Still Polly

  "You want to get in the line for me please?" One of my favorite ladies who works at my favorite Goodwill store had made eye contact with me. I was in what I thought was "the line" but clearly it was not. I snapped to attention, looked where she was pointing, muttered "sorry" and hightailed it to the end of the line. Very far from where I was standing, which was very close to her register. "I'll get you!" she hollered in her normal, good-natured way. Surprisingly, the long line fed into three registers so it moved pretty quickly. And sure enough, I did end up at her register. "I told you I'd get you!" she said with a smile. I laughed and said something to the effect of never knowing how the lines are going to work on any given day, and I was telling the truth. That Saturday they formed one long line along the ends of some clothing racks in front of the registers. Other weeks the line forms the opposite way, down an aisle betwee...

There was a time when the incident I am about to describe would have sent me utterly reeling. But now, it's just a disappointment but not the end of the world. I have one of those goofy memo boards in my kitchen. You know the kind with the felt backing and the little white letters? I bought it on clearance somewhere years ago and I usually post a verse or a quote from a saint or something. Below the memo board is our Google Home Hub, a pothos plant, a hand made wooden box that holds the letters (sorted by vowels, consonants, and numerals in zip lock bags of course..), a bottle of Holy Water, a ceramic Celtic cross that I have no idea where it came from, and my beautiful statue of the Blessed Mother that was a gift from my mother-in-law. All these things work for me - they are pretty, useful, and grounding.  The verse that has been on the board since Lent was, "A clean heart create for me, God; renew within me a steadfast spirit." I left it up throughout the entire Easter ...

"You have the blahs?" he messaged me. The blahs? I thought. Well, that's one way to put it. There's an entire litany of reasons why I'm not my usual chipper self. (Note: "chipper" for me isn't like the dictionary definition of "spritely good humor," my version is less high-spirited and vivacious and more like "just not sad.") A little over a week ago I had an appointment with a nurse practitioner who will be my new primary healthcare provider. It was just the first meeting to get to know each other, or more for her to get to know my history and any concerns I have currently. It was a fine first meeting, I liked her.  But. On my list of things I wanted to discuss with her is my struggle with losing a little bit of weight. I explained that I've been upping my exercise and activity a lot, but nothing seems to be budging. Without much hesitation she asked me if I track my calories. I told her no, I had done that in the past but no...