Flitting Thoughts

So many thoughts,

so little time to flesh them out.

It seems only appropriate I illustrate this rather wordless post with my feathered backyard friends:

A grackle swooped in for a close up ... look at his evil eye.

Oh, the stories I could concoct.

Meanwhile, look at these little lovebirds.

Ahhh ... I do love my mourning doves.

The robins didn't drop in for a close up. 

I waited. Honestly, I did.

Not today...

Music to My Ears

The inclination to turn on the TV and lose yet another day loomed heavy over me yesterday morning. I overruled what I most wanted to do and turned on the radio instead. 

Radio. An assortment of music I had no control over. Music that spanned over the years and subconsciously took me back to moments in time long forgotten. I even found myself singing a little bit.

I thought thoughts I hadn't thought for a very long time. Wistful little memories I could barely hold onto. Thoughts of someone I hadn't spoken to for a very long time. 

I puttered in the kitchen doing baking/cooking/prepping kinds of things for hours on end. I had no burning desire to leave the kitchen because the other items on my perpetual to-do-list were less intriguing. 

Music kept me motivated, kept my spirits light and breezy. I didn't dance. But I did sing. It's a step in the right direction.

My future self will be very pleased:

Treats, sweets, meals and veggies prepped to make life simpler.

And it didn't hurt a bit.

Rain

I fell asleep to the sound of (what I believe was) a nest of baby grackles in the tree outside my bedroom window. I woke up to the sound of rain. 

Rain. Music to my ears. I quietly wished for and envisioned a long, soaking rain on the wildfires. Please let the wind blow these rain clouds where they are needed the most.

I wrote my morning pages while looking out the window and listening to the rain. Next to the sound of a purring cat, there is nothing quite like listening to rain to lower one's feelings of angst. 

The rain slowed, then eventually stopped. Two birds hopped on the fence within my view. They simply sat there and enjoyed the view. They had the body language of mourning doves. 

In my limited experience, grackles swoop, dive and don't light in one spot for long. 

Robins walk around a lot. I love watching robins running around. They are always on the move. The robins who hang around here seem to spend a lot of time walking and their flights seem short. 

Mourning doves seem to spend a lot of time in one spot, watchful of what's around them but rather sedative in their movements compared to their counterparts who frequent my yard. 

One morning I was taking out the compost and the presence of two mourning doves just on the other side of the fence, a few feet from where I stood, captured my interest. Opening and shutting the lid of the compost didn't deter them. They stayed on their side of the fence, I stayed on mine. I'm sure they were aware of my presence but they lingered, even when I moved around a bit. I would have loved to have found a spiritual story to explain their presence but I decided it was more likely I was close to a nest and they were on guard for any danger.

This morning, a mourning dove caught my attention as it hung out near a puddle left by the rain. 

I watched it for a while (mourning doves can be pretty boring as they really don't do much) and eventually it flew onto the fence. I followed the movement and found a flurry of activity going on:

I don't profess to know a lot about birds, but it is my guess there could be another nest of mourning dove babies in the near future.

Just some quiet, morning thoughts to start the day. May you find a piece of serenity within your day today.

Lost Days

I wasted a day. Though I could pinpoint a handful of meaningful things I did with the day yesterday, I allowed most of the day to slip through my fingertips like water. 

I woke up this morning to find the door unlocked and the dehumidifier running in the basement. On one hand, I didn't have any unexpected company drop in and the basement isn't as humid as I thought it was as the water did not reach the maximum shut-off level. On the other hand, where was my head?

The luxury of my Daybed Room with a TV, canister of chips and ready access to everything I need is I can wander upstairs and not bother coming back downstairs to lock up at the end of the day.

My new ROKU TV has a Little House on the Prairie channel. It runs absolutely nothing by Little House, 24/7.  That series takes me back to a simpler time - both the time period it depicts, the age I was when it first aired and a time when I watched reruns before I went to work. It is a show that simply lowers ones stress levels, blood pressure and (unfortunately) ambition levels.

I have this niggling thought in the back of my mind that I could/should/may end up working more than four days a week. Between summer holidays, changes at work and what is best for the office, I am almost certain I could work five days a week while I long for a three day work week.

The thought of giving up that bonus day contributed to my state of mind yesterday. Mostly? I blame the TV. Days when I turn on the TV first thing in the morning usually end up being lost days.

This weekend? If I do nothing more than keep the TV off until after supper it will be enough.

Thoughtless Thursday

It is almost 11:00 am on my most treasured day of the week. A weekday I get to stay home. What in the world have I done with my time so far?

I have not a lot to show for my day. Yet. I have played around with my financial spreadsheet and analyzed my spending, past and future. I have made a call to Revenue Canada to confirm a few things. I have caught up on Sullivan's Crossing and eaten the better part of a bag of chips.

Where does one go from here?

I was hoping for a semi-productive puttering kind of day. I would like to lose myself to fine tuning the "stuff" within my Daybed Room. I'd like to declutter the basement. I may pull some weeds.

Words feel sparse, ambition even less so. Thoughts of where things will go from here waft lightly through my head. 

Oh, Thursday, where have you gone. And where are you going? I may just fall down a few rabbit holes...

How To Make Hummingbird ENDLESS Water Fountain

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHd_9D_6x6o&ab_channel=RobbieandGaryGardeningEasy

Displaced

Minutes before the end of my workday yesterday, three people walked into the office looking for information about the location of an evacuee centre in our community.

Two of the three had been evacuated from their home a week ago and the last update they heard, the wildfire was one kilometer away from their home. They were with someone they knew from our town but looking for alternative accommodations as the unknowns continue to mount.

One can only imagine what it feels like to flee your home, not knowing if it will be standing when you return. A devastating situation.

