Throwback Thursday

My only thoughts this morning are "there goes another month".

I wistfully wondered where we will be standing a year from now. Who would have predicted our current state of being?

I have since been scrolling through my blog posts from Septembers in the past. This is the one that spoke to me the loudest. 

A little throwback Thursday post from one year ago with no glimmer of what the next year had in store:

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2019

Look How Far You've Come

While scrolling through the internet this morning, I found a few words that spoke to me:

Credit to: Goalcast

I thought I would reflect on the year and went to check my blog history. September, 2018? Nothing. Not a post.

I then went to look up my 2018 calendar to fill in the blanks. I couldn't find it. I searched through my income tax papers where I always keep my calendar. Not a thing.

Okay, memory. Kick in. What were you doing a year ago?

I remembered September started by a trip with my brother to see my uncle in Guelph. I remember going to my sister's the weekend after that.

I remember feeling a lightness of heart starting to take hold but without the crutches of my blog or a calendar to look back on my memories faded to black. It was a scary feeling.

I scrambled to scroll back on some old texts to find a frame of reference. I found a text where I was headed out to Lloydminster with my son. After reading a few of the messages before and after this trip I was grounded with the knowledge that I remembered what was written in between the texts.

Once my feet were back on the ground and I was thinking clearly, I found my old calendar. Right where I expected it to be.

I flipped back to September, 2018. One year plus six days ago, I received the Final Clearance Letter for Mom's estate. A sibling trip was planned and we officially wound up everything pertaining to Mom's estate shortly thereafter.

We are planning another sibling trip this upcoming weekend. I will be headed off to see my uncle soon. Other events are mirroring those of one year ago.

Two years ago, the loss of Mom was fresh and I felt broken. A year ago, I was picking up the pieces and healing. This year seems to be a renewed version of the year past.

Life has moved on. There is a lot of the same old, same old. Just the way I like it. It feels like the good old days seasoned with the present.

How far have I come? I have a home renovation to celebrate. I am fortunate enough to still be employed. We are all in good spirits and our family relationships are healthy. I'm standing in a very similar place to where I was a year ago but the landscape has changed a little. I am grateful. So very grateful to be back where I have been but feeling better about it.

How about you? What has the last year brought into your life? I hope there have been rainbows after the rain, strength when you need it, courage to keep putting one foot in front of another and the company of those you enjoy to walk through your days.

Back to the present again ...

P.S. I am missing our annual sibling trip terribly. COVID-19, you can leave any time. We have learned quite enough from your presence

The Wonderful World of Libraries

It is ironic, since I have Mom's library of books showcased and begging to be read, that this year I have rediscovered the wonderful world within our local library.

I have a very hard time holding onto a thought long enough to read and stay awake at the same time. So I have indulged myself in reading whatever has grabbed my attention in order to try to re-instill the habit of reading. 

Even amid the COVID world, I was able to place holds on books that caught my attention, reserve a time to pick them up, then check them out without breaking the 6 foot social distancing barrier. 

The library offers a vast variety of books, old and new. The ability to read for pleasure, to pursue an interest or to educate yourself on whatever piques your interest is available to all. Absolutely free of charge.

Whenever I check out a book, my library receipt tells me how much I've saved by utilizing the library. I find positive reinforcement at every turn.

I have been watching my pennies very carefully this month. Yet I was still able to treat myself to reading Alex Trebek's new book "The Answer Is", thanks to my friendly neighborhood library.

The library is only one of many offerings that is out there available at no cost. 

• Sitting on your doorstep and breathing in fresh air, sunshine and nature
• A walk to anywhere
• Catching up with a friend
• Writing (I would add letter writing but there is the small cost of a stamp which is still the best value for your dollar in my opinion)
• Sitting still with yourself and allowing yourself to dream
• Going through photo albums, cards, letters or memorabilia you have collected
• Housecleaning (hey, it's free and actually quite satisfying once you get past the hard part of starting)

Look around you. See what you can come up with. Some of the best things in life are free.

Sunday Hangover

I just lived a Sunday of ease. Relaxation, low energy, mindless activities ruled the day. I watched TV, played Word Wipe on the computer and read a book. 

The trouble with reading, is I kept falling asleep. This, I might add, was after going to bed at 7:45 p.m. on Saturday and getting out of bed around 7:30 Sunday morning. Yet every time I sat still with my book, I started nodding off. So I ate to stay awake.

