Miscellany

{anything goes}

Happy New Year!

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Nothing quite says ‘Happy New Year’ like a dashing fellow sporting a finely kept mustache, leaning ever so gingerly upon a vase of brightly hued blooms, holding a piglet.

Ah, vintage postcards . . .

The older I get the more I find solace in their quirkiness. It’s as if those of the past whisper, “Never fear, love–we had crazy, too.”

Speaking of which, if I had to choose a word for 2018, that would be it: crazy. From headlines to all manner of “offense,” it seemed positively batty. And rather than ignore it (as I’m wont to do), I chose to spiral down the rabbit hole . . . reading articles and posts from both sides of debate; scratching my head, shaking my head, and, occasionally, bursting forth in nervous laughter.

Here’s what I learned from the whole experience: that will never do.

So my goal for 2019 is quite simple. I intend to step off the crazy train.

To start, we’ve cancelled cable. We intend to fill those hours reading and writing, maybe partaking in a rousing game of cribbage, or hand and foot.

And I plan to be more intentional. To do what I can, where I am: to shake off excess; organize; have faith; keep in touch.

Do wish me luck. It certainly won’t be smooth sailing; after all, I spent a good year being appalled into inaction; and therefore, something of a flake. . . . also, I’ve already lost the address book I purchased.

But I’m nothing if not determined.

With that, I return the favor. Happy New Year, my friend–and best of luck to you!

Fanciful Fall

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Well, hello. Fancy meeting you here, and in autumn, no less . . .

Seems I’ve quite taken to months’long sabbaticals.

I’d like to say this last one was mindful–that I took the time to frolic, and lounge about, and pen a great American novel or two; but, alas . . .

Work has been nutty (much like the world, it seems). That means I’ve either been frantic in my attempt to catch up, or dogged in my determination to vegetate and otherwise forget about to-dos and deadlines.

There must be a middle ground, certainly.

And I remain intent on finding it.

Until then, I shall simply pop in to say hello; I missed you; and I hope this finds you well.

As we saunter into the first full weekend of autumn, may the days be gracious–a safe place to land, as it were: alight with color, and replete with good food, warm beverages, noble friends, and thoughtful conversation.

xo

Act two

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My, but the month of May did outdo itself this year . . . 

It began with a perfectly delightful May Day, leading right in to a lovely sixth month anniversary. For the most part, the sun shone, and the skies were blue; there were some spectacular thunderstorms, too. We enjoyed visits from friends and family, marked by good food and moments of hilarity. And it ended with back-to-back adventures–one with just the two of us, and one with a few of the people we love most of all.

Perfection, I tell you.

Seems this month has some mighty big shoes to fill.

Of course, I’ve long been a fan of the month of June. Perhaps it’s the anticipation of summer lovin’ or lazy afternoons; perhaps it’s the sight of trees and flowers in all their fanciful finery; perhaps it’s the fact it marks the mid-way point of the year. Whatever the case, it’s a month alight with promise. (We’ve still six months to get it right!)

So here’s to you, and the second act of the year. May it start out strong, with nothing but goodness in the days ahead; and may it build steam from there . . . so when it’s all said and done, you’ll find an ovation worthy performance, indeed.

xo

A good reason to celebrate

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I get to spend the weekend with these two goofballs. The fellows shall golf and we shall . . . well, who really knows what we shall do, but I’m fairly certain it will involve shenanigans of one sort or another.

And laughter, we mustn’t forget the laughter.

Of all the things my mom has taught me, laughter may be the most important. It lays such a strong foundation. As a matter of fact, I attribute a good dose of humor (and the ability to make the best of what you’ve got) as the reason I’ve always enjoyed the likes of Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day . . . even when I wasn’t in love; even though I’ll never be a mama.

A light heart, with nary a hint of bitterness? Now that’s a precious gift–and one of the many reasons I look forward to celebrating her this weekend.

With that, I hope you’re headed into a weekend of celebration all your own (with or without Mother’s Day). Better yet, I hope the hours are filled with the music of laughter, and memories that carry with them a lifetime of happiness.

xo

Future’s so bright

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The weather seems to have finally made a turn for the better. Of course, it also seems to have skipped right over spring, and planted its toes firmly in the warm grass of summer. Still, it’s glorious. And everyone seems to be taking full advantage by digging weeds and planting flowers, packing picnics and taking long walks in the park.

After months holed up in of doors, you just never know what you might see.

Take work, for instance. The windows outside our cubicles overlook the bus depot. There’s usually not much to report; but yesterday, the view afforded a plethora of free entertainment.

Our personal favorite: the lady dedicated to getting her groove on. She began right outside the depot. After tripping the light fantastic (and falling off the curb) she collected herself, sashayed her way across the street, and continued to dance in front of the funeral home. Her repertoire was vast, and she didn’t miss a beat: she bobbed and boogied, jumped and jived; she swayed and shimmied. At one point, she even grabbed hold of the bus stop marker and did a wee (yet relatively impressive) pole dance.

I’m hard pressed to think of a more entertaining fifteen minutes of my career.

With that, I hope the days ahead provide you revelry all your own: may you put on some good music and dance like no one is watching; may your heart feel light, and may you spread nothing but joy to those around you.

Happy weekend, my friends.

xo

P.S. I’m fairly certain I need these shades from Warby Parker. Supposedly, they’ve a narrow fit; yet I remain dubious.