I really really like mugs, all kinds of mugs. I have mugs with my initial, mugs with the names of places I have visited, mugs that are glam, mugs that were gifts, and mugs that I painted myself. Guess you can say I am a collector. Besides mugs I also really enjoy coffee and tea. It doesn't matter if it is french press, an espresso, loose leaf, or in a tea bag. I keep enough variety on hand to suit my every mood. With a great mug filled with some delicious beverage, I like to sit on my couch, you know that one spot that just beckons you settle in and stay awhile. I grab my phone, or a book, or watch some sappy and predictable romantic movie while I sip and allow my hands to form around one of these mugs. Simple comfort.

One day I pulled all of them out of the cabinet and sorted between the ones I still wanted to enjoy awhile longer and those I would lovingly gift to some other mug lover. Once I completed my task, I just stood for a moment admiring both what was now neatly stacked and what was in the pass it forward box.

I smiled. However, my joy did not come from the thrill of the purge or the new tidy space. No, my true joy came from knowing myself and what I love so well, that the sort was not a chore, but a celebration of who I am today. I admired my paint jobs with all of their imperfections. I relished the fact that I left nothing I only sort of liked. What remains are mugs that represent all of the many facets of my personality, my hobbies, my travels. And yes, this is very Marie Kondo as my joy is sparked every morning when I make a selection. But what I want you to know, is that I do not take for granted being able to confidently articulate my joy. I remember what it feels like to be unsure and insecure that I did not always allow myself to experience or purchase things just because I liked them. Maybe they had to be a great price or fulfill some real need in order for me to justify bringing it home. These mugs represent a just because I like you collection, no apology, no explanation needed.

In this cabinet there are no two alike. Isn't that just like us? Different shapes, colors, sizes all coexisting all designed with purpose, flair, and style. And of course, I really like that.


Jodi

Bowl of cherries

Eat the fruit, spit the pits. 

As I sat at my desk looking at a bowl of  cherries, I thought life sure isn't always sweet and easy that's for sure. I knew I wanted to write about it, but as I ate one cherry at a time, I changed my mind. Just as quickly as the idea came to share my heart about the trials of this life, a new perspective presented itself. Maybe it was because I was simply savoring the flavor and delighting in the fact that this fruit is truly seasonal, you know temporary. Maybe because this moment right here reminds me of the long lazy days of childhood. Maybe it was because although there could be a lot to fret about, I am here enjoying a delectable summer treat. Or maybe because no matter how tough life gets, what I know for sure is that troubles pass and joy returns. This is the ebb and flow of life. And now I am chuckling to myself as I'm keenly aware that I sound like the old folks. They know what's up as my son would say.

As I grabbed stem after stem, I separated the meatiness of the cherry from the pit. I know how to do that, pretty sure I learned as a very tiny girl. A lesson that stayed tucked in the back of my mind like biting into watermelon and stopping just short of the rind. Sometimes we gotta go through life like we devour fruit - eat the fruit, spit the pits. We gotta keep our sift game strong so when thoughts come, some to rob our joy and speak our defeat, others to inspire us onward, we know what to toss and what to keep. Guess life is like a bowl of cherries after all.

Jodi