Blanketed in Friendship

We met by chance, became (and remained) friends by choice. These are the people I spent time with this past weekend.

They navigated life, snow and made time for a little "retreat" at my little oasis of a home. And it was good.

My hosting muscle is weak and out of shape. A weekend with friends reminded me "I can do this!" and strengthened my ability to live a step outside my comfort zone.

In an attempt to clear the clutter of my mind, I had a list of things-to-do before my guests arrived. I was down to the final hour before their anticipated arrival time. I knew time was running short so I asked myself, "What would you rather them catch you doing when they arrive? Vacuuming? Or snow shoveling?" Shoveling won.

My home was clean (enough), meals were prepared and I had just finished clearing enough snow for my guests to park, get out and around their vehicle when they arrived.

Then the magic began.

There is comfort in being around those who know you well and the feeling of knowing them well too. Shared history creates a solid foundation for a weekend visit. 

There was comfort, laughter, food, comradery, encouragement, more laughter and more food. We tested out our sea legs at the mineral spa. We enjoyed the music of an artist we know through someone we had all worked with. 

Our weekend was blanketed not only in the fresh-fallen snow. but in the comfort and ease of friendship that has spanned over the course of the past 35 years. 

It was a weekend worth the effort of clearing the path for whatever the next 26 hours had in store.

Guest Ready

Preparing for guests is truly a gift to myself. I do little other than ensure bedding, bathrooms and the house in general is fresh, clean and tidied up. Oh, and food. Prepare food. Simple, easy to serve sustenance. I do these things for myself but, more often than not, not all at the same time.

There is a potential I may have overnight guests. The possibility is there but certainty evades me at the moment (darn snow!!).

Thus, I climbed out of bed and directly into a forward momentum this morning. Washing sheets and a load of darks is well underway. I have two beds (out of three) guest-ready.

Meat is thawed for a make-ahead slow cooker meal. That will simmer as I clean bathrooms, dust and vacuum. I may get some soup simmering too.

If my guests opt to come today, I must shovel out a spot on the driveway for them (darn snow!!).

No matter what happens, I am truly the benefactor of this motivational push. I deserve clean sheets, bathrooms & house as much as anyone. I will reap the benefits of having some meals made ahead. It is a win-win situation.

Will clear snow for guests ... personally, "I know a guy (company) with a Bobcat" and I'll wait.

Snow

Snow, snow

Disappear!

Come again another year...

Yesterday morning:

This morning:

Tunneling out (one last time?)

 

That's all.

Staying Home is the Place for Me

 It is my favorite day. A week day off work, with no place I need to be. This is my definition of a Perfect Day.

Working outside my home has taken a toll. First and foremost is leaving the house. Then there has been the learning curve. Add "being on" for 8 hours a day? It's a recipe for exhaustion. Don't get me started about the wardrobe (but here I go anyway). 

Thankfully I have five tops that pass for work attire. 

The staple black pants? I bought a pair for a 90th birthday celebration in 2019. I've gotten my money's worth out of that pair of pants. If I had known the mileage they would get, I would have bought at least two more pair.

The life saver was finding these shoes. Mesh shoe, my orthotics slide right in, slip-on (laces are simply an accessory):

I've worn out a pair; my current pair have lasted the winter and I've got a back up pair in the closet. I honestly believe the shoes were what made all things possible. Socks and bare feet were my previous foot attire. 

I've managed, but the need for a work wardrobe update has been a bridge too far. Rotating my five cool tops has been made easier by adding four winter tops to the mix. Spring is in the air and I wish some magical creature would sneak into my closet and update my wardrobe. I despise clothes shopping.

Man! I really fell off topic. 

The moral to this post is the magic of this day-at-home where I can fall back on my regularly scheduled comfy tops. If only my work wardrobe was so easy ...

My cartoon-character wardrobe with new colors arriving soon!

I do believe we can all learn something from Steve Jobs, who wore the same outfit every day. It reduces decision fatigue and allows one to focus on important tasks at hand.

Point taken. I rest my case.

