ATTENTION BEER CONNOISSEURS AND LOVERS OF PEOPLE:

Water.org is partnering/collaborating with Stella Artois to bring to us gorgeous glassware, and in return we are given the gift of providing clean drinking water to the poorest villages in Ethiopia, Honduras, and India. And this is not just a one time deal, a cup of water and then back to disease and dehydration. Oh, no. No siree. This gift will last for FIVE YEARS.

Count ’em:

One,

two,

three,

four,

FIVE!

My people, my people, this is an opportunity to do something extraordinary, to almost literally be the hands of Jesus. This is your chance to change dirty water into a life-saving MIRACLE.
And here is the best part. Well, no. The best part is obvious, but the most convenient part is pretty awesome too. How much will it cost you to be the almost-literal hands of Jesus? About three hotdogs on a stick. Yep. $12.00.
!
!
!
Nope, that is not a typo. Two zeros. THAT IS ALL! And the bonus? The chalices are sort of, kind of stunning; the kind of glasses you put behind see-through cabinets or in the very front, so that when people open your cupboards they immediately ooo and ahhh over your style and panache. ARE YOU HEARING ME? You can have PANACHE for $12.00.

Okay, sales gimmick over.

Let’s just do something important today. Let’s reach and heal and bless and love hundreds, possibly thousands, of people. Let us prove that chivalry is not dead at all. It is alive and well, moving and romancing and changing the world one beautiful person at a time.

Let’s buy a lady a drink.

ūüíó,

Cara

Amazon

BuyALadyADrink

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Doing It All

Do you ever find yourself muttering or declaring with savagery that there is never enough time?

We rise in the a.m. with high hopes and ambitions, only to lay our heads back down in the p.m. feeling unaccomplished, bedraggled, and a little despondent. Like we will never catch up. Like life is a kite string we stumble toward and chase after, on good days managing to graze with our fingertips and the rest of the time spend trying not to lose our tenuous grip.

Slow down!

Come back!

Wait for me!

Life is an earless animal. It does not hear us when we shout at it. Nor is it a kind stranger sitting in a crowded bus; it will not scoot over and make room for us. It gives us what it gives us. The same amount, everyday, rain or shine. I have realized that I cannot do it all. Maybe you will be surprised to know this came as quite a shock to me. Or maybe not. Maybe it surprised you too at first. I laughed. I said, Oh, no. I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken. You see, I am a¬†multitasker. I do several things at once.¬†It’s like my second job.¬†So really I can do it all. What’s that? I look a bit strung out to you? Dark circles under my eyes? No, no, no, no. I can see how you might think–but no. No. Those are productive circles. Very different. They mean I am fulfilled. Yes, exactly. Fulfilled. Now you understand. Would you like to join me? I’m just going to take a seat here where I can make lunches, check my e-mail, water the lawn, and shave my legs.

cutest-calendars-around

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So Long But Not Farewell

SO long, is right . . . my goodness, it feels like a century has passed since the last time I sat down to compose a post! I think I actually saw a spider crawl across my screen when I opened WordPress . . .

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Sunday Played Her Best

Tossing and turning isn’t so good unless you’re a pancake or a sunflower.

And even church is subject to a schedule. So with that

a change of plans was in order, because I wasn’t about to let time get away with another easy cantrip.

Foggy ears and ringing eyes, I would see twice as well, hear sounds amusing and unsung.

It took a moment or seventeen, but I first caught her tune on the whir of the washing machine.

Ah-rhum-rhum-rhum Ah-rhum-ahrum-ahrum Ah-rhum-rhum-rhum.

Vibrations danced on my bones, turning them a way I hadn’t thought of in a while but should have.

They remembered

the highlights, but had forgotten the whole story, whittled it down to something gauzy and fair, and just a little smug.

A break in the motion brought my heart up fast: LhulRooKlunk.

A tremor, a tremble, a trombone — that’s where I felt her next: in the mustache

of the man playing brass crowns, and Little Walter’s sensational cup. Play, Walter, play

and take me on a journey of blues and jazz, and all that punchy pizazz. I could never be as cool as you, but my toes don’t know that, so we won’t tell ’em.

I smiled at them; them like children who haven’t any idea their clothes are on inside out.

And backward.

The telephone rang: R-rwaaring-R-rwaaring-R-rawaaring.

. . . . . and I really was surprised to find her there. She sang for a little while

until she finally tired of being ignored. Then she talked to that Voice, but I stopped listening after that because she had already hung up.

I couldn’t blame her.

Swish, swish, swish–plink! He stood over that club,¬†determined as beets

to make air soar and grass stick. Air was in some mood today and rerouted his plans; to Tibet, I think.

He smiled about it.

And of all the sounds I heard, all of Sunday’s finest playing in my ear,

it was your smile, sweet dear, majestic man, that I longed most to hear.

Something is Mi ing

*Deep breath*

Beginning this post has caused me a fair amount of unease . . . I feel like I’m stalled in neutral, burning rubber, with the words “GO!” blinking green over my head, but each time I think I might be ready to do just that, I lose all momentum and peter out again, left inhaling the noxious fumes of my own exhaust pipe.

I suppose the wise thing to do would be to take some more time and process, then come back when I do know where to begin. The only problem with that is I can’t seem to move on — or if I’m using the same analogy — I can’t seem to get out of the vehicle and leave it be while I go off to think. When I try, it jumps onto my shoulders and rides piggy-back, making it rather difficult to go on with my day.

I need this car off my shoulders.

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