Tag Archives: irony

Weekly Photo Challenge: Silhouette. Gratitude Experiment: Day 67

This week’s WordPress photo challenge is Silhouette.

This photo was taken while driving to Steamboat as the sun was setting.  That was one of the most beautiful drives I can remember. The trees all along the way were absolutely magnificent. (Absolutely was a word that my dear Yoda friend who passed away used all the time. Today was her birthday and I thought of her a lot today. When I see Pear trees planted in a row I think of her.)

Trees make me happy. They stir up all kinds of emotions in me, be it connections to the past, the ideas of longevity, flexibility, stability  change, hope and so much more.  The Weeping Willow across my street (at my friendly neighbor’s) reminds me of the Weeping Willow that we planted at my house in front of our living room window when I was six years old, as well as the Birch tree by our driveway and its paper-like bark that fascinated me.   My mother loved to plant trees and was proud of how well that Weeping Willow grew. I think it made her proud of her new-found independence.

I am grateful for trees (we take them for granted). Do you have memories or feelings that are awakened by trees?

Hope you had a great weekend – here’s to a wonderful week ahead.  I will work on my random acts of kindness this week, as well as my gratitude and positive thinking.  Thanks for reading!

Seven things. Gratitude Experiment: Day 66

Today I am grateful for being recently nominated for the Beautiful Blogger Award.

Here is what I am supposed to do:

  1. Thank the blogger who nominated me.  Thank you again Amber Starts Today !
  2. Attach the award to my site.
  3. Share 7 random facts about myself (see below).
  4. Nominate 7 bloggers for the Beautiful Blogger Award. There are so many that I enjoy, so this is difficult. (See below)

Here goes: Ambling & Rambling, Rantings of an Amateur Chef, diannegray, … from the bungalow,  amyunjaded, free penny press, OverwhelmedByJoy

My seven things:

1. I’m a Taurus. Stubborn and loyal to a fault until you wave a cape or wrong me.  Then I’m not so great at forgiving.
2. I like old cars with character more than jewelry, clothes or shoes combined. Shoes are up there though. I blame my Dad for both obsessions.
3. I’m a germaphobe and if I see you double dip or lick a spoon before you come close to my meal I will seriously lose my shit.
4. Dry martinis, good wine, salty snacks, cheeses and breads are my epicurean weaknesses.
5. I save my energy for those who are real. I do not understand duplicity and those who master it stupefy me.
6. Sometimes I have the sense of humor of a third grade boy.  Far too many of my adult friends wouldn’t be all that surprised if I asked them to pull my finger. Not sure who to blame for this, but my youngest son will blame me later.
7. I curse like a sailor, but I am working on it, damn it.  I blame my niece. Her cursing puts mine to shame.

Random Acts Challenge. Gratitude Experiment: Day 65

A friend sent me an email this week  that talked about gratitude and random acts of kindness.  There were terrific photos with examples of random acts of kindness – people giving shoes to the shoe-less, someone holding an umbrella for someone who couldn’t hold it for themselves, a note from someone paying the tab for couple of new parents at a restaurant, and several more.

It seems to me that sometimes we spend a lot of time thinking about what we don’t like, what we want next and what we don’t have. I fall into this same rut sometimes.

My challenge is this:  For every time this week that I start to complain about something or someone, or think about some “thing” that I want, I will stop and remind myself how lucky I am and think of one random act of kindness to do.  I will try to do this once per day this coming week.  We’ll see how it goes.

Want to play? I challenge you to do it and see what kind of effect it can have. Challenge your friends or kids to. What a great thing to teach kids.  I know it sounds cheesy, but bear with me and give it a go.

There are websites dedicated to providing examples of easy random acts of kindness and you can Google it – from holding the door open (to me this should be a no-brainer), paying the tab for someone behind you, doing yard work for someone, donating books to the library, cooking a meal for someone, picking up trash, writing a letter or card to someone you appreciate, the list goes on. It doesn’t take much.  One of my favorites is to surprise someone who seems like they would really appreciate it (and never expect it) with a much larger tip than usual. Or to let people go in front of me in line if they seem rushed (freaks people out a little so the entertainment factor is a bonus).

Today I’m grateful for being reminded about random acts of kindness.  And for my readers. Go forth and randomly act. Thanks for reading.

