Wandering through Target, checking out the holiday goodies and displays, and I saw their plastic tableware along the main aisle.
Before I could even be intrigued, I saw that someone else had already put this smaller plate on top of the large charger, and I loved how it looked. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t change it. I simply photographed it, and went on my merry way.
I hope to use this as inspiration for a simpler holiday; something quiet and unobtrusive that has meaning without forcing it to have meaning.
When I was in high school, I went through periods of binge-watching different movies with the same actor to see their filmography, although I didn’t call it that at the time.
Errol Flynn
Katharine Hepburn
Claudette Colbert
Harrison Ford
Alan Rickman
Robert Redford
Of course.
Three Days on the Condor, Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid, The Sting, All the Presidents’ Men, many others. Not just his acting but his directing, his exposure of issues. Ordinary People and Thunderheart come to mind as well as narrating the documentary, Incident at Oglala. Those last two changed my life and were major contributions to my activism.
Looking at him onscreen and in still images was like staring into the sun, or a shining star – too bright to look at too long or too intently, but not able to look away either. He was more than handsome. He was magnificent. As California Governor Gavin Newsom said, he was a son of California, and it was obvious from his full head of blond hair, deep tan, active, outdoorsy lifestyle. He was wholesome. His whole face showed what was on the inside, and it made you want to move closer, not away.
As people online said, I think we all thought Robert Redford was here forever, not quite immortal, but not mortal either. I recently re-watched All the Presidents’ Men, and I plan to watch it again this weekend. I’ll also watch Sneakers for the first time as that was recommended today as well.
As someone said earlier, we all hope that when we pass, we’ll be talked about and remembered as we are remembering Robert Redford today.
As I was walking into my house a couple of days ago, my eye caught this feather sticking out of the grass. I can’t imagine what kind of bird it came from; I’ve never seen those colors around here before, but I really thought it was beautiful.
I stopped to take a picture.
I’ve always been told not to pick up feathers because they’re often dirty – the feathers are shed when the bird defecates, so I left it there, figuring that maybe another bird will collect it to feather their nest.
When I went out the next morning, it was still there.
I decided that I should take it after all. I picked it up with a napkin, and when I got to work washed it off, and let it dry on my desk.
I’m going to add it to my new journal as part of my new project of “gathering the fragments” that came up during my recent retreat.
I feel twisted like a pretzel, trying to get my goals organized and sorted and focus on the many things that need to be done.
Overall, I think I’ve done okay. The one success I can see is not hitting the snooze button. I’m still pressing snooze but not as often. This is definitely a good thing.
I’ve been working on my presentation for next week, and the good news is that all of the work for that is also useful for my book.
I do need to crack down on my Cursillo responsibilities though.
I need to reschedule a couple of medical appointments in the next few weeks, and I need to plan our family vacation.
Today is the Feast Day of Julian of Norwich. I first became familiar with her when my new-to-me parish priest quoted her, and I found that it was eerily similar to my own mantra, “It’ll be okay.”
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing be well.
She was an anchoress and mystic, locked in a cell for prayer and contemplation. Her writings are the earliest surviving works in English and attributed to a woman.
Two years before I learned of her, Pope Benedict XVI spoke of her in his General Audience in Paul VI Hall on the 1st of December, 2010. It can be read here.
You can also visit her shrine in Norwich, England.
Yesterday was a challenge for many of us: those that have challenging mothers, challenging children, mothers who are absent whether by a choice or by death, and everyone, I mean everyone is wishing any woman in sight a ‘happy mother’s day,’ whether they need to or not. It is the society we live in where every day must mean something extra – Mexican food on Cinco de Mayo, Bosses’ Day, Nurses’ Week, Wednesday is Hump Day. Each day has a bit more to include and sometimes exclude.
So how do we cope when we are challenged by these days?
I try to go with the flow. It’s not always easy. My family asks what I want to do on my day. Where do I want to eat? What do I want them to get me? What do I want to do, all day, every minute of this special, special day?
And I’m grateful, I truly am that they want to actually spend time with me, but on the other hand, I’m the cruise director all year. Every day. I’d like a day off. You know what I like. Just pick a place. Just get a token thing. Sign a card. I really don’t have any requirements. I mean, we like cake, so I’d like a cake. A cupcake is good, too. I love cupcakes. Vanilla cupcake. Vanilla frosting. Rainbow sprinkles. Seriously, I’m boring and easy.
And if you’re not boring, your family knows that too.
If you’re not into the whole eating out thing, order in. Get a pizza.
If you’re not into celebrating, stay home and read a book.
Whatever it is that makes you happy or at least content, make your wishes known.
And if it’s not perfect, they tried…take yourself out on Monday…and don’t tell anyone.
I had an enjoyable Mother’s Day, and when I got irritated, I removed myself from the situation. I walked away. Not in a tantrum, not in a snit, I just left and let the rest of them communicate.
No one’s fault, but my Monday, this morning, was not great. I had a misstep on the last step, the one I fell off two years ago and broke two ribs. I stayed upright this time and slammed myself into the front door. That was actually the plan to keep me upright, and it worked. I did twist my knee, but it’s feeling better as the day goes on.
Then I set up a pickup order at Starbucks. I like their blackberry sage refresher, and I’d like it before they get rid of it for the season. I also got my boss a cherry chai that she had been admiring. I went to pick it up. They didn’t have it. It turned out that I put the order in at a different Starbucks about seven miles away, and in the opposite direction from work.
I texted my boss, apologizing, and saying I’d be late.
Picked up the order, a lovely woman held the door open for me (kudos to her kindness), and I get to work…and my boss can’t have caffeine.
I was then told it is a full moon.
And a Monday.
I always think of Adam West’s Batman on days like this: Sometimes, you just can’t get rid of a bomb.
*shrug*
Let’s hope the rest of the day floats along happily or at least doesn’t sink messily.
New dragonfly earrings. New Spring Things for my Desk – Living on the Hedge. Forsythia in Vase. Cardinal in my backyard. It stayed a long time. (c)2025
This is the feast day of St. Kateri Tekakwitha. She died on this day in 1680 at twenty-four years of age. Since that time, miracles have known to have occurred through her intercession. In two more days, is the anniversary of my own conversion.
I’m looking forward to the celebration of her feast day in the US in July, and my visit to this shrine and her tomb in June, partly for intensive research, but also hopefully to attend mass while we’re there.
A family piece that’s come down from my mother. A Rabbi, praying. (c)2024
This is the first part of a three-part series. The impetus was something I read in Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, which I will reflect on in the last part. Part One delves into my childhood, growing up Jewish in what I consider a fairly religious household, although it was less religious than my grandparents’ households that my parents grew up in. Looking back, it is certainly more religious than I raised my own kids in, and that will be discussed in Part Two. Part Three, funny enough is the part I wrote first, but then kept expanding and writing and re-writing, and realized there was more backstory than I could fit into that section. I hope you enjoy reading about my past lives, and my reflections and reconciliations with who I am today and how I became that person, at least in this one aspect of my life.
Griffins and Ginger Snaps 