Identity: What Did I Miss?

I’m staring at the ID card I’ve had for several years. This card tells everyone Mary is a permanent employee for a state government agency and assigns an ID number. It also contains one of the few ID or driver’s license photos in which I don’t appear to have woken from a two-day drunk. ID stands for “identity,” but you wouldn’t learn much about me from the plastic rectangle that is clipped to a piece of wardrobe Monday through Friday.Read more

My Next Cat

“If cats could talk, they wouldn’t.” ~Nan Porter~ Oh yeah? My next cat is going to be mute, I swear So that he is unable to voice despair My next cat will not utter a yowl or voice his neediness with a howl My next cat will not cry at night and respond to my obedience with delight My next cat will not utter a kitty word even when stalking a chirping bird My next cat will be quiet asRead more

Morning Dew

“The dew waits for no voice to call it to the sun.” ~Rev. Joseph Parker~ It’s that time of year when the sun is rising during the ride into work, which provides plenty of opportunity for photos like this one. I am missing the summer’s 5:30 a.m. sunny wake-up call, but life goes on and I have to accept shorter days and getting up in the dark until some time in 2018. I said accept, not like. This post hasRead more

Talkin’ Food

He’s a talker, that one. I wish I knew what he was saying. He wants something. Perhaps love. Perhaps prey. Or perhaps nothing but to hear the sound of his own plea. Food, human, food! Don’t you understand? He yowls, that one. I wish I knew what it meant. Is he scolding someone? For the bane of winter enclosed? For lack of a thousand cat toys? Or maybe nothing but to admire the sound of his own majesty. Food, human,Read more

Why Your Critics (And Your Cheerleaders) Shouldn’t Define You

Originally posted on john pavlovitz:
Those are my principles, and if you don’t like them… well, I have others.  – Groucho Marx. Though we might not verbalize it quite this way, most of us split the world up into two distinct groups of people: our Critics and our Cheerleaders. The former are usually the ones who correct or criticize or attack us the most, whose words tend to feel more like weapons. The latter, are those who are often the source of…