A dear friend comes over to my house this afternoon and brings me lunch. She marches in with a huge Ann Taylor bag filled with delicious home-cooked chicken enchiladas, fresh kale salad with cranberries, nuts and apples and even two chocolate cupcakes with the most delicious chocolate frosting. No, I am not sick. Yes, she’s a keeper.
More than the food, I love this afternoon for getting the chance to share three hours of laughter, non-stop laughter. I don’t know what happens to me when I’m around good friends, but midway through lunch, I realized I am shouting, not talking. My daughter would be appalled, but here’s nothing better than howling over shared stories with someone you really enjoy being around.
It’s so easy for me to run around all day taking care of whatever’s on my list without stopping to relax or check in with friends. I love time alone, but maybe to a fault. The more I get into those patterns, the harder they are to break. And I know it has a way of bringing me down.
Today affirms what I’ve basically always thought about friendships. We need our friends. They need us.
So, next time you see a couple of friends hanging out at Starbucks and they’re laughing a bit too loud, smile and be thankful. Happy people make a better world.
Spread the love. Call your friend and plan to make some time for each other. I guarantee you’ll be helping humanity.
That tag line about skinning cats is starting to get on my nerves. Why did I have to go and write that? Because it’s in my genes. There’s a long line of stubborn women going all the way back to my great grandmother Louise. Only that wasn’t actually her name. It was Louisa. But she didn’t care for Louisa so she dropped the “a” and added an “e” and didn’t tell anyone about it until she was on her deathbed. She probably felt a little guilty (nah) or needed to clear the air since so many of us were named after her, including me and my mother. I prefer Louisa. Thanks, Great Grandma Leigh.
So, it’s not really getting on my nerves, but it’s something of a burden when you know you won’t stop until you get it right. I’ve had severe technical blogging difficulties today and like the women before me, I don’t give up that easily. It’s past midnight. 😦
And this is all for some experiment that didn’t go so well. Yes, back to the question of “DID IT WORK?” You have to say that loudly. It even needs an echo: “Did it work, did it work?”
No, it did not work to the effect I had hoped, but baking soda, aluminum foil, hot water and a dash of salt does remove some tarnish from my very old utensils. I’d say this experiment is worth repeating. I only tried it once and I have to say I may have messed it up a little.
About a month ago, I ripped a page out of Whole Living magazine (a Martha Stewart publication) Always on the prowl for clever and practical do-it-yourself projects, I found one for removing tarnish. Not that I hang around looking to polish silver. I never polish silver. Not even my silver jewelry. Just not high on the priority list. But, then along comes this clever blurb from Whole Living magazine that promises their home remedy will “effortlessly dissolve the tarnish.”
DOES IT WORK?! The back of the utensils look great. The front: not so much. It may need a little contact. Like with an old toothbrush. The back was touching the aluminum. Clearly, some kind of chemical reaction occurs when the aluminum touches the silver. Or maybe not. I’m going to try it again.
If you want to try it, here’s what you’ll need:
1 large pan.
1 cup hot water
1 cup baking soda
Dash of salt
Line the pan with aluminum foil.
Pour the hot water into the pan.
Dump in the baking soda and dash of salt.
Stir until mostly dissolved.
Add your utensils one at a time.
I swirled the mixture around and flipped them over.
I have to admit I was surprised! Delighted. But I couldn’t get the front of the utensils as clean as the back. In the end, it’s hard to tell, but they are cleaner Okay, so maybe you need a magnifying glass.
I’m laughing. I can’t really tell. This may need a second round of testing. If I have to answer does it work, I’d have to say “kind of, sort of.” How very scientific of me.
What do you think? Do you think Martha does this? Will you?
Hank’s last words before going to sleep tonight: ” $11.99. That’s how much I should ask for my tooth from the Tooth Fairy.”
I ask him why $11.99.
“Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” he says.
“What about it?” I ask.
“I don’t have Book Seven.”
I asked him a ridiculous question.
“Promise me you will always be my little boy.”
I didn’t like asking it, but it was only a few weeks ago when his first top tooth fell out. My baby boy is not a baby anymore.
When he showed me his big, bloodied, gaping hole in the middle of his mouth, I winced and felt a sudden loss. He’s changing and growing, and he won’t be my baby boy forever.
I was sure Hank was going to roll his eyes at me and remind me how impossible it was to promise things like that.
“Of course I will. It’s impossible to not be your baby boy,” he says.