The New Handshake

As I approached the check-in area where I work, the person checking me in pulled up her mask and I immediately put on my mask. 

I mentioned this to her, wistfully remembering the pre-COVID days when such an act may have been considered questionable. 

I then smiled under my mask while hoping the smile made it up to my eyes and said the donning of masks in each other's presence is the new handshake.

I respect you, you respect me; I protect you, you protect me. It is a sign of our times.

Our new normal is evolving. Stay safe everyone.

Time Flies

I have discovered the secret to making the months fly by is to become a bookkeeper, an accountant or any line of work that has monthly deadlines. Add working from home to the mix and these COVID months have flown by so fast I am one of the rare few who wouldn't mind going back to the beginning of all of this and doing it all over again.

Why in the world would a person want time to go by so fast? In all my years of saving, budgeting and paying off debt, "pay day" was the day of the month I most anticipated. It was the day I could knock a few more dollars off my debt load, pay off the bills and bring myself back to zero, or add to my savings (the savings part goes back to my younger, B.D. - Before Debt years). 

It doesn't matter how much or how little I make; how high or low my debt load is; or how comfortable my life should be financially, I tend to find myself recreating scarcity when it comes to my finances.

When I was working full time, paying for daycare, upgrading my wardrobe, putting more dollars into car maintenance and all the costs associated with working I always felt broke. When a window opened where it seemed like I could breathe a little easier, I added retirement savings, insurance and a regular savings plan to my budgeting scheme to ensure all annual bills were anticipated and ready to pay to recreate the feeling of never having quite enough. 

When I opened my daycare, I didn't earn enough to pay the bills at first. I dipped into my RRSP to shingle the roof. I withdrew the un-locked portion of my pension to make ends meet. I did what it took to keep the bills paid. There was no room for saving but I was at home and paying the bills. I was rich in all the ways that mattered. Just not financially.

Eventually, my daycare income became stable enough to sustain our household expenses. Once again I found ways to return to the feeling of scarcity in the budget. Whether it was house repairs or simply extra-curricular spending, I always seemed to find a way to feel like I was one pay cheque away from financial ruin.

Then came The Year of Mom. The year I ran out to Mom's whenever the need or desire arose. My employment situation was flexible enough to allow for me to take time off and go on a whim. This unpaid time off was subsidized by another pension fund withdrawal. I made it work despite the hit to my income.

I should have been on easy street from that point forward but there was the Year of Fly Away Vacations, followed by the Year of Renovations. At each and every juncture I spent just a little more than I had. 

I juggled here and there to keep balancing to zero but at the end of last year's renovations I was officially $5,000.00 in the hole. 

I thought I was in a place where I could easily pay it off in five, $1,000.00 monthly installments. I was so wrong. My annual savings account where I carefully allotted a set monthly amount to cover the larger annual expenses went by the wayside several years ago. One unexpected expense after another delayed my payment strategy. Now that the months are flying by and I have no incoming invitations and life's expenses have become predictable and manageable my debt will be paid in full tomorrow. Yay!!

This will be followed by paying my taxes, then saving for house insurance and car plates/insurance BUT if no unexpected expenses arise, I could be back in the driver's seat of managing my finances by November.

This is a big "if". There are so many unknown variables. In the meantime, I'm grateful for the speed with which I turn over a new calendar page. With each page, comes the hope that I'm one month closer to financial ease. 

Time flies when you are meeting deadlines.

Housework Hurts

I took on domestic chores in a very selective and time limited way this weekend.

Day #1 - I cooked. Egg salad, mashed potatoes and Stove Top Stuffing. I thought I would never get out of the kitchen. 

I love boiling eggs. They are the best food to cook. No fussing required. They were so easy I almost forgot I had boiled them. Then came the peeling part. The shells came off in a bazillion pieces. Why in the world did I boil so many eggs? Eventually I completed the task and knew it would be worth it when I sat down to enjoy a egg salad sandwich later. It was a little crunchier than usual. Some egg shells must have got by me. 

Then I peeled potatoes. Boiling eggs is so much more fun. I used up the remainder of a ten pound bag of potatoes. I swear I must have peeled seven of the ten pounds. It felt like the bag would never run empty. I knew there was a finite amount of potatoes in the bag so I forged on. It took forever but eventually I completed the mission.

Once the potatoes were cooked, all I had to do was mash them, clean up the kitchen and I could move on with my day. I went about the task like I always do, plugged in the mix master and whirrrrrr!!! The power switch was on and I counted my lucky stars that my finger tips just missed the whirling beaters. If I hadn't cut my fingernails, I'm pretty sure I would have got tangled up in them. I'm not a big fan of cooking but I've never considered it dangerous until yesterday.

I survived the first day.

Day #2 - I vacuumed. I've already written about this (see below) so I will say no more. Except I caught the tips of my toes in the beater bar of the vacuum cleaner. Not only is cooking dangerous, so is vacuuming. 

There is a reason cooking and housework have fallen to the bottom of my to-do-list. They are death defying feats for the inexperienced. Domestic duties should come with a warning label.

I barely survived the weekend with my fingers and toes intact. 

To Infinity and Beyond

I know the definition of infinite. I look at our cats and I know there is a finite amount of hair on them. But when it comes to vacuuming said hair? There is no end.

I vacuumed for three hours today. Then I sat down at the computer table in the kitchen and there are black cat hairs violating the space I just vacuumed. 

This all started because I washed my sheets this morning. My morning ritual of using the lint brush to rid the bedding of excess cat hair was topped up with vacuuming the quilt, then throwing it in the dryer to "fluff" and collect any cat hair that remained. There was lots.

