AFTER THE BED IS MADE

 

The decision I must make each day when I rise. What will I do today? Because I’m no longer employed, it is more open than for people who must go to a job each morning. Still there are decisions.

How do I feel? Well? Happy? Tired? Sad? Put upon? The answer to this may choose my clothing for the day. How do I want to appear? Don’t care? Pretty? In charge?

An instance wanting to appear in charge happened to me one day when as an elementary teacher, I was scheduled to meet with parents who had demeaned a teacher at a previous parent-teacher conference.

I chose a skirt and blouse, a blazer, and took high-heeled shoes with me for the interview. Apparently looking professional and believable, those parents agreed with my assessment and offered no negative comment, as they had when the other teacher, dressed in less formal clothing, told them the same thing.  Was it my clothing? I can’t prove it, but I think the formality of my dress changed their attitude.

Think about a particular piece of clothing and why you love or hate it? If you hate it, do you feel grumpy wearing it? If you love it, do you feel happy?

An experiment to try. If you awake tired for some reason, put on something bright and happy—your favorite skirt of slacks. Choose bright colors. If someone says how nice you look, say “Thank you” and smile. I’m willing to bet you won’t feel as tired.

Give it a try!

 

 

 

 

 

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Words and Their Uses

Yes, words matter. Words come from our lips–speak without thinking of the harm and hurt they may cause. Words spoken that show caring and love which may give peace to another.

Words written in truth or lies. They matter.

Be careful with your words. Know that you are giving the truth of a matter before repeating them.

Words written to

Wanderings of an Elusive Mind

I love words. I love playing with words. I respect words, and what they can do to uplift or bring down. Build or destroy. Comfort or agitate. Words should be treated with caution, I believe, because words are forever. Though invisible when spoken, they cling, worm their way into your subconscious. When written, they do the same, but they are more obvious, more readily reviewed in total, without variation.

Stating the obvious, I am now putting words on “paper” (digital though it may be), and those words will become part of me, part of my life, part of my identity. Because they are “out there”, for any who wish to read. To quote. To misquote. Which leads me to the purpose of this blog, my realization that words taken out of context, words distorted to represent what I want them to rather than the whole truth, pushes my buttons faster…

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When the Mind Opens . . .

All these thoughts make me smile because they are so familiar. Sadness too for all the people being hurt by Mother Nature in our world as well as the victims of hatred and meanness of leaders around the world.

Wanderings of an Elusive Mind

You never know what might pour out. There are a lot of daily duties in life that don’t require much thought, or any thought, or any thought that matters at least. It’s at those times I sometimes think my mind works the hardest – at going nowhere with any semblance of coherence, certainly, but go it does. At odd times like those, I think things like this:

Looking at the wardrobe I am accruing for fall/winter/spring – because I have grown weary of the costume for casual wear of jeans/t-shirts/sweatshirts that I have worn for oh so manner years – and because as I grow older, what becomes the most important thing is comfort of what I’m wearing. There are certain items of clothing we females have been taught we must wear that will never ever be truly comfortable, and we deal with those – but why not seek out…

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WINTER PREPARATION

This week I canned five jars of tomatoes and two of tomato juice. This is something I’ve done most of my life.

Simultaneously, I have been re-editing my children’s novel about life on a dairy farm during World War II. In it the protagonist realizes that summer is all about preparing for winter. The farmer puts hay in the barn to feed his animals. The farmer’s wife cans strawberries, makes jam, and gathers vegetables from the garden to can and store in the cellar. The ten-year-old girls are called to help inside and outside.

I’ve realized that while I can go to the grocery any day and buy tomatoes, fresh berries, and vegetables of all kinds—fresh, frozen, or canned—there is a part of me that finds comfort in having a supply of my own prepared food in my cupboards.

When I want to prepare a recipe, I may not have the exact ingredients but I always seem to have substitutes for whatever is called for. There is something about being prepared for whatever may arise that was built into my psychic that drives me.