Rainy Sunday Morning

I spent the first half hour or so this morning -- the time it took to drink a cup of tea -- looking out my sunroom window, listening to the wind and rain. I watched as a few of the last leaves fell from the maple trees in the neighbor's yard -- some twirling, some floating, some racing toward the still-green grass.

I didn't think about anything in particular. I didn't really think about anything at all. I just watched and listened. It was a welcome break from my usual racing thoughts, my plans and to-do lists.

I didn't worry about the future or regret the past. I simply sat and drank tea. It was nice.

Auntie Incognito

Yesterday was a big day in Maiden Aunt land because the Team Maria president -- who now works in another state -- stopped by my office to see if there were any Peanut Butter Swirl Bars available. Alas, they are all in my freezer (okay, a couple are in my belly).


He took this picture of me cleverly disguised as a demure lady-person whose little cup of joy overflows at the mere idea of ordering more staples and Keurig K-cups. Pretty impressive, isn't it?

Words of Wisdom: Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.

When seeking guidance, don't ever listen to the tiny-hearted.

Sunday Morning

Daphne and The Buddha hang out in the sunshine.

Awesome Rating: Very High

This tackle box was made by my maternal grandfather long before I was born. My Aunt Grace, who is an artist and weaver (you can check out her site here), used it as a paintbox so it has leather tacked inside to hold brushes and a few paint splotches here and there.

Auntie was cleaning out some stuff in her house and very kindly asked my mom if anyone wanted the box. I jumped at the offer, which I guess people found surprising. Hell yes, I wanted something made by the grandfather who died while my mom was still a teenager. Hell yes, I wanted something old and paint spotted and well-used. I knew before I saw it that I would love it and I do.

I use it to hold finished and almost-finished jewelry pieces. Every time I open the box to put something in it, I think of the grandfather I never met, of my aunt, who makes her living with her art, and of my mother, who never met a needlecraft she couldn't master. And I smile.

Don't Judge Me

I was talking with a co-worker yesterday, who said "It's important which college you go to because people judge you based on things like that." At first, I thought it she was talking about job interviews. But no, she was talking about social situations. She went on to say "They judge you about everything -- where you went to college, where you live, how much money you make..."


I looked at her with my patented quizzical puppy expression, head cocked to one side, and said "You socialize with people like that voluntarily?"


The older I get, the less patience I have with people whose entire social agenda entails proving that they are better than someone else. I also have no patience with people whose favorite topic of discussion is whoever is not there to defend herself, people who manufacture drama, those who have to control the behavior of everyone around them, or who don't read. I can't stand people who are humorless and boring (be one or the other, but for God's sake don't be both).


This, my friends, is why I rarely leave my house -- and when I do, I choose carefully. Because I don't want to bring up the length and severity of my menstrual cycle to shut up a dude who is an obnoxious know-it-all, but I will. In fact, I feel it's my duty.


I'm turning into an obstreperous old bitch, aren't I?

Words of Wisdom: Joe

We're sitting on a planet that's spinning at eleven hundred miles an hour. You'd think it'd be more windy.