Outside my window-- I see a sky unblemished by clouds. A far cry from the hail, relentless rain, and tornadoes of last Tuesday. Grass so thick and dense it looks like an emerald carpet. Mr. Incredible sure can grow grass.
I am thinking-- deep thoughts. Not like Jack Handey. Seriously weighty subjects. Like how God's sovereignty impacts and orders my life. And how the first words that come to mind when I think of the Lord are refuge, strong tower, shelter, and hiding place. No wonder He's the savior.
I am thankful for Easter. The power and victory of the resurrection of Christ. I'm also thankful for safety in last week's severe storm. That I'm no longer the owner of a hooptie (I'll tell you more on another day). I guess I'm not a hooptie hottie anymore. I can live with that.
From the kitchen ... lots of counter clutter that drives me crazy. But I'm not going to do anything about it today because I'm tired. Insurance policy, cake, pie, cookies, Easter candy, a Nintendo DS in a Bakugan case, Pirates of the Caribbean at World's End, a huge jug of wallpaper paste, a box of Legos. No sign of cooking anywhere, but somehow the sink is full of dishes. All this means someone is definitely going to drop by unannounced. I guess I should get dressed and brush my teeth.
I am creating artwork for RNR's hot pink wall. I could step that up a notch and say I'm creating lifetime bonds, trust, love, and security. Nah. When I try on that type of schmaltz I feel uncomfortable. Like I need a shower.
I am going to go make beds in a few minutes. It seems more palatable than picking up the kitchen right now. After that, I'm considering gathering, sorting and doing laundry. Laundry makes me feel accomplished. Although it never ends, a load of laundry is an easily measured task and has a distinct beginning and ending.
I am reading My Life, Starring Dara Falcon. I would rather be reading The Outlanders by Diana Gabaldon or Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. They sound much more interesting than this as yet uninspired search for identity story by Ann Beattie. But like my dad with bad movies, I even finish stupid books. I have to know the ending. It's a serious character flaw at times. And other times I know it's an endearing trait.
I am hearing the sounds of my own breathing along with the sound of my Strawberry Margarita fingernails on the keyboard. After the busyness of the weekend, I enjoy this kind of quiet.
Around the house are suitcases that need to be unpacked, palm branches that need to be taken to the trash, the most comfortable sofa you may ever sit on in your life.
One of my favorite things is my green suede shoes. I have searched for green shoes for years. I found them. I should have bought two pairs. Silly how wearing green shoes can make me happy. Tells me a great deal about the fleeting condition of happiness. Reminds me to always choose joy over happiness. You dig?
A few plans for the rest of the week... It's a Tuesday that feels like a Monday. Which means my week will be screwy. And I have no idea what is going on. Let me think... Haircut. Derby practice. Derby practice. Derby practice. Coffee. Cleaning house. Returns and errands. Paying bills. Basically, the usual.
A picture to share
|I give it an 89. I can dance to it.|