I wonder about the wildlife, hoping their natural instincts tell them what they need to know. 

As I walked home, I considered the idea of a situation which would place untold numbers of people looking for a "port in the storm". What if my community was called upon to open their homes temporarily?

I thought of my simple little life which includes a home, spare sleeping quarters, some back up supplies and thought of how quickly one would go through their supplies if there were five people to house.

At this moment, I am one of the lucky ones. Fortunate enough to consider how I could come to the aid of someone in need. 

Life can change in a New York Minute. What if I was one of those people wandering into a place of business looking for shelter in an unthinkable time?

My cousin, spouse and three young children lost everything in a wildfire five years ago. It could happen to anyone. And does.

I hear Smokey the Bear's voice saying, "Only you can prevent forest fires". Human-kind, we are our own worst enemies. To think of the origins of any one of these fires. I don't know the answer to how these raging fires began. I fear humans are not without blame.

Stay safe out there.

Memory Games

Hand writing three, 8 1/2" x 11" morning pages on a daily basis has been an interesting exercise in exorcising my morning meanderings.

I have written almost 400 pages and my desire to go back and reread any of them is nil. The most I may do before I shred them is scan the margins to see how many of the tasks I've written down have been left unattended.

One purpose of these pages is to reveal one's inner creative self. I think I may have used up my creativity years ago, as my pages haven't revealed much beyond the fact that I find my thoughts pretty tedious and boring.

Recently, when the words aren't coming, I have been trying to recall events of my life. Years, dates, events and so on. This morning's thoughts began with wondering how much I remember before I started blogging.

I started listing the people I worked with when I moved here in 1988, names of a group of co-workers from 1990. Then, the sequence of events one life altering day in 2023. Recalling one event led to another, another and another. I used no resource other than my own head, assisted with the ability to write things down as I recalled them. 

These are the games Mom used to play. Testing her memory without assistance of any kind. If she couldn't sleep, she would think of poems from her childhood and a myriad of things to hone her memory skills. I am convinced this mental gymnastics contributed to her sharp thinking and overall brain health. Her memory, combined with her curiosity and desire to learn are tools I think are good for all of us.

As I came up with memories I thought I had forgotten, I even made a comment to Mom in my morning pages. I thought she may be pleased I was taking a page from her book.

Now, I have to hone the skill of hanging onto those memories without writing them down. Mental math is a skill I've lost. 

I'll keep playing my memory games and hope for the best. 

A Guest Room I Don't Want to Share

They say you should sleep in your guest room to ensure it is comfortable and your guests have what they need to enjoy their stay. Well? I've gone a step beyond that.

Even before "my room" was my bedroom, I commented it was the perfect guest room. It has an en-suite bathroom, queen sized bed and the room is cozy and a comfortable size. A guest could get up any time they wished and have everything they need to extend their time alone before needing to be social. Plus, they wouldn't have to go down the not-to-code stairs if they needed the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Let the record show I already knew my room was the best guest bedroom.

Then I moved into my room and the guest bedroom became a pet project of mine. I knew a daybed would be ideal for that room because the air register is by the wall, under the bed. And I found the daybed of my dreams:

Then the writing desk of course. I cannot say enough about my writing desk by the window but I will try.

I was searching for just the right kind of cabinet which would mostly serve the purpose of holding stationary, writing and office supplies but could double as a dresser if required. Plus, I wanted another smaller cabinet for the closet. Due to the fact this cozy little room is carpeted, I was looking for furniture on wheels. 

Closet cabinet

Then came the pièce de ré·sis·tance. The final touch.

After a great deal of thought, research and test runs, I decided a TV for this cozy little spot would be my little treat. A place to watch TV at night, when my sensitive neck cannot relax on my comfy-looking-couch in the living room. 

While the living room windows were under construction, I moved the TV up into this cozy little room and I loved, loved, loved ending my days in this most-comfortable-spot steps away from my bedroom. A little TV watching and I'm literally 12 steps from my bed. Twelve steps on the same level. Not 13 steps up, then 10 steps to the right. Twelve steps.

 

I brought home my new TV yesterday afternoon and couldn't wait to set it up. It is the perfect size, perfect fit and perfect-for-me ROKU TV with access to more channels than I'll ever need:

A small fridge and microwave and this room would have everything I need.

I have created a guest room so cozy, comfortable and ideal that I don't want to share it. I'm just glad I already proclaimed my bedroom as the ideal guest room. So I guess that makes everyone happy.

Dad

The gift of living near and visiting a sibling regularly is sharing the same core memories. It is common for us to find a thread of Mom woven throughout our conversations. We have a lot of "Mom" in us, she lived for 89 years and though it has been close to eight years since she died, thoughts and memories still feel fresh.

Dad, on the other hand, was young when we last had the dad we knew. His massive heart attack, days before his 58th birthday, was the end of Dad living his life. We had fewer years to collect Dad memories and it has been 42 years since that fateful day. 

So when a "Dad memory" arises, it touches a part of me that hasn't been touched for a while. It feels rather special.

When my son built a shed for me and I commented I couldn't wait to roll my tires into their seasonal storage spot and not have to stack them, it stopped him in his tracks for a minute. He quickly commented he'd build something for tire storage, since the walls of the aluminum shed wouldn't withstand the weight. He came up with this:

It was made completely out of leftover wood that was lying around. It cost nothing but his time. It was a very "Dad" thing of him to do. When I showed this shelving unit to my sister, she immediately commented, "This is Dad. This is something Dad would make." Yes. Yes, it was.

Cool little memory to store inside the shed along with the tires and other miscellanea.