I want to say I ate my weight in food yesterday but that would be an exaggeration. I ate a toasted tuna sandwich; a bag of popcorn; a few mini chocolate bars; I'm certain I nibbled on something else; then made a four course meal for supper (with one more mini Kit Kat bar for dessert). 

I still feel full this morning. Eating without moving will do that to a person.

I considered going outside. But I didn't.

I tried to entertain the idea of accepting an invitation. But I couldn't.

I wanted to push myself to do "one hard thing". So I cooked supper. 

I read a book. And it was good enough. In fact it was more than good. I closed the book and my heart felt full.

Another week is on the horizon. Last week felt hard. I am heading into the new week well rested, well nourished and ready to take the next forward step.

Maybe my "Sunday hangover" is a good thing.

Happy Monday to you. I hope your weekend provided you with what you most needed to take your next step forward.

The Answer Is

I read Alex Trebek's book "The Answer Is". It's an easy read. It touches on so many aspects of his life-so-far. I put it down and told my son, "He's a real stand up guy." 

I related his struggles with those Mom never vocalized and wondered what Mom would have said of his book, his story and where he is today. Somehow, I sense my sentiments are an echo of Mom's voice. She appreciated people of good character. 

I love how Alex wrote of his upbringing, his parents, the in-between years of graduation and the steps along the way to lead him to where he is today. I admire his honesty, his humbleness, his humanitarian spirit and his humanness. I appreciate the stories of contestants he brought into focus and how he models the appreciation he has for the work he does. 

If you are interested and have the opportunity, I highly recommend reading his book. He is donating all profits from his book to charity.

"The Answer Is" the answer to the question "What book I would most like to listen to the audio version?" Not only is Alex Trebek a real stand up guy, he has a voice I could listen to all day.

Social Media Timeout

One week ago, I watched The Social Dilemma on Netflix. I hit my saturation point at the 76 minute mark of the 94 minute documentary. It was too much information and hit far too close to home.

I recognized myself and the mindless hours I fritter away on Facebook. Checking in on the activity of "friends", stopping to watch videos of cats, wildlife, heroic rescues, home organizing tips and the list not only goes on and on, it seems to be growing by the day. 

What I have been watching seems to show up more frequently. What I didn't realize is that different news appears on different people's feeds, depending upon what they "like", comment on, click on or even stop and watch without clicking on anything.

The adage that is quoted at the beginning of The Social Dilemma is that if you are not paying for the product, you ARE the product. If we are getting something for free, beware. What we watch is adapted to what we spend our time viewing. "News" we read is slanted towards our bias. It wasn't a surprise that the ads I see are based on what I am searching on my computer but a lot of the other information was bothersome.

There is an addictive quality to social media. Again, I recognized my own curiosity on who may like or comment on something I may post or comment on. I knew I was scrolling social websites out of habit but I really didn't care. Until I watched this documentary.

I have checked Facebook once this past week. I felt empty and used as I scrolled through the page reading the updates since I last checked in. I have had no desire to check in again. Yet.

I was aware of the drawbacks of social media but I countered the fact with the number of old friends I was able to re-connect with, thanks to Facebook. There was definitely a dopamine surge each and every time I connected with and started corresponding with a friend from long ago. The connections I made were definitely a huge draw but the hours I have spent mindlessly scrolling are completely lost to me. 

I often wonder how I used to accomplish more, feel more creative and inspired. Inviting the internet into our home has gradually eaten up more and more and more of my time. Social media has just been the icing on the cake.

Pre-COVID, I instilled "Technology Free Sundays" into my life. It felt good not to be beholden to an internet or cell phone connection. I was starting to feel liberated. Then came COVID. I lost my desire to disconnect because I craved connection at any cost.

Here it is, Sunday morning. Here I am, spending more time on the computer. 

There went another morning down the rabbit hole of internet searches ... I am aware but I do not seem to be learning. There should be a 10 step program for this. 

"Hello. My name is Colleen. And I am an internet-aholic."

On Being Senior

They don't even ask any more ...

"Only her hairdresser knows for sure"

I should not be surprised. 

I Keep Waiting For This Announcement:

Ever since the reality of a global pandemic infiltrated my safe little world, there has been a surreal sensation of "this feels like an experiment of human nature".

