Magpie and Muttonfly

{I do so love Sundance Catalog Company}

I’ve been a bit of a hermit crab lately … or, more to the point, a crabby hermit.  Working myself into a dither wondering when, for the love of Pete, invoices will be paid, does nothing to liven conversation.  Invariably, someone will ask, ”How’s the freelance gig?”  At which point I stutter about, shrug, and say “So … {exasperated sigh} … you know …” as I stare off into obvlivion. 

It’s not pretty, my friends. 

So while I have gone out here and there, I haven’t invited anyone in for months.  Until Tuesday. 

Tuesday evening my friend Mandi came over for dinner.   Considering my track record, I did fairly well.  I did forget to put the walnuts in a bowl; and since I didn’t want the salmon to get cold while I found a bowl, I simply plopped them on the table … in a Ziploc baggy.  Even better, I did so while asking, “Wanna nut?”

The way I figure, there’s a reason I’m not rich, famous, or married to a politician. 

All things considered, it was a lovely time–a good reminder that I need to do this more {and not just because Mandi brought me a wee book that just happens to be 102 years old–squee!}.

It also reminded me of how we’re all different.  I recently heard of a woman who hosted a family gathering, but refused to let anyone in the house for fear they would ruin something.  

The funny thing is, the older I get, the less importance I place on things.  Don’t get me wrong; there are things that warm the cockles of my heart {as you may have noticed}. But more than anything, I want to surround myself with meaning.  I don’t want to collect something simply for the name, the price tag, or the prestige associated with owning it.  The things I find most worthy of my investment are those of sentimental value … those I can build a memory around … those I can share with others. 

Sure, it may not make me worth more, but I feel rich all the same …