I Can Only Imagine

I recently listened to a podcast where the well worn phrase "I can't imagine" (what someone else is going through) was brought into focus and dissected. Of course we can imagine. If we are saying the words, we ARE trying to imagine. As I listened to the discussion, I immediately thought of the words "I understand" (what another person is going through) and how in people's desire not to assume what another person is enduring, could easily utter the words "I can't imagine" with the best of intentions.

When I hear of news that touches me deeply, it is most likely because it has touched a familiar chord and brings up my personal memories of a time when I was touched by a similar fate. I have been feeling deeply and remembering a time when I faced a similar situation a lot lately.

The loss of a parent is unique to each and every one of us. The relationship we have or didn't have with them; the arsenal of memories, good, bad or indifferent; the longing for what we had or wished we had ... the list is endless. Though we cannot assume what the one who has suffered a recent loss is enduring, if we have a parent (and we all do), we can try to imagine what it may feel like if we were to walk in those shoes.

I could fill a notebook with my own personal thoughts, reflections, lessons learned and significant memories to my experience but I want to silence my words. I simply want to listen. To hear what another is feeling as they walk into uncharted territory.

My story isn't important. I have walked a parallel path. I can empathize. I can listen. But I can only imagine what another is going through.

When I say "my thoughts are with you", I mean it with every fiber of my being. 

I can only imagine...

It's Not My Story to Tell

After almost three months of blogging silence, two months of writing morning pages and years of censoring my thoughts and words, the title of this blog post was born.

"Don't air your dirty laundry"; "Be careful what you put in writing"; "Don't give up your guts" are a few of the spoken and implied mantras I grew up with. I worked in the banking industry for decades where confidentiality was a part of my job description at the time and I have carried that forward into my present occupation. I hold confidences and try my best not to betray trust that has been bestowed upon me. 

In the past, I could pull the lesson from what life had in store. Something evolved over the course of time and the words, "It's not my story to tell" became my guiding light. 

I have tamped down my words, thoughts, emotions and reactions as I navigated this time of great withholding. It was this morning when the words came to me (at the end of my third page of morning writing). "My story is how I navigated my side of other people's stories. If I write about my journey, not theirs ... to tell a story without telling ALL ... I think that is the key. My side of the story. Learning as I go. Love and loss and parenting and change and acceptance and curiosity ... and the never ending goal of seeking JOY."

The path I have walked has been mine alone but the other side of the story is still a privacy I want to respect. There have been lessons learned, perspectives gained, a broader understanding and a lot of learning. 

"You need to write from a scar, not an open wound"

 ~ Glennon Doyle wrote this, but I'm unsure who gets credit for the origin of the quote

It is time. Wounds have healed. I'm writing from the right place. 

(the challenge will be to make time to write again)

Free at Last!

Five weeks later ... construction on our street is complete!

 It is a small thing but it feels so big. 

From decisions about what groceries I felt like carrying from where I parked the car,

to how often I deemed it necessary to roll out the garbage and recycling bins for pick up.

What I felt like lugging through the cat-walk between our home and where I parked my car became the basis on how I decided what to take home from or pack up to take to my little oasis-away-from-home.

From vacuuming the car to washing the bugs off the windshield after my highway travels,

to how safe I felt about my car parked out of my sight after my daughter's car window was broken.

The small pleasure of being able to park in our own driveway/garage last night was doubled because the road adjacent to ours (which had been closed off at least a month prior to our road closure) has been reopened which makes the simple act of "coming home" straight forward and easy.

To top it all off, the new traffic light installed at the corner where we turn off was green when I came home last night.

Oh, the little things in life.

It is a shame we often don't appreciate what we have until it is taken away.

The Future is Looking Good

My thoughts are scattered lately. I have been thinking of everything, nothing, trivial and important. Not one of the aforementioned categories have dominated my head space. I have let my thoughts waft in and out and through me.

Am I concerned about some things? Yes. Are they trivial matters or important ones. Both. Do I have control over any of the outcomes? Hmmm. Therein lies the crux of the matter for me.

Whenever I find my thoughts dominated by a predominant matter, I usually formulate an outline of what is within verses what is beyond my control. This reinstates a sense of calmness within.

I strongly feel that things will work out exactly as they are meant to be.

Work verses retirement? My steadfast answer is "I will work as long as my work lasts. I do not want to look for a new job and am willing to trust that all will work out as it is meant to be". I need the income and my employer(s) need what I have to offer. It is a mutually beneficial situation.

Enter my potential retirement home. I find myself longing for the day this will be my full time residence. I feel a sense of anticipation about the future which is new and exciting. 

I have wandered through the phases and stages of my life without much of a plan. Life always necessitated a move. Getting married. Having a child. Leaving a marriage. Moving to a new province. Changing jobs. Relationships. Parenting. Loss... 

Moving on and moving through each major life event has created a life I am very comfortable living. I am exactly where I am meant to be. 

Yet I'm longing for something. There is a feeling of unrest within. 

I want to fast forward through the next few years. I am finding myself eager to get through the messy middle of the present phase I'm living. I have one foot where I want to go and one foot securely placed in where I am.

There is so much out of my control. Yet I could take the reins and navigate the terrain to place me where I see myself wanting to be.

Life is complicated. There are so many valid reasons I must stay the course. I feel it in my bones. I am exactly where I am meant to be. The groundwork has been laid for a promising future.

I like where I am and the future looks good. I can't remember feeling quite this way before. There is a ominous feeling churning within me as I anticipate the unknown. 

Is it another sign?

I'm On My Way

From my limited personal perspective, a lot of good things came out of how I navigated throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. I have several examples but one of my all time personal favorites (though it may come after working from home) is online grocery shopping.

I take our grocery list and casually add items to our cart while I'm enjoying my morning coffee. I love the handy dandy Easy Reorder feature. I like the friendly reminders of personal favorites and regularly ordered items. I feel less alone in the fact that my grocery shopping cart is very similar from week to week and there is no judgement that comes with those reminders. Yes, it is a well documented fact that convenience foods and chips are staples in our household. 

I enjoy the convenience of being able to come back to my unsubmitted order and modify my choices. It gives me every opportunity to always remember to buy everything we need (even though I am usually starting my next shopping list moments after hitting the "Place Order" button).

The time I save by being able to order from home is by far the best byproduct of online shopping. I am less stressed. I don't have to navigate the aisles/people/line-ups. Someone does the shopping for me, rings it in and loads it all in my trunk. Shopping doesn't get much better than this!

The joy I feel when I press the "I'm on my way" on the shopping app is like no other.

One quick stop on my way from home from work and voila! I let them know what parking stall I am in and the color of my car. All I have to do is pop the trunk when I hear them coming.

I am not a fan of shopping at the best of times. I am so grateful the pandemic has introduced me to a method of shopping that suits me to a "T".

"I'm on my way" - one more little sign that simply makes me happy.

You're Almost There ...

It has been an interesting week. My goal of getting up an hour earlier than usual has been met with unforeseen obstacles which have hindered my ability to start my mornings with leisurely writing. Here is one more tale of my saga.

I start my mornings by signing into my work computer, checking emails, banking and taking care of any immediate work requirements. I proceed to make my morning smoothie and head into our den to do my online puzzles, check into the blogs I follow, do my own personal banking and utilize any leftover time to stop here to write.

As you can see, my morning routines are pretty wrapped up in the ability to access our internet. This was the message that started yesterday morning:

I panicked. I thought the problem was related to my work computer alone. Then I decided to check my personal computer. Then my WiFi access on my phone. No internet.

Our internet provider also provides our telephone and cable services. I checked the phone. No dial tone. I turned on the TV. Our cable connection was still alive and well.

I called for technical assistance. They weren't open yet. So I did what any logical person would do. I made a cup of coffee and sat down to watch TV. It was the only convenience available to me, wasn't it?

No.

As I sat and savored my coffee, I started counting my blessings. We had power. I had a cell phone to use while our house phone was out of service. There was nothing stopping me from writing but simple lack of motivation. 

A day without internet and a telephone started to take on a whole new look. I could clean up and organize my office files. I could shred my personal documents. I could vacuum the house; wash windows; tend to the weeds that are overtaking the catwalk beside our fence. 

Oh, the things I could do without the outside interference of a telephone and internet connection. I started to feel joyful at the prospects for the day.

But I had to persevere. Telephone and internet access are a big part of my work-from-home requirements. So I continued to call our cable provider every hour on the hour until there was an answer at 7:00 a.m.

I have only applause and praise for the person who answered my call and walked me through the hour that followed. 

Apparently my problem was my problem alone. It wasn't something affecting our area of the city. It was specific to my account. I was promised I would not be abandoned. "Please be patient with me and I will not end this call until your services are restored".

As promised, our call did not end until I had a work-around for every issue (and the issues seemed to compound as our call went on) and I was able to function within my home office as required.

Again as promised, I received a follow up call when all emails were restored, to ensure all my problems were resolved. 

I was in awe of a second incident of Excellent Customer Service within the first half of my work week. I thanked this customer service person profusely and ensured they knew how appreciative I was of everything they did to assist me.

The unfortunate part of my story is the original "You're almost there ..." message continues to be displayed every time I try to access my webmail on a Chrome browser. I've found a workaround solution to the problem but am haunted by the words. 

I have been re-watching the Gilmore Girls for the umpteenth time. I recently watched the episode The Road Trip to Harvard: 

"We're almost there and nowhere near it. All that matters is we're going." ~ Gilmore Girls

Hmmm ... is this yet another sign within the many signs that have been appearing within my life? 

You're almost there ...

Shattered

Monday mornings are a jolt of reality infused into our lives whether we want it or not. Monday can feel hard. Harder yet, when your mode of transportation has been vandalized.

A broken car window was the catalyst of this week. This is what I swept off the ground and out of the car and all that remained of a rear passenger window:

I uttered orders like a drill sergeant. "Call work. Tell them what happened and that you will be late. File a police report. I'll clean this up."

Bam! Bam! Bam! We shot into action and went forward from there. 

The car, minus a window, was drivable. I stayed home and proceeded to make phone calls to track down replacement glass for a 26 year old obsolete vehicle. 

After calling and investigating every source I could think of, I thought the only answer was to replace the car. I have been seriously considering upgrading my own 19 year old car anyway. It just wasn't in the budget quite so soon. But perhaps it was solution to the problem.

One nudge from my son, telling me he had found a place that could order in and replace the window was all it took. Unfortunately I had misinformed him about which window was broken so the story did not end there. 

I took a lunch break and resumed my search. First phone call after my break, with a little more information to go on, and voila! The window replacement was found, ordered, delivered and installed 48.5 hours later. At a cost that was almost $80.00 cheaper than my son's original quote.

The service from Unique Collision and Glass was second to none. Every promise was delivered as expected. Plus they provided not only shuttle service to work but also delivered the car to my daughter's place of employment when the work was complete.

An act of vandalism (the window was merely smashed - the doors were not even unlocked, nor was the car ransacked in any way to indicate theft was the motivation) had the power to shatter the hope of a new week dawning. But it didn't break us.

Back to 1978

I couldn't shred history without taking a sneak peek at a few statistics that interest me. 

The year I was about to shred was 1978 - the year I married and had my first child. So I stopped and pulled out a few documents:

Dad's rate of pay - $6.30 per hour

Christmas bonus - $50.00

Interest rate on a 2 year Guaranteed Investment Certificate - 10.25%

Electricity, water, telephone bill - $39.08

Heating bill - $26.13

Long distance rate - $0.46 per minute (after 6 p.m.)

Hmmm ... let's compare that to 2021 statistics I have on hand:

Minimum wage - $11.45/hr (note: a full time wage of $21.16 = annual salary of $44,012.80, which is considered the lowest end of the middle class tax bracket in Canada)

Christmas bonus - a $50 bonus beats $0.00 every time

2 year GIC (at the same institution) - 0.50%

2021 - monthly bills based on my equalized payment amounts:

Electricity - $114.00

Water - $90.00

Heat - $80.00

Telephone - $25.00

Long distance rate - $0.05 per minute any time of day

 

Dad's net pay biweekly cheque was $480.00 ($1,040 monthly)

Monthly bills totaled $75.00 (7% of his monthly wage)

His Christmas bonus was almost 5% of his monthly wage

A $1,500 investment earned $153.75 (at today's rate of interest you would earn $7.50)

Interesting math, no matter what way you spin it. How do your finances stand up to this 1978 comparison? 

Life was simpler back in 1978, or so it would seem by today's standards. We can't go back in time but it's interesting to take a peek every now and again.

Hidden Benefits

I have accidentally locked one of our cats in our den on more than one occasion. One would think one would learn their lesson after doing so. Twice. One would be wrong.

The scene of the crime:

The aforementioned cat was sitting on a chair in the den prior to my closing the door. When the mere act of vacuuming the room in close proximity to the cat didn't make him budge, I proceeded to vacuum the chair he was resting on. 

The cat moved, I vacuumed the chairs, then proceeded to close the door behind me. The cat guilty of hiding out under the couch while I did a visual check before closing the door was safely outside the room.

Then I left the house. For the weekend.

Did I mention we have two cats? We do. It was the second cat who somehow got locked in the den. For two days.

There were some minor demeanors of a cat in need of a litter box, but all in all the cat escaped relatively unscathed from the event.

The only victim was a huge box full of papers to be shredded. The box top was folded shut so the "liquid" did not infiltrate the entire box but it did necessitate cutting off the box flaps and initiated the process of shredding the first layer of papers-to-be-shredded.

One day at a time, one layer at a time, the cat-locked-in-the-den-incident has nudged me into action. This box of shredding WILL be dealt with. After months of procrastination, one ill fated weekend with a cat has forced me into action.

Our cat may require therapy to get over the emotional scars (in reality, he seems to be rolling with the aftermath rather well and had in fact dominated the couch in "his" den after the ordeal), but I am grateful for the much needed push to do what should have been done long ago.

The Writing on the Wall

There is something mystical about the way I feel each and every time I walk into my little home-away-from-home.

The house has been furnished with the excess from my home. It seems each piece of furniture comes with a story and a bit of history. The kitchen table was Mom's; Dad made the bench we use at the table; Dad reinforced one kitchen stool, while the second stool was Mom's; a bed that was once my brother's; the rocking chair Mom gave me prior to the birth of my youngest child; a dresser my sister refinished and donated when we moved to our new city with little besides the clothes on our back; a kitchen that is largely comprised of what was divvied up among us after Mom died; the stories go on and on. There is a large piece of history woven into the essence of the house. 

My son has sold his home and is storing some of his belongings within our joint investment which has added another dimension to our shared space. 

The only thing that has been out-sourced in the picture below are the kitchen chairs which fit into our home full of misfit furniture which has somehow come together in a wonderfully cohesive home.

Then there is the house itself, which seemed to call out and touch us in a up close and personal way  ...

 ... could it be as literal as the writing on the wall?

P.S. The flash on my camera wouldn't work when I snapped this picture, adding a dimness which enhances the writing on the wall, while still capturing the essence of the house which has been furnished with history. I kept the picture because it said what I wanted it to say. 

Welcome Home

This is the sign that greeted me as I walked into the weekend past:

The letter holder was Mom's. 

It has found its way back into a house that feels like home.

The writing was my son's,

so I looked for more of a message underneath the welcoming words.

Two words were enough.

I always feel such awe when

a small thing makes such a big difference.

So Many Words (so little time)

I feel the words bubbling up inside of me again and life-as-I-am-living-it feels too busy to take the time to write.

The moment I started writing that paragraph, my answer was obvious. Get up earlier!

I am a morning person. I love spending time at my little home-away-from-home. I wake up in the wee hours of the morning to open windows and blinds to let in all the cool morning air possible before the day heats up. Once up, I stay up. 

Staying up is the answer. I went back to bed the last morning I spent at my little oasis-away-from-home. When I finally deemed it time to get up, I felt awful. If I didn't know better, I would think perhaps I was sick. But I know better.

I know I felt just fine when I first awoke and opened up the blinds to harness the cool morning air. If I had went about my early morning rituals, I feel I would have avoided a day of feeling hungover (minus the alcohol).

Early morning is where it is at for me. 

I love the time before the rest of the world wakes up and starts demanding things from me. To talk. To think. To plan. 

The wee hours of the morning is the time when I let my thoughts wander wherever they want to go. Thoughts that are starting to beg to be written. Thoughts that propel me forward throughout the day. Thoughts that spark gratitude when I let myself sit still with seeds that have been planted the day(s) prior.

I have had so many blog posts in my mind that got lost along the way as life demanded more of me than time allowed. 

So many thoughts. It is time to make the time to be still with them. I like spending time with my thoughts. I enjoy my own company. For this, I am eternally grateful.

Penned In

Despite the vaguely worded construction notice our neighborhood received "Please remove all vehicles from the roadway and adjacent driveways", I was surprised to discover our entire driveway and garage would be completely inaccessible during "Phase 2" of a four phase plan:

I was relieved I noticed this scene unfolding prior to being completely blocked in but was a slight bit miffed at the inconvenience.

I woke up the next morning and gave myself a good talking to. Yes, this is a slight inconvenience. But it is for the greater good. The City is taking care of a water main replacement that wreaked havoc with our ability to access running water last winter. It was not just us. As the City remedied one problem, it created a new one. A domino effect of water main woes in the middle of a Saskatchewan winter was not fun for anyone.

I am so very grateful to live in a city where they take over and fix the problems. It is one of the benefits of paying property taxes. 

As I moaned and groaned about being "this close" to not being affected by the road closure, I was reminded that this repair was for the entirety of our street. If we weren't affected now, we would be next in line. 

The City has supplied us with running water, at no extra cost or inconvenience, while the water main is under repair. All in all, we must be grateful that such a major undertaking is affecting us as little as it is.

This has been a particularly busy week with out-of-home errands, appointments and commitments. As I saw that red fence going up I longed for the COVID stay-at-home recommendations. What if we had to stay home as long as it took for the repair to be completed? How would that feel?

As I found a temporary parking spot directly behind us and talked to my neighbor across the alley to explain the need to park in front of their home (immediately reminded of Mom's irritation when people she didn't know parked in front of her house), I felt myself feel relieved that we haven't been entirely confined to our home.

We have the freedom to come and go, while major repairs are underway. We have running water. We have everything we need while the City takes care of all of the heavy lifting.

I can't believe I'm writing this. I am relieved we are not as penned in as it appears. 

What I Try to Do

I have been trying. The habit of morning writing seems to ebb and flow but I keep thinking "Just write. Write anything". I want to resume the habit of writing and find that unconscious brain to fingertip writing that comes when I least expect it.

I found a piece of that puzzle within my quiet little home-away-from-home. Bigger thoughts and deeper writing found their way onto the page while I savored the early mornings. All over the page kinds of thoughts. Interconnected but varying hues of the same but different story.

As I pondered whether I will continue to go to this little oasis when it gets cold and snowy, the idea of utilizing this as a quiet space to  write and let my creative juices flow has trumped my reluctance to drive in the winter. 

In the meantime, I seem to be struggling to maintain the demands of work-and-life-at-home with my promise to "just write".

My life feels like this half stained fence. I ran out of stain before I ran out of fence. Valiant effort. But incomplete:

I could list all the things I have started and left hanging in the middle. Undone. Incomplete. Out of stain. Out of time. Out of motivation. But I won't.

I will just do as Maya Angelou says:

"What I try to do is write. I may write for two weeks “the cat sat on the mat, that is that, not a rat.” And it might be just the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing, I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says, 'Okay. Okay. I’ll come.' " 

~ Maya Angelou

Then I will hone in on completing the job.

I Had a Thought ... but I lost it

I'm not quite sure what my problem is, but I will attribute my mindlessness to month-end tasks and a variety of work-yet-to-do within my home office. I can't seem to hold onto a thought.

I don't seem to think too deeply these days. I hope this passes because I used to enjoy my thoughts.

I was walking through my morning and had a nice thread of thoughts going on. I thought "I should write about that". But somewhere between that thought and my computer screen, it got lost in the shuffle of the morning.

I was washing my sheets, vacuumed my room and accomplished a small bit of work beyond my home office. And poof! It was gone. 

I hope my mindlessness is a sign I'm living in the present. In the mean time I'm feeling just a little bit out to lunch.

I Can Do Hard Things

I looked at the ingredients within our refrigerator just begging to be assembled. 

And I did it!

Spaghetti & meat sauce; salad; ground turkey fried up and ready to be frozen (so the next "assembly" of ingredients will be simple); and a sandwich for my packed lunch.

Whew! 

Kitchen duty - done

Cat litter chores - complete

A load of laundry in the wash

Garbage is out

I'm ready for the day now.

It took two hours to tend to all my tasks,

but now I get to do the easy things.

I just have to go to work.

 

I Think I Need a Holiday

I wandered down our hallway to find our two furry felines doing what they do best:

I am so envious.

I'm ready for not only a "cat day", but a "cat week".

Thank goodness a long weekend is right around the corner.

It'll do.

Back to Reality

I did it. I went out. I survived. But it wasn't easy.

The "bar scene" is not my favorite any day of the week. Twelve days past the removal of COVID restrictions was simply the icing on the cake.

I find it reassuring in the stores to see most of the staff still wearing their masks. The plexiglass between the cashier and customer remains. Most people in the line up remain two metres apart. Even without the stickers and arrows directing traffic in the store aisle, the stores I have frequented remain somewhat "distanced". 

In the bar? No such thing. 

None of the staff wore masks. Tables are close together. No plexiglass in sight. To hear someone talk, you had to be two inches apart. Two metres? Not a chance.

People, people, people. Hugging people. Shoulder to shoulder people. So many people. 

But you know? You get used to it. Will I feel more comfortable after two weeks pass and I don't hear this bar was a COVID hot spot? You bet. But once I was in it, I surrendered to whatever fate may have in store.

I'm fully vaccinated. The people I went out with were vaccinated. One can only assume the majority of the people in the bar were vaccinated. The risk of infection is minimal. I know this.

All of this on my mind and there was ONE thing that superseded all of my worries:

People ARE still coloring their hair!! I went out in public with nine months worth of roots on full display. I felt like my "silver" hair caught what little light there was and reflected it in all its glory.

My circle has been so small since COVID. I really thought the world would take this chance to let their true colors show. 

I was wrong. Reality is not all it's cracked up to be. 

A Small Goal

If I had only one goal to fulfill, it would be this: "I never want to wake up feeling dread for the day ahead of me".

Sounds easy. 

We all have these days. A day of dread. Dreading work. Dreading a day of too much, too little, too stressful, too hard. Challenging relationships. Financial woes. Hard decisions. Lacking motivation. Depression. Anxiety. Ill health. Concern over loved ones.

The feeling of not wanting to face up to the day is not my worry alone. 

My anxiety this morning is not a big, onerous, worrisome concern. It is a social outing. I must go out with people. I must meet up with people on unfamiliar territory. I must walk into a situation I am completely uncomfortable with. 

This is the first post-COVID invitation I have accepted. I have some angst over being in a crowded area without social distancing and masks involved. There will be people talking loudly. I visualize the mist of saliva wafting through the air.

There will be laughter and joy. Comedy and music. Enjoying the talent family members have honed, with my family. 

The sad thing is, I cannot wait to wake up tomorrow morning and have this all behind me. 

I should have declined the invitation. Maybe I can still wiggle out of it. 

I have been here before. Doing hard things for me, means accepting invitations. 99.9% of the time, I am grateful to have walked through the hard and got to the other side AND enjoyed myself in the process. I am 90% certain I will wake up tomorrow morning with a happiness hangover. 

But today? I just want to live the life of a cat. Not a care in the world other than finding the most comfortable spot to savor the day. I highly doubt our furry felines wake up dreading the day ahead of them. Then again, who knows? 

Same Same Same

I love routine. Ruts. Same old, same old. I like to know what to expect on a day-to-day basis.

I thought of this as I made my breakfast smoothie - a routine I adopted over twenty years ago, from a smoothie recipe my middle child brought home when he was in Grade 8. Every morning, it is the same thing. I've adapted the recipe a little over the years but I almost always start my day with a breakfast smoothie.

Then I made a sandwich for the supper meal I pack up with me daily. I will eat the same sandwich until I run out of that particular ingredient. "Don't you ever get tired of sandwiches?" I am asked. Heavens no! Anything I don't have to think about when I assemble the ingredients is fine by me. As long as I like the ingredients. Repetition = easy.

I now have the luxury of having lunch at home. This offers all the variety I need. Once again, my choices are of the same old, same old variety. What I choose to eat is dictated by what may be nearing its expiry date in the fridge or what is quickest and easiest to prepare. Prior to working from home, I packed up two granola bars to eat as I worked. A granola bar without chocolate = a meal. Good enough! And I would run out the door with my repetitive meals on board.

I am pretty easy to please when it comes to eating. It is when I am trying to please others when I stress out a little. Most people enjoy variety. I would prefer it if people thought, "Oh, I'm going to Colleen's. It will be spaghetti & meat sauce. Again." I wouldn't mind being associated with one meal and one meal only. But since variety is the spice of life, I have about five supper meals I rotate when absolutely necessary. 

Clothes. Same thing.

I would love to go to a closet that had as few choices as necessary. Long sleeved, short sleeved or no sleeved tops. Perhaps two or three color choices. Jeans, capris or comfy pants. Black or denim is the only option required. Shoes? Comfort is all that matters. Comfort and preferably no holes in the soles.

My favorite option when it comes to online grocery orders is the "easy reorder". Yes!!! All my favorites in one spot. Click, click, click some more. The only decision required is "how many?". Same thing with Amazon. The "buy again" tab has my name all over it.

Extra curricular activities? Aaack. Not my favorite. Surprise me. Show up on my doorstep. Call me and ask "Do you want to do something right now (or within a few hours)?" My favorite part of having a part time home in the town where my sister lives, is finding her on my doorstep or driving up the driveway and popping in. I love it! Love it!! Love it!!! 

I can be lost in my small little world of same-ness with a little variety tossed in to spice things up a bit. But I thrive on routine. 

