First World Problem

I feel like I've been using this space as a whining board. Yes, I've shown up and written regularly for one month. Yes, I've accomplished what I set out to do. But when I reread my recent posts I don't find anything terribly inspiring, amusing or of any real value. They are words forcefully transferred from my brain to my fingertips in an effort to rekindle the connection that was once there.

I know how fortunate I am. 

I wake up every morning and I'm able to get out of bed without pain, anxiety or fear of what the day holds in store. I am in good health. I am sheltered, warm, have clean water, appliances that cook our food and keep it cold; appliances that wash and dry our clothes and dishes. We have ample food plus the ability to replenish our supplies. I live in a safe community and country. I have a car to make it simple to get where I want to go. I have a steady income stream and work for people who value me. I have strong and solid relationships within my safe little community. I am blessed. I am grateful. I am content within my predictable little world. Thank you.

But can I end the month with one final rant? 

Am I the only person who has to vacuum the bathtub before they have a bath? Honestly! The cat hair is everywhere!!

Trust me. The picture does not fully portray the amount of hair in the tub.

I think it's time to fix the dripping faucet ... 

The Bonus Hour

The bonus hour I gained by getting up an hour early yesterday had a ripple effect throughout the day. Perhaps other factors helped enhance my productivity but I believe the hour tacked onto the beginning of the day had the greatest impact.

I'm "this close" to meeting my March 31st deadlines. Personal income taxes and GST are due April 30th. Corporate taxes are due June 30th. Then GST is due again July 31st. I'm going to start telling people I work for Revenue Canada - literally and figuratively. They are the boss of me. It seems I'm always scrambling to meet one of their deadlines and as a reward, I have a nice little sum I owe them when I file my own taxes. I work for them, yet I pay them. Something is terribly wrong here.

All whining aside, it feels good to conquer those hard things. In retrospect, the hardest part of the job is the procrastination, strategizing and figuring out my first move. Once started, the finish line is so much easier to see.

As soon as the dust clears from meeting the next set of deadlines, I should tame the beast that is my office. Piles of paper are everywhere. Unfinished tasks galore. 

It is my hope that as the weight of my bookkeeping world lifts, it will make room for me to add a dose of "living" to my life. Leaving the house. Outside contact with the world. Extending invitations. Even scarier - accepting invitations. The hard things don't end in my office. They are everywhere.

One forward step at a time. One forward step.

Up Before the Sun

I used to pride myself on being an early riser. I've slipped. 6:30 feels like a much saner time to get up and it works in all ways except ... the loss of those early morning hours I love so much.

The hours when it feels like no one else in the world is awake. Any time after 7 am feels like it is fair game for the world to intrude. The moment that feeling arises, something inside of me changes and I slip into a different mindset.

The sun is rising earlier these days and it feels good to be awake before the daylight starts to creep into the day.

I'm sitting in the dark, with a hot cup of coffee and I just kicked the cat out of the room. I. am. alone. (and it feels so good)

It is unfortunate the biggest incentive to get up earlier this morning is (are) a looming deadline(s) in my bookkeeping world. I feel like Mr. Incredible at the beginning of the movie "The Incredibles", as he decides to intercept a car chase, rescue a cat from a tree and nab a purse snatcher on the way to his wedding, while looking at the time and uttering, "I still have time..."

Time is running out and the sun is going to wake up soon. I'm running out of time.

Study on Aging

I have been involved with an aging study for a very long time. I know I was young and naïve during my first interview because I remember one (slightly paraphrased) question: "Do you have people in your life who would be available, if needed, who would live with you/live with them if the need arose?"  Life was simple in those days. I thought about the question and without serious thought of what the implications to that question meant, I replied "yes". 

[Insert head slap here]

Dad lived in a long term care home the last years of his life so I did know what worst case scenarios could arise. I had little understanding of the varying degrees of dependence between Dad's need for full time care and Mom's fiercely independent life. When answering that question, I hope I added a good dose of Mom's independent nature added that I would not put someone in that position. Perhaps I did, because as soon as I typed those words, I tend to think there was a follow-up to my answer which asked if I would have the means to pay for any support I may need. I would love to read a transcript of that first interview and see how starry eyed I was in my younger years.

As I tiptoe into this age and stage of life, the learning curve of aging and its affects on our population is gaining momentum. Every story is shaded with different hues of circumstances that no one expected, wanted or were fully prepared for all implications that evolve from a serious health issue. 

My interview with this aging study was a few days ago. My inability to remember many of the long list of words they dictate was minimal, which declined to "three" after the interview progressed. Losing my thoughts on the daily, like that elusive wafting cat hair continues to be a concern. Inserting the wrong words into a conversation. Am I literally losing my mind?

Serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; wisdom to know the difference. Let us add "resilience" to that ... the ability to do what is within our own power. I can exercise this brain, take it for walks, stimulate it by doing more than I have been doing. 

Just what I need. Another goal ... 

I Should Have Picked a Shorter Month

My goal to write once a day has been harder to accomplish than I thought it would be. Most of all, because I don't find I have anything of substance to write about. I used to have the ability to live a relatively full life, filter out the nuggets of an experience and find a moral in most of my stories. A beginning, a middle and a final paragraph with meaning. 

Hmphf.

Has that ship sailed? Or has it not even left the port? I scribble down thoughts when I think of them because most of my thoughts these days are fleeting. I have trouble holding onto the little storylines that run through my mind on the daily. It's a little like catching a wafting tuft of cat hair that is caught up in an air draft and appears like it may float along endlessly. This explains why I need to vacuum the moment I think I'm done. But the state of my brain? A little worrisome.

My well worn reminder to write is littered with coffee stains, figures and notations of various snippets of my mind as I have stumbled through the month.

I am trying. I hope to improve with age ...

Cat Co-star Enriches Life

Yesterday was a write off. Completely, totally and without a doubt. Do I feel better for having a "cat day"? It did motivate me to do more today than yesterday so that is something. Not much. But I'll settle for better.

I watched the movie "A Man Called Otto" and was pleased a cat co-starred along with Tom Hanks. The cat didn't play a pivotal role but it did soften the edges of Tom Hank's character who was described as "a grump who no longer saw the purpose in life" (after his wife died).

I am afraid the same description could be used to describe me lately, so ending a cat-day with a movie that starred a cat who enriched a grump's life was a pleasant diversion. 

All the cat hair serves a purpose after all.

I Should Stay Home and Work

The goal: I should stay home and work

The reality (in pictures ... there are no words):

Happy Saturday to you.

Simple Joys

I have been going through the paces of living and not really soaking up the sunny moments of life.

I haven't stepped out and let nature entertain me.

I haven't spent time savoring the antics of our (aging) cats.

I haven't found the magic of an inconsequential moment.

I have just been living my quiet little life,

sorting my clean socks by the amount of wear left in them as I pair them up.

It is nearing the end of sock season so I've sprung quite a few holes in my socks lately.

My favorite fuzzy black socks (that must match my black pj's) are nearing the end of their life.

I have one pair that is better than the other so I've been saving the better pair and wearing out the other pair sufficiently so they will be completely used up before I toss them.

Yesterday was laundry day and the few pairs of socks I have left were in the wash.

So after my bath I lathered up my feet with body butter and put on a brand new pair of socks.

I felt like I was walking on a cloud.

The body butter/new sock combo was a gift I didn't see coming.

All for the bargain price of $0.83 plus tax!

The best things in life are all around us.

May you find your joy in something simple today.

Then simply savor the moment.

Serenity

Serene is not a word I would use to describe myself lately. Yet when I sit and ponder the world swirling about me, I think I'll give myself a little more credit.

There are a number of situations where I feel I have no control. My decision is to keep doing what I am doing until I can do it no more. It is my decision. I have a choice.

I could quit, walk away, be angry and deal with the repercussions from my actions. I could confront, offer options, suggestions and start a conversation. I could feel spiteful, stew in my own turmoil and let things simmer up until they boil. Or I could be still, listen to my thoughts, feel what I'm feeling and act on those thoughts later.

I am pretty good at compartmentalizing this little life of mine. I can physically close the door of my office at home. All of my work is contained within that enclosed space. I close the door in a physical sense and I feel myself walk away mentally. Normally, I don't carry the weight of my work load outside the door. Other factors may seep out from under the door and leak out into my ability to cope. But the workload itself? Pretty well contained.

The physical door of my office is a good metaphor for the mental doors I have erected. I can be in the moment, feel compassion, care deeply and wonder if I have anything of value to offer when I am in the presence of someone who is going through something hard. Yet when I hang up the telephone or the communication ends, my residual thoughts go toward "Is there anything I can do?" In most cases, there is little action  anyone can do to ease someone else's load. Personally, I know the value of having someone listen, give me the ability to hear my own thoughts outside my head and that alone helps lighten my load. 

I listen, I care, then I let it go. I don't take ownership of someone else's troubles. If I kept the weight of everyone's woes on my shoulders I would be immobile and of no use to be there the next time. 

The Serenity Prayer was my guiding light during a dark time in my life and I believe its message has been engrained into my subconscious mind:

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference"

Serenity. Courage. Wisdom. 

If you are in a situation where you cannot change something, I hope there is a glimmer of serenity you can hold onto. At least for now. 

Be still, listen to your thoughts, feel what you are feeling and act on those thoughts when you can.

Life Gets in the Way

I am sitting in a dark room, with a cup of coffee and a closed door in an attempt to tune out life's distractions (cats). I am curious to know what I would write if I lived in a vacuum. 