Tracking

I'm finding my reason behind the tendency to have an online shopping addiction - the ability to track your parcel online. I find this as interesting as watching the plane-tracker apps when someone you know is flying home. I love knowing where things are at. In all senses of the word.

I appreciate being told what number I am in a queue when on hold for an extended period of time.

I would love a "progress bar" showing the % complete in all aspects of life - not just when downloading a computer program. 

It gives one the illusion of having some control in an unpredicable world. 

I found a few different places online to order my favorite-top-in-my-world. I went crazy on the weekend and ordered six different colors from two different sellers. They are on their way:

My perfect world would consist of a closet full of identical clothes, with a hair style I like being frozen in time, like that of a cartoon character, with a progress bar showing where I am in the timeline of my life.

I like knowing where things are at, I like the feeling of wearing comfortable, crisp new clothes, I love responding "Same, same and same" when someone is updating my customer information. 

Little things. I like when life-as-I-know-it feels like a well worn rut that is comfortable and known. Even better? I love knowing my favorite tops will arrive by April 1st!! I have places to be and people to see on April 4th. You can bet your last dollar I will be showing up in my cartoon character's attire. Same, same, same.

Now ... if only I could find that cartoon character's hair stylist.

Life After Dark

As my pen wandered the page and sifted through my thoughts as I wrote my Morning Pages, it finally landed on a goal - simply stay awake after supper.

I have had jobs which have worn me down, starting in 2011. 

It all began with a Nightmare Boss (or two or three). I suppose that was the worst of times. But it sure set me up for the years that followed.

The common denominator was the onset of turning on the TV and tuning out my thoughts after supper. Add utter mental fatigue to the equation and the only way I could stay awake after supper was to turn to chips. 

Chips and TV have been my coping mechanisms for almost fifteen years. The past year I have adapted to falling asleep in front of the TV directly after supper. I've forfeited chips in lieu of a bedtime as early as 6:30, probably averaging somewhere around 7:00 - 7:15 pm.

This morning, I decided I can do ONE thing to start the evolution of change. Devote ONE hour after work to some task. Be it big or small. Maybe even a walk. Just ONE hour. I can eat at 6:00 instead of 5:00. That should delay my bedtime to somewhere around 7:30 to 8:00.

ONE small change. Just ONE. 

Can I still embrace my ritual of climbing directly into my pajamas after work? Until my ONE task becomes something I am doing outside, the answer is "yes". 

Climbing into my pj's is like a warm embrace at the end of a long day. I have exchanged chips for pajamas. Don't get me wrong. I still turn to chips if I want to stay up past 7:00. But I'm not filling a void with chips the way I did once upon a time. I am wearing out my favorite pajama pants though.

Due to the fact our day light hours are increasing, I don't know if I can begin to actually have a life after dark until sometime in the fall. But I can add one more hour to my days by simply doing "one hard thing" after work. 

  Living my best life - Netflix & Chips

Just Another Manic Monday

I feel fired up and energized this morning. One perpetual-motion-kind-of-day begets another. It's a shame I have to waste this energy by going to work.

Sigh.

I have hermit like characteristics that would not serve me well, if I didn't have to push myself out of my comfort zones on a regular basis. The pandemic encouraged my favored lifestyle and I savored the moments when life expected less of me.

When I dreamed of creating a life in my new home, I had visions of semi-retirement dancing through my head. I would do a little bookkeeping for a side income, live off my pension income, live a quiet little life and I would start to create something out of the letters Mom & I wrote to each other over the course of 30 years.

I would sit on the deck with my coffee and a book. I would watch the sky, the birds, nature and simply listen to the sounds around me.

I would putter around the yard in the summer, read and write in the winter. I would go where the wind blew ...

Oh, it was a good dream. Peaceful. Content. 

Then the wind blew in and directed me towards two casual job positions which have quite likely saved me from myself.

I need routine. People and social contact is very good for me. Oh, and the income comes in pretty handy.

Weekends go far too quickly. I tend to fritter one day away and if I'm lucky, the second day off is more productive. That is not always the case.