I proceeded to vacuum every most of the nooks and crannies in my room. At one point I was standing still and a tuft of black hair wafted right into my line of sight. I vacuumed the air around me.

I vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed some more. I vacuumed the baseboards, some walls that had stray cat hair on them, doors, tops of the door frames, the foot pads on the chairs, end tables, couches, the stove (yes, the stove top too) and so much more. 

Cat hair was everywhere.

I started dreaming of owning hairless cats then admonished myself for being so racist when it comes to cats. I like cats with fur. I have a tendency to prefer black cats. I like short haired cats. Male cats. If the cat kingdom knew my thoughts, our front yard would be littered with cats protesting "ALL cats matter".

Racist or not, I like my cats with hair. To infinity and beyond!

The Brave Rabbit

My aunt's deck faces onto a park-like setting. It is a large green space with flowers, shrubs, trees,  a community garden and raspberry bushes in sight. There is a small ravine-like area nearby and even though the city has grown up around this area, it is a little oasis unto itself.

Rabbits dwell somewhere in the greenery and show themselves regularly. We have no idea how many rabbits actually live in the area. One time five of them hopped into plain sight when the weekly lawn maintenance crew scared them out of their hiding spots, so I believe there are many more than meet the eye.

The rabbits have grown accustomed to their neighbors. The average age within this community may be around 85 years, with a vast majority of the residents walking with the assistance of a walker. It's a quiet, slow moving, nature loving group. If I was a rabbit, this is definitely a place I would like to call home.

Last night, there was a group of all ages gathered together to provide some entertainment to the residents. My best guess is they were doing Taekwondo or some variation of the martial arts. 

Three of the younger crowd gathered spotted a rabbit and started chasing it. The rabbit must have been in a state of shock, being pursued by these fast moving humans. Instead of running in a straight line that would have led to a means of escape, the rabbit darted into a corner and had to weave and dodge to avoid its enemy.

One of the adults in the group noticed the rabbit chase and called the children off. The kids quickly heeded the command. I could feel a collective sigh of relief as the rabbit immediately knew it was out of danger.

Then what did the rabbit do? It maintained its course. It stayed in its location and edged even closer to the group. It nibbled on the newly sodded grass, wandered through the flower garden, ate a white petunia and took its merry time before it left the area.

I could have swore the rabbit looked up and watched me watching it. I think this may have been the rabbit I have bonded with recently. I have walked by and made eye contact with a rabbit on this new patch of sod a few nights as I left my aunts. I walked very close to it, it looked toward me with one ear back and one ear fully alert.

I felt a connection to the rabbit on the run. I was amazed it stayed the course and did not run off into the nearby forest to ensure its safety. When it not only stayed in the area but moved even closer to the young, fast moving group I couldn't help but wonder what instincts were guiding it. 

The wistful part of me hoped it was a God wink intended just for me. I had just written about Mom and she has been in my thoughts and conversations a lot lately. Mom. Me. Rabbits. We have a connection. If Mom could find a way to communicate with me in her absence, I think she would choose the language of rabbits.

My brave little rabbit. You may have been protecting your young and just diverting the attention of your pursuers from them. But I choose to think you were watching me watching you. It is wishful thinking but I am comforted by the thought that you could be a little God wink from Mom ...

Tough Love

I feel my inner child resurface when life gets hard - the part of me that wants to sit next to Mom and let her do my talking.

Mom was a fierce ally to have on my side throughout my life. When the chips were down, Mom had my back. She defended me. She supported me. She provided whatever was required to do what had to be done. She was there. Through thick and thin. No matter what.

In the aftermath of Mom's death, there was a void in my life no one would ever fill again. 

Life went on. I grew a little more. I endured. I pushed through. My skin got a little thicker. I longed for the days when I could drive out to Mom's and just be her daughter for a while.

There are the days I just want to be coddled and cajoled and gently urged to push through the moment I'm in. Yesterday morning was one of those days. 

The prevalent morning thought I had was to seek out a TED Talk on feeling overwhelmed to substitute for a conversation with Mom. I thought I needed some gentle urging.

Then I came upon Shia LaBeouf's "Just Do It" motivational speech. One minute and four seconds. Perfect. I had a busy day ahead of me and I didn't want to fritter away the morning. 

Then BAM! The first two words out of his mouth were exactly what I needed to hear: 

"DO IT!!"

Sometimes what we think we need is not what we need at all. A gentle nudge isn't always the best thing for us. I'm going to keep this guy on speed dial (or at least add him to my Bookmark bar).

There is no time to waste. I need to take Shia's advise and do it all over again today. No pussyfooting around...

"JUST DO IT!!!!"

The Only Way Through It

I am feeling so overwhelmed at the moment, I don't know where to start.

It's work. It's only work. But work has moved into our home with me and I'm still adjusting to my new roommate.

It sits there taunting me. Teasing me. Telling me. Beckoning me. Guilting me. Thank goodness my new roomie has a room of its own. I shut the door on it but I still hear it calling.

I invited this guest to move in with me. We are just going through an adjustment period. 

I have so much to do that my new companion woke me up at 3 a.m. This roommate is so disruptive.

As I sat with my morning coffee while attempting to write some morning pages, my pen told me what I already knew. The only way through it is to do it.

Just do it! 

Shia LaBeouf "Just Do It" Motivational Speech (Original Video by LaBeouf...

After writing my post this morning, I googled "Just do it", expecting to find this phrase coined by Nike to come with a Nike logo and gently ease me into the day. Instead? I found this:

I'm going to have this guy's voice in my head all day. Thank you!!

