~ Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

 My internet friend Michelle tagged me on Instagram last week for #20beautifulwomen. It really made my day smack in the midst of a phenomenally bad couple of weeks. How lovely and unexpected to be told by someone you’ve admired for a long time that she thinks you’re a beautiful person too! I’ve been spending a lot of time since then thinking about beauty and what that word means to me.

I’ve never thought of myself as physically beautiful. My nose is weird, my ptosis make my eye look all wonky. I mean. OK. I think I’m reasonably attractive, but not beautiful. I’m good with that.

The women I tend to think are truly beautiful are the women I respect and look up to. The women I wish I was more like. My mother in law was a beautiful woman. She was kind and generous. She was no saint, mind you, she was a red head after all (wink wink), but she was a good person. I think that’s what beauty is to me, really, having a good soul.

My friend Amanda, who is raising her awesome son, Milo, all on her own. My aunt Ali, (who might as well be my big sister), who has lived through one hell of a year. My sister in law, Anna, who devotes her free time to charity and giving back. My daughter, Miss W, who has the biggest heart I have ever known. There are so many women that I admire, who are beautiful to me. I can’t list you all, there are too many of you.

I know that I’m no good with people. I have such a genuinely difficult time speaking Human. I try to just quietly do good things because when I open my mouth, it quite often ends in disaster. But I try. And I’ll keep trying. And I’ll keep looking up to the truly beautiful women in my life for inspiration and guidance and hope.

moonage daydream, david bowie

dead flowers, the rolling stones

slipped, the national

~Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

no one will ever love you …

I’m out of sorts, out of patience, rocking that Also Ran feeling like you wouldn’t believe.

Doesn’t matter how hard I work at work, it never pays off. I’m just dismissed or overlooked or ignored.

It all just feels kind of futile. Want to hide out on the Compound and shut off the outside world entirely. No job. No people.

I’ll find zen with some bees. I’ll build a barn. Pen the herd. Homeschool my poor unsocialized children.

Why can’t it be that simple?

I’m not looking for attention. I’m just venting my frustration.

It’s been a difficult couple of weeks. And I can’t shake it off so easily this time.

Enough already. Just enough.

~The Replacements, Valentine

This was a spectacularly craptastic week, but it ended brilliantly. Really good news at work, a three day weekend, and my phone issues have been resolved. (I loathe switching providers. But WiFi calling, where have you been all my life, you saucy minx?) I also managed, with Miss W’s help, to get the family room gutted of all clutter, junk, and debris so we can actually enjoy the space again. We hung out in there all day today with a lovely fire in the wood burner. It’s been too long. Also I forgot how toasty it gets in there with that thing goin’. Now I just have to deal with Stormageddon’s room. Ooph. I think I’ll put that off a teensy bit longer.

~Jim Harrison, The Road Home

My aunt waited in line in Traverse City to get me a signed copy of that book once. She’d never read a page of Jim Harrison. That meant the world to me. I love his work. If you haven’t read him, you absolutely should. Plus he’s from Michigan, which is a big bonus in my book.

I’ve been posting to Flickr everyday. I hadn’t been cross posting because that seemed silly. But it occurs to me that most of the people who come here can’t see my Flickr page anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t much matter.

I think my dinner is ready.