Week Days = Weak Days

My life depletes me.

I feel the constant pull, tug and drag of to-do's; should-do's; must-do's; and want-to-do's at every turn.

I was catapulted into the week at hand with (what felt like) a hundred things pulling and tugging at me the moment I returned from my weekend oasis.

Cats. Cat hair. Cat litter. Cat sneaked under my covers. Again. 

Work. Phone. Work. Email. Work. Texts.

Yard.

I left my weekend oasis fully charged and ready for the week.

Monday depleted me. Tuesday took what was left over.

One deadline will be met today. Six more are looming.

Wednesday used to feel like my "power day". I was back in the swing of things and running on all cylinders. Lately, I feel as if I'm running on all cylinders all the time.

My week days make me weak in the knees.

I'm ready for a holiday.

Here We Go Again

I think I found a piece of myself this past weekend.

I found it while savoring some solitude in my little oasis away from home

I hope I can hold onto whatever this is once I step back into my regularly scheduled life.

I don't want to go home.

I love this little piece of heaven right here on earth.

I'll be back!

I know I have the same easy feeling within my home,

but it is a relief to spend time away from my work that lives with me 

... and all the cat hair.

Oh, the cat hair.

May you find a small piece of heaven somewhere within your day-to-day world.

Firing on All Cylinders

I feel open and receptive to the messages the world has to offer at the moment. My "openness" ebbs and flows with the tidal waves of living and I am always grateful for the moments of clarity that seem to appear when I am able to be still, listen and absorb all at the same time. 

That is exactly where I am in this moment.

As I tuned into CBC television to await Charles' coronation, a podcast by Gavin Crawford called "Let's Not Be Kidding" was advertised. When googling Gavin's name, the first line of his bio states: "If laughter really was the best medicine, Gavin Crawford would have cured his mother of Alzheimer’s disease." (https://www.cbc.ca/listen/cbc-podcasts/1387-let-s-not-be-kidding-with-gavin-crawford

He had me at "hello". Thank you Gavin, for your first hand recollection of oh-so-relatable memories and situations, and also to your co-starring cast of those who are or have walked the path of caring for a loved one with any form of dementia. Adding a dose of humor to a disease that isn't the least bit funny helps make the situation more palatable. Hearing first hand, of those who have walked a mile in these shoes is truly a gift. 

Once I listened to Episode One, I was hooked. I listened to all seven episodes concurrently (and made a few salads while I listened - the most painless cooking I've done in a long time). Thank you, Gavin. Thank you!!

An email from the library, reminding me that my book is due in a few days propelled me straight toward Michelle Obama's book "The Light We Carry" this morning.

I put down Michelle's book last weekend to open Harry's book "Spare" and had forgotten the way Michelle's writing spoke to me. The moment I reopened the book this morning, I was hooked. She had me at "Good morning!". 

The only pitfall to reading Michelle's book is the tangents of thought I get carried away with. Any stories relating to her parents, the way her mom was raised and the way Michelle was mothered had me comparing and contrasting my own personal memories of my own siblings, along with Mom and her siblings. "Life back then didn’t revolve around kids. For the most part they were seen and not heard", Mom said. "It’s more like they were heard of and never seen" her sister added. Which triggered a long list of thoughts and perceptions as I compared Michelle's lens with Mom's ...

It didn't end there. As Michelle continued to write, she continued to ignite memories, thoughts and words that I'd like to sit still with one day. I grabbed a notepad, scribbled down my thoughts and filled two (small) pages. Wow! I may still have some inspiration and words within me after all. Thank you, Michelle. Thank you for helping me find my own light!

 Ping! Ping! Ping! My brain was on fire and I was having a hard time absorbing Michelle's words, so I got up and got some chili simmering in the slow cooker. Wow. Salads AND chili!! "If I cook it, WILL they come?" I wondered as I prepped a few salads to go and a few more to stay. I'm really on fire!!

I cannot wait to finish Michelle's book so I can focus on Harry again. I have an audiobook/library book combo so I'm listening to the first part of his book as I drive, while I fast forwarded to "Part 3" of his physical book. He has a lot to say and I don't want to miss a word. In fact, I'd really like to chat with him in person after the day he had yesterday, at his dad's coronation.

The clock is ticking the morning away and I still have a few things I'd like to get done before the clock strikes twelve. I feel like Cinderella but my clock is chiming at noon instead of midnight. And after all I've been learning about royalty, I'm sure not waiting for Prince Charming's arrival on the scene.

So much to do, so much to think, so much to write. I feel alive!

Thank you, thank you, thank you to those who fired me up and reignited some spark within me that has been starved for oxygen. Thank you!

A World Event; a Family Divided

I have a fascination with the Royal Family so decided to camp out in front of the TV last night and sleep my way through King Charles' coronation.

After Queen Elizabeth died, I watched several documentaries of her life and thought I had a glimmer of an idea what to expect. What I forgot is the running commentary and skip-to-the-highlights reel within said documentaries. 

Watching a coronation unfold in real time, while drifting in and out of sleep is not something I will do again any time soon.

First of all, with all of those robes and wardrobe changes (Charles had as many costume changes as Cher and none of them quite as fascinating), I had a very hard time keeping track of the star of the show. At one groggy point of the ceremony, I saw a balding grey haired man in a robe take a sip out of a golden goblet. I automatically assumed it was the new King. Then he turned around and shared the contents of the goblet with a few more people after giving them (what looked like a chip) what I believe must have been "host" and this was part of a communion (?). 

I have not fact checked one iota of what I'm writing and I was in and out of sleep and various stages of grogginess but it was pretty hard to follow in a dream like state.

Where were William and family? Where was Harry? Where was the rest of the family? Why were they not panning the audience with the cameras to showcase the supporting cast? Why can't I understand anything that is being said? Remember, I was mostly asleep throughout.

When I finally woke up and stayed awake, they were saying the Lord's Prayer. That's a good sign, I thought. That must mean things are winding up. I was wrong. There were a few more hymns, a few more prayers and a blessing to go. All I could think was the Royal Training must begin at a very young age for William and Kate's children to be so well behaved for such a long ceremony.

Throughout the ceremony, I had intertwined the soundtrack of the coronation within a dream I was having. I was sitting with Mom in a huge churchlike place. People everywhere, hymns, people coming and going. The performance went on and on and on. At one point, I looked over at Mom and she had an unlit cigarette in her mouth and she dryly said, "I think I'm going to start smoking again".

I was relieved when the narrative of the commentators came back and I chastised myself for losing a night's sleep over something that will be replayed and rehashed over the next long while (honestly, I didn't lose much sleep - my dream with Mom and me in attendance was much, much longer and more detailed and included cameos of Boris Johnson and Barack Obama - don't ask ... it was a long and complicated dream).

I have been reading and listening to Harry's book "Spare", thus Harry was very much in my thoughts. I haven't finished his book yet but as he recalls his memories, thoughts and feelings as he grew up and beyond, I can only see him as the individual I perceive him to be by his honest recount. Diana was a year and a half younger than me and right from the moment she married Charles, I slipped her shoes on for size and knew I wouldn't want to walk a block in them. To read/listen to her youngest son's first hand narrative of his life and not be a larger part of his father's coronation felt wrong to me. All wrong.

When any belief system or set of rules creates a clear cut "you are in or you are out" chasm in a family, I tend to be suspicious and question the source of the division. The rules the Royal Family must adhere to, all the while, living life under the wide lens camera with a bounty on pictures that create a story that sells papers makes me marvel at the job Queen Elizabeth did for 70 years.

While all the pomp and circumstance was interesting and news worthy, my heart went out to those who were not a part of the Buckingham Palace balcony scenario. I saw a family divided and putting on a good show for the world. 

As Mom once said, "A person never knows what goes on behind closed doors". We will never truly know what it is like to walk in a Royal's shoes and maybe we should be grateful to live our quiet little lives without public scrutiny.

Easy Like Friday Morning

I have been meandering through the morning like it is a weekend. And that's okay.

This week has been peppered with diversion and there are no looming deadlines, payrolls or big tasks to tend. Instead, unexpected things-to-do have cropped up and I jumped right on them so they didn't have time to sit in yet another things-to-be-finished pile. 

"Like ripping off a Band-Aid", I said aloud as I stroked items off my list before the list was written. Yes. That IS the way to tackle the unending requirements of my job and life in general.

I did what had to be done, tackled some yard work and washed a few windows. It is completing the added tasks that have added a little bounce back into my step. The above and beyond.

Going above and beyond was something I felt good about within my past jobs. Making a customer service experience feel as good as one can make it and writing daycare newsletters and blog posts were the things that brought joy into my 9 - 5, Monday to Friday life. 

Going above and beyond has gone out the window lately. Maybe not. Maybe the fact that I am employed by friends and family dilute the extra little things I do (previously referred to as "above and beyond") as simply that which one expects of themselves.

The cost of working for those you know well is the personal involvement that takes a slow and gradual toll. I have been working with aging seniors and been a witness to their slow decline. 

I can feel where Mom was coming from when she spoke of not wanting to be in a community of "old people". We often laughed at our 80+ year old mom refer to others her age as old. She has the last laugh. Aging has less to do with the number of candles on one's birthday cake and everything to do with the internal dialogue and fate one has been handed that defines how one manages those senior years.

Mom saw the writing on my wall when I started working with seniors six years ago. She knew where this road would take me. I'm managing it well enough. But ... but ...

It is taking a toll. I rolled with the punches this week and reveled in the relative ease I felt without must-meet-deadlines. I was revitalized by going a little above and beyond the call of duty. But ... but ...

I'm ready for my weekend one day ahead of schedule.

Thus, I have been coasting through my morning like it is Sunday instead of Friday. I'm just going to go with it. Let us rewrite the song ... "♪ Easy like Friday morning.. ♪"

May your Friday morning feel easy on you ...

The High Cost of Comfort

Well, I did it. I invested in my feet today. The high cost of sandals that will support my feet and orthotics tallied a hefty sum of just under $250.00. 

Wow! For a girl who shops for the best bargains on milk, that is a big investment. On the flip side, a few years of savings on my milk deals may have covered the cost. 

I bought a pair of sandals at the same store 11 years ago (I know because the clerk looked it up for me). I checked my financial records and I believe this pair of sandals cost $187.00. Eleven years of usage amortizes the cost to $17.00/year. Not a bad investment all in all.

My only dilemma was that I wished I could buy two different colors but at that cost, one pair was suffice. 

I came home and immediately tallied up my work expenses I have paid for out of pocket. It turns out I spend money without blinking when it comes to keeping the office up and running. This years office expenses exceed the cost of my comfy shoes and I was reimbursed my costs without question.

I can find a million ways to justify my spending. Savings here, cutbacks there, calculating how much something costs over its lifetime, a little nest egg stashed aside for a rainy day all keep my budget balanced.

Side story with a moral and relevant to "all of the above":

When I was young, in love and about to marry, I asked my husband-to-be why he loved me. I knew the answer was going to be an honest one when he took a minute to respond. After some consideration, he replied, "Because you are good with money".

Fast forward to the trying times during our marriage when money and lack of it was at the root of many of our disagreements. My husband would be asking for money we didn't have to spend on items that were never included in any budgeting figures. I would respond with an attitude that probably went far beyond a simple "no" and his retort would be "Just juggle the books ". 

Back to the reason this memory resurfaced:

I have been juggling my finances for as far as I can remember. In fact, it was one of the reasons my husband cited for loving me. Savings, cutbacks and a little nest egg here and there go a long way over time. 

Long story short? The high cost of comfort is well worth the sacrifices made along the way.

True to my form, the new is almost identical to the old. 

Same, same, same.

If I know what I like, why would I want to try anything else?

Craving Comfort

I am craving comfort these days. Comfortable clothes, comfortable shoes, comfortable temperatures, comfortable pillows ... just plain comfort.

I wore a pair of sandals as I walked from the house to the car; from the car to my destination; back to my car; then home. I wish I had a step counter to count how very few steps I took in my rather ugly and very old orthotic sandals. Not many. As soon as I settled in for the night I wondered why my feet felt "off". The sandals. It had to be the sandals.

My feet have been the least of my worries lately. Ill fitting clothes have me searching online for comfy tops and bottoms that don't pull, bind or restrict. Long story short, I've had no luck. And I honestly don't feel like spending the very little expendable cash I do have left over at the end of my pay cheque on restocking my wardrobe. 

To top things off, I'm in the middle stage of a hair style I'm not comfortable wearing. "It will grow" are the words I've been uttering since I encouraged my hair stylist to go a little shorter. What was I thinking? I have no idea, except it most likely had a lot to do with not wanting to get my hair cut again any time soon. Mission accomplished. 

It is truly no wonder why I have zero to no inclination to leave the house. I am not out to impress anyone but I simply want to feel comfortable in my own skin (yes, that feels a little tight as well). 

I know I must be more conscious about what I eat. This ill-at-ease feeling centers in my stomach and what I've been feeding it. The comfort I get from nibbling on those crisp, salty, greasy little nuggets of former potatoes feel like a nice, warm hug at the end of my day.

I don't crave chips on the weekend. It is my work week that has me running for consolation at the end of my days. It has nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with comfort.

Something has to change and I think that something is me. Finding comfort in my days without finding that comfort in food is food for thought.

Easing Into May

Never have I been happier to flip over into a clean and empty calendar page than I have been lately. Calendar notations, appointments, Revenue Canada deadlines, what-to-do, what-has-been-done ... all of it. I simply love an empty canvas to recreate the feeling of beginning again.

May. Just the sound of it "may" ... it has the feel of a polite month. May I please ask you this one favor. May we fill some dates with fun activities? Maybe we can work in some outside spring clean-up. May flowers. Mother, may I?

I worked in the first round of yard clean up after returning home from my second job (on Monday, May 1st - great start to a new month, right?). Thanks to the extended daylight hours and fine weather, this arrangement set me up for success. I had an hour at my disposal and I made a game of it. I wonder how much I can do in an hour ...

Fueled by adrenaline, I pushed the deadline and came inside in need of a shower. Ahhh! A productive evening. A shower to mark the end of the day. 

I was so pumped that I didn't even need to eat to stay awake. It was a marvelous feeling. Unfortunately I ate anyway. The habit is engrained deeply into my being. That is on me.

"I should do this every night!" was my immediate thought. If I don't do something productive, I could go for a walk. I was already feeling my resolve faltering before I left for my second job yesterday afternoon, so I started vacuuming and left the vacuum cleaner in a place where I would literally trip over it before I sat down in front of the TV and lost myself to old habits.

I vacuumed the small bit of vacuuming that was left and immediately climbed into my pj's and resumed my position in front of the TV. Once again, I didn't need to eat to stay awake so I enjoyed the sensation for as long as it lasted until I craved the sensation of the crunch and saltiness of a good bag of chips.

Houston, I think we have a problem. And the problem is me.

May I please be excused?