Still Polly

One Saturday morning It was an almost perfect Polly-style Saturday morning. Got up early, took the dog out, made coffee, checked a few things before settling into my daily Scripture, spiritual reading, journaling, and Rosary. Before you think this sounds a little too holy, these mornings are often peppered with yelling at Riley for barking at shadows, going down rabbit holes on Pinterest or Amazon, or just flat out falling asleep. At any rate, this particular Saturday morning was to be my "Confession + Grocery Shopping" day. I shoot for every other week... partly because I have heard that twice a month confession comes with some indulgences, and partly because that's the usual length of time it takes us to run seriously low on things like half-and-half and lunch meat.  Starting the whole day focusing on God's love and mercy in the sacrament of reconciliation gives me peace, and at least for a time I don't get so upset by the usual "stuff" that comes with...

The hardest part about painting a room is starting. Prep is not fun; it's tedious but necessary. How many switchplates have I removed and put back up in my fiftynevermind  years? How many tubs of spackle? How many miles of painter's tape? Zero. Zero miles of painter's tape. I don't use it. A steady hand and a good brush is all you need, at least that's what a painter told me once.  The hardest part about deciding to start writing again is also starting . December 23rd was the day Bob and I had been dreading for - I don't know - probably forever but at least a year. It was the day we decided would be Kenai's last. The 14-year-old husky was arguably the sweetest animal either of us had ever known. The hairy, irritating, goofball of a dog was one we implicitly trusted around old people and babies because all he knew how to do was love.  I don't have to detail the reasons for the decision other than to say that, "it was time." We made some phone ca...