Today’s post is written to keep my promise to blog for 14 days …
Is this how writing will take place in the future? My good friend, …
I haven’t kept my promise. Life has gotten in the way. Travel, caretaker, fundraiser all seemed more important than establishing and sustaining a full fledged writing career—in spite of the promise.
No this isn’t a food blog, but you never know what will move you to write. Margherita Pizza may show up in one of my future plots. You never know. Together with an ice cold bottle of beer, Margherita pizza has to be one of the best tasting pizzas I’ve eaten and I’m a card-carrying, sausage lover. Since then it has become a frozen pizza staple in my freezer. it’s Marinara sauce, flavored with garlic and oregano, the mozzarella, fresh basil, and tomatoes are to die for. Because it lacks animal fat, it’s easier to appreciate the other flavors.
This morning, Supermaids saw the real me. I ran ahead of the two women while they were taking off their shoes and hanging up their coats. They lagged behind, talking in Spanish and eyeballing. “Look at the clutter. I bet she didn’t know we were coming.” Then laughter. Well, I don’t speak Spanish, so I don’t really know what they were saying. I’m just imagining what I and a friend might have said.
Nobody is more aware than me of how important money is and how attractive power can be. In fact, you need a lot of one and a little of the other to get to where I am now—a place where neither matters anymore. Now I am in a place of simple gratitude. What am I grateful for? I am grateful for being clothed in my right mind, though as my sister says, some I thank God for allowing me to sit on my patio and enjoy the cool breeze, ice-water, chirping birds, leisure time, and the slow pace that has become my new reality. I am transformed by gratefulness. No hustle and bustle. No rush-rush. I’m so glad I’ve lived to experience this new phase of my life. I’m grateful!
Want to see some beautiful photographs of my neighbors yards? Forget about a theme or a focus today, this blog ought to be just what it is-a format for me to write about whatever takes my fancy. This morning, I took my camera with me on my regular morning walk (well regular since yesterday when I decided that I was just “too darn big”).
I don’t think I became aware of the dreaded ‘world’ until my teens. I knew that I couldn’t be hugged up in the corner with boys at blue light parties. I couldn’t sip out of the bottle they were passing. I couldn’t keep the ten dollar bill that I’d seen the old man drop even if my friends did think I was a fool to give it back. My mother hadn’t raised me like that and Sunday School had taught me that those things were wrong.
Coffee is the best thing that has ever happened to me in the mornings. Some of you love tea the same way and so I grant you this right, also. In fact there is nothing we love that any other person has the right to declare wrong for us. Over the years I’ve seen battles waged against chocolate, eggs, red meat, and other products
The first 45 I ever bought was “Shop Around”, by the Miracles. “Who’s Lovin’ You” was on the reverse side. Since my father’s turntable was designed for 33 1/3’s, I had to buy the yellow plug that snapped into the middle of a forty-five to make it fit the