• How do humans react when faced with scarcity?
• How do humans respond to isolation? fear? the unknown?
• How does a global condition unite and divide humankind?
• How does an unknown timeline affect this condition?
• How will world leaders react?
• With global uncertainty at the core of all news, how will people manage the layers of other world events on top of this uncertainty?
• When all of the above becomes "the norm", how will humans manage on a day-to-day basis?
• Will the human condition change after the crisis is over?

As I tentatively move from one day to the next and seven months later, we are still navigating the unknown on a day to day basis, I keep waiting for this announcement:

Emergency Broadcast System Test (1983)

"This concludes the test of the Emergency Broadcast System" 

Wouldn't it be nice?

On Feeling Deeply

This week has been a week of "feeling deeply".

I woke up one morning feeling personally responsible for pretty much anything and everything. I wanted to walk around with a sign around my neck saying "I'm sorry". It was just that kind of day. 

I have those days now and again. I attribute it to the moon. Phases. Cycles. Patterns. Days of feeling deeply are part of my make up. I recognize this and do my best to wade through the middle of those particular times and utilize the feelings to take action when circumstances allow.

As a rule, I can categorize and sort my feelings, put them in a room, shut the door and not feel the feelings so deeply until I open the door again. This week feels like the doors are all open and I'm walking through the hallway, feeling a low grade kind of angst. 

This too shall pass. I know this is true. I've walked this walk enough times to recognize the pattern.

These are trying times for most of us. Try to recognize what is familiar within your own personal cycles of life. If you can, try to recall what worked in pulling you up and out of where you have been to get to a better place. 

If all else fails, take heed of the lessons I learned in my Grade 3 Health class:

I especially like #4 - "Play out of doors every day". I know that has been lacking in my life. 

What one thing can you do to pull yourself out of your deep thoughts and back into the present?

Fall

As of 7:30 this morning, fall has made its official arrival. 

Our hours of daylight are fewer than our night time hours. 

The up side of this, is the colors of the season. 

If ever I was in charge of designing a city, 

I would choose the trees based on the colors they turn in the fall. 

This tree in our neighborhood would definitely make the cut:

The past two falls, I have made trips "out east" and marveled at the beauty of their fall landscape. 

Their weather isn't as harsh as ours so their trees hold onto their fall colors longer. 

The view takes your breath away.

I am longing to head out east this fall. 

So many reasons. 

The colors of the season being one of them.

There is beauty within all of our seasons. 

Don't let the shortening days supersede the colors while they last.

Happy fall to you! 

Paper

I hit a wall this weekend. My cull, sort and destroy project was temporarily side tracked as I took time off to enjoy a Grey's Anatomy Marathon Weekend.

I was halfway into my second day of losing myself to television drama when I told myself I had to do at least ONE thing. So I did.

What started out as digging out the second cool file folder storage box resulted in vacuuming the basement and deciding what documents I could shred.

The end result was this:

Two empty (plus a third one full of documents to shred) file folder sized boxes

and numerous emptied document organizers/folders ...

... plus one gigantic box of shredding (and more where that came from).

I have a paper shredder which is perfect for my personal needs but if I overwork it, I'll be in need of a new shredder. So I may be shredding documents for the duration of the year. 

I have not yet hit the bottom of this bottomless pit of paper collection. I have dabbled in photographs, memorabilia, cards and all kinds of paraphernalia. And I am no where near complete. 

This is the state of our living room at the moment:

One would think this would get easier as I go along. But I keep finding excuses to hold on to some of what I have.

I wondered how much I earned at my very first job. I knew Dad would have deducted it off what he could claim for me as a dependent that year, so I went to Dad's tax papers and found my answer. I earned $1875 my first year of employment back in 1977. I know I could find many more answers I may wonder over the years in Mom's calendars.

Do I really need to know I can get my hands on this information? There is comfort in knowing I have a piece of history only Mom and Dad would have the answers for. This feels like a warm hug on a cold day.

I suspect as I work my way through the excess, I may become less attached to the paper. I spent one entire weekend shredding Mom's papers after she died. I did it once. I can do it again.

I cannot believe it has come to this. This mountain of paper, photographs and memories is overwhelming. 

One step at a time, one weekend at a time for as long as it takes to rid our living room of Rubbermaid storage containers. Where there is a will, there is a way. The "way" may include hiring a company to do my personal shredding. 

I'm a collector of family history, stories and memories. This is so very hard because there is a small piece of history hidden within all that has accumulated. I must believe I've mined for the gold and be willing to let the rest go.

