I am feeling discouraged this morning. The weight I had lost in the winter have all come back – with no help from me, of course! I feel them heavily, sinking my spirit to the ground. They sit on my hips, pushing and keeping me down. I sigh and sip my sweet Chai.
Oh life, why must you try me so hard? When I’m up, you bring me down. You even blotted out the sun this morning. There’s a brisk breeze blowing through the trees. My purple petunias are bravely nodding their heads. They have seen better days. Their season is over. It’s time to put them to sleep. I can see today is one of those days.
My head is like a jukebox sometimes. A thought or feeling is like a coin in a slot, triggering a song. The Byrds are now singing Turn, Turn, Turn. There is time for every purpose under heaven. Perhaps, it is signalling me to relax and let go of the uncontrollable.
I’m having a second cup of Chai, sans the honey and milk. That much control I have at this moment. I can’t speak for later. Sometimes I think the food manufacturers slip things into the food to get us hook. Why else do we have these cravings? The grey is making me a bit paranoid besides wanting to hibernate and add to my adipose layer. Damn it! I’m not letting that happen – much.
I’m in danger of running out of words, ideas and inspiration. I better save them for the Alice in my wonderland. I have, howerver, roused myself from the doldrum of lethargy and taken a run at the day as best I could. That’s all one could ask of oneself.
I’ve gotten up, dressed up and shown up. The bed is made, breakfast over and dishes are done. I’ve made a small batch of sunberry sauce. The aroma of sweetness, ginger and lemon spices the air. Sheba and I have walked, talked and barked at people and dogs. My little furry white neighbour is gazing at me intently through the window. I can feel his eyes boring into my back. He brings a smile to my face as I am tap, tapping away here.
Sheba saunters into the room. Looking up and out the window, she sees her teaser. She rears up on her hind legs and barks at him ferociously. He looks back, nonchalantly as to say, Who, me? What did I do? And so it goes. Every dog has its day, too.
How are you doing on this fine day? Want to share?