Wildflower Writes

It all started with an empty coffee cup.  My employer graciously provides carafes of coffee for the administrative staff on a daily basis. It is a provision I've become accustomed to, routinely grabbing my empty cup to visit the water cooler, where three carafes sit neatly in a row.  This morning, the carafes were missing. I knew the cafeteria supervisor was out for the day, and maybe the staff was off too. What to do? I'd been imagining that dark, aromatic liquid since I pulled in the parking lot.  I could wait. Maybe he was just running late. The coffee might appear eventually. I could go investigate. I could see if anyone's here today to make coffee. That wouldn't actually help me obtain any, though. I could sneak into the transportation office. I know the secretary has her own coffee pot. I'm sure she would share if I asked.  I could text a co-worker who hasn't arrived in the office yet. If my sob story was compelling enough, she might bring me coffee.  I co...

Have you read the book, “How Full is Your Bucket?” by Tom Rath and Donald Clifton? It was required reading by my company a few years ago, and I was surprised to discover my son learning the same concepts in kindergarten. The premise is this: Everyone has a bucket. When it’s full, you feel good. When it’s empty, you feel bad. You fill others’ buckets by doing things that make them feel good. You take away from their buckets when you do things that cause negative feelings. Your own bucket is filled when you fill others’ or when they add to yours. Although this much my 6-year old could grasp, it gets more complicated. The same things that fills some people’s buckets may not fill others. For example, words of affirmation may fill one person’s bucket more, and gifts may fill someone else’s more. Also, based on this concept, you have to make choices about spending time with people, depending on whether or not they tend to give to or take away from your bucket. You also have the c...

Bright blank computer screen Empty, used-up head Vacated for vacation Should be tucked in bed Full, bloated belly Too much Italian for me Need room for dessert Wasn’t meant to be Not jet lag but van lag One hundred forty-six miles A measly two-hour meeting Rather count ceiling tiles Itchy t-neck sweater Makes me look like a tent Too pretty to trash it Giver may wonder where it went Contacts stuck to eyeballs Need to use some drops Wishing to afford Lasik Then I’d make all the stops Throat dry as a desert Water only six steps away Breath smells like garlic Toothbrush in travel bag today Love everybody with my big heart Love them down to my soles Wish I could give some more Like a job or nice new Rolls Time to call it a night Ready to relax and de-stress Try to let it go without a fight I’m uninspired, I confess