Since I was able-to-speak-years-old, my favorite word has been, “WHY,” and my favorite pastime has been asking it. WHY are we here? WHY are things the way they are? WHY do I act the way I act? WHY do I have these beliefs about myself and about the world? WHY do people make the decisions they make?
WHY did someone decide to pair together the two of the most awful foods on earth - a boiled egg and mayonnaise - call it a deviled egg and declare it a summertime delicacy?
One of the first regular events we held at the SheHive was a Saturday morning meditation group. I was pretty new to the practice, but quickly became fascinated by the patterns I started to notice during our debriefs. Women who sat next to each other – often complete strangers – would share similar images when they talked about what they had seen in their meditative states
Yesterday I took my mom out for a celebratory, fully-vaccinated, Mother’s Day lunch. As we were walking to the restaurant a group of four strangers approached us on the sidewalk with a bucket of roses. I assumed they were trying to sell us flowers, or something else, so I started to rush by them.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” one of them said as they thrust out two roses and then handed my mom and I each a little paper bag. “We’re from a local church and we’re just out here wishing all the women we see a Happy Mother’s Day. We hope you have a great day!”
And that was it. They walked away.
Every year I buy four hanging ferns for my front porch and every year I kill them before the summer ends. I just don’t have the patience it takes to help them grow in a less-than-ideal environment. This year was no different… I bought them way too early and a late-April snow storm had them shriveled to near death within days of them coming to live at Chez Adams.
Ever have one of those friends that just knows everything? Not one of those know-it-alls that claims to know everything, but a girlfriend that is so well-read that she has a little something about just about anything tucked in that big, beautiful mind of hers? A girlfriend that is, say, a co-host of your podcast and, when interviewing a guest who was a one-time President of the Michigourders, starts asking her questions about Incan gourds because, OF COURSE, she knows about Incan gourds?