Three Years

Last week, I read and reflected on the thought "What if this was your last week ..." A seed was planted that grew into a dream. A dream that felt amazingly light and brought an incredible sense of peace.

I can recall my dream in fragments. What I remember was being told (presumably by a doctor) that I had only three years to live. My response was a surprise to the person who imparted this news in my dream. "Three years?!" Three years was perfect!!

Three years would give me ample time to "clean house" and prepare. I would have lots of time to spend with family, friends, gatherings and re-unioning (obviously I was not concerned with COVID-19 within my dream state). I only had to concern myself with three more years of financially supporting myself?! 

Everything felt so attainable. Three years was perfect!!

I forgot about that dream until I started writing this morning. It is impossible to know what three years will bring. The ground beneath my feet feels uncertain at the moment. Kind of like I'm walking in quicksand and ever fearful of being pulled under.

Three years.

Why don't I "clean house" figuratively and literally? Not in one weekend. Just adopt a mindset of cleaning up the clutter within our home, my mind and my world in general.

Three years. 

My son should be close to completing his education and looking at the world beyond "home". My work world will have evolved into something different than today.  

Three years.

It is impossible to predict where things will be in three years. But what if a doctor told me I had three years to live. You can bet that I would spend those years wisely.

Why not spend my time wisely anyway?

Moving Through Monday

Monday morning felt hard. I wanted to curl up into a cocoon and wait for a metamorphosis to occur. I've been a caterpillar long enough. I just want to regroup and become something more.

I couldn't wrap myself up in a blanket and quit. So I did the next best thing. I set some boundaries to create some of what I needed. 

"This" is what I'm going through. "This" is where I am at right now. "This" is what I need today.

I put my request out into the world and I was granted a reprieve. Once I was given that space to replenish and revive myself, that is exactly what I did.

The moment I was given the gift space and time, the weight of the world was lifted. Once the world got off my shoulders, I had the energy to start. 

Starting feels hard some days. The alternative is not a good one. When you don't begin, the finish line is impossible to see and the task set before you feels impossible.

Start. Just start. Something. Anything. 

So much easier said than done. There is a fine line between taking the time you need to replenish your resources and finding yourself in a place where you feel overwhelmed and incapable.

Been there, done that. I'm sure I'll be there again. 

The cycles of life. If we've done this all before, why does it still feel so hard some days?

Sunday

Sunday has been and continues to be my favorite day of the week. How I could fritter away the entirety of my favorite day doing so very little is quite astounding. 

I've become the queen of "doing nothing". The unfortunate part is, I'm not doing it well.

I woke up to my weekend hangover of nothingness feeling absolutely, completely and totally spent. What the heck is wrong with me?!?

Then ... I looked at my existence from the outside, looking in and decided to give myself a break.

When I got outside my own head for a minute, I saw myself and the role I have been playing within my small little world. The words that came to mind as I looked at this alien version of myself was "Supporting Person".

I'm not the star in my own show. Other story lines are running through my own. I listen. I relate. I do my best to understand. I am there. Not in a big way. Just in a small understated "supporting role".

When I validated my role, I forgave myself for feeling mentally inept over the course of the weekend. One cannot continue to do nothing for forever. But one weekend? What has been done cannot be undone. Just take one step in a forward direction.

A new week awaits.

Waking Up Saturday

My word well seemed to run dry over the course of the weekend so I'm going to rewind the clock to see if I can find out why ...

I socialized with four people outside my safe little "bubble" on Friday. It was awesome. The moment I was in was the best moment I've been in for a while. It was everything I loved about the life I used to live when I was fully immersed in family.

I woke up Saturday morning feeling the afterglow of such an amazing reunion. Then the reality of our current day world came crashing in on me. 

We were not properly socially distanced. We were in a confined space. We shared food. There was open food on the table. 

Not only was I exposed to those whose company I kept, I was exposed to all those who they had been exposed to. Suddenly I had a visual of the diagram I have seen pop into my consciousness. I have read how community exposure to the Coronavirus can be equated to sexually transmitted diseases. When you sleep with one person, you are immediately sleeping with all their partners and their partner's partners and so on and so forth.

Never have I ever wanted to isolate and insulate myself from the world so much. 

My request was denied and I had to move onward. Then came Sunday.

If This Was Your Last Week

I read the question "If this was your last week, who would you choose to spend it with and what would you do?" within a blog I follow (Be More With Less). If I had one week?!??

I stopped in my tracks at "one week left". If I had a firm date of expiry, I would have to do so very much in order to settle in and enjoy that last week.

The clutter. The shredding. I would gift. I would give. I would toss. I would ensure my estate plan would do what I wanted it to do. 

I would leave notes. I would write. I would phone. 

I would leave a clean house.

Have you noticed I have not yet left my home? I could visit so many more people if I could just reach out and phone them. Staying home is simply so much more time efficient. And safer during this Time of the Coronavirus.

Yet ... if this was my last week, I would like to hope my house was already in order. Then I would open my door (or gate, if the COVID distancing recommendations were still in place), turn on the coffee, stock up on cold beverages, buy some snacks and let the visiting begin. 

I didn't need a global pandemic to remind me to stay home. This is where I've wanted to be all along. 

Need I Say More?

Guess who hopped by this morning?

Multitasking

Multitasking - the art of successfully accomplishing multiple tasks at the same time. At one point, I considered myself an efficient multi-tasker. 

