Mother May I?

Years ago, my mother-in-law told me, "There's nothing worse than a crooked painting on a wall." Right away I thought of so many worse things, but kept my mouth shut.

(there are definitely more important problems with this Googled room than the crooked pictures, but that's for another blog)


One worse thing is bitching about the weather in Phoenix in the summer (which I did the other day). I should have learned (and I'm a native). I made a commitment a couple of years ago specifically not to complain. To be above it all. Because, there really is nothing worse, is there? We hear it all the time. Wow, it's hot. So hot. Like an oven hot. I try to smile and nod at these people, then realize I recently became one of them again. The other day I was chatting with some high school buddies about the heat. They couldn't remember it ever being as hot as it was the other day. The temp. The humidity. It's like those kids from Buffalo that think that the winters weren't so bad. But I remember running around all summer long back then. Out there in it. Pool hopping from one resort to another (back before they gated everything up, requiring a room key to even get a towel - where's the fun in that?), riding bikes until the sun went down, drinking Tab, heading off to 7/11 with our pockets full of change, walking barefoot through the gravel. I remember.

But, back to the glass is half full person that I like to be, Mother Nature is my friend again. We're below 100. It's breezy. Rainy. Shawn and I were even out in it last night, loving it, choosing to be there and this am, I even opened the windows for a bit.

Thanks, Mom.