I am measuring but not in the monetary sense. I’ve long been past that. Now I live my life with conversations over one of those few things I choose to buy every month.
And dum. dum. dummmmm.
Oh, the drama.
It got taken away today.
Or it left.
Or it’s hiding under the house and yes, those boards are nailed down.
But here’s the deal.
I can walk to the internet.
Anonymous left a beautiful song in yesterday's comment section. Thank you.
And there were gifts. Crazy gifts from a nut I love.
A cat purse
Mississippi Entrepreneurs by Polly Dement
The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch, Professor Carnegie Mellon with Jeffrey Zaslow
Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns
Stillmeadow Kitchen by Gladys Taber
Two coasters. On one is written “I do my work at the same time each day: the last minute.” On the other is a lake scene, two chairs on a pier.
The Floral Print Journal by Jordi Labanda.
Best Friends by Hulton Getty.
Adventures in Good Eating with a foreword by Forrest Crissey, the first sentence of which reads, “Good taste is an unruly human faculty not easily confined to a single channel.”
A bird to hang from the china cabinet where I will store the fine china.
Death is a Kind of Love by C. Fry (the 38th print signed by Christopher Fry, Lance Hidy, Charles E Wadsworth)
I was warned that it’s dark, but she says I’ll love it.
A fan of rice paper and bamboo.
A bookmark, which reads, “I squished the pink Mimosa between my fingers, trying to get the same smell as when we climbed the tree together. But really, I needed the whole tree blooming to get the sweetness of the blossoms.” ascattergood.com
A pocket sized copy of The Psalms with a prayer from St. Francis of Assisi.
“Lord make me an instrument of Thy peace, where there is hatred let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.”
“O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; for it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in the dying that we are born to eternal life.”
And a card with beautiful Zia (no mistakes, no erasing) by Judy Rayner.
This morning I wasn’t cool like the Fonz, but.
You know I think everything happens for a reason because then there was lunch.
Also, today included a walk with a vagabond tribe of misfits who somehow fit together, but isn’t that every day.
Today my cup is so full it even contains a coffee pot.
I am grateful.