Once upon a time I managed a Hallmark Shop.
Valentine’s Day is the biggest holiday for card sales. Heart Day is bigger than Christmas and Mother’s Day and Easter and, of course, bigger than Father’s Day. Poor Daddy just can’t compete with the others, sad but true.
The day before and the day of Valentine’s are the biggest days for sales. Well, the day after Christmas is the biggest day but retailers hate that day because all the Christmas stock flies out the door half price. Anyway, the day before/of Valentine’s is the craziest day. Getting the perfect Valentine card is difficult, although, for some people (men, not all men but many of them) it’s just a major chore to muddle through.
Some folks will read every card and torture themselves with indecision. Others pop in and grab a card and off they go. Some ask for advise. Then there are those (men again) who come rushing in the day after Valentine’s Day with fear and panic in their eyes looking for the perfect Valentine card to make up for the fact they forgot to give one on Valentine’s Day. Honestly, there is no perfect card for that mistake!
I remember one year an older lady, probably in her 70’s, came into the shop and after browsing the cards for a while came to me and asked which card of the two or three she had chosen said what she wanted to say but not say too much. She had a gentleman friend she had been spending time with as “good friends” but she wanted to bring the friendship up “a notch”. The problem was she wasn’t sure if the gentleman felt the same and did not want her card to scare him off. If he did not feel the same way she still wanted them to be good friends. We read the cards and talked about them and after some consideration she decided which one said just enough and not too much. She came in several weeks later and told me that she and the gentleman were now very good friends. I often think of her. How wonderful to be still like a girl in love when you are in your 70’s.
Today, I wish all who read this a Happy Valentine’s Day.
And guys, you still have a couple of hours before the stores close.
Most individuals have found God most clearly in and through others. The love of others is the love of God experienced in this life. Wendy Wright
I was in quite a tizzy yesterday morning. I could not find my glasses. That may not seem like a really big deal to you unless like me you can’t see more than a foot in front of you without your specs. My glasses are usually on my face, if not there then on top of my head. About the only time I don’t have my glasses attached to me is when I am sleeping, then they are on the table next to the bed.
I have worn glasses since I was eight. That’s a long time and in all that time, even as a little girl, I have never lost my glasses. It took me probably fifteen minutes to find them. I was beginning to panic. I mean I knew they had to be in the house but without them on my face it was hard to see to find them. Then I was afraid to sit down in case I had put them on a chair or the sofa. Walking around also was a bit troublesome; what if I had dropped them on the floor and stepped on them?
Obviously, I did find my precious spectacles. They were on the sofa under the newspaper. Good thing I didn’t sit there to think about where they were. I don’t remember taking them off and I guess I didn’t really notice I didn’t have them on until I was looking for my earrings and realized that my morning was fuzzier than usual . Kinda scary, huh?
Getting old is very interesting. Someday I will tell you about almost going to the store in my jammies. Bet you can hardly wait.
When I started blogging it was just something that was interesting and a bit challenging. I had never written much and when I did I would not keep it and I certainly didn’t want to show it to anyone. Now with about a year and a half of blogs out there in cyber-space for all to see I am almost ready to call myself a writer. As in someone who writes things worth the time it takes to read it.
I know that what I write is not “literature”. I know there are lots of grammar and punctuation (if in doubt use a comma) mistakes and hopefully, not too many spelling errors. Thank you spell check even though you are not perfect—but then who is? How I write is pretty much who I am, easy-going, funny, curious, serious when need be, fairly transparent.
What has surprised me on this blogging adventure is that I found I like writing. More surprising is that other people like what I write. I know this because I get comments on my posts. Not every post but enough to be encouraged. And some people have subscribed which means they want to know when something new is out there. That is simply amazing and quite humbling.
Today, I am thankful that after looking for a long time I very unexpectedly found something that engages me and energizes me. I am thankful that others read what I write and even though it is nothing exceptional and sometimes just nonsense they enjoy it and come back to read some more.
speaking joyfully or on joyful matters
Love is a fabric that never fades, no matter how often it is washed in the waters of adversity and grief.
I think I may be an addict. To be an addict is to give oneself over to something habitually or compulsively to the detriment of well-being. My well-being seems to be ok so far, so maybe I am just in the beginning stages of this. But I think I can call it an addiction all the same. Well, maybe not hard-core yet but could be if I am not careful. Sort of like being a functional alcoholic.
I have a love of books, the written word.
This is something that it seems I must do, read. I get irritable and impatient and just plain wonky when I don’t have time to read. I don’t know if others notice or not. No one has asked me about it so maybe this is a hidden addiction.
There are times I do not shower or get dressed or answer the phone or doorbell. I do not leave my chair except to get something to eat. I also drink a lot of Coke and iced tea and Chai tea latte while in my state of bliss so there are the frequent potty breaks. I will stay up all night, or almost all night, then be miserable in the morning when the alarm starts its nonsense. I am still pleasant in the morning but I do need a nap in the afternoon.
This is not new for me, even as a child I loved reading and preferred it to any other activity. I did do other things, I wasn’t, and am not, anti-social or anything. I do have other interests but none above words.
Maybe because I am getting old(er) reading is even more a delight because it doesn’t take a lot of energy, doesn’t make you sweat, doesn’t make your muscles sore. Reading can be done in comfort with little required other than light and a chair. If there is light and a place to sit I can happily enter my “zone” and leave the world to its pursuits without my two cents added.