My last post was a little on the heavy side, delving a bit deeper into anxiety, but hopefully shining some light on my favorite topic: loving our fabulous selves! Today I’d like to stick with the love theme, but take a step away from the serious, and a leap toward the frivolous. I’d like to write a love letter to my favorite, most non-essential things.
Dear Lentil Hummus,
You are delicious. I love you on pretzels, crackers, and occasionally pasta (don’t knock it til you try it). You are salty, and sweet, and totally worth the occasional gas. When you are on BOGO at Publix, I buy four of you and don’t regret a thing. All four will be gone in a week.
Dear Fuzzy Slippers,
You are a comforting stuffed animal that isn’t lame because I wear you on my feet. Thanks to you, I don’t slip on the wet floor that inevitably comes after my dog sloppily laps up a gallon of water (he’s adorable, but messy). When I lose you under pieces of furniture, you helpfully collect all sorts of cat hair and dust that would sit there for years otherwise, and when I find you, you are a furry, gross surprise.
Dear Day Planner,
I may just love you most of all. You hold my lists, and my lists of lists. You make me feel equally grown-up and youthful thanks to your organizational prowess and adorable, colorful design. You hold my intentions for the week as well as my coupons. You’re way more fun that the lists in my phone, because you let me cross things out with gusto and furiously rip pages when tasks just cannot be done.
Dear Hot Cup of Tea,
You are a cozy sweater for my insides. You make me feel calm when the world is chaotic. You warm my hands and soothe my throat. You are pretty to look at, dressed in my favorite mug, and smell like everything is going to be ok.
Dear Yoga Towel,
I am a sweaty beast, and you love me anyway. When my hands are slipping in downward dog, sending me dangerously close to downward belly flop, you give me the friction I need. When I can no longer see due to my dripping brow, you sop off the grossness. You come in pretty colors, making me feel girly despite looking like my dad after a run (Sorry Dad, it’s a good look on you, just not on your daughter).
Dear Kia Soul,
I have never been a car person, but you have won my heart. You make me feel responsible and also kind of cooky, which I never thought I’d be able to pull off. You don’t judge me for not washing you…ever. My “save a life, adopt a shelter animal” sticker looks awesome on you. You hold lots of room for groceries, because mama needs her lentil hummus.
I’d love to see your list of love letters to non-essential items. Sometimes it’s fun- important, even- to be grateful for the stuff we have that we could totally live without…but don’t have to.