One Double-Tall-Cup-of-Kindness, please.

20130129-220027.jpg It has been a rough week. I’m finding myself in a very emotionally unstable place. Probably shouldn’t even be driving. Everything in my path just seems to be an accident waiting to happen.

It has been hard making it to (and through) work. I am distracted, forgetful, tearful, an emotional time-bomb. So today at lunch I went to Starbucks, my saving grace, to reward myself. I pulled up toward the drive-thru and there was some lady, half pulled-over, half blocking the entrance, on her phone. Net result? I couldn’t tell if she was in line. Because she was on the phone, she didn’t react to my questioning hand gestures, so when the car in front of her moved, and she didn’t, I pulled forward, around her. This didn’t go over well. Apparently she was in line. Continue reading

The luxury of life. (And camping.)

DevilsLakeI’ve always loved camping. And I mean the real thing. As in, hiking, backpacking, and sleeping in a tent – not rolling up to the campground in a house on wheels.

First of all, I think it plays into some maternal instincts. Organize the gear, prepare the food, pitch the tent, fluff the sleeping bags. And realizing, there is so much you can easily live without. It’s fun to nest, and when you do it in nature, without a gizmo for every gazmo, you actually get creative. Using flat beach rocks to create a path to the tent, or little pine cones to write a love note, or a stick…the simplest but most useful of tools, sharpened and honed, just waiting to skewer a puffy marshmallow, or poke a friend. Or stab at a fish, for dinner. Ha ha, that would be stretching the truth, dinner comes from a can.
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