It is said that variety is the spice of life. I tend to believe "life" is spicy enough. The best way for me to handle the curve balls life tends to throw into a day/week/month/year is to maintain as much same-ness as possible. The fewer decisions I must make on a regular basis, the better equipped I am, to handle whatever comes my way.

It works for me. What works for you?

A morning smoothie with a cup of coffee on the side is the best part of waking up!

Valuing What We Already Have

This morning, I had a fleeting memory of a friend from long ago. She was a single mom. She wanted the best for her child. We worked together in a financial institution. She was fired when it was discovered she forged a withdrawal from an inactive bank account. We never spoke of this indiscretion but remained friends afterward.

The last time I visited with her, she was married and living "the good life" in a beautiful new house with no financial worries. It would appear she had it all. Except I walked away from our visit sensing something amiss. Her eyes weren't happy. There was something missing that money couldn't buy.

I'll never know what became of her. We lost touch and went on to live our own lives.

I have no idea why that memory surfaced this morning. The feeling I had when I walked away from that visit where everything looked perfect on the outside. I remember thinking "money can't buy happiness" and the look in those eyes are a reminder to this day.

If I have one trait I am willing to commend myself on, I would say it is the lack of envy. I don't want what others have. I don't look at material wealth, belongings, relationships, careers, vacations, physical attributes and feel jealous. I appreciate what others have but know if I want things differently for myself, I must do the work to get there.

Living a comfortable life, where I have the ability to pay the bills to keep a roof over our head, food and fuel to sustain us and an income that provides for day-to-day living is a blessing. 

It goes without saying that harmony within that very home, healthy relationships and physical/mental health and mobility top my list gratitude list.

But I am my mother's daughter. Once those creature comforts are met and sustained, my home and how I feel in it and about it tops my priority list, as far as material desires and wishes. 

Our home renovations a few years ago were a time of great joy. Spiffing up what we had with new flooring, doors, light fixtures, window coverings and new paint felt like more of a revival than a renovation. We carried that maintenance outside and our home felt loved again.

I didn't buy new furniture, pictures or accessories of any kind (well, I did buy a new soap dispenser, a red hand towel and oven mitts for the kitchen). I didn't need to go hog wild. I just wanted to maintain what we had and everything else was good enough. At least until the cats die. Then it is my mission to buy new living room furniture.

I feel very much the same way when it comes to this new little home-away-from-home I've adopted. I gaze across the street and see lovely newer homes with well maintained yards. I don't want what they have. I want what we already own to reflect a certain pride of ownership. Just spiff things up, clean and maintain what we have then just dream of future plans that reflect what we hope for. 

I don't envy those who have what I don't have. But I can't wait to wander aimlessly through the streets to see what others have done with their yards and see what ideas we can borrow from others. 

But there is something I must confess. I do have a pretty strong case of "laundry room envy". I look at other people's clean, functional laundry rooms with cool features like flooring, actual finished ceilings and a clean organized space to hang and fold laundry ... and I am envious.

I know I have nothing to complain about. Our laundry room has come a long way. The washer and dryer actually sit beside each other now (instead of across the room). We have a wall of shelving to die for. There is room within the laundry room to house our furnace, water heater, a spare fridge and all of our cat's needs. All it really needs is flooring, a ceiling and a clean folding space to complete my wish list.

But my home-away-from-home? I am grateful it came with a functioning washer and dryer. We would be lost without that. But beyond that? It's got a long way to go.

As Mike Holmes would say, we must start with the foundation. It's pretty scary in that basement. Creepy may be an apt description. With that new foundation will come the potential for the laundry room I've always wished for. Maybe. I'll still settle for a fully functional washer and dryer. For without those, a beautiful laundry room has no function.

Seeing the value in what we already have is key to feeling "rich". I have everything money can't buy. And I am grateful.

War Against the Ants

In the seemingly ongoing saga on "Us" verses "The Ants", I believe we have hit another stalemate. At least the ants are hiding this morning.

I returned from the weekend to notice ants teeming by the back door mat. We have a few ant traps in that area and the strategy behind the ant traps is not to kill the ants, as they are supposedly taking the bait home to the Queen Ant and this is how the colony is destroyed.

It is extremely hard to watch an ant and let it go on its merry way but I had faith that being out of the house a few days would give the ant traps an opportunity to do their work without having to watch the ants in motion.

I have no idea if I was wrong, but all reasoning went out the window when the ants kept marching on. On the kitchen counters. On the fridge. Wandering through the kitchen. A few even found their way to the bathroom.

I killed every ant I saw. I washed down the surfaces. I sprayed a heavy concentrate of vinegar and water to erase the scent of ant trails. All to no avail.

RAID to the rescue! No more messing around. "Kills on Contact"; "Defense system - Attack Control"; "Insect Killer". It may sound extreme but I am desperate.

I sprayed as much as I dared to spray in the hope of killing off the ants without doing in our cats. Thankfully our felines show no interest in hunting down, killing and eating the invasive species (I have a feeling they may enjoy a pet mouse as a toy, so have little faith our house is safe from rodents should they find a way in). It is my hope this will do the trick.

I haven't spotted an ant yet this morning. We may have a temporary ceasefire.

Nature has taken over the exterior of our little home-away-from home. Weeds are growing where the grass should be. Bugs have made their home in the nooks and crannies of the house siding and decks. Everywhere I look, I am reminded that nature will step in where humans leave an opportunity. 

