Invite Them and They Will Come

The words "a year ago today" often ring through my mind as anniversaries of dates I remember pass me by.

One year ago today, I woke up to one of the most exhilarating days I have ever known. It was a day which was a culmination of six years worth of memories.

It's funny I now smile at the memories and relationships forged during those years. At the time I was living those years out, most of my time was spent "beating myself up" over not completing our family's book of memories, putting a cover on it and distributing it to those who were interested.

I set the bar so high for myself, I knew I could never attain what I was after. So I sat and did nothing with a lot of those memories for a lot of the time. I was setting myself up for failure.

In hindsight, I can see there simply could not have been a better time to release those words and hand them out to our family. I would never have believed it, if someone had told me "there would be a better time" halfway through my journey. 

I set a date, a place and a time for our family to congregate in a stress-free, worry-free environment. We stayed at Cedar Lodge, where accommodations, meals and beverages were part of the package price. There was room for visiting, for the kids to play and for people to spread out, mingle and even just sit back and take in the view.

It was an extravagant idea and I honestly thought only a handful of people would be interested in coming. As it turned out, almost seventy family members chose to attend this little event I created in my mind eight months prior.

Yes, one quiet Sunday as I sat still in my little room-with-a-door, nestled in among five years worth of memory collecting, with a family who I had come to know within my heart and soul, there was a little voice which whispered "If you invite them, they will come..."

I needed something to push me to complete our family book project. I needed a date. One week, to the day, after I sent out the email to our family we had our accommodations booked, the deposit was made and we were committed. 

I had the date, place and time I needed. All I had to do was "write a book" as we awaited our date.

Well, as they say, the rest is history. The weekend will go down in my own personal history as one of the highlights of my life. I completed what I started. I fulfilled a dream of getting to know Dad's brothers. This courage was fuelled by compiling my mom's family's memories (and getting to know her sisters so much better in the process of doing so), putting a cover on them and "calling it a book" the year prior to starting Dad's book.

It took me almost fifty four years to get there, but I finally came to believe that I actually belonged to this family of mine. I found my roots. The culmination of those years was wrapped up in that room, that weekend and that book. I was entrenched in memories, stories, emotions and a sense of belonging. It was intoxicating.

I felt I had found my purpose to living my life. I was a part of a whole. I added something of value to our family unit. I found myself, my roots and my sense of purpose along the way.

It is hard to come down from a cloud so high. So I stayed and floated for a while. As I wafted, life continued to go on. 

My uncle, who was instrumental in helping me compile the memories for our book, was going through a lot at the time our family was reunioning. It has taken the better part of the past year for him to regain his own sense of himself, belonging and just putting one foot in front of the other and moving on. I mailed him his copy of our book so he would be the first person in our family to hold our treasure. I did so, believing he would be able to attend our reunion a few days later. But I mailed it off anyway. It was crucial to me that he was the first person to hold our book in his hands. I am so glad I followed through with what my instincts told me to do.

My uncle tells me he held onto that book and carried it with him through those impossibly hard days, weeks and months that followed. When the ground beneath his feet was shaking, unsteady and not solid enough to hold the weight of all he was carrying, he could literally hold his family in hands.

As my uncle healed, other family members faced their own challenges. My mind wanders to the battles one cousin is still battling, the loss of another cousin's child and the battles that were won along the way. It is a blessing to care so much that you can feel the pain in your own heart when another person is suffering.

We had a fun-filled and joyous reunion this past summer. We met again at a funeral last weekend. It is so much better to gather for no reason than it is to attend a funeral. The family ties which were forged at a time while we were collecting, making memories and reunioning made it feel easier to support a family member in their time of great loss.

It is harder to live a year like the past year I have lived. I have lost my sense of purpose and belonging. I feel like I'm still wafting on that cloud and unsure where to land. I've lost my drive, my focus and sense of self. 

Yet when I look back on this past year I feel the quiet and almost invisible thread which has tied me to family, my roots and the essence of who I am. I am more comfortable with a quiet presence. It is who I am.

I am feeling lost and weary. I don't have the energy (or courage) to set a date, a place and a time these days. I don't have a dream or a purpose right now. I'm still wafting. One year later...

It's a Book!!

Our new arrival arrived at

10:30 a.m.

Monday, October 27th

Weighing in at 2.6 lbs

Height - 11.5 inches 

It is named 

"Life as We Knew It"

the story of 

seven bouncing baby boys

(one of) who grew up to be my father

Author and book are doing fine

P.S. And the unexpected news!?! I have already lost double my baby weight!! The bad news? I could have swore this 'baby' would weigh at least 10 lbs. It felt at least that heavy as I carried it around with me during my six years of 'labor'.

Energy to Burn!

Who knew there was actually a little bit of energy and ambition underneath all that was bogging me down lately? Certainly not me.

Dragging out a project over the course of six years is not something I would recommend. Even though I did not (in any capacity) work on this project steady, it was always in the back of my mind. Always.

To jump straight from the completion of that project, into planning a family reunion may not have been the best strategy. But one wouldn't have happened without the other.

I needed a deadline for completing our family's book. So I forced one upon myself. The reunion.

If I was smart, I would have had the book wrapped up several months ago. But I'm not all that wise. I work best under pressure, so I created a little pressure cooker for myself.

Talk about jumping from the pressure cooker into the frying pan (or some such saying) ... that is pretty much what last week felt like.

I tended to all of the high concentration tasks this past weekend. I noticed a shift in my energy levels almost the minute I tended to the two biggest jobs on my list. I wasn't tired any more.

My body has been shutting me down and turning me off like someone out there has a remote control which governs me. I have had little control. I sit down. I sleep.

Not lately (at least, not since Saturday).

I can sit down and stay awake. It is quite amazing.

This shift in energy has me torn. I could really utilize that energy and clean a few corners within the house this upcoming long weekend. Or I could go see my mom.

The dirt is not going anywhere (trust me, I know this because I've been watching it accumulate for oh, about six years). Good driving conditions, good visiting conditions and a long weekend however? They don't all come about at the same time too often. Or in my case lately? Ever.

Funny how hard that choice seemed to be until my fingers wrote it out for me.

I think I'll utilize some of my waking hours to go and see my mom. The dirt can wait. Maybe I should call Mom and see if she is going to be home ...

Bogged Down

This is not the way I expected to feel when I wrapped up our family book project. I anticipated a feeling of elation, enthusiasm, boundless energy and eager anticipation for whatever-comes-next.

Instead, here I sit. Waiting for an email from the publishing company, showing they have corrected my revisions, so I can authorize the printing of the book to move forward and PRESTO! Done!!

There was going to be sparkles and joy. Singing, dancing and skipping through the house. I was going to ceremoniously file away all of my research files, documents and all paraphernalia related to the book.

I was going to have an excessive amount of energy and I was going to spin through the house like a white tornado and leave nothing but cleanliness in my wake.

I was going to purge and clean, while I was singing and dancing to the beat of the sound of my happy little heart.

I was going to have energy to burn and inspiration seeping out my pores. It was going to be some party inside of this little head of mine.

Instead?

They missed several of my revisions on the book cover and they didn't even send a revised book document. So I immediately emailed a revised document to make my intentions clear(er). That was at 9:56 yesterday morning.

[Insert the sound of crickets chirping here]

Then, my contact-lady (from the establishment we are holding our upcoming family reunion) sent several emails throughout the morning and we were planning to talk in the afternoon. I had my questions at-the-ready, the house was quiet and I called. She was in a meeting. Then instead of a call, she emailed me to tell me we would talk in a few days ...

Did you ever spend a day spinning your wheels? It was unsatisfying on every level.

I couldn't wait until it was late enough to go to bed last night. I was ready by 6:30.

I need to wind something up to a state of completion which will bring the sound of a happy song to my heart. That something is certainly not going to be a clean house, as I tend to my daycare family during the week.

I suppose I could dust off the top of the fridge ...

The Final Lap

Oh, how I wish it was the weekend today. For this .... is where my heart is:

The proof copy of our family-book-project arrived in yesterday's mail. As soon as I make one, final round of checks and give my final nod of approval, it will be out of my hands and off to the presses.

The sad part is, I am only on page 65 (and I have not been reading - I have simply been scanning the pages) and I have found so many little tweaks to be made. A picture and its caption not aligned properly; a drawing completely misconstrued when I made a 'layout change' to an entire page; awkward wording within sentences and paragraphs; and just plain and simple errors. I am finding them everywhere.

I stayed up until the wee hours (9:00 p.m.) last night and made a valiant effort to scan the contents for the obvious. But (as I mentioned before) I failed.

The book is so long and so tedious. I have read, reread, edited, reedited, sent it out for editing and proofing and checking. Right now (to me), this book is about as spellbinding as reading a phone book.

When I went to bed last night, my plan was to give this book one more cursive glance today and send it off to be printed before the weekend begins.

I woke up knowing that now is not the time to rush to the finish line.

I cannot rewrite the book but I can give it one last, long good perusal and send it on its way knowing I have done my best.

I read what has been written and I wonder how much I have misconstrued between hearing what I thought I heard; writing what I interpreted to be correct; and the actual truth.

My 'critics' have not been harsh enough. In one case I believe I was the one to mis-hear a story and I wrote what I thought I understood to be true. Instead of correcting me, one kind edit said they had a different memory. In my haste to assemble the massive amount of stories, I assumed they were talking of two different memories. As I hone in on details, I realize he was saying, "You've got it all wrong! It happened 'this' way..."

This has happened on numerous occasions. In fact, three other instances came immediately to mind as I wrote that sentence.

I cannot help but think, if I know of four or five occasions where I have misrepresented the facts, there are probably (at least) ten times that amount within the pages of our book.

As I called one uncle to do a little fact-checking and confirm how I should word something within his chapter this week, he told me I was worrying too much over the details. I couldn't brush it off though, because what goes down in writing will stay there for as long as the words are on the page. Future 'editions' of the book can be revised but the ones that are printed this first time through will 'go down in history' as fact.

Frightening.

Thus, I simply cannot rush the process now that I am this close. I will allow myself the weekend. That is it. No more.

Sunday night, before I go to sleep I will send off the final, revised file. Monday morning, I will click all the boxes to approve the book to move forward as-it-is.

The family book project will come to an end. September 29, 2014 shall go down as a date to remember. Six years, one month and two days after I got the 'nod' from my uncle to start moving ahead with this project, it will wind down to a close.

I knew it was going to be 'big'. Every time I dipped my toes into collecting these memories, I knew I was being entrusted with something precious. Whenever I immersed myself in assembling the stories into what would eventually become our book, I felt like I was walking on sacred ground. There is no need to rush. Even now.

The book needs to come to an end. This much I know. Just not today ...

It All Matters. We All Matter.

I have spent the past week putting the final touches on our family book project. That sounds like it should be easy, doesn't it? In two words - it's not.

On one hand, I had absolutely nothing left to say to put on the back of the book and the inside flaps. On the other hand, I had so much left to say I could barely contain it within the limitations I was given.

As I have put together our book full of memories, I am continually amazed at the little things that we remember when we look back upon our lives.

Our family comes from a long line of children who knew their dad worked hard so they really didn't expect to 'know' him in an up close and personal way.

Is there a sense of loss or missing out as they recollect their childhood? No. It was simply the way life was.

They remember the way their dad was, when he did have some time to go for a drive and get 'lost' in the fields (and as an adult, realize he had turned checking the crops into a Sunday drive where he pretended to get lost and 'accidentally' end up at a pre-planned destination).

We are lucky if we still have our parents around when we become adults ourselves. We have no idea how much wisdom and perspective they have stored up inside of them until we are old enough to hear what they have to say. When we lose a parent at a young age, I think we ache to hear what that parent may have told us as the years progressed ...

I was twenty three years old when Dad had a massive heart attack (which his body survived but his brain did not). My brother was eighteen. Even though our sisters were older (thirty two and thirty four), they were only just beginning to know Dad as a person (he worked around the clock and the calendar while they were growing up). We had all had our last conversation with Dad, as we knew him, by Thursday, March 10, 1983.

My brother and I were the fortunate ones - we moved off the farm and into the city in 1970. We had thirteen years of knowing Dad with a "9 to 5" (that is a joke, because Dad worked all the overtime he was able to amass) job with a paid holiday. We have memories of a Dad who (technically) had evenings and weekends off and two weeks paid vacation time.

Perhaps I was the luckiest of all. I grew up on our farm until I was nine years old. I have memories of life on the farm (though none of my farm memories include Dad), I have memories of growing up in the city, where I have many memories of Dad as a child and also as I transitioned into adulthood.

I remember the chats we had before I was married and after that marriage broke up (and then after my husband and I reconciled and got remarried...).

My husband idolized my dad. My dad was everything his dad wasn't. My husband thought Dad was pretty cool, because he could swear like the dickens out in the garage (and no one in the world would have guessed he knew any one of those words when he came back into the kitchen for a cup of coffee afterwards).

Unbeknownst to me at the time, my on again, off again marriage put me in an enviable position, as far as getting to know Dad goes. He had the opportunity to talk with me on so very many different levels because I was an independent car and home owner and new to the world of being an adult, parent and full-time employee.

Dad probably had the foresight to see that there was a pretty fair chance that I would need to know how to be independent and thus, we had many 'teachable' moments. My brother was on the cusp of being the recipient of oh-so-much-knowledge that Dad had to impart on him when we lost our dad, as we knew him.

I knew Dad as much as I could have known him, yet I am the one who has gone out on a quest to search for family memories in order to find a way to know Dad better and 'keep' him as part of my life forever.

In my final 'wrap up' of our family book project, I am saying so very much when I say this:

My motives for assembling this book may have been selfish. Wanting to hear and write Dad's story was wrapped in the gift of hearing about and assembling the story of the rest of our family.

As our family continues to grow and spread out across the land, it is my hope this book will serve to pass along a piece of our history to the generations to follow.

We may be transplanted in life, but there is a true sense of belonging when you settle in and are comfortable in the life where your roots run deep.

Home is where your heart is ... but our roots keep us grounded.

Little did I know at the time, my roots are firmly entrenched in our family farm. I have spent a 'lifetime' finding my way back home again. Compiling Mom and Dad's family books-of-memories has brought me to this place.

There is a little piece of me that believes I am not the only one out there searching for this feeling. Thus I am very pleased to say I am so very close to having this collection of memories ready to distribute among our family.

Within the pages of this book, you will find the impact our grandparents and their seven sons have made within our lives as we know them.

These are the stories of the people who created us, molded us, set an example for us and modeled a life we emulate (in various forms) today.

Whenever you find yourself thinking "What difference does one person make?" remember the stories you read within this book. It all matters. We all matter. Read on...

Making it Personal

I have had a busy weekend and I have accomplished exactly 'nothing' on the home (or book) front.

I was a 'substitute dance partner' for a group dance class on Friday night and I could not believe how hard it was to 'pretty myself up' enough to go out and dance.

It physically hurt, to have a shower and NOT hop directly into my pajamas afterwards. Instead, I not only had to get dressed, but I had to put on some make up, earrings and lip gloss in an effort to make it look like I actually cared about my appearance.