Yesterday, I was commenting on my ability to hang a picture. Except when I looked at the back of the picture I wanted to hang, it was missing the picture wire. Two loops to string it into, but no wire. When I mentioned this to my sister, she perked up and said she had some.

She ran downstairs and came up with her picture wire storage container:

"Dad!" I exclaimed. That is Dad's, right? Yes. Yes it was. 

Dad used tobacco tins to store nuts, bolts, screws and many numbers of things in the garage. Seeing that tobacco tin was an immediate callback to my memory of Dad. No, rolling cigarettes is quite possibly the last thing he may want to be remembered by, but the tins. The resourcefulness of not letting anything go to waste. "That" was Dad.

I wistfully asked my sister if she minded leaving that tin to me in her will. Just a little thing. I loved the way I felt when suddenly I felt the memory of Dad wash through me. She said she could do one better. She ran downstairs and found its twin. Now we each have a little memory of Dad in our storage collections.

Dad. I love being reminded of you. Your essence. Your work ethic. Who you were. I love when a brand new, never-been-recently-recalled memory flashes through my mind. Most of all, I cherish having a sibling who shares that exact same memory of who you were and the ways which we still see you in your children and grandchildren.

Rabbit Holes

I love the ability to check out my shopping options all from the comfort of home.

I have fallen down a rabbit hole this morning, as I have decided I definitely want a small TV for my "Daybed Room". I think I have it narrowed down after checking availability, reviews and best value for my needs.

Then comes my ongoing saga with chemical sprayers. It can't be every sprayer I touch. But it is. I must consider the common denominator. Me. What am I doing wrong? I will try, try again with my existing sprayers before investing in one more ...

Customer reviews are my best friend. When a quarter of the reviews are one star and fifty percent are five star, what does one glean from this perspective? I'm trying to educate myself on ensuring I have the right sprayer for the job and I'm operating/cleaning it properly. I am considering the option of embracing the idea of a weed filled yard.

Then there are the comfy looking capris that popped up on one of my feeds somewhere. I would like to see that modeled by an over 60 year old, filled out, saggy, bulky female model please. I fell prey to an online clothing store that featured moderately plus-sized clothes modeled on a young, taut and fit body. Fool me twice? Shame on me.

Then there are the mattress toppers, offering relief to achy body parts. The initial price looks expensive enough, but exchange that twin-sized pricing for queen and ooo-la-la! Sobering thought. Advil is a cheaper option.

After falling down all-of-the-above rabbit holes over the course of the past 2-1/2 hours, I think I've landed on a TV I want and will trouble shoot my existing weed sprayers before investing in another.

Now ... do I make a special trip into the city for my favored television set or wait until I'm going anyway? That is the million dollar (actually $168 + tax) question.

I may not fall victim to scrolling social media, but this darn internet window shopping certain grabs a lot of my time. On the other hand, in the end, I think I make wiser choices.

Who knows? It's free to look and I love the ability to wander through a variety of different stores without leaving my kitchen table.

Keeping Cool

This morning, as I stepped into the safe little cocoon that is my life, my first thoughts of the day were gratitude for our cool evenings after hot days. I haven't found the need to turn on the air conditioner yet, thanks to our cool evenings accompanied by a light breeze. I am even more grateful to know I have cool air available at the flick of a switch. Life is good.

I then wandered downstairs and checked the forecast. As I did so, my attention focused on news flashes of the forest fires raging and thousands of evacuees fleeing for safety, with the possible threat of losing their home. It put my world's view into perspective.

Our lives may feel challenging and they are. But in the big picture, when I look at my landscape I feel pretty darned lucky.

As I walk through my day and wonder if there is a practical use for (what feels like) an infinite supply of pinecones, I will remind myself of how fortunate I am to have space to wonder about such a trivial issue.

One morning of picking pinecones out of the rocks netted about 1/3 full trash can's worth of 

"mulch and pest deterrent" material.

I've said it before and I will keep saying it.

My life is good.

The Fifth Day

This time, tomorrow morning I will be walking to work. 

Today? I have the day off. 

I'm very fortunate to have a job. 

Two jobs that provide enough income for me to live comfortably by working four days a week.

I love that fifth day. 

A day off. 

Ahhhhh.

Life is good.

A Work in Progress

I just finished watching the series Private Practice. I remember thoroughly enjoying the writing, characters and story lines when the series aired on TV. I enjoyed it just as much the second time around. They wound up the series in a manner which makes me want to watch it all over again. 

There is a line in the final season that hit home with me:

"The book that is your life is a work in progress. So you, Violet Turner, you're unfinished." ~ Sam Bennett to Violet Turner

I have felt "finished" with life in ebbs and flows since Mom died. It comes, it goes. It mostly goes. But when I sit in the quiet of this life I have written, I think "I am out of story lines". 

When I think of a work in progress, I think of my home. I don't think of myself or my life. Perhaps I should ...

There's No Place Like Home

This little house I live in feels more like home with each passing day. 

I am beyond fortunate that my son has carved out time to tend to my spring wish list. It sounded "simple" - replace the living room and bedroom windows and construct a shed. Easy peasy. Right?

Not when you have a mom who keeps adding to the list and a son who tweaks things to a level of perfection I thoroughly appreciate before he calls the job done. Nor when throughout the course of our last meal together, a couple handfuls of future wishes slipped out during conversation.

Whoops.

My favorite room in the house is near completion. I need to clear out the excess, with a few little tweaks here and there. It's so close.

I started dreaming my little dream as last winter was starting to settle in. I had a vision that centered around Mom's picture of pussy willows and my desire to have a writing desk by the window. Bit by bit, this little dream of mine is coming true.

I knew this room was working some special kind of magic within me but I didn't  realize how much. Yesterday morning, I didn't want to sacrifice my writing-by-the-window time after I set my morning routine off kilter by an hour. I tried to skip over the process and fast forward to the next item on my morning agenda but it didn't work.

This little room brings me such serenity and a peaceful sense of joyfulness. It's my favorite room in my home, filled with so many other spaces which speak to me. 

“If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with… There's no place like home.”

~ Wizard of Oz

Morning Diversions

I messed with my usual routine this morning. I took advantage of the lack of wind in the early morning hours to spray weeds. That small onerous task threw me off my groove.

I fought with the weed sprayer but got the job done-enough. I don't know if the weed sprayer won the battle or if I did. I think it was a draw. 

I came inside, determined to scrub the chemicals off my hands when I caught sight of my freshly washed hair in the mirror. The morning humidity added a frizz and kink to my previously good-enough hair. Rats! "This!!" is why I don't walk in the morning.

An hour had been lost so I thought I'd skip my morning pages and go straight to blogging. I had reverted yesterday morning's blog to a draft because it needed some editing. I thought it would be a quick and easy post. Nope. Yesterday's thoughts were too complicated.

I needed to hand-write my three, 8-1/2" X 11" morning pages to filter the verbiage of the day-in-progress. I'm glad I did. I'm still no great shakes in the word department but my fingers are flying over the keyboard and I feel like I used to feel when I wrote. Energized and a little inspired.

Changing one part of my morning routine woke something up inside of me. Today. Being outside first thing in the morning is a good thing. Maybe that is worth considering.

The very first thing I did upon waking was open the upstairs hallway window. At the precise moment I opened the window, a mourning dove flew up and sat on the roof right beside the window. It stayed there until I ruined the moment and tried to take its picture:

Mourning dove wing in flight

It flew to the garage roof top to avoid a close up

Lesson #1 - stop and enjoy the moment before jumping straight into the day

Lesson #2 - don't waste the moment by taking a picture 

Powerless

This morning, the power went off unexpectedly just before 7:00 am. I was in the midst of planning to charge my phone, using up the laptop's battery power before plugging it in when the power waned and waiting for the furnace to kick in at 7:00 am, to take the chill out of the air. 

Then poof! The house was silent. Blissfully silent.

The dehumidifier I had running in the basement? Silence. The bathroom fan? Silent. Nothing. That is when I looked up to discover the clock on the stove was blank. The power was out.

Our power company sent a vague message saying they were looking into the reason behind the outage and crews were on the job, looking after the situation.

When after an hour, the power was still out, I started running through worst case scenarios. My phone could be charged in the car. If I didn't open the fridge door unnecessarily, the fridge/freezer would remain cold for as long as possible. 

Meanwhile, I was honing in on comparing a power outage to an all-out-communication outage. We have had a few recent outages that affected phones, internet, cable and cell phones. While I felt completely alone in my inability to reach out or be reached in any fashion, I uttered aloud, "At least we still have power. At least we still have power".

It was bright outside and the need for powered lighting was almost nil. Leave the bathroom door open and all is well. Water was functioning, I could have a bath, use the "facilities" and receive messages from the outside world.

All was well enough.

I opened my latest (and last) assembly-required cabinet for the closet in the Daybed Room, ensured all the parts and pieces were there and went about my day like I didn't need power.

The power was restored after an hour and a half. Just a blip in time. Life went on seamlessly without the assistance of a power source. I received a few messages from the outside world during the outage. I was not alone.

We are beyond fortunate with all of our conveniences of life. 

Paying a water bill is a privilege. We have have clean, running water and sewer system we completely take that for granted. There are many who do not have this luxury. Even within our own country.

Heat and power are two more luxuries of life we have on tap. Turn on a switch, turn up a thermostat, turn on the air conditioner, charge our various gadgets that keep us feeling connected and enjoy the ease with which we heat, cool and store our food.

Add to that, the various ways we keep our lines of communication open. Much of which is reliant on satellites and wireless connections. 

I miss the days when we all had a hard wired phone that was attached to a wall, not reliant on power or satellite connections. Yes, this could malfunction just as easily if the wire was cut. But there is something grounding in knowing there is a grounded connection.

I appreciate life's little wake up calls. There could be many, who slept right through this moment of powerlessness. Others who may have not had their morning coffee brewed before the the lights went out. 

Me? I simply wished I had charged my phone when I thought of it first thing this morning. Then began counting the many ways in which I was just plain lucky.

When one feels powerless, the best resource we have is to focus on that which we still have power over. Our thoughts, back-up plans and the mere simplicity of having most everything we need at our fingertips. 

Power or no power, I am simply thankful for that which stays the same. With or without the conveniences which make living a life pretty simple.

Thank you.

Back-up-plan #1

A functional and bright battery powered light

(including brand new batteries)

Back-up Plan #2

I'm feeling a little more in control now that I'm 88% charged

(and 21 minutes away from a full charge)

You Missed a Spot

We have a number of cool, dreary, wet days around here lately. I was happy for the reprieve from the demands of the sun but more appreciate of the bit of moisture we had. Not for the reason most people hope for rain, to nourish grass, plants and flowers, but to tamp down the dust-factor when I mow the lawn.

The lawn is so sparse, I am covered with a coat of dirt from head to toe, after mowing up a dust cloud that follows me and the lawnmower as I go. This dirt has to be hard on the lawn mower engine but it is the need for a shower after lawn mowing that is my motivation to find a way to limit the dust factor. 

The recent rain subsided a few days ago and I capitalized on the opportunity to mow before the wet ground turned to dust. Add the coolness of the day to the formula and it was a quick and easy mow. A half hour, from start to finish. That includes filling the gas tank and putting away the lawn mower. 

My kind of yard work. Short and sweet with minimal dust and sweat added to the mix. If it would have been nicer outside, I may have found an excuse to stay out and putter. But it was more about the "race" to me. How quickly could I be back inside and making supper? Lawn mowing barely put a dent in my after-work routine.

It looks like some sun and higher temperatures are in the forecast, just in time for the weekend. As much as I welcome the return of blue skies and sunshine, look at the first thing The Sun had to say to me this morning:

"You missed a spot!"

Taking Care of Your Future Self

I remember a time when my son came over to fix something around the house. He was looking around for (or may have brought) the tools required to do the job, when he found everything he was looking for all together in a spot in the laundry room. "Man, I take good care of my future self" he commented as he appreciated the foresight he had the last time he had tended to this task.

I think of this comment often as I walk through my little life. Taking good care of your future self is a much more optimistic way of looking at the same side of the coin, "Man, I hate always having to do this".

I go back to my training when I became a bank teller. It was highly suggested to always keep your work space tidy and organized. Knowing you always had the supplies you needed and exactly where to find them made life easier. This is a universal way of living life.

I have a back-up supply of the repetitive grocery, household, stationary and most car/garage items on hand. When I'm down to the second last item, it's already on the list so it's always there when I need it. 

I have a morning routine that doesn't change much from day to day. Morning coffee, morning smoothie, second cup of coffee, followed by some actual food item. Each phase of this little routine is followed by washing and putting away said cups/glasses/etc. As I put away each item, it feels like I've accomplished a small feat. Everything is back in its place and ready to go for the next morning.

My second job requires leaving the house an hour earlier in the morning. That lost hour is hard to regain so I do everything in my power to take care of my future self. As tough as it may feel to wash my hair the night before or make that lunch when I know I could squeeze it into the morning, I think of my son's words. I will be grateful for taking care of my future self the next morning when time is slipping through my fingertips.

Meal prep on the weekends; mowing the lawn when it doesn't feel like a convenient time; filling the propane tank when I'm already outside and dusty; any number of chores that feel like drudgery and I get little satisfaction or enjoyment from, I remind myself "Your future self will be grateful".

I know I need to incorporate some regular form of exercise into my routine and I have yet to make a change. The biggest obstacle I face is not wanting to lose any of my precious morning time, nor do I want to get up any earlier. I know my future self will be grateful but my present day self is pretty set in her ways.

It is so much better to frame things in a manner which makes it as easy as possible on yourself. What feels hard at the moment? Would your future self be grateful if you did it anyway? 

It Takes Two Hands to Clap

I remember Mom commenting on the excellent experience she had while in an emergency room during a brief hospital stay. It was a time when many were commenting on the negative experiences at hospitals so Mom was very appreciative of the care she received. She expressed her gratitude to one of her nurses and the nurse simply responded, "It takes two hands to clap". 

A memorable moment, a memorable quote. Mom recalled the moment and I have thought of this quote numerous times since hearing Mom's experience. 

It is a quote which reciprocates the compliment. While Mom had a very good experience on her end and expressed appreciation, the nurse was also a benefactor of Mom being Mom and simply being a patient who made the nurse's experience positive as well.

I was fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the simple comment, "Thank you for being so nice" while I was simply doing my job at work yesterday. I sat up a little taller, smiled and quoted Mom's quote (and cited Mom and Mom's nurse as the source of such wise words). "It takes two hands to clap."

Thank you for being so nice to me as well. 👏👏

It is Almost Done

This is the tax season that just doesn't end. It felt like a long, hard process to wind up the year for a company, file all necessary returns and resign from that position. 

Of course, my resignation came with the caveat "If you need me to file your GST returns, I can be available for that", but other than that I highly recommended the new bookkeeper start from January 1st, to ensure consistency and a fresh start for 2025.

The new bookkeeper has been hired. All they needed was the back-up copy of the accounting program to get started. Easy peasy, I thought. I can just email it. 

No such luck. The file was too big for my email program to manage. I googled how to send a large file and was directed towards "clouds" and other such forums to send such a file. It would have been simplest, to put this file on a flash drive and hand deliver it. Unfortunately this would require both parties driving into the city, find a meeting spot and make the exchange.

If I had any other need to run into the city, this could have been a fun and easy little excursion. As it was, it would have taken three hours out of my day, at least $35.00 worth of gas, plus the cost of the flash drive. The expense of three hours was more than I wanted to bear but adding an additional $50.00 to the total? I hoped to find another way. And I did.

Thankfully, the file was sent electronically, received, opened AND the new bookkeeper was able to access everything she needed and was ready to go.

One crisis averted from the comfort of home.

One final, straggling tax return had yet to be filed. I had completed my work, one final check before it was ready to go, plus the presence of the tax payer. It was all checked, balanced, okayed and sent off. All from the comfort of home.

2024 has been wrapped up with a bow and sent where it needed to be sent. I have three sets of tax papers to return to their rightful owners and the piece of real estate that takes up in my upstairs closet will be free.

To-go pile ↑

The empty space it will create ↑

It is almost done. So long, 2024. 

Then it Rained

As much as I whined about spring and summer's neediness in yesterday's post, 

I forgot about the rain:

Cloudy days and Mondays ...

That would be today.

A day off of outdoor chores.

I guess I can't mow the lawn today after all.

Thank you, Rain.

Sludging Through

It is the weekend. A long weekend, at that. And I'm having a tough time tackling my one-thing, one-step at a time laundry list of to-do, should-do and must-do items on my eternal task list. 

Summer. Days are long, weather is warm and there is NO snow. You gotta love it. Right?

Well? I like it. I really do. But I find Summer to be demanding. Lawn to mow. Weeds to tend. Garbage bins of fallen pinecones. Windows. Car. Everything around here needs a good spring cleaning. Everything. The downside of it all is it never ends. Grass and weeds just keep growing. Pinecones keep on falling. Windows? I love them. I really do. They are just so needy.

Winter. Short days, cold weather and snow. Despite its drawbacks, it's more forgiving in some ways.

It may snow a lot for several days running. But there is always a break. Granted, that break may come with ice, wind, unseasonal melting creating more ice ... but there are reprieves. 

Snow is different than grass (yes, I am a rocket scientist, aren't I?). Snow comes in ebbs and flows. Grass just keeps growing until fall when it takes a bit of a break. Grass always needs something. Snow? Once it's shoveled, it's good (unless there is wind - that is another story).

Those short, dull winter days don't focus on your dirty windows and dusty house. Winter says, "Take a break. Relax. Save your energy for the next snowfall." Summer says, "Go while the going's good. Sun is shining! Take a good look at that dirt and DO something about it."

It is barely past the middle of May and I'm looking at this needy yard that surrounds my home. I like it. I really do. But really? I just washed windows. Now you want me to mow the grass and deal with the excessive pinecones too?

I sludged through yesterday. Slowly (and I mean slowly) but surely, I (eventually) washed all the windows on the main floor. Inside AND out. What gratitude do I get? The sun pokes around a new corner of the earth and says, "You missed a spot!!"

Aaaack! Summer? You are so demanding. I'm still glad you are here.

Colliding Worlds

All my nicely compartmentalized little worlds collided a few days ago. I'm rolling just fine with the resulting aftermath. Having a solid home-base to ground me makes all the difference in the world.

I must find a way to wind up my bookkeeping job in a manner which appeases my desire to keep things out of "clouds" as much as it consoles my preference to find a way to do what I can from home. What needs to be done will be done and when it's done, my commitment to my bookkeeping job will be 100% complete. I'm keeping my eyes on the prize. It will be done.

While making a brief pit stop at my other home away from home, I noticed the furnace fan racing. After a few checks, balances and inquiries, I turned off the breaker to the furnace and called the phone number left behind by a company who had serviced the furnace in the past. An appointment was arranged for the next morning and I left it in my daughter's capable hands. 

Yesterday, as I was dealing with my shortened morning hours, due to the fact I was working at the job where I leave the house an hour earlier than usual, all these dynamics were coming at me as I was contending to the obligation of showing up for work. Meanwhile, my home was looking a little like a construction zone as the living room window project was in its final stages.

An early morning email suggested an option to hand deliver this bookkeeping file after work. My instinct was to just say "yes" to a very inconvenient meeting. I would have had to pick up a flash drive as I walked home from work, travel for three hours of and miss the possibility of touching base with my son as the window project was drawing to a close. 

Wait a moment. I didn't have to decide in that moment and completely upend my day. I decided to have a bath and let things sink in. "I have been trying to find a way to make this work as I prepare to run out the door to go to work and I just don't think tonight will work for me", was my final answer. 

It's a long weekend and no one needs to be in a panic about this transfer of information immediately. Least of all? Me. 

Then came the furnace/air conditioner situation. The diagnosis? A new air conditioner unit. Thankfully a split second decision didn't have to be made. We'll sit on that for a moment and see what options are available.

Pause. Just pause. 

Due to the fact I was wise enough to simply take a breath before leaping a decision that would have ruined my day, I came home to find my son almost ready to paint the new window-wall.

We chatted easily while I watched him paint (terrible of me, I know) and he made the comment the house would be ready for my sister's inspection visit this weekend. When he found out I was going to be on my own, he offered (or did I ask?) to move the couch and carpet back to where it was before this all started. I rearranged the remaining furnishings last night, puttered a little bit this morning and here is the end result:

All that's left is to wash the windows, hang the new blinds and re-side the front of the house. The inside renos are complete. 

When the outside world is impacting your peace of mind, it's comforting to have a soft place to land. A place that grounds you.

When I felt all my worlds colliding, all was well within my world when I settled in at the end of the day. There's no place like home.

Living Small

I wouldn't want to live in a house any bigger than the one I already inhabit. It is a smaller sized house, made larger by enclosing what used to be the porch and turning it into my present day living room. 

The living room has become a construction zone during the installation of new windows so I'm living in what used to be the living room/kitchen combination. If this was a permanent situation, I'd make some adjustments but even with my current furniture, I can imagine how it may have been before.

Before, there wouldn't have been a kitchen island. Remove that, replace it with a small kitchen table and that frees up a lot of space. There would have been no need for the microwave cupboard in the "before", so remove that and there would be ample room. Even for my present day couch. The patio doors wouldn't have existed. That would open up even more wall space. The temporary plastic barrier would have been a wall with windows and a door. Outside that door would have been a porch. 

I can see it more clearly, now that I'm living in the original footprint of the house. 

As much as I adore this little home, I do wish it had a main floor bedroom. Since the living room is presently out of commission, I can envision and wonder just how "small" I could live. Could the living room be converted to a bedroom? Could I live this small all the time?

Thoughts to ponder ...

Manifesting

I was listening to Chris Sullivan (Toby - from "This is Us") speak on his experience with writing Morning Pages, as he went through the 12 week process with the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. His morning pages led him to listening to his inner voice which, a step at a time, led him to "This is Us" and his present day life.

As I struggled through my own Morning Pages this morning, they consisted of little more than to-do-lists and a list of things I wanted to remember. I write lists on the margins of my pages and flip back to those pages to check my progress.

Lately, my thoughts have been consumed with the hopes and dreams I wrote about within those Morning Pages throughout the winter. I wished for little more than a shed, new bedroom/living room windows and a solar powered bird bath.

One by one, my wishes are coming true. Does it count if it is my son who is manifesting these dreams on my behalf? I'm not quite sure...

Here are pictures of yesterday's manifestation process:

Noon

↑ Supper time↓

I don't know whether to thank Julia Cameron and her Morning Pages ritual? Or my son? 

My son gets all the credit for this.

Thank you for manifesting my dreams for me!

Before

I'm living in a bit of a construction zone at the moment:

New living room windows are on the docket for today...

This is the "before" (but after my new bedroom window):

Things will look much different around here after today.

I'm Seeing the Leaves

A comment from my aunt while collecting family memories has stuck with me. She desperately needed glasses as a child. Money was scarce during the Depression so it took time before she got her first pair of glasses. She commented, "It was like “opening a door and going into heaven … I could see. Everything wasn’t a blur." She saw the individual leaves on the trees.

A year ago, everything was a blur to me. Walking into a new town, new life, new jobs and new everything was overwhelming. Everything and everyone was new. I may recognize a face but I couldn't place which job, which circumstance or how I had met this person. New. New. New. It was a very blurry year.

Specific conversations would feel general to me because I didn't know the background, location or circumstances. I was walking home from work one day when I finally started to "see the leaves".  I don't remember what it was but suddenly it was like someone pulled the hair out of my eyes. 

I connected the dots and marveled at the realization I was finally seeing the light because EVERYTHING wasn't new. I was able to the leaves on the trees.

I thought of my aunt and appreciated the clarity of my new life finally feel like it's all coming together. One leaf at a time.

Nature's Alarm Clock (and snooze buttons)

Ever since I moved back into my bedroom, with its new window (and screen!), I have been sleeping with my window open. Oh, how I have missed the fresh air and sounds of nature.

Deep in the middle of one night, I thought I heard the sound of something wild howling off in the distance. It didn't sound like a domesticated dog. It sounded wild. It didn't last for long and it was in the middle of the night so I may have dreamed it. But we do have coyotes in our neck of the woods. It may have been coyotes.

As the morning progressed, the robins were out in full force. Man! They are vocal. If they were dogs, the neighbors would be complaining. But they are robins and they are simply singing their songs and the lines of communication are open. I love waking up to the robin's songs.

Next, came the mourning doves. Off in the distance, their mournful cries are beautiful yet sad when one compares them to the joyful robins. 

I stayed in bed a little longer and in chimed the grackles. Their name describes their voices. A rather grating sound. It signifies a very good time to get out of bed and start the day.

Nature's alarm clock: 

Robins sing, "Rise and shine!! The day awaits!!" 

The mourning doves coo, "I know it's hard. But do get up and face the day." 

Then the grackles come and say, "Get up and get out of bed. I'll keep grackling at you until you do!"

Rise and shine! The day awaits!!

Mindful Mother's Day

Mother's Day snuck up on me this year. I don't listen to the radio, I don't watch commercial TV and my shopping consists of running to the grocery store. Thus, I have not heard or seen one Mother's Day ad to prompt me into remembering this Hallmark Holiday.

It is one day that mattered to Mom. Birthdays? Christmas? Those were days she focused on others. The giving side. Mother's Day? It was a day to shine a light on who she was.

I sifted through the Mother's Day cards I gave her this morning. She wasn't your typical mother so shopping for the perfect card took effort. Some years I succeeded. Others? Not as much.

Mother's Day is Mom's day. When I am reminded of it, I am reminded of Mom. 

I think of you often, Mom. I speak your name, I hear your words come out of my mouth and I feel you within me a lot of the time.

I don't need Mother's Day to remind me of who you were to me. I know the day mattered to you, so in your honor, I am focusing my thoughts on you today.

Memories on Mother's Day

I wrote this twelve years ago. We had Mom for four more Mother's Days. I read these words today and they are true as they were the day they were written:

Saturday, May 11, 2013

To Mothers Everywhere ... "Happy Mother's Day"

I'm having a little bit of Mother's Day Anxiety. I do a better job at living up to this occasion when I am not 'on location'. Writing a letter to tell Mom that I think she is pretty special? Easy! Sending a card to mark the occasion? Hallmark, you've made a few dollars off of my ability to carry through with that. Sending a gift in the mail? Receiving a parcel in the mail is a gift unto itself. It takes the pressure off of what is inside of the packaging. I can do that. I enjoy doing that. Especially when the gift is attached to no important date.

This year, my mom is coming here. Tonight. She will be waking up Mother's Day Morning. Here. In my house. With me. In person. What in the world can I do to live up to the pomp and circumstance of such an occasion? [heart rate goes up here].

First of all, my biggest gift to you will be whatever I can manage to clean, organize, buy and arrange before your bus arrives tonight. There is so much to do. And I have so much time to do it in. But I don't want to do it. The dirt and the dust and the clutter and the disorganization have grown so big and so tall that I don't know where to begin. Honestly? I want to begin by shutting out the sun. Then you can't see how dirty everything is. Perhaps this will be your gift to me. Your arrival will force me to move. To take one step in a forward direction. And start to move the mountains of dirt around here. One teaspoon full at a time. Thanks, Mom. I will be forever grateful.

Secondly, I had hoped that some deep and profound words would pour out of my fingertips this morning so that I could print this off and give it to you as a testament of my respect, honor and love that I have for you. I know that I don't do this as often as I used to, but I have done my best to convey my thoughts and feelings as I live and breathe them. I hope that I honor the mother that you have been, are, and forever will be ... by living my life in a way that makes you proud. I hope to raise my own family in a way that perpetuates the sense of family that we have among us. I am so grateful for the bonds within our family. I can see my own little family starting to emulate what they have grown up with and it makes my heart happy. Thanks, Mom ... for living your life the way you do. For showing us 'love' is a verb. I'll never forget the story about when a squabble among my two older sisters resulted in Mom telling one of her daughters to tell the other "I'm sorry". My sister simply couldn't do it. The best that she could muster was, "I can think it ... but I can't say it". Mom thought to herself "Good enough". It is better to think something and be truthful to yourself and the world around you, than to go off spouting empty words just because you have been told to do so. "I love you too, Mom" ...

