Random Thoughts

I can’t be the only one feeling down. And stressed. And nervous. And angry. And confused. And just about every other negative emotion that could be listed. There is just so much ANGST in the world right now, especially with the upcoming elections in the US.   And sometimes (at least for deep feelers like myself) it just feels like a little too much to bear. But then I get a reminder. A reminder that even in the midst of all of these sleepless nights and fret – there IS good in the world. I got 2 reminders recently, and I thought I should share them in case you haven’t had any.   I don’t know, I guess with the hopes that the reminders I came across will help boost your spirits a bit, too. Here’s the first one. This hat. We came home the other day and this was hanging on our front doorknob.   Now, we have had a LOT of things left on our porch over the years – rusty cans of soup, brand new snow boots, and everything in between – but this was t

Blessed. Ugh. I have had issues with that word since before I can remember. Blessed. It makes me feel so, I don’t know, cringy. To me, it signifies that I, as the “blessed”, am in a better position than someone else.   More elevated.   More healthy.   More rich.   More children.   More talented.   Whatever IT is – I have more of IT – because you see, I.   Am.   Blessed. Because when you think about it, for someone to qualify as “blessed”, someone else has to be lower, beneath them, “unblessed” you could say.   Because if we were ALL blessed, then we would be equal, and then that sort of defeats the purposed of blessed , right? I dislike the term so much that once my sister gave me a tacky hot pad from the Dollar Tree that said “blessed”.   Only, because she knew my opinion of the word, she used a black Sharpie to cross that out with a circle and a slash, signifying “unblessed” I guess.   I liked it.   I think it is still in our dishtowel drawer. So, “H

When I was a kid, I wanted to be Nancy Duncan when I grew up. I didn’t want to be LIKE HER, I wanted to BE her. She was my hero. And it is because of her that I know to call her a hero (and not a heroine). You see, Nancy Duncan was the first feminist I ever met. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time.   It was around 1976, which would make me 10 years old, and I was smack dab in the middle of the Midwest in Omaha, Nebraska.   Nancy Duncan was my theatre teacher, my director, and (like I mentioned), my hero . Everything about her was perfect in my eyes.   Her wavy, messy hair.   Her loud laugh.   Her funky, multi-layered clothing.   Her smile.   Her genuine way of caring for those around her.   Her wit.   And her kindness.   I was just one of hundreds (thousands?) of kids she taught and directed.   I am sure nothing stood out about me that made me special in her eyes.   But in my eyes, oh in my eyes , Nancy Duncan was who I wanted to be when I grew up.

I had the sweetest thing happen to me today.   It reminded me of the importance of COMMUNITY.   I share it here in case you, too, need a reminder of how surrounding yourself with caring humans can make your world a better place. Someone knocked on our front door this morning.   This is not unusual, our home has become a “community center” of sorts and we get a lot of doorbell rings and knocks. This time when I went to answer the door, I was greeted by a Pantry guest that I know as “Mr. Corned Beef”.   I call him this (not to his face, it is my nickname for him) because his favorite thing to get at the pantry is….   You guessed it - corned beef!   Now, Mr. Corned Beef doesn’t usually come to the door.   He stops by the pantry periodically and gets what he needs, then moves on.   If I see him out there I often pop out to say hello (and ask if he needs corned beef, which he usually does).   We’ve had some nice conversations.   He is a very snazzy dresser, and when I remarked about t

Do you ever get into a “holding pattern” of deep thought?   Like, just pondering things in your head, “big” things, things you will not find an answer to (because, frankly, there are no answers) but you still can’t shake the thought of them? I do. You probably could’ve guessed that, eh?   I mean, if I DIDN’T, then why would I have raised the question here, right? Maybe I have been in the over-thinking cycle (and, let’s be honest, the sadness cycle) because of everything going on in the world.   I mean – WARS.   People dying.   An upcoming election that I honestly can see no good outcome in.   Poverty.   People with no housing, not enough food…   If I think about it too long, I can find myself in a vortex of darkness. A few years ago, I met a man that I now admire from afar.   He is living with brain cancer, and I crossed paths with him at a brain cancer event shortly after my sister died of glioblastoma.   His name is Adam Hayden and he is a rock star.   He is well know