Bread and a Stick of Butter

I have been in a list frame of mind the last few days: grocery list, to-do list, recipe lists and music playlists. Perhaps it is my subconscious attempt to create order in the chaos of post-holiday, gearing up for a busy month ahead, last pause before the week ahead at work. Nah, too deep, and who explores their subconscious during holiday season? That would be just crazy talk.

I have always liked lists and have a small collection of other people's lists rescued from grocery carts over the years. It is interesting to watch how a person thinks and observe the little nuances of their hand-writing. What type of paper was used? Pen or pencil? Cross off or check off? It is a good thing I did not study psychology or I might read too much into them.

Phone Home

Reading through Reading through The Restaurant at the End of the Universe has kept me entertained through the quiet haze of the morning after the holiday. It is approximately 40 degrees colder than two days ago and I am committing to a scarf for the end of year. (If only I could apply this same devotion to relationships.)

Bright skies, a good book, decorated trees, and acoustic carols in the kitchen at 2 a.m. have transitioned me gently to the holiday season.

You'd Better Thank

This year I am most thankful for my family and for my friends. You were extremely supportive, encouraging, and brutally honest through the last year. I am thankful for laughter and for the sound of water as it hits a concrete surface. I am thankful for music and for a clear sky at night. I am thankful for my palms which are proportional to my fingers (things a stranger will say to you unprompted for $500 Alex). I am thankful I am able to eat and that my home is heated.

So tomorrow as your mind drifts from one thought to another and from the family you are with to the family who is away, I hope you too will feel thankful and perhaps find a way to help another.