2025 Project 365 – Week Sixteen

Stay tuned until the end of the post for an exciting manicure update! 

Sunday, April 13th

The Pink Moon, slightly past full. 

Monday, April 14th

The world seems like it’s turning upside down, but I’m wearing Mary Janes & polka dotted socks so you can’t tell me nothin’.

Tuesday, March April 15th

Pretty!

No explanation required.

Wednesday, April 16th 

There wasn’t another photo for today, so you get my giant green linen tunic THAT LOOKS LIKE IT HAS POCKETS BUT IT DOES NOT. A travesty.

Thursday, April 17th  

I was feeling greedy & had TWO (small) bowls of soup at our Maundy Thursday meal. (I also posted a very salty commentary on RFJ Jr. & autism - in a sea of mostly terrible things that just seemed extra cruel - and also eugenics much? Grrr.)

Friday, April 18th      

Work. Unravel the work. Work. Not at all an analogy for anything in particular. 

Saturday, April 19th 

Tomorrow is Easter and I have to be at church at 7:15 so that the choir can practice our anthem before the 8 am service. I’m taking Dr. M’s French Toast Casserole for the brunch afterward. He was going to supervise me (I’ve never made it before), but I was a Sneaky McSneakerson & assembled everything before he woke up this morning. Now it’s stewing in its own juices until I get up at Oh Dark Thirty to cook it. Let’s see, it takes an hour to bake, and I have to leave at 6:45. Factoring in preheating time, I think I’ll set my alarm for 5 am. It’s fine. Really. 

I posted this on the socials: I’m as guilty of buying fast fashion as the next person, but these are actual cloths that I use. 

Finally, my boss is selling press on nails. I wouldn’t normally partake, but I thought I could help her out - especially since these aren’t supposed to harm your nails like some others do. So far I’m a fan - they’re not too long (and could easily be trimmed), and the color doesn’t chip. Note: these feet have obviously not seen the light of day since fall. Ha!

I’ve been spending a lot of time feeling hopeful and despairing about our nation. And last night I dreamed that I was at Mar a Largo and pilfered some jewelry & spent the rest of the dream terrified that I was going to be deported. I woke up & then after I fell back asleep I dreamed I made subversive cookies. All righty then! What does your mental health look like?

We will not let hate win (will we?)

Yesterday I unfriended someone on Facebook - not something I do very often. Usually, if a person has wildly different views of life than I do & I don't want to see his or her posts, I'll just hide that person from my news feed. But this time I decided that I just didn't need to be Facebook friends with a person who had this particular point of view. What did she post? It was one of those memes that said, in effect, no white person alive today ever owned a slave and no black person today has ever been a slave, so basically everyone just get over yourselves.

As if the effects of centuries of people owning other people can be rinsed down the drain like grime after a hard day's work. As if the very institutions that undergird our nation aren't set, by default, to favor white citizens. As if the average black child in the United States today really does have the same advantages as the average white child.

I read an essay the other day where a woman was talking to a black man who couldn't swim. She said that he must not have grown up around water. But he replied that his town had a pool, but that black people weren't allowed to use it. Today that town's pool most likely doesn't discriminate. But what is the legacy of this story from our (relatively) recent past? I grew up hearing that "black people don't swim," as if it was a genetic disposition instead of a lack of opportunity. And this is just one example of systemic discrimination.

I used to believe that once the "older generation" died off, the United States would become a utopia where no one was treated differently based on the color of their skin, sexual preference, gender, or nationality. I'm not that naive anymore. We can't afford to wait for some fictional utopia. We need to actively seek the change we want in the world. What does that look like for me or you? No clue. But I'm ready.

Short Stories

The Blanket
A couple of weeks ago I posted this on Facebook:

Maybe I spend too much time with my yarn? Last night I dreamed that I was eating at some fancy pasta place but I got kicked out because I added (bright yellow!) acrylic yarn to my pasta & at this restaurant you were only allowed to use 100% cotton yarn. Yes, I was actually in a restaurant EATING yarn. What. The. Heck.

I knew that I was close to being out of yellow yarn for this darn temperature blanket, but I don't think my subconscious should have been that upset about it!

Here's a recent picture.

The Phone
The other day I was rushing to leave my office when I couldn't find my phone in my purse. The horror! Um, it was in my hand. So you can imagine how hard I laughed when I saw this:

Water
I downloaded an app to help me drink more water (Plant Nanny). As I give the plants more water they grow & change. It is weirdly fascinating.

My Face
A couple of weeks ago I was putting drops in my ears & thought I looked all artsy so I took a picture. And then I made it my Facebook profile picture. Yes, I am wearing no makeup. Anyway, I turned my head to do the other ear & thought about taking a picture from that side, but I looked like a stroke victim. VERY WEIRD. No, I didn't save that picture.

Wordless Wednesday - the Girl Can Dream Edition

Flat Paper Folded

I spent time today

making dozens of

origami cranes –

flat paper folded

into life with a tug

on each paper tail.

They soared across

my desk, mingling

with Oreo crumbs

and hope.

All my Hopes and Dreams...

I'm in a bit of a blogging funk lately (well, frankly it's not just blogging - I feel amazingly unmotivated at the moment). I assume that I'll snap out of it at some point. In the meantime, I've written a post for Rachel Fox's new blog all our hopes and dreams. Here's a snippet:

When I was a child I thought like a child, with a child’s preoccupation with her own needs. My world was about 5 miles square, and I hoped that my cousin Kim could spend the night, and I prayed that Mama & Daddy would let us “do” church at home on Sunday instead of trying to put on those tights...

