When you no longer notice the beauty in the things you possess, and shop for new, “more beautiful” objects.
When politely ignoring a situation doesn’t make it go away.
When you’re so over-scheduled that you can hardly wait to go to bed.
When you hate getting out of bed in the morning.
Grab a pen. We’re going to plan a party.
Really.
This’ll be fun.
What if you planned your life like you would plan the ultimate party?
Wait…. don’t tell me you hate planning parties. That’s probably because you think that you have to invite certain people, serve particular foods and drinks, provide a sparkling evening that will please everyone and clean up the mess when it’s over. Continue reading →
The froth is the perfect warmth as it clings to my lips. The nutmeg tastes earthy. The espresso is strong enough without stealing the show from the froth. And the sugar…. oh…
Starting the day with cappuccino is a fine way to practice a little self-care. This is indulgence with a kick.
Take:
Mix children and dogs well together. Put them in the field, stirring constantly.
Pour this brook over pebbles; sprinkle with flowers.
Spread over all a deep blue sky and bake in hot sunshine.
When brown, remove and set away to cool in bathtub.
*Discovered in Rare Recipes and Budget Savers, a compilation of columns from The Wichita Eagle’s Home Town News.
Published in 1961.
Contributed by B. M. Pittenger.
By the end of the third full day of rain, we’d filled our Yahtzee pages and played enough Aggravation to understand how the game got its name.
We’d run through Oh, Hell and Cribbage, too. In a desperate move, I suggested Trivial Pursuit, even though I could clearly remember how the game was a yawn fest when I was a kid.
Jenny escaped to the garage to work on a project with grandpa.
Will, grandma and I dusted off the Trivial Pursuit box and pulled out the cards. It wouldn’t be long before we’d lose Will. We fumbled with questions like, “What team retired baseball player Stan Musial’s No. 6?” and “Who’s the barber in The Barber of Seville?”
It was Will’s turn. Continue reading →
The bouquet looks tired. She ought to have pitched it a couple days ago. She turns the vase to view the arrangement from a different angle and convinces herself that if she changed the water, she could enjoy it for another day or two.
He leaves hand prints in the dust on the cover of the box as he opens it. The box contains a package of lures, empty 22 shells, skateboard bearings, tech deck pieces and pictures of successful fishing trips. He keeps the packaging from the gifts. He’s yet to use the lures for fear he’ll lose one.
He closes the box and grabs for his cell. He’s hoping to make plans to shoot gophers or stop at the convenience store to pick up worms and go fishing or take a long bike ride. He leaves another message.
She devotes a drawer in her vanity to notes and cards. There’s one her dad have given her on her twelfth birthday. There’s a scribbled note from the boy that sat behind her in 8th grade English. She found a couple from college roommates.
The drawer is lined with the glitter sprinkled on the “fancier” cards. She remembers being a little girl excitedly opening a birthday card. The glitter would stick to her fingers as she read the card’s message. She believed receiving a fancy card was a sign of a true, lasting kind of love. Continue reading →
A guy walks into a bar…
On his way to finding his favorite stool, he looks around to see if he recognizes any faces. He waves at Joe, who is sitting in his usual corner, tie undone, disheveled hair, two empties and a new beer in front of him.
He could go talk to Joe, but he knows all the stories. Joe will bemoan the fact that he works harder than anyone else. He’ll mention – again – that his wife has threatened to leave him. He’ll wonder why his kids want to have nothing to do with him.
The guy doesn’t need to be the shoulder today, so he smiles at Joe and moves on.
He sees Ellen in the corner, snuggling up to a new victim. She hikes her skirt up a bit to show more leg as she sips her chardonnay. The victim has yet to learn that Ellen uses up men at the same pace that she sips her wine. The guy walks by their table just as Ellen leans her shoulders back in an effort to let her blouse fall open just enough. Continue reading →
Thanks for stopping by.
I steeled myself enough to peek over the edge of the covers. Audrey was staring back at me.
“This is kind of late for you, isn’t it Dear? Shouldn’t you be well into the morning’s chapter of reading by now?”
“I know, Audrey. I know. This is late. I’m hiding. I’m playing the role of the ostrich today.”
“I see. So because you received a call with some unsettling news on Saturday, and slumped around in a funk all day Sunday, you think what you really need to do today is sleep in and avoid the rest of the world?”
“Well… yes. I am going to fold my tent. I will fold it neatly and tuck it away. I’ll spend the day in bed with the covers pulled over my head and wait for everything to blow away in the wind.” Continue reading →
She walks in the door after a day of meetings, appointments, disappointments and challenges. Before she pours a glass of red, she puts on her favorite pair of jeans – the ones with the threadbare knees. The cotton has softened with many washings, and now the fabric covering her thighs resembles suede more than denim.
She sits on the couch with her legs curled under her. With each sip of wine, she mulls over the day. As she reviews the interactions she can’t help but think of how she felt during each exchange.
__________
The meeting with her supervisor left her feeling stiff and tense – the same way she feels when dressed for work in a crisply ironed blouse and business suit. There never seems to be room enough to stretch her arms or take a deep breath. A day spent in that suit is a day spent as someone else.
The lunch with her sister was every bit as uncomfortable as the expensive wool sweater her sister had given her last Christmas. The style didn’t fit her. The colors didn’t match anything in her closet. On the rare occasion that she wore the itchy cardigan, she was reminded of how disconnected she and her sister had always been. The scratchy texture of the wool equaled her sister’s insensitivity. Continue reading →
Imagine how sweet this journey would be if we quit second-guessing every one of our decisions. What if we reveled in the things that went well for longer than we stewed over the things that went wrong.
We’d more easily live in the moment, if we quit beating ourselves up over how we mishandled the last moment.
Festering, lingering, dwelling on the difficult does not help us learn the lesson better; it keeps us in a holding pattern and prevents the arrival of new lessons. Continue reading →
“Mom, didn’t you say you were going to take us to a play about Camelot?”
I’d lost the note I’d written. At the beginning of April, I’d discovered a college production of a funny version of King Arthur and Camelot. I’d forgotten to buy tickets and the date was fast approaching. “Will, I’m glad you reminded me. I’ll get online and find out where to get tickets after we get back from the hardware store.”
__________
We’d gone to Home Depot under the guise of exploring options for a homeowner repair. We came home with a pile of seed packets instead.
They each got to select a couple different packets for their corner of the garden. Jenny selected celosia, forget-me-nots and celery. She doesn’t actually like celery but her imaginary friend does. Will selected a packet of habanero seeds and sweet onions. I picked basil, California Poppies, hollyhocks, and nasturtiums. I’m sure there were more in there. Continue reading →
When I brew a cup of tea, Jenny runs over to stand next to my cup. Her turned-up nose hovers over the steam as she inhales deeply. She loves the smell of tea but isn’t fond of the taste. She often asks if she can dunk my tea bag while she watches the hot water take on the soft yellow of Chamomile. She likes knowing the color comes from flower petals.
I think she’s drawn to the ritual of the process. She’s fascinated by the little envelopes that hold the dried leaves. She likes the names of tea: English Breakfast, Orange Pekoe, Honey Bush, Peppermint and Lemon Zinger.
And so she spent the better part of a sunny afternoon, sitting out on the patio with paper, embroidery floss, staples, tape and markers to make her own tea bags. Her tea bags contained imaginary dried petals and herbs.
Will and I marveled at how much they looked like real tea bags. Maybe these were tea bags for baby dolls. They might be used for a party with imaginary friends.
Jenny served us up some “steaming hot tea” in pastel-colored cups with mismatched saucers. Will asked for Peppermint. I chose Earl Grey. Continue reading →
