I have a lot of work right now. I am grateful for the work, because as a freelancer it’s either feast or famine, and it seems I’m currently feasting on the content of Wegman’s (although, and I know this won’t be popular, since it seems to have taken over Brookline, I don’t like Wegman’s at all. It’s dark, it’s crowded, and I don’t like the whole “Wegman’s Brand” thing, but it is giant and it did suit my purposes here). Anyway, I’m trying to be extra grateful for this pile of work today, because I am extra busy and in order to give every client my best stuff, I have to pour on the gratitude so I remember that I’m lucky to be working with all of these really great clients. AT THE SAME TIME. Oooops, that seemed to come out of the non-gratitude part of my brain. Don’t worry, I squashed it.
Google Doodle strikes again. Today there is a Rubik’s Cube you can play with. Yeah, it’s Monday, I’m drowning in work, and guess what I’m going to be doing all day?
Peter created a brand new sport last night. He calls it Porch Diving. (It’s also known as missing a step and face planting on brick, hitting your legs on a teak lounge chair and your head on a metal one.) His first attempt, left him with four stitches on his forehead, two egg sized swollen cuts on his legs, multiple black and blues, and one bruised ego. Thanks to the Emergency Room at Brighams & Women’s for being so solicitous and having a good sense of humor. What that man won’t do for sports.
Maybe I was a dog in another life. But these animals just speak (woof) to me on a deep emotional level. Take a peek at these shelter dogs heading home. I just love a happy ending.
There are people who don’t believe that climate change is real (Ann Coulter is probably one of them). But my friend Mindy Lubber, President of Ceres, a non-profit who is working to get investor and business leaders to use sustainable strategies and practices in an effort to make sure climate change will not advance to the point of not only ruining our economy, but also the planet, has the terrifying statistics that tell the story, the stories that illustrate the problem, and the future predicitions that will doom us if we don’t make some changes, like stat. This woman lives and breathes this stuff, and if she says there’s reason to take action NOW, she doesn’t mean right after you finish binge watching Scandal.
If you don’t know a lot about climate change (and I’m not going to pretend to be any sort of Einstein on the topic, but I’m learning–better late than never), or think it’s actually media hype (I’d say there isn’t enough impactful coverage of this topic), or you love your kids and want them to have a planet when they grow up, PLEASE WATCH MINDY’S TED TALK, ADAPT & THRIVE, and then sit down with yourself and think about what you can do. And then forward this talk to everybody you know and talk to them about what they can do.
Gratitude to the brilliant Mindy Lubber, who makes this, the challenge of our time. her life’s work. But, guys, this is real, and she can’t do it alone.
Well shit, I didn’t need scientists to tell me this: swearing makes us happier. Read this “scientific” article and tell me it doesn’t make you want to say fuckshitbitchdamnhell. I guess that explains my fucking potty mouth, now doesn’t it.
I want to be a better person than this. I want to be tolerant of everyone’s views.
BUT WHEN IT COMES TO THE OPINIONATED, STUPID AND CLASSLESS CELLS THAT MAKE UP THE BODY THAT IS CALLED ANN COULTER, well, I just lose my shit.
So, I was happy to see this little FAIL on Ann’s part. Of course, I think everything she does is one great big fail, but hey Ann, just wanted to say, you should change the spelling of your name from Ann to Ass.
You know what’s cool about today? It could turn out to be the best day of your life. You could bump into someone you used to work with, and they could make you laugh your head offf (which would not be great, because you need your head), you could get a compliment from a total stranger, in fact, you could fall in love with a stranger. You might meet your new best friend today, or convince someone mean to be nicer, or make friends with your thighs, or your mean neighbor, or that dog who always barks at you in the park because you have no idea why. You might get a primo parking spot, or find a sale on shoes, or turn on your air conditioning and just enjoy that you need it. You might notice your herb garden is starting to make progress, and your kid is starting to say thank you, and your abs are starting to tone up (lucky you). You could find some money in a pocket, or on the ground, or in your bank account, or find out that piece of work you did made your client so happy they want to make you president of the world, or notice that your teeth really do look whiter from those Crest white strip thingies. You might find out that someone you love is pregnant, or no longer has cancer, or loves you so much they want to burst wide open (which would be a little bit bad, but net, really good).
The thing is that the truth about today is that ANYTHING could happen. Look for the good stuff and know today isn’t just Monday, it’s fucking POSSIBILIDAY.
This is a reblog. I wrote it a few Mother’s Day’s ago. But it’s still true. And I still miss her madly, and still think about her every damn day. Love you, mommy salami. xo
It’s been a long time since we’ve celebrated mother’s day together. It’s been exactly 22 mother’s days, in fact. It’s amazing that you’re still dead. And I gotta tell you, it’s really a bummer. No, really, that dying thing sucked. Don’t do that again.
I actually think of you every day. Isn’t that kind of amazing? There I am with my “to do” list,” sitting at the computer doing work, cooking, or driving, and boom, your face will pop into my mind, your long fingernails painted misty mauve, your uniquely “you” smile that only got better with age, your passion for bargain shopping. I think of your optimism, your wit, your aptitude for throwing together a meal that could have been served in a restaurant, your laugh. I think about how you embraced getting older with the same kind of joy a middle-of the-night bottle gives to a screaming baby.
You were really good at loving me. In fact, you gave me so much love that I’m now able to give it to other people. You put up with my teenage arrogance/confusion/Sybil-like behavior with a kind of grace that’s hard to come by. You took me to all those ballet lessons, up those three flights of stairs, and shared all those post-pirouetting Big Macs with me. You created a summer tradition by finding that little house on the Cape and bringing me there for a month every summer, offering me some of the best and happiest memories I have. But mostly, MOSTLY, mom, you assured me that whatever was wrong could be solved and that if I tried to do something, I could. With a difficult dad (and here was your major flaw–you should have left him), you tried to give me what I needed to go out there in the world and be ok. I know it wasn’t easy for you. I knew then, but I know better now, as an adult and a mom, just how difficult this must have been. And I know you mustered all your strength because you wanted me to be more than you. It’s funny, because all these years, I have longed to be as much as you.
I hate that you never got to meet my children as much as I hate racism, climate change and liver. Sometimes I think about what I’d give to have a chance to introduce you to them–I cook up all sorts of wacky scenarios in which I’d trade a shortened life span, my house, an inability to lose weight just to be able to give you and my kids a day with each other. But they know you, through me and through themselves, because you show up in all sorts of way, all the time. Ally has your sense of humor. Jake has your compassionate ear. And all three of us love to eat and laugh. But I will never quite get over the ridiculous and cruel fact that you didn’t get to experience these magical grandchildren of yours. It seems impossible that the timing just didn’t synch up, and you missed each other.
Well, anyway, happy mother’s day. I know you’re around, in my flower arrangements and my sauce, my keen ability to get a designer label at half price, and my crazy love for my kids. I miss you. Like, a lot. I wish you could stop by today and give me a hug. Anyway, just know that I’m thinking about you today. Just like I do every day.