Most of us live life putting off the happies until we "have time" or something. Joy can wait until we are thinner/fatter/single/in a relationship.......and on and on. I'm guilty and my face is on a poster somewhere as being the one so obsessed with details that she misses random beauty. I haven't always been that way, you know. The animals that have crossed my path this year each have given me a nugget of wisdom about the next fork in the road. But to hear that voice? You have to be still and listen. I'm a great listener because I love hearing the stories people have. Nobody's is ever the same and I adore the way somebody's eyes light up when they say the name of their own personal saint or drunk uncle.
Bubba and I crossed paths for rent and whatnot and Mom is headed for dinner at Mo's, more than likely on the antique china. I just love it when that happens. Millette was named after my mother and they share the talent of entertaining with flair that puts Martha to shame not to mention Paula. Every damn one of them would be ashamed of the way this house looks.
I'm off tomorrow and have just enough to do that it's not overwhelming, unless you consider the laundry situation. Looks might I might be hauling dirties to Four Points and beyond. In the trusty Camry, no less. With no hubcaps or door handles. I'm staying current on oil changes because one big incident and I'm taxi bound. No UCMTSU! And if you did Anonymous would tell it all. As much as I adore my Southern heritage I remember when minorities and women were not treated equally. My brain holds images of the products of slavery which was an emancipated people who picked up and moved beyond the bondage of a retribution mentality. I never saw a black man hanging from a tree or a white hooded redneck with a torch, but I saw pictures and know the drill. Power ain't what it's all about folks. The devil is a sneaky snake.
I received a lovely note from my pastor today following our church attendance. She was really close to Daddy and watched over me and Mom like an angel this past Sunday. It struck me that the entire service honoring those who have passed was sort of a re-run of Daddy's service and that brought comfort and tears.
Sawmill is tolerable but flu season hasn't started yet. Ask me then, umkay? My day off is tomorrow so I've got to get those windows covered for sleeping in. Right.