Here we go again

I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.

Long weekend. Monday. Again.

My cats are driving me crazy this morning. I shut the office door and yelled at them to leave me alone. I wish there was a cat hotel nearby so they could enjoy a couple nights at the kitty spa and I could enjoy stillness sans fur.

I had a psychic reading on Saturday. I went to a Christian church yesterday. I don't think the two are mutually exclusive. And I want to know more about the Church of Religious Science. It's weird for me to say that...someone from Redondo Beach CA visits this blog and that location is somehow connected to that organization. Who are you?

I also want to avoid eating disorder behaviors until midnight tonight. And if the Divine Spirit could grant me the grace to avoid any liquor store until 9 p.m., I'd be grateful.

I've been going through photos and now there's a picture of my great-grandmother, Irene Schmidt, sitting next to this laptop. It was probably taken in the late '70s, the period from which I have the strongest memories of her. She's sitting at the dining room table, wearing a cotton, button-front house dress, a half apron and a sweater. I swear I can see tissue balled up in the cuff. I miss her. She had the best wrinkly skin, she grew African violets and she never served a lunch that didn't include sliced white bread and butter. She's my mother's mother's mother. I think I might look a little like her.

The thought for the day: What would Grandma Schmidt do?