I hope I write sometimes when I feel really fantastic. I don't go backwards and read my previous posts. I'm sure I don't blog like some others do where they're promoting something or telling a story. I just write how I feel or what new thing helped or hurt, etc. and maybe to me it seems like it's mostly on the negative feeling days that I am compelled to write. I guess that's the cathartic part, the therapeutic part of it for me. I need to go out and get some sunshine. And it is a beautiful day here. There's not any reason for me not to be happy. But, I feel empty. Not unhappy, just empty. I shouldn't but, I do so I will accept it. I am cooking something I really love, a squash pie. And I'm finishing my laundry without undue pain. Also going to work on my little crafty creations later, which feels sometimes like such a waste of time and money. Who cares about those little pendants or the crocheted muffs? What does it matter if I make them or not? Yes, my house will feel more appealing if there's not clean laundry strewn across my living room but, so what? What am I left with? Squash pie. And in the midst of all this "who cares?" feeling is the "holy cow you ungrateful *****" that I'm not thankful enough for it all. How can I possibly have a day like this in all the blessings on my list? But I am, and I do. So there it is.
Oscar is trying his very best to lure me outside to play. So, I will now be thankful for him and take him up on it. Having faith that at least it might help.
Grateful for the fundamentals. My shelter, my abundant food, clean water, indoor plumbing, electricity, peaceful and happy marriage.
Someone have a happy day. Mine is at risk.
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