To read the rest (and see the tights in question), go here.

P.S. Rachel is actively seeking submissions for this blog - everyone is welcome! Just email her a contribution (in any form... poem, prose, song, photo, story, notes...) to admin@crowd-pleasers.net.

Busy busy busy…

I’ve been working on a big project at work & it’s using my WHOLE BRAIN. Sheesh. I haven’t really had time to read my usual blogs. And there’s certainly no brain left to write anything for this space. Of course it’s not keeping me from writing whatever this will end up being.

The other morning I fell asleep after Dr. M’s alarm went off (I get to sleep a half hour more). During that brief time I dreamed that my father-in-law was really worried that I would be late for work. And of course in the dream I couldn’t find the shower – and when I did find it, it was filled with other people. This is pretty typical – except for the presence of my father-in-law, which was quite odd because he doesn’t usually find his way inside my dreams. However, his worrying about me getting to work is typical – he’s a worrier.

I helped Dr. M mow the yard yesterday. Here’s his Facebook status afterward: “Giving a shout-out to my wonderful wife who helped me mow the lawn! A year ago, she was struggling to walk. Now, baby's got a brand new hip! Going to take that thang for a spin, soon, sinking our toes into some beach sand ♥” I used to mow a lot when I was a kid – and at our first home after we were married – but it’s been a while since it was a regular part of my life. I plan on using it for exercise purposes this summer – ha!

We’ve planned a trip to the beach at the end of the month. Then we’re heading to NC to celebrate my father-in-law’s birthday. Hey – maybe that’s why I dreamed about him. I wonder if my head will still be attached to my shoulders then?

This cell is merged with

that cell.

And you wish it weren’t

but there it is

so have to un-merge it

so your spreadsheet

will make sense.

And then I can delete

that extra row.

And maybe make the

whole thing a lovely shade

of blue.

You know, if you

make one more

change, my head

will come clean

off my shoulders

And then where will you be?

[Note: I’m grousing, but really I live for projects like this. I’ll just be glad when it’s done – ha!]

You Can't Come Home Again

I had the dream again.
My great joy.
Your infinite sadness.
It was Joyce Summers
come home to Altamont:
Not really you.
Not really here.

I always wish for the moon
when I meet you in dreams
and you always hand it to me
craters and all.

Taking a Dip

Last night I dreamed.
I dreamed and it was
Chaos and Confusion
and you.

Well, the you
who inhabits
such dreams.
Diligently tending
the wounded
you sent me away.

You sent me away
and told me to swim.
Drench my pain and
bathe my boredom
with cool clear chlorine.

In my dream I felt
your love & concern
and a mother’s
impatience to get
me out from underfoot

Listening to my mother
for a change,
I slid into the water.

Considering Last Night's Dream

In my dream, my mother is downstairs waiting for me. She’s probably ironing. I don’t remember what was going on in the dream – I had to finish doing something before I could go down to talk to my her. I had a question to ask her.

I wonder what the question was? Even as I dream I think, “Remember this!” But I awaken and it fades away while I grasp at wisps. I can almost see them floating away.

Today I’m thinking about the dream & remembering a pair of pants folded over a chair – they need ironing in the worst way. I’m wondering if I will do that task tonight, and if I will wash the sheets, and maybe dust as well.

I’m also wondering if my reluctance to do these tasks is more than just sloth on my part. Am I rebelling against my mother when I don’t keep a tidy house? She’s been gone five years. In addition, I am forty six years old. I think it’s time for all the demons buried in my psyche to just grow up already.

But the dream wasn’t about housekeeping. I’m pretty sure. It was probably about the accumulation of five years worth of things to tell my mother. Only my subconscious really knows.

I wish my subconscious was a little more forthright. I’m kind of a literal girl. At this rate it could take eons before I know what’s going on - & by then we’ll be on a whole other topic.

I wonder what I’ll dream about tonight? Probably about booking an appointment with a therapist!

Uh Oh Spaghetti-O

Last night during a reprieve from coughing and blowing my nose, I dreamed that I was eating spaghetti. I took a big bite, and chomped down on a cough drop. Ewww! For the rest of the night I dreamed or thought about how disgusting that would be. Tomato sauce with a hint of "Vapor Action." Even now I shudder in revulsion.

And of course I had to share my revulsion with all my readers because that's me. If you met me in person you would quickly realize that not only do I not have a filter for things I say, but that I think that all the things I'm thinking about are fascinating. I over share. Just a tad.

Once, when I was doing the sermon on Youth Sunday (boy those folks LOVED me - I was the soul of brevity, so no problem at all with getting out of church in time to beat the lunch crowd), I may have mentioned that our family sometimes skipped church because we were tired. And that on those days my parents had us read a story out of the Children's Bible. Afterward, my dad said that people liked a woman of mystery. That I did not need to share everything that was in my head. Really.

And now I feel like I've shared that story on here already. But my cold is keeping me from caring enough to go back and look.

Anyway, the point is that I had to tell you the spaghetti and cough drop story. Because, Woman of Mystery? Is not me.

Hmmm - you know what I'm really craving for dinner tonight?