The Day Off

Both the golf course and the kitchen are closed at our country club on Mondays. For the staff, it is considered a day off.

That is but for on Memorial and Labor Day. On both those days the club is opened. The staff is run ragged.

And so, to be fair, on those holidays, the next day—a Tuesday—the doors remain closed and the workers recharge.

Which is what I am doing today—taking the day off and recharging.

Because I worked my butt off this entire weekend helping my daughter with her move.

I need a little down time.

I am exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

But my words will return next week—when I am back to business again.

And I suspect I will tell you all about it--unless another mother or daughter or wife-ly task diverts my attention.

Mother's Day vs. Father's day

The president remarked to his wife: Why is there so much more fuss over Mother’s Day than Father’s Day?

Mrs. Obama snidely replied Because every day is Father’s Day but for on Mother’s Day.

Politics aside, that insight is inarguable.        

For the Debbie Downers

Some (in particular the woman who birthed me) find my positive outlook positively annoying.

It’s not that I am a red haired orphan girl singing Tomorrow every second of the day, but more that my approach to disruptions and life’s potholes is situated on the pragmatic side of the room. For me, negativity is an energy better spent on solutions—I find it less exhausting to magnify a sliver of light than to dwell on the enveloping darkness.

Yet, I have trouble convincing the unconvinced.

That was until yesterday—when I read (with a giggle) a phrase printed on some artwork at Homegoods.

It read: Why be a pessimist—it won’t work anyway.

I thought you can’t say it any plainer than that. It is something that even the most diehard Debbie Downers cannot argue with.