Changing the Colors

Hold not to vengeance, for it is not yours; turn a beatific smile on hatred and change the colors from gray to gold. Press the hurt in silent words to paper and prayer; embrace a promise of inner peace, for no one hears you clearly now.DSC_0024

Looking at the Wrong Future


sat on the edge of my seat, waiting for a future I’d worked hard for to materialize, only to discover my future was entirely different . . . and better. Then I sat back and smiled. What a thing.

I was looking at the wrong future. 

Good Ol’ Erma.

I’d forgotten how much I enjoy Erma Bombeck’s writing.  This one gave me a laugh today . . .

When mothers talk about the depression of the empty nest, they’re not mourning the passing of all those wet towels on the floor, or the music that numbs yourteeth, or even the bottle of capless shampoo dribbling down the shower drain. They’re upset because they’ve gone from supervisor of a child’s life to a spectator. It’s like being the vice president of the United States. — Erma Bombeck