Cake. Yep, I said cake.

I read two interesting things on Facebook today.  The first was this:

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive;

and to do so with some passion, some compassion,

some humor, and some style.” -- Maya Angelou

I have been following Maya Angelou's page for quite some time because she always has good words to share.  It was a sad day indeed when she passed away, but her family has kept up with her page and today the Angelou Johnsons really came through for me.  See, Saturday was the one year anniversary of my dad's death.   Instead of marking the day in a way that would make my dad proud, I did nothing.  Absolutely nothing.   I read a book. I may have read two books.   I left the house long enough for my weekly trip to the post office, then sat my ass on the futon and didn't move the rest of the day.  Actually, dad might be okay with me up to my elbows in my Kindle for hours on end since he was a voracious reader himself, but I certainly did not get to the end of the day feeling like I honored him in any way.   I had a whole list of things I wanted to do so I could go to bed that night and for once feel good about myself and my accomplishments - I wanted to do that on a day when I was thinking about my dad - but no.   Didn't happen.

Remember way back at the beginning of the year when I said I was going to give up sloth for Lent? Yeah, I forgot, too, until just now when I started this sentence.  Looks like I'm due to slough off my sloth again.   (Heh heh, that was good.)   Enter stage left that Maya Angelou quote.   She is speaking to me from the grave.   In a moment of absolute weird, twisted clarity it made perfect sense that the best way to honor my dad is to live by the words of someone who is speaking to me from the grave. So I wrote that quote on a sticky note with my last remaining pink Bigfork UPS Store pen, and I'm going to look at it first thing every day when I wake up.   Maya Angelou took one of my favorite Oscar Wilde quotes - To live is the rarest thing in the world.  Most people exist, that is all - and gave it substance.  To live, we must thrive.  And on the days when all I feel like doing is existing, I will read that quote and remind myself there is a difference.

Now all of that sounds a bit maudlin, which was not my intent, so I will confess to you how I have met these four tenets of thriving today.   Passion. Well, that's a bit awkward, so here is the confession.   I'm reading 50 Shades of Grey.   I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Compassion.  I feel compassion for entire populations every day when I listen to All Things Considered.  How can you not?  But today specifically, I watched a video online that made me cry. I'm not sure this qualifies as thriving with compassion, but take a look here and tell me what you think.  I'm going to watch it again right now.

Okay, next up is humor which brings us to the second thing I saw on Facebook today.   I copied it to my wall and said it was the story of my life.

Indeed.  Finally, we've got style.  I'm gonna rock this one because I bought myself some new boots last week and although I have yet to wear them out in public, I'm wearing them right now.  With my fleece pajamas.

Oh yeah, baby.  I know I won't be able to thrive Maya Angelou style every day, but you can be damn sure I will have a smile on my face every time I wear these boots.

Poodle thrives with passion, compassion, humor and style as often as she can, even when she puts herself to bed with all her little friends.

That's my girl.

Minor Interruption

I know you are on the edge of your seat (and considering how long you have been waiting there, your rear probably fell asleep weeks ago) waiting for info on my Dr. Seuss tree and Leslie's latest book, but I must post a quick interruption because it is very important.

The dahlias are blooming.

Someone gave me two dahlias a few months ago.  They looked like a pile of dirty, dead roots wrapped in a newspaper and if I take care of them the way I am supposed to, at the end of this season they will once again look like a pile of dirty, dead roots wrapped in newspaper.

Also, in the this-is-very-important department, there is poodle with her big stick.

The end.