Posted By admin on April 10, 2013
Mostly, in life, I choose to be cheerful. I honestly think it’s the best approach in the “you get what you give out” stakes. I did read Pollyanna at a really young age, but she was right about that whole finding something good, no matter what, concept.
However, for some reason, yesterday, I was not cheerful. I even exercised for longer than usual, trying to squeeze a few more endorphins out of–wherever they reside. (I have a confession–my deep and abiding love for Andy Griffith–and Barney Fife!) It didn’t work. Not even Barney and Ange helped! :-(
So I took refuge in the next best comfort. I made a last Shepherd’s Pie.
I say last Shepherd’s Pie because cooking it made the house too hot! It’s salad time at the Adams abode until next fall–which is kind of a shame because my girl and I have been planning to make an apple crisp!
So–I’m at Panera this morning, working on synopses for two different stories, and refusing to be accept any mood except cheerful! When the woman standing next to me, chatting with her friend says, “Yeah, we had him at the hospital from 1-5 this morning, and he still doesn’t sound good to me.” That’s when the toddler in question, clinging to my booth, hacked all over me.
Have I mentioned I’m a germaphobe? A %^&**&^% cheerful germaphobe! Just now bathed from head to toe in Sweet Pea hand sanitizer.
Perched like a vulture, ready to pounce upon the next free table! No amount of Shepherd’s Pie could ever fix this!
Or could I be overdoing the drama?