What would it feel like to be removed from distraction? No buzz of an internet, cell phone or TV signal. No deadlines biting at my heels, no cat hair stuck to those very heels, no bank book to balance. No responsibility to tend to the needs of others.

The past weekend was filled with everything I love. A bonus day off. Time at my little oasis away from home. Time spent with immediate and extended family. Time alone. 

But I was still connected.

A phone call that was necessary to take, in order to set up an appointment for Monday morning broke the spell. I woke up to this week with responsibilities pulling dragging me out of bed and out the door. A fog warning and yet another "check engine" light were not enough to stand in the way of what needed to be done.

A looming deadline should have me working at warp speed so I don't have to work through the weekend. But it's not. Distractions. Some real, most self induced. 

Real - the need to make (yet another!) bank appointment; make arrangements to pick up a cheque; paperwork to be completed for my bosses' boss; follow up on invoices I've been promised but not yet received; phone call reminders to nudge others into action. I have paper piles of things-to-be-done for others that I can't do on my own. The daily and weekly work must be tended. Then there is that looming deadline ...

Important - tending to the "check engine light", which seems to have finally broken the domino effect of a repair made a week prior; a phone call I have been wanting to make for the past week, which requires follow-up action; tending to the showerhead that is so clogged we are showering under a trickle of water; washing and taming my hair (again) ...

Never-ending - need I say "cat hair"?; cat litter; making lunch so I'm ready to run out the door to my other job; the need to replenish gas, milk and groceries; vacuuming and house cleaning tidying in general.

Self induced - oh, there are so many things in this category! Listening to my favorite podcast (We Can Do Hard Things); word and number puzzles; checking the status of my personal financial state of affairs; watch the backlog of recorded TV programs; Instagram check-ins; check email; testing the new cat-hair-removal gizmo I just bought (yes, it gathers the cat hair but the hair wafts into the air and lands on the freshly cleaned area which simply perpetuates the need to vacuum).

My thoughts are pinging around in my head like a ball in a pinball arcade game. Concerns over family members near and far. Frustrations over that which is out of my control...

That which is out of my control.

Those are the words that hit home the hardest. What do I have the power to do? Have I done it? "Do what can be done, then let it go" has been a long standing motto of mine. Perhaps the reason I can't let go is because I have not yet done what is within my control. 

Do what can be done, then let it go.

Coming Up Empty

Writing every day is hard. 

It's not that I don't have thoughts I'm thinking, pondering and mulling over. 

It is simply that I have not cleared the slate so I can be still with those thoughts 

and put them together in coherent order.

So I seem to be coming up empty.

If at first you don't succeed,

try, try again.

A Much Needed Reminder

There is nothing quite like a memorial service to serve as a reminder - if my life was to be summed up tomorrow, would I be satisfied with the recap?

The first thing I noted, is my story would not be well illustrated. Reminder to self - take pictures, show up in pictures, if something feels photo-worthy document it. 

There is three act structure used in storytelling is the Setup; the Confrontation; and the Resolution. I lived my first and second acts according to script. My introduction to life provided a a good, solid foundation that has kept me grounded when the going got tough. My second act was fraught with storylines that didn't unfold according to plan but I overcame challenges and forged onward to the next plot twist. This third act? It's early, but so far I'm not pleased with how I'm scripting the opening lines to this act. 

I trust I have time to remedy this. This memorial was a much needed reminder.

Unseen Presence

I love spotting footprints in the snow.

Evidence of what has walked the path we are walking ...

An unseen presence of life all around us that we know is there but have not seen.

This weekend, in particular, those bird tracks, cat tracks and hoof prints feel like a nice warm hug.

Nature nurtures me. May you find serenity in the world outside your door.

A Life Lived Well

I am quietly reflecting on a Celebration of Life for my uncle. My dad's brother, a brother (I was told) who most resembled Dad's character and work ethic. A quiet mannered, unassuming kind of guy who was so much more than met the eye.

Dad came from a family of seven boys. The brothers have so many memories and stories that have been told and retold throughout the years. I have listened to them relive those memories and watched the years slip away. The essence of their youth filled the room, eyes twinkled and there was easy laughter among them.

Dad died young. Far too young. A massive heart attack took him from us shortly before his 58th birthday. His body survived but we lost every other part of him that fateful day forty years ago.

I love to hear people speak of Dad, listen to the stories and reminiscences from siblings, uncles, cousins and family friends. Everyone sees a little different piece of a person and I love gathering those memories from different perspectives and recreating Dad's story in my heart and mind.

As I watched the slideshow of my uncle's life, it was a kaleidoscope of memories that encapsulated his essence, his life and reflected his story. A farmer at heart, the farming pictures were plentiful and seasoned his story to perfection. Family photos from all ages and stages of life. He was a son, a brother, a husband, a dad, a grandfather, an uncle, a friend and a valuable member of the community. He worked hard, worked fast and ran even faster. 

As I watched the years unfold on my uncle's slideshow, I was drawn to the photos after he retired. A time when he could vacation a little, enjoy cabin life, fishing, vacations with his brothers, enjoying grandchildren, playing cards, living a simple life but living it well. 

These were the years Dad didn't live to enjoy. As I watched my uncle's story told in photographs I envisioned what Dad's life could have been. It the life I wish you could have lived, Dad. 

It was a life lived well. 

The Best Part of Waking Up (is coffee in my cup)

It is my goal to wake up, grab a cup of coffee then come immediately to this spot to write. Instead, this is what happens:

• wake up
• realize its wash day
• change out of my pj's so I can wash them
• make and de-cat-hair my bed
• tuck the top sheet over my quilt to avoid cat gaining entry and sleeping in my sheets
• toss in a load of laundry
• top up our cat's water while I'm there
• turn on the kettle
• open blinds
• run the dry mop over the floors to tame the cat hair within
• get lost on Instagram as I (allegedly) check for signs of life from my son on vacation
• start a new post here
• get lost on Facebook as I (allegedly) search for an obituary
• toss laundry in the dryer
• clean cat litter while I'm there
• make a smoothie and second cup of coffee
• listen to a We Can Do Hard Things podcast while I...
• work on my daily word and number puzzles
• call our friendly neighborhood mechanic 
• run my car back to the shop (domino effect of problems after a repair three days ago)
• turn on my work computer and start morning routines
• put laundry away
• finish puzzles
• run out to buy milk since my day is already off to a bad start
• have an early lunch
• finish listening to podcast 
• back to work
• cat hair cleaning tool arrives in the mail - have to test it out!
• vacuum
• get lost in the day
• wake up to a new day and find an absolutely empty post from yesterday

Of all the morning goals I set for myself, I only seem to accomplish one of them. I have a cup of coffee. Every day. Amen to that.

I'm "this" far into the day ... 

A Blank Slate

Not a lot of words. A picture of my brain may look like an empty chalkboard.

Or this ... cat hair on a (clean?!!) bathroom floor.

One Tab at a Time

I was making a cup of coffee to bring with me into my cozy little writing spot, wondering what to write about this morning. I had scribbled the words "Multitasking - like a two year old when I ran my daycare". As I thought that thought, instead of pouring milk into my coffee cup, I poured it into the small glass where I keep my daily vitamins (so I had my vitamins with/in milk this morning and several hours ahead of schedule). Apparently, I can't even think and make a cup of coffee at the same time these days. 

Talking? My brain to mouth connection is going. I'm thinking one thing and saying another. I catch myself at times "Did I just say 'chicken'? I meant to say 'kitchen'." Other times someone else catches me, "You put the sheets in the oven? [washer]" As often as I catch myself, I wonder how many times I don't.

Housecleaning? I prefer to focus on one task at a time but when expecting company, suddenly there are at least sixteen things I want to get done. I flit from one task to the next, leaving a trail like a young child does when they lose interest in a toy. I would smile to myself when I found one toy dropped when a new one was picked up, find the new toy and the same chain reaction. I find the vacuum cleaner, lights left on, rags and cleaning accessories in much the same manner as the two year old who dropped a toy when they found something more interesting. 

Work? My office zone is like nothing I have worked in before. I'm a stickler for organization. A place for everything and everything in its place. If I could stick to one task when I work, I would get so much done. But the phone rings, an incoming text or email or someone dropping off something. All work-related, each requiring my attention. I drop what I'm working on and pick up the new toy piece of paper, work on that distraction and often get distracted again (and again) before I'm back on task. 

I also have a little problem with multi-tabbing while puttering away on my own time. I open one tab on the computer to listen to a podcast; open a second tab to work on word/number puzzles; get stuck on a puzzle so open a third tab to start a new puzzle and go to the one I'm stuck on later; need a clue to figure out an answer to a puzzle and open a fourth tab; then decide to check on my bank and credit card balances; then remember I had some emails to follow up on .... 

Aaack!! At what point does a person wonder if they have a medical condition? Spitting out the wrong words is worrisome. Catching myself in the act is a relief. Finding cleaning tools strewn about the house is exasperating but I do remember how I got pulled off task and eventually it all gets done. I'm getting my work done and meeting deadlines but I almost forgot a deadline this month and we are at the half way mark. Multi-tabbing is something I consciously deal with. I take a deep breath and consciously close the excess tabs. "One tab at a time, girl. One tab at a time."

I used to feel like a multitasker extraordinaire. I prided myself on starting six different tasks, knowing each of those tasks would be done. Now? When I find the vacuum cleaner in the middle of the hall after a day or two? I put it away. I close the tab on that. 

One task at a time. One tab at a time. If only life didn't come with so many distractions ...

Foiled Again *Updated*

Our determined black cat has found another way to gain entry under my bedding ...

My bed was fully tucked in. A top sheet, turned sideways so I could tuck in both sides of the bed so Jet couldn't sneak under the quilt.

So he entered from the top.

There is an almost invisible little lump that I only investigated because the top of the bed looked askew.

Today? I have tucked in the top and both sides of the sheet atop my bed. With Jet's renewed interest and fast learning curve, I highly suspect he will be entering from the bottom of the sheet now. At least he can only sleep on top of my quilt via that route. 

I've moved the vacuum cleaner into my bedroom. Maybe I should park it right on top of my bed.

*6 hours (or less) later ...*

He's baaaack!

Shared History

It's hard to leave my weekend oasis but here I am. Monday morning with nowhere to go but home. Real life, cat hair, snow and responsibilities. Ahhh. There is no place like home.

I love the sister-time I have at my little weekend oasis. A group text among my siblings on Friday was the precursor to the weekend. A shared memory among four people. Siblings. Growing up with the same parents at different times. A shared history but not always shared memories.

My sister-time is seasoned with "remembering when". I have always loved listening to my sisters (who are nine and eleven years older than me) reminisce about their childhood on the farm, many of those memories included cousins, grandparents and a glimpse of who Mom and Dad were during that time. 

My brother and I moved off the farm to a large city a province away, after my youngest sister was married. We grew up with a dad who had a "9 to 5" (with all the overtime he could work) job that included weekends and vacation time. My sisters grew up with a dad who was a hard working farmer whose hours were long and holidays were a luxury rarely afforded. As Mom once said, "Why do you think we got married on the coldest day of the year?"

We knew two completely different sides of Dad. I believe we also knew two completely different sides of Mom. 

Sibling time is a time when we meld those memories together. It is a time when little memories tend to resurface. Even after all of time I've spent with my sister the past few years, I smile inside when I hear one or the other or both of us remark, "I didn't know that" in regards to a family memory.

I spent my childhood waiting to grow up. I assumed all children felt that way but I now wonder if my desire to grow up and move out like my sisters, was motivated by a wish to join the adult sisterhood. Mom planted many seeds that grew into the close relationship I have with my brother. Now that our ages span from 57 to 73, instead of 12 to 28 we are seeing life through a common lens of mature adult beings with shared memories and support.

The memory of Dad's massive heart attack was the common thread my brother wrote about on Friday. He was the one who was home with Mom when it happened. The rest of us were married and although I was geographically the closest, as my siblings recalled their memory of that day, I felt I was the most remote.

A tragedy united our family in a way we had never been before. There is a date in our history that marks the time, place and circumstances each of us were experiencing at the time. That day was forty years ago. Since that time, we have only grown closer.

It is a gift to share a history with those we can connect and reconnect with over the course of a lifetime. Is it a wonder why I share a very close friendship with a childhood friend I've known since I have had a memory? A sister-in-law who "adopted" me when my own sisters lived at a distance and were relatively unknown to me at the time? Many of my closest friends are friends who are "missing a sister" and we've forged a sister connection.

I believe the human condition craves and needs connection. We are fortunate when that connection is forged within family. Shared history is a good foundation to build on and we can forge those connections outside the family unit. 

We all have a story we tell. It is a gift to share our stories with each other.

When Words Fail ...

When all else fails, let nature do the talking.

Life distracted me today and I simply never got back to the post I started this morning.

As I settled in front of the TV, birds kept swooping past the patio doors beckoning me to take a step outside and simply marvel at the wonders of the world around me.

I didn't step outside but I did snap a few photos of my backyard entertainment. 

I can't wait for spring!!

The Easy Life

 I woke up this morning, made my bed and a cup of coffee. I opened a few blinds to check on the weather and here I am.

Life is very simple out here at my little weekend oasis. A place where I can shed all my labels and the only one that sticks is "sister". I am still all the other things but here? I feel light and easy.

Monday to Friday is committed. Where would I be without those commitments? Broke, for sure. I do appreciate the structure long time employment offers. As I vacuumed the relentless cat hair at home yesterday morning, I didn't feel so appreciative. Thank goodness it was Friday.

I have been working hard within that little home office of mine. Yesterday, I answered and dealt with the calls that came in. I went through my morning routine and checked everything that needed to be checked. Then? I coasted.

I haven't coasted for a good, long time and it felt pretty good. I was guiltily sitting in front of the TV watching Grey's Anatomy in the middle of the afternoon when my daughter walked in and sat down. She needed to talk more than I realized at the time. I'm so glad I wasn't sitting in my office when she approached me. She deserved my full attention.

Then I received a deep and thought provoking text from my brother. It was a group text and I am the only one of four siblings who doesn't have an Iphone, so I rarely take part in the conversation. But it was a comfort to hear the identifying notification sounds of my brother and two sisters conversing back and forth as they offered their perspective on a pivotal day (40 years ago) in our lives. One day, four different vantage points. 

My day hit a crescendo by four forces of life coming together at the same time. The sibling conversation as a backdrop to my daughter doing her taxes for the first time, with the request for guidance and reassurance along the way; packing up for my weekend getaway; and my need to be somewhere at 4:00.

This little dynamic was punctuated with my Second Son's travel updates as he made his way to Mexico. 

The stories within the stories. The same story as told by different people, at different ages/stages and locations as the main event was unfolding. It was a comfort, as I replayed the afternoon in the aftermath of my day, once I arrived safely at my weekend oasis destination.

Oh, to be at home with thoughts of family, siblings and the ease of the day set before me with little or no distraction. It is a good life out here at my little oasis.

I'm so glad I'm already here ... this is my favorite place to wake up on a weekend.

Human vs Cat

In the long standing war between me and our determined little black cat, Jet finally figured out the answer to his dilemma which has been deterring him from sleeping under my covers.

Long story short, I have resorted to putting a flat sheet over my comforter during the day, which I de-hair and remove every night in an attempt to minimize the cat hair I sleep in. 

Jet soon discovered he could still sneak under my quilt by entering via the side of the bed:

This way ...

Or this would do.

I remedied that by tucking the sheet under the mattress on the side of the bed where Jet made his entrance. This worked like a charm for months on end. I was highly amused that Jet didn't figure out there was a second entry point available. The sheet was tucked into one side of the bed and there was easy access on the other side. The cats slept blissfully unaware on top of the sheet and I felt pretty pleased that I had outwitted our highly intelligent cat. I didn't even speak my thoughts aloud because I have a sneaking suspicion Jet understands English.

Then it finally happened. I walked into my room yesterday to discover this:

Isn't he cute???

So ... I flipped the sheet so I could tuck in both sides of the bed this morning. I've outwitted Jet once again. 

Until next time ...

On the Other Side

I have made it through what I anticipated would be the hardest day of the week. One hurdle met with a gusto and I was energized on the other side. Another hurdle was easier than anticipated. Hard. But done. Done is good. The third hurdle wasn't one I was anticipating. Those are the ones that can catch us. The unexpected.

As challenging as my day felt, the key players in the other side of this story are the ones who are the heros. For me, it was a day. More specifically, it was hours. For them, it is their life.

A life they didn't ask for or expect. A life that continues to evolve and the hurdles just keep coming. The landscape keeps changing and they are losing control of a life they lived fully.

To open your eyes and wake up to a brand new day feeling like you know what you may expect is a gift. Even if what you expect isn't something that excites you, there is something to be said for even a slightly unremarkable life.

Today, I shall simply appreciate what I often take for granted.

Health - a body and brain that continues to work as expected

Home - shelter from the storms of life and everything within it (even the cat hair)

Happiness - simply content with the life I have and those who play a vital part within it

Independence - the ability to work, pay the bills and live this life as I know it

Yes, life has its moments that challenge us.

When the moment is not a lifetime, we are fortunate.

When we wish a moment we are in would last forever, we are rich.

Even within the hours I found challenging yesterday, 

I found moments that evoked a smile or small chuckle I shared with those in my company.

For that moment,

all was well in the world.

I Can't Wait to Wake up Tomorrow

I cannot wait to be on the other side of today. Today will be filled with all the things that feel the hardest. Are these things really that hard or have I ramped up the volume on the agenda I have set before me?

There are so many deadlines to meet within my bookkeeping world. Every time I flip the calendar page, I'm faced with a new set of challenges. I suppose I should be grateful for both the change and the routine. I have done this before. I will do it again. It is familiar. I know how to wade my way through it all.

I woke up in the middle of the night remembering I had forgotten to fill out one section of a multipage document I submitted yesterday. As I was sitting here, I remembered another pending task that will soon be on the list of deadlines-to-meet. 

Then there is the unexpected. The above and beyond. The variety I should be craving in a repetitive job is adding to the stressors instead of relieving them.

I have not had a holiday where I can leave the responsibilities of my home office behind since work moved in with me in March, 2020. 

The weight of it all is feeling heavy. 

I walked into my office in an attempt to take a blurry picture of the chaos behind the door.

Then this caught my eye.

The one and only personal item within the world of paper, bookwork and numbers.

Thanks, Glennon. I needed this reminder today.

Let's just keep going.

Down Another Rabbit Hole

I sat down to write yesterday but fell down a rabbit hole when I couldn't remember a small detail. I fell down a parallel rabbit hole last week. 

I'm writing about things I've written about before so I use the search bar at the top of my blog and start reading what I've written previously. I like what I find and start comparing my current self to my prior self and I'm coming up short. 

Where did all the words go? Why do I not have original thoughts any more? When did I stop finding little morsels of the day to write about? Who am I when I don't write? What am I going to do about this?

When you live a life on the rinse and repeat cycle over and over, without living a life outside the place you call home, the world becomes very small.

When you stop inviting people into your life and find solace in isolation instead of socialization, that small world becomes smaller.

When you tamp down your thoughts with Netflix marathons and potato chips, you start to disappear.

I have become smaller than I can remember being for a very long time. 

Step one was to restart the daily writing habit. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. Step two must take me one step outside the rinse and repeat cycle I'm living so I start noticing the world outside my head and think some new thoughts. 

Focus. One word at a time. One day at a time. One forward step at a time ...

Rabbit holes in the snow - even the rabbits are going no where ...

but that is the intent.

They are burrowing in the snow to find shelter from the weather ...

maybe I'm just burrowing too.

Remember - you are exactly where you are meant to be...

the discomfort is there for a reason.

Be uncomfortable.

Sit in this.

The fork in the road is near.

Recurring Thoughts

When I resigned from column writing, I wrote:

"... I need to write like no one is reading for a while. Some of this unfamiliar territory involves my family, so many of my musings and thoughts are not my story to tell. Most of this will turn into a great lesson one day..."

I had recently handed in my notice to my daycare parents and was taking (another) leap of faith into my future. A future, I didn't realize at the time, that would revolve around three seniors who have taught and continue to teach me life lessons.

Mom - a fiercely independent 88 year old (at the time) who modeled the person I most want to emulate as I move through the years ahead of me. She was a life long learner long before they coined the phrase. She was curious, interested and deeply invested in her family and those within her life.

My bookkeeping boss - still working at age 85, loving what she did and invested in teaching me enough to take over the ropes one day in the distant future. 

My aunt - a gracious, curious and light hearted soul who had lost her husband (my dad's brother) three years prior. She was in the beginning stages of dementia and would need some support systems in place to keep her independent for as long as possible. She graciously accepted the help she was offered and was/is so grateful for her children and all they did/do to support her.

I remember thinking of these widely diverse group of seniors and how I would like to adopt some of the qualities from each of them into the person I was becoming. Six years later? The person I most want to emulate is Mom. Perhaps that is true because she died within the year and memories of her are frozen in time, while my other senior friends have continued on and their story is still being written.

No one can predict the road ahead of us. We can look at our parents, grandparents, our gene pool and make some vague predictions. But we can never know what twists and turns will develop as modern medicine, preventative medicine and the vast sea of the unknowns change over time and impact our future.

I stopped writing before I knew the path I was on. I simply knew all I could think about was Mom and what she was going through. Not my story to tell. She has been gone six and a half years and my thoughts return to her often. Perhaps there is a story there ...

The Wedding

My last born child has been the first of my children to marry. She was married in a bare bones, very simple legal ceremony in our home. It may have been the best wedding I have attended.

A promise, signed and sealed by a representative of our provincial government was made just a little more special due to the closeness of those in attendance. The couple themselves, the marriage commissioner, three in-person guests and three more via a Zoom connection. 

A kiss for luck and they are on their way.

The lyrics to "We've Only Just Begun" run through my mind. It was my wedding song. Simply put, we've only just begun sums it all up.

New horizons, so many roads to choose, talkin' it over just the two of us, so much of life ahead and yes we've just begun.

A new life together has officially begun. Unofficially, their beginning was two years ago. They are as certain as two optimistic, bright eyed and married souls can be. 

They've only just begun.

They Are (still) Here

I woke up without an agenda this morning. All I knew for sure was I didn't want any demands placed upon me upon my waking. I succeeded.

I was awake and out of bed by 5:00 am. "I should grab a cup of coffee and place myself at the computer keyboard and see what happens", I thought to myself.

I made a cup of coffee and turned on the TV instead. Always a bad move. 

Thanks to the relentless swishing of our cat's tail bashing me across the head as I nestled into the couch in my favorite TV watching position, I was alerted to this sight:

I haven't had an actual rabbit-sighting for a good, long while. The evidence they leave behind is all I need. Lots and lots (and lots) of rabbit tracks in the snow. Also a lot of "rabbit fertilizer" underneath the fir tree (where I just happen to leave some grain out for any critter who is looking for a winter supplement). 

I love taking in their unseen presence but I still revel in an actual rabbit sighting. The last two wild critters to cross my path have been red foxes. One fox ran across the highway in front of me as I was driving to my weekend oasis. The second fox ran in front of my aunt's deck and was gone faster than I could get up off the chair and investigate further.