I hit my stride during my daycare days. I could serve lunch to a table full of pre-schoolers, feed the babies two at a time, refill plates of the toddlers, catch something before it hit the floor, watch over table manners and behaviour, while eating my lunch at the same time. 

I ran a well oiled machine here in those days. There was much to be done and only one person to do it. No choice. No problem. 

I didn't have time to think. I simply had time to act. I did what had to be done. 

Fast forward to the present. I now have a very difficult time asking a question and listening to the response in the appropriate time it takes a person to have a conversation. My attention span is that of a gnat. I have much to do and nothing seems to be getting done. 

This morning I turned on the news to watch a recap of Trudeau's COVID-19 update. I haven't watched the news for several weeks so I was amazed with the changes since I last tuned in. Not only do they have one person in the corner communicating in sign language, they have a second person in the other corner signing different hand gestures, while a third narrator is translating French to English.

What?!

Is there one sign language for French and another for English? I guess I assumed sign language was universal. I must be wrong. How in the world do they listen and translate simultaneously? I have tried listening to two people talk at the same time and hear neither. These people are listening, speaking, signing and are able to keep up with what is being said while translating what they just heard.

Color me impressed.

They suggest learning to dance, playing a musical instrument, taking different routes to your destination and doing crosswords as exercises to keep your brain functioning at its best. I'll bet these translators could do all three of the above at the same time and beat me to my destination. I'd love to see the neurotransmitters firing as they manage to listen, interpret, communicate and continue to listen at the same time. Their brains must be on fire.

I am grateful when someone doesn't ask me to repeat something I just heard. I don't gossip because I don't remember enough to retell a story. I don't change where I put something, nor do I do I hide something of value because I'm afraid I will never find it again.

Whatever you do, don't ask me what Trudeau may or may not have said in yesterday's news. I was too busy marveling at the efficiency of each of the translators. Meanwhile, I was thinking of Mom's comment when Trudeau was up for election. She said (something to the effect of) that he would get her vote because of the way he looked. Of all the things to be grateful for during this global pandemic, isn't it nice to have a rather good looking prime minister to look at while you tune into the morning news? 

Now what was I just writing about??

Reality verses Goals

I thought I set out some very easy to achieve goals at the onset of this month:

• morning pages
• blog
• spend time outdoors
• move more
• eat less

Can I just admit that I am failing miserably? 

What the heck? How much lower could I have set the bar? Could I blog my morning pages while sitting on the deck to knock three off the list in one shot?

I have been writing my own revised version of morning pages. Instead of 3, hand written 8-1/2 X 11 pages, I am writing 2, 5-1/2 X 8-1/2 pages. I am still writing by hand. I'm writing. It's not everything but it is something.

I'm trying so very hard to blog but I keep running out of time. If I write two posts this morning, it will make up for the one I missed yesterday. But there is still some catching up to do ...

Spending more time outdoors. Who would think that could be so challenging? It's too cool, too hot, too windy, too outdoorsy ...

Move more. Considering I moved very little to begin with, this should have been attainable. Take away the need to run to the printer down the hall due to a printer now residing in my office, I've lost more ground than I have gained.

Eat less. Okay. That one is really hard. I am eating all the wrong food for all the wrong reasons. And I just don't care.   

I could fritter away time better than anyone I knew prior to COVID-19 and all of the stay-at-home recommendations. When others started admitting that they too, were spending a great deal of time at home accomplishing nothing, my comment was, "Welcome to my world!" Then, I seemed to ramp it up a notch and accomplish even less than before, as if I had to win the race of doing nothing better than the newcomers to the club.

I'm not giving up. I'm getting up earlier so I can get my frittering done and over with before 9:00 a.m. This is not as easy as it sounds. You should hear some of the inane things I have been doing to distract myself from reality.

The downfall of getting up early is I am more tired than ever in the evening. I am eating more than ever, in an effort to stay awake.

I have a feeling the rut I am in is just a little too comfortable. They say discomfort is necessary in order to grow. 

I think growth is highly overrated.

Cats and Their Toys

Jet is a cat who always seems to be thinking. You can almost see the wheels turning as he navigates the human world he resides in and makes the best of his indoor-cat existence.

Jet's newest discovery -
resting in the recycling box due to some packaging paper remnants which attracted his attention this morning

He seems to teeter on the brink of boredom verses contentment. My guess is he finds his happiness somewhere in between the two. "What can I do to make this moment more interesting?" may be the human thought equivalent between what I assume is on his mind and his actions.

When he starts picking on Ray (our second cat in residence), I sometimes go on a toy hunt to distract Jet from being a pest. As much as I try to model putting the cat toys away in a small wicker box I have set out for their toys, I have never seen either cat put their toys away when they are done. Their toys are usually under the stove, fridge, couches or within sight but not within reach. 

When I hear a closet door opening without a human in sight, I can almost be certain it is Jet opening the closet to retrieve a lost toy. He hasn't managed to figure out how to open the bedroom doors due to the fact they are not lever door handles but he has mastered opening the folding closet doors like a pro. 

As much as I try to convince the cats to put their toys away when they are done, it isn't a lesson either cat is interested in learning. But this has been happening far too often to be considered a coincidence:

We have two "stuffed mice". These used to be Ray's favorite toys due to the cat nip which has lost its effect. Jet seems to have adopted these toys as his own . More often than not, I will find them carefully put to rest on my bed. I smile each and every time I find these "stuffed animals" on my bed, thinking that Jet likes to sleep with his stuffed toys and he's got them ready and waiting for cat-nap time.

