Not sure what’s happening, but I want it to happen faster. Maybe it’s a life of mania that’s made me hunger for the high points. Maybe it’s the depression. Regardless, it’s not happening fast enough, and I need things to happen faster, and I want things to happen faster, and have I mentioned faster? Life needs to speed up. And then, no. I want to savor every moment of the delicious anticipation. The feeling where I can count down all... Read more
For a person who grew up in a home where a constant mantra was, “If you get everything you want now, you’ll have nothing to look forward to,” you’d think I’d be a more patient person. Nope. I am still restless and impatient, wanting things to happen in my own time. Digging up the newly planted seeds, hastening the birth, picking apart the flower buds. All these things will only result in death. There is no profit in such. But... Read more
The sun was warm on my face and I could only see you in silhouette. “Hold still. You have a ladybug in your hair.” You laughed. I laughed. Bending down, your fingers in my hair, your lips on mine. Then I woke up. Read more
I am quite literally in a fight with my brain this morning. This has got to be exactly what St. Paul meant when he said, “take every thought captive,” (2 Cor 10:5) because everything I’m reading, doing, or thinking is pissing me off or making me cry or both. This is a sure sign of my headlong plunge into depression. I know this sounds creepy, but it’s like I’ve been taken over and I hate it. All the usual remedies... Read more
A spoon containing breakfast cereal flakes, part of a strawberry, and milk is held in midair against a blue background. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) It wasn’t until the very last spoonful that I realized it. I decided that I wanted to do some reading this morning, before I wrote anything, and so I got my book propped up while I had a bowl of cereal. As I finished the last bit in the bowl, that sugary sweet spoonful slipping down my... Read more
Detail of The Death of Socrates. A disciple is handing Socrates a goblet of hemlock (Photo credit: Wikipedia) The following is pretty much a stream of consciousness about the whole issue of assisted suicide. So, please pardon the dust. I haven’t finished remodeling my brain on this issue. ***** I’m thinking this morning about Brittany Maynard and how she doesn’t have very much longer before she’s going to die, if she really does go ahead and take her assisted suicide... Read more
Faking sleep at the Fort Wayne Children’s Zoo safari exhibit. It’s the little things. I just now took my “nighttime” meds. This is bad. I’m just guessing here, but I’d imagine that for some people, this kind of mix-up is probably no big deal. (Not to mention that most people probably don’t take daily medications, let alone different medications in the morning and at night.) Morning meds, night meds, it’s all just medication, right? Not for me. One of the... Read more
English: Judgement of Solomon (Photo credit: Wikipedia) Solomon said there was nothing new under the sun. Pretty sure Madison Avenue didn’t get the memo on that one. I like things that are new. I bet you do, too. I mean, really, I may have bought a used car, but I’ll never buy used hosiery. I will gladly wear a denim skirt I got at a thrift store, but I will never buy a half-filled bottle of body lotion. Yes to... Read more
It doesn’t always have to be chaotic to be good. I put my elbows on the window frame and look out toward the school playground. The big maple that is just at the edge has a two-tone look. The top, where the sun falls, is a bright yellow. The underneath is still green. The ground is already covered with fallen leaves, though there are many more to come. At recess, the children are already trying to push them into piles... Read more
Did you ever have a blanket for as a kid? My brother and I often did this. We had a child-sized card table and chairs and we draped it with all the blankets and afghans mom would let us confiscate. Then we’d bolster the whole thing with sofa cushions until I’m sure it looked more like an igloo than a fort. My brother would shoot the imaginary bad guys through tiny gaps in the blankets, and I’d try to imagine... Read more
After the Ecstasy, the Laundry...
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