Idle Thought of the Evening to Cheer You Up

If that old photo of me on the board with that cute man riding the waves doesn't cheer you up, then maybe this idle thought that I just had as I lay on Sophie's bed in her room will. I know everyone is feeling incredibly glum. Nervous, Anxious. Nauseous. Filled with anger. Overflowing with lassitude. A deep sense of futility.

I'll remind you, though, of that time Bush won the presidential election the second time.

Remember that? Remember that morning, especially those of you in Los Angeles who walked into the preschool parking lot with me and had to look at the folks who'd been sporting big Ws on their Range Rovers?

Remember how you felt?

Do you feel worse now or better?

I'm feeling so much better that I hauled my old doddering ass off of Sophie's bed, scanned that old photo of myself on the surfboard with the cute man riding the waves and typed out this post.

Come on! Don't you feel a bit better?

The Old Gray Mare, Part 456

God, that's an ugly photo of me, isn't it?

I woke up extra early this morning and lay in my bed reading emails while simultaneously telling myself that I shouldn't lie in bed and read emails but rather go outside, exercise, meditate, bask in gratitude, do a devotional. I read the emails, finding a perverse pleasure in deleting, deleting, deleting, even the news, the expected news that the government was shut down. I heard through the grapevine that a beloved teacher at our school was fired, and I quelled the rising nervousness in my stomach, the uncertainty of the future -- the closed government, the powers that be in every institution, even our little charter school, mistrust -- the growing sense of futility I feel despite a bit of age and experience and, dare I say it -- intelligence? Delete, delete, delete. I texted a friend that I am particularly uninspired of late, and not even blogging, the daily practice of it that so inspired my off-line writing, is working for me. The old gray mare just ain't what she used to be. Ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be. Then I read this, by one of my favorite bloggers, and I'm up out of bed and onward.

Thank you, Pauline.