It's one thing when nature takes its course outside. It's quite another when they set up residence inside the foundation of one's home.

A solid foundation, free of infestation of any kind is a good basis to build a life and home. Everything starts from there.

Weeds

Have you ever had so many weeds, you decide to pick them according to species? My guess is when most people have that many weeds, they simply spray them with a broad spectrum weed killer and annihilate ALL the weeds. That is most likely what I should have done but instead, my day began by telling myself "I'll just pick the thistles".

As I was picking thistles, I noticed a yellow flowered invasive species dominating the front yard. My research tells me these are "goat's beard". I knew they weren't dandelions but they certainly looked like a weed. So I picked thistles and goat's beard, deciding to leave the dandelions, clover, portulaca, yet another yellow-flowered weed, fox tail, a silver leafed variety of weed and more weeds than I can name for another day. 

I have no idea how many fir trees there are in this lot. What I can say, is there are so many that they have created a privacy hedge between the house and road. There are fir trees in the front yard, the back yard, the side yard and the yard that goes beyond the driveway. Add a drought to a lawn that is fighting for survival due to the root system of all the trees and the only sprigs of grass that have survived are quack grass. 

Mowing the "lawn" does little more than kick up a dust storm and spread the weed seeds around. There is really little, to no grass to mow. Thus, I set out on my mission to pick weeds by the type I most wanted to be rid of.

It is an endless task. I am no where near complete. The lot is huge. Where the lot ends there is a street-side section of "grass" (more weeds). Then there are what I think are tree saplings sprouting up in a few different areas. 

I concentrated on the front, side and back yard and started picking weeds that are growing on the driveway. It was only when I was walking home from the store when I noticed the excess of yard that has gone wild. I filled a large black garbage bag with weeds and I have not made a dent in the task at hand.

As I questioned my sanity and explained myself to the neighbors who dropped by, I was convinced I had taken on a job that one good spray would have handled.

Then ... I discovered this:  

"Bluebells!!", my inner child screamed inside my thoughts. I have no idea what these are officially called, but I remember walking through the natural terrain on our farm as a child and I have called them bluebells ever since. I was immediately transported to a time where I was young and without a care in the world. 

The next day, I noticed this:

A wild rose. We have a front yard full of wild roses that have been mowed down regularly. This brave little flower revealed itself to me as if to say "Save us! We are here just waiting to be nurtured".

Then behind a few fir trees I found what may or may not be a daisy, on its way out of its flowering season.

If we had sprayed the yard, we would have lost all that Mother Nature was offering.

It was like I had gone for a walk in a field. All this nature was in our very own front yard.

Feeling Like Home

Since we got possession of our little oasis, I have spent five out of six weekends there. The weekends have been seasoned generously with family, work-around-the-house-and-yard, regular meals and a little rest & relaxation.

This time felt different. 

I arrived Friday night at around 8:15. I wandered around the house and yard, then started picking a few weeds. I picked weeds and then transferred my ambition to the peeling paint on the back door frame. I picked and scraped and puttered for quite a while. It didn't feel like work. It felt good.

Time passed easily. The next thing I knew, the sun was setting and I took Mother Nature's cue and called it a day.

I awoke at 5:00 a.m. the next morning and went through my morning routine. I made my breakfast smoothie and had a cup of coffee. I altered my routine by doing ONE thing differently. I changed out of my pj's and wore yoga pants and a comfy top instead. That way, I could sit outside and feel dressed. 

This also provided one unexpected bonus. Instead of sitting still, I started sanding the door frame I had scraped the previous night.

One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, the day was done and I was ready to call it a day. I showered, walked over to the grocery store and soaked up all the cool, air conditioned air I possibly could, picked up a few vegetable courses for my meal and came home.

I sat down at the end of the day and felt good. So good. So good, that I had a repeat performance of productivity levels the next day.

I spent the bulk of my weekend in the yard. Puttering. One task led to another, then another and then some more. I ran out of weekend before I ran out of work.

"Before"

(actually after the deck was cleaned up enough to stain)

After

Three neighbors came over and introduced themselves. I'm so glad we moved in the summer. Being outside makes it so much easier to be neighborly. Plus, I was busy working and sweating so there was no expectation of looking "good". I am who I am, crazy hair, frizzled with humidity, old clothes and adorned simply by the glow of a sense of "happy" that feels better than any makeup I've ever worn.

This is the first weekend I didn't see a family member but neighbors stepped up and stepped in to fill the void. It felt like the world was telling me "Family is good. Friendly neighbors are all around. Just look up." One of my new neighbors even told me of all the connections I already have within this community. 

I feel full to the brim. I feel like I am exactly where I am meant to be and heading in a direction I was destined to find.

I feel like I'm home. 

I Wanted to Stay

The temptation to spend Sunday night at my little home-away-from-home was strong. I could have stayed. An early morning commute this morning could have put me where I needed to be in time for my work day. But I came home. Time to catch my breath and transition back to my regularly scheduled life won.

Sunday morning coffee on the back deck at my home-away-from-home

Monday morning coffee at home

 When I realized I could not head out to this little oasis this upcoming Friday due to a social commitment (I miss COVID restrictions already), I literally sighed aloud in a room by myself, "Oh NO!!" 

I don't want to go home! Don't get me wrong. I still love being home. But to love how I feel in this new home-away-from home? What a wonderful feeling!

