My Forever Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

A World Event; a Family Divided

I have a fascination with the Royal Family so decided to camp out in front of the TV last night and sleep my way through King Charles' coronation.

After Queen Elizabeth died, I watched several documentaries of her life and thought I had a glimmer of an idea what to expect. What I forgot is the running commentary and skip-to-the-highlights reel within said documentaries. 

Watching a coronation unfold in real time, while drifting in and out of sleep is not something I will do again any time soon.

First of all, with all of those robes and wardrobe changes (Charles had as many costume changes as Cher and none of them quite as fascinating), I had a very hard time keeping track of the star of the show. At one groggy point of the ceremony, I saw a balding grey haired man in a robe take a sip out of a golden goblet. I automatically assumed it was the new King. Then he turned around and shared the contents of the goblet with a few more people after giving them (what looked like a chip) what I believe must have been "host" and this was part of a communion (?). 

I have not fact checked one iota of what I'm writing and I was in and out of sleep and various stages of grogginess but it was pretty hard to follow in a dream like state.

Where were William and family? Where was Harry? Where was the rest of the family? Why were they not panning the audience with the cameras to showcase the supporting cast? Why can't I understand anything that is being said? Remember, I was mostly asleep throughout.

When I finally woke up and stayed awake, they were saying the Lord's Prayer. That's a good sign, I thought. That must mean things are winding up. I was wrong. There were a few more hymns, a few more prayers and a blessing to go. All I could think was the Royal Training must begin at a very young age for William and Kate's children to be so well behaved for such a long ceremony.

Throughout the ceremony, I had intertwined the soundtrack of the coronation within a dream I was having. I was sitting with Mom in a huge churchlike place. People everywhere, hymns, people coming and going. The performance went on and on and on. At one point, I looked over at Mom and she had an unlit cigarette in her mouth and she dryly said, "I think I'm going to start smoking again".

I was relieved when the narrative of the commentators came back and I chastised myself for losing a night's sleep over something that will be replayed and rehashed over the next long while (honestly, I didn't lose much sleep - my dream with Mom and me in attendance was much, much longer and more detailed and included cameos of Boris Johnson and Barack Obama - don't ask ... it was a long and complicated dream).

I have been reading and listening to Harry's book "Spare", thus Harry was very much in my thoughts. I haven't finished his book yet but as he recalls his memories, thoughts and feelings as he grew up and beyond, I can only see him as the individual I perceive him to be by his honest recount. Diana was a year and a half younger than me and right from the moment she married Charles, I slipped her shoes on for size and knew I wouldn't want to walk a block in them. To read/listen to her youngest son's first hand narrative of his life and not be a larger part of his father's coronation felt wrong to me. All wrong.

When any belief system or set of rules creates a clear cut "you are in or you are out" chasm in a family, I tend to be suspicious and question the source of the division. The rules the Royal Family must adhere to, all the while, living life under the wide lens camera with a bounty on pictures that create a story that sells papers makes me marvel at the job Queen Elizabeth did for 70 years.

While all the pomp and circumstance was interesting and news worthy, my heart went out to those who were not a part of the Buckingham Palace balcony scenario. I saw a family divided and putting on a good show for the world. 

As Mom once said, "A person never knows what goes on behind closed doors". We will never truly know what it is like to walk in a Royal's shoes and maybe we should be grateful to live our quiet little lives without public scrutiny.

Pivotal Moments

The ability to act and react to life is a skill I hope to hone and hold onto.

A recent set of events resulted in my sister changing course as she was on her way to one destination. On the highway already, once they were at the junction they turned right instead of continuing going straight. A few weekends later, they were on the highway to another destination to be present with family who had been touched with a tragedy.

I marveled at my sister's ability to act and react in the moment she was in and thought "I want to be just like her".

This is the sister who says "Yes!" to life and its invitations. I have often commented that if there is a time at the end of her days when she meets her maker and is asked if she has any regrets, her answer would be "No". From where I sit, she is living life the way it was intended to be lived.

I compare who I am and how I live to how my sister lives. I have had times when I lived life in a similar fashion. Having flexible employment makes all the difference in the world. When I worked full time outside my home, I abided by the limitations within my job. When I ran my daycare, I had numerous families depending on my reliability so my flexibility was nil. When I started working the jobs I have right now, the ability to bend and stretch my work hours as needed made all the difference in the world.

My role within my job has changed and my ability to take time off on a whim is next to nil. I miss the ability to be able to pivot on a dime. Act and react in the moment and go freely in the direction life points me toward.

The only thing for certain, is that nothing stays the same. "Be careful what you wish for" is a refrain that often runs through my mind. What I hope for will come. But at what cost?

A Life Lived Well

I am quietly reflecting on a Celebration of Life for my uncle. My dad's brother, a brother (I was told) who most resembled Dad's character and work ethic. A quiet mannered, unassuming kind of guy who was so much more than met the eye.

Dad came from a family of seven boys. The brothers have so many memories and stories that have been told and retold throughout the years. I have listened to them relive those memories and watched the years slip away. The essence of their youth filled the room, eyes twinkled and there was easy laughter among them.

Dad died young. Far too young. A massive heart attack took him from us shortly before his 58th birthday. His body survived but we lost every other part of him that fateful day forty years ago.

I love to hear people speak of Dad, listen to the stories and reminiscences from siblings, uncles, cousins and family friends. Everyone sees a little different piece of a person and I love gathering those memories from different perspectives and recreating Dad's story in my heart and mind.

As I watched the slideshow of my uncle's life, it was a kaleidoscope of memories that encapsulated his essence, his life and reflected his story. A farmer at heart, the farming pictures were plentiful and seasoned his story to perfection. Family photos from all ages and stages of life. He was a son, a brother, a husband, a dad, a grandfather, an uncle, a friend and a valuable member of the community. He worked hard, worked fast and ran even faster. 

As I watched the years unfold on my uncle's slideshow, I was drawn to the photos after he retired. A time when he could vacation a little, enjoy cabin life, fishing, vacations with his brothers, enjoying grandchildren, playing cards, living a simple life but living it well. 

These were the years Dad didn't live to enjoy. As I watched my uncle's story told in photographs I envisioned what Dad's life could have been. It the life I wish you could have lived, Dad. 

It was a life lived well. 

Shared History

It's hard to leave my weekend oasis but here I am. Monday morning with nowhere to go but home. Real life, cat hair, snow and responsibilities. Ahhh. There is no place like home.

I love the sister-time I have at my little weekend oasis. A group text among my siblings on Friday was the precursor to the weekend. A shared memory among four people. Siblings. Growing up with the same parents at different times. A shared history but not always shared memories.

My sister-time is seasoned with "remembering when". I have always loved listening to my sisters (who are nine and eleven years older than me) reminisce about their childhood on the farm, many of those memories included cousins, grandparents and a glimpse of who Mom and Dad were during that time. 

My brother and I moved off the farm to a large city a province away, after my youngest sister was married. We grew up with a dad who had a "9 to 5" (with all the overtime he could work) job that included weekends and vacation time. My sisters grew up with a dad who was a hard working farmer whose hours were long and holidays were a luxury rarely afforded. As Mom once said, "Why do you think we got married on the coldest day of the year?"

We knew two completely different sides of Dad. I believe we also knew two completely different sides of Mom. 

Sibling time is a time when we meld those memories together. It is a time when little memories tend to resurface. Even after all of time I've spent with my sister the past few years, I smile inside when I hear one or the other or both of us remark, "I didn't know that" in regards to a family memory.

I spent my childhood waiting to grow up. I assumed all children felt that way but I now wonder if my desire to grow up and move out like my sisters, was motivated by a wish to join the adult sisterhood. Mom planted many seeds that grew into the close relationship I have with my brother. Now that our ages span from 57 to 73, instead of 12 to 28 we are seeing life through a common lens of mature adult beings with shared memories and support.

The memory of Dad's massive heart attack was the common thread my brother wrote about on Friday. He was the one who was home with Mom when it happened. The rest of us were married and although I was geographically the closest, as my siblings recalled their memory of that day, I felt I was the most remote.

A tragedy united our family in a way we had never been before. There is a date in our history that marks the time, place and circumstances each of us were experiencing at the time. That day was forty years ago. Since that time, we have only grown closer.

It is a gift to share a history with those we can connect and reconnect with over the course of a lifetime. Is it a wonder why I share a very close friendship with a childhood friend I've known since I have had a memory? A sister-in-law who "adopted" me when my own sisters lived at a distance and were relatively unknown to me at the time? Many of my closest friends are friends who are "missing a sister" and we've forged a sister connection.

I believe the human condition craves and needs connection. We are fortunate when that connection is forged within family. Shared history is a good foundation to build on and we can forge those connections outside the family unit. 

We all have a story we tell. It is a gift to share our stories with each other.

March Forward

I woke up to the year 2023 with a 2022 hangover. 2022 was a year that left a bad taste in my mouth. I sat down to write here in the wee hours of January 1st, didn't like what I wrote and never looked back. Now, here I am. Fresh new month, fresher perspective. 

 A blog writer I enjoy made a pact with herself to write every day in February. She too, had gotten out of the regular writing habit which meant I, in return, got out of the reading habit. It was a pure delight to go back and read the posts I had missed. Her musings, perspective, projects and some of the light and easy stuff of life were documented. I sensed the pleasure she rediscovered as she renewed her writing habit. 

What a great idea, was my first thought! February was already half way complete by the time I read this. February is my favorite and least favorite winter month. Favorite - because it speeds by so fast. Least favorite - because it speeds by so fast. In an accounting/bookkeeping world, those two lost days are very noticeable. "I will start in March!", was my second thought.

March. Thirty one days to meet my bookkeeping deadlines. Month-end falls on a Friday, so I have all week to prepare for those final, frenzied days. NO bookkeeping deadlines that are set by all the powers-that-be within my little bookkeeping world. PST, GST, T4's, WCB, and all the other letters of the alphabet have been tamed the past two months. Deadlines met. Employees paid. Bills paid. Revenue Canada is satisfied for the moment.

Let me breathe a long sigh of relief as I revel in the moment of overcoming the toughest two months of the year. Now is my time to set some resolutions hopes for the year ahead. Aspirations, whimsical dreams, a renewal of hope. I shall March forward from here.

Number 1 goal - to write on!

Crash

It wasn't a collision. It was more like a slow slide on the ice into a soft snow embankment. No, I'm not speaking of a literal crash. Just a mental one.

I was flying high Friday morning. I felt so good, I stopped to write. Putting myself out into the world and outlining my small triumphs out loud exhausted me. It was as if a small dose of adrenaline was administered as I wrote. Then came the fall.

It was simply a slippery slope of having the ability to coast. I coasted through Friday and landed smack dab into Saturday with ease. I woke up an hour later than usual Saturday morning. I forgave myself but in the back of my mind, I mourned my lost hour.

"It's okay. It's Saturday. You worked for this. Coast. Just coast ..."

Coasting for me involves sitting still without eating or talking. Movement, chatting and a seemingly endless supply of chips is what keeps me awake. The moment I stopped all of the above, I was asleep.

"It's okay. If you are tired, sleep. It is all right."

So I did. I slept the afternoon away, woke up and had a frozen piece of cheesecake dessert which took the better part of three hours to chisel away at. Then I went to bed. 

"Just to get warm, comfortable and settle in to watch another old episode of 'This is Us'. I'll just nestle in for the night."

Then I woke up to Sunday. 

Where did the weekend go? I slept away a day. As I sit here and watch the blowing snow outside (43 km/h wind, with gusts up to 56 km/h), I just want to nestle in and hibernate for the day. I scroll the weather forecast and the headline "Whiteouts, dangerous travel possible ...", I wistfully wonder how I would feel if I was snowed in, at my favorite little oasis on the prairie.

Oh, to dream a little dream. It is a small thing but it feels so right. I love this soft place to land at the end of my week.

I wish you a soft slide into your most favorite place, activity or mental holiday. Happy Coasting!

Gift to Self

I fritter away time like no one's business. When asked what I do in a day, I may be hard pressed to recall. But lately I have been hyper-vigilant in tracking my time and it amazes even me. I spend an awful lot of time doing things of little value. Or do I???

I feel like this has been a week (okay, two days out of seven) of walking around with a screwdriver. Fixing things. Tightening things. Moving latches and screwing them back in place. Tis the season of "shifting". Doors and gates don't close the way they did a week ago. Having had a screwdriver in my hand, I tend to notice a wobbly stool, loose cupboard door handles and why the heck did that bifold door fall off the track (I did it - I accidentally closed a mop handle in the immovable side of the door flush to the wall but did not notice the handle in said location until after watching a YouTube video on how to fix a bifold door).

There went (perhaps) an hour, maybe an hour and fifteen minutes all tolled, of my week. Where did the rest go?

Cat hair. Can I just say the allure of a hairless cat is starting to appeal to me? Where does the hair on a hairless cat go? Do they grow it and shed it? Or to they simply have a chronic case of alopecia and baldness means no new hair growth at all? Vacuuming, picking up, lint-brushing cat hair off of any surface cat hair can waft onto is consuming more of my time (now that I have a 100% cat hair free zone in my little home-away-from-home, I tend to notice cat hair more than ever before). Even at that, on an average, I cannot claim that cat hair removal claims any more than a half hour ten minutes per day.

Podcasts. My newest favorite thing. I believe I spend that time wisely as I combine listening to fun, inspiring and thought provoking topics while I do what I have done every morning for years. I listen while I work on my morning puzzles, sip on my morning smoothie and have my second (often third) cup of coffee. Now there is a full hour of my day, not counting the time I spend prior to and after the podcast, tending to banking and other computerized chores (grocery shopping), where I need to concentrate too hard to listen to a podcast at the same time. Let's say I spend two hours of the morning at the computer.

Morning pages. I have recently discovered if I have a smooth writing pen and write really, really fast without interruption, I can speed through three, 8-1/2" X 11" pages in half an hour to 35 minutes. Add the prep time to make my coffee and make my way to my quiet little writing spot and the amount of distractions it takes to get me from pre-morning pages to post-morning pages and there is another hour gone. POOF!

Cat litter. A separate paragraph and a separate thought from cat hair. Daily. On-going. A chore my daughter was/is willing to share with me but my inane perfectionist mind has convinced me it is easier to do it myself. I can always find an extra chore to add onto the litter cleaning. A five minute job probably rounds up to fifteen minutes some days. But I take weekends off. So there!

Vacuuming, bathing, showering, taking out garbage/recycling, shoveling snow, preparing my supper-to-go, taking time to stop and "chew" (my morning smoothie and coffee only takes me to about 10:30 and then the need for solid sustenance intervenes). Mail-checking, email-checking, message-checking, message-responding ... 

Oh!!!! The many, many distractions I opt in on. I tend to call these distractions "cleansing my palate" in the midst of my work-from-home day. I get my head in a mathematical problem and tend to think I need to walk away for a moment. Yes! That ONE piece of paper needs to go to the recycling bin by the back door immediately. Yes! I need to quickly check in on Instagram to see if any of the "talking dogs/cats" (people actually train their dogs/cats to speak to them with buttons to cue their humans to what they want/need); groundhogs; and other human critters with less hair I choose to follow and entertain me.

Distractions quite easily eat up (possibly) two hours out of a day. One day when I'm really bored (or in the need of "cleansing my palate"), I should track the time I loose to my various distracting habits.

Oh yes, then there is work. My actual job! Amazingly, it eats up a fair chunk of my day too. I am getting much better at working smarter. Or is it just called "working one job per day" for five days, in the past three weeks. Oh, there is nothing like being able to JUST STAY HOME until the work one wants to complete in a day is done. I called in "work" (not sick) from my second form of income one day and it was so intoxicating, I asked for a few more days off the following week, followed by an offer of one final day off this week. It was the best un-holiday I've ever had. When I grow up, I hope to have only ONE job ...

Am I whining? Complaining? Making excuses? Not intentionally. It may sound like it, but I am grateful for this