Every time I see these mice waiting for me in my bed, I am just grateful Jet is not an outdoor cat. I can only imagine the "toys" he would bring home.

Life is in the Re-Telling

I visit my aunt on a regular basis. She has reached a stage in her life where her stories and recollections are on "repeat". A story will start with one memory which triggers her narrative in a predictable fashion. When she forgets a detail, I can nudge her memory to help her recall and she is off and running again.

The stories are comfortably repetitive. A few of the details are slipping. I can sense the fight within her to hold on tight to what she remembers. I am grateful when I can fill in the blank as needed.

Our conversations are not one way. She asks me about my life, my choices and we ponder parenting, our choice in careers, our past, lessons learned and our general take on life-as-we-know-it.

My story isn't one of a predictable nature. My on again, off again marriage triggers so many questions from my aunt. "Why did you keep going back?" "You came from such a different life - how could you have made that choice?"

My career wasn't one I sat and pondered. I got a job out of necessity. I honestly believe the job I had was the one best suited for me. "You should have become a teacher" she tells me on a regular basis.

The twists and turns in my story brought me to a point when I opted to walk away from the stability of a job with benefits and a pension and opened my daycare, so I could be a stay at home mom. "You are the same age as [my son] - why aren't you retired?" "You should have been a teacher" ...

Our mutual story telling goes back and forth. We have come to expect each other's responses. My aunt's theories on life become stronger with each telling. My conviction that the choices I made as I lived my life forward also become more convincing each time I re-tell my story.

My aunt reflects on her life and her take-away from life-as-she-lived it is you should enjoy life while you are young. Having fun, being physically active, being home for your children are the lessons I hear. There is an appreciation for her stable marriage and parenthood as she compares and contrasts her story to my own.

She recently told me "You have led an interesting life". The inner thoughts that run rampant through my mind as we retell our stories was silenced. Within the silence I heard the voice of my middle son once telling me, "Go on that holiday! When you start repeating your stories when you get old, I want them to be interesting ones."

Yes. I have led an interesting life. It is a life that has taught me what I needed to know. This particular path has built my character. I wouldn't be who I am today if life had been any other way.

When I start retelling my stories, I hope I remember the lessons. I hope I focus on the happy endings. I hope I tell the other side of my stories with compassion and empathy for the other party(s).

There is a benefit to repeating the same conversations on a regular basis. I have the opportunity to revise and refine my responses as time progresses.

When I start repeating my stories when I get old, I hope they are interesting ones.

I can almost hear the voice of my son saying (half serious, half in jest), "You aren't all that interesting now so why would you think anything will change?" 

Good Morning!

I woke up this morning, opened the blinds and windows and sat in this spot:

Writing

Setting goals

Savoring a cup of coffee 

And it was enough.

Rebirth

Today is my youngest son's twenty second birthday. It is no wonder when I sat down with an empty page, pen in one hand and coffee in the other this morning, that my pen started to ramble on birth and rebirth. My thoughts took me down memory lane as I thought of the birth of each of my sons and how I was reborn each time.

My firstborn son was born in August. By January, I was separated from my husband and the need to become a self-supporting parent of one was my guiding light. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Thankfully we had my parent's home and support to weather the storm. I not only found one job, but two. In short order, due to a subsidized mortgage offering, I was able to qualify to purchase a townhouse for us to move into.

1978 My First Time Reborn - Baby. Divorce. Start a job. Buy a house.

My second son was born in September. By December, I left my on-again-off-again marriage for the third and final time. Dad died three days later. His funeral was back "home"- where our family originated and my first home. One off hand comment to the effect of "You should move back 'home'..." was all I needed to set the wheels in motion. That is exactly what we did.

1987 My Second Rebirth - Baby. Divorce. Find a new job. Move to a new province. Create new life.

My third and final child was born in June. By December, I had applied for a year's leave of absence from my employer to test the waters to see if I could open a daycare from my home. I did exactly that and I've never looked back.

1998 My Third Time Reborn - Baby. Leave job. Strike out on my own. Work from home. Become a full-time parent for the third and final time.

The birth of each of my children changed my life, changed me and redirected me towards a better path. My children were an average of ten years apart in age so perhaps my life was in need of a major change at each of these pivotal decades.

It often feels easiest to just keep doing what we are doing and not shake up our world too much, too often. Once every ten years or so worked for me. In fact, as I wrote those words I quietly wondered if I reinvented myself ten years after my youngest child was born. And I did.

My youngest son's father and I broke up late spring. The life I had imagined myself living evaporated into thin air. I was lost. I spent the summer painting and maintaining our home. When winter set in, I started down the road to collecting family memories and binding them together in the form of a book. The following spring, the first book of a series of two was almost complete.

2008 An Unexpected Rebirth - Separation. Ambition. Motivation. Finding myself and my place within our extended family. The birth of two books of Family Memories.

The last decade's transition was less about birth and more focused on loss. Mom's last year was life changing. In September, the wheels were set in motion to create a life where I could be exactly where I wanted to be. Mom's health situation was diagnosed in February. She focused on her continued independence and did not want us to worry. To be able to go out to Mom's on a whim, in good times and in bad was exactly where I wanted and needed to be. She died in September. It was my final year of being a daughter. It is a year I will never regret.

2017 Focus on Being a Daughter - A diagnosis. Moving through. Being there. Loss. Moving on.

I'm in between major decade transitions at the moment. I sense another transition is in the air. I am reminding myself to focus on the moment. Moving through the challenges. Being there. In the midst of the seriousness, our home is going through its own transitions and re-inventing its purpose which is a delightful diversion to all that is going on in the world around us.