Cat Tails

We have two cats. Cats who normally make their presence known by patting us for positive attention or scratching furniture to get any kind of attention. When I sit down at the end of my day, it is not unusual to find both cats hanging around or on top of me. But if they aren't around, I am pretty certain they are hanging around in their Other Favorite Person's bedroom. 

Normally, I don't seek out to find our cats but I should be triggered to remember to look if one cat is grabbing all the attention and there is no other cat around. Especially when both of "their people" are in the same room.

On two recent occasions, I didn't notice one cat was missing for an undetermined amount of time. I do know the cat who normally sleeps at the foot of my bed had been AWOL two nights in a row. I had no vivid recollection of the last time I had seen him. I just knew I had opened the door to our den a day or so prior. So when his absence was finally noticed, I simply opened that door. Voila! One black cat, looking none the worse for wear nor stressed about the entire ordeal. He simply ambled out of the room, looking for a scratch on the neck or some form of attention. No big deal.

The second time the same cat was missing in action, we did catch on within the same day. Once again, the door was opened and he calmly walked out ready to join us in the living room and reap the rewards of two humans being available to love on him. I knew for a fact I had double checked that room before I closed the door and left the house. I checked everywhere in sight but I did not check under the couch.

This morning, I walked by the den and noticed this:

Aha!! They DO hide under the couch sometimes!! I knew it had to be true but I was hesitant to believe it until I had proof.

Then our Master Hider appeared in the hallway. It was his partner in cathood who did not know he had to tuck his tail under the couch to hide effectively. 

Our little black cats provide us with endless entertainment, joy, cat hair and Cat Tales. 

Wisps of Hope

Something has shifted in my list of priorities. Gazing out our living room watching, waiting and hoping to spot one of our neighbor rabbits hop by has fallen by the wayside.

I open the blinds and sometimes forget to scour the streets to see if I can spot a rabbit hiding in plain sight. I miss the snow and evidence of their presence when I'm not looking, by finding rabbit tracks in the snow.

I wonder about the fate of our neighborhood rabbits. Are they still around? Has something killed them off or scared them away? Why haven't I spotted a rabbit for so long? 

I walked to the mailbox to mail a letter this morning, when what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a rabbit!!

This little rabbit did not run off and hide. Instead, it kept about one house ahead of me until it finally veered off in the opposite direction.

My faith was restored. I smiled a little smile and my heart was happy.

Then I came home and look what I spotted in our front yard. 

Five "white patches" (just the size of a rabbit perhaps?)

Could it be?? Could rabbits be hanging out and shedding the last of their winter white fur coat? 

Or ... are these spider webs? 

I choose to believe it is rabbits, leaving evidence of their presence in the only way they can without snow.

Wisps of hope are all around. 

Stop and hope and wonder.

Wish for impossible things.

Take time to appreciate the small stuff.

It's worth it. 

The Domino Effect

One decision. One action. One move in a forward direction has the power to change so much.

I write this sentence and my life flashes before my eyes. All the times one move in a forward direction after making a hard choice has changed my world forever.

Today's story is just one example of the power of choice. It all started with the words, "Random idea for you to think about ..." 

It was as if I walked into a chess game with all the game pieces already in play and all I had to do was make ONE move and the game played out as well as we could have ever hoped for (as far as we know so far).

So many variables came into play. Each and every game player was in a time and space to make a move. Each of us made calculated decisions based on exactly where we were at that place and time. In no time flat, an offer was on the table for a small house in small town Saskatchewan. The rest is history-in-the-making.

The seller of the property was in a place where they accepted our offer. That is a story I will most likely never know. I just hope their decision to sell at this particular time has been a choice that has had a positive effect in their life.

In the short term, this investment has opened up a whole realm of possibilities for my co-owner. This move changed their possible range of trajectories in a direction which feels nothing short of amazing.

In the long term, this could become my future home in retirement. I am asked on a regular basis to question the wisdom of this decision. I fully believe and my constant answer is "There are about a billion little things that must fall into place between 'now' and 'then', but I have faith that all will work out exactly how it is meant to be."

My date of retirement is contingent on how long my present job lasts. It could be long term. It could be a short time span. I honestly don't know. 

I am completely content not knowing. IF I knew what was coming I would be consumed with all that must take place and worry about my financial state of affairs far too much. The state of not knowing has given me a grace period to simply take one step at a time and do the next-right-thing.

My youngest must become fully independent and step into their own life before I can sell our present day home. Again, there are many variables at play which make estimating their date of departure from our safe little haven we call home. I trust all will work out in its own way. I have no need nor desire to know exactly how or when this will occur.

The house itself has a laundry list of repairs and maintenance which at some point may make us question the wisdom of our decision. But in this moment, today, for the exact purpose we made an offer on and purchased this home, it is in move-in-condition and it has felt like home from the moment we adopted it as our own.

In the short term, there are things I can do with materials I already have on hand. It is costing nothing more than my time and effort. My thoughts are healthier when I am consumed with a project and the rewards are priceless. 

I have not felt this content and focused on a future "aspiration" since I completed my dad's family's book of memories in the fall of 2014. This alone is worth its weight in gold. 

One decision. So many potential outcomes. The domino effect of living life is ongoing. This can go many ways. I am beyond grateful our dominos seem to be heading us in a positive direction.

Next project - free of charge - scrape and paint the exterior door casings