In Musing

We have all answered the “who will we be” question. For some of us, it’s a stab-in-the-dark response in order to end the conversation. For others, they actually know the answer! And it comes with a roadmap!

Memories. They not only light the corners of my mind, they’re stacked so high back there, it’s like an episode of Hoarders. Whether misty water-colored or neon bright, I can’t imagine throwing one out. 

For years, I blamed the wise men.

I thought they were the ones responsible for this holiday gift giving racket where shopping becomes the reason for the season.

Wait! Did I just imply I’m victim to my cable provider? Well, yes. For whenever you hear a tale of woe, especially any sort of chronic complaint, we’ve painted ourselves a victim. Of course, “chronic complaint” would be a genial way to describe the utter frustration I feel towards the telecommunications behemoth.

I am struck by the grace of summer. Its willingness to let go and allow fall to ripen and take over, especially when I have no such poise.

Tis bliss and nothing less than absolute conviction when one shakes a can of Comet and sprinkles that pastel green powder onto a dirty surface. To do so is to know change is imminent.

Tending rows of vegetables bursting off the vine and basking over beds of hydrangea and daisies, these were the stuff of dreams back when I thought chlamydia was a plant

I grew up Catholic. What’s that got to do with laughing? Insert punchline here.