Even as a little girl I loved marble. Eons later I still do.
Now, do I have marble counter tops or even ones which look like marble? Uh, no. Certain things just don't seem to be able to happen 'round here--and that is one of them.
Remember that post where I suggested rather than complaining about what you can't do, just do what you can? Well, once again I heeded my own advice. From Ebay for a good price, I (finally) bought a marble pastry board--
Ooooo. I loved it so much that, immediately, I stepped here to the computer and ordered another one. It arrived yesterday afternoon --
Now of course, they're not the same as whole new counter tops and yet? They still delight my eyes and senses: the sound of Fiestware as it's placed upon the marble. The juxtaposition of ceramic or glass upon it. The warm glow of a lamp upon a cool stone surface.
And I'm not even planning on actually using them for pastry or slicing vegetables. Nah, I just enjoy staring at them. And feeling happy.
At this moment, I don't need a whole, long hunk of marble to make me any happier than I am already.
(And somewhere, there's a lesson mixed up in all that.)
Tom, being male and all, enjoys describing his aches and pains. Me? Not so much.
Like, I've not even told you that for two months I've had a bit of plantar fasciitis. For the blissfully ignorant of such things, that's where the bottom of your heel hurts when you walk upon it.
Now, it's not been a bad case (and oh, people out there have much worse problems). I've read about what helps and given my foot lots of rest and become adept at walking on tip-toe with barely a limp. Yet twice I took walks when I thought it had healed, but alas, no, it hadn't. Ouch.
But hey, it's not been a big deal and not too painful--just mostly annoying.
So why even mention it? Because of this, I've still not visited that new coffee shop around the corner. The one I declared I'd walk to the minute they opened, the one which God granted me as a reprieve for never stepping into the one which closed.
And uh-oh. I've been nervous that--after 6 weeks of being opened--they'll shut-down before I get there. (Tsk. Tsk. Oh Debra of Little Faith.)
Maybe I'll do Plan B. Instead of walking there, perhaps I'll have Tom drive me and we'll go inside together. He did sweetly volunteer earlier for that, but I told him he'd had his chance with the last place--twice I'd hinted I'd like us to go, but he just nodded and kept on driving. So this time I said, "No, I'll go by myself so I can be sure I get there."
Hmmm. Ol' Debra might just have to eat some crow with her donut while she and Tom sit at a table in that shop. If they do actually make it this time.
(The lesson here is pretty clear--always keep your options open and don't go burning any bridges you may want to someday cross.) 😉