Its not really storming here where I sit in my Italian villa overlooking the azure blue Mediterranean Sea, but its Monday none-the-less. Saturday passed, Sunday passed, and I found myself sitting here alone, having missed the soulful weekend guests, who usually venture out to chat with me on my well-worn sofas.
I apologize.
I had good intentions, but time became a tyrant and drove me like a stormy whirlwind to Monday. I fought hard against it, praying for a brief reprieve to just sit and engage with you, but to no avail. I was overtaken!
I hope this Monday finds you ready to face another week, your weekend having filled you with what was needed to get you here.
I posted a Facebook status on Friday encouraging my friends to "hold books with pages, mugs with steam, and hands that know your secrets" during their weekend. I had some of you answer immediately, but I was hoping more of you might want to share with me, so I could envision what you did or might have done with these three intriguing initiatives.
What books did you hold?
What mugs or cups did you partake of?
What hands did you grasp that know your deepest secrets?
I held a few books (as is my usual custom, but less so this weekend due to ballet shows and off-load food truck sales) but the pages I turned the most were from The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton. The story captivates me as it twists in and out of different time eras, and winds itself around a writer of fairy tales whose personal story ripples into future generations.
I partook of a steaming coffee on Saturday morning, which is my tradition, but also sipped from a delicious shaken lime margarita on a sunny patio Sunday night in celebration of the Mexican holiday, Cinco de Mayo. Both beverages were delightful and satisfying in their own time and purpose.
Last, but certainly not least, was the hand I held. My eldest beauty, JayLynn, sighed her typical "mother, really?" as I grasped her hand on Saturday and professed that she alone knew all my deepest secrets! Her sudden alarmed glance made me realize this is a very solemn and somewhat disturbing undertaking for a first born daughter. I quickly revised my statement, reassured her that she actually didn't know ALL of them (as children never should), and confirmed the Baroness, in fact, was the actual gatekeeper of my secret locker. Relief was apparent.
Your mission this week, should you choose to accept it, is to share with me your weekend selections, and if you have not done so yet, what would you have picked and who would you have held? All comments are welcome.
It satisfies the soul of words, the sense of taste, and the heart of connection.
Until next time,
Lady Jane
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