One more day til the weekend. One more weekend before Christmas. Boy, life sure does fly the older you get, doesn't it? I often wonder if the remainder of the days of my life are going to be joyful. Maybe everybody does this very easily, all the time, and only I am confused. And if you asked me if I wanted more joyful experiences in my life, I wouldn’t be at all sure I did, exactly because it proves such a hard emotion to manage. I do experience at least a little pleasure every day. I wonder if this is more than the usual amount. It was the same even in my childhood when most people are miserable. I don’t think this is because so many wonderful things happen to me but its really the small things that go a long way. I seem to get more than the ordinary satisfaction out of food, for example. Even an egg salad sandwich has the power to turn my day around. Whatever is put in front of me, foodwise, usually brightens my mood. I actually eat what I cook because I love to cook. I cook every weekend, and I love to try new recipes! Enough. I never stop thinking about food. Crazy.
But let me tell ya, I won’t be experiencing joy when I rejoin, for the millionth time, Weight Watchers in a week or so! J
|Elvis - he has floppy ears|
|Mr. Fluffy Pants|
We had a dusting of snow overnight. It was cold this morning. Charlie spent the night in my bathroom and was very hungry this morning but I couldn’t feed him because he is going in for his neuter today. The other babies that are in need of rescue – Peanut Butter, Gigi (the female on Garson), Elvis, Mr. Fluffypants, all ran to me, hoping for me to whisk them to warmth, safety and love. I did pick up Peanut Butter, as he runs to greet me before I even open the car door, and I placed him on the hood of the car to give him good rub on his head. And Gigi cries each time I walk towards her, hungry and cold. She is not eartipped, but has never been pregnant. She is an obvious stray. She is now homeless, and I must find her a home. Elvis, from Central, is a big black and white softie, constantly rubbing against my hands as I pour his breakfast onto the plate. Mr. Fluffypants will not be so lucky someday as he scurries across the busy road to greet me, as I pour the food behind the house on Pennsylvania. All have a special place in my heart – a place that fuels my fire to rescue each and every one of them.
Please spread the word about these angels.
Have a great day!
“The smallest act of kindness is worth more
than the grandest intention.”