Sundays in my house


Top of the morning to ya! Aahhhh . . . (yes, that’s me, exhaling a happy sound, coffee in one hand, cupcake in the other, stretching my legs out in front of the computer and the window, watching the sun ascend over the San Fernando Valley).

Sundays are such great days, aren’t they? I love its sluggish pace, its gentle breezes, and the way it stills the noisy chatter of the world to this peaceful quiet that I can hear the rush of my breath as it whumps in and out. Double aahhhh . . .

Yes, this is the one day when the universe and I are one. And no matter where I’m standing, it will always signify the end of one week, the beginning of another while looking outwardly from that pinnacle crossroads at all I’ve yet to accomplish, at all I hope I will.

While I’ve come to realize that at the end of the day it doesn’t matter much, for any of us, that who we aspired to be, didn’t happen. Because ultimately that person in the mirror staring back, is the person you’re supposed to be. You are the results of all those cataclysmic experiences—good, bad or indifferent. Anything more … well, those things will have to go back into the bucket list for Monday. Or perhaps that rainy day. Whichever comes first.

So there you have it. My thoughts and my for-whatever-the-hell-it’s-worth grandmotherly advice on this beautiful Sunday. Eat that piece of cake lovey! Live a little!

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