One Good Thing

WTWAMy new motto is; “Do One Good Thing” for myself every day. Because, let’s face it, if I don’t take care of me, and make myself feel special, it’s likely not going to happen. That’s not a dig on my sweet husband (who is my biggest advocate and cheerleader, or my friends and family), but it speaks to the truth that I must feel worthy, by treating myself special, before anyone else can. Anyway.

This past week, I did one good thing for myself all week long! I attended my first writer’s academy (not a conference—big difference). West Texas Writer’s Academy in Canyon, Texas. #WTWA

Everything from the campus, to the faculty, to the food and the other writers, met or far exceeded my expectations. I’d  heard ‘this was the best thing I’ve ever done for my writing’ from more than one person beforehand, and I came away with the exact same sentiment.

Wow! Every day my brain was filled to capacity with information that, when put into practice, will make me a better writer. It was the most positive, supportive environment I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing, and the friendships I made will be with me a lifetime—that’s what happens when you find your tribe. I’m already looking forward to attending again and again, and putting into practice the long-term goals the week helped me define.

Do yourself a couple of favors; do one good thing for yourself today, and every day. Then, go find your tribe.

You’ll thank me, and you’ll be better equipped to go out and do one good thing for someone else…which is the reason I believe we’re here.

Holy Guacamole

guacamole

There we sat. Three generations of strong, smart women — sharing bowls of queso, chips and delicious guacamole. My daughter and I on one side of the booth, my Mom on the other.

We barely had an hour for lunch, but we were making the most of it.  Angela, our oh-so-cute waitress took our orders and poured iced teas. It was a noisy Monday lunch crowd, but we managed to converse, laugh and enjoy each other’s company.

Until, when we were about half way finished with our meal, three 30ish men were seated in the booth behind us.

Their crass conversation halted my ability to hear anything but them. It centered on the Tinder App, and on-line dating in general. On conquests. On drinking. On swiping right, and on the preferred size of women’s breasts. They bragged and they shared, and it went on, and on, and on.

At one point, my daughter leaned in and whispered, “I can’t help but…“ “Eavesdrop?” I finished her sentence. We both laughed, rolled our eyes and did our best to maintain.

“I hope Grandma can’t hear,” she said.

“Me too.”

Soon, it was time to go. I asked Angela to bring me the check.

I was buying this lunch…

…until Angela returned moments later and announced, “Your check has magically been taken care of!” Her smile was bright, and it was clear she enjoyed delivering such news. And then she was gone.

The three of us shared a brief moment of confusion, exchanged questioning looks, and then burst into smiles. It was a first for all of us.  Holy Guacamole!  Someone had just paid for our lunch. I glanced around the crowded restaurant, searching for a familiar face, or one holding a secret.  But the generous benefactor remained anonymous.

“I guess we’ll all be paying this forward,” my precious child said as we stood to leave.

Yes indeed.

Merry Christmas!