Something Good is Happening Here

Spring has sprung and my wish list is being tended:

 The best part about this view is the two deer who meandered through and popped over the fence before I could snap a picture to prove their presence in my yard.

Even Mother Nature's creatures are curious to know what's next. 

Stay tuned.

Recreating What Works

I had a routine and life style that worked well for me when I ran my daycare. I've been striving to find a way to recreate that-which-worked-best for me ever since. 

As I wrote my way through my morning pages this morning, I realized some of the key ingredients to my daycare days routine are finding their way back into my life.

Routine. Plain and simple, routine is where it is at for me. As much as I strived toward a routine during my bookkeeping days, I didn't have a firm schedule. I could work around getting my work done in a way that allowed flexibility. I appreciated and enjoyed that flexibility. I have missed it now that I have a work schedule and firm work hours to adhere to. Everything else has to work around that. And it does.

Meal planning, regular meal times and trying to work in all the food groups into the day was another positive about managing the appetites, nutrition requirements and needs of my daycare crowd. I'm doing much better providing myself some of the same benefits. I love making extra on the weekend so meals are a breeze throughout the week. I crave "real food" - homecooked verses frozen prepared entrees wins every time. If chocolate bars were considered a food group, I'd have it made in the shade. My diet isn't perfect but I'm eating better than I have for a very long time.

Writing. I started writing for myself (morning pages) three months ago. I started writing out loud just over a month ago. Writing rewires the way I process the world. I start creating stories within my thoughts as I think of how I could retell this in writing. I piece together little bits and pieces of life-as-I-see-it and I amuse myself with the absurdity of my little stories. My inner dialogue is much cheerier than it has been.

Noticing all that Mother Nature has to offer. During my daycare days, we marveled at watching ants, counting lady bugs, collecting stones, making wishes blowing the dandelion puff ... These were the little highlights that found their way into almost every day at daycare. I am entertained by nature's critters again. I love when the birds swoop by the patio doors and tempt me to look outside and watch the show. I miss the rabbits that used to hop by my city home. We have squirrels here instead. Their tracks in the snow confused and amused me throughout the winter. 

I do miss quiet time. Ninety minutes while my little ones slept and the older ones watched a movie. I lived for quiet time. I have yet to find a way to insert quiet time into the middle of my work day. An hour after lunch time to simply be still and quiet. I miss that time.

Walking is something that should be easy to add into my day. But I have not yet succeeded. Too cold. Too icy. Too hot. Too humid. If I was to succeed at a regular walk, first thing in the morning is where it is at for me. But then I have to go to work afterwards, so it's all about preserving the state of my hair. 

Little things. It's all about noticing the little things. Creating little stories as one watches the world go by. Rewiring one's thoughts into something that sparks a little joy.

Remember a time when life felt good. See what little piece of that life you can add back to recreate a little piece of what works best.

It's a Beautiful Morning!

I am waking up to a five-day work week. And I'm okay with that. I'm really okay.

The weekend past, was a re-energizing two days. There was no real agenda other than puttering. Just do one thing and see where it goes. A lightly scheduled amount of being social. Just enough to motivate me to be prepared for company. Mostly, to prepare meals for my five-day work week, with a side benefit of having food ready to serve. Just in case.

If you make it, they will come. And they did. It was good. Very good.

This is my view, as I have my morning smoothie, blog a little and do my daily puzzles:

Yesterday morning, I was entertained by a couple of robins. A named them Momma and Poppa because they were doing a little frolicking which makes me believe baby robins will follow. This morning, a mourning dove caught my eye as it strolled through yard, rummaged through some debris and flew off with a twig. I imagine it is building a nest somewhere close by.

I took time to simply sit back, watch and create little stories for my feathered friends who share the yard. I forgot to look outside, watch and listen to nature last year. This year, I am grounded enough to see and appreciate what is in my own back yard. Again. I love this little spot in my world. I savored the moments. And it was good. Very good.

Exhaustion hit me in the middle of the day, so I grabbed a book, went upstairs to my Daybed Room, nestled into the cushions on the daybed. And read. My neck was comfortable. I was very comfortable. A little too comfortable. I nodded off to sleep for a bit. It felt good. Very good.

I woke up and thought a very foreign thought (for me). "I should vacuum". And I did. Late in the afternoon, for no other reason than "I should". So I did. It was good. Very good.

Every little thing I managed to accomplish felt satisfying. No deadlines looming. Simply doing something because it would feel good to have done it.

I saw people in such an easy and natural manner. "Want to go for a walk .. then come over for bbq hotdogs?" An easy yes. I reciprocated when I mentioned I had made a pasta salad and we could have an easy lunch here the next day. I made a little extra just in case my son dropped by. And he did! It was so easy to simply open the door and enjoy his company, knowing I had a meal ready to serve at any time.

My social battery is charging up. My motivation button is starting to function better. My ability to simply look up and watch nature unfolding before me is life affirming. 

I love this time of year. Everywhere I look, I see life and new life brewing. The buds on the trees, the grass greening up.

It's a beautiful morning!

Connecting the Dots

Time is an elusive thing. Slipping through our fingers like water, assuming we have a tomorrow ahead of us and the many hours we mark that don't make an impact in our bank of memories.

Thank goodness we do have dates of significance that mark our time in history. Births, deaths, anniversaries, special occasions and all the little things that make a solid mark in our history.

This morning's thoughts started out because I remember the date my cousin's daughter's birth. We lived in the same city, this was the first baby I knew in an up close and personal way and my sister's oldest son was born a few weeks later (I would have to double check the date).

Remembering this one date spurred the connecting tissue of part of my family's history. My sister had children every two years, except the one two-year-span which was filled by the birth of my oldest child. I remember the year of his birth, thus I can count backward and forward to fill in the blanks of my sister's family. I can fill in the years of my other sister's children using similar connections. 

The year 2005 was a year of significance within our family. Three major life and death events happened during this year. Remember the year and one can discern the months of each of these events.

The year 2012 was the beginning of a time of loss within Mom & Dad's families. Start at 2012 and the number patterns trigger the memories of other dates of significance.

Memories resurface by connecting the dots within one's life. One event can start a domino effect of one thing connecting to another. Oh-so-many conversations unfold as one topic triggers the next and the next and all those following. 

I spent several years in the company of a relative whose memories were diminishing. Long term memories were intact but the short term ones were losing ground. Writing notes, notes and more notes couldn't make a lasting impression. She asked questions. So many questions. 

The more time I spent with my aunt, the less I took the ability to remember for granted. The more questions she asked, the more I appreciated the need to connect the dots to trigger a memory.

This morning, I sat down and wrote three pages of dates, connections, extended connections, byproducts of one connection to another and had small family history recollection. Simply by connecting the dots.

Letter to Myself - Written Nine Years Ago

I stumbled across this post written almost nine years ago. I was going through one of my regularly scheduled depressive modes. Now that the age of 65 is creeping up on me, it is nice to look back on yesteryear and see how far I have come along. Yet there is still so far to go... 

SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 2016

Letter to Self (from a Sixty Year Old Me)

Dear Fifty Five Year Old You,

I am writing this letter to you four and a half years in advance of you turning sixty years old. I am writing it to you this morning because I'm a little disgusted and disappointed in "55 Year Old You" and I think you need a good talking to. This may not be pretty. You have been warned.

I am very disappointed in you lately. If I didn't know who you were and where you have been, I would call you a "quitter". Heavens, I can't even call you a quitter because lately you have been too afraid, paralyzed &/or lazy to even start anything.

I know, I know. Once you start, you feel committed. Once you feel committed to something, you start beating yourself up. Relentlessly. You think you can't start something because you don't have a whole big chunk of time to devote to the job. So you don't start anything.

This has got to end. You know that. You know the answer is to simply take small bites out of big jobs and whittle away at them. You know this! Why aren't you acting on it? I know, I know!  You are tired. Your daycare days are long. Your weekends are short. How can you do "big things" when you have so little left over at the end of the day?

If you keep this up, by the time you hit the age of sixty you will want to abandon this ship and this home you have created because there is always "too much to do". Isn't this home everything you ever wanted? Hasn't this house enabled you to work from home and adapted to whatever you wanted it to do for you? Hasn't the ability to pay "interest only" on your mortgage allowed you to pay your bills, live a comfortable life and given you more financial freedom than renting an apartment could ever afford you?

This house is so much more than a roof over your head. It sustains you. It shelters you from the harsh elements of life in so many ways more than the weather. Respect it, take care of it, pamper it a little from time to time and it will continue to be there for you. And please, please, please try to pay it off!

Speaking of houses, I have no idea why I started this rant about "where you are" and "where I want you to go" with the house. I should have started with this body that is going to carry us from Point A to Point B. If I think you've let the house that shelters us go to pot, what in the world do you think I think about the way you are treating our body? How in the world is this vessel going to weather stormy weather if you don't smarten up and take better care of it?

As it is with the house, it is with our body. Start small. Rome wasn't built in a day. Fifteen minutes isn't long. Start there. Fifteen minutes of extra curricular movement. Yes, I know you think your daycare life is keeping you from turning to stone. But it isn't challenging you. You need to stretch and move and lift and get your heart pumping faster. You know this. But you aren't doing anything about it.

Start with an early morning walk. Rain or shine or sleet or hail. Walk. Just walk! Remember how awesome you felt when you took on those early morning paper routes? Walking the streets of your neighborhood while "the world" slept? You marvelled at the Northern lights, the glistening snow, the sounds of silence and nature. You thought. The words flowed in and out and through you. You came home revitalized, energized and motivated. You loved that time. Skip the paper route, take on the walks. Start there. Add and change things up as you go along. But you must BEGIN. You must. Your life depends upon it.

While I'm at it, you must nourish yourself with good food. What you feed your body fuels your brain and your brain is acting starved lately. Give it some good, solid fuel to work with and you may be amazed that your ability to think, act decisively and "do hard things". This is half the work you thought it was when you were spending your life binge watching the Gilmore Girls on the couch, with a can of Pringles at your side. Replace the Pringles with almonds. Make good meals and you may be amazed that you may fuel the appetite of others. "If you make it they will come."

I've sat back and watched you wither yourself away into a shadow of who you are capable of being. You do not have to do great things at all times but you do need to follow your passions. When you deny yourself the ability to dream big and chase a few of those dreams you become small and your world becomes smaller. You know your world is shrinking. You think you like this feeling right now. I want you to look outside of your smallness and do uncomfortable things again. Invite people into your life.

You need to look out the window and let the world inside. You are lonely and you don't even know it. You think you don't have enough of yourself to spread out any thinner than you already are. You have been here before and you will be here again. Writing is where it is at for you. If you are too tired, too fearful and too stuck in your ruts, WRITE! Send emails, letters, cards and write little notes to those who have made an impact. Write! Write! Write! This is the way out of your small world. It is a beginning.

Judging by the dreams you have been having lately, you are feeling very aware of Mom's mortality. In some ways, you feel like you are "channelling Mom" in the ways you have slowed yourself down, felt overly attached to this house and subconsciously made your world such a small one. I think you are trying to understand exactly what she is feeling by mirroring her world within your own. STOP IT! Stop it right now!! Instead, focus on "who Mom was" when she was the age you are at right now.

When Mom was this age, she was faced with her new reality after Dad's heart attack. He never came home again. I think of Mom when she was going through that time and she was strong. She simply kept taking the next forward step during a time where she must have felt completely in limbo. We marvelled at how young Mom was at age 65 and all the memories her grandchildren had of their very untypical grandma. Yes, Mom was (and still is) a force to be reckoned with. Her family and her home were (and still are) everything to her. Yes, she has slowed down. Yes, her body is starting to wear out. No, she will not live forever. That scares you, doesn't it? Ya, me too.

We don't know what life is going to hand us in between "now" and "five years from now". You simply cannot spend your time focused on that uncertainty. Take the lessons you learned from "loving André" and pay them forward.

• SAVOR THE MOMENT. Always. 
• Make memories, document them. Take pictures, but write. ALWAYS WRITE!
• Let your love shine. Your actions speak louder than words. ACT LOVINGLY.
• Let others know how you feel. SPREAD THE POSITIVE. One positive word goes a long way. 
• You will never regret what you have done. DO ALL YOU ARE CAPABLE OF DOING.

You know where your passions lie. For you, it is writing. Write for yourself. Share what is worth sharing. Just keep writing.

You are at a crossroads right now. Your children are adults and on their way. Some are further down the road than others but never forget how you feel towards your own Mom because that feeling is one you want to nurture with  your own children. We have a good, solid foundation. Just keep building.

You have some amazing friendships and relationships within your world. Don't neglect them. Even when you think you don't have time, you can always make time to send off a note or card or email. Keep those connections alive. They nourish and sustain you.

Take a chance. One chance at a time. You have become a shell of who you used to be. You know it. You are disappointed in yourself right now but this is not the end of your story. Even though (at the moment) you wouldn't care if it was.

Yes, you are tired. You are tired because you are not involved in creating your own story. You are sitting dormant, waiting for life to happen. When "life happens" it is like a slap on the face. You react. You feel indignant. You recoil then rebound. You always rebound. How about not waiting for a "slap in the face" this time? You have the power to live life out loud without being slapped into it.

Feed your body, mind and soul with fresh air, good food and positive input.
Walk. START by walking.
Write. Never stop writing. It is where you find your answers, your inspiration and your dreams.
Love. Open your heart up and take a chance again.

I want to read these words in four and a half years and say "YES! YES!! and YES!!!". I did it. I made changes. I pushed myself out of that rut and into a new and improved one. Most of all I want you to believe "Life does go on regardless of how you live it. Live it well!"

See you in the future my weary friend. You have everything you need inside of you. And if it isn't inside of you, it is here within your home, your heart and those who touch your world. Stay connected, my friend. Stop, look, listen with your heart. You will find your way. You aren't lost. You just haven't found the right highway yet.

You will find your Field of Dreams, my friend. "If you build it, they will come" ...

To be continued.

After

I did it. I spent the day outside dealing with pinecones, leaves and just a general clean-up around here.

If one compares yesterday's pictures to the ones below, the undiscerning eye may not notice a vast difference: 

But this is the difference my eye is drawn to - the leaf/pinecone pile in the back alley:

Before

After 10 dumped loads of pinecones

That is all.

Waging the War of the Pinecones

Today's mission? Attack the pine cone infestation in the yard.

I wrote those words and immediately went back to my numbers game. How many dollars worth of points have I accumulated on my various rewards/credit cards that reward me for spending? $325.00 worth of "free spending" has amassed while I was busy spending. The leaf blower I have my eye on costs $338.00. 

I like the way life balances out, when I play the games I do with budgeting and spending.

Oh, number$ ... I have missed you so. I'll be back to play within the contents of my spreadsheets after I tend to the yard.

Back yard

Side yard

One HALF of the front yard

(Part of) the other half of the front yard

Driveway - by the street

More of the driveway. Yes, that is still a snow bank in the background.

This is a lot of yard for one who doesn't love nature.

I conquered the bookkeeping and taxes. I can defeat the pinecones.

Until the next wind blows the stockpile the trees are still holding onto.

Numbers

I can tell I have recovered from the tax season when my own personal budgeting and financial spreadsheets pique my interest again.

I have spent a lot of money this month. I have earned just as much. I was delighted when I realized the payment received for doing the bookkeeping job that has felt oh-so-hard-to-do covered most of my extravagances. 

I can't wait to sit down and let the hours disappear when I play around with different financial scenarios. Could I afford to work three days a week? How much does small town living really cost? How much should I be saving?

The more my head is intrigued by numbers, the less interesting the words that fall off my fingertips become. I am in spreadsheet mentality this morning. The words aren't coming.

Numbers and playing around with different ideas of where I really want to invest time, effort and money. Do I invest more into this two-story little house with a forest of pine trees surrounding the immense amount of yard and driveway I adore? Or do I consider the idea of searching for a more suitable bungalow with less outside maintenance?

The best part about playing around with numbers, mapping out different scenarios, creating a hopes and dreams list is it doesn't cost a penny. Until one makes a decision.

I love to dream. I may sit here in my little home surrounded by big pine trees (a handful of which have died and need to go), look out my windows as I look towards my tomorrows. 

Investing in my non-existent grandchildren (see yesterday's post) isn't an option. So I'll have to come up with other ideas.

Investments

I listened to my sister speak to her young, adult granddaughter as we drove home from our sibling weekend a few weeks ago. The tone of her voice, her words, the ease of the conversation and her reassurance as my sister spoke to her granddaughter. All I could think was the investment my sisters have made with all of their grandchildren is unmistakably the best investment one could make in this time of great uncertainty.

I have watched and listened to my sisters as they have been there for their children and grandchildren. Their availability to "be there" in whatever capacity was required, traditions and family occasions when all the family gathered so the sense of family was established and reestablished throughout the entirety of their lives, attending whatever events their grandchildren participated in. 

I have had the advantage of being about a decade behind my sisters and have heard them speak of "coming events" as the years advance. The years that separate us have all but disappeared over the course of our lives but I still look to them and learn.

Investing in family is a good way to go. I've still got a lot to learn.

A Little of Everything

The past weekend was my idea of perfection. A little dash of this, that and everything created the exact combination of what I needed/wanted to accomplish, seasoned with a touch of family which was the finishing touch.

One-on-one visits with my adult children is one of my most favorite things. "This" is the reward of having parented one's children to independence. The enjoyment of their company on a new plateau.

I listen to those who dread the idea of becoming an empty nester. I worked hard to gain this title. I plan to savor the rewards of enjoying the company of my self-sufficient in-dependents.

One of the things I appreciated the most, is two out of three filed their own tax returns!! 

I must admit, if I hadn't helped my third file their taxes, I wouldn't have had the excuse to talk with them. We just need to enhance those visits by eliminating the tax-factor.

It isn't the way most families celebrate the Easter weekend, but I'll take it.

Going With the Flow

One more day to savor this April long weekend. My only plan for the day is to go with the flow. Toss out one invitation and happily go wherever that may take me.

Aaahh!! Relief. Pure and utter joy. All the hard-things-to-do are in my in my rear view mirror. Until the replacement set of things-to-do take up the space vacated. Out with the old, in with the new.

Each and every time I cleaned house, I literally made space for the next turn of events. 

My first home began with a clean slate. I bought a brand new townhouse, moved in with my one-year-old and everything we needed to make a home.

The next move meant abandoning that very home and everything in it, with my two children. Another fresh, new slate in a brand new location. 

My next home became a home where many transitions happened under that roof. My oldest moved out, my youngest was born, a daycare was created, a daycare was dismantled, which made room for Mom's belongings, soon I had enough excess to furnish an entire second home, when the excess moved out, my former employers files and filing cabinets moved in and three years after that, all those files moved back out and so did I.

I moved into that little home, once filled with the excess from my long time home and those furnishings have bit-by-bit been replaced with furnishings of my own choosing. A little bit of "Mom" sprinkled here, there and everywhere accessorized with a little touch of "me".

This little house has become home. It is a lovely little spot in the universe. I think I'll stay.

But for today? I am simply going with the flow and breathing in every moment of contentment I am feeling. This too, shall pass. So I will savor the moment while it is within my grasp.

Home Sweet Home

In the Home Stretch

I have this whole tax-season-crisis almost in my rear view mirror. Almost. It feels wonderful!

My neck is noticing the difference. Sure, getting on top of the discomfort with the assistance of pain killers helped. But I have not taken any pain relief for well over a week. None. My neck feels so much better. The weight of the stress of bookkeeping and tax season made my head so heavy that my neck paid the price.

I feel so much lighter.

One would think I'd sleep like a baby, having completed so many of the hard things that have been keeping me up at night. Well? On one hand, one would be correct. Because a baby's sleep can be anything but a solid sleep-through-the-night scenario. 

I'm still ramped up on the adrenaline rush of accomplishing that which needed to be done. My head has been busy but my body has been parked in a kitchen chair, moving numbers around on a spreadsheet, tax forms and accounting programs. It's heavy work but not enough for the body to feel the exhaustion the head is experiencing.

It is time.

Time to tend to all I need to tend in the kitchen so my meal supplies are at-the-ready for the duration of the weekend and the week ahead. Then! Then I will head into the great wilderness of my own back yard.

It's the final count-down to the season they call "taxes". I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It is the sun!

Winter's Last Hurrah

One can hope this is Winter's final blast of all it has to give.

It was cold yesterday. A winter jacket kind of cold. This morning isn't much better:

This is what my bedroom window looks like at -6°:

I long for a window that doesn't frost up in the cold and a window with a screen so I can wake up to the sounds of the bird's wake up calls. In the meantime, I will snap pictures at various temperatures to see if I can learn to tell what the temperature it is, by looking at the frost/humidity on my window.

I looked out another window and saw this:

A final (?) dusting of snow and snow banks not yet melted. 

Winter's way of saying "It ain't over 'til it's over".

It's over now. Right?

Ugly Tasks - Almost Done

I am well past the 50% completion mark for all the government filings I have on my to-do-list. The weight is literally lifting off my shoulders as I type. I have an online course I must should complete for one of my jobs and poof!! I will have completed all the ugly tasks on my to-do-list.

All that will be left is spring yard work. It will be a breath of fresh air, literally, to tend to an outdoors task. I give it a month, and the eternal yard work will be an ugly task as well. But first thing in the spring? I look forward to it.

Zillions of pinecones. Zillions.

But listen to the birds as I scan the back yard. 

The birds are back and that is what matters.

Spring is springing!

My Forever Home

I feel like one of those homeowners on HGTV, when I say "I bought my forever home yesterday".

My final home is on the walk-out level of an eternal resting spot in a Columbarium. The upfront cost covers everything. The plaque attached to the "front door" stating the resident's name and vital statistics (life span) is part of the purchase price. No condo or maintenance fees. It is in turn-key condition. 

The decision was as easy as asking my sister if she minded me being her neighbor for eternity. She responded, "Sounds wonderful!" and that was all it took.

My eternal resting spot has been a niggling thought in my mind for most of my adult life. I grew up in a city that didn't feel like home to me. Then I moved to a city that was close to home but not quite there. After I collected Mom and Dad's family memories, I knew "home" was where my story began. 

I was born here, I have come home again and I shall rest here.  

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

When People Know Your Name

It's like going to "Cheers", the bar where everyone knows your name. Well, not quite. It's not a bar - it's work. It's not everyone - it's a few. But still, it feels warm and comfortable. A little of the feeling of coming home again.

The conversation started simple, "Where are you from?" Instead of going into the details of moving from the farm to the big city and moving a few more times to get here, I simply responded, "Well? My story began close to [hometown]". That hometown is a 15 minute drive from here so that is a good enough response.

I didn't realize I was talking to someone who was on my old school bus route. "What's your name?" I gave them my surname. "Which one?" Dad had six brothers so the surname provided enough, but not all of the information. I told them Dad's name, they looked at me and said, "You must be Colleen".

 Wow. Blow me over with a feather. 

I'm one of the youngest in our family of four. We moved from the farm to a new province when I was nine years old. My older siblings grew up, went to school, married local and remain connected with the community. People know who they are. I'm one of the forgotten ones. Not yesterday.

That feeling of "coming home again" is renewed on a pretty regular basis here. Coming home again has never felt so good.

Maintenance

I have come home from my third committed weekend feeling like a version of myself I remember enjoying.

I am amusing myself again. Twisting little things into a stories, connecting the dots and appreciating the impact of one small thing affecting so much more, spotting the absurdity of my thinking, the stories I make up in my mind and I find myself smiling at the smallest of things.

I spent time with my cousins. One on one time. Visits when you lose track of time and no one wants to be the first to admit "I have no idea what time it is", takes a peek at the clock to discover hours have past in the blink of an eye.

The common denominator with every single one of these reconnections was the comment, "I need to do this. I need to get out and see people more." Various versions of the same story. Even those who one would guess has a very busy social life were saying the same.

Life has taken a toll. Loss, health concerns, living within a smaller circle, life's continual ebbing and flowing - giving and taking as we walk each forward step. The pandemic started something that has weakened a lot of our social batteries. I am not alone.

A combination of too much coffee, not a lot of food and the adrenaline lift of connecting with (what feels like) long, lost friends and family had me a little giddy a lot of the time. I found myself chattering up a storm with my long, lost hair stylist. I was talking a lot, talking fast and I sputtered out, "I've had three cups of coffee and a donut today" to explain my chattiness. We laughed.

There was a lot of laughter the past few days. Lots. That is what is ringing in my ears as I listen to the quiet of the morning. 

One day, it just so happened that only one of my cousins was available to visit. Three hours passed and our visit continued on into the parking lot. My parting comment was connected to a comment she made at some point during our chat and I wound up our good-byes by turning that comment around and making some joke. As my cousin took a step away, she connected to dots to the initiating story. She turned around laughing and said, "I just got it". We parted laughing. Leave 'em laughing. It's a very good way to go.

I had enough errands to run to keep me busy throughout the afternoon. I didn't have another meaningful conversation with anyone all day. Thus, my one visit kept me company well into the evening, popping into my thoughts the way the last song you hear lingers long after the music is gone. The gift of one true connection was the magic in the way it lingered long after we went our separate ways.

Each and every connection was ended by the promise that we must do this again. And continue doing it. There is a cousin connection that goes beyond the blood ties, as two of these people were married to my cousins. There is simply a kinship. It is real and it is strong. It simply requires a little maintenance to sustain and nourish what we have.

The entire experience of the last three committed weekends which felt oh-so-hard was a strengthening of something good. Connection. Laughter. Kinship. Shared experiences and history. Compassion, caring, listening. There was a lot of listening. 

I feel recharged, energized and capable of carrying this forward. Today. Life has a way of dulling the experience. Day-to-day living takes a lot of energy. If we can find a way to infuse a little jolt of energy into the experience, it makes a difference. 

Maintenance takes a lot of work. At times we don't reap the rewards immediately but if we can persevere, there is something out there beyond one of those corners. We never know which one.

Grounded

I have spent the weekend at my home of 36 years. And it has been good. The weekend has been full of everything I didn't know I needed. And more. So much more.

It pays to know yourself well enough to ask for what you need. When I moved to my little oasis home-away-from-home and kept my original home to rent to my daughter and her spouse, part of the deal was for me to have "a room of my own" here. A room that was not a spare room for company. A room that was just mine. 

I assumed I may be on call to house and cat sit when they went away and I was not wrong. Thanks to the ailments of our Senior Cats, they are on a schedule to maintain medication and feeding times. I am actually needed here, in a way I am not necessary in my new home. It isn't foreign to me. Cats - aloof, but appreciative of their human counterparts. We get along well that way.

My bedroom suite here is everything I need and want. Not only a bed, with a closet to hold enough of my items for me to stay a night if weather or car conditions warranted it, but also a couch, desk, small table and chairs, plus a TV. A bathroom right outside my door. A fridge in the laundry room just a few more steps. A mini-suite to call my own. Home away from home.

I have been bouncing in and out and around the house all weekend. I had a list of errands longer than I may have wished for, but they were necessary. I'm grateful I didn't have to squeeze everything into a quick day trip into the city. Everything has been crossed off the list, except for that which I added as an afterthought.

I have had the time, energy and desire to see people while I've been here. People I haven't seen for the better part of a year or more. People who, at one time, were an integral part of my life and were part of the fabric of my life here. People I worked for and worked with.

The income tax burden has been weighing heavy on my shoulders. Taxes and obligations for people I know through my former employer. 

My previous employer passed away only a few months after I quit my bookkeeping job. I have been carrying a small amount of guilt and angst over the fact that I jumped ship on them. I didn't leave them high and dry. Everything was left the way I would appreciate if I was the person who would step into the role. I gave a year's notice. Nothing was sudden or unexpected. I did all I could do. But we didn't have a formal "good-bye" at the end and I didn't quite know what to do with that.

When one doesn't know all the facts, one makes up stories in their mind. Even in my most gracious stories, I was the villain. I abandoned them. Then she died.

I reached out in small ways. I did and said everything I knew to be right and comforting. I did all I could do. I had to let it go.

When a very good friend of my previous employer asked if I would do her taxes, I had to stop and think long and hard about it. In the end, due to the loyalty, friendship and past with my previous employer, I said yes. It was the right thing to do. It was hard to say yes. But it was right. Then the weight on my shoulders got a little heavier.

The moment I met up with this person, I knew I had said yes for all the right reasons. I told her, "I don't miss the job but I miss the people. I worked with very good people." And our visit was off and running.

We had a most excellent visit and I felt my previous employer nod with approval. "You did good, girl. You did good."

I then contacted my employer's son. In my bookkeeping role, I worked very closely with him, as it was his business' books I was tending. As his mom's health deteriorated, we had so very many conversations that were not about business. We became very good friends.

Long story short, none of the stories I made up in my head were true. All was well. He simply didn't want to call to ask me for help (pertaining to the bookkeeping end of things). He didn't call, out of respect for my decision to move on.

The night prior to this, I awoke in the middle of the night, with visions of T2's, T1's and GST returns dancing through my head. The person I still do books for, is someone I met through my former employer. As I struggled with the job of winding up the year and preparing for the tax season, I quietly whispered my employer's name and said I needed her help.

I walked away from it all after this desperate plea. When I walked back, it was better. Not a lot. But a little. Bit by bit, I started finding solutions to my problems. I balanced this to that and to the other thing. All the numbers made sense. I had one final question and had an idea. I slept on it, called the taxation department at 5:50 a.m. (7:50 a.m., where their offices are located) and a recorded message told me I could expect a 1-1/2 hour wait. "I have time", I thought to myself and proceeded to count down the next 90 minutes of my life ...

Then, I knew. I was right about this. I didn't need to confirm it. I could move on. And I did.

I wound up everything taxation-related with this business the night before I arrived at my little weekend oasis. I had planned to meet up with the business owner and present her with my final numbers, to get her okay before proceeding. Then I woke up in the middle of that night and thought, since I had all returns complete and final numbers ready to present, just print them all up to PDF files and email them. This was better than presenting her with a bunch of paperwork. She could print off the files, review them in her own time and once okay'd by her, all would be ready to go. 

I told my previous employer's friend this little story the next morning. I NEVER, ever wake up in the middle of the night and work at the books. Never. But my previous employer did this regularly. I wonder ... did I wake up and finish up this job by myself? Or was the energy of my previous employer spurring me into action? I said, "I think I had a visit from E last night..." Her friend nodded knowingly and completely agreed with me.

I was one day into my three day weekend and I had visited everyone from my previous work life that mattered. And it was good. It only got better once I started calling my cousins.

I have stepped back into my comfort zone here in my previous home. I'm glad my previous self knew what to ask for, to make life better for my future self. A grounding spot here within the home of my daughter and her spouse. 

I am home. I am grounded. I am healing a part of my past self that had been hurting a little. And it is good.

Maybe I don't need that grounding sheet, after all ...

Recharged & Restocked & Back-Up Plans

One never knows where a day may go when it starts with a dead car battery, when one has places to be and people to see. It turns out it led to a mud puddle. I'll get to that later.

Thankful I was fully aware of my battery charging issues, the best part of the day was knowing I just needed a boost to get me to where I needed to be and I could take care of the rest.

My trusted mechanic was available to squeeze the car in but made no promises. "If it's anything more than the battery, I'm afraid I can't take care of anything else until next week."

Hoping for the best, planning for the worst, I had a game plan no matter where the car battery issue led. 

It turns out, it led me to a puddle which was definitely the worst part of the day. No, not slipping and falling into it mere steps away from the mechanic's front door. No, not the mud packed jeans, from the knees (yes, knees) down. No, it wasn't the bloody, mud-packed wound on my knee. It was the hole in the only pair of jeans I own that fit me.

I rolled with everything like a trooper. But gazing down to the holey knee in my jeans was a resounding, "OH!! NOOOOO!!!!"

Not to be deterred, I had a plan. I had bought a pair of pants that didn't fit and was hopeful Value Village would allow me to exchange them for my next new-to-me pair of jeans.

Yes!!! They extended their two week return policy to the month it took for me to get back to the city. I found two potential options. Bought only one. Brought them home and despite the sinking feeling I had that they weren't the ones, I was still disappointed when they didn't fit properly. The good news, is my ability to exchange them today. 

The better news is Plan B. Today's mission is a denim patch for my holey jeans and fabric glue.

I have gone through more black socks since I started back to work than ever before in the history of ever. I have found my most favorite (priced) black socks at Dollarama. Three pairs for $2.50 - a price that can't be beat. I have tried more expensive socks. No difference in their endurance. I choose cheap and buy in bulk. Whenever I go to Dollarama, I wander down the sock aisle to replenish my back-up supply. I have been looking for months. Nothing. I was down to a back-up supply of only one pair. So ... when I found my favorite socks yesterday, I bought all I could find in the store. Twenty one pairs of socks for $19.43 INCLUDING taxes.

Anyway, back to my story going nowhere but everywhere ...

I haven't had the heart to throw out all of these socks. Maybe I could sew up the toes when I get my sewing machine set up. If ever they stopped replenishing the socks in the store, I have a back-up plan. Back-up plans. It's all about back-up plans.

Add this to the fact that my most favorite black pajama pants have not been restocked since 2018 (yes, I know these things). I should have bought more at the time. Seven years later, after constant use, the knees on my pajama pants are wearing thin. I need to find new ones or find a way to patch them. Hence, the stock pile of black socks just may come in handy. If only I could think of a way to adhere them to my pj's.

Enter a humorous story told by my brother-in-law last weekend. He told of a time when his youngest sister thought she was putting Brylcreem (a hair styling product for men) on her hair, when it was actually fabric glue. The end result was a buzz-cut before buzz-cuts were in vogue. 

Funny but tragic story ... but the wheels in my head immediately started to turn. I just need to buy fabric glue to glue patches (cut to size) from my holey sock supply to my holey pajama pants.

Today's mission: replacement jeans; denim patches; fabric glue.

Life has come full circle. It's no wonder some people have a hard time parting with old belongings. If you hang onto something long enough, one can find a use for most anything.

P.S. My battery issue remains a mystery. Despite testing the battery and alternator, and cleaning/lubricating up a corroded negative battery connection, he has no explanation as to why this is happening. All I can say, is I'm grateful for the one-click-warning I get. One click upon trying to start the car. Then it starts. For an untold number of times after the warning. Until it doesn't.

It's Coming ...

I have waited out Old Man Winter. 

He's still holding out but Mother Nature is winning the war.

It is my thought that winding up my tax obligations should align nicely with the return of warm weather.

It will be a while before I can rake up all the pinecones that have fallen over the winter. 

By the time I get to the yard clean-up I will be more than ready to face the spring work outside.

It's close.

Clutter

My mind is full of clutter this morning. Most of it is related to tax reporting and filing. I have seven personal income taxes to file; two GST returns and one business. I am consumed with ensuring I do not find myself in this spot at this time next year.

One year ago, I was consumed with all of the above. And more. Three more businesses and three more personal taxes. I am beyond relieved I am not where I used to be. 

A year ago, after all deadlines were met with the government filings, I had one more end goal. To wind up all the financials of everything related to my bookkeeping job and hand it all over. And I did.

I am feeling a little PTSD as I wade through the tax season. Post traumatic stress. Yes, that says it all. 

The next few days, I will be taking a step back into the world I left behind. It is my hope to tend to all the business the first day. The positive thing about my old life is the people I worked for. I want to let the business go so I can simply enjoy the people part of the equation.

I have bemoaned the fact I don't love having to leave my home to earn my living. What I have not focused on, is the ability to separate home from work. I walk out the door at the end of my work day, come home and leave it all behind. 

Work has invaded home again. My little oasis on the prairie is under attack. I'm fighting back to regain what I worked so hard to achieve last year. A home that feels like a home. Not a work space.

The enemy has been identified. The mission is to conquer and remove it from my head and house. Clearing the clutter begins at home.

Let the spring cleaning begin!

Chirps in the Middle of the Day

I came home for lunch yesterday (six of my favorite words) and the birds were chirping so loud, incessantly and sounded SO glad to be "home".

In the fairy tale storybook of my mind, I had visions of them all so happy to see each other after a long winter away. It was a long winter for the birds too. They were reunited, catching up, excited to be among family and friends back in their little oasis in the prairies.

I stopped and simply listened. 

Turn your volume up high. Yes, they were really that loud.

The snow is melting, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. Spring is on its way ...

Chirps in the Middle of the Night

Battery power is certainly a theme in my life at the moment. After my long winded post about charging system malfunctions yesterday morning, I was awakened by the regular chirp of a smoke alarm battery that had gone dead at 1:30 this morning.

My first conscious thought was, "I thought the alarm was powered by electricity. It can't be the alarm". The second thought I thought was, "I'll tend to it in the morning". No amount of ignoring the chirp worked. It was relentless.

This is when it is pretty handy to have a second adult with good hearing in the house. The past few middle-of-the-night-dead-battery alerts happened while I was still living with my daughter. She is taller than me and deals with the technical issues required to dismount, dismantle, open battery compartments, re-mantle and re-mount the offending alarms with ease.

I was on my own. I armored up and prepared for the challenge. 

I found a new battery, pulled a chair under the alarm and waited for the chirp to confirm I was where I needed to be. I wasn't.

The chirp was in the distance. So I stood at the top of the basement stairs and waited for the next chirp. I was colder than I was before. What is it about the acoustics of a chirping fire alarm that makes the task of hunting it down so hard? I went back upstairs to discover I have a battery operated fire alarm right outside my bedroom door. No part of my conscious memory was aware of its presence.

Thankfully, removing it from the ceiling was as simple as it should be. Looking up and trying to figure out how to dismount the electrical alarm on the main floor was incredibly hard on my neck. I was grateful for the lower ceiling height and ease of removal. My neck barely noticed the brief upward glance.

Then came replacing the battery. There were instructions. Very small instructions. Embossed writing of the same color as the plastic. In the middle of the night. Thankfully, the words "Battery Compartment" stood out and I was thrilled to discover I didn't have to dismantle the alarm.

One quick fingernail-under-the-compartment-door and I was in. Battery was simple to remove. It wasn't one of those snap-on 9 volt battery connections. I simply had to align positive with positive and I was ready to proceed. 

I barely installed the new battery when, "Chirp!". What?!? Hmmm. I couldn't close the compartment door due to a small movable plastic piece sticking straight up preventing closure and ensuring the user didn't make the mistake of ignoring it.

Battery out; plastic swivel part pushed down; battery back in (keeping small plastic piece down); the compartment door closed. Voila!

But a red light continued to flash. Oh no!! I found a back-up battery to replace what must have been a dead new battery. Before proceeding, I read the microscopic instructions. "Red light will flash every 10 seconds if alarm is not functioning"; "Red light will flash every 40 seconds when functioning properly".

I was 40 seconds away from confirmed success. I listened to the ticking clock in the background of the scene for 40 seconds. Flash!

Mission accomplished.

In the short span of an hour, all was right in the world again and silence prevailed.

My question is: WHY do fire alarm batteries go dead in the middle of the night? Always the middle of the night. 

My answer is: BECAUSE you didn't change the battery on a regularly scheduled date. I'll bet somewhere in the small instructions I didn't read in full, it probably states "Change batteries every six months". I just looked that up. I would have guessed every year.

The punishment for my crime was a middle of the night wake-up call.

As I toiled through this task, the episode of  the show "This is Us", where the camera pans to their open smoke alarm door, with batteries on their list, was prevalent in my mind. They forgot to buy batteries. The ramifications of this was waking up in the middle of the night to a house fire that was out of control.

I'm grateful it was simply a chirping battery that disrupted my sleep. 

Charging System Malfunctions

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I'm not dead yet but I am feeling a tad stronger than I was a handful of days ago.

My social battery does not hold a charge any more. It is akin to my computer battery which needs a continual charge. The moment it is unplugged it dies immediately. There is no residual power in the battery. It simply dies. It does not hold a charge, even with a consistent power source.

My angst over socializing outside of the comfort of home is usually tempered when I'm surrounded by good friends and family. Especially family. That was what was so disconcerting about the weekend past. I couldn't talk myself down. I was getting close. I thought I could do it. I was packed up and ready to go. But my body shut me down and made it physically impossible to leave the house. I couldn't have even worked. I was so relieved I didn't have to feel guilty about booking the day off work. I couldn't have worked. Whew.

I slept the entirety of the day and all of the night. I awoke with the strength to push myself out of the house and onto the road towards my family.

As I drove, I calmed a little but the voice inside my head was constant. Everyone else is part of a couple. It was a family weekend including all the in-laws. And me. It was a bridge too far. 

I had visions of them enjoying this time without a seventh wheel. I was actually relieved. I thought I gave them a gift of a day without concern about the extra baggage of an odd man out. I have never, ever felt like that man. But my angst was high and talking me into all kinds of stories. 

All anxiety fell out of my body the moment I walked in. It was worth every painful step it took to get there. Gone.

And so went the rest of the weekend. Embraced by the comfort, comradery, humor and presence of family, I was home. I was truly home.

My battery recharged throughout our family time. I hadn't even realized the gift I accidentally brought with me when I arrived in my own vehicle. I had the ability to drive my sisters home for one final inoculation of sisterhood all the way home. ALL the way.

We arrived home at 2:30 in the afternoon. The better part of a Sunday to gather what I needed to forge through another work week. Time for everything and nothing. Time to do a few things for my "future self" to make waking up in the morning easy.

And it worked. 

I slept five solid hours without stirring. I awoke to a computer in a deep sleep. I fall asleep watching something on the computer with settings set so it will not advance to the next episode. Normally I don't sleep long enough for the computer to completely shut down and I can wake it up by clicking the mouse. Not last night. I thought I would try to fall asleep without resorting to tuning something on, to tune out my thoughts. I stirred for a minute or two. But I fell back asleep and awoke two hours later.

Waking up to a dark, quiet room felt so incredibly peaceful. I had a long, vivid dream, full of deep meanings to keep my mind busy upon waking. Once again, as with most of my dreams, it was a relief to know it was only a dream. 

My sister gave me a grounding sheet as a parting gift. I came home, stripped the bed, washed the sheets, had a shower and wore my freshly washed pj's to bed. I had completely forgotten about the grounding sheet when I went to bed. Everything felt so fresh and crisp that I became one with my nest of supportive pillows and comfy, familiar bedding.

I woke up feeling completely grounded. It's a miracle. The sheet works! So does the magic of family and charging my weak social battery.

I have a tricky car battery and charging system that is worsened by the car sitting idle in the garage for weeks or a month at a time. It is strengthened by a good, long drive and weakened by quick trips. 

I definitely have a short in my charging systems around here. Something to work on ....

My trickle charger showing a 50% to 75% charge after a 4 hour drive

This morning. 

My car and I have a lot in common - the need for a trickle charger.

Jann Arden - Good Mother Album Version /w Intro & Extro

Jann Arden's lyrics to her song Good Mother are what I'm hearing when I let my mind rest this morning:

I've got money in my pocket

I like the color of my hair

I've got a friend who loves me

Got a house, I've got a car

I've got a good mother

And her voice is what keeps me here

...

I have no other words this morning. 

I need to inhale the melody and lyrics of Jann Arden's song.

May you lose yourself to the music you find whispering in your ear today.

Waging a War With Winter

I've got a case of Spring Fever verses Old Man Winter going on inside of me.

Our last blast of winter simply annoyed me. It was inconvenient, cold and down right nasty. If there must be snow at the tail end of March, the least we could hope for was a blast of warmth to melt it.

The temperatures are starting to rise. My determination to let Mother Nature take care of winter's (hopefully) last onslaught of snow is starting to gain momentum.

The wind that accompanied our snow was the most annoying of all. I cleared out the pathways beside the house, to the compost bin, the patio and garage. Twice. The wind kept blowing and it continued to snow ever-so-slightly. So I quit.

I shoveled out enough for my company to park. That was it. I was done.

I could have shoveled when I got home from work last night. But I didn't. I didn't want to. I didn't care. I am still rather annoyed and insulted by the last snowfall.

I'm starting to feel a little embarrassed. I took great pride in keeping the snow in check all winter. I didn't love the idea of shoveling but I felt a great sense of accomplishment after each snowfall. 

Winter lasted one snow storm too long. I still feel determined to wait it out. It is shrinking. I am going to win this battle.

P.S. The best part about this picture is the fact it was taken at 6:11 a.m.

Our increasing daylight hours are definitely working in my favor.

Relief

The weight of the world on my shoulders is starting to lessen. One part of the equation is one third of my three committed weekends is behind me - the most challenging weekend (hosting guests feels hard) is checked off the list. The other part of this equation is I have allowed myself the luxury of taking Ibuprofen to provide a little physical relief.

My neck has been a thorn in my side (literally a pain-in-the-neck) for the better part of the time since I moved to my new home. I blame my couch.

A comfy couch and comfortable kitchen chairs were at the top of my wish list when I made this move. There is a small little nook for the couch and only a select few models would fit in the space. I felt like I'd won the lottery when I found a couch that checked all the boxes. It not only fit into the space, it turns into a bed and it has the chaise lounge feature which has storage to hold the bedding. Perfect!

I couldn't wait to settle in, make a cozy little spot to support my neck/head and have a Netflix weekend marathon.

Exhaustion washed over me and falling asleep in front of the TV became my new norm. I cannot actually even recall the first few months of living here. Other than I worked, ate supper and went to bed. I must have actually sat on the couch. Yes, I now remember. I did sit on it to discover it was hard and uncomfortable. I then sat on each cushion, bounced myself up and down and worked my way down the couch. No better. Next I literally stood and jumped on the couch. Slight (very) improvement.

My next vivid memory is nestling in to watch TV and the moment my body started to relax, shooting pains emanated from my neck straight into my skull. I adjusted, readjusted, added pillows, more pillows, different pillows and nothing worked except for lying on my side with a brand new, plump down filled bed pillow which held my head and shoulders at exactly the right angle so I could watch TV. Of course the moment I was lying down, comfortable and watching TV, I fell asleep.

I have gone through all the pain killers I had in the house - all of which are well over seven years old. I know this, because I had some of Mom's Tylenol and she died seven years ago. All of my own pain relief pills were older than that. At this point, I knew I had to seek other alternatives.

I have been to a doctor and prescribed some muscle relaxants. No noticeable relief. 

I went to a Physical Therapist and came home with a stretching regimen. I was determined to do my part so I started the twice-a-day routine that night. I injured my neck even more, in the process. I quit immediately but restarted very, very carefully after my neck felt as bad as it did before I began. My neck felt worse than ever. So I quit again.

I went to a massage therapist. I was relieved of the neck pain during the night, only to have it replaced with a constant nagging discomfort all day instead. I told this to her and the next time she made some adjustments that brought back the night discomfort with a side order of day discomfort. Third time back, I told her this and she readjusted things so I was only slightly better than I was before I began.

I bought a special Ecoden pillow which was advertised to be EXACTLY what I needed. I tried it the first night and the stabbing pains I feel when I relax on my couch was my neck's immediate reaction. I tossed it onto the floor but tried again. Once again, this pillow felt as hard as my comfy-looking couch so I tossed it onto the floor and jumped on it to try to break it in. 

The new pillow was introduced during the course of my massage treatments. The other side effect of my massage therapy was the down bed pillow that used to work so I could watch TV on the couch stopped working. I was trying everything, so I tried the Ecoden pillow to watch TV. I seemed to need the cardboard-like support, while lying down on the couch to support my increasingly heavy head. For the moment, this provides me enough comfort to fall asleep while watching TV.

My x-ray results say "mild multilevel disc space narrowing with marginal osteophytes are seen throughout the cervical spine, compatible with degenerative changes".

All I can say is, if this is aging, I'm done with it. 

I call what I have a "low grade discomfort". I know I'm fortunate. So many others have mid to high grade pain all or most of the time, with relief that most likely feels like low grade discomfort at best. My discomfort is focused on one small area of my entire body. It could be so much worse.

My diagnosis is - I have TV neck. Kind of like tennis elbow - TV neck is a repetitive injury caused by overuse of the same joint over an extended period of time.

For the short term, I'm going to fall back on pain killers to give my poor old neck a break. For the longer term, I will try to cut back on the TV watching and combine that with some light stretches.

The end.

P.S. My friend, who spent enough time here to actually sit back and relax on my comfy-looking-couch is about my height, and she found exactly the same "pull" I described when she sat back on the couch. See?? It IS the couch's fault!!