I (Heart) Mondays

...because I began the day with Vivaldi's Concerto in C Major for Violin, a bubble bath, loving thoughts of friends and family, none of whom I have to cook for or to clean up after.

Looking down on clouds

A trip is always a great opportunity for re-viewing yourself, your world.  Yesterday, flying to Seattle, that was a simple pleasure:  looking down on clouds. 

 Of course it is a three-part metaphor:  rising above, looking down, and then going through clouds to get back to earth.

When does a trip begin?

Seriously.  When?  When you make the plane reservations, start planning, begin to think about not being where you are?  Does a trip begin when you back out of the driveway, hit the city limits, or when you land on the tarmack at Seatac?

Does it begin when you get there?  And where, exactly, does "there" begin?

Your Frontal Lobe Forces You to Think Ahead

Thinking about the coming week, rummaging around to find the right attitude, as if it were an accessory in a jumbled jewelry box.

Keeping Your Word

All my life, he said, I been witness to people showin' up where they was supposed to be at various times after they'd said they'd be there.  I never heard one yet that didn't have a reason for it.

Yessir

You know what it is?

No sir.

It's that their word's no good.  That's the only reason there ever was or ever will be.

Yessir.

from The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy

My father had a saying that amounts to the same thing:  "There's no such thing as a good excuse."