A Lack of Calcium

I read in one of my Grandmother's craft/feminine lifestyle type magazines that small bouts of depression could be due to a lack of calcium.

I hardly ever drink milk...unless it's in my coffee, and I don't think that counts.

This weekend I had 3 glasses of 2% milk.



I don't think it will necessarily work, but I'm glad that I'm searching for options to stop feeling like this.

Can you imagine someone writing a short scene where the leading lady honestly believes her romance woes will magically go away by drinking a glass of milk?

Silly.


I don't need the hassle. The stress.

Yet I still hold on to this letter...and at the bottom of it, it reads, "I don't send love letters. I write them, and then keep them in my desk drawer until they're no longer relevant."

I just want to send it...share it.

I need a glass of milk.




Here's something I made at Grandma Ellamae's. We geeked out over craft supplies, tricks and methods. We took notes listening to each other, and it was nice to see someone else's irises spark to new ideas. Reminds me why I do this...why I want to go, why I want to grow. I played with paper punches, rubber stamps, bleach, markers, pens, and watercolor pastel crayons.

I took silly pictures with the children of my relatives, slept in a bed that was made fresh just for me, like I was staying in a hotel with familiar scents. A hotel built just for me.

So, here I go...to the fridge to fix this lack of calcium.

That's all it is.