Through trials and frustrations, Mrs. Micah opens a store!

An e-store. At Etsy. The one I mentioned? "Hand Quilted by Laurel." Laurel's my middle name. One of my middle names. The one that isn't my maiden name. I put up pics of the quilt I'm selling, "American Dream" it's called. I'm not sure why, but I don't understand a lot of quilt names. I think it's great they have names, though. Sometimes I understand them and either way I love being connected to a broader quilting community.

Oh, btw, 90% of what I make from the quilt will go to charity. Probably to World Vision's program which allows you to give animals, support places which rescue child prostitutes, build wells, help women start businesses, that kind of thing. I particularly like WV because they preach the Gospel but don't force it on people or even force them to listen. They "preach" by love. I have a sponsored child who's Hindu, I've sponsored her for years and she hasn't converted. That's not my goal. If she decides to become Christian through their love, excellent, but I know they haven't forced her to do anything in exchange for help. (I had a friend who worked for them who first told me about their non-proselytization)

Today was my first day of "Not Sweating the Small Stuff." Click here to see how that went.

For the first time this week, I had a sub-par day at work. Did learn one new thing, but it was very late in the day. So I spent a lot of time being bored out of my mind. Then I pulled myself together and made my day a bit better. Here's an excerpt from my handy notebook:

I'm feeling bad because there's nothing I'm doing for work right now. Bad = tired, fatigued, depressed, worried. Ironically, I may be sweating the small stuff of inactivity. Being annoyed by nothing itself.

So what does this mean? First, it's a chance to practice wisdom through just sitting and through enjoying a silent inbox. I can learn about the "just sitting" that Buddhists talk about, but that I have trouble finding time for.

Second, I can use this time to work on important things, like my letter abt. B or my "spiritual autobiography." Let me use Cognitive Behavioral Therapy methods to make myself less afraid.

I did just that and ended up writing my spiritual autobiography. I tried sitting quietly and breathing and my brain flipped out. Must have been using too much effort. Oh well, I can do that another day.

When I got home, I was tired again and and a bit depressed. I was content to lie around and feel sorry for myself, but Mr. Micah decided that wasn't a good idea. So he helped me get dressed and we set out for a walk. Before we'd gotten a few minutes in, we were discussing puppy dogs (so many! including ferocious ones), the house we eventually want to get, his students, philosophy, etc. Some of those took more than a few minutes, I'll grant you.

We walked for at least 20 minutes around the nice neighborhood next to ours. It's middle class in the "real" middle class way. Not McMansions, but nice little houses. All sorts of shapes and sizes and colors. Some bigish ones, some tiny (one looked to be not much bigger than our apartment), most medium, all probably built well before 1975. I loved the variety and diversity. Our apartment complex makes me feel in the minority. I have only seen one other white couple, everyone else is black. Not even a nice mix of Hispanic, Asian, South Asian, etc. This neighborhood had more ethnic diversity. Black, white, and Hispanic. That's enough for me. I grew up in a town which had a large representation of people of all races and ethnic backgrounds. It was strange living in a very white PA during college and now living in a very black apartment complex. But that's really another post in itself. Sufficeth to say that I felt more at home.

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