Cloudy between 1 and 3

In the midst of yesterday’s stresses and strains with Lowes, Target, Larry, Jasmine and Sherry and bad dreams the night before of plant scale over running the new bungalow working from the roof down- it was a grim dream- in the midst of all that- it didn’t escape my mind that yesterday was Good Friday. A really fine day. One of those days when, be you Pagan, Christian, Buddist or whatever (I know you have to do a little switcheroo in your head about holiday names and dates and the finer details if you’re Jewish…) it’s good to think about things like sacrifice and redemption. About who gave and gives what for you so you can live,love, think, laugh, cry, make mindful decisions (Congress excluded) and sin with abandon. About what you shoulda, coulda, woulda be doing in turn. About cleaning up your act. About the thrill of rebirth and- yes!- new life in the garden in Michigan. (Here in Florida there’s less to be thankful about on that front- the plantlife just keeps growing and spreading and taking over your sidewalks and foundation.) Above all, I think about forgiveness. About how much of that I need and so do those that I love. So on Good Friday I’m more mindful that I need to try to be a gentler and more forgiving person. TRY being the operative word here. Yesterday I was still muttering at old people in go-carts, Florida drivers and then Abby and I had one heck of a knock-down, drag-out in the evening-after her third shower, third towel, third nap, trip to the beach and tennis courts and she wanted to know, as Kristen was screwing in new kitchen hardward and I was busting boxes, how soon we would be ready to take her and Nick out to dinner. She’s still asleep reminding me of the lamb I gave birth to, so thus far today, she’s forgiven. That will change shortly and I’ll have to start trying all over again. and failing. And looking for forgiveness for myself. I like Good Friday.

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