Every single time I have a perpetual motion kind of day - a day where one thing leads to the next, the next and the next it feels so good I wonder why I don't make the best use of my days more often.

I wrote those words and realized even my unproductive days are a result of perpetual motion. It is simply motion that doesn't produce results.

Yesterday was a good day. It started with not having the ingredients nor feeling in the right kind of mood to do a little meal-prep for the upcoming week. It ended with this:

Enough prepared meals to last a week. 

Perhaps I should freeze some for a weekend that doesn't produce the same results.

Monday is hard. 

It is made a little easier when your prior self is looking out for your future self.

Please take care of your present day self. 

That's all we really have.

I'll Know it's Spring When ...

Spring has officially arrived.

Today we have 12 hours and 21 minutes of daylight.

Daylight hours are exceeding the moonlit hours by 4 minutes each day.

Even though our current temperature is -13°C (feels like -19°C), 

the two week forecast says we will reach a high of +6° (feels like -2°) by April 2nd.

March came in like a lamb so it is highly likely it will go out like a lion 

(5 - 10 cm of snow is forecast for March 28th).

But I have the true barometer of spring's arrival by simply looking out my bedroom window.

When the frost on my windows is gone, I will officially celebrate spring.

I haven't been able to see out the window for most of the winter. 

Today is a balmy 1/8th of a window of frost outside.

Spring? We are all waiting with baited breath. 

Please come soon.

Saturday

Need I say more? Saturday. 

It is a word, a sentence, a paragraph and an essay unto itself.

Saturday.

We made it through another work week.

All I can say is aaaaah.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Memories or Excess?

The move to my little home in this small town should have resulted in a major culling of "stuff". Long story, short? It didn't. 

The collection of paperwork and memories that made the move have been shredded, sorted and organized in a fashion. And this is what remains:

My favorite cozy little room in the house will be the "final resting place" for all of the above. It is my intent to cull what isn't important, display what is (a few floating shelves are high on my wish list) and what is left will be organized in binders which will be easy to leaf through.

The bigger question is why am I holding onto this stuff? My own children show little interest in what feels important to me. Perhaps this will change over the next twenty years but if it doesn't, I hope if all is sorted and organized there may be someone out there who would be interested in the "story" I hope to create.

This is just one small piece of a picture that is so much bigger than all of this. The massive amounts of pictures, paper, letter and memories that are still housed in my previous home. And Mom's library of books ...

I hope to find good homes for all of the above. I have thoughts and ideas.

In the mean time, I do have to wonder - 

am I holding onto memories or is this all a little too excessive?

Small Town Livin' is the Life For Me

As I reflected upon yesterday, the highlight reel included knowing the first three people who walked into the Boardroom for a meeting; being connected through my small town school-mates to the two obituary notices posted at the Post Office; mentioning this connection to the Post Office clerk and through an offhanded comment I made, she put together the fact that she knows my sister and taught her kids.

I was walking back to work after lunch and the people I met on the street greeted me enthusiastically as we spoke of the direction of the wind at that particular moment. 

While I was helping someone at work, I recognized the name of the venue he has taken over and rejuvinated. I mentioned I had just bought some tickets to the premier performance. He appeared genuinely interested and excited to meet the person-whose-name-he-didn't-recognize, who bought tickets online, for this event.

One of the first residents who made a lasting impression on me was someone I met at the Town Office. We bonded over her cat's collar a few girls found and turned in. We have met up several times since then so when she came in again yesterday, it felt good to recognize her. I may remember her more than she remembers me. I reminded her of our first conversation and she twinkled and shone just a little bit over her vague recollection (the cat collar will forever be the point of reference to remind her who I am) and seemed pleased to be remembered. 

Small talk is not one of my favorite things. I try oh-so-hard not to use the worn out phrases that fall off people's tongues without thought. Yet in both my jobs, I'm in a position where small talk is simply part of the job. As I was retelling a few of the stories about some of the memorable moments of conversation that have been struck up as I do my job, I commented "I don't like small talk - I like medium talk."

When I first moved back to my Province of Birth, I knew I didn't want to live in a location where people knew my sisters or my family. I could never live up to their reputation. I was embarrassed to simply be "me". 

I now live in a town where the vast majority of people I encounter know my sister or my family. I have grown into myself and I am pleased when people recognize my family. It's taken thirty six years, but I've finally grown into my name. 

It feels good to be seen and remembered. It feels even better to be in a position where I can pass along that gift. The gift of remembering a small piece of another's story.

The theme song from Green Acres started playing through my mind as the words 

"Small town livin' is the life for me".

Oh dear, I'm certainly showing my vintage, aren't I? 

One Small Positive Thought

It all started with my wish for a small shelf by the back door, so if I had two cups of coffee in my hands, I didn't have to put one cup on the floor in order to open the door.

My wish came true. Then cool weather moved in and the purpose for this handy little shelf evolved into a place to set my keys. Unfortunately, the keys left black marks on the paint which were next to impossible to scrub off. I finally found a purpose for a cup of Mom's I had claimed and put aside for reasons unknown. 

I found the reason:

I really liked this splash of color in my grey-dominant home. This cup catipulted me into many hours of interweb searches for decorating touches and pictures with a splash of yellow. 

Yellow is a color that sparks joy within me. Simply searching for a splash of yellow calmed my soul and shifted my focus to "yellow" thoughts.

My wish list ebbed and flowed. I decorated my "Daybed Room" during this time. My daybed room was inspired by something completely different. More on that another day ...

I couldn't take the plunge and purchase a large picture off the internet but I did find this one. Terribly overpriced but it sparked joy and I couldn't let it go when suddenly the words "Short Supply" flashed before my eyes.

I took the plunge and invested on another splash of yellow:

I love this small picture. I love the message. That's it. That's all I have today.

May your day have a splash of yellow woven into the fabric of life-as-you-know-it.

May one small positive thought change your perception of your day.

Write at Night

Write at Night - this was yesterday morning's epiphany. This would become my new habit. Write at night in order to extend my existence past 6:30 pm. Long story short? I didn't work.

It still feels like night, as I write this. Sunrise is 40 minutes away, so "I still have time" (I hear Mr. Incredible's voice in my head as I write this).

I've restarted the habit of writing three, hand written 8-1/2" X 11" pages every morning from my room with a view within my home. I'll write more about that another day. That little room is becoming a dream come true for me. Truly an oasis within this little home of mine ...

The habit of writing my unedited thoughts and just going with the flow of wherever the pen takes me has been tedious at times but for the most part, it has been clearing out the clutter of my thoughts. Does everyone spend their day with their Inner Critic nattering endlessly in the background as life-as-you-live it? Or is it just me?

I have named my Inner Critic "Gertrude". And man!? Gertrude is quite the piece of work a lot of days. She has a snide tone to her voice. Nasal to be exact. With attitude. Nag. Nag. Nag. I write her out of my thoughts as I write my Morning Pages. It helps.

The vast majority of my morning thoughts are to-do-tasks, counting down to the weekend, naming the day and my feelings about it. Blah, blah, blah.

This morning, as I (once again) counted down the days until the weekend, I thought of how this weekend countdown ritual reminded me of my youth and how I may never outgrow it. It put a different spin on my tired old tale of working for the weekend.

I listed off a long list of little things that remind me of my youth and how I nurture my inner child. Thankfully I have written this list in longhand, so I won't bother repeating myself here. But I ended my list with my home-of-choice these days.

I moved back to my Home Province thirty seven years ago. I moved back to my Town of Birth eight months ago. This morning, I tried to envision moving back to my home of thirty six years and I couldn't see it.

I moved off the farm as a child fifty five years ago. Every step I've taken since that time has led me to this exact moment in time. I've said it before and I hope to keep saying it - I am exactly where I am meant to be.

I'm content. Life feels very different than it felt a year ago. There have been a few growing pains but for the most part it has been growth in a very positive way. I don't embrace change so I've made it harder on myself than it had to be. One forward step at a time, I've made my way to where I am at this very moment.

I'm home.