Focus on the moment. Be grateful for what "is". Be there. Be motivated. Keep reinventing yourself as the world moves on. One forward step in front of another.

It is truly no wonder they call the birthing process "labor". It is a labor of love but well worth the effort.

Creating a Work Space

I woke up bright and early this morning with pep in my step and a peaceful easy feeling in my heart. I have the privilege of working from home, setting my own pace, getting the work done within the parameters required but doing it in a space that is my own. My office. I love it.

I didn't take those thoughts and immediately step into my work day. Instead, I sat and had coffee with them. I read the archives of my blog and found the recurrent theme I have been writing about ever since I started writing here. Home is where my heart is. Finding a way to work from home and making our house work for me has been my guiding light ever since my youngest was born.

My ventures of working-out-of-our-home since that time have been filled with angst. Opening my daycare and learning how to set boundaries, creating a space conducive to the job at hand and feeling in control of my environment has been my recipe for contentment.

I can go back to my days as a teller at the beginning of my work-life. The year was 1988. The lesson was "your work space mirrors how you think". Create a work space you are comfortable with, have everything you need at hand, keep it organized, free of clutter and you can do your job better. 

That has been my credo since the beginning of my work life. I kept a meticulous teller wicket. I remember the angst I felt when I had to work from someone else's work space. I haven't changed a bit.

When I opened my daycare, I followed the guidelines set out for me as a teller: Create a work space you are comfortable with, have everything you need at hand, keep it organized and free of clutter and you can do your job better. 

This worked like a charm. I organized my house like I organized my teller wicket. I created a space my daycare family was comfortable in, everything I needed to do my job was close at hand, my daycare family assisted in keeping things organized as they soon learned everything had its spot and if we all worked together on it, they would know exactly where to find the toy they were looking for. It was a team effort. And it worked. 

Any time I worked out of the house after that point, I felt like a fish out of water. Working in the attic space doing the book work I had been hired to do out of my home was probably the best scenario of all. I was still in control of my work space. But I lost control of everything else. 

Now, working from home, setting up my work space and creating a place I am comfortable with, having everything I need at hand, organizing it and keeping the clutter to a minimum has reinstated a sense of calm within me. I'm home again.

When working in someone else's work space, I respected the environment they had created. "This is what works for them" was my constant thought. I wouldn't want someone coming in and changing my space. So I respected the boundaries and tried to adapt.

Adapting and making something work depletes me. I did my best. Over and over again. I was doing my best but it wasn't the best I could be. Until now. 

My office space is simply that. An office. It isn't convertible to a guest room. It is a work space with all the tools I need to make that space work for me. It feels as heavenly as a work place can feel. It is awesome.

I must step into my work day and it will be a day filled with things that must be done. The work table is filled to capacity with projects I must tend to. And there is an overflow on my desk. Priorities are in order. There is time and space to do what has to be done. There is SO much to be done. Yet I don't feel overwhelmed. 

I have created a work space I am comfortable with, I have everything I need at hand, it is organized and free of clutter. Now I can do my job better. 

Onward!

My work day awaits

Living the Good Life

I wandered into the living room and found our senior cat in residence laying down in front of the door, just taking in the view.

Bird watching, rabbit spotting, just savoring the moment. 

I looked at him and felt my heart beat in unison with his.

We are living the good life. 

We know it and appreciate it. 

Before and After

My office is coming along very nicely after a day of reshuffling the contents of our home.

I thought this worked well for me:

Before

But THIS!? This is so much better:

After

I was so proud of utilizing what we had and making it work for me:

Before

But NOW?! Perfection!! I could work all night here (and almost did):

After

Our home and the rooms within it keep "reinventing itself". Here are some of the many identities of what is currently known as "The Office":

The Daycare Days:

 Holiday Makeover During the Daycare Days:

Post Daycare; Pre-Renovation:

Post Renovation:

 Post-Post Renovation (making room for a sibling sleepover)

To the current look:

It seems I have been creating office space a lot over the course of time. 

This time, in "Mom's Room":

Makeshift Office Space in the Kitchen:

 What in the world will I do if we have guests? Heaven knows we have the beds. But now that the bedrooms have taken on new identities, our spare bedroom quarters look a little bit like this:

The cats really love this new sleeping spot:

Our spare bedroom is large enough to set up all three beds ... but is it practical?

All I can say is ... thanks to the COVID travel restrictions, I am not expecting guests any time soon. But when the day comes, you can be sure I'll find a way to make it work.

Some Assembly Required

I picked up groceries bright and early this morning and felt just a tad overwhelmed at the task set out before me. "What was I thinking? Buying all of these 'ingredients'!" I sighed and thought to myself "Some assembly is required ..."

We have been existing on easy-to-assemble, pre-made, frozen meals much of this COVID season. I patted myself on the back, marveling at how little we were spending on take-out. I could have lived like this forever but I do not live alone.

So I bought some better groceries this time around. Yes, some assembly was required but it will be well worth the effort.

Then I thought of the weekend past. It was definitely a weekend where some assembly was required.

My Middle Son had designed, constructed and delivered a custom bookshelf. But it was not yet in its final destination. Some assembly was required.

I thought the hard part had been done. And it had. But it still took many hours to ensure it would bear the burden of the weight of Mom's library of books. A few adjustments here, there and probably somewhere else. The need to move and re-glue a few pieces of trim. Paint touch ups. Caulking. A top shelf. More painting. Baseboards. It was a full day's work.