All hail to snail mail. Gratitude Experiment: Day 61

Today I am thankful for those who still embrace the concept of snail mail once in a while.  Though twitter and email and other electronic methods are of course uber-efficient and help us stay more connected than ever before, it’s hard to argue against the power of tangible words on a page.  And the occasional letter or card by mail, in my opinion, is the greatest expression of thoughtfulness, creativity and gratitude.

Handwritten letters and thank you notes are something my mother ingrained in me early on.  And I recently found boxes in her basement where it would seem that she saved almost every letter I ever wrote her.

I have always been thankful that my mother taught me the value of the written word.  My kids probably aren’t so thrilled about it at this point, as my son has a list of thank you notes to complete. But they will be later.

The transfer of hand written documents by an intermediary dates almost as far back as the invention of writing itself.  The development of formal postal systems occurred much later, with the first organized service for transferring written documents in Egypt, where Pharaohs used couriers to disperse their decrees in the territory of the State in 2400 BC.

Now as the internet transforms the way people communicate, mail volumes worldwide are on the decline.

Yet even as email is often used for thanking potential employers after job interviews, discussions with top executives have shown that those who use handwritten notes are more noticed by potential employers compared to the hundreds of emails received and quickly read and deleted.  And those skills transfer over to success in many careers where the handwritten word has been proven to help executives lead others and form deeper relationships with customers and prospects.

I will be using snail mail as a complementary method for communication for as long as I am lucky enough to have a dependable postal service at my disposal.  And I treasure each handwritten note I receive, knowing the thought and effort required by the sender.

Today, though I terribly miss my Mother’s regular letters which I received for the last twenty-five years, I am grateful that she taught me the power of the hand written word.  And thankful to receive as much personal snail mail as I do.

Do you remember how excited you were to receive mail as a child? And do you still get a little excited when you receive a package? I’m guessing so, if you’re anything like me. When was the last time you sent or received a handwritten note?

16 pros and cons on your kid turning 16. Gratitude Experiment: Day 57

Good news: My oldest son is about to turn sixteen.

Bad news: This makes me feel a little old.

Good news: I will now be a car shuttle service for him much less often.

Bad news: The thought of paying for gas for another vehicle makes my stomach a little weak.

Good news: I am very lucky that my son is a great driver.

Bad news: Teenage boys are WAY more expensive to insure as young drivers than girls.  That seems a little sexist to me.

Good news: If we help him get a car we will have a huge carrot to work with behaviorally speaking.

Bad news: Whoever said girls were easier than girls as teenagers did not know my son.

Good news: My dad’s theory about teenagers having cars with the smallest back seats possible and the least room for passengers now sounds like a genius idea.

Bad news: Shopping for a car that will be reliable but won’t indulge your child is a tough balancing act.

Good news:  Craigslist rocks.

Bad news: It’s hard to know what to believe when it come to buying cars.  Suddenly CarFax isn’t so factual.

Good news: There are still a few people who sell their cars privately and who are very honest.

Bad news: Once he is driving I will have a new list of things to worry about.

Good news: My insurance agent said that the Dodge Caravan minivan is the cheapest car for us to insure him to drive.

Bad news: I’m afraid my son might endure bodily harm if he drove a Dodge Caravan minivan to school.

For all this perspective, I am grateful.

Reaching for Gratitude. Gratitude Experiment: Day 55

So it’s been a long day. My oldest son is seriously making me crazy beyond comprehension, I was a shuttle service for my kids today far more than usual despite the paid work I needed to get done, and I found the TV remote control that I’ve been missing for two days in my purse this afternoon.

It’s been that kind of week. And yes, I have a big ass purse.

So this is going to be short. I am grateful that I found that damn remote control. Embarrassed to admit where I found it, but glad I found it. Must have fallen off the bed on Sunday and into my purse on the floor next to my bed. Again, not proud of the fact that I just realized this today, but thankful.

Now it won’t be necessary for me to have a flashback to my grandma’s house watching her TV with huge rabbit ears and actually getting up to adjust the volume (the horror!) every time I want to turn down the bickering on my ever so critical Real Housewives of New Jersey episodes.

I’m also grateful that one of my besties (from my panty hose and purple pant suits days: https://lifeonwry.com/?s=panty#) is coming to visit tomorrow. I am lucky to have such wonderful friends who accept me despite all of my idiosyncrasies and all of the remote controls in my purse.

I promise I’m not nuts. But if I wasn’t a little, you probably wouldn’t find this near as interesting. Which is why I am ever so grateful for you, my readers. Thank you!

