If I ever lose my mind & move to the city, I so want to live here:
This song came on the radio just a bit ago and it sums up my Friday attitude:
And random picture of the day to round out the post:
I have resisted using Google Reader or anything like that. I like to be able to see and click through the blogs that I read. I like to see if you've changed your format or theme. Reading blogs in plain text is just kinda boring for me. I like the more personal approach. Soothing colors, pretty pictures! Links to other blogs!
Also, I wasn’t reading enough blogs to justify it in my head. That has now changed. I am afraid that I may have to break down and try a reader. Especially since I alternate between reading at home & reading at work.
While I have a routine that I usually follow, I’ve found that I have been missing some posts, etc. Or I get caught up in reading & forget to comment. This is why you'll occasionally get a flurry of comments from me. What? I don't comment on your blog, how is that possible? I promised I'd try. Leave a link in the comments section if you want me to wander over and randomly comment.
I'm off topic again.
I am afraid that, like the DVR, I will get in a hurry or frustrated and either burn through the posts without truly reading them or get overwhelmed at the amount of posts and heartlessly delete them then miss something fabulous.
Do you use a reader? If so, which one do you use?
Spring has officially arrived. I was looking at the closet the other day & pondering my clothes. I don’t do the Spring/Summer vs. Fall/Winter switch like some people do. I simply don’t have that many clothes or that kind of attention span.
Which made me think about other people’s closets. Of course it did. We have a big-ish walk-in closet. I try to keep it organized, at least as much as a closet can be.
It has shelves above the racks but I try not to pile stuff up there. At least where you can see it when the door is open. I finally broke down & folded a few of Kev’s hoodies simply because they take up so much space & they are his work ones that he doesn’t wear often. So those are up there. And a jewelry box. And a chair massager and a neck massager. And an extra blanket. Hangers. Computer briefcase. Clothes to paint in.
Other than that, there's nothing on the shelves.
Here is what seems to be an odd thing about us: Kevin’s t-shirts are hung up. I am a terrible folder and if they are in drawers, he seems to wear the same four t-shirts versus digging in the drawers to see what is there. So I hang them. It works for us, don't judge.
I always look at the closet and think “We have too many clothes”. Then I scan through everything and sometimes take out a few pieces but usually walk away with a shrug. At least I tried. Kevin, thankfully, doesn't have that strange attachment to clothes like some men do. I can't tell you how many times I've seen something fly out of the closet with a "Get rid of that, it bugs me" announcement.
Also, the one time that I really culled through the closet was right before we left for Vegas and had to send our clothes ahead of us. Thus leaving us with no clothes to wear that weren’t faded, too big/small, or generally unreasonable.
My clothes are sorted by color and type. Yes, I know I have issues. This system allows me to get dressed in a very Garanimals type of way. I could almost get dressed in the dark if I chose. Oh, who am I kidding? I've totally gotten dressed in the dark before.
How do you organize your closet? Fold or hang clothes? Stuff on the floor? Organized or impassable? Shall we call Hoarders?
I heard this on Rosie O'Donnells radio show. After she recited it, someone mentioned that this could be applied to life in general. I couldn't agree more.
It's just a gentle reminder to enjoy the ride, no matter where you land.
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
by Emily Perl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome To Holland".
"Holland?!?" you say, "What do you mean "Holland"??? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy"
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills...Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy...and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned".
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away...because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.
But...if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things...about Holland.
© 1987, by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission of the author.