Third, I don't have a gift for you. Perhaps as today unfolds, some physical token will present itself to me so that I have something for you to unwrap. But I don't do well under pressure. Let my gift to you be the unexpected gift that may have already arrived. Or the package that will find its way to you when I find something that speaks to me. Just because I don't have a gift doesn't mean that you aren't gifted. I hope that the day is a little bit special for you and I will do my best to help that happen. But I simply fold under pressure. Please forgive me. You don't have to say the words ... I will hear them if you feel them. Your unspoken vocabulary is far louder than you realize.

Fourth, I expect no more than I give this Mother's Day. To my own children ... no physical token is required. You give me gifts throughout the year without realizing that you are doing so.

To My Oldest - the last time you were over you shuddered just a little bit when you uttered the words (to me) that you can't believe how much you are like me. Yes ...  you were talking about my our obsession with pre-washing dishes before they go into the dishwasher. The moment you said the words (again), I had an instant replay of the time you came home when you were driving your friends around in my car when you were a teen. Your friends were 'misbehaving' (I don't remember their exact actions but they were distracting you while you were driving in much the same way an out-of-control child can do) and you pulled the car over and stopped. You told them (something to the effect of) to settle down or get out. You quite physically shuddered when you told me this at the age of 16, "I can't believe it ... I'm turning into you!!"

Thank you. You have been listening all along. Your subconscious mind will remember some of the wisdom lessons that I have done my best to share with you. You will hear my 'voice' throughout your life. It may not seem like much right now but some day it will. Trust me. I know this. I cherish hearing Dad's words of wisdom when I need them the most. Mom may live five hours away but I am forever quoting her. May you remember the 'good stuff' and let the rest go. Please??

To my Second Son - you and I share a perspective about life and how we see it on a sporadic, yet somewhat regular basis. Having you back at home while you rerouted your life these past years has added a little lot of the mundane day-to-day stuff to our lives. Neither one of us enjoys chit-chat on a regular basis. We tend to steer our energy towards 'real' conversations. We have had many. Most recently, was when we drove out to see Mom a month ago. I enjoy your perspective, your passion, your integrity and your honesty. You tell me truths that I may not always want to hear but you keep it 'real' around here. You see me - inside and out. The good, the bad and the ugly. And (I think) you still love me. Words are cheap around here. We don't say it out loud. We act in loving and respectful ways. I hear you too ...

Thank you. You make many, many days 'Mother's Day'. You do things without me asking you to. You do things when I ask too. I know it is ever-so-much-easier to do something when it is your choice ... I thank you for doing the 'hard stuff' when I know you'd rather take a memo and get back to me. You have been the 'Man About the House' that I have never had. Not since Dad ... not since Dad ... Thank you doesn't even begin to cover it.

To My Youngest - you are wise beyond your years. You have enveloped the characteristics of your older brothers and wove them into something unique and special within you. You have inherited and embraced the characteristics within your dad that I loved. You have only just begun yet I see the path that you are headed towards. You were the gift that I did not ask for, yet I received anyway. You talk with me about your days, your hopes and dreams ...  yet you listen to me carry on about my mundane little stories too. You know of what I speak when I talk about my frustrations within my little daycare family. And you lead by example. I am learning from you ...

Thank you. You listen to my little rants. Oh, except for those times when you sort of shake your head a little bit after I've spoken a little too long without breathing and say, "What?" Yes. I know. I do it too. So did your dad ...  so did your dad ... (please remember to honor that side of yourself). You are patient and caring. You see beyond the obvious and you are looking ahead with your head secured tightly. No rose colored glasses perhaps, but the ability to see through the clear reality-tinted ones is a gift. Embrace it. When you look back on your life one day, I am wondering whose words of wisdom will come back to you. Mine? Or your own??

To My Mom - see what you have done? Do you see what I see and feel within my little family? This is the greatest gift that you have given to me. The ability to parent my children in the best way that I know how. I was a different parent to each of them at different parts of my life. I did the best I could with what I had at the time. My Oldest does not recognize me as the person who raised him. For that, I am both sorry and grateful. I'm grateful that I improved (?) with age ... but sorry that he was the one who took the brunt of my learning curve in the early years.

Thank you, Mom. Words can't begin to encompass my gratitude. But I try. I will continue to do my best to carry your wisdom and lessons and words within me. I promise to hang on and cherish the good stuff and let the rest go. We are imperfect people in an imperfect world. We teach our children what we know when we know it. But most of all ... we teach by example. Thank you for setting the example that you have set for me. Thank you for enduring the 'hard stuff' so that you can sit back on a day like Mother's Day and feel the goodness that you have created come back to you. May that be the gift that you receive. Not just from me. But from all of those who you have mothered along the way.

There you go, Hallmark. I did it my own way. I may not make greeting card brevity requirements, but I did what I set out to do (I think ... I must go back and reread this now!).

It is kind of nice to have a special day to honor your mom after all. No matter where she may be. We carry our moms within our hearts and we share what they gave us to those who touch our world. I think moms everywhere know this. May the moms who are looking down upon us feel all that we are feeling. Sometimes ... the words simply don't have to be said. They know. Because we feel it deeply and act accordingly. Please know and be comforted that your mom knows how you feel about her. Wherever she may be ....