You get some days which are bursting with things you want to say; good things, bad things, trivial things, major things. Then you get some days like today where there is really just nothing much to report.
It was Monday - well that is always a bit of a down as it means the weekend is over. I enjoy my job but I am lazy enough to admit I'd rather be a lady of leisure!
It was raining a lot - well it is April in the UK - what do you expect.
I have a lot of work to do - well that's what I get paid for.
So nothing remarkable to report at all apart from this .....
Nigel and I play Scramble a lot - we love it. And it keeps our minds agile.
Prior to yesterday my highest score was 114.
WOW - I was so thrilled with my new high I even kept it so I could take a picture of it today for the photo of the day.
I have another weekly page to share today
It was a week that I thought was one of the worst weeks ever - little did I know worse was yet to come.
- being healthy, being dry and being home
Now those teeth are why I wouldn't tangle with a cat! Kira is a nibbler - she doesn't bite but sort of mouths you with her teeth like I guess she might a kitten. But she did bite me once - hard. So hard it didn't even bled at first and then it poured. We were in the spare room together and I was trying to shut the heavy drawer under the divan bed and she was - as usual - 'helping' and her foot got caught in the drawer. And she screamed but couldn't run as her foot was caught and whilst helping her she bit me. It was a natural reaction but boy did it hurt. They have mean old teeth.
My one minute devotional calendar page today is
The stock market was picking up, and as an investment adviser, I was busier than ever. I had several appointments lined up, driving from one part of town to the other. I sped through a yellow light and noticed the traffic ahead slow to a standstill. “Now what?” I muttered to myself. “An ambulance? A police car?” No, it was a funeral procession.
Usually this is something I really love about the South: Everyone stops for a funeral procession, every car showing respect for the grieving. But not that day; not when I was in such a hurry.
Up ahead I could see a green funeral flag flapping on the lead motorcycle as the police escort approached. I parked on the shoulder, becoming more frustrated by the second. Then I looked at the guy behind me. He’d stepped out of his car and was standing at attention.
All of a sudden, I was 12 years old, trying to understand why my grandfather was gone. I remember riding in the long black funeral limo, holding my mom’s hand. She was pointing out the window, showing me how the world had stopped out of respect for my grandfather’s life. I remembered how the cars were pulled over and how the people looked at us as we passed. They told a little heartbroken boy that his grandfather mattered.
My appointments could wait. I got out of the car and stood in silence as the hearse passed. Next came a black Lincoln, with an elderly lady alone in the backseat. Our eyes met. I nodded gently at her. She gave me a slight wave of her hand, and I could read “thank you” on her lips. Then she was gone.
The entire incident took only six minutes out of my day. Sure, I could have used those minutes in other ways. But that was the best six-minute investment I’d made in a long time.
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