After my son finished his part, I had the fun job of filling the shelves. I should have taken a picture of all the bins of books. I just kept sighing ... there were so many books. Yes, I had the fun part. But due to my state of feeling easily overwhelmed lately the task felt daunting at first.

Some assembly was required.

Then I woke up the next morning with my thoughts firing on all cylinders. I could move these books here, those there and the other ones will fit into the completed unit.

Then ... if I could enlist some help, maybe I could empty my office to create the room for the desk and folding table we have downstairs. My Youngest Son accepted the challenge and he was my partner in recreating a renewed office space. More disassembly AND reassembly required.

I shuffled things around until they felt like it created a organized work space. Then I worked for several hours just to test the theory. It felt so incredible to work in this space. I can't believe I didn't do this before.

I have been going through the paces. Marking time. Crossing days off the calendar. Doing what has been required. Earning a pay cheque. Paying bills. Eat, sleep, work, eat some more, watch my current DVD favorite TV series, eat to stay awake, sleep. Rinse. Repeat. Daily.  Nothing was terribly wrong. But nothing was terribly right either.

Then came the weekend where "some assembly was required". Thankful for my sons who did 99% (maybe 100%) of the assembly, I am reaping the benefits.

I am wandering through our home appreciating every nook and cranny. I love the way our home feels. Mom's room has turned out exactly as I had envisioned it. My office is "my room" and it is coming together in a way I can visualize working-from-home as a viable retirement plan.

Sometimes, life does take a little assembly. As a general rule, it is well worth the effort.

Reimagining

My Christmas gift from my Middle Son has not only arrived, it has been installed and has moved into its rightful spot within our home. Mom's books have finally found their way to where I imagined them all along. In "Mom's room" ...

Before

After

It has all come together

The books moved into their shelving last night. I have spent the morning tweaking the look, the whereabouts and have brought out pictures which will complete the look.

This room has been one of several guest rooms within our home. It is the room Mom stayed in when she came out to help us move in (26 years ago). It is the room I dubbed "Mom's Room" from that day forward. It is the room she slept in whenever she came to visit (except when it was re-purposed as a daycare room for a while).

The third upstairs room has been transformed into my work-from-home space. The master bedroom has become my room once again. We officially have ONE guest room instead of three.

I have been wandering through the house this morning looking at it with fresh, new eyes. Our house has gone from "home" to "daycare" to "guest house" and presently it is its current state which utilizes every room upstairs. Finally.

I loved when our house was used for a daycare. Every square inch of our home was utilized. Inside and out. Every working day for fifteen years. When I closed my daycare and sold off all the daycare wares I remember feeling I was making room for what was headed my way ...

Little did I know I was making room for some of Mom's belongings after she died. Each and every item that entered our home had an empty spot waiting for its arrival. I had to shift things around in one room. Everything else just "fit".

I was lost for a while afterwards. It was a time when I had many guest rooms and lots of space in my life, heart and home to welcome company. When all three of our spare rooms were filled to capacity late this winter, I felt our home had found its identity. A home-away-from home for those who came to stay.

Then came COVID-19.

Self-isolating. Working-from-home. Staying home. Appreciating our surroundings.

Finally, finally the world reopened enough in and around the same time my son had enough time to devote to the task of installing the bookshelves he built this past winter. I wandered in and out of the room during the installation process. Part of me was panicking. The job of re-homing all Mom's books and belongings I have had in storage felt daunting.

Then I began.

One by one, each book found its spot. The Royal Family is altogether. A space for the Kennedy's. Another spot for biographies. True stories. Family history. Classics. School readers Mom collected (containing many verses she learned in school and could recite until her dying day). Reference materials. Some fiction. Almost everything has found its rightful spot within Mom's library (I am awaiting the final touch ups before re-homing the last of Mom's books on the top shelf).

I am looking at our home in a whole new light this morning. Mom's room looks and feels exactly the way I envisioned it. My office however? Needs a little work. The amazing part of this, is that most of what I need to turn this make-shift office into a "real" office is within our home. Some re-shuffling of what we already have will move the office reno in a forward direction.

Everything starts with a "before". The picture of the "now" is real. The vision of where you want to go is imagined. Unless you draw a picture of where you plan to go. In my case, I have framed my son's vision of the home he saw for Mom's books:

“A dream written down with a date becomes a goal. A goal broken down into steps becomes a plan. A plan backed by action makes your dreams come true.” ~  Greg Reid

I am re-imagining our home's purpose. It is a beginning. 

My Favorite Way to Start the Day

I opened the living room blinds this morning and it took a second to realize the blur I saw was not dirt on my glasses. It was a rabbit parked out in the middle of the street.

I blinked, focused and saw one ... two ... three ... FOUR rabbits down the street. One on the road and three in a dandelion filled lawn (I must let our dandelions go to seed - this seems to attract rabbits).

I simply stood still and gazed at them as they shifted their positions and settled.

Can you spot them?

Here is a blurry close-up. Yes, that tiny dot is definitely a rabbit.

Rabbit spottings in our neighborhood are not quite as frequent since spring has sprung. The combination of the increasing daylight hours and the fact that I'm not feeding them has resulted in fewer rabbits spending time in our front yard. I still catch sight of one here and there but it has been ages since I have seen them gather.

I am considering putting my name down on the wait list where my aunt resides. She faces a park like setting where rabbits come to play on a regular basis. We had the treat of spotting five at one time while the landscaping crew scared them out of their hiding spots while mowing and trimming the lawn. Spotting one rabbit is a treat. Spotting two or more is a gift.

Rabbit spotting. My favorite way to start the day!