It is no wonder I have put this off for so long. 

Sunday Morning

Watching "Furrever Friends" on TV with my very own furrever friend at my side.

Sunday morning bliss.

 

Use What Life Hands You

When life hands you a box, hop in and try it out for size.

It may be a little small, it may not feel quite right but don't be afraid to check it out.

Some of the best things in life are sitting right in front of us. 

Use whatever life hands you.

You never know - what you are looking for may be closer than you think.

Pushing Boundaries

Ray, our senior cat in residence has an innate respect for Jet, his co-cat of the house.

Jet has some spots he seems to have claimed as his own and Ray respects those boundaries and doesn't cross the line.

Ray has been acting a little more "forward" than usual lately. He has been very affectionate in a very in-your-face kind of way. As a rule, he is pretty laid back and follows the laws of the land.

Then he decided to hop up on Jet's spot and try it out:

He didn't appear completely at ease in his cat-partner-in-crime's spot, but he tried.

What have you been missing out in life because you are afraid to try? 

Start small. Sit in someone else's chair. Look at things from a slightly different point of view. 

You may opt not to claim the spot as your own but you now have a slightly different perspective. Simply by putting yourself in another's shoes (or chair), 

you may see something you hadn't noticed before.

Or if you are like me, you may simply find yourself more grateful for your own special spots in the sun.

Push the boundaries just a little bit and check out the fit. You may be surprised.

 

Small Wonders

I have not had my fill of rabbit-spotting the past several months. I had almost given up hope and wondered if they had moved out of our neighborhood or succumbed to a tragic demise due to some carnivorous animal's appetite. 

I have since had a few brief spottings and my faith has been restored. The rabbits are still in the area but without a snow covered yard, the evidence of their presence is very discreet.

I haven't seen too many rabbits at my aunt's lately either. Her location is a rabbit's haven (lots of bush, grass, flowers, along with quiet, slow moving people). 

I was craving a little bit of rabbit wonder in my day when I had two spottings. One brief sighting of a rabbit hopping down our street first thing in the morning, followed by a pair of rabbits at my aunt's who settled in for an extended after supper snack of grass and basking in the moment: 

Though they were well aware of my presence, they didn't move from their spots when I headed to my car and they gave me the gift of this photo.

I opened the blinds this morning to spot two rabbits hopping down our street. 

A very good way to start the day.

Rabbit sightings fill the void I sometimes feel within. 

Nature does that for me every time. 

I think it is time to add "rabbit food" to my list. 

I could use a little daily dose of wonder.

What brings wonder to your days? 

How can you attract that which brings you joy?

There is no one size fits all prescription but keep looking for the small wonders of the world. 

They may be closer than you think.

Throwback Thursday

Going through old cards and memories, I found these treasures:

Anyone who knew me, knew how much I loved ballroom dancing.

I miss the good ol' days when every thought in my head vanished 

the moment I walked onto the dance floor.

I was fortunate enough to find a passion where I could lose myself. 

Have you ever had such a passion? 

If so, do you still hold onto it? 

Question of the hour: 

Where does that passion go? 

How can we rekindle it? 

Personally, I may dig a little deeper into my photographs, memories and videos to rekindle the joy.

Oh, to feel joyful, hopeful and passionate again.

Digging Deep

The timing was impeccable. As I sorted through memory boxes and that which I have collected over the years, it was already on my radar. I was missing a box. 

Who would have guessed my son would ask me questions that would lead me to search for that specific box one day later? "I need to interview you for my class - I will need to know details about my birth, learning to walk ..." and my hearing faded to black as I realized how few details I can recall. Everything I need to know is in this house somewhere.

Me: [walking to my bedroom closet and looking at a shelf where the missing box used to reside, as if this would give me a clue as to its current location] This is where it used to be...

Son: We don't need to do this tonight

Me: I know I wouldn't throw it away. I know it. 

Son: Let's not worry about this now

Me: What did I do with it?!?

I wandered downstairs and dug through collection of tax papers - mine, Mom's & Dad's. Each box was clearly defined as "tax stuff". I pulled out one box after another and was just starting to lose hope when I spotted something that didn't look like income tax [I love those see through storage containers]. There it was!

As excited as I was to find the missing box, I was even more elated to discover "this" was the box I would like to use, to organize my cards. Ooooo!! I can't wait to get back, dig into this, dig deeper into this whole decluttering project and find efficient "forever homes" for that which I have kept.

My heart sank at the knowledge that I must deal with three lifetimes worth of paperwork as well. But on the flip side, shredding these documents will give me a whole heap of storage containers which will serve a much better purpose than holding onto that which was obsolete decades ago.

I unearthed the "Baby's First Year" calendar I knew would hold the answers my son will be asking when we make the time for this interview. The questions go deeper than my memory so I need a little help. This also reaffirms my defense that there IS a reason we hold onto this stuff.

What else will I discover as I continue to mine for gold within this house of ours? Time will tell.

P.S. I found an unexpected bonus while digging through the boxes - four long lost cat toys!! There was something in this for everyone.

Echos of Conversations from Yesteryear

Whenever Mom came for a visit, we always lingered over our morning toast and coffee. It was a ritual that was as predictable as the sun coming up in the morning.

On more than one occasion, after I had left the kitchen and returned again, Mom asked, "Guess what I did while you were gone?" She had an expression that dared me to guess correctly so I played the game.

I wasn't able to come up with the answer so she would give me a clue: "You can't see it". As I said, I'm pretty certain we had this conversation before. Even at that, I didn't come up with the correct answer.

She would straighten up in her chair (even more, because her back was always straight and her posture was excellent) and wore the expression of a cat who just ate a canary and reply, "I emptied the crumb tray in your toaster". That tray was always full because Mom may have been the only person who emptied it.

Now? Whenever I empty the toaster's crumb tray, I hear Mom's voice: "Guess what I did while you were gone?"

And in a moment, Mom is right beside me, smiling over my shoulder again.

I love those little memories. They find me when I least expect them.

Hidden Treasures

This is a card I received almost 23 years ago, 

long before my current love-of-spotting-rabbits phase of life:

My Secret Friend at work surprised me with this one day before a weekend, 

my love of "special treats" has not changed.

Somebunny cares!

 

Taming the Beast

After a weekend of sorting, culling and organizing papers, cards, family history and memorabilia, this is the not-as-messy-middle ground I must live with until next time:

I found things I didn't even know I had: 

• souveniers from P.E.I., that could have only come from Mom after her trip out there in 1984
• a scribbler Mom had saved from my "playing school" days, where I made up a day plan, wrote out assignments for my imaginary class, did the assignment myself, then marked it myself, back in the teacher role
• Christmas, birthday and "just because" cards from Mom with little more than her name signed, but the knowledge she had spent time to find just the right card - I have sorted them according to category and plan to pull out a random card to fit the occasion and feel Mom's presence when I miss her
• a forwarded email from my brother, to my sister (who had asked him for their punch recipe):

1. Curl fingers toward fist
2. Be careful not to tuck thumb inside fist. Broken thumbs may occur
3. Now raise fist up
4. Look directly at target
5. For increased power and velocity, twist hip and shoulder toward target as you deliver punch
6. For added joy and effectiveness, follow this punch with another from the opposite hand
7. This is known as the old one-two

Hope this has been helpful.

And I found more. So much more. Buried treasure was found within the massive heap of years worth of collecting that which felt special at the time. 

A new week is upon me and I had to sort myself out of the messy middle and tame the beast until next time. Funny thing is, I am actually looking forward to the next time.

Taking one hard step in a direction you want to go isn't easy, but it is almost always worth the effort. 

Whoops! I Did it Again!

Another day, another Rubbermaid container to sort through.

Four down, I have no idea how many more to go.

There IS a reason I procrastinated three years. This task is not for the weak of heart.

Snazzy Sunday (aka: it is time to do laundry)

I am still savoring the chilly fall mornings and happily reach for my socks each morning.

Is it just me, or does everyone like their socks to match their pj's?

It hurt me to look at this combination this morning but all my other socks are dirty.

I wore this outfit ALL day. I love quiet Sundays at home without a dress code.

The Messy Middle

Sorting, organizing, culling and reminiscing.

This is "Saturday" in a nutshell.

 

Fall - A Time to Shed

 The isolation I long for is the very same isolation that many are battling.

"Be careful what you wish for"

It is my goal to create a home that embraces me with warmth, comfort and joy

so when the day comes that I am the one who is battling the discomfort of being alone, 

I will not feel isolated.

As our daylight hours are shrinking and our mornings and evenings are cooler,

I am comforted in the warmth of fuzzy socks, long pants, favorite sweaters

and the pending season of cocooning myself within our home is a welcome thought.

The idea of winter does not scare me.

But all I have to do is look around

and I feel a darkness among those who are feeling the effects of a spring and summer of isolation.

I fear what winter will bring into their world.

I don't know how to make it better for others.

I feel helpless as I endeavor to alleviate the hopelessness that is growing by the day.

I think of the world I am trying to create within my own home and wonder if that is the key.

To surround yourself with that which brings you joy, 

instead of feeling weighed down by meaningless belongings could provide relief.

A fall project of reorganizing that which we already have,

dusting off evidence of happy memories hidden away in storage

and bringing "joy" into focus instead of clutter. 

Perhaps the changing seasons are a clue as to what we need the most.

The leaves shed their leaves in the fall in order to endure the winter season.

Fall ... 

a time to shed the excess to create space for joy to get us through the winter ahead.

Why?

 As I take the first tentative steps into dealing with photographs, memories, keepsakes and other paraphernalia around our home there is one word that comes to mind. "Why?"

What do I have and hold onto that has any value to anyone but me? Is this really worth the effort? Or should I simply dump and shred the vast majority of that-which-has-accumulated throughout the years?

Then I heard Mom's voice quietly penetrate my subconscious thoughts. I believe I was wishing for a quieter, less committed life. "Be careful what you wish for" whispered through my mind. I think it was Mom's voice.

Mom lived without Dad for thirty seven and a half years. My brother was in grade 12 at the time Dad was hospitalized and continued to live with Mom another five to six years (I could tell you exactly, because I kept the first letter he wrote me from his new apartment and I know exactly where to find it). There were various "borders" who came and went throughout the years, but for the most part, Mom was on her own the vast majority of the time.

I think Mom and I are wired similarly. We navigate life solo well. Home is important to us. Family grounds us. We do best when we have a game plan for the day ahead.

I remember one of my very first thoughts when my first son was born. I was 17 years old at the time. Please forgive me. I think my thoughts were a little bit like this: "A boy ..." "Eighteen more years 'til he grows up" (not necessarily in that order).

Then, I kept on having a baby about every ten years. Now, at age (almost) 60, I am still parenting my youngest son who is attending University. I may be 65 before I'm on my own within this house of mine. I have never lived a day of my adult life without a dependent under my roof. But the day will come. Then what will I have?

I imagine myself wandering through my home, appreciating that which I held onto. My brother's first letter of independence. Photographs and albums that encompass Mom and Dad's family history, up until I stopped developing pictures that are stored on my computer or a USB drive. I can picture myself sitting still with Mom's library and going through her books one by one by one. I hope my curiosity for life starts to mirror hers as the demands of life start to diminish.

I see myself combing through the memories I have collected along the way and knowing when to let go and what is worthy of holding onto. I have three sons who are NOT collectors of memorabilia. What I have, will need to find homes elsewhere. It may become a project to re-home some of what matters to me before the day my children have to decide.

I foresee a long life ahead. I will need to re-invent myself and become someone who has something to talk about when in the company of others. I need to keep the air around me fresh, new and alive.

Who will I become when I reach the stage when I am living on my own? I know one cannot hold onto the past but I also know the value of feeling the roots of belonging. 

The need to cull and purge is ongoing. Some of what held value to me at the onset of my day, I was ready to purge by the day's end. Why would I hold onto this? What value does it hold? To me? To anyone else?

As I empty one set of shelves, to fill it with the photographs and memories I have deemed worthy of keeping, I must continue to ask myself "Why? Why is this important? Is it worthy of the space it takes to hold this? If I was not here, would this be of value to anyone else?"

I should "Marie Kondo" this scenario, pull out all my memorabilia and stack it all in one room to recognize the vastness of the task at hand. 

Two Rubbermaid containers at a time is enough for today. I need another extended long weekend before I take on the world. When I accept the challenge, I must ask myself two questions: 

• Does this bring me joy?
• Why am I holding onto this?

Holding onto the memories of the past without letting it weigh you down is a continual process. While there is a time to hold onto and cherish the past, part of the process is knowing when to let it go. 

I have held onto things that held value to Mom. Because they were important to her, it wasn't easy to discard her personal mementos. The question is now: "Does this matter to me?" 

The process continues...

Before and After

I spent the entirety of yesterday sorting through pictures, removing photos from frames and filing them where they belong and organizing albums. I kid you not, when I say "all day".

Here is the "before":

This is the "after":

Obviously, I have not yet completed the task. I have one more Rubbermaid container the exact same size downstairs which holds all our existing photo albums. The last part of this job entails intersorting the small stack of pictures left over into the appropriate album, label the albums, then find a "forever home" for all.

How I wish I had another four-day weekend at my disposal to complete the job. Just wait a minute! If I hadn't worked two out of the four days, a two-day weekend should have been sufficient.

My weeks exhaust me. It is time to work on a way to make my life work more efficiently. 

I am eyeing up a few more extended long weekends on the horizon. That could do the trick ...

Four Days

I woke up to my fourth and final day of solitary confinement at home. I was up before the sun this morning, so I didn't lose a minute of my last day at home.

Four days. Here are the stats:

• Two days of work, totalling 12 working hours
• One home cooked meal (okay, I turned on the BBQ, charred three hamburgers and four hot dogs which meant I didn't have to share this food fest and my BBQ'd meal lasted all weekend)
• Two outbound text messages
• One, three hour long phone visit with a friend
• One entire day on the couch, watching TV
• One hour long walk (the only time I have stepped off the property)
• One work-related drop by delivery
• One pizza delivery 

Friday was my son's first day back at University. I was home. Alone. The phone rang once. I didn't have to leave the house. It was an absolutely awesome day.

Saturday was a highly verbal day. My telephone conversation with a friend was the next best thing to "being there". We shared laughter, tears and easy conversation that goes hand in hand by knowing someone who has been there through every bump and turn of "life", the past forty four years. This was followed with a highly interactive day of working from home. Lots of phone calls, conferring and putting our heads together.

Sunday, I felt absolutely wordless. I walked with a friend near the day's end but I listened more than I spoke and did not have it in me to prolong the walk with a cup of coffee at the end. I returned from my walk at the same time I normally return home during my work week. I came home, climbed into my pajamas and called it a night.

Which leads me to Monday. Today. A day I plan to spend immersed in photographs and memories. One box is mine; the other box came from Mom's.

It's been three years without Mom. Three years and I still have not unpacked all the mementos I brought home with me. It just dawned on me this morning that perhaps the reason these boxes never got unpacked is due to my duties as an executor. I was buried in numbers instead of memories. It is time. I am ready, revitalized and raring to go.

These four days at home have been just what I needed, when I needed it the most. 

Feeling Awesome

The feeling of "Ahhh ..." is coursing through my veins this morning. 

It is Friday. I don't have to leave the house today, tomorrow or even the next few days. All "must-do" errands have been run. I am home.

My son is starting back to school. While the new school year still holds its fair share of nerves and apprehensions, his world has become far too small the past six months. Routine, structure, learning and socialization will be a very good thing. I feel a sense of my "ahh-ness" extended towards my son.

My apprehension about leaving the province has been sanctioned by the powers that be. It is recommended to stay within the province unless absolutely necessary. So I have no guilt over remaining home this last long weekend of the summer. 

I spent almost half of my monthly income yesterday so my budget strings are tied tight. The challenge is to live within my means for the remainder of this month so I can breathe a little easier next month.

COVID restrictions, budget restrictions, a return of some semblance of normal for my youngest son and simply knowing though I have the option of leaving home, there are no obligations outside of our property line this long weekend equal a state of contentment within.

The feeling of "ahhh" is pretty "ahhhsome".

Happy long weekend to all. May a little bit of awesome find its way into your world.

One Day ... But Not Today

There will come a day when replacing my car is smarter than repairing it. Thankfully it is not today.

My car simply didn't start when I turned the ignition five days prior to the day it died. When it happened initially, I gave it a few more tries, panicked slightly as I wondered if that was my last "start", but when it started easily the next time (and the next nine start-ups) I began to wonder if I had imagined the one time it didn't start.

Long story short, it wasn't my imagination. My car died last night.

As I sat and waited for the tow truck to arrive, I mentally tallied how much I have saved and how much more I have to go before I can shop for my next car. I berated myself for believing I was in a relatively good financial position after paying down last years bills to zero. I started to believe I had jinxed my luck.

Then the tow truck driver arrived and had a few tricks up his sleeve.

