To be honest, I should’ve taken a picture of poop to describe today. The rundown: an AM greeting of three blops of cat vomit, ice balls pelting the car on the way to work, a frazzled blast of little crises the minute I stepped into my office, impossible knotted projects piled onto my (full) plate, the finger from another driver on the way home (why???). Poop. Pure and unadulterated.
In an effort to shake the sourness, we headed to the downtown art museum to see “Man On Wire,” about Philippe Petit. In 1974, he rigged a wire between the Twin Towers, 1350 feet above the ground, then danced back and forth on it for 45 minutes. Impossible, it seemed. But no, it wasn’t.
Lesson learned.
Filed under: Movies
Tonight we scooted downtown to the art museum for some Animated Short Films (all 2007 Academy Award nominees). My favorite was “Meme les Pigeons Vont au Paradis” (Even Pigeons Go to Heaven). One confused me, and another made my eyes tired (lots of swirling), but in the end, they took away my headache. You can’t ask for more than that.
Despite this being a three day work week, it felt LONG. Like, I keep thinking it’s Friday. But it’s Wednesday. And Thanksgiving Eve. I’m all disoriented.
We had some tasty leftovers for dinner, then took a nice walk with the boys. (So what else is new?) It’s calm and almost mild…good night for a spin around our usual route. I hate wind. No wind tonight so it’s all good.
We picked up just a few groceries, then came home and watched “Notes On a Scandal.” But right now there’s SU basketball blaring from the speaker above my head. I like basketball about as much as I like wind, so it might be time to settle down with my book.
I’m reading about “Sabbath keeping.” Not keeping it in any orthodox or Amish sense, but setting a day apart to stay away from all things related to work. To recharge and explore other things. To ignore the damn to-do list for one whole day. To make up my own rituals for my own Sabbath. So far, I’m intrigued.
Tomorrow: Cinnamon buns early, then a date with some sweet potatoes. Oh, and a bit of a feast at my sister’s.
Exhale.
Living with intention...or not 