It’s “Everything You Do Is Right” Day! What a surprising and pleasant change that will be! Although I didn’t stab anyone yesterday on the Ides of March so I’m already on a roll if you think about it. And it’s St. Patrick’s Day Eve. Should we be setting out pots for the leprechauns to fill up with gold? Or rummaging through our closets in search of something green? I do have Irish roots on my maternal grandfather’s side of the family but have never been tempted to drink green beer. So genes don’t determine everything.
My astrological forecast says I’ll probably spend the day reviewing old issues, or trying to close the book on past matters. It also tells me I have a house of secrets and self created problems. Hmmph. I kind of hate it when they’re right. Have to keep telling myself I can’t change screwed up people, I can only change my reaction to whatever screwed up things they do. I’m sure there’s a much more eloquent way to phrase that, but it’s too early in the day to get all clever.
The Pulled Pork concoction I made yesterday was amazingly good, but we’ll be eating it for a week due to my inability to fill any cooking pot only half way to the top. I also shook up some fresh salad dressing in a cruet (another part of my Epicure order). Two things later and I’m pretty much hooked on their stuff. Next up I’m going to try making some vegetable dip, substituting plain greek yogurt for sour cream. After all that I probably won’t creatively cook another thing for a month. I reach kitchen overload rather quickly these days.
Here’s a little brain game challenge for the day, taken from www.creativitygames.net where there’s all kinds of ways to work away at honing your writing skills. Or lack thereof.
There are 6 words listed below. In how many ways can you form a connection of the first word with every other word?
Being a feisty old lady with a mind of her own, Bella decided to throw a hissy fit and reject the new wheelchair the home had ordered specially made for her. Because….well, because – it was sadly lacking a chain with which to secure it to the hallway handrails. (It’s not a bicycle, the nurse patiently explained. No one will steal it.) Well, it would definitely make it much more difficult to take wild swings at old Mr. Crouch down the hallway when he annoyed the hell out of her. Sitting in that thing. Boxing from a wheelchair! So undignified. (Yes, the nurse had to agree with her on that one. But perhpas she should consider giving up the boxing matches altogether.) Bella wanted to shout at the silly woman. Mr. Crouch would have no excitement in his day at all if he no longer had to figure out new and better ways to avoid her. But she was being unceremoniously plunked into the chair and strapped up, feet secured on the rests, head supported, butt surprisingly comfy surrounded by all that plush. The urge to shout was replaced with a rather sudden desire to lift her chin in a regal fashion, look down her nose at her kneeling attendant, and then, as she was being wheeled down the hallway towards the dining room, to lift her hand in a royal wave to Mr. Crouch, cowering in his doorway. She felt like a queen on a throne. Well, this is quite wonderful she told her nurse. I’m so glad I thought of it, aren’t you? (Delighted, said the nurse, depositing her at her table and going off to fetch Mr. Crouch now that his nemesis, for the time being at least, had been effectively distracted and disarmed.)
Well, after all that, I don’t think I’ve actually done what they asked me to do, but I’ll humor the feisty old lady in me and let it be. Because everything I do today is right, remember? Don’t forget it. I have a wicked left hook if you do.