This is a card I received almost 23 years ago,
long before my current love-of-spotting-rabbits phase of life:
My Secret Friend at work surprised me with this one day before a weekend,
my love of "special treats" has not changed.
Somebunny cares!
Showing posts with label gifts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gifts. Show all posts
Monday, September 14, 2020
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Happy
What IS "happy"? I am coming to think of the word happy as a verb. Kind of like the word "love". I prefer to think of both of these words as action words. It feels easier to attain these goals when one thinks of them in the form of a result of one's own actions.
Why do I write this today? Because when it came to titling this post after a long period of silence, "Happy" is the word that came to mind. Not necessarily as a state of mind but as a result of fulfilling something inside of myself that resulted in a state of happiness.
I have often thought our home was so much more than a house. I feel grounded here. I loved what my daycaring years taught me about earning an income from under this very roof. I felt every square inch of our house, garage, playhouse and yard were being utilized. Our home was filled with living, breathing, energetic individuals. This created a state of confusion and chaos at times but all in all, there was a feeling of fulfillment. A feeling that "this is where I am meant to be". No matter what the day had in store, I had the resources to wade through the waves because I was home. I was grounded.
The past three years have had me working outside of our home. It has been challenging but knowing I have this little oasis here on earth awaiting me at the end of my days and weeks makes all things bearable. I am grateful for this place I call home. The tranquility. The state of normal which is routine and predictable. It is my soft place to land. It sustains me.
I have tossed out offers of sharing our home with those who have been in a state of change. We have lots of room. It is peaceful here. You are welcome.
I have made the offer and other than what I think of as my "regular" house guests, no one has taken me up on this offer.
Finally, someone answered "Yes".
This "yes" was multiplied by a number of other guests for one night. My inn was full. Each and every bedroom and spare bed within our home was utilized. Our walls felt happy. These walls were filled with family, friendship, laughter, comfort and joy.
Thankfully one guest stayed on. Our home was available at exactly the right time and place.
It felt absolutely right to offer our home and I was grateful to have one small thing to offer to someone going through a time of uncertainty. A soft place to land.
"If you build it ... they will come" ~ Field of Dreams
It is happening. It may be small. But it is right. I am living in my field of dreams ...
Why do I write this today? Because when it came to titling this post after a long period of silence, "Happy" is the word that came to mind. Not necessarily as a state of mind but as a result of fulfilling something inside of myself that resulted in a state of happiness.
I have often thought our home was so much more than a house. I feel grounded here. I loved what my daycaring years taught me about earning an income from under this very roof. I felt every square inch of our house, garage, playhouse and yard were being utilized. Our home was filled with living, breathing, energetic individuals. This created a state of confusion and chaos at times but all in all, there was a feeling of fulfillment. A feeling that "this is where I am meant to be". No matter what the day had in store, I had the resources to wade through the waves because I was home. I was grounded.
The past three years have had me working outside of our home. It has been challenging but knowing I have this little oasis here on earth awaiting me at the end of my days and weeks makes all things bearable. I am grateful for this place I call home. The tranquility. The state of normal which is routine and predictable. It is my soft place to land. It sustains me.
I have tossed out offers of sharing our home with those who have been in a state of change. We have lots of room. It is peaceful here. You are welcome.
I have made the offer and other than what I think of as my "regular" house guests, no one has taken me up on this offer.
Finally, someone answered "Yes".
This "yes" was multiplied by a number of other guests for one night. My inn was full. Each and every bedroom and spare bed within our home was utilized. Our walls felt happy. These walls were filled with family, friendship, laughter, comfort and joy.
Thankfully one guest stayed on. Our home was available at exactly the right time and place.
It felt absolutely right to offer our home and I was grateful to have one small thing to offer to someone going through a time of uncertainty. A soft place to land.
"If you build it ... they will come" ~ Field of Dreams
It is happening. It may be small. But it is right. I am living in my field of dreams ...
Monday, October 14, 2019
Day of Gratitude
This is a most perfect day to sit back and be grateful. I am home after a most excellent period of focusing on family, friends, gatherings and outings. I am home.
Family. Ours is a special and unique blending of personalities who support, encourage, care, share and laugh together.
I have just returned home from my uncle's 90th birthday and spent the weekend with Dad's brothers, their wives and a few cousins. I am so very grateful I was there. Memories were made, laughter is still ringing in my ears and it was simply a gift to be present and accounted for, to celebrate and acknowledge a most incredibly special man.
My siblings and I have recently had a "Sibling Weekend" together. I don't take this sibling relationship for granted and I am grateful we nurture it by continuing to make time to get together. The easy camaraderie we share is a gift. As we parted ways to return back to our lives in progress, we tossed ideas into the air about "next time" ...
My own little family has been busy leading their own lives, doing their own thing and making their way. We haven't gathered as a family unit for a few months but a tentative un-birthday party to acknowledge all the birthdays that passed by without acknowledgement is in the works. We are still in the process of creating our own piece of family history together but we are off to a good start. I am grateful.
Friends. My uncle's 90th birthday party has me reflecting on the value of good friends. I was at the door as his guests arrived and heard a brief synopsis of how he met and how long he has known some of his friends. Alumni from his university days; people he had worked with; students he befriended; his "Little Brother"; friends through his volunteer work; friends he met through his partner. The common denominator was that all of these friends had a history. It was not uncommon to hear "I've known Harold for 40 [or more] years" or some variation of that throughout the gathering. He is 90 years old and 38 of his close friends gathered to acknowledge the day and there are those who couldn't attend but will come another time. Amazing.
I am blessed with an arsenal of good friends. Lasting relationships take time and investment. Although I don't see my friends on a regular basis I know the friendships are real because when we do get together, it is like picking up from where we last left off. My take-away from the weekend past, is to pick up a pen, send an email or even make the odd phone call. Friendship is a two way street and nurturing the friendships one already has is a very good place to begin.
Health. Mobility. Aging gracefully. These are the little things one takes for granted when you wake up and hop out of bed with ease. This is huge. I am grateful for all of the above. As it is with relationships, one must nurture what one already has. Eating better and moving more are two steps I can take to maintain what I already have.
Peace of mind. I have heard so many people's stories that involve a loved one battling with some variety of mental health. It seems to reach out and touch everyone in some way or another. So many words ... so little to say. It is a hard life out there. To wake up in the morning and feel like one can take on the day is a blessing beyond comprehension. I am grateful.
It has been a busy time and the gremlin inside my head keeps nattering negative little thoughts which has created a bit of an inner battle to fully enjoy all the gifts I've been given. I have taken that negativity, thrown it into the light of day and waged a war with it. I do believe I have tamed the negative Nellie within and I truly believe it all begins with gratitude.
I just want to say "Thank you". Thank you thank you thank you for all I have been given. My job here on earth is to appreciate and nurture everything I already have. I can do that.
I love this day of open gratitude. What are you grateful for today?
"Happy Thanksgiving to all!!"
Monday, August 19, 2019
Best. Day. Ever!!
I was gone from home almost exactly 24 hours. I spent the day with my sisters. It was the best day ever!!
It starts from the moment "go" with these girls I am lucky enough to call sisters. I walked in the door and it was just that easy. All I had to do was show up. And there they were.
I can't begin to think of all we talked about. Everything. Nothing. Everything in between. It felt as though we could have gone on for days simple enjoying each other's company, listening to each other and feeling at ease to talk about anything.
The visit was seasoned generously with laughter and joy. There were serious moments as well. "Just wait! I'm telling a story..." was a line (slightly paraphrased) which encapsulated the relationship we are lucky enough to share. We sat still and listened to each other's stories.
Oh, to be still. To be still and listen. To have someone to sit still and listen to your stories. It is a gift like no other.
I came home and simply wanted to be still with the afterglow of our visit. I didn't want to write. I didn't want to check on messages. I didn't want to vacuum. I simply wanted to hold onto the embers of a most incredible 24 hours.
Our next hope is to take this trio of talkative sisters on the road and meet up with our brother. We hate to think he may be missing out on this family bonding time. We simply want to ensure the four of us continue to nurture this bond we are fortunate enough to share.
It starts from the moment "go" with these girls I am lucky enough to call sisters. I walked in the door and it was just that easy. All I had to do was show up. And there they were.
I can't begin to think of all we talked about. Everything. Nothing. Everything in between. It felt as though we could have gone on for days simple enjoying each other's company, listening to each other and feeling at ease to talk about anything.
The visit was seasoned generously with laughter and joy. There were serious moments as well. "Just wait! I'm telling a story..." was a line (slightly paraphrased) which encapsulated the relationship we are lucky enough to share. We sat still and listened to each other's stories.
Oh, to be still. To be still and listen. To have someone to sit still and listen to your stories. It is a gift like no other.
I came home and simply wanted to be still with the afterglow of our visit. I didn't want to write. I didn't want to check on messages. I didn't want to vacuum. I simply wanted to hold onto the embers of a most incredible 24 hours.
Our next hope is to take this trio of talkative sisters on the road and meet up with our brother. We hate to think he may be missing out on this family bonding time. We simply want to ensure the four of us continue to nurture this bond we are fortunate enough to share.
Suddenly, a line from the movie "Lilo and Stitch" comes to mind:
"Ohana ... means family. Family means no one gets left behind. Or forgotten."
Sunday, July 7, 2019
Rekindling the Fire
I have been scrolling through this Sunday morning trying very hard not to drop down yet another Internet rabbit hole and lose myself and the day along with it. I have given myself until 10:00 a.m. and then I have made the decision to do "one hard thing" for as long as I can do it.
It is a writing assignment I started about a year ago. It was a promise to rewrite some travel journals, put them in date order and make the timeline easy to follow. The purpose was to reignite old memories, stir up new conversations and create a tangible piece of history to have and to hold.
Our thoughts, our memories and the way we retell our stories change over the course of time. There is something about taking a "snapshot" of those words written as one is living them, without a thought these journals may come to mean in the future.
When I reread my old thoughts, written as I was living them, there is something very poignant and raw about the truths behind the written word. Flashes of memories, feelings and perspective ping around within my mind and I am taken back in time.
Holding onto our memories is a gift. Having that history recorded in a journal, pictures or videos is kindling and has the power to reignite the moment.
I'm going to go "start a fire" this morning. It is my hope by completing this little project, it may be the kindling I need to finish other tasks I have only just begun.
It is a writing assignment I started about a year ago. It was a promise to rewrite some travel journals, put them in date order and make the timeline easy to follow. The purpose was to reignite old memories, stir up new conversations and create a tangible piece of history to have and to hold.
Our thoughts, our memories and the way we retell our stories change over the course of time. There is something about taking a "snapshot" of those words written as one is living them, without a thought these journals may come to mean in the future.
When I reread my old thoughts, written as I was living them, there is something very poignant and raw about the truths behind the written word. Flashes of memories, feelings and perspective ping around within my mind and I am taken back in time.
Holding onto our memories is a gift. Having that history recorded in a journal, pictures or videos is kindling and has the power to reignite the moment.
I'm going to go "start a fire" this morning. It is my hope by completing this little project, it may be the kindling I need to finish other tasks I have only just begun.
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
21 Years
Twenty one years ago today, my youngest son was born. As I woke up this morning, thinking of this anniversary, I scrolled through my own personal archives and thought about my own life at the age of twenty one.
By the time I was 21, I had been married, had a baby, divorced, had worked at a bank for three years, bought a townhouse and then remarried my ex-husband. My siblings were ages 32, 30 and 16. All I remember about my actual birthday is that my brother gave me a special birthday gift to commemorate my 21st birthday. Mom was 53 years old; Dad was 56.
I lived a very sheltered and protected life until I married. I had a lot of life lessons thrown at me in a short period of time but thanks to a strong and supportive family, I weathered the storms and came out standing. I had lived a lifetime by the time I was 21.
I look at my youngest son and I see myself before the world started teaching me "all I needed to know". I look at my younger self and the words young, naive and impressionable come to mind. If someone had told me what was to come, I may have locked myself in a room and never come out. I wouldn't have thought I could handle it.
We all have different lessons to learn, new roads to travel and challenges that are unique to each one of us.
I look at my son and I am pleased. I like him. I like his style. I like his quiet demeanor which masks the deepness of his thoughts and his perspective of life. I see bits and pieces of the best of the people within his world intertwined within him, mixed with the essence that is "him" and I enjoy the person he has become and is becoming.
My biggest concern is wondering how he will weather the storms of life. He has had some tests but I know there will be more. He is a sensitive soul. He watches the world around him, listens with his whole being and his interpretation of life as he sees it opens my eyes.
None of us can predict the future that is headed our way. My biggest wish for him is that no matter where life takes him, he will have the ability to weather life's storms and come out standing. I want him to feel the strength and support of family. I hope he feels safe within his world and will always know he has a soft place to fall here within our home and family.
He is the youngest of three brothers with a twenty year age span which separates them. What I am liking best about the age he has become, is that he is starting to "catch up" with his older brothers. His brothers and him are doing things together which is starting to forge a stronger bond in their brotherhood. I didn't "catch up" with my older sisters until I became an adult and now the years that separated us don't even exist. I hope this bond grows and strengthens over the years to come.
They say that joy is doubled when it is shared and sorrow is halved. In good times and in bad, it is good to know you have a support system in place to cheer you on, cheer you up and encourage you through whatever moment you may be going through.
The wish I have for my youngest son is a wish I share with all three of my boys. I wish them a strong sense of themselves, grounded in what I hope is a strong sense of family. I wish for roots to ground them, while reaching for the stars and retaining the ability to hope for the remainder of their lifetime. I wish them a solid community of family, friends, support systems and a resilience that will carry them through the rough patches life will inevitably throw their way.
I believe one of the best gifts Mom and Dad gave me is a strong sense of family and community. Mom and her story-telling led to the gift of collecting family memories which was the best way to infiltrate myself within the family and get to know everyone a little bit better. I was 47 years old when I started collecting family stories and history. It was then, when I started to feel my roots strengthen enough to hold me solid no matter what storms came to pass after that time.
The moral to this story is: No matter what age you are presently at, you must hold onto the belief that the best is yet to come. The best comes veiled in so very many ways and it is seldom a straight path. If you didn't have the struggle, you wouldn't appreciate the outcome. The best outcomes usually came after the hardest struggles.
You've come a long way, my son. I believe in you. I see your strength and though I wish I could wish only good things for you, I know the best parts of my life were a result of the hardest of struggles. Hold onto that knowledge and let it ground you when the going gets rough. Keep looking up, my son. The best is yet to come...
By the time I was 21, I had been married, had a baby, divorced, had worked at a bank for three years, bought a townhouse and then remarried my ex-husband. My siblings were ages 32, 30 and 16. All I remember about my actual birthday is that my brother gave me a special birthday gift to commemorate my 21st birthday. Mom was 53 years old; Dad was 56.
I lived a very sheltered and protected life until I married. I had a lot of life lessons thrown at me in a short period of time but thanks to a strong and supportive family, I weathered the storms and came out standing. I had lived a lifetime by the time I was 21.
I look at my youngest son and I see myself before the world started teaching me "all I needed to know". I look at my younger self and the words young, naive and impressionable come to mind. If someone had told me what was to come, I may have locked myself in a room and never come out. I wouldn't have thought I could handle it.
We all have different lessons to learn, new roads to travel and challenges that are unique to each one of us.
I look at my son and I am pleased. I like him. I like his style. I like his quiet demeanor which masks the deepness of his thoughts and his perspective of life. I see bits and pieces of the best of the people within his world intertwined within him, mixed with the essence that is "him" and I enjoy the person he has become and is becoming.
My biggest concern is wondering how he will weather the storms of life. He has had some tests but I know there will be more. He is a sensitive soul. He watches the world around him, listens with his whole being and his interpretation of life as he sees it opens my eyes.
None of us can predict the future that is headed our way. My biggest wish for him is that no matter where life takes him, he will have the ability to weather life's storms and come out standing. I want him to feel the strength and support of family. I hope he feels safe within his world and will always know he has a soft place to fall here within our home and family.
He is the youngest of three brothers with a twenty year age span which separates them. What I am liking best about the age he has become, is that he is starting to "catch up" with his older brothers. His brothers and him are doing things together which is starting to forge a stronger bond in their brotherhood. I didn't "catch up" with my older sisters until I became an adult and now the years that separated us don't even exist. I hope this bond grows and strengthens over the years to come.
They say that joy is doubled when it is shared and sorrow is halved. In good times and in bad, it is good to know you have a support system in place to cheer you on, cheer you up and encourage you through whatever moment you may be going through.
The wish I have for my youngest son is a wish I share with all three of my boys. I wish them a strong sense of themselves, grounded in what I hope is a strong sense of family. I wish for roots to ground them, while reaching for the stars and retaining the ability to hope for the remainder of their lifetime. I wish them a solid community of family, friends, support systems and a resilience that will carry them through the rough patches life will inevitably throw their way.
I believe one of the best gifts Mom and Dad gave me is a strong sense of family and community. Mom and her story-telling led to the gift of collecting family memories which was the best way to infiltrate myself within the family and get to know everyone a little bit better. I was 47 years old when I started collecting family stories and history. It was then, when I started to feel my roots strengthen enough to hold me solid no matter what storms came to pass after that time.
The moral to this story is: No matter what age you are presently at, you must hold onto the belief that the best is yet to come. The best comes veiled in so very many ways and it is seldom a straight path. If you didn't have the struggle, you wouldn't appreciate the outcome. The best outcomes usually came after the hardest struggles.
You've come a long way, my son. I believe in you. I see your strength and though I wish I could wish only good things for you, I know the best parts of my life were a result of the hardest of struggles. Hold onto that knowledge and let it ground you when the going gets rough. Keep looking up, my son. The best is yet to come...
Monday, June 3, 2019
Moments to Behold
It's Monday morning and I am simply grateful to be sitting still in the quiet of the morning. It's been a rather people-oriented weekend and I have very few words left over.
It was a very good weekend. It was full of everything good. Yet as I wake up into this brand new work week, these are the moments that sift to the top:
Spotting a black cat (no, it wasn't either of our cats) in a flower bed, ignoring the magpies that were harrassing him. I took one look at this cat's familiar expression and I thought, "I love black cat's personalities!" I haven't met a black cat I haven't liked. The demeanor of this cool black cat, as he brushed off the attention he was getting from the magpies? Perfection.
We came upon this perfect little scene as we walked around a man-made water lake at a park. It melted my heart and I could have simply sat still and gazed at these little critters for hours.
I dubbed the lead goose as Mother Goose and the one bringing up the rear as Father. I have no idea if that is the truth or not. It is simply the story I made up in my head as I breathed in the moment.
I drove home from my day trip just as the sun was beginning to set. I was watchful for any wildlife who may be crossing the highway and just as I was making my turn, I saw a young moose thinking about whether or not to dart across. I slowed down to give both of us ample time to react and he decided to turn around and head back into the field. Smart moose.
I love watching nature unfold before my eyes. Acting and reacting to life instinctively. Pure and simple.
Humans are so complicated...but that is a story for another day.
It was a very good weekend. It was full of everything good. Yet as I wake up into this brand new work week, these are the moments that sift to the top:
Spotting a black cat (no, it wasn't either of our cats) in a flower bed, ignoring the magpies that were harrassing him. I took one look at this cat's familiar expression and I thought, "I love black cat's personalities!" I haven't met a black cat I haven't liked. The demeanor of this cool black cat, as he brushed off the attention he was getting from the magpies? Perfection.
We came upon this perfect little scene as we walked around a man-made water lake at a park. It melted my heart and I could have simply sat still and gazed at these little critters for hours.
I dubbed the lead goose as Mother Goose and the one bringing up the rear as Father. I have no idea if that is the truth or not. It is simply the story I made up in my head as I breathed in the moment.
The protective nature of the two adults doesn't change as they enter the water. Isn't nature amazing?
Meanwhile, on the other side of the path are the geese that decided against going out for a mid-afternoon swim. Four adults stayed on shore, with one of them clearly appointed as "Lookout"
One more ... isn't this adorable?
I drove home from my day trip just as the sun was beginning to set. I was watchful for any wildlife who may be crossing the highway and just as I was making my turn, I saw a young moose thinking about whether or not to dart across. I slowed down to give both of us ample time to react and he decided to turn around and head back into the field. Smart moose.
I love watching nature unfold before my eyes. Acting and reacting to life instinctively. Pure and simple.
Humans are so complicated...but that is a story for another day.
Thursday, May 23, 2019
The Gift of an Unremarkable Life
Wow! That is all I can think to say. When we wake up to a day, knowing our body, mind and soul connections are all intact, life is good.
I spend my days with seniors. Yesterday had some particularly poignant "senior moments".
How does it feel to be living within a body that is wearing out? When one's mind is keen but the body begins to fail, it must be a hard thing for the mind to reconcile.
How does it feel to live within a body that is weathering the years pretty well but the mind begins to fail? Memories from long ago remain but what happened a few minutes ago is lost. The awareness of the loss of those short term memories and impending loss of independence must be hard for a failing mind to take in.
How does it feel to make plans to be with a life long friend for an upcoming date but that friend dies before you make it out to see them? You do all the right things, you keep in touch with people who are part of your life, but life and death happens. You must learn to follow your instincts, to follow through with hope but be prepared for anything.
The truth of the matter is that any of the above could happen to any one of us at any time. No one is immune to the wear and tear of a body, an unexpected accident, a brain injury or the certainty that tomorrow will unfold in the manner in which we expect.
As I live my quiet little repetitive life, I hope I never ever forget to be grateful for each day that unfolds much like the day that preceded it. Minor inconveniences, mood swings and unexpected twists and turns are much like the weather. Life happens and there is little one can do to control the outcome of the "big stuff". We just need to remind ourselves to be grateful for an unremarkable day.
By "ourselves", I mean "me". I have had some pretty minor inconveniences taking up space in my brain lately. I feel pretty fortunate to have what I have. For as long as I get to hold onto "this", I shall come back to this thought and remind myself of the options. As my wise mom once said, "Things are never so bad that they couldn't be worse".
Life is good. It is very, very good. Things are never so good that they couldn't be better is the flip side of Mom's quote. So I will just keep my eye on the present day and accept it for what it is. A gift.
I spend my days with seniors. Yesterday had some particularly poignant "senior moments".
How does it feel to be living within a body that is wearing out? When one's mind is keen but the body begins to fail, it must be a hard thing for the mind to reconcile.
How does it feel to live within a body that is weathering the years pretty well but the mind begins to fail? Memories from long ago remain but what happened a few minutes ago is lost. The awareness of the loss of those short term memories and impending loss of independence must be hard for a failing mind to take in.
How does it feel to make plans to be with a life long friend for an upcoming date but that friend dies before you make it out to see them? You do all the right things, you keep in touch with people who are part of your life, but life and death happens. You must learn to follow your instincts, to follow through with hope but be prepared for anything.
The truth of the matter is that any of the above could happen to any one of us at any time. No one is immune to the wear and tear of a body, an unexpected accident, a brain injury or the certainty that tomorrow will unfold in the manner in which we expect.
As I live my quiet little repetitive life, I hope I never ever forget to be grateful for each day that unfolds much like the day that preceded it. Minor inconveniences, mood swings and unexpected twists and turns are much like the weather. Life happens and there is little one can do to control the outcome of the "big stuff". We just need to remind ourselves to be grateful for an unremarkable day.
By "ourselves", I mean "me". I have had some pretty minor inconveniences taking up space in my brain lately. I feel pretty fortunate to have what I have. For as long as I get to hold onto "this", I shall come back to this thought and remind myself of the options. As my wise mom once said, "Things are never so bad that they couldn't be worse".
Life is good. It is very, very good. Things are never so good that they couldn't be better is the flip side of Mom's quote. So I will just keep my eye on the present day and accept it for what it is. A gift.
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Excuses, Brain Fog and Gratitude
Writing must be done before the rest of the world creeps into the day. Honestly, I think the biggest barrier between me and my place here in the land of writing out loud, is the fact that I stopped waking up early enough to carve out time alone in the morning.
I wake up, turn on the TV, fall back to sleep and get out of bed at least a half hour later than I could have if I would have simply put my feet on the floor instead of hitting the power button on the remote control.
I have turned to puzzles in an effort to wake up my sluggish brain. Two cups of coffee and a raft of word puzzles, added to my new addiction to Suduko eats up the next hour.
I'm worried about my brain. It is lethargic, foggy and isn't remembering as much as it used to.
I've stopped noticing things. Am I the only person who can walk across a parking lot, enter a building and the moment someone asks what the weather is like, reply "Hmmm, I didn't really notice"?
It takes energy to remember the day, the date, the month and the season. Is this because I'm working in the bookkeeping business and always working in the "last fiscal year" or balancing to a date in the past? I hope so.
I'm living in my own head so much that I forget to peek out of myself and notice the world around me. I have conversations with people and don't ask them about what is going on in their life. Then when I do, I forget to remember what they said.
I start one thing, get distracted and think of three other things I should be doing. At the end of a day I truly wonder what I have accomplished. I am just now remembering what I forgot to do two days ago.
This brain fog is concerning to me and as a result of that, I signed up to take a course on dementia. The upside of that, is that I am doing well on the assignments/exams to date. So while I'm learning about the possibility of the fact that there could be some grey matter in my brain that could be dying off, I am relieved to know I am still capable of learning and repeating some of what is new to me.
The brain is complicated and frightening when you really think about it. For that matter, so is one's entire body. When you think about the way each organ within our body depends on the others, it is truly a miracle we wake up each morning. When you think of the many functions our brain has, it is should not be a surprise that some of those excess thoughts get lost in the busyness of living a day.
When you think about anything too hard, it is amazing how smoothly things run. Even when things are not running smoothly.
The body's ability to heal, to overcome, to compensate and do what we ask it to do day after day, year after year, decade after decade is nothing short of miraculous. We are walking miracles! It is better to wake up with that thought in mind, than it is to turn on the TV which tends to turn off my brain.
Waking up each morning should feel like a gift. A celebration. Creating a life you are grateful to be living is another thing. I've been working on that. I've been working on that a lot.
Life has been busy. I feel like I'm wearing out my brain. The neurons may not be firing as quickly as they once did but I'm grateful they are doing as well as they are.
I have been given the gift of (most of) a day off. It is up to me to make the most of what I've been given. Shall I study for the exam I have scheduled for next week? Should I sign up for another course to keep exercising my brain? Should I spend the day running a few errands? Or taking a "cat day" just to sit back, watch the birds and all of the dust particles wafting around in the air?
Maybe I'll do a little bit of everything, maybe I won't. This day is a gift. This body that carries me around from "A" to "B" and back again, day after day is pretty amazing. My brain is a little tired though. Maybe I'll give my brain a "cat day" and spur my body into action so I can get out of my head and enjoy the day.
May you make the best of what today brings you. Take time to look up and out of your regularly scheduled life to enjoy the moment and find gratitude in the little things. This is the email which found its way to me this week:
I wake up, turn on the TV, fall back to sleep and get out of bed at least a half hour later than I could have if I would have simply put my feet on the floor instead of hitting the power button on the remote control.
I have turned to puzzles in an effort to wake up my sluggish brain. Two cups of coffee and a raft of word puzzles, added to my new addiction to Suduko eats up the next hour.
I'm worried about my brain. It is lethargic, foggy and isn't remembering as much as it used to.
I've stopped noticing things. Am I the only person who can walk across a parking lot, enter a building and the moment someone asks what the weather is like, reply "Hmmm, I didn't really notice"?
It takes energy to remember the day, the date, the month and the season. Is this because I'm working in the bookkeeping business and always working in the "last fiscal year" or balancing to a date in the past? I hope so.
I'm living in my own head so much that I forget to peek out of myself and notice the world around me. I have conversations with people and don't ask them about what is going on in their life. Then when I do, I forget to remember what they said.
I start one thing, get distracted and think of three other things I should be doing. At the end of a day I truly wonder what I have accomplished. I am just now remembering what I forgot to do two days ago.
This brain fog is concerning to me and as a result of that, I signed up to take a course on dementia. The upside of that, is that I am doing well on the assignments/exams to date. So while I'm learning about the possibility of the fact that there could be some grey matter in my brain that could be dying off, I am relieved to know I am still capable of learning and repeating some of what is new to me.
The brain is complicated and frightening when you really think about it. For that matter, so is one's entire body. When you think about the way each organ within our body depends on the others, it is truly a miracle we wake up each morning. When you think of the many functions our brain has, it is should not be a surprise that some of those excess thoughts get lost in the busyness of living a day.
When you think about anything too hard, it is amazing how smoothly things run. Even when things are not running smoothly.
The body's ability to heal, to overcome, to compensate and do what we ask it to do day after day, year after year, decade after decade is nothing short of miraculous. We are walking miracles! It is better to wake up with that thought in mind, than it is to turn on the TV which tends to turn off my brain.
Waking up each morning should feel like a gift. A celebration. Creating a life you are grateful to be living is another thing. I've been working on that. I've been working on that a lot.
Life has been busy. I feel like I'm wearing out my brain. The neurons may not be firing as quickly as they once did but I'm grateful they are doing as well as they are.
I have been given the gift of (most of) a day off. It is up to me to make the most of what I've been given. Shall I study for the exam I have scheduled for next week? Should I sign up for another course to keep exercising my brain? Should I spend the day running a few errands? Or taking a "cat day" just to sit back, watch the birds and all of the dust particles wafting around in the air?
Maybe I'll do a little bit of everything, maybe I won't. This day is a gift. This body that carries me around from "A" to "B" and back again, day after day is pretty amazing. My brain is a little tired though. Maybe I'll give my brain a "cat day" and spur my body into action so I can get out of my head and enjoy the day.
May you make the best of what today brings you. Take time to look up and out of your regularly scheduled life to enjoy the moment and find gratitude in the little things. This is the email which found its way to me this week:
Photo compliments of my GratiTuesday email from Project Happiness
Take one dose of gratitude and I hope to see you in the morning!
Monday, May 9, 2016
The Gift of a Weekend Well Spent
There is no place I'd rather be, than "home". Perhaps this is a gift I learned to appreciate from my mom. I remember the years when "going back home" was where I would have much rather been.
This past weekend, I "went back home" to take Mom out for a Mother's Day breakfast. It was hard to push myself out of my brand new back door, but it was good. I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha.com:
http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6545028-the-gift-of-a-weekend-well-spent/
This past weekend, I "went back home" to take Mom out for a Mother's Day breakfast. It was hard to push myself out of my brand new back door, but it was good. I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha.com:
http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6545028-the-gift-of-a-weekend-well-spent/
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Reflections from Christmas Present
It is almost "all but a memory" now. Christmas Present will soon be Christmas Past and I can carry on living my happy little life in the moment. The place I most like to be.
My trip to see Mom couldn't have went much better.
It was summer-like driving conditions, in winter weather. No drifting snow, no ice, no worries. It was a very carefree and easy drive.
The visit was very much the same.
I thought my stay may feel too long without the added company of one or the other of my adult children along. But it felt like the perfect amount of time with an ideal amount of distractions.
Mom cooked a turkey meal and preparing for that filled in the cracks of the "day before". Preparing a meal doesn't even feel like work when you divide the job in two. She filled her table for six and commented that she had enough dinnerware for "two more". And I quietly thought of how much my family would have enjoyed sharing that meal.
The day after the big meal was spent hanging out at the mall. A light breakfast and a stroll down the mall just looking at things and buying nothing was a most leisurely way to pass the time. A few more stops were made before we took a coffee break on our way home. I'm not certain how many hours we passed out of the house but it felt like the perfect amount of time.
The exhaustion that seemed to wash over Mom in preparation for her big meal was replaced by an energy that seemed to come from a place of "a job well done". She gathered and fed her family a Christmas meal and her work was done.
I had the chance to see a few friends and we managed to pack in a day's worth of visiting into the hours we had at our disposal. These friends go back so many years and we share so much history. We have walked such parallel paths, we are kindred spirits and our friendship is one of the sisterhood variety.
No gifts were exchanged, other than the assortment of my "favorite things" I packed up in a plain, brown bag and gave to Mom. In reality, I didn't need that package at all. All I had to do was pick up what I noticed Mom needed and listen for cues as to what she wanted while I was there and that was truly my gift. She really, really doesn't like shopping. But I don't think she would mind a little grocery/household elf to survey her house at night and just fill it with what is lacking so she could find it when she needed it. I made an attempt to be that "elf" and it felt good. It felt right.
I made my way home and the long road to Mom's became shorter as I made my way back. Thoughts of my visit wafted in and out and through my mind. No one thought sat still. They moved and shifted and shifted like the landscape I drove past.
I returned home and all was well. I opened the door and our two cats were there to greet me and my youngest was hot on their tails. The cats did their "I didn't miss you!" but "Where in the world were you?!" and "I'm mad at you" but "I still love you" routine. They didn't need me. My youngest tended to all their physical and emotional needs in my absence. I'm just the person who buys the cat food and cat litter.
I am the little grocery/household elf in this house. I am appreciated as needs are quietly fulfilled, supplies are replenished and more often than not what we need is at our fingertips.
Our life and household runs pretty smoothly. So smoothly, I can walk away for a few days and these guys just pick up my slack and when I return, I just have to pick up where I last left off and carry on.
I have a very good life to come home to. I think of one of my sister-friends whose life is in a complete state of upheaval, renewal, loss, change and evolution as I sit here and write. I think of my other friend who described the scene in her home one short hour before we met for supper. I looked at her in amazement that she walked out the door like everything was perfect in her world. She just replied, "That's just a day in my life..."
I lead such a "bubble wrapped" existence. All is calm, all is bright, I am surrounded by people who value me, believe in me and support me when I'm down. I work for and with people who appreciate me. There is so much contentment within the core of my being. I have strong bonds with the people within my world.
I found myself reflecting on the relationships I was unable to sustain throughout my adult years and I am starting to see the common thread. At one time I gave myself away. I gave all I had until I was empty. When I was empty, the relationships died. These days I don't give myself away. I share what I have. I do my best to plant what has "gone to seed" in my life and hope those seeds can grow in someone else's garden.
I don't give until I am empty any more. I keep trying to keep myself nourished so I can continue to share what I have. My nourishment comes from a place of quiet.
I have one more day to push through and then I can nourish myself. And our cats. Perhaps my son will join us.
"Jet" (our young and "I'll take all you have to give" cat) just tried to jump up on my lap a few minutes ago. "Tomorrow", I said to him. Tomorrow, we will have a cat day. Tomorrow, we will fill up on all things light and easy and simple and just breathe in the same air. Tomorrow, I will be still. I will make turkey soup with the turkey bones Mom sent home with me. It will be a "Turkey Soup for the Soul" kind of day.
Take some time to nourish your soul today. I am stealing this time this morning when I should be working on something else. It all works out in the end. If I don't "feed myself" I have nothing to give. I am hopeful that by taking this time, the one project left undone will come together with ease when I return from my work day this afternoon.
One more hard day to go. Just one ...
My trip to see Mom couldn't have went much better.
It was summer-like driving conditions, in winter weather. No drifting snow, no ice, no worries. It was a very carefree and easy drive.
The visit was very much the same.
I thought my stay may feel too long without the added company of one or the other of my adult children along. But it felt like the perfect amount of time with an ideal amount of distractions.
Mom cooked a turkey meal and preparing for that filled in the cracks of the "day before". Preparing a meal doesn't even feel like work when you divide the job in two. She filled her table for six and commented that she had enough dinnerware for "two more". And I quietly thought of how much my family would have enjoyed sharing that meal.
The day after the big meal was spent hanging out at the mall. A light breakfast and a stroll down the mall just looking at things and buying nothing was a most leisurely way to pass the time. A few more stops were made before we took a coffee break on our way home. I'm not certain how many hours we passed out of the house but it felt like the perfect amount of time.
The exhaustion that seemed to wash over Mom in preparation for her big meal was replaced by an energy that seemed to come from a place of "a job well done". She gathered and fed her family a Christmas meal and her work was done.
I had the chance to see a few friends and we managed to pack in a day's worth of visiting into the hours we had at our disposal. These friends go back so many years and we share so much history. We have walked such parallel paths, we are kindred spirits and our friendship is one of the sisterhood variety.
No gifts were exchanged, other than the assortment of my "favorite things" I packed up in a plain, brown bag and gave to Mom. In reality, I didn't need that package at all. All I had to do was pick up what I noticed Mom needed and listen for cues as to what she wanted while I was there and that was truly my gift. She really, really doesn't like shopping. But I don't think she would mind a little grocery/household elf to survey her house at night and just fill it with what is lacking so she could find it when she needed it. I made an attempt to be that "elf" and it felt good. It felt right.
I made my way home and the long road to Mom's became shorter as I made my way back. Thoughts of my visit wafted in and out and through my mind. No one thought sat still. They moved and shifted and shifted like the landscape I drove past.
I returned home and all was well. I opened the door and our two cats were there to greet me and my youngest was hot on their tails. The cats did their "I didn't miss you!" but "Where in the world were you?!" and "I'm mad at you" but "I still love you" routine. They didn't need me. My youngest tended to all their physical and emotional needs in my absence. I'm just the person who buys the cat food and cat litter.
I am the little grocery/household elf in this house. I am appreciated as needs are quietly fulfilled, supplies are replenished and more often than not what we need is at our fingertips.
Our life and household runs pretty smoothly. So smoothly, I can walk away for a few days and these guys just pick up my slack and when I return, I just have to pick up where I last left off and carry on.
I have a very good life to come home to. I think of one of my sister-friends whose life is in a complete state of upheaval, renewal, loss, change and evolution as I sit here and write. I think of my other friend who described the scene in her home one short hour before we met for supper. I looked at her in amazement that she walked out the door like everything was perfect in her world. She just replied, "That's just a day in my life..."
I lead such a "bubble wrapped" existence. All is calm, all is bright, I am surrounded by people who value me, believe in me and support me when I'm down. I work for and with people who appreciate me. There is so much contentment within the core of my being. I have strong bonds with the people within my world.
I found myself reflecting on the relationships I was unable to sustain throughout my adult years and I am starting to see the common thread. At one time I gave myself away. I gave all I had until I was empty. When I was empty, the relationships died. These days I don't give myself away. I share what I have. I do my best to plant what has "gone to seed" in my life and hope those seeds can grow in someone else's garden.
I don't give until I am empty any more. I keep trying to keep myself nourished so I can continue to share what I have. My nourishment comes from a place of quiet.
I have one more day to push through and then I can nourish myself. And our cats. Perhaps my son will join us.
"Jet" (our young and "I'll take all you have to give" cat) just tried to jump up on my lap a few minutes ago. "Tomorrow", I said to him. Tomorrow, we will have a cat day. Tomorrow, we will fill up on all things light and easy and simple and just breathe in the same air. Tomorrow, I will be still. I will make turkey soup with the turkey bones Mom sent home with me. It will be a "Turkey Soup for the Soul" kind of day.
Take some time to nourish your soul today. I am stealing this time this morning when I should be working on something else. It all works out in the end. If I don't "feed myself" I have nothing to give. I am hopeful that by taking this time, the one project left undone will come together with ease when I return from my work day this afternoon.
One more hard day to go. Just one ...
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Giving Until it Hurts
I did my part and donated towards a worthy cause yesterday, but it didn't "hurt". I know my giving is coming from the right place when it stings a little.
I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha: "Giving Until it Hurts". http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6205892-giving-until-it-hurts/
I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha: "Giving Until it Hurts". http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6205892-giving-until-it-hurts/
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Waking Up to the Month of December
Flipping the calendar page is an onerous task on a regular, ordinary month. Turning the next page on the calendar and finding the month "December" staring me in the face is daunting.
When I woke up to a new month this morning, I went about my business updating bank books, expense sheets, submitting income reports and tied up the month for my daycare. Then I went to physically turn the page on the calendar and was assaulted by the month "December".
How could this happen so quickly? December = Christmas. Though my Christmas preparations are few, they are time consuming. Have I left myself enough time to do what I want to do before the year's end?
I like to come up with a yearbook as my gift to my daycare families. I haven't even started.
I still send Christmas cards and letters, an age old tradition which (I hope) makes up for my lack of baking, gifts and the Christmas socialization that I tend to avoid. Give me a quiet afternoon with a pen, a bunch of empty cards, a healthy supply of stamps and an endless supply of coffee over a Christmas party or gathering any day of the year.
In the past, I've tried to come up with a personalized gift for my children but they aren't quite at the place in their lives where they appreciate my efforts so that has gone by the wayside.
My idea well has run dry and my personalized gifts to others have dwindled down to next to nothing. I'm starting to feel like a shrivelled up old prune as time goes by. In giving less, I feel less motivated and the well runs even drier.
The more I "create", the more creative I become. The more I give, more I have to give. Walking into a department store and spending money on things that no one really wants or needs is not where the "giving" is at for me. It is in the things that money cannot buy where my truest spirit of giving lies.
I used to feel more creative and "Christmasy" once upon a lifetime ago. Now I utilize the Christmas season as an excuse to push me into what I should be doing all along. Keeping in touch with family and friends and an annual recap of events for my daycare families.
I hope I have left enough white space on my December calendar so I can hang up a few strings of white lights and let the words flow. So far, so good. Maybe I should string up a strand of those white lights tonight to start me on my way to create a little of the light and peace which soothes my soul and spurs me into action. If I don't nourish that which feeds my soul, I will continue to dry up and could end up like that wrinkled old prune (literally and figuratively) sooner than I think. I hope it's not too late...
When I woke up to a new month this morning, I went about my business updating bank books, expense sheets, submitting income reports and tied up the month for my daycare. Then I went to physically turn the page on the calendar and was assaulted by the month "December".
How could this happen so quickly? December = Christmas. Though my Christmas preparations are few, they are time consuming. Have I left myself enough time to do what I want to do before the year's end?
I like to come up with a yearbook as my gift to my daycare families. I haven't even started.
I still send Christmas cards and letters, an age old tradition which (I hope) makes up for my lack of baking, gifts and the Christmas socialization that I tend to avoid. Give me a quiet afternoon with a pen, a bunch of empty cards, a healthy supply of stamps and an endless supply of coffee over a Christmas party or gathering any day of the year.
In the past, I've tried to come up with a personalized gift for my children but they aren't quite at the place in their lives where they appreciate my efforts so that has gone by the wayside.
My idea well has run dry and my personalized gifts to others have dwindled down to next to nothing. I'm starting to feel like a shrivelled up old prune as time goes by. In giving less, I feel less motivated and the well runs even drier.
The more I "create", the more creative I become. The more I give, more I have to give. Walking into a department store and spending money on things that no one really wants or needs is not where the "giving" is at for me. It is in the things that money cannot buy where my truest spirit of giving lies.
I used to feel more creative and "Christmasy" once upon a lifetime ago. Now I utilize the Christmas season as an excuse to push me into what I should be doing all along. Keeping in touch with family and friends and an annual recap of events for my daycare families.
I hope I have left enough white space on my December calendar so I can hang up a few strings of white lights and let the words flow. So far, so good. Maybe I should string up a strand of those white lights tonight to start me on my way to create a little of the light and peace which soothes my soul and spurs me into action. If I don't nourish that which feeds my soul, I will continue to dry up and could end up like that wrinkled old prune (literally and figuratively) sooner than I think. I hope it's not too late...
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
The Wide Open Door of Friendship
A few weeks ago I made a public declaration that I wished for more "depth" within the conversations in my world. I felt I was living in a superficial world and I was depleted by having to try so hard to sustain a conversation. Mere days after that blog post, the depth I was looking for was everywhere.
I have been inundated with attention due to my birthday this past week which has spurred on a great deal of contact with those who touch my world. It has been a little bit incredible because the depth of the conversations and visits I have had has been a gift.
I have a few friends that I see once or twice a year. We always part ways promising to get together more often but life happens and the next thing we know, we are celebrating one or the other or both of our birthdays with the hope of "doing this more often" during the (next) following year.
Each time we get together for that annual birthday supper, I quietly wonder "Are they just doing this to be polite?" "Have we drifted apart and out of each other's lives to hold a conversation?" Even friends I see more often than that get busy and I always fear the day when we may realize we don't connect on the same level that we once did.
Then it happens. We get together and share nourishment and "coffee" (or a coffee substitute) and the words flow effortlessly. The next thing I know, three or four hours have passed and it has felt like the blink of an eye.
These conversations are real and deep and two-sided. Each and every time I sat down with a friend, I heard myself monologuing and I knew it had to stop. Then before I knew it, it was my friend's turn to take the role of being front and centre within our conversation. It worked both ways. I could feel the act of being listened to and I know I was captivated as I listened to the other end of this conversation.
Our lives are so multifaceted and diverse that I found a parallel existence within each and every conversation I had. One of my friends has a son a year younger than me and each of them were going through a similar "crisis" or time of great challenge at the same time this past spring. And the very day we spoke, they had an almost identical out-of-school experience. My friend looked me in the eye and said, "How do you handle this?" "What are you going to do?" and I answered honestly and in real time. Because that very conversation awaited me the moment I got home. Even though our sons are practically the same age, this is her oldest son. This is my third and youngest son. I spoke from a place of making many errors along the way of parenting. The timing of our annual supper was eerily impeccable. There was no one else I would have rather been talking to that evening and the feeling felt reciprocated.
The stories and relate-able tales I have to tell are long and varied and specific to the friend who sat before me. Each one of us opened up and told our story honestly and without filter. Our conversations were filled with a sense of trusting the other guy with your whole self. There were no holds barred. We were real with each other and the conversations took off and became meaningful, deep and they made my knees shake.
I am absolutely blessed with friendships which transcend "Facebook" and virtual and superficiality. I may not see them often or talk like a wide open book each time our paths cross but I think we both know the door is always open.
I wished for it and it came. "If you open the door to friendship, they will walk through and enter." The key word is "open". No holds barred. Trust, honesty, vulnerability and openness are good ingredients to add to a conversation you want to go below the surface.
My friends, you are such a big part of me. Even in your absence, knowing our next conversation will pick up where we last left off is all I need. I hope you feel the same way.
I have been inundated with attention due to my birthday this past week which has spurred on a great deal of contact with those who touch my world. It has been a little bit incredible because the depth of the conversations and visits I have had has been a gift.
I have a few friends that I see once or twice a year. We always part ways promising to get together more often but life happens and the next thing we know, we are celebrating one or the other or both of our birthdays with the hope of "doing this more often" during the (next) following year.
Each time we get together for that annual birthday supper, I quietly wonder "Are they just doing this to be polite?" "Have we drifted apart and out of each other's lives to hold a conversation?" Even friends I see more often than that get busy and I always fear the day when we may realize we don't connect on the same level that we once did.
Then it happens. We get together and share nourishment and "coffee" (or a coffee substitute) and the words flow effortlessly. The next thing I know, three or four hours have passed and it has felt like the blink of an eye.
These conversations are real and deep and two-sided. Each and every time I sat down with a friend, I heard myself monologuing and I knew it had to stop. Then before I knew it, it was my friend's turn to take the role of being front and centre within our conversation. It worked both ways. I could feel the act of being listened to and I know I was captivated as I listened to the other end of this conversation.
Our lives are so multifaceted and diverse that I found a parallel existence within each and every conversation I had. One of my friends has a son a year younger than me and each of them were going through a similar "crisis" or time of great challenge at the same time this past spring. And the very day we spoke, they had an almost identical out-of-school experience. My friend looked me in the eye and said, "How do you handle this?" "What are you going to do?" and I answered honestly and in real time. Because that very conversation awaited me the moment I got home. Even though our sons are practically the same age, this is her oldest son. This is my third and youngest son. I spoke from a place of making many errors along the way of parenting. The timing of our annual supper was eerily impeccable. There was no one else I would have rather been talking to that evening and the feeling felt reciprocated.
The stories and relate-able tales I have to tell are long and varied and specific to the friend who sat before me. Each one of us opened up and told our story honestly and without filter. Our conversations were filled with a sense of trusting the other guy with your whole self. There were no holds barred. We were real with each other and the conversations took off and became meaningful, deep and they made my knees shake.
I am absolutely blessed with friendships which transcend "Facebook" and virtual and superficiality. I may not see them often or talk like a wide open book each time our paths cross but I think we both know the door is always open.
I wished for it and it came. "If you open the door to friendship, they will walk through and enter." The key word is "open". No holds barred. Trust, honesty, vulnerability and openness are good ingredients to add to a conversation you want to go below the surface.
My friends, you are such a big part of me. Even in your absence, knowing our next conversation will pick up where we last left off is all I need. I hope you feel the same way.
Monday, October 5, 2015
That Wasn't So Hard!
I left the house just after 5:00 p.m. on Friday night and made it home by 7:00 last night. I was away for a grand total of fifty hours. Considering I have a hard time leaving the house for a few short hours before I start getting homesick, I was amazed how easy this quick trip felt.
I think the key was the five and a half hour drive going to and from my destination. I rarely sit alone with my thoughts these days. When I am at home, I am either tending to the business of my day, on the computer, watching TV or sleeping. I rarely sit still and gaze off into the sky. Maybe never.
Five and a half hours of computer, telephone, texting and television silence. Who knew it could feel this good?
Fall is an amazing time of year to drive down the prairie highways. The landscape is beautiful but I couldn't think of how I may have missed the "peak" of the colorful autumn season by a week or two because some of the trees were stripped bare of their leaves.
It looked like harvest was complete most of the way but then I would drive past a crop that had a wide swath that looked "bountiful" to this non-farming-kind-of-girl. The year's work was almost done and fall is the time of year our farmers reap what they sew.
I have been mourning the loss of daylight since the first day of fall. The day when the darkness started overtaking the daylight hours was a very sad day for me. I like to bask in the sun like a cat and I was missing the daylight before it was even gone.
My brother mentioned he feels the opposite when our days start to shorten. It means the demands of the yard and all of the outdoor maintenance of the summer season is winding to a close. He can do his "fall clean up" then sit back and enjoy the darkness. Darkness = time off, in my brother's eyes.
I thought of our farmers (namely our dad) who work from sun up until sun down throughout the growing season and wondered if Dad felt the same as my brother as his work days started to shorten. Did he take that as a sign from above to slow down? Or did it create even more pressure for him as he raced against the daylight to do all he wanted to get done?
I don't remember our dad as "a farmer". I hear stories of how he got by on a few hours of sleep when there was work to be done. Dad was a worker. Was he working towards creating that window of "leisure time" that this generation has come to expect as a reward for a "job well done" (or done good enough)?
I would like to hear Dad's stories about harvest time. He worked under pressure. He had asthma that was nearly debilitating at times. Was fall one of the worst time of years for him as the grain dust infiltrated his mask and robbed him of the ability to breathe? Did the easing of the daylight hours bring him the same gift of relaxation my brother now feels? Or is the ability to recognize and savor life's natural cycle of slowing down a gift Dad would be grateful his son has inherited?
This quick trip to visit Mom and my brother was to tend to the parcels of land that Dad purposely kept, to pass along to his four children. We were just tending to the paperwork to make that reality come true easily one day.
This trip should have been all about thinking of Dad and his wishes. It should have been a time to reflect on the hard work and sacrifice Dad made to build an "empire" he wanted to pass along to his children. This trip should have been filled with memories of a time long ago and honoring the gifts Dad has left for his family.
Instead (this story has a boring ending) my mind was filled with my recent conversations with Revenue Canada. In an effort to ensure there are no surprises as we tend to the business of changing land title registrations, I called our friendly neighborhood tax department to ensure this would not result in any negative tax implications for Mom. Instead, I found out that this transfer of ownership will trigger GST. A story that does not yet have an end as I await a phone call from a Revenue Canada agent.
Despite everything we are trying to do, to make Dad's simple wish take place (without Revenue Canada taking a large piece of Dad's hard earned legacy), it seems there is going to be a "cost" incurred.
It seems so simple. Dad wanted to give his children a physical piece of his legacy. A gift. That is all. And Revenue Canada is dictating the rules as to how this will affect ownership and thus, taxes must be paid.
Thankfully memories, stories and that which we hold in our heart is not taxable. Take that, Revenue Canada! We are rich in so many ways which you cannot touch.
That which is not taxable is the best gift of all...
I think the key was the five and a half hour drive going to and from my destination. I rarely sit alone with my thoughts these days. When I am at home, I am either tending to the business of my day, on the computer, watching TV or sleeping. I rarely sit still and gaze off into the sky. Maybe never.
Five and a half hours of computer, telephone, texting and television silence. Who knew it could feel this good?
Fall is an amazing time of year to drive down the prairie highways. The landscape is beautiful but I couldn't think of how I may have missed the "peak" of the colorful autumn season by a week or two because some of the trees were stripped bare of their leaves.
It looked like harvest was complete most of the way but then I would drive past a crop that had a wide swath that looked "bountiful" to this non-farming-kind-of-girl. The year's work was almost done and fall is the time of year our farmers reap what they sew.
I have been mourning the loss of daylight since the first day of fall. The day when the darkness started overtaking the daylight hours was a very sad day for me. I like to bask in the sun like a cat and I was missing the daylight before it was even gone.
My brother mentioned he feels the opposite when our days start to shorten. It means the demands of the yard and all of the outdoor maintenance of the summer season is winding to a close. He can do his "fall clean up" then sit back and enjoy the darkness. Darkness = time off, in my brother's eyes.
I thought of our farmers (namely our dad) who work from sun up until sun down throughout the growing season and wondered if Dad felt the same as my brother as his work days started to shorten. Did he take that as a sign from above to slow down? Or did it create even more pressure for him as he raced against the daylight to do all he wanted to get done?
I don't remember our dad as "a farmer". I hear stories of how he got by on a few hours of sleep when there was work to be done. Dad was a worker. Was he working towards creating that window of "leisure time" that this generation has come to expect as a reward for a "job well done" (or done good enough)?
I would like to hear Dad's stories about harvest time. He worked under pressure. He had asthma that was nearly debilitating at times. Was fall one of the worst time of years for him as the grain dust infiltrated his mask and robbed him of the ability to breathe? Did the easing of the daylight hours bring him the same gift of relaxation my brother now feels? Or is the ability to recognize and savor life's natural cycle of slowing down a gift Dad would be grateful his son has inherited?
This quick trip to visit Mom and my brother was to tend to the parcels of land that Dad purposely kept, to pass along to his four children. We were just tending to the paperwork to make that reality come true easily one day.
This trip should have been all about thinking of Dad and his wishes. It should have been a time to reflect on the hard work and sacrifice Dad made to build an "empire" he wanted to pass along to his children. This trip should have been filled with memories of a time long ago and honoring the gifts Dad has left for his family.
Instead (this story has a boring ending) my mind was filled with my recent conversations with Revenue Canada. In an effort to ensure there are no surprises as we tend to the business of changing land title registrations, I called our friendly neighborhood tax department to ensure this would not result in any negative tax implications for Mom. Instead, I found out that this transfer of ownership will trigger GST. A story that does not yet have an end as I await a phone call from a Revenue Canada agent.
Despite everything we are trying to do, to make Dad's simple wish take place (without Revenue Canada taking a large piece of Dad's hard earned legacy), it seems there is going to be a "cost" incurred.
It seems so simple. Dad wanted to give his children a physical piece of his legacy. A gift. That is all. And Revenue Canada is dictating the rules as to how this will affect ownership and thus, taxes must be paid.
Thankfully memories, stories and that which we hold in our heart is not taxable. Take that, Revenue Canada! We are rich in so many ways which you cannot touch.
That which is not taxable is the best gift of all...
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
My Little Black Fur Balls (a cat story)
I woke up to the presence of this black silhouette this morning:
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| (picture is from "the archives", since I don't sleep with a camera) |
My heart swelled with joy and my early morning thoughts wafted to the way I feel as I wander through our home and find these little black fur balls lighting up our lives.
They are so similar in appearance, that I still can't tell them apart without a few cues to tell me who I'm talking to, when one of them jump up onto the computer desk or directly into my line of vision.
Yet their personalities are so vastly different that I can tell them apart easily by the manner with which they handle themselves when they are across the room from me.
Call me a crazy cat lady, but it warms my heart to wander into my youngest's room and notice at least one cat perched up in a favorite spot or nestled in and acting like they are in a comatose state of slumber, when we know they are not. They are just so at ease with our noises and our habits and our ways and feel so incredibly safe in my youngest's room, they know they can sleep easy in our presence.
Jet, our new kitty, loves the great outdoors. I know he would love his own personal cat door, so he could come and go as he pleases but he has discovered he can scale our six foot fence with ease so he has to be supervised. And even then, he slips in and out of the yard like a ninja. Now you see him, now you don't. That's our cat. So I will call him, wander around the yard and I know he isn't there. Then suddenly he will reappear, laying comfortably on the bed of rocks in the "dog area", like he had been there all the time:
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| (another re-enactment, since I didn't take a picture of the actual occurence) |
Ray, our "scaredy cat" came into our lives afraid of everything. He is still afraid of any sudden moves, children or anything or anyone unfamiliar to him and my Second Son. This summer, he has overcome his fear of our back yard. It was a very tentative love-of-outdoors at first but now he laps up every opportunity to investigate and hunt down bugs and anything that moves.
Last night, our two black kitties joined us in the back yard as we cut down the maple tree which invaded our lilac bush's territory. We were busy at our task but we could always see two black silhouettes in our peripheral vision. Each, curious in their own way, often in opposite corners of the yard.
Suddenly Ray used his pent up cougar speed to race across the yard and chase down and tackle his prey (that would be New Kitty, Jet). I've never seen him utilize his racing gear like that before. Then after a sufficient period, he did it again. I've never seen him run with such abandon and carefree spirit.
These guys bring a smile to my face hundreds of times a day.
Gazing at a resting cat soothes me. Chasing down our kitten who attacks our toilet paper roll each and every morning makes me chuckle. Cat wrestling and cat chases amuse and entertain me. Finding a cat at my side in the morning starts my day out right.
I can't think of a better way to wake up. I can't imagine my life without these unique and special purring fur balls. I can't imagine a life without loving and being loved by these guys.
My children with fur. It is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. The circle of love knows no end. I'm so grateful for this little gift among so many others in this quiet little life of mine.
What are your gifts? The ones you open each and every day and are unique and special to you. Open those gifts and enjoy every moment of joy you find within. Turn on the music to your soul and inhale it today. Breathe in the oxygen and energize your soul with whatever it is you need. These little gifts are precious. Handle them with care.
Cat Wrestling - a moment that goes along with my morning coffee and kick starts my day
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
A Broken Microwave, A Fire Alarm and a Power Outage
Did you ever have the oddest sequence of events take you to exactly where you needed to be, but wouldn't have gone there on your own? Me too!
Our microwave has been smelling like the makings of an electrical fire every time I have forgotten not to use it the past few weeks. Last night I had some decent leftovers for my son to warm up for supper. Only no microwave.
Darn!! I had to go out and replace our microwave. Either that or cook! Blech to both, but buying a microwave seemed like a longer term investment so I opted for that.
I didn't want to go to the store where I bought our first dud microwave, so I went to the next closest.
I walked into the store and people were everywhere. I wondered why and then deduced that "June 1st" payday may have something to do with the unruly mob.
I needed some bananas while I was there and after I walked by some bad looking strawberries I found some bananas that didn't look any better.
I was just about to get grumpy about the crowd, the unsavory looking fruit and the fact that I didn't want to be there when the fire alarm went off.
"Everybody out of the building" said one store clerk.
Why didn't I think of that before? Why did it take a fire alarm to make me realize I had the choice to leave the building?? I honestly wonder where my head is at some days.
I ended up at a preferable store, buying a preferred brand of microwave (one that had not let me down in the past), with the ability to pick up some groceries and milk while I was out.
The benefit of needing a microwave before my son's supper could be warmed up, is that he had time to mow the lawn before I returned home with the food warmer upper.
I was finally ready to sit still in front of the TV and waste the remainder of the evening. I deserved it. I had mowed my half of the lawn, gone shopping, showered and put in a full daycare day. I was done and ready to call it a day.
Then the power went out.
I love my new laptop computer!! The power went out but my computer kept on going, powered by its back-up battery source.
The internet was down due to the power outage but I had a bookkeeping job to do that had nothing to do with the internet and everything to do with sitting down and getting at it.
The gift of a one hour power outage, combined with fifteen minutes to finish up the job and send it on its way once the power and internet were restored was just what I needed.
I would have made that job bigger than it needed to be if I had put it off another day. Thank goodness for that powerless hour. Double gratitude goes to my computer that just kept on going. With or without a power source.
The gift of a fire alarm removed me from a store I didn't want to be in, in the first place. It redirected me to a place where I could do a little one-stop-shopping and not have to leave the house for the rest of the week.
The gift of a broken microwave forced me out of the house when that was the last place in the world I wanted to be.
Three "gifts" put me exactly where I needed to be last night. I did the hard stuff. All I had to do was wake up this morning, without the weight of what I should have and could have done last night.
The hard work is done. Now all I have to do is keep taking one small step in front of the other and the next hard things won't feel so bad.
Our microwave has been smelling like the makings of an electrical fire every time I have forgotten not to use it the past few weeks. Last night I had some decent leftovers for my son to warm up for supper. Only no microwave.
Darn!! I had to go out and replace our microwave. Either that or cook! Blech to both, but buying a microwave seemed like a longer term investment so I opted for that.
I didn't want to go to the store where I bought our first dud microwave, so I went to the next closest.
I walked into the store and people were everywhere. I wondered why and then deduced that "June 1st" payday may have something to do with the unruly mob.
I needed some bananas while I was there and after I walked by some bad looking strawberries I found some bananas that didn't look any better.
I was just about to get grumpy about the crowd, the unsavory looking fruit and the fact that I didn't want to be there when the fire alarm went off.
"Everybody out of the building" said one store clerk.
Why didn't I think of that before? Why did it take a fire alarm to make me realize I had the choice to leave the building?? I honestly wonder where my head is at some days.
I ended up at a preferable store, buying a preferred brand of microwave (one that had not let me down in the past), with the ability to pick up some groceries and milk while I was out.
The benefit of needing a microwave before my son's supper could be warmed up, is that he had time to mow the lawn before I returned home with the food warmer upper.
I was finally ready to sit still in front of the TV and waste the remainder of the evening. I deserved it. I had mowed my half of the lawn, gone shopping, showered and put in a full daycare day. I was done and ready to call it a day.
Then the power went out.
I love my new laptop computer!! The power went out but my computer kept on going, powered by its back-up battery source.
The internet was down due to the power outage but I had a bookkeeping job to do that had nothing to do with the internet and everything to do with sitting down and getting at it.
The gift of a one hour power outage, combined with fifteen minutes to finish up the job and send it on its way once the power and internet were restored was just what I needed.
I would have made that job bigger than it needed to be if I had put it off another day. Thank goodness for that powerless hour. Double gratitude goes to my computer that just kept on going. With or without a power source.
The gift of a fire alarm removed me from a store I didn't want to be in, in the first place. It redirected me to a place where I could do a little one-stop-shopping and not have to leave the house for the rest of the week.
The gift of a broken microwave forced me out of the house when that was the last place in the world I wanted to be.
Three "gifts" put me exactly where I needed to be last night. I did the hard stuff. All I had to do was wake up this morning, without the weight of what I should have and could have done last night.
The hard work is done. Now all I have to do is keep taking one small step in front of the other and the next hard things won't feel so bad.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Hidden Treasures
Let it be known that I rarely say that I "clean". I tidy up, I declutter, I sort, I organize, I vacuum and I tend to a little dust and dirt I find along my way. But I rarely make the statement "I cleaned the house today". Or the car.
Recently, I did a little vacuuming and dusting inside of the car before I headed to Mom's one weekend. I also smudged the windows. I thought I cleaned them but I think all I did was create smears and rearranged the dirt.
I did not say I "cleaned" the car. It's more like I made it presentable for any passengers who may enter.
Last week I sold my second car. I didn't clean it either but I did remove my clutter and personal belongings from within and placed them in a flimsy plastic grocery bag and abandoned said bag on the floor for five days.
I was headed out the door last night and thought I may as well take that forgotten bag of "car stuff" and find a new home for it within my car.
In doing so, I opened a compartment between the driver and passenger seat which I have long neglected.
It appears I filled that space with take-out napkins until it was full, to overflowing, then found a new spot for the napkins.
I cannot remember the last time I looked in this spot.
Upon opening it up last night and discovering an envelope with my sister's writing on it, which said "Gas money", I would have to guess it has been long over a year ago.
The last time I dug through the napkins which lie within that space was when my sister told me that she and my other sister had left an envelope in that very compartment long after they were nestled back into their respective homes when I attended my school reunion in the fall of 2013.
You see, I tend to find these little "envelopes" when and where I least expect them:
Recently, I did a little vacuuming and dusting inside of the car before I headed to Mom's one weekend. I also smudged the windows. I thought I cleaned them but I think all I did was create smears and rearranged the dirt.
I did not say I "cleaned" the car. It's more like I made it presentable for any passengers who may enter.
Last week I sold my second car. I didn't clean it either but I did remove my clutter and personal belongings from within and placed them in a flimsy plastic grocery bag and abandoned said bag on the floor for five days.
I was headed out the door last night and thought I may as well take that forgotten bag of "car stuff" and find a new home for it within my car.
In doing so, I opened a compartment between the driver and passenger seat which I have long neglected.
It appears I filled that space with take-out napkins until it was full, to overflowing, then found a new spot for the napkins.
I cannot remember the last time I looked in this spot.
Upon opening it up last night and discovering an envelope with my sister's writing on it, which said "Gas money", I would have to guess it has been long over a year ago.
The last time I dug through the napkins which lie within that space was when my sister told me that she and my other sister had left an envelope in that very compartment long after they were nestled back into their respective homes when I attended my school reunion in the fall of 2013.
You see, I tend to find these little "envelopes" when and where I least expect them:
I texted my sister when I made this discovery last night and wondered when in the world she left this envelope behind. All I could think of, when we last met for a "sister brunch" in April, I drove her back to my place but I certainly didn't use that much gas.
Well, apparently she left this in my car when I drove her an hour or so out of the city to meet up with our other sister to drive out to Mom's. In April of 2014. OVER a year ago!
I am one part amused and another part mortified.
My sister now knows that I do NOT clean my car on a regular (or even semi-regular) basis. I rewound the tape in my mind and wondered if I ever "bragged" about cleaning. I thought, no, I rarely say I actually "clean" something. I wipe layers of dust off things. I pick my battles. I tidy and vacuum what shows. I do NOT do deep cleaning.
But maybe I should. I have had a few guests in my house from time to time over the course of the past few years. Maybe there are more envelopes begging to be found.
It could be like a treasure hunt!!
If nothing else, maybe I'll find our cat's lost ball and the missing piece of pizza that goes with the Little Tykes kitchen...
Hey, "Thanks, sis!! Sorry it took so long!"
Friday, December 26, 2014
The Day After
Christmas has come and gone this year. All is well. All is bright. And it looks like it just may stay that way.
I had (what felt like) all the time in the world to do what I wanted to do. I talked with my uncle and passed along a positive good-news message to my family.
Two Christmases in a row have been a time-of-great-loss within our family. Then the year that followed was tinged with sadness, illness, loss and life simply felt unstable for so many I know.
I hated the idea of making plans for Christmas this year. I simply wanted to be home. I wanted to be available to go with the flow, as I have been the past few years.
The flow of life didn't take me too far but it took me where I most wanted to be.
I enjoyed the quiet of Christmas morning with our cats while I waited for my Youngest Son to wake up:
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| Senior Cat snuggled up on my knee, while Junior guards the gift awaiting my Youngest Son |
My Youngest and I went out to my Second Son & His Girlfriend's new farm home. Their farm is presently accessorized with two dogs, a cat, three guinea hens and fourteen (two week old) chicks. It truly feels like home. Such a gift for two hard-working people who have waited so long and devoted so many years, dollars and sweat equity into their dream.
We had a leisurely visit, enjoyed a most excellent meal, good company, laughter and a very low key but meaningful exchange of gifts.
It was a day with no fuss, no muss but it was deep and meaningful in all the ways that matter.
All of us were where we 'most wanted to be'. We are a quiet little family with quiet little traditions we know and enjoy. My Oldest Son enjoys being in far off and exotic places over the holidays. And that was exactly where he was.
The sun shone down upon our holiday season this year.
Everyone was happy, healthy, safe and sound. We received everything money can't buy for Christmas this year.
I simply could not ask for more.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Sparkle
I am such a child. My favorite Christmas gift of the year was simply a box.
"Sparkle"
My favorite Christmas song of the season (perhaps forever) is "Sparkle" by Andrea Menard. Every word is magical and the music makes me want to dance.
I couldn't wait to rid the box of its contents so I could imagine the way I could use the box itself.
Will I fill it with that-which-makes-another sparkle and regift it?
Will I collect that-which-makes-me sparkle and carefully place these items in this box of honor?
I just know this box will not collect dust within a cupboard or my life.
I think it is important to find the twinkles of light within your soul and nurture them.
I think the best gift of all is to feel that 'spark' inside of you. A spark which you cannot contain or hold. It is too much. It must be set free and shared with the world.
"It doesn't matter what you believe, your spark's as bright as mine"
"So here's to love, let us sparkle
Here's to love, let us shine.
If one by one, each spark would ignite
we'd sparkle with shimmering light"
Lyrics by Andrea Menard
May your season and year(s) ahead be filled with shimmering light.
Colleen
P.S. I must amend the first sentence of this post. The box was my second best gift. I just received my BEST gift. Ever. I spoke with my uncle and he sounds so very good today. The journey he is on is a slippery path and with every forward step comes the possibility of 'slipping' back a little. But today sounds like a 'one step forward' kind of day!! He says he thinks he is getting better but added (with a self depreciating chuckle I know well) "Others here may not agree with me".
May your Christmas wishes come true!!
My heart is sparkling and shining right now. This is my best Christmas. Ever.
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