Picky, picky, picky
That is the way I see myself when I start to write about one of my idiosyncrasies.
I love crossword puzzles.
My favorites are from the daily newspapers.
On Monday, Tuesday and Thursdays there is only one in the daily newspaper.
On the other days there are two.
Now Monday does not bother me that there is only one since I am usually busy reorganizing things that got disorganized over the week-end.
But Tuesday leaves me missing that second puzzle.
I know, picky, picky, picky.
So I know, when I wake up, Tuesday is my most unfavorite (?) day.
Tuesday Morning Constitution
I rise in the morning at daybreak and slowly drag myself to the healing place.
The spot where I face the sun and lift my heavy laden heart to soak up the healing rays like a dry dishrag soaking up the warm sudsy water.
Like loving fingers the rays stroke my aching heart and I soon feel the blessing of letting go,
Allowing all the synapses to snap in the right place and at the right time.
Letting the blessings of the healing balm spread through the channels like sun filling the darkness of tiny, narrow, forgotten alleys.
The blessings of knowing I am cared for, of feeling the acceptance of loving hearts around me.
I feel my world is safe, warm and vibrant, even on a cloudy day.
I take my new psyche inside to face the demands of the day with the armor to slay any dragon.
Peggy Jones 10/04/2011