I am grateful for…
1) Cold-brewed coffee with almond milk. Vroom! Being caffeinated is fun! Hm, but maybe not the healthiest?
2) Playing more with my website. Seriously enjoying the tinkering with designs and colors and words.
3) The thought I had yesterday: “I’m going to be rich and help support my family.” It felt clear and smooth. I like. I’ve been working on money issues lately, digging into my beliefs about money and how they might inform the fact that I often don’t have much of it, even though I make a decent amount of it (or did, before cutting my hours for the boy). I have negative thoughts about being rich and what it takes to get rich. The word “rich” is sexy-dirty, it makes me think abundance, comfort, luxury, but also under-handed, sleazy, privileged, entitled. Nothing terribly original; our culture both worships and loathes money. Nothing gets people commenting online like money. The code being: If you have it, keep your trap shut about it. I would like to shed the negative stuff once I’ve dug it all up (to mix a metaphor). And be a person who feels comfortable managing money, having money, making money, and giving away money. I am none of those things at the moment. My relationship with the green is thick with shame and fear. Ashamed that I grew up with it, sort of (it’s complicated), ashamed that I have more than others, ashamed that I have less than others. I will rush to tell you how cheaply I got something for—what’s that about? I want to just say “Thank you,” when someone says, “Great jacket!” Not, “Thanks! I got a really great deal by cobbling together some coupon codes and gift cards” or: “Target, $10 on clearance.” I want to, as Kate Northrup says in her book, Money, a Love Story, be my own Prince Charming. Because, as she said on a free call with Elena Brower the other day: “No one will save you and if they do they will rob you of the experience of knowing what you’re made of.” Amen. I want to know what I’m made of. (Even though that thought is followed by: Well, plenty of people work very hard and make no money, money does not equate with merit, at all, in our culture. Which is true, but also just another way I keep from feeling good about making money. As my old shrink used to say, “That’s just your brain fucking with you!”)
4) The way people look at Baby H in the stroller now that he’s big and upright enough to make eye contact. It’s heart-melting to watch the tough stock guys at the grocery store get all melty and wave-y at him. The best.
5) Planting basil! Well, the prospect of. I need to gut last year’s planters and pop in the four new plants I’ve got. Though I’ve got a brown thumb, basil seems to tolerate my neglect pretty well. Pesto, here we come!
6) Work. I really like my job. It’s so basic in many ways, but I like how it engages me without requiring every ounce I’ve got. Which is perfect for right now. And also: I get to look at photos of cute babies, a lot.
7) Cooking. Last night was baked chicken breast over a quinoa stir-fry of kale, yellow pepper, and tomato. Mmm.
8) Having stamps. I don’t know why, exactly, but when I have stamps, I feel safe and prepared, like having toilet paper and water.
9) Watching the boy suck his toes. OMG. The cutest. I am envious and fascinated. His cloth diapers prohibit this range of motion, sadly, but when we’re changing him, he gets in there and sucks away. Amazing.
10) Sending prayers to those missing girls. Uhg, if evil begets evil, I want to know how it all started. Is one psychopath responsible for every evil human act?
11) Sunset through the terrace doors, from the sofa.
