Would you look at her? The glorious yellow number on the left. She graced the property we stayed at while we were in our cabin that had a hard, dangerous, precarious winding staircase that Cooper refused to navigate. I asked her one morning what the heck we should do and she stared at me for a while before gently saying, “Turn off that Thought Circus of yours and carry your boy up and down that magical, unruly set of steps if that’s what you have to do.”
I think trees give the best advice, don’t you?
Yours In Listening Closely,
I don’t know if you’re aware of this but if you use the phrase “It’s not gonna be all rainbows and unicorns” more than TWICE while in a five minute conversation, this qualifies you to go straight to hell where you will be responsible for tending to people who have bunions.
Don’t Say I Didn’t Try To Warn You,
Sergeant Shush Your Mouth
I know you’re schedy is chalk full of requests for creamy gravy and not-too-salty mashed potatoes right now but if you could see fit, I’d be ever so grateful if you could remind me every other second, that my perspective is all that matters. Like, when I make little brain judgements about how things are going to go as the holidays approach, could you swat me on the head lightly and whisper in my ear that I know nothing? Because I know, in the past, when I’ve been able to open my heart and my mind to the infinite possibilities of, well, all that’s possible I’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover that I’m not steering the boat if you know what I mean. In other words, if you could send me a text or an email or simply a message floating on the wind telling me to keep my big buttinsky butt out of how I think things should go instead of how they are actually going I would be the happiest pilgrim on earth, amen, thanks a billion, you may be seated.
Sometimes on Saturday, after our early morning Walk-PeePee-Doodie-Greenie-Breakfast routine that is followed by a short yet productive battle with several scurvy squirrels, we find that our bones are frozen through to our core. And when this happens we like to spend the afternoon burrowed under our favorite comforter, snoring, only to be awakened by our beloved mother calling us to supper.
Let There Be Blankets,