P.S.: Also thankful for the beautiful sunrise that I saw this morning and slowed down carpool traffic in order to snap a few pictures of. Life is short, we better enjoy it.

Weekly Photo Challange: Happy. Gratitude Experiment: Day 53

This week’s photo challenge is Happy.

Below are some things that make me happy: my pups at my feet, the mountains, the beach with a Corona, Muir Woods and chilled martini glasses.

Also my turquoise and gold Ainsley teacup collection, my curios from friends in my little mediation corner and 1984 911 headlights.

Of course family also makes me happy, and my friends, and the smell, sight and feel of anything horse, as well as nostalgia,  kitsch, painting and cool mountain air in the fall.  So many others but these are some good ones.
What makes you happy?

Mike Foxtrotter, this has to stop! Gratitude Experiment: Day 51

This morning I was running late for a meeting and getting ready far too late to comfortably make it in time.  And that’s usually when it starts.  Words that would make most people blush begin to fly out of my mouth as I fumble for my mascara and search for my iphone that invisible elves continue to misplace every morning when I need to leave the house.

This is all much to my husband’s amusement.  He often laughs quietly (for fear of his life), sometimes muttering that he thinks he would hear less cursing if he were suiting up in marine barracks each morning.

Today after my explosive rant while hurriedly applying makeup with one eye on the clock, searching for my phone  and changing clothes at the same time, he suggested that I might think about substituting my litany of four-letter words with military alphabet terminology:  “Foxtrot!  Where’s my mike foxtrotting phone?  Delta it.”

Yesterday after I broke a glass in the dishwasher and exclaimed a few niceties, he asked,”Is that how Honey Boo Boo would say it?”   This is getting serious.  I know I need to clean up my act.

At least I’m becoming more aware and I think I have some semblance of control.  I actually do know when to limit my Sierras, Foxtrots and Deltas in certain circumstances when it would be totally out of line.  So why am I unable to harness that kind of self control more often?  Maybe I need to be checked in somewhere.

This afternoon I asked my almost sixteen year old son if I cursed too much.  When he told me “Well, yes Mom, you do, but it’s sort of but it’s funny.”  I threw out a curse word before asking he was serious.  “Sierra… am I that bad?”  I didn’t even realize the irony.

In a fellow blogger’s recent post, Cursing: An Editorial Style Guide (http://imissyouwheniblink.com/2012/04/26/cursing-an-editorial-style-guide/), his guidelines for optimum profanity usage are explained.

Below is rule number one:

***

1. Show some ingenuity.

Contrary to what you may have heard, using profanity isn’t necessarily a lazy way of speaking or writing. Using the wrong profanity is lazy. Choose all words with equal care, I say. My mother, who by the way is one of the classiest dames you’ll ever meet, has been known to brandish curse words in entirely unique ways, inventing whole new parts of speech. She always has the right expression for a situation. For example, walking into an unkempt room: “Holy shitstorm, it looks like the ass end of destruction in a typhoid whorehouse around here.” [Exit with flourish.] What does it even mean? I don’t know. But somehow I can picture it. She is a genius. Always be creative and specific.

***

I can only hope that one day my boys will refer to the ingenuity of my profanity with the admiration that this blogger has for his mother’s.  I know my college roommates have that kind of admiration for me to this day. I had some doozies my freshman year. They still quote me on a couple of key phrases that broke records for profanity ingenuity.

Today I am grateful that at times I am self-aware enough to know when I need to work on improving my less than ideal habits.  And for my family’s patience while I do so.  Thanks for reading!

Traveling the world through WordPress. Gratitude Experiment: Day 47

I The city of Surabaya. Pictures from Wikipedia Commons

Being Freshly Pressed  filled my inbox for a few days, made me privy to fascinating debates about voting rights, and gave me a great ego trip.  And, I came across a few people with whom I have a heck of a lot in common with and many who are wonderful writers.

Even better, I was downright fascinated with the ability to participate in a pretty civil discourse with people from at least 13 countries, especially given that my post was somewhat political in nature.

In the past three days I’ve had over 300 views per day, with 363 just yesterday. That is crazy.  But very cool.

