Even as an adult, I still entertain the thought that when my things disappear, it’s not because I’ve mislaid them, but because Borrowers have taken them.

A few days ago, my wonderful friend Cassi bequeathed a citrine crystal to Queso and I and our new roommates.  

This little crystal is meant to bring about prosperity, cleanse the home, and to soothe fear and anxiety—perfect for a house-warming gift (I might also add here that the citrine is also used as a November birthstone…double whammy).   It was a beautiful and thoughtful gift from a friend I deeply admire and from whom I often go to for her sage advice.  

Cassi has recently started a website/blog about her yoga instruction, practice, and lessons, and her most recent post features a commentary on crystals.  And, who should appear in this lovely little blog post, but my favorite feline, Queso?

My cat’s a superstar.  

To read the post and to keep up with Cassi’s teaching schedule, visit her site at:

http://cassiyoga.com/  

This morning as I relished in the tiny perfection of the fruit and custard tart I picked up from La Boulangerie on my way to work, my boss walked past my office, stopped, backed up a little bit and said to me:

“Do you realize that every time I walk past this office, you are eating? Is there a problem?”

I looked at the man who rarely eats anything at all and said with every bit of straight-facedness I could muster:

 ”I’m hypoglycemic.”

He smiled and nodded to acknowledge that he knows that this is not true in the least bit—we all know I simply love a pastry.

Forgiveness is a gift of high value. Yet its cost is nothing.

-Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Last night, as I wandered through the alley to my little apartment (only two more nights now until the move), fuming about my recently stolen transit card, what did my eyes fall upon? 

This glorious object:

 

A dining room chair that had been hand-painted and titled “Red Phoenix.”

Instantly my thoughts moved from cursing the man who unscrupulously stole my transit card to the mystery of this chair.  Who painted it?  Why did it bear such a name?  Was it part of a larger clan of chairs with similar titles? Why was it cast out to fend for itself in the rough Chicago streets?

If anybody has any information regarding a mysterious club of chair-painters, please let me know. I’m curious beyond belief. 

People always think that happiness is a faraway thing,” thought Francie, “something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains - a cup of strong hot coffee when you’re blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you’re alone - just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness.

-Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

This is why:

That’s me holding the office coffee pot. I don’t drink coffee. Not ever.  But somehow, I manage to be the one who gets to clean the coffee pot when coffee drinkers fail to rinse things out (*cough* *cough*, students) See that green stuff floating around on top? That’s nature. Nature of this variety does not belong in a beverage.

I’d say this is about 3 weeks worth of growth.  I’m going to let you be privvy to some exclusive scientific information: that layer of mold has the consistency and thickness of a piece of corrugated cardboard. 

Lessons to be learned from this scenario (which is on its 5th or 6th repeat):

1. Never trust a 20-something coffee drinker to clean out the coffee pot.  For that matter, never trust any coffee drinker to clean out the coffee pot.

2. Some mold looks like it came out of a spiro-graph kit.

3. Don’t forget to clean out the always-forgotten coffee ground compartment (which, oddly enough, doesn’t mold at the same rate)

4. Keep drinking single-serving cups of tea. It’s safer and doesn’t require toxic waste disposal.