Blessings are like stars.

This is what I wanted to be doing last night, cowboy boots and all. There was a meteor shower and I missed it. If any of you got up in the wee hours of the morning to see it, I applaud you.


Me? I chose warmth and sleep over the chilly excitement of falling stars. This isn't like me. When I was younger, I lived in my van, and then in my bus. Once, I lived in the redwoods, in a cabin made of two cargo crates pushed together and outfitted with a garden hose for water. I've relocated across the Atlantic more times than I can count and I've been to more countries than I have fingers.


And last night, I wouldn't get out of bed to see a meteor shower.


Well, maybe it's age and maybe it's fibro. Maybe it's both. In any case, the body needs what it needs, and I'm learning to listen without judgment. There are smaller pleasures in front of my nose to be content with in those times when the stars seem out of reach.


My cat was warming my feet when I woke this morning. Now, I'm sitting in my favorite cybercafe, where the coffee is good and the WIFI works. A squirrel ran across the road as I drove to town and made me smile. In the car, XM played my favorite music. The sun is shining and it's crisp and fresh here in Ensenada. And the DMV deigned to send me my license plates today. Hey! All in all, not a bad morning!


I missed counting the stars last night, falling and otherwise. But here's another FIBRO TIP: Count your blessings. God is on His throne and all is well.


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