Feeling

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I’ve been having a difficult time accessing my inner Pollyanna these last few weeks, and all my usual tricks to make myself feel better – exercise, gardening, cooking, home projects – aren’t having their desired effect, so here is a little something I saw over at my friend Kelli’s to help me through.

Reasons I feel grateful today:

1. My cute partner in crime pictured above.  I love him and our life together more than words can say.

2. Also, to toot my own horn – I’m pretty fond of the composition of the above photo – the reflection in the mirror and the window are soo good lookin’ (a little Seinfeld never hurts either).

3. I’ve almost made up my mind about all of these candidates, and there is less than a month left of television ads.  Yippee!

4. Not-so-guilty pleasure – I got Sex and the City: The Movie on DVD!  Maybe I should put some new batteries in the remote, because, gentle readers, I’m going to be pressing the pause button a-plenty analyzing all those wardrobe changes.

5. Time with good friends – Nia with Mara, movies with Bridget, and long phone conversations with Sarah, not to mention the upcoming Bunco night with the whole posse!

6.  The rain is back and my grass is turning green again…

Ahh, that helped!

Be Back Soon…

I’m feeling a bit out of sorts but promise to be back Monday.

Wishing you well…

My dear friend Bridget came home yesterday, after a two week vacation in California.  As we are movie buddies, hitting the Academy Theater together about every other week, I was itching to go.  Luckily, there was something we wanted to see, after a very unfortunate dry spell of lack-luster summer movies.

Since her house is on the way to the theater, I always drive, and so, I began to follow my usual route.  It was an awfully hot day for Portlanders, 101 degrees, which I think changed the physics of the neighborhood somehow, or maybe it was just the music.   I was playing a beautiful Andrew Bird song called Yawny at the Apocalypse, and felt, well, different, dreamy.  Darkness was coming on quickly, yet the notes of the song seemed to prolong those last minutes of twilight, and I was acutely aware of all that was happening around me.

The handsome grey-haired man riding his bicycle, back light blinking to the beat of my heart.  The sound of the Mini passing the myriad parked cars.  The old man, back bent, eager to keep pace with his little dog.  More cyclists riding silently, almost floating down 52nd.  The world was slow and hot – the impending darkness bringing no relief from the fiery day.  I arrived at Bridget’s and realized that the strange light from the heat made everything appear slightly blurred and soft – beautiful.  It was idyllic and magical and lovely.  We drove on, enjoying each other’s company after our long absence, eager to sit in a cool theater and enter another world.

The world we entered, that of The Fall, was a perfect match for the evening.  It was an epic and surreal tale of how broken people become whole again – through story telling, friendship, and ultimately love.  The cinematography was exquisitely beautiful – vibrant colors and intimate camera angles, painting a portrait that will reside in me for a long, long time.  The cherry on top of a perfectly hot day.

 

I was lying on the sofa, reading, when I glanced up at the light.  Ugh, it’s got dead bugs in it, I thought rather loudly to myself.  As I stared at their little dead bodies, I lamented the sometimes insidious nature of insects, and how they often create work for me.  Like how, now that I’ve noticed them, I’ll have to go through the hassle of getting the step ladder, carefully removing the fixture, and cleaning it all up – definitely not on the top ten list of cherished activities (though what is?  hmmm…).

Then, as I continued gazing at the light, I wondered, how do the little critters get in there anyway?  Though you can barely see them in the photo, they only appear to be specks, they seem too large to have crawled in through a hole.  Yet, there they are.

This got me thinking some more about how tiny, often imperceptible, holes in my being act as an entry point on a spiritual and emotional level.  I thought about people and events that I don’t like, and how little bits of them squeeze their way through a perforation in my shell and infest my mind with angry and unkind thoughts.  I really hate it when that happens, especially when I know how much lovelier life is when I’m not tumbling down to the lower depths.

Then, as grace would have it, I also thought about those same holes, and how the most wonderful and generous gifts enter through them: a smile when I least expect it, a kind word, the light in the hallway, the sight of my husband, a million different instances that spread like the light of dawn in my heart. 

Suddenly I felt tears prick at my eyes, and I looked at the bugs again but this time with gratitude.  Thank you for bringing this bit of grace into my life.

Late Monday night, as I stepped out of the cab that brought us home from the airport, I was so very happy.  Hello Portland, hello street, hello house!

I lugged my heavy suitcase (though not as heavy as Gregory’s :) ) up the front steps and openened the door to be greeted by little Paris peeking out of the shadows.  Milo was meowing up a storm by the back door and was promptly let in.  The house was stuffy, so I opened the windows to bring in the air that is home.  It felt so good, for as much as I enjoy traveling, I enjoy coming home even more.

I love rummaging through the giant pile of mail left on the dining room table, wandering around admiring the rooms we’ve created together, sitting quietly on the sofa and listening to the house creak, and best of all, cuddling up with my sweet hubby in our bed, before drifting off to sleep.

Dorothy, there really is no place like home…

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