The Friday Recliner ~ October 22nd


The Friday Recliner

Hello friends.

So glad your here.

More by luck than good management my Fridays have become one of the more relaxed days in my week which means they’ve taken on a certain extra charm. The boy gets picked up so no driving him to work and rushing back home, Thai Red Curry for lunch has become a thing and a later start time means I get to sleep in a tiny bit and drink a second cup of coffee slowly.  So I’m coming to you today from the comfort of my room with the song  “Teenage Dirtbag” blasting up the hallway because Eth has turned having his morning shower into a musical event as only teenagers can.  It makes me warm and happy to hear it though.

As always friends I’ve rounded up a few good words and reads to keep you company as you end the week and head into the weekend. I hope they bring some warm and happy your way too.

So take a deep breath or two, grab something good to drink and enjoy  – – –

A Good Word

Miranda Hart

A Good Look

Adventure awaits !

Hiking shoes not always required but best friends and a bag full of snacks a must

See more wonderful pics like this here

A Good Idea

from Kaitlyn Bouchillon

Kind Pants Only

I made a rule back in May: I can only keep what is kind. Then I tried on every pair of shorts I owned. Anything that made me think “I’m too much” had to go. There were fewer options when I was done, but what remained no longer shamed. With Fall beginning to arrive, I decided to tackle the jeans that were tucked away. If I’m honest, a small part of me thought maybe they’d fit by October and as the donate pile grew, I started to think “How are you still here?”⁣

But the seasons are changing, and I want to be kind to myself in this one too.⁣

My body grew last year. I’m bigger now. But this body also carried me through an extremely difficult year. It sheltered-in-place and wept at funerals and adjusted to the new normal of continued loss. It was cut open through surgery and is still healing. It lost giving and receiving hugs. It gained laugh lines. It sang and danced. It walked trails and worked hard. It kept showing up.⁣

It grew—in more ways than one. And so today I’m replying to “How are you still here?” with the truth that this is exactly where I want to be: still here, still choosing kindness no matter the season. I want to be a woman who walks out of her apartment clothed with compassion and kindness, who fills her mind with only what is gracious. But before I can do that, I must look in the mirror and begin there.⁣

The drawer is half-full or half-empty now, depending on how you look at it. But I can breathe in everything that remains, and where there once held a pile that said “You’ve become too much,” there’s space for grace and for whatever is to come. I have less now, but what’s left doesn’t say I have to be. Sure, it’s just a pile of pants to donate. But somehow, it’s also a permission slip of freedom.⁣

If I could look you in the eye today, friend, I’d say you don’t have to do more so that you can be less. You aren’t too much; you don’t need to shrink down or suck in. Your right-now body is already good. Be kind to yourself.

A Few Good Reads

Ghosts at the Table

Around a hundred years ago, my grandparents’ house in Galveston Island, Texas, was moved from the interior of the island to the beachside. The island had been wiped out by the historic 1900 storm, a hurricane that killed thousands and flattened the landscape. One of my mom’s favorite bedtime stories was telling us about the nuns at an orphanage who tied the kids together to keep track of them in the storm—only to have them drown because of it. Every time she told the story the number of orphans grew. So this is the place, and the people, I come from.

We’ve scattered the ashes of so many family members in the Gulf that now I can’t swim in those brown salty waters without thinking, Mom? You out here? And a hermit crab will bite my toe, saying, Naw, lady, she was crawfish food a decade ago. There are other things in this water to fear.

In the decades after the Great Storm, the island rebuilt and a two-story restaurant called The Original Mexican Café opened. The Original has blue-green siding and a white sign anchored with two Coca-Cola logos. Another sign points to the door and reads, “The owner eats here!” (which is true). It’s one of the two oldest restaurants on the island; a temple of Tex-Mex – – – – keep reading

Modern Love in miniature, featuring New York Times reader-submitted stories of no more than 100 words.

Having nearly lost my marriage, I appreciate its comforts now: the quotidian rituals, the seamless care of our children, our shared warmth under the covers. But we both have unexplored pain. After all, with children, jobs, bills, laundry and yard work, who has time to feel all day? – – –  keep reading

I sit quietly in the chair as hair falls to the ground. She works quickly and with each snip of the scissors, another question comes my way: Remind me what you do for work? Are you dating anyone? Did you want layers today?

I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I answer each one, ask a few of my own in response, and then hold my breath wondering if she’ll ask about the scar suddenly on full display.

You’d never know it unless I were to pull my hair into a ponytail, unless I put it into a bun, unless you stood behind me at a hair appointment — and then there’s simply no missing the bare skin where hair no longer grows.⁣

I’m permanently marked. There’s a four-inch scar on the back of my head, and the truth is, I don’t think about it very much anymore. I have to use two mirrors to see it, and the pain of nerves coming back together, throbbing headaches, and dizziness have lessened over the years – – – – keep reading

That’s all for now friends. Enjoy the reads and have a beautiful weekend, rest up, do something you love xx

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