Monday, December 09, 2019

Camus on a rainy day...

i've never read Camus, but he's got a lot of great quotes, like this one:

In the midst of winter, i found within me an invincible summer.

And this one, which i had on a plaque in my bathroom:

Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend. 

This is one I need to learn and relearn again. I'm relearning it with Henry. Remember Henry? He's the guy I thought was crushing on me only to find out he's just a friend, which is okay too.

Today I was grumpy. I had to do some lady kind of laundry this morning, I was running late, I couldn't find my Advent devotional on Mary, not that I would have had time to read it, and I was feeling sorry for myself and crampy when Henry came down for lunch. So I pretty much ignored him, read my book.

And then I saw that I had to do my dishes. So I started a conversation with Henry, who has stuff going on too. It felt good take the focus of me, to listen. In the end, that's what matters. Listening to people when you finally have the energy to not be grumpy.

Thursday, March 07, 2019

I don't want to write/I want to write

It all comes back to Pierre. "There once was a boy named Pierre/Who only could say I don't care"

He stays home and a lion comes and eats him because he doesn't care if the lion eats him and the moral of the story is "CARE!"

I think none of that made sense unless you are familiar with the Nutshell Library by Maurice Sendak, popularized in the 70s TV show, "Really Rosie," music and vocals by none other than Carole King.

I linked it up.

It's 10:53 and I work at 2:30. Which means I need to leave by 2, or 1:55 is better.

So I bought a Lenten devotional, and wouldn't you know it, unbeknownst to me when I purchased it, it's about poetry and they hope you write poetry, they write about it in the introduction, which I promptly closed when I got to that part. How dare the Holy Spirit trick me like that!!!

My mother is sitting next to me, writing emails.

Today or yesterday I read that Lent is a gift. It's not another self-improvement kick, it's a gift from God to let us be.

I can't write anymore. I won't write anymore. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Okay, I care, but I don't see how anything can come from these ashes. Huh, the whole point of Lent is that we can't see what's becoming of the ashes. Humph. I'm going to hit publish and go get my laundry from the basement.