Unrest

I am loosely paraphrasing something I read recently about dreams.

Dreams written down become goals. Formulating the steps required to attain those goals becomes a plan. Following through on those steps becomes action. Taking action on a dream which was once only a wisp of a dream turns into achieving your dreams.

I used to dream.

I used to visualize where I wanted to be. I often wrote those dreams down. I sometimes added visuals to the dream. Then came the process. Step by step. One small step at a time. Dreams became reality.

I can scour the archives of this blog and my journals to witness the process I unknowingly created time and time and time again.

Unrest instigated the need for change.

Change is a process that required a set of goals.

Goals necessitated action and effort.

Effort was the catalyst of all that followed.

Achieving goals was the reward for all of the above.

The goals were achieved one step at a time. Yes, it was nice to reach the top of that mountain and enjoy the view. In retrospect, I realize I wouldn't have enjoyed the view a fraction of the amount if I hadn't personally overcome all it took to reach the summit.

Unrest. Change. Goals. Effort. Achievement.

Embrace the unrest. It is the catalyst which has the power to take you where you need to go.

Bed Hog and Cat Litter

You know all is well enough in the world when the biggest worry you have is finding a new brand of cat litter.

Yes, I woke up with cats on my mind this morning. Is it any wonder, when I roll over to discover Jet has taken ownership of one quarter of the real estate in my bed?

Back in the day when Jet didn't monopolize the bed, Ray found room for himself on the opposite corner of the bed. Look at the tiny little corner he squeezes into:

It has become the norm to make my bed around Jet and carry on with the day. So far, Jet hasn't taken ownership of the task of making up his side of the bed.

Yes, life is tough when one's biggest dilemma is trying to find a replacement for something that always worked well in the past. I hate change. But the world continues to insist I learn to adapt to the harsh realities of life. 

Until there are no more cats who reside under our roof, there will be cat litter. Life goes on. Of all the worries in the world there are to wake up to, this is a pretty good one. 

I am grateful for the bed-hogging, hair-shedding, cat-litter users who reside in our home. Life wouldn't be the same without them.

Eyebrows and Gratitude

I managed to do a few things right last fall. Number one - I started saving the "vacation pay" portion from my pay cheque each month. Number 2 - I didn't follow through with my application to get a passport.

Add a global pandemic to the above and you can see I have (what I consider to be) one of the best problems around. No place to go and a little bit of money in the bank.

As I looked into the longer range forecast of the months that lie ahead, I have wondered when we may travel freely between provinces. Leaving the country? Not even something I would consider any time soon, when that barrier is lifted. 

I am so grateful the unaffordable-at-the-time passport fee plus an unbecoming passport photo (I learned to draw in some eyebrows just in time for my driver's license photo renewal) stood in the way of getting a passport. Yes, I wasted money on a passport photo I'll never utilize BUT my driver's license photo actually looks better than the one from five years prior. It was a lesson that cost $31.97 but it gave me a gift that will last five years. Eyebrows matter.

Last year my spending exceeded my income. I am just starting to regain the ground I lost due to house maintenance, some in-country mini vacations and life in general. I am standing on solid ground and there is little temptation in sight. 

No invitations, no spur of the moment "let's do this or go there" ideas and no upcoming vacation plans. My budget is so relieved.

No vacation plans = no vacation time booked. What does that look like in the year forecast? Maybe, just maybe I can plan to book an extra day around a long weekend? Maybe I could book three day weekends for the summer? 

The country will open up in some fashion eventually. When it does, I will have last year's debt paid in full, a little money in the bank and holiday time available. In the meantime, I can sit still and appreciate all the outdoor maintenance accomplished last year and just take in the view. Everything I need is right in our own back yard. 

In light of the seriousness of the events going on in the world around us, I know this entire post is trivial and inane. But that is what makes it more important than it seems. When life feels like it is spiraling out of control, that is when I look toward the smaller picture. Gratitude for what I have. Gratitude that losing one opportunity may open the door to something new and unexpected. And gratitude for a driver's license photo where I am sporting eyebrows.

It's the little stuff that makes the biggest of difference at times. 

New Month, New Rules

I woke up this morning to another day. Another week. Another month. And ... I did not appreciate it for the gift that it was.

I am loving isolation, social distancing and staying home. Loving it. But it is not loving me back.

I have become a shell of a human being. I wake up. I go through the motions. I reward myself with reruns of my favorite TV-series-of-the-moment and snacks. I sleep. Rinse and repeat. Day after day. Weekends are less of the above.

My socialization skills are deteriorating. My keeping-in-touch gene has been deactivated. I have nothing new to talk about, think about, write about so I have less desire to talk/think/write.

Things are not spiraling in a positive direction.

So when I finally peeled myself out of bed this morning, I made a cup of coffee and retreated to my "morning pages".

I basically wrote "What am I going to do different? This week? Today? This morning? This hour? Now?" I should have written these questions sooner because there is a subconscious connection between my fingertips and my heart of hearts. I know my answers. But if I don't write, I don't tend to hear them.

This is what my heart and soul told my brain and eyes:

I have an outline. It is easy to follow. And the best part? I've already crossed two things off my to-do-list for today.

How are you doing? I know the world is opening up a little bit but I'm still fearful to step outside the comfort zone of my little isolated world. How about you?

"We can do hard things" is Glennon Doyle's mantra. Yep. The hard things I can do. It is the easy stuff that trips me up every time.

Here I go again. Rinse and repeat. I've been here before. The evidence is within this blog space. I've searched my own blog enough times to hear the echo of the past in today.