Breaking Bad Mood

Clump #93:  Finish the writing part of Christmas cards.

I was talking to a good friend who reads this blog.  She said I was making her feel badly about her lack of progress on her holiday preparations, adding, “I feel like we’ve switched ourselves around.” Usually she is organized and ahead of the game, while I am chronically the opposite, in every way.  I really want to make clear that I am not sailing along smoothly.  I am still feeling pretty overwhelmed.  The motto of this challenge should be: “If I can do this, anyone can.”

Even the challenge of 30-days, 30-clumps, 30-posts has been a bit much lately.  Last night I could not stand to read one sentence I wrote. Delete, delete, delete.  Delete.  I don’t have the luxury of trying again tomorrow when nothing goes right.  Only while getting ready for bed, with disappointment still palpable, it dawned on me that I was trying to write words alongside the Gettysburg Address, one of the most famous and powerful collections of sentences, ever.

I went out into the world today not being able to shake the bad vibe, but fortunately I had planned to visit my mom.  Everything was hurting my feelings.  “I want my Mommy!”  Whenever the conversation would get to a point where my mom would be justified in making a negative pronouncement, she would say, “Well, we’ll see how it all works out.” Her iron-clad positivity was the perfect antidote to my petty wounds.  We went outside for a bit and enjoyed the last tree there still holding onto its glorious leaves:


On the way home I stopped to photograph some goats.  A woman came out, and I asked permission to take a few pictures.


She said sure, and was very nice.  She even pointed out one goat who smiles:


She went back into the house, and I took a moment to capture a picture of some barn cats nearby.  Suddenly the door opened, and the (same?) woman was yelling that she was going to let her dogs out.  I said, “What?”  She replied, I don’t like anyone getting close to my barn.” “Oh, Sorry!”  And off I went.  Sicking the dogs on me?  I tried to explain her bipolar behavior by joking to myself that she must have a meth lab in the barn.

The goats seemed sad to see me go.


I know there are people fighting for their lives in the Philippines and elsewhere, and my little bumps and bruises are minuscule in comparison.  I’m trying to take a cue from the dear, dapper goose I pass every week.  Today’s outfit spoke of letting things roll off one’s shoulders.  Even with a coat of sturdy feathers, sometimes you need extra reinforcement.



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