Not that I walk around unbathed and slovenly otherwise, but my standards have definitely changed. I don't miss all the primping and fussing that I used to do, to go dancing. Oh, how petty I must have been to put so much time, care and money into nails, pedicures, eyelashes and wardrobe. What a lot of energy it takes to try to impress someone besides myself!

I could not believe my elation when I found out the dance class was only for an hour instead of the two hours I had been told. I was home and in bed by 9:00. I let out a quiet "Whoop!" and was asleep minutes later.

The next morning, I awoke to a 'work day'. Yes, I had to leave the house and put in some bookkeeping hours. Actually, the idea of working with tangible right verses wrong equations; balance to zero; and a job that had a beginning and an end was very enticing to me. I exchanged working with letters, for working with numbers and I enjoyed the change of scenery.

I came home from work; ate; talked to a friend; then headed back out the door again to go to a house concert.

Though our performers were very talented, I missed the banter between the songs that gives a person a glimmer of 'who' was entertaining us and a little story about the origins of a song. The songs seemed to be of a more personal nature in many cases and perhaps those 'love songs' had a story that is to be interpreted by the audience in their own personal way.

Sorry, but I just don't have a frame of reference for love songs these days. My heart is not made of stone, but its aches and pains have nothing to do with falling in and out of love. Small daily occurrences make my heart soar and standing with someone who is walking through devastation within their life makes my heart hurt. Life lessons verses love lessons.

Yet there was one song that spoke deeply to me. The song "I Won't Say Goodbye" was inspired by the loss of "Danny's" father. His dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer and they thought he had a year to a year and a half to live. He died sixty days later.

I love a song with a story. This song pulled at my heartstrings. They sang a few more songs that touched me. But something was missing. It was the personal touch. It was the banger that weaves the audience out of one song and into the next. They were talented, amusing and enjoyable to watch and listen to. But I wasn't hooked. Not like I have been in the past.

This (of course) brings my things back to my family book project...

I struggled with the idea of keeping my voice out of the family-memory-book-in-progress. But my personal involvement in collecting and assembling our memories into a format that told a story became very emotional and personal to me. I was enveloped in all-things-family and I couldn't keep it to myself.

In the end, my 'voice' is all over this book. I sent it out into the world of publishing wondering if I had made a huge mistake.

After comparing and contrasting the live performances I have seen recently, I know for a fact it was the 'personal touch' that drew me in and helped me feel so much more than I ever would have, if I had simply bought a CD and listened to the music without the banter, the laughter and the little stories that brought it to life.

Well, our family book project has that personal touch. I may cringe when I read those words between two covers of a book that will be in the hands of my family very soon. But at this very moment in time ... it feels right. I'm going with that feeling.

Nightmares

My thoughts are about as shallow as a cookie sheet these days.

I am consumed with getting this 'book project' through the final stages and taking it off my plate entirely. The worry of the moment? The book's cover design.

My Middle Son sketched a perfect scene that encapsulated so very much of my dad's family's memories. He drew it, handed it to me and I knew immediately that it was exactly what I hoped to go on our book's cover.

My son has been busy with his own life lately. He held a job that dominated his life for the past eight months. He moved onto his farm and is tending with a list of things which must be done before winter. He has been stressed and he has been busy. So I have tried very hard not to add onto his work and stress load.

He is on holidays this week. True to his giving nature, one of the items he tended to (while tending to his own work) was to build a fence beside my driveway.

He started and finished the project within a day. He is my superhero. He is a star!

While he was here, I asked him if he was up to the task of doing a slight revision to the sketch he drew for our book several years ago. It must meet certain criteria (dimensions; 'portrait' view instead of 'landscape', etc, etc).

He agreed to take on the job.

I have been taking full advantage of the time it takes for him to complete his art work, to try and come up with little 'blurbs' for the inside book flaps and back of the book. I do not normally work on the book during the week, so the words are not flowing.  I am frustrated that I cannot finish this job at hand and it has little to do with my son's assistance that is holding me back.

None-the-less, in my dream state last night, it was my son who bore the brunt of my subconscious worrying.

My dream started with my son dropping by and I did not want to pressure him about the book cover so I didn't ask him. 

The next thing I knew, it was the middle of the night and I was tripping over their dogs in the back entrance way. It was 1:00 a.m. and my son was busy in the house and was keeping me awake. In the meantime, his girlfriend and their dogs moved in ...

Suddenly I was in the basement and there were ants everywhere. I sprayed down the ants, turned around and found one of those huge, gigantic, black furry/scary spiders. I stomped it with a shoe and tried to go to sleep.

Dream sequence continues ...

It was now 3:00 a.m. and I was trying to go to sleep (my son, still busy working in the house). I found another huge, scary spider in the bed which was beside mine. I took a tissue and squished it until I knew I 'broke its back' (this was my dream-mind thinking) and knowing I had taken care of the spider, I could tend to the mouse which was laying down beside the spider. I grabbed the same tissue, then carried and subsequently flushed the mouse down the toilet. I returned to dispose of the dead spider ... and it was gone.

I then went to tell my son about having mice in the house, when a rat did a little 'Spider-Man' maneuver and swung from the bottom of one of the kitchen upper-cupboards and into the bottom of the next one.

Ants ... spiders ... mice ... now rats!??!

Then I woke up.

There are no rodents in our home. There may be some insects lurking about, but no rodents. But the fact of the matter is ... my son never did tell me 'where he was at' with his artistic rendition for our book cover.

I believe this is all because I missed his call yesterday morning and he didn't answer his phone when I called him back. And I still have to come up with some words for the back flap of our book.

All I can say is AAAAAAACK!!!

Last week, I slipped into a state of not wanting to let this book go. Now that it is consuming and suffocating me, I need to make it go away.

Give it a week. One week from today, it could be done. Over. On its way. Flying solo.

Then maybe I had better get to cleaning the nooks and crannies in this house of ours to assure my subconscious mind that we are not infested with ant colonies, spider nests, a family of mice who are supplying the rat with a nice, rounded diet ....

Riding on the Coat Tails of Euphoria

I sent our family book project off to the publishers yesterday afternoon. The moment was not as euphoric as I had thought it would be.

Sending our book on its way, was followed by the immediate need to tend to life-as-I-know-it. My daycare family slept long and hard yesterday afternoon which was exactly what I needed, to tend to submitting 'the book'.

Hitting the 'submit' button to the publishers was followed by children waking up, needing a snack, tending to their bathroom needs and the necessity of getting outside to enjoy the beautiful weather for the remainder of the day.

Once my Daycare Day was over, I thought I would be in a celebratory mode. I asked My Son what he would like for supper to celebrate the moment. His answer was not what I expected.

While I have been busy tending to our Book Project, my son had been dealing with the anxiety of an upcoming school play audition (which was yesterday).

He signed up for the audition in and around the time my book deadline became very real to me. He dreamt about the audition by night. By day, his mind was consumed with the idea of whether performing in front of an audience was 'where it was at' for him (he does not like to feel the need to 'impress' people).

We were each in our own little worlds this weekend. I was 99% consumed with The Book. He was in his room, playing a new video game with friends 95% of the same time. He invited a friend over, to rehearse for the audition for the additional 4% which equated to 1% left over to interact.

Our worlds did not collide, with our full attention spans intact, until his return from his audition late yesterday afternoon.

He was depleted. He may or may not get a 'call back' on his audition on Friday. It is out of his hands (for the moment).

It is a little bit like sending off The Book. That too, is out of my hands for now. It feels good to be this close to the end. But I also know that there will be a last minute rush of things to do and the need to look over and approve the proof copy when it arrives. I have yet one more self-imposed deadline.

