My sister Rosie, the rockstar talented physical therapist, gave me some little stretch and ab exercises last time I went to visit her and her family. I did them for a while, not three times a week like she told me to, but once in a while.
This day is as good a day as any to remember the love I’ve felt for the people, places, and things that have at one point or another given me joy. Today I will remember that feeling of being pleased and at ease.
I figured out that struggling with the truth makes me feel crappy so I’m going to try to not do that. I also have a habit of making up stories about situations and people, especially myself, where there’s a lack of acceptance of what is.
I slipped and went to Disneyland, even though my back was hurting and the drive was long, and even though the weather report said rain and my tolerance for wetness is low. I wanted to be a good mom, a good wife, and not the kind of good mom and good wife that I am, but a better one, a different one. One that likes a road trip and one that likes places like Disneyland, even in the rain.
I love dogs. If you have a dog, I’m happy for you. We have a cat. She’s rather dog-like I believe, in that she comes to greet us when we come home, likes attention all the time, and is rather interactive.
The initial joy-like feeling after purchasing the big white down sectional has worn off. Its lovely linen slip cover is wrinkled and floppy. The bright whiteness has dimmed with the dust of daily existence in our non-pristine real life home,
I started thinking about what I’m writing about which halted my writing for a few days.Thinking is not my friend when it comes to expressions of the heart.Once I’m thinking about it I feel like that spark part gets lost in brain which produces something different, less human, more artificial, slicker, than what I’m most curious about now.