The eyes are the window to the soul…mirrors to the soul. So what about when one is no longer real?
It’s about that time. Soon it will be time to have a new artificial eye made. It’s made me think more about the whole thing again.
August is here and if I make it through the next month I’ll be a happy camper. So much pressure not to mess up and let myself and others down.
I’m thankful for the first day of August and a very special birthday.
My nephew turned four and will be starting school next month. Time flies by.
He had a dinosaur themed birthday with his mom, dad, big sister, and grandma.
We will celebrate next weekend. He is always so excited to show us any new toys he’s gotten since we last saw him when we first arrive. His spirit is one of contagious joyfulness.
I’m thankful for a more successful violin lesson where I could stretch my fingers, develop more strength and flexibility in learning a new part.
I’m thankful for a delicious and satisfying late lunch out.
A veggie omelet, Greek salad, and a cold Coke. Mmm. Strange combination maybe, but it hit the spot on such a hot day and after my lesson.
I’m thankful for the reception I got when I brought my old artificial eye into writing group.
I thought it might make for an interesting mystery object for people to try and write about.
Most people were fascinated to see one up close. One was horrified. I understand the reactions because I’ve seen them all before and have had them all myself.
People wrote humorous stories, horror stories, and to-be-continued stories.
I ended up writing a story that I didn’t expect. It seemed to reflect back at me, all the feelings I’ve had about having lost my left eye and had, what most times is this secret thing, until I reveal it to people. Or, unless they are able to notice it first. I don’t know how often.
I’m thankful for the chance to get more comfortable and challenge my old fear of used clothes.
My hair cut at my cousin’s salon ended with my sister helping me pick out some items from the small boutique as part of the facilities offered.
My cousin believes in recycling because she loves fashion and style, but she’s seen how much clothing waste takes place and she searches out the finds to be had in secondhand stores and sells them for low prices to her already loyal customers.
These are nice looking things and they’re often hardly even worn. I have a long standing phobia of secondhand things and I am challenging that still. I did find some great stuff, including a hoodie, tights, and a few tops and tanks to go with them.
I’m thankful for the happy sounds my niece is starting to make more and more as she approaches six months.
She’s growing far too fast for any of us, but with that comes more exciting milestones.
Sitting in my lap this week she was making a lot more sounds while reaching and looking, interacting and reacting.
She has rolled over and I swear she is eager to get moving.
I’m thankful for a successful second radio show where my brother did a lovely thing for a friend.
He dedicated a song to a poor, departed cat who changed my brother’s opinion of cats as a species.
RIP to a friendly cat.
I’m thankful for bowls and towels.
It’s been raining a lot lately and it’s a good thing we’re set to get a new roof put on this house any day now.
There are several leaks at this point, which have been happening for years, but now when it rains I listen for the drip drip sound inside, while listening to the pounding of the heavy rain out my window.
It’s not supposed to rain indoors. I am still lucky to have a roof over my head that keeps me dry, except for when I stand under those few leaks to lay down the towels and bowls and the drips land in my hair, along with a soggy layer of my ceiling.
I’m thankful for my cat stepping on my sore legs and purring that provides pain relief.
I’m thankful for a cool Friday night amongst humid days.
Getting my TToT in early this week, for a change, doesn’t happen often. I think I just need to work on accepting a lot of life for what and how it is.
“The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.”
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow