I missed an episode of Pushing Daisies so I watched it online today and it has one of my favorite lines lately. Also, it’s Sunday and I’m still sick and don’t feel like writing a whole entire post.
Totally the pansy way out, I know this.
Everything we do is a choice
Oatmeal or cereal?
Highway or side streets?
Kiss her or keep her?
We make choices and we live with the consequences
If someone gets hurt along the way we ask for forgiveness
It’s the best anyone can do
The writing prompt from Sunday Scribblings this week could not have come at a better time. Instantly a gajillion and seven things came to mind but I would hate to do bullet points for that amount of things I carry. Plus, I’d be extremely depressed after writing down everything I carry. Therefore, the challenge for this exercise is not to sound like a martyr and balance that with believing that the burdens or things I carry aren’t so heavy that I want to lie down in front of a moving dump truck.
I carry…
The history of the lives of my children and the hope that in their eyes I can see my own past.
I carry…
The suffering of the middle child syndrome and the empathy for every middle child I meet.
I carry…
Not being black enough or white enough and trying to fit in or make my own place.
I carry…
The burden of the impoverished and ignorant and the hope that I can offer something.
I carry…
The dreams of a girl who wanted so much that she can no longer remember what they were.
I carry…
The tiniest piece of bitterness for people who’ve abandoned me.
I carry…
The Common Sense of the knowledge that bitterness only hurts me in the end.
I carry…
Longings for the lives of those who seem to have it all and the matching suitcase of Guilt that accompanies it.
I carry…
A lively spirit and a forgiving heart that has to be trained and protected from former bruises.
I carry…
A tender love and fascination for the fragility and complexity of life.
As it’s Friday and my week has included the death of a former student and the high energy of my boys I knew the inevitable hitting-a-wall was on its way. This one is a sturdy brick one that showed no mercy.
I sneezed 8 times in a row when I hit it.
My throat is closing up.
Watery eyes are making my mascara smudgy.
Everything sounds muted and I am forced TO TALK LOUDLY AND HAVE STRANGERS LOOK CLOSELY AT MY EARS FOR THE HEARING AID I’M SURELY WEARING.
There are things clogging up my nose. Maybe this is what’s in store for me this weekend.
If I could just run full speed at this wall and have it knock me unconscious for the weekend that would be great. Humanitarian, even.
I’m going to have a make-out session with some throat lozenges and a hot towel.
I’ve come to some realizations…
My feet are big but my sons are bigger now and that somehow comforts me.
This time of year I crave a clove cigarette and some hot apple cider but I know the clove cigarette will burn my lungs and not really be as tasty as I want it to be.
The reason I didn’t join NaBloShoeMo is that I felt guilty about buying more shoes because, for the love of grape jelly, I already had at least 30 pair from last year.
That didn’t stop me from buying them this last year and consider photographing them. I could be talked into that.
A cold turkey sandwich on wheat bread with some tomato isn’t on the menu soon enough. Come on, Thanksgiving!
When I consider baking cookies and taking some to my hairdresser because I see her each week makes me a total hair whore.
It’s been sixteen years since I got my braces off and I still run my tongue over my teeth when a student tells me they just got theirs off.
I won’t ever stop caring for and loving the students who cross my path. It’s worth it to give my heart to them.
My daughter will owe less than twenty grand in loans after college and that number seems kinda reasonable.
If I watch The Philadelphia Story I can’t help but say, “My, she was yar” about anything beautiful. I do this for about three weeks.
Getting me through some rough times…
…excellent black tea from Teavana.
…coveting these pretty shoes.
…drooling over this camera with that lens and this flash.
…hugs from my not so little boys.
…anticipating a commissioned painting from this artist.
…re-reading this little gem.
…watching this series that completed my 7 year set.
…listening to this song, even the Ben Folds version.
…reading your words from yesterday’s sad, sad post.
Thanks.
When my job is good it is very very good.
When it is bad my heart breaks.
Today a former student died. He was murdered in his home.
He was 18. Just a baby.
We are all devastated.
Goodbye, Carlos. I wish I had done more and I always will.
This is onerous. I hate it.