If My Son gets chosen for the play, his work will have just begun.

Deadlines. They are necessary. It feels good to meet or beat them. But often, they are simply just another starting point for the next step along the way.

The next step for me, was waking up to the fact that I have column deadlines looming and I need to submit my articles right away.

This is when the euphoria kicked in.

I had been immersed  in a world where I was telling other people's stories and consumed with the idea of ensuring the words which were written were not misleading, untruthful or misconstrued. I was checking and questioning every word I wrote and read.

I didn't realize how hard that job was until I woke up this morning and had only my words contend with and send out into the big, scary world.

Suddenly, that task felt easy. I knew what I wanted to say. I didn't need to question the intent or call someone for clarification or permission. These words are 'mine', to do with as I please. And for some reason, these words sounded 'good enough'. Right from the moment go.

Have I lessened my standards? Am I simply becoming 'too full of myself' and think what I have, who I am and what I send out to the world is simply good enough?

I'm not certain what the formula is at the moment, but I am grateful to simply ride out this wave of euphoria and coast on the realization (if only for a day) that what I accomplish is 'good enough'.

There is always room for improvement. But 'good enough' is where I am right now and I'm going to enjoy coasting in this space for as long as my world allows it.

Letting Go

My family book project is complete. This afternoon, I sent it on its way ...

It was much harder than I thought it would be. No, not the 'finishing the book' part. The letting it go part.

I have nurtured this little project along for six years. Granted, at least five of those years (okay, five and a half. Or more) were spent dragging my heals. But in reality, the seed that was planted six years ago has been a part of me ever since the idea germinated.

I didn't want this book to be anything like the one I put together for Mom's family. I had too much of my own 'voice' in that little book and I wanted to avoid that at all costs. This wasn't my story. "Keep Out!" is what I kept telling myself.

Then I started inviting others to join the the story telling.

My dad comes from a family of seven boys. Six of them married. There are twenty six 'cousins' on my dad's side. I asked friends and neighbors to join us. There are two pages of acknowledgements. It took 'a village' to create this book. It may have been a whole town.

It was a community effort. The contributors came from everywhere (in fact, I could almost swear that those who no longer walk this earth whispered in my ear).

Because of that community (and perhaps that whispering), I started to let my own voice out. It is everywhere within this book. I do believe it may even be singing in parts.

This book got deep inside of my soul, my life and my thoughts. I lived and breathed this book each and every time I sat down with it. I didn't want to putter through it and just get the job done. I wanted to immerse myself and do the job right.

I consider myself baptised. Something incredible happened within me as the stories started to come together.

Such a big part of what feels wonderful, is simply the sense of belonging within this family. I moved back 'home' twenty six and a half years ago. Six years ago, I started to feel I had arrived.

Six years ago, I had stepped deep into half of my family, after I compiled Mom's family's stories. It was absolutely intoxicating to feel a little piece of myself within each of Mom's sisters and see little bits and pieces of my siblings woven into that same tapestry.

How could it possibly get any better? How in the world could I ever top that experience?

Well, it took a while. I felt this crescendo gaining momentum right from the get-go. I took one step in a forward direction and I knew I was onto something. I took a second step and it was so good that it was almost frightening. I invited myself into so many homes and families and inboxes and mailboxes ... and do you know what? I was welcomed.

The response to collecting these memories has been absolutely overwhelming. It has scared me. These people actually expected me to (eventually) do something with this information. They waited. They waited ever-so-patiently. They kept telling me not to worry about when it got done. They expected nothing.

Well? They shall not be disappointed.

I am quite certain that I could have put all that I have collected into a booklet form, put it in some semblance of order, bound it together and presented it to them and they would have been fine with that. Heck! That is what I did for my family! They were pleased as punch. I could have done that 'times seven' and I know people would have thought 'good enough'! It is more than they had before.

But I went a step further.

I waded up to my shoulders and almost immersed myself in memories, research, pictures, history and questions and answers. I did my very best to encompass 'the whole story', It will be far, far too much for many people. It is TOO much information. But I tried to present it in a fashion so the people who only want to wade knee deep can read a summary and carry onto whatever interests them.

And for those who only want to wade in up to their ankles and read about the dad or grandfather they know the best, those seven chapters just about wrote themselves. I think that each one of those chapters tell the story of the man who is my grandparent's son, in the best fashion that I could come up with. I would be proud to be a daughter or granddaughter or great granddaughter of any one of those men.

I was putting the finishing touches, the final checks and the last read-throughs of the book yesterday and I was getting anxious. I wasn't ready to let it go. I wanted to hold onto it an nurture it and keep it to myself. I wanted to check and edit and rewrite and double check it again.

Until today.

I promised myself I would focus on the 'seven sons' chapters. I would read them one last time. And then I would set it free.

Setting it free wasn't so easy. It wanted to cling and hold on and it kept crying "I'm not ready yet!", so I brought it back to me, fixed it up and tried again. And again. And again.

I am not certain how many times I saved the book to a PDF file, so I could send it on its way. And I kept finding mistakes. Then different mistakes. Then suddenly the chapter headers went all funky in a few places.

By the time I finally hit the 'Submit' button, it was like shaking gum off my fingers. I couldn't wait to be rid of it.

And it went.

I still have time to revise and fine tune and give it one more good, long look before it gets its wings and flies.

But for now? I have shaken it off and I am enjoying the feeling. For the moment.

Letting go was much harder than I ever thought it would be. But so much easier, when it almost wouldn't leave. It kind of sounds like living with a child whose time to 'leave the nest' has come...

Waking Up the Netbook

I am sitting here waiting for my netbook to 'wake up'. It is a very, very slow starter. It is definitely not a Morning Computer.

When I get really rich, I will replace my existing netbook with a grown up laptop computer. One that can keep up with the various tangents my brain goes on. I hope to adopt a 'morning computer' that doesn't take an hour to wake up, go through its various updates and other miscellaneous behind-the-computer-screen work.

My netbook has been such a very, very good friend to me.

I originally bought it so I could blog my way through my Alaskan Cruise vacation. I was afraid it was an extravagance. I believe I was wrong. I have memories etched in my blog forever, thanks to my ability to write myself out before, during and after that once-in-a-lifetime vacation.

After the holiday, my little netbook got a bit of a break. It was never completely forgotten but it was so pitifully slow that it was quicker to run to a library and check out a book or four and come back home, than it was to Google an answer.

But it was still my friend. I brought it into the quiet areas of our home when it was too 'noisy' out in the land of the living room. I brought it with me if we went away so I could keep writing, reading and keeping my questions at bay (as my best buddy Google is very happy to provide almost me with almost anything I seek out to find).

Then came my Family Book Project.

My netbook became instrumental in helping me piece this book together because it was portable and I was able to bring it with me into my room-with-a-door.

My room-with-a-door vacations with my netbook and piles of family history at my side will go down in my personal history as my most favorite holidays of all time. A holiday where I didn't have to pack, unpack, plan, execute, find a house &/or pet sitter for and I get to sleep in my own bed at the end of each and every day ... is my idea of the perfect holiday. Not to mention the fact that it didn't cost a penny.

My netbook is light and easy to take wherever I go. It doesn't have a lot of bells and whistles (and if it did have them you may not hear or find them because it takes so long to navigate and seek out its extra features). But this portable little archaic piece of computer technology has enabled me to write whenever and wherever I wish. We have had many good adventures together.

Well, I think my favorite little netbook is awake and ready to go now. We will spend the weekend together so I hope it had a good rest.

It is time to wind down this project called a 'book' and see what else is out in the world besides a room-with-a-door and my little netbook computer.