What is the symbolism behind spotting a fox? Without doing a spec of research, my first instinct was to wonder if the presence of foxes had anything to do with the lack of rabbits I have seen.

Thus, I was grateful to spot these rabbits this morning. Evidence suggested rabbits were dominating the landscape but it is always nice to see things with my own two eyes.

TGIF

An unoriginal title for a worn and tired being at the keyboard. I've said it before and I'll say it again (and again and again), I cannot believe I am 62 years old and still living for the weekend.

The weekdays exhaust me. I never catch up within my bookkeeping world and investigating the stories behind the numbers is a never-ending challenge. I am working well beyond my limitations and I feel imprisoned by my role. I wanted only to be a plain and simple "bookkeeper". I have little to no desire to take what I've learned and become anything more. I've hit my peak and I do not aspire to go any higher. I'm done. I am so done.

My senior supper hour partner is losing ground. Conversations that were simply repetitive have taken on a new tone. Words such as hate; ugly; never; can't; won't; no have entered the building and humor has started looking at the door. I realized as I was walking out the door last night, that I have stopped smiling. I will try and try again. This time I will look hard at my own language and sense of humor.

There have been challenges related to work, that go above and beyond all expectations. A stolen wallet set off a chain reaction I'm still battling. Banking transactions that should be black and white are all shades of cloudy. Yesterday I walked in and out of the bank and was able to accomplish my mission without question and ended with a friendly smile from a teller I have come to know fairly well during this time of woe. 

There! That is what I must shift my focus towards. A genuine parting smile and little joke is how I ended my evening with my senior supper partner. A wide grin from my teller and the words, "Done! Is there anything else I can help you with?" I am reclaiming some "white space" within my home office. It is a battle I will never win but I am keeping the enemy at bay.

Now, if only there was a positive spin I could find to manage the relentless shedding of cat hair within this home of ours. I have vacuumed four times in six days and there is no noticeable improvement. When life gives you this much cat hair, what can one do but stuff a quilt?

Positive language. A sense of humor. A relentless desire to push beyond the piles of paper to rediscover the table within.

If all else fails, let the magic of a weekend revive your spirit. Happy Friday!!

Easier Said Than Done

I am on Day 2 of my promise to myself, to blog daily. In a nutshell? I'm coming up empty.

I've started two posts but abandoned them. Too much. Not my story to tell. I start out with a nugget of an idea but get lost. I must keep it simple as I attempt to reconnect the brain to fingertip connection that used to surprise and amaze me.

I would sit down in front of the computer and just start typing. The next thing I knew, there were words laid out before me that assembled my freefalling thoughts into paragraphs that made more sense in black and white, than they did within my head. "If ever I am unable to communicate, give me a keyboard and I will probably be able to type out what I cannot say" was my motto at the time.

Oh, how the writer within has fallen. If I was to subconsciously type out what is within my head at this very moment, it may come out as this:  af io e9 ke dls kjshf o8s s    aoaoua sdaosdis

Yes, I have systematically numbed my thoughts for so long my brain to fingertip connection is not functioning. I kept the posts I started. I scribbled down ideas on my "Blog Every Day" note-to-self that is sitting on/by my computer. I will try, try again. But for today, showing up is the best I can do.

I'll try again tomorrow.

March Forward

I woke up to the year 2023 with a 2022 hangover. 2022 was a year that left a bad taste in my mouth. I sat down to write here in the wee hours of January 1st, didn't like what I wrote and never looked back. Now, here I am. Fresh new month, fresher perspective. 

 A blog writer I enjoy made a pact with herself to write every day in February. She too, had gotten out of the regular writing habit which meant I, in return, got out of the reading habit. It was a pure delight to go back and read the posts I had missed. Her musings, perspective, projects and some of the light and easy stuff of life were documented. I sensed the pleasure she rediscovered as she renewed her writing habit. 

What a great idea, was my first thought! February was already half way complete by the time I read this. February is my favorite and least favorite winter month. Favorite - because it speeds by so fast. Least favorite - because it speeds by so fast. In an accounting/bookkeeping world, those two lost days are very noticeable. "I will start in March!", was my second thought.

March. Thirty one days to meet my bookkeeping deadlines. Month-end falls on a Friday, so I have all week to prepare for those final, frenzied days. NO bookkeeping deadlines that are set by all the powers-that-be within my little bookkeeping world. PST, GST, T4's, WCB, and all the other letters of the alphabet have been tamed the past two months. Deadlines met. Employees paid. Bills paid. Revenue Canada is satisfied for the moment.

Let me breathe a long sigh of relief as I revel in the moment of overcoming the toughest two months of the year. Now is my time to set some resolutions hopes for the year ahead. Aspirations, whimsical dreams, a renewal of hope. I shall March forward from here.

Number 1 goal - to write on!