Random thoughts from an older perspective, writing, politics, spirituality, climate change, movies, knitting, writing, reading, acting, activism focussing on aging. I MUST STAY DRUNK ON WRITING SO REALITY DOES NOT DESTROY ME.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Eggs
It is in noticing the small things and being cheered, even slightly, by them that we give ourselves a bit of a gee-up and then other gee-ups start to pile up quite nicely.
The husband and adult children of my darling friend were overjoyed when I created a closed group, members only, for my friend Helen. I called it "Helen's Circle" and I posted some of my pictures and then one of her sons posted a baby picture of her and I found our Confirmation picture and put that up. And we cry a bit but the joy is there too when we look at her and the portrait of her and the World's Most Impossible Dog (she was a dog rescuer and worked tirelessly for the Dublin SPCA). And this dog? I don't think any dog was ever more despised. It bit, it barked, it was completely and totally unlovable and this opinion was shared by all her dog-loving family and friends including me. The dog, Robyn, laughed all through her obedience classes and then proceeded to bite her husband every time she saw him and after that snack would bite the hand that fed her (mine, a few times).
So those eggs? Ramana had posted about the wee things in life and I thought to keep my eyes open for them. I got the ceramic eggholder in a thrift shop for a whole dollar but it gives me unremitting joy when I put my hardboiled eggs in it. And the eggs are happy eggs from my friend who names her chickens and gives them the run of the place. These eggs are art.
And my office missed me when I was away. They bought me an espresso maker, one of those old-fashioned stove-top ones. I do whine about not having strong coffee. They fixed me. Sweet, yeah?
And I get a message to come for dinner from dear friends for Sunday evening. Always beautiful company and beautiful, thoughtful food.
And I start a project tomorrow that will enhance my community in a small way I hope.
And some lovely phone messages that I finally played yesterday.
So I'm counting my eggs.
They are many and they're all delicious.
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You need a blessings jar, missus! Write the blessing and the date on a scrap of paper and put it in the jar. Then open up in a year's time to realise how many blessings you have enjoyed. It is amazing how many we forget as we trudge along life's road.
ReplyDeleteI have one GM and I do use it but haven't emptied out last year's yet with all the distractions and trip back home....
ReplyDeleteXO
WWW
I believe in counting blessings and good eggs are among them for me, too. I love knowing my eggs come from chickens who get to live natural, outdoor lives.
ReplyDelete(Although I have to say, I wouldn't tolerate a dog who bit me.)
I smile
ReplyDeleteas you encourage me
onward :)
I'm glad that you are finding bits of happiness that help you through these days. Sometimes it's the smallest things that help. As I read about your friend's impossible dog, I thought about a cat we temporarily adopted. Probably originally feral, she earned her name of Cujo. She hated my husband. Who knows what kind of abuse she might have suffered when on her own. After she'd torn up his arm a few times while he tried to feed her, he hated her, too. When she bloodied my poor old original 15-year-old sick cat a time too many, my vet finally found another home for her. Our two-dog, one-cat home wasn't ever intended to be her final home, but no rescue group would take her, so she was with us a good long while before my vet found someone who needed her as much as we needed him to need her.
ReplyDeleteSAW:
ReplyDeleteMe too, there's something mentally unbalanced about a loved dog who bites. Helen knew the dog was insane but loved her. She was a sucker for the downtrodden.
Yes, love my beautiful eggs....
XO
WWW
OWJ:
ReplyDeleteWe do it for each other my dear friend.
I'm still using your beautiful soap I cut off a slice as I need it.
XO
WWW
Linda, how terribly sad for you. One of my dogs went for my granddaughter when she was a baby and I sat her down after baby left and forced her to look at me and told her if it EVER happened again she was gone forever.
ReplyDeleteSwear to gawd from that moment on Chelsea literally adored my granddaughter, covering her with kisses every time she saw her, cuddling her, etc.
Cats? A totally different species, they don't listen to lectures....
XO
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Now I'm all jealous. I love that egg holder with its special eggs. You are in a good place, like those eggs.
ReplyDeleteTo notice the small things and let them cheer you is a good way to get through hard times. Your sharing here of the ways you find to cope is, however, no small thing. So, thank you for the big things, too.
ReplyDeleteHattie, I'm getting there though there are awful moments of grief. I never expect them
ReplyDeleteYes, I do love this wee holder.
XO
WWW
Pauline:
ReplyDeleteI do believe loneliness in feeling is a dark and dismal place. By sharing in a forum such as this the hand-holding and understanding makes it so much more tolerable.
And comforting.
XO
WWW
Read your recent and this post.
ReplyDeleteSo many blessings you have.
I admire you much.
This one, Callie, woods, computer, cooking
and people checking in.
But then I am beyond you in years.
Take care..
my computer stopped
ReplyDeleteand I will finish
You remind me in many ways
of myself in years past
and now :)
A ceramic egg holder and a stove top espresso coffee maker would not count as wee things in my lexicon. And your patting me on the back most certainly does not either.
ReplyDelete