When the car didn't start by boosting the battery and a little more troubleshooting, he said he had one more thing to try before he gave up. He slid under the car, tapped the starter, told me when to start the ignition and the car came back to life.

He suggested I keep the car running until I arrived at my final destination because the starter struggled a little before it started. So my car spent the night at my friendly neighborhood mechanic's parking lot and a new starter has been ordered. I should be up and running by later this afternoon.

A new starter verses a new-to-me car? The starter wins. I can coast for a little while longer.

Of all the times and places for my car to abandon me, I could not be more grateful to be stranded in the grocery pick-up parking stall, fifteen minutes from home. I quickly assessed my situation. My grocery supply had just been replenished, a long weekend (with an extra day added to it) was on the horizon and I had no where to go. I was dreaming of five days of being stranded at home and I was not disappointed.

Granted, shopping for a different car would have added a dimension to the isolation which would not be ideal. But hey, I was still grateful I hadn't been stranded an hour and a half out of the city, in a spot with no cell service (I know this, because I tried to make a phone call), with my aunt on the day my car first died.

Do I feel like I have a battalion of guardian angels watching over me? You bet I do. Of all the times and places for the car to quit, this was one of the best options. I was on my way home so I had fulfilled my obligations for the day (and just one day shy of getting through the week). The car died on a Wednesday which allowed one business day for my garage to get me back on the road again before the long weekend.

As much as I long for isolation, I am grateful for the knowledge I can go anywhere I need to go by having a fully functional car in the garage.

I am feeling incredibly lucky this morning. My only challenge is in attempting to squeeze both a new car starter AND house insurance out of one month's wages. It's worth a try. 

When I first started visiting my aunt on a regular basis, I remember the sensation of feeling my uncle (her husband) and my dad's presence surrounding us. It was strong and I could almost reach out and touch it. Initially, it felt like a warm hug but as time went by, it felt a little more like someone walking along side me as I made my way through the days. Over time, that feeling diminished and I thought of it less and less. Last night, before I left my aunt's, I looked up at a picture of her and my uncle and my heart skipped a beat as I remembered how palpable I felt his presence over the course of time. I silently acknowledged his presence and wistfully thought of the years I have walked this walk with my aunt. I thought of the idea of all my "heavenly angels" for a fraction of a second.

I snapped back into the real world and as I headed home, I had every reason to feel stranded and alone, but I didn't. In reality, it is because I had a cell phone and all the numbers I needed to make my way back home. It was less of a problem and more of a slight inconvenience. But the feeling I had as I glanced up at the picture of my uncle was still within my subconscious thoughts. My state of well being was more than the convenience of cell service.

One day, my car will not start again for me. It is not today. I am grateful for my handy dandy mechanic at the end of the block, the funds to keep it running, cell service to call for assistance as needed and if there is an angel or three watching over me and keeping life only mildly inconvenient instead of major catastrophies, I am eternally grateful.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

 I woke up before the sun today. 

It was chilly so I pulled on some brand new fuzzy socks, grabbed a sweater and turned on the under the counter lighting in the kitchen.

I padded around the dimly lit house and welcomed the darkness around me.

The sun and summer have felt like an assault to my senses this year. I am ready to hunker in and hibernate.

I'm sipping my coffee as the sun starts to rise and I feel a calmness within.

Hello Darkness, I have missed you.

Pandora's Box

We woke up to a fresh, new calendar page this morning. A clean slate. A fresh new beginning.

I look at my personal calendar and I feel refreshed as I look at a blank page with no appointments, no upcoming commitments and thirty days of empty boxes.

Then I open the door to my home office. The same thirty days is filled to the brim with must-do, hope-to-accomplish, and endless to-do-lists. 

How can the same calendar page, only eight steps away, feel so different? Does the inability to catch up with my bookkeeping job spill out into the hallway and zap my energy reserves I have within my own personal life?

I am grateful for my office-with-a-door. I close the door in the same fashion one manages a closet filled to capacity and the contents must be stuffed back inside as one struggles to shut the door. My home office feels just a little bit like Pandora's Box. 

Is it by accident or design that our vacuum cleaner has taken up residence just outside my office door? I thought I had left the vacuum cleaner out, to encourage a spur of the moment vacuuming binge over the weekend. Instead, it appears this cleaning appliance is sitting outside the door of plenty, just waiting for the moment to clean up whatever spills outside the door.

I think it's time to get to work.