Scattered Thoughts - A Post About Nothing

My thoughts are as scattered as the toys that get strewn across the living room here some days. There is some semblance of order but at a glance, it just looks like a mess.

A half hour into our day, this is only the beginning

I love waking up to a brain full of thoughts about our family book project. I am frustrated that I can't get up and just run with where those thoughts take me. During the week, I must tend to all-that-needs-tending before my daycare crowd walks in and my ability to think two consecutive thoughts in a row walks out.

Oh well. That is my life. And it is good.

Speaking of my daycare days, something magical and wonderful has been happening here this week. There is an air of contentment within our days that is quite amazing. My little people are growing up (a little bit) and my crowd of one and two year olds will soon be two and three year olds. Almost-two-year-olds are so much fun. The words are coming, they are developing a sense of 'play' (verses seek-and-destroy) and they are just so smart.

Just when I thought my almost-two-year-old was finally, finally listening and following the lead of the others (following the 'rules', even if my back was turned) ... I turned my back (in reality, I stepped into the kitchen to keep my eye on the lunch I was assembling). I walked back into the living room and my little Rule Breaker was sitting on the computer chair, had opened up my email window (and changed its size) had requested a search for "v/l;c"  within my inbox and was playing with my cell phone (which was plugged in and charging, on the computer desk). He then proceeded to break many more rules as the minutes progressed.

This little guy is so smart. I think he is smarter than me. He will not be two years old until the end of October and he is 95% toilet trained. He likes 'privacy' though. I understand and respect this. So ... I walk out of the bathroom (leaving the door ajar, so I can watch what he is doing in the reflection of the bathroom mirror) and he not only 'does his business', but he goes and touches absolutely everything he possibly can touch from his 'sitting position'. Thankfully he does not get off the toilet. Yet.

I have a feeling I may never be able to trust this guy. I have watched over him for over ten months now and he still (basically) does whatever he darn well pleases. He now looks me in the eye before he goes to do something he knows he is not supposed to do. And does it anyway. Willfully. Knowingly. He reminds me of Junior Cat, who has now graduated to the phase of knowing he can scratch on something until I physically get up and start moving towards him. My voice holds no power in this house any more. Aaaaack!!

In other miscellaneous news, my thumbs stopped hurting some time ago and I don't even know when it  happened. I 'broke' (abused) my thumbs when I delivered papers two years ago and they have never been the same. A year ago, my doctor diagnosed my thumb troubles as "arthritis" and referred me to someone who constructed thumb splints for me. My thumbs got worse instead of better and the thumb splints were all but useless. I used the wrist braces I had for my carpal tunnel. I bought "thumb stabilizers" from WalMart. I applied heat. And coolness. And massaged them. I believe I even took a pain killer a time or two. Nothing.

Then suddenly? They are better! All I can think of, is that I started taking glucosamine several (four or more?) months ago. Could that be what made the difference? Or did my body just need to heal thyself? Or did I stop doing something which was irritating them? Who knows? I just know I love when these small things happen. It is another reason to be eternally grateful for this healthy body of mine that just keeps doing what I expect it to do. Every day. How lucky is that?!! I know!!

Other miscellania within this wandering brain of mine ...

... is the fact that I am not as 'rich' as I thought I was a day ago. I checked what I owed on my credit card and compared it to my chequing account balance yesterday morning. And I came up $300 ahead of the game. Wow! Three hundred dollars is (almost) a third of what I owe for our house insurance. I was some kind of happy. I think I skipped.

This morning I thought I had better confirm those numbers. Whoops. If you want to have the illusion of being 'rich', just neglect to add one WalMart receipt to the amount owing on your credit card. I was instantly minus $145.00. Add that, to the fact that I need to buy groceries tonight? And I will owe an additional total of $300.00. Oh well, breaking even is not a bad place to be. I have a month to wrangle up enough to cover the house insurance...

My Youngest Son is practice-driving on a more regular basis now and the indentations on the passenger's (non-existant) brake pads on the floor boards are seeing a lot less use. I even relax. I knew he just needed more driving time to finesse the skills his brain knows but his muscles have not yet memorized. He still doesn't sound in any hurry to get his license though. There is a correlation between not needing a license to go to a job he does not have, nor does he want said job because it would add stress into the equation of homework, assignments and deadlines at school. Nor is he a big fan of wanting (needing) to impress anyone to deem him a fit enough driver to attain said license.

You know what? I think he has it right. He has his entire life ahead of him. To work, to drive, to add bills and responsibility onto his life. Right now, if he wants to devote his time and energy to his schoolwork, who am I to complain? Why add stress to the menu of life any time before absolutely necessary. He creates enough stress for himself by setting his own bar high enough that he has to work for it. The driving will come. In the mean time, I have a spare car. Me. The person who has a house insurance bill to pay, is supporting two vehicles at the moment. How sane is that?

Other than the fact that I changed the side on which I part my hair (hot off the presses - I just tried this last night!), that is pretty much all I have to say.

I have tried my best not to write a post about my book project and this is all I could come up with. Now that I have purged my brain of the minutiae of my day-to-day life, hopefully I have room for something 'big' in its space.

I fear my brain may be empty when this book project is complete. I suppose I may have to do something about that. In the mean time, I shall be content with thumbs that don't hurt, a bank book that always balances to zero in the end, little people who keep my days interesting and new ways to part my hair.

Over and out.

What Will I Do?

"What will you do when you finish this book?" my Youngest Son asked me a few weeks ago.

Oh, the answers that streamed into my head.

I will clean. I will read. I will cull through the excesses of the filing cabinet. And drawers. And closets. I will rid our home of excess and get back down to bare-bones living and room to breathe and live and dream again.

Do you know what I am most afraid I will actually do, after my book project is over? That I will sleep. And sleep. And sleep some more.

Two Mondays in a row, I have been dead to the world and fast asleep by 7:30 p.m.

I keep saying it is because I wore out my brain on the weekend but I am fearful this could become my new reality if I am not careful.

I am going to stick to 'Plan A' and endeavor to clear out the clutter that has seeped into every nook and cranny of our home.

It is time to make way for something new. New hopes, new goals, new dreams. New life is headed our way. I can feel it.

Monday Meanderings

One week from today, I hope to have The Book Project on its way to the publishers. Next weekend I shall 'go into labor' and by Monday morning, I hope to have 'pushed out' a book.

Saturday is my last official day to tend to that-which-needs-tending on the book. I could fine tune, add, delete, question and pick this book apart for another year, But I won't. I just can't. 'Saturday' is my last official day of fine tuning the book.

I expect one full day of tinkering with details, formatting, rechecking the page layout and a bazillion (okay, only ten) little items to do and check before it goes. 'Sunday' is my appointed Detailing Day.

I suspect there will be details and troubleshooting and minor (I can only hope) hiccups as I submit my manuscript. 'Monday' is the day I expect everything I was not expecting to happen ... to happen. I am planning for it. I will be ready.

Then I must tend to my columns. 'Tuesday' will be the day I begin the process of choosing another month's worth of articles. Followed by the task of picking them apart, editing, reading, rereading and reading them one or two more times before I send them on their way. They should be ready for departure by 'Wednesday'.

After that, I must tend to our family reunion which will be only five weeks away by that point. There are phone calls to be made, details to tend, emails to send and I cannot even begin to imagine what else. I have been putting off even thinking about this event until The Book Project is complete (although there is a reunion file which is collecting a nice little stack of papers full of notations, currently located under the (shrinking) pile of Book Work).

By Friday of next week, I expect to be living in a whole new world. What will I do?

Can you believe I just spent an exorbitant amount of time (just now) reading up on "The Honest Co." cleaning products? My knees are quite literally going weak at the mere thought of their multi-surface (advanced plant-based formula) cleaner that "tackles dirt, grease, and grime anywhere, anytime! Super versatile and ultra effective - leaving nothing behind but the fresh smell of grapefruit." They had me at 'cleaner'. My senses are going wild at the thought of the fresh, citrus odor it leaves in its wake.

After our home is sufficiently clean and smelling of citrus, I believe I will take up reading again. This morning I stopped and gazed at the unread books sitting on my dresser. In actuality, I was thinking "That's where they are! Why did I start another pile in the spare room then?" But after I was done thinking that thought, I stood for a moment of silence and pictured myself sitting back and reading. I hope I can stay awake.

The thought of reading segued into the snacks I remember having by my side as I used to read. There was the popcorn phase; followed by the chocolate milkshake stage; then a multitude of snacks to fill the void in the years afterwards...

Lately, I haven't been snacking. It has been amazing. I am feeling so fulfilled 'within', that I have not had the urge to fill myself up with mindless chewing. I wonder how much weight I have lost?

I stepped on the scale. I wish I could remember what the number said the last time I stepped on it. I am pretty sure it wasn't higher. It definitely wasn't lower. My weight seems to be stabilized. The weight of the book falling off my shoulders hasn't decreased the number substantially. You can be certain that one of the very first things I will be doing (upon receipt of the completed book) is weighing it. I (sort of) remember the number on the scale this morning. I will see if I lose the 'book weight' after I give birth.

And so are the meanderings of my mind this morning. I am here, there and everywhere (and a few additional places in between). I am so relieved to be 'here'. So close ...

Then I read of the near miss our planet earth had with an asteroid yesterday. I read this article about an asteroid which was heading our way. To think ... I could have been 'this close' to completing the Book Project and it all could have been wiped out by one little asteroid.

It makes you stop and think about the little things we worry about, doesn't it?

Maybe I won't worry about the state of cleanliness of our home after all (yet that lingering scent of grapefruit is still speaking to me).

Here is my tip of the day "When the going gets tough, remember ... it could always be worse. You never know when an 'asteroid' is headed your way."

The End ... Is it Near?

After a good, solid day of working on my family book project yesterday, I fear the end is not close enough. There is so much more I can do.

For every delay and set back, there is a positive. Always.

I devoted a day to 'filling in the blanks' for one of my uncle's chapters. I hope he is as thrilled as I am, at some of the little treasures I found along the way. If 'all had gone according to plan', I wouldn't have had to go on this scavenger hunt which unearthed more than I could have ever imagined.

Has this put me behind my (self imposed) schedule by a day? Yes. But it is for the greater good.

All the way through this project, I kept telling myself "There is a reason for it taking so long. There is always a reason..."

I know the real reason is plain and simple. Procrastination. Putting off until next year, what could have been done five years ago is the reality behind my delays. But even so, I am glad I didn't rush through this.

Even though I can see the end now, I am afraid I may miss something that should be included. I suppose that is why this uncle's chapter was almost a gift. Now I can feel as though I have 'found' that which was missing.

I am presently shuffling through my notes, old emails and our home town history book in search of that-which-should-be-included. I am running the final lap and I am still searching.

I have unanswered emails out there that I hope come back to me in time. Maybe 'those' are the words that will put an end to this work-in-progress.

In all honesty, I know the final two words which must go at the end of this book. No, not "The End". The two words which must end my commitment to this piece of work must be "Good Enough". But can I add a P.S.? ... (for now).

So Many Thoughts, So Little Time

I woke up twenty minutes before my alarm this morning and I knew it was too early to get out of bed. So I thought "I will just lay here and think ..." And I did.

The next 'minute', my alarm went off and I was off and running.

I was excited. I had so many thoughts. Which one could I sit down and write about this morning? It was like seeing a buffet full of all of my favorite food items and not knowing where to begin.

But then I realized that the 'buffet' was filled with 'food and beverage items' that only tasted right when shared them with the right person.

Potato skins taste best, when I share an order with my mom; an alcoholic beverage on a hot summer day (or cool fall evening or actually any time at all) when shared with my sisters; a 'Thanksgiving meal' (a phrase my Youngest Son coined, which means I cooked a 'meat and potatoes' kind of meal) with my own little family (any time of the year); appetizers with friends; Boston Pizza with my Bestest Friend ... and the list goes on and on and on.

Sometimes, it is best to savor one course at a time, with those you know best. And that is where my words went this morning.

I had a few emails that were begging to be written and thoughts that 'tasted best' when shared with one friend.

I still have many residual thoughts left over but Real Life is encroaching upon the minutes I have left over. I guess I should have utilized that twenty minutes that I found at the beginning of my day, to do more than think.

Once the day gets rolling and my thoughts get interrupted on a minute-by-minute basis, in my role of the Only Adult Among Children, time for reflection is a rarity. So I take it when I can.

This morning, as I thought my own thoughts, I was at peace. I was eager to face the day ahead of me. I woke up in a place of giving. I had taken care of myself first (sleep! and quiet, reflective-time) and I jumped out of bed with an energy force I don't always feel.

It is hard to know the exact formula for 'Feeling Your Best Self'.

Presently, the weight of my Family Book Project has been lessening, as I have dealt with it more. My advice? Spend five minutes of your day dealing with that-which-has-been-weighing-heaviest-on-your-mind. Sometimes five minutes is too much. Try to do it anyway.

I know it is hard. Hey, it is down right impossible sometimes. If it is impossible, do not spend any energy beating yourself up over it. It is a waste of time and energy. Spend that energy forgiving yourself. The end. You will do it another day. This is coming from someone who took six years to do something that could have just as easily been wrapped up in six months or a year. Could have...

Something was gained by waiting. This book has become more than it would have been if I had rushed it. Don't rush that-which-is-begging-not-to-be-rushed. Believe there is a purpose behind the delay. But do try to take bite sized pieces off the bigger picture. Make your best effort to just do what you can do without resenting it. Resentment can be tasted, felt, read and heard.

Anita Moorjani sums it up best: "When service comes from the center of our being, it’s the highest form of self-love. We know this is the case when we feel joy while serving. It will even feel light and fun! This uplifts both us and the recipient and helps to elevate the receiver’s self worth."

Have fun with your day. It doesn't have to be "Happy" or "Good" or "Perfect" or "Exciting". Just give it your best effort, applaud yourself for 'doing hard things' and make it 'good enough'.

Feeling Light and Energized

The weight of my Family Book Project is lightening and the amount of energy I am starting to feel is a little bit frightening.

I woke up (again) at 5:00 a.m., ready to hop out of bed and start the day. I had not even gone to bed until almost 12:30 a.m. this morning, so even though my brain was saying, "Come on!! Get up!! Let's go and get on with another new day!!!" my body felt like I was suffering from a hangover (not that I would know what that feels like). Or hit by a Mack truck. Or hit by a Mack truck while I was hungover.

While my brain was firing on all cylinders, I let my body rest. For half an hour. That was all my brain would allow. It was like a petulant child whining "Can we get up now? Please?? How about now? Almost? Come on, I wanna get up...."

So I listened to my inner child and got up. Amazingly, I felt pretty darn good. I had tended to all-things-that-needed-tending before I went to bed last night (thus, my late hour) so I woke up to an empty slate. Talk about energizing!

My body was grateful for the extra half hour and I was on my way to a brand new day. "Yee haw!" was the undertone of my thoughts. And I am not even kidding.

I made my morning coffee and smoothie, when suddenly I wondered why my smoothie looked different. My exhausted brain forgot to add the milk. Take "that", brain!! I told you we needed more rest!

[I am using far too many exclamation points this morning. My Youngest Son tells me exclamation points in writing are the equivalent of laughing at your own jokes. I must think I am a riot this morning. !!]

Anyway, back to my tale (the caffeine must be interacting with my brain on hyper-drive and adrenaline because I feel like I have so very much to say) ...

I am feeling very good about the progress I am making with our Book Project. I have enlisted the help of a few family members and it has lightened my load immensely.

Each one of my uncle's chapters came together in its own time and fashion. I think because I didn't push to get them done, each chapter took on its own personality and that 'something special' in its own, unique way from the others.

I had (pretty much) completed five out of the seven Uncle Chapters and was belaboring the last two.

I was still waiting for a family to get back to me on one chapter. The other chapter was 'complete' but it was not yet special.

So ... I contacted my uncle's son yesterday to ask if he would be interested in working his magic with his dad's chapter. This cousin is quite the story teller. By the time he finishes talking you are unsure about what is fact and what is fiction but he makes me laugh. A lot.

I told him "You are such a masterful story teller and all I can think, is your spin on your dad's story could turn it into a real page turner."

He replied "I think I fall under bullshitter" as opposed to "masterful story teller", but thank you."

My reply? "PotAYtoes ... potAHtoes. I can already hear the laughter."

Another cousin is quite literally in the middle of a move but promised to get what she had been working on, off to me as soon as she is able.

My uncle has been an incredible source of encouragement, information, support and answers to my endless questions. I talked to him on the weekend and he has some 'edits' ready to 'FedEx' to me as soon as the post office opens.

With assistance like this, who could ask for more???

Me. That is who. I am not going to say too much here because my family reads this blog and I don't want to let the cat out of the bag until I am certain it is a cat. But, just a little teaser. I asked someone we all know and love a small HUGE (and I mean gigantic!) favor and ... that person said "YES!" I want to give that person an escape clause so I am saying no more at the moment. But it is good. It is really good.

When in the world did I become a person who asks for help? And why in the world does it feel so okay to accept it, when it is given freely? I think it is given freely. Perhaps it is not. Perhaps those very same people could not sleep last night because they said "Yes" when they really and truly wanted to say "Sorry. I just can't at this time". But they didn't sound that way when I talked to/texted/emailed them...

The only thing that could possibly be better is the fact that this Book Project is coming so close to the end.

I puttered, fixed, formatted, edited, moved, shuffled, fact-checked (you name it, I did it) for a good, solid day (and another not so good, broken up day) this past weekend. Last night I was hyped. I was almost dancing in the kitchen. I was telling my son how great this was. I am going to complete this job!!

Then something happened to my document. The document that I had been working on all weekend and had not saved to a back up file or USB stick.

It froze up. It would not allow me to navigate through the pages. The table of contents was all wacky. It kept fast forwarding me to the middle of the book if I pressed the wrong key.

My heart stopped beating for a while. I am not certain but I think I felt my extremities losing their blood. "Oh. No."

I talked myself through the moment. All was not lost. Just the weekend. And even that was not lost because it appeared that I would be able to print off the entire document and go back and make my edits to the document I saved four days ago from the corrected version. But I did not want to do that. But it was possible.

All is not lost. All is not lost. All is not lost.

That is the mantra that went through my brain as my world stood still. I must have looked shaken because my son was calm, cool and collected. He tried to think logically and find the solution. When your child acts like an adult when the ground beneath your feet starts to shake, you know it's serious.

Then I did it. I fixed it. I unlocked my document and all was right in my world again. Then the adrenaline really kicked into hyper-drive.

I kept going for hours after the near loss of my book.

It is so close, I can taste it. And it even tastes good! The end is near and I am ready to let go of my baby. I have not only held onto it during its gestational phase, but I have nurtured it and helped it grow. I sort of feel like the mother who has nursed her child just a few too many years ...

It is going to feel funny to let go and set this book out into the brave new world outside of my own personal computer.

But I think we are ready. Both me and the book.

I was so frustrated with myself for allowing this project to drag on and on. And on. I had a feeling there was a purpose behind its delay. I believe there was.

So very many people have a hand in this project. So many. When people are actually holding it in their hands I think they will feel the community it took to put all of this together. It feels like our whole family is a part of this project and it warms my heart.

It wouldn't have felt this way if I had rushed the process. Or if I had not asked for input and assistance.

I suppose I am tired of being a 'single parent' and there is a part of me that recognizes there is no need to 'raise a child (aka: Book)' on your own, when there are others that are ready, willing and able to help and nurture that 'child' grow to a place where they are standing on their own two feet.

My 'baby' has grown up. I am almost ready to let it go. It is time ....

Looking Up

In and around seven years ago, I forgot how to lull myself back to sleep after waking in the middle of the night.

I was chest-deep in the aftermath of mending a broken heart. Each and every time I woke up, I physically felt that fist-in-my-chest, broken heartedness from the hurt, the betrayal and loss of the life I thought I was going to live.

Television saved me from myself. Each and every time I found something on TV that captured my attention, my thoughts were replaced with the story line of whatever show I was watching. The moment I stopped thinking my own thoughts and my attention was diverted, I fell fast asleep.

This quickly became a habit. As days and weeks turned into months and years, my heart healed and I was no longer haunted by the hurt and the loss of the life I had expected to live. What didn't change was the fact that I could not turn off my thoughts before I went to sleep or when I woke up at night. So I just turned on the TV.

Every now and again, I think that I should try to wean myself out of this habit. Then I wake up and (like a child with their blanket or pacifier or thumb), I am too tired to do anything other than what has worked for me in the past. I turn on the TV, to turn off my thoughts. I love that I can control my brain by erasing my own thoughts on mindless TV.

Once in a blue moon, I wake up and enjoy the thoughts that are floating to the surface in my semi-comatose state of awareness. As long as I don't look at the clock and break the spell, it is quite enjoyable to think without distraction. Every once in a while.

Last night (this morning) was one of those kinds of sleeplessness.

I woke up with my dad's family's story wafting through my mind. I need to finish up those two chapters. What can I personally add to those uncle's stories? What thoughts would I like to write in the 'forward' of the book? Closing thoughts? And so on and so forth.

I awoke again before my alarm went off and I was still revelling in a quiet and happy little place in my mind. Then I started thinking of the many topics that are swirling through my mind. What can I write about this morning? was the theme of my thinking.

I love that I have found my way back (after feeling completely and utterly depleted mid-way through this week) to this place I love. A place of too many thoughts and not enough time. This state of contentedness feels even more blissful than usual because I can contrast and compare where I was two mornings ago.

I spent the past two days (trying to) living the day in front of me, as I was living it. I focused on my Daycare Day and made the most of what I was given. It almost hurt to push myself out of the easy, quiet and safe zone of our home and take my little family out on the road (we walked to school playgrounds that we rarely visit before school starts up again next week).

Getting outside, breathing fresh air and moving is so therapeutic. I don't know if I would have done this, if it was not for my Daycare Kids.

I 'looked up' and away from technology for the better part of those two days. My excuse for being so 'connected' to the Internet world, is that I feel underwhelmed with the conversational skills and repetition of ten hours with 1-1/2 to 3 year olds. I 'need' adult intervention, thus I create diversions for the adult side of my brain. I will text or call or email a friend to satisfy my need to talk in paragraphs, not repetitive phrases. But when I looked up and simply focused on my little people I was highly entertained. Children are so very transparent. I love losing myself in watching a two year old discover his world or a three year old who is playing with her imaginary friend. When our days become too repetitive, these very same moments become fighting-over-a-toy and screaming-a-most-annoying-scream (because someone has grabbed the toy they just grabbed from the other person) or doing-that-which-they-know-they-are-not-supposed-to-do and an entire list of things-kids-do on a regular basis.

Looking up brought me out of my own head and thoughts, and back into the land of the living. I was more present in my day which resulted in feeling much calmer with whatever was unfolding within the moment.

The more I looked up, the more I found my thoughts free-falling through my mind and I was pleased to discover that I keep rediscovering myself within these small, insignificant moments.

Looking up and away from technology saved my week. The state of exhaustion and depletion is all but a distant memory. I am filling up and feeling fulfilled. I am looking forward to putting today behind me (I must work at my bookkeeping job) and immersing myself in my Book Project for the remaining two days of this long weekend.

I woke up, enjoying the thoughts that were wafting through my mind. They were light and easy and introspective.

I woke up to an (almost) uncommitted long weekend. My calendar is empty and my to-do-list is (pretty much) tended. All that needs to be done is to put a cover on that book and I can set my sights on new ideas and goals.

Two more solid weekends of working and whittling away at The Book Project shall put me exactly where I hope to be. That said, my thoughts wafted way to a distant land, away from this blog post. And that is exactly where I must go right now.

May you wake up to a light and easy day of following the lead of your subconscious mind. Tend to the must-do-items on that never ending to-do-list in your mind and join me in a long weekend of fulfilling small dreams. Fill yourself up with whatever you need to nourish your body, mind and soul. Sleep when you need to sleep, eat food that fuels you and immerse yourself in that-which-fits-the-moment.

Happy September Long Weekend! No matter what the weather may or may not be doing, I hope you find a piece of sunshine within your day. Look up!

And with that, I shall add this video (I have seen this before but was in dire need of seeing again):

The After Shock

My vacation-thus-far has been driven by my tentative schedule of expectations-of-myself, appointments, a family reunion and a slight change of plans as our family gathered one more time to attend my aunt's funeral.

All-in-all, it has been a very family oriented holiday, with my down-time (supposedly) invested in assembling my dad's family history book. The gift of this book is the unexpected emails or phone calls or visits from my family. Even when I was savoring the quiet of some unexpected days at home, the time was sprinkled generously with all-things-family.

My mom's extended stay meant that she (and me, by extension) had the time to drop by and visit with each one of my sons and admire their respective works-in-progress within their lives and homes.

I have been immersed in my dad's family's memories (resulting in this bonus company and interaction); a family reunion with Mom, my siblings and their children; my mom's sister's funeral (a reunion of a slightly different nature but a 'reunion' all the same); my own children; and a bonus visit from my brother and his wife (who had been unable to attend our own family reunion).

I have been completely and totally immersed in family - from all sides of our family. It has felt as natural as breathing to be so completely surrounded in family, phone calls and personal contact.

Then suddenly, I walked in the door at the end of my Final Farewell (coffee and a donut on the outskirts of the city) as I saw off my mom, my brother and his wife this afternoon. My heart sunk with a thunk so loud that I think I heard it land on the kitchen floor.

I was home. I stepped back into life-as-I-know-it-and-expect-it--to-be, with no up and coming family reunions or plans or gatherings. I was exactly where I wanted to be. Except I didn't want it to feel this way!

I felt like I was walking through a deep and dark bog as I made my way down the hallway to find the sheets that I needed to wash. One. forward. step. at. a. time. I can do hard things. Just keep moving forward. I kept urging myself.

It was hard work but I was doing it. I had just hit the point in my day where hunger was guiding me and I heard (what I thought was) the sound of a car door closing in close proximity to our kitchen window. And that is exactly what it was!

I was so excited that I could barely contain my joy when I saw my Middle Son and His Girlfriend open the back gate and walk in. "Family! Family!! Oh, how I have missed you so!!" I enthusiastically greeted said son and girlfriend. I think My Son thought he had come to the wrong house. He has never been greeted in such a fashion.

"Come in! Sit down! Do you want a drink? I was just going to make myself some cheese and nachos!!" Hmmm, a joyous greeting, hospitality and the offering of food?!? Just who is this person, My Son must have thought.

My Son, His Girlfriend and Their Two Dogs unofficially moved out (it all started as 'a weekend at the farm' and they simply never came home, other than to pick up mail or what-they-needed ever since) on July 4th. We are almost at our one month anniversary of independent living and I was so lonely for their company. Most especially after the descent back to earth after my family-oriented holiday.

We sat down at the table and visited like long, lost friends. We talked about nothing and something and everything all at the same time. It was lovely.

The flow of words started to slow down and I felt My Son's body language signalling that the time had come for them to say good-bye. But he wasn't saying it. We chatted about things-that-don't-matter for a little while longer. Then he said it, "Are you okay if we leave now? We really have to get home to our puppies..."

Yes, I was fine again. All was right in my world. My globe was back on its axis and spinning ever-so-gently to the rhythm of life-as-I-know-it.

It was time to 'come home' again. Home to the life we live each and every day. I had missed it so. I was so grateful that it - our home, my Youngest Son, our Two Cats and my uncompleted book project were all present and accounted for. I just had to step back in where I last left off.

I can't begin to imagine the void that I will feel when this Family Book Project ends. It will leave a cavern of emptiness in its wake. It has been the best family reunion of all. But it is getting heavy. Very heavy. And I must return to the process of putting the final two words to it (that My Brother so generously offered to me, to finish off the book) "The End".

Except, it will not be The End. It will simply be The Beginning of the next chapter/book of our lives. Life is never-ending. Even when it (seemingly) ends. That is what the (far too many) funerals that I have attended this year has taught me. It is all about the memories.

Make memories whenever you can. Document them in some fashion so that you can leaf back on those happier times when you are feeling a little lost. Cherish those moments-in-time that cost not a penny, but are priceless in their value. For when you are faced with the after shock of living life-as-you-know-it again, you are rich when you have those memories to draw on.

Holidays - Day #3 - Monday

I woke up to face a Monday today.

Monday, while you are on holidays are supposed to be the most marvelous day. It is the day to think "Five minutes from now, my work-day would begin. Instead, here I sit in my pj's, with my third cup of coffee and an empty slate before me ..."

That is what I thought yesterday. And the day before. Today? I have two un-roadworthy cars sitting in the driveway (okay, okay ... the one with a dead battery has been stranded in the garage for about a month). Which one would be cheaper to fix? The one I can't move out of the garage ...

Aaaack!

Then there is the wasp's nest under the front step. Why did they have to move there?? What will happen if I simply ignore them?

There are phone calls to be made, groceries to be bought, menus to organize and errands to be run. Insert sigh of exasperation here.

I know all that I have to do is take one forward step and each and every one of these minute things-to-do will be done and over with. But the kicker is, I have to leave the house to do so. I don't want to leave the house! Not until Wednesday!! I wasn't supposed to have to leave the house until Wednesday.

Hmmmmm...

Maybe, just maybe ... I could stay home today, if I used the car that shimmies and vibrates if I exceed 90 kph, by driving 90 kph or less throughout my holiday. Who wants to go faster than that on a holiday anyway? Really?? Besides, the car does go 100 kph after it warms up to the idea. I can't remember what happens by the time I reach the highway speed of 110 kph. I think I was at my destination before I reached that point.

It may be cheaper to buy a new car battery for the other car.

I wonder if I can do that on Wednesday??

Even on holidays, Mondays kind of suck.

Excuse me while I go and pretend none of this reality exists. I am going to disappear into my room-with-a-door and pretend it is Sunday. I am on holidays. I am allowed!

P.S. At least my laundry is done...