bloom where you're planted

My mom is the queen of the concept of "bloom where you're planted". She somehow manages to turn brown patches of grass and dirt into elaborate, generous gardens. Run-down rentals into cozy little cottages. And life's pickles into... well, you get the idea. She amazes me. Since moving to Raleigh, I have been feeling homesick for my mom, and I think a lot of it was just the inspiration she is to me. I told her that I haven't hung any artwork on the walls of my new rental house yet and she frowned. "C'mon now," she said. (That's all she needed to say.) I told her I bought an old, yucky, country-style table from Craigslist because that's what I could afford... and she asked why I haven't painted it yet. "Slap a coat of white on there already for heaven's sake." I told her that I've been trying to decorate my porch for fall and all I've managed to do was plop down two pumpkins and hang a wandering jew. She laughed.

That's really what I needed... the reminder to laugh at myself. To slap some paint on. To quit making excuses and tackle some projects. To lighten up.

So when I got stuck at the airport with Veda coming home yesterday, instead of getting mad, I made up games for us to play. We ran around the rows of chairs and did the chicken dance and took naps and kicked our legs. And it made all the difference.

Thanks, mom... I needed that. :)