I’ve been a bad blogger as of late. My apologies.
This month has been tough, for many reasons. My radio silence is intentional – sometimes, even when we want to scream out to the universe, it’s best to remember that a filter isn’t a bad thing. A filter can keep you out of trouble. So do friends. That’s what I’ve been focusing on the past month- connecting with who matters. For my friends who put up with my crap and keep me from destructing (and you know who you are), thank you. Without you I’d probably be trying to figure how to delete my ramblings off of the inter webs, and failing miserably at it.
But, I am happy to report that it appears that I am out of my slump. Time to move forward, and no better day to do it than on a rainy Sunday. This day, Sunday, is superior to all others. It’s the one day of the week that belongs to the soul. There’s no pressure on it. It can be whatever you want it to be. Every now and then you remember that Monday lurks in the periphery, and that makes the moments that much sweeter. Sunday is the day that I put my mind on pause.
Sunday is a day for the little things. A Bloody Mary (or three) with your best friend at your favorite brunch place, not because the food is good, but because they let you build your own Bloody Mary and it is a place that’s set the stage for moments in your friendship. A hike up in Griffith Park, climbing up waterfalls and tasting fresh cactus fruit off the marked trail. The Sun Also Rises, a cup of coffee, and Etta James on the speaker box. A quiet moment in church, realizing that life is bigger than just me, and that life is a series of blessings. A hand tracing the wind outside of the car window, humming along to the oldies station, and smiling at memories of my parents dancing in the kitchen.
I’ll deal with you later, Monday. In the words of my homegirl Scarlet O’Hara: I’ll think about that tomorrow.