WordPress let’s you breakdown your visits or views by country. This is yesterday’s breakdown for my blog views by country:

Country                       Views

United States                     232

United Kingdom                   23

Canada                               13

India                                  12

Argentina                            10

Indonesia                             5

Japan                                   5

Philippines                            5

Germany                              4

Italy                                     4

Armenia                               4

Lithuania                              4

Ireland                                 4

One fellow blogger who liked my “Register to Vote” post lived in Surabaya and their blog was available in Malay or English.  I didn’t recognize Surabaya as a place or Malay as a language, so after a quick Google search, I learned that Surabaya is Indonesia’s second-largest city with a population of over 2.7 million (5.6 million in the metropolitan area), and the capital of the province of East Java. It is located on the northern shore of eastern Java at the mouth of the Mas River and along the edge of the Madura Strait. It turns out that Malay is the national language of Indonesia, Malaysia and Brunei, and it is one of four official languages of Singapore

I also learned that Indonesia is the fourth most populous nation in the world. And the number of people who speak Indonesian fluently there is quickly approaching 100%, making Indonesian, and thus Malay, one of the most widely spoken languages in the world.

Okay, enough with the geography lesson.  But it is fascinating.

In the end, I enjoyed participating in a conversation with so many interesting people from so many countries across the world.  Who would have thought that could happen so easily?  I sure didn’t.  And for that I am grateful.

Channeling Mr. Rogers. Gratitude Experiment: Day 46

 

After a wonderful weekend with friends in the mountains, I’m breathing a little lighter and my shoulder muscles aren’t begging  for more Advil.   It’s amazing what a change of scenery, friendship and ridiculous laughter can do for the soul. (As well as good food and wine.)

And how terrific it is to be reminded that I live not far at all from mountain scenes that are living oil paintings and sunsets that songs are written about.  It gives me an even clearer idea about that high John Denver was singing about.

I know is sounds like Mr. Rogers has taken over my keyboard to describe his neighborhood.  And I might as well ask  “won’t you be mine, won’t you be mine, won’t … you be … my neighbor?” But I’m completely serious.  We all have plenty of doses of splendor and beauty not too far away if we make time to notice.

I finally got to witness the glory of autumn’s bright yellow Aspen trees dotting the majestic Rocky mountains as the sun was setting. The pictures I took on my phone through my cloudy car windows didn’t do them justice at all.  The colorful displays were more spectacular than I had imagined and I tried to take it all in. Don’t worry, I wasn’t driving.

I got to drive from one side of the Rocky Mountain National State Park to the other, all the way up and over the Continental Divide,watching the tips of the Divide’s snow topped mountains weave in and out of view.  I saw more Elk than I could ever imagine and heard their crazy orchestra of bugle calls to each other (think Ricola commercials but with huge elk making the noises instead of the Swedish guys in plaid shorts).  It’s mating season and the bugles are blaring.

I was able to swallow my fear long enough to peer out my car window into canyons far below over the steep sides of mountain pass switchbacks without a guardrail in sight.  I got to laugh with friends and family, and forget about house projects, work deadlines and school projects.  I even got to ride horses against scenery more breathtaking than I can describe during an afternoon that made my heart fuller and my eyes a little wider.

The business of life takes over in my little suburban world, and I forget about all of the natural splendor in my proverbial backyard. I also forget how to not sweat the small stuff, as the popular book says.  It really is all relative and it just takes getting outside of yourself long enough to realize it.

For this reminder, I am truly grateful. And for channeling Mr. Rogers.  Won’t you be mine?

 

National “Think Before You Reply-All” Day. Gratitude Experiment: Day 44

I hereby declare today as National “Think Before You Reply-All to Emails”  Day.

It tends to happen a lot on kids sports team emails for some reason.  And a lot of work emails.

Pass the word.  If it’s not necessary to reply to an entire group on an email, please resist the urge.  And only reply to the person who actually needs to know that Johnny has an eye doctor appointment because his stye has been oozing for two and a half days, so he’ll have to miss practice today.

You get the idea.  This will save me from poking my eyes out repeatedly.  And most likely many others.

Today I am grateful that everyone I come across in the blogosphere seems pretty smart and they probably already know this.

Happy Friday.

I’m really not sure any b… can cook. Gratitude Experiment: Day 42

 

I was given the “Any Bitch Can Cook” Cookbook as a gift.  It’s a great cookbook with lots of basic cooking info and good standby recipes that are easy to make from everyday ingredients.  It’s made for people like me who are a little intimidated by cooking and frankly a little mystified by the appeal of performing planned, time consuming cooking feats for consumption.

The book is one in a full line of “bitch” books…” Any Bitch Can Party,” “Any Bitch Can Lose It,” “Any Bitch Can Drink,” “Slow Simmering Bitch,” etc.  The word ‘Bitch’ in these books stands for ‘Babe In Total Control of Herself.’  The books are great for people like me who are always seeking to amaze people with what great meals I can prepare with the least effort possible.

I think my dad and stepmom secretly hope that someday something is going to click in my head and I am going to enjoy cooking and going to an extreme amount of work shopping for and preparing a meal. They give me wonderful baking dishes, pans, tools and recipes that make a world of difference and make everything taste better.

And my wonderful stepmom teaches me cooking tips every time I am around her.  I am truly grateful for this, but I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to naturally convert.  It’s like I’m missing the gene.

Don’t get me wrong, I like to prepare meals that my family enjoys. And I certainly love to go out for great food and can appreciate fine cuisine. But luckily I married a guy who is more than satisfied with having a night or two during the week when we do pizza or sandwiches, and the rest filled with standby casseroles, spaghetti and Costco cuisine.

He knew what he was getting into when he married me.  That I really wasn’t into the cooking scene and most likely wasn’t ever going to be with my whole heart.  And he knew that I was a far cry from being able to master the more gender stereotypical domestic pursuits.  And that I was probably the most highly functioning ADD type personality he’d ever met.  I think he wanted the challenge.

I’m happy to do the dishes and let someone else cook.  Someone who is much more particular about how it is done.  It seems a tad futile to put that much work into something that will be overwith in 30 minutes to an hour.  Clearly I don’t get it.  Again, I appreciate it in others, but I don’t get it.

Is this nature or nurture?  My mom was not a great cook.  She mastered standards like porkchops and rice a la chicken and rice Campbell’s soup and other such varieties that I remember eating in our harvest gold kitchen. But something about her beef stroganoff has stuck with me and the smell of that dish to this day does not bring back good memories.

So it could be nurture.  Or quite possibly it could have been nature for my mother and subsequently nature for me?  Just not in the DNA.  Something to think about.

At any rate, I am truly grateful that I have many great cooks in my life who love to cook wonderful meals for my family.  And also that my family loves my simplified standby variety of meals that I make while typing a blog, finishing a work project and working on a last minute painting idea.

And frankly, I’m grateful that we have food to put on the table.

 

There’s an Alien in the Coffee Shop. Gratitude Experiment: Day 36

Okay since I used up my Kleenex writing my last post, let’s get some things clear.  This post is not going to be a) heavy, b) depressing or c) lengthy.   Okay maybe a little lengthy because I can’t figure out how to get my posts to be shorter.  Thanks for your patience.

So early this morning I went to get my hair colored because this new getting gray hair thing just plain pisses me off.  Along with needing reading glasses.   No one told me that my body would start immediately deteriorating at warp speed the minute I turned 43. This isn’t funny.

So I’m in the salon waiting the allotted 20 minutes as my color processes and I check my email.  Two emails are friends letting me know that the Denver Post printed my letter to the editor in today’s paper.  Crap, I forgot to check my paper before I left because I was running late.  Not surprising for me.  And before I left I had a client sending me messages with RED FLAGS of importance for matters far from urgent.

I clicked on the email link to the paper.  Cool, they really printed it.  But it just looked like a blog post.  I wanted to see it in real life because that’s the closest thing I’ve had to a byline in years.  Since they don’t let me add bylines to my data sheet copy selling underground fuel storage tank monitoring equipment.  (Yes, my work is Sexy.) I wanted a paper.

I looked at the timer that my stylist had set next to me and then I looked in the mirror.  I have never had so much dye and so many crazy looking foils all over my head in my lifetime.  I’ve gotten highlights before but this time I was switching things up with my color, so she had to empty the store room of color product in order to apply it all over my graying head.  And all the foils where gathered and gooped together into a column pointing up and out the back of my head.  I looked like that creature from Alien, but without all the spit.  I was looking hot.

But I wanted a paper, damn it.  I looked at the lady in the chair next to me.  I asked her if she thought I would frighten people if I walked over to Dazbog Coffee to ask if they sell papers.  Her eyebrows raised and she suggested I have one of the receptionists at the salon go get a paper for me.  But I was perfectly able.  And I’m sure Dazbog would be nearly empty at this time in the morning.

So I grabbed my purse and headed out.  I now had 14 minutes and I wanted a newspaper.  And I didn’t want to wait.

I walked down the sidewalk past people having coffee and got some stares. No biggie.  Then I walk in, with my sassy salon smock and Alien-shaped-hair-color- foiled head.  The place is packed.  With business people. Really? I made a joking comment to the lady in front of me in line so she wouldn’t be frightened if she turned around and wasn’t prepared.  I looked across to my left and at least four or five men were motioning toward me and staring, among plenty others there.  Maybe guys really have no idea what we go through to look so freaking fabulous? Good grief.

Another lady walked up and totally got it.  Time is money.  Gotta get stuff done.  Next, Dazbog girl points me in the direction of the newspapers in the middle of the cafe loungey area.

The clock was ticking.  I was over it. I grabbed a stack of papers, pulled over at a table near the line and started looking through the sections to find my letter. Then I get the feeling that someone close is watching me even more closely.  I turn my head slowly and see that there is a little three-year-old girl who is squeezing her Mom’s hand and staring at me with her jaw dropped.  Just like the kid  in the  Monsters, Inc. movie.  I think she may have wet herself, I’m not sure.  She was scared to death. I apologized to her Mom and told her I was worried this might happen.  She told me it wasn’t a problem and she does the same thing sometimes.  Yeah right.

The Dazbog gal told me I could keep the paper so I sprinted back to the salon, passing more tables of people staring.  I was over it by now and wanted to pull a foil out, hand it to them and keep on walking.

Mission was complete: hair turned out okay, I looked a little less mommish and I had a pretty good time freaking people out, except for the little girl who may have wet herself.

Plus I got my paper and saw my name in print.  Oh, and helped my cause. For all this, I am grateful.

The long way home. Gratitude Experiment: Day 35

This post is from yesterday…  forgot to hit publish.

Once in a while I purposely take the long way home.  Usually it happens when a great song is playing and the car windows are rolled down or the top is down.  Overcast or misty days are the perfect settings for this.

There is a great winding road near my neighborhood that cuts through part of our state park.  It feels like it’s miles from nowhere yet it’s not at all.  It branches off from a much more direct route to its end, so there are usually few cars on it. And right when I reach my neighborhood entrance, it’s like my car sometimes knows when I need to recharge for a just a moment or two.  And when I need to keep going straight and follow this road, making an extra loop before returning home.

I’ve decided this little road is sort of like my own little spiritual retreat.  Like a drive through recharging station.  This is where I crank up whatever song that most likely inspired me to blow off my original turn.  Usually Janis Joplin is whaling about Bobby McGee, Rod Stewart about his sexiness or the Beatles about places they remember.  Any old song that makes me a little sentimental.

And as I make the wide bend of the road (the best part when I go a little too fast) and refocus, I almost always notice a flock of birds in formation.  I’m always in awe of how these birds can perform such a complex and scientific maneuver. Did you know that birds can fly 70% further with the same amount of energy when in formations like this?

I must admit that I have very little affection for birds.  I had a really bad Blue-Jay experience once when my dog found a baby bird, so I am pretty much terrified of most birds.   I’m not sure what kind of birds these are, but I would assume geese or ducks.  And they never cease to fascinate me when flying in formation.

I love that there always seems to be that one little guy at the end of the formation who can’t quite seem to figure it out, probably losing out on much of the drag reduction benefit of the whole exercise.  I always wonder if his cohorts are giving him a hard time for being a slacker and that just stresses him out even more.

And then at that moment I remember a reference in one of my favorite poems.  A poem that I have given to many dear friends in their times of sorrow.  It’s called “Do Not Stand” and the author is unknown from what I can tell.  It’s written from the perspective of someone who has passed on speaking to someone they’ve left behind in this world.  They urge the reader not to stand at their grave and weep, for they are not there. They are a thousand winds that blow, the diamond glints on the snow, the sunlight on ripened grain, the gentle autumn’s rain. And the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.

I can feel my heart leap up as I watch the formation pass over me and I think of my sister. Maybe somehow I connect with that little guy at the end of the formation. Like it’s my sister reminding me that everything’s okay, even for the little guy trying so hard to keep up.  I think a therapist could have a heyday with the psychological theories that might explain this series of thoughts.  Probably many theories would be spot-on, or maybe I subconsciously want to be reincarnated as Janis Joplin’s uncoordinated pet bird?  I’m not sure, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. I’ll be sure to save up for that  session.

Then as I turn my car around at the traffic circle and head back home the opposite direction, through this same stretch of winding road, I breathe a sigh and I am renewed.

Today I am grateful for my long way home.