EXCUSES EXCUSES

Well, that Sugar-Magnolia-mind has not left me all day. (Hal, you can skip this link. I think you heard this song enough when you lived next door to me in the dorms.)

I woke this morning looking up into tree branches limned with snow! Very beautiful, even without my glasses. The snow sugar dusting was on all the cars, but not sticking to the sidewalks and street. The day was cold and dreary for the most part, but full of weather surprises. Standing in the kitchen, motion outside the window caught my eye. Snow flakes as big as dimes (I wanted to say quarters but you'd accuse me of exaggerating) fell softly. It crossed my mind to throw on some clothes and run to the park, but warmth and another cup o' joe won out.

This evening we had slush, snow, thunder and lightning all at the same time. Most peculiar. And torrential rainfall after that.

And how the time doth pass. My current rationalization for not looking harder for work is that it is my birthday week! I don't usually make it into a big holiday, so I must be scraping the bottom of the excuse barrel. Can't you just picture an old-fashioned pickle barrel stuffed with excuses written on paper? "My dog ate it." "Stomach flu." "Absence of meaning." "You were mean to me." "Old age." "Temporarily mentally infirm."

Ah well, perhaps I have shared this quote before, but it is helping me to resist the temptations of (emotional) self-flagellation:

"How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and the strong. Because someday you will have been all of these."
— George Washington Carver.