I’ve got a sink full of dirty dishes and a basket overflowing with clean clothes to put away. There’s (always) toys to pick up and the cupboards are a cluttered mess only one stage shy of total and utter chaos.
But I am sitting here in the near-dark, only the steady glow of my laptop and the flickering flames from my new candle (Havana Nights!) and I am happily typing.
A hot mug of ‘Slumber Nights’ tea, headphones in, listening to Mozart Symphony No.8 in D major and all is right with the world. All is right with my messy, messy world. Oh and I’ve got toothpaste in my hair from Ellie. Yippie, mom-life.
I just finished reading the novel ‘The Crooked Staircase’ by my favorite author Dean Koontz, which is the third installment of his Jane Hawk series and I read it in less than 2 days.
Because…Jane is my hero. Rogue FBI agent, pianist, mom, and all around bad-guys worst nightmare. Love. It.
I don’t have the mental fortitude to research a book like that let alone come up with all the twists and turns it takes to keep a generation like mine interested for more than three nanoseconds but I am very happy Mr Koontz does/is.
I read the book on the drive to Houston for my ‘birthday stay-cation’ and I read it at the pool, then I read it after the kids went to bed, then before they woke up, then all the way back.
Is it too late to join the FBI? Then go rogue and kick butt from here to Albuquerque?
Ah but what I REALLY want to do is just read about it, curled up in my comfy chair with a hot cup of tea even though its 95F degrees outside. Is there anything better than a really good book? One that makes you laugh, and cry, and want to be a better person? One that takes you away from the mundane into a world that sparkles, terrifies, and enlightens?
I have good reason to want to escape into a book lately so it was perfect timing. Some family friends have moved to India this week, and I’m losing another Canadian friend back to the wilds of Toronto next week. People are flying the coop left and right.
A lot of change this season for me and my family. Bill’s job will be changing soon. Benji is starting a Mommies Day out program, and other imperfect situations I will be happy to talk about once I’ve resolved them.
But I’m practicing my three thousand year old ‘Here-Now’ philosophy and my two-thousand year old ‘Be-Still’ (and know that I am God) advice.
I’m not waiting for things to be perfect to enjoy my life right now. I’m not waiting for someone to rescue me from boredom, or drama, or whatever is chewing at my peace of mind at the moment.
I actively look for the joy. If I can’t find joy I look for peace. If I can’t find peace I look out my window at my Willow tree, tall and droopy and beautiful and I am reminded of the fragile beauty I am immersed in every day.
No matter what is happening there is something that reminds me the world is not bent to darkness but to light, not to grief eternal but soothing hours of loneliness broken by bright friendships, kind souls who journey with us for a long time, or a short time. Life isn’t perfect, but it sure is beautiful, and I’m grateful for the time I did have (and maybe will again) with friends new and old.
“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. Marcel Proust.
And in these divisive times, a quote from good ‘ole Tommy-boy:
“I never considered a difference of opinion in politics, in religion, in philosophy, as cause for withdrawing from a friend. Thomas Jefferson.