My head hurts. My feet stink. And I don’t love Jesus. Okay, so only the first thing is true: my head hurts. Somehow Jimmy Buffett wiggled his way into my consciousness.

The cat yowled insistently to come in before I could sit down to write. I smelled toast while I was cleaning the coffee pot.

Random. Life is random. We expect it to somehow have this logical thread that ties everything together in a tidy bow and explains everything.

Maybe this is just the human experience. Probably. My angels always seem well-informed and organized.

I don’t get headaches often. Guessing it’s the weather. That coupled with the darker mood I awoke with.

Thank God for God…and the angels.

Feeling grouchy that my days are so consumed by heavy tasks in support of my almost-88 mother and almost-96 father. It took a hefty dose of prayer with God-love to talk me off the ledge.

My beloved guides ordered me to write. Writing always helps. My morning pages today administered a bandaid, but this. This is what I need. Formal writing aligns my core and gives my inner artist a place to play.

Now the cat wants to go out. Email notifications are popping up from my brother. He’s like the cat: insistent.

Stymied, but not.

Free, but not.

In faith, always… somewhere. Today it’s in the county two over from here. Tomorrow, maybe even this afternoon, faith will return to my hometown.

Always in communication with my angels. Always listening. Just not always liking what I’m hearing.

Feeling the love.

On this day in celebration of women, this is one day inside one life inside one woman’s brain.

I toast YOU with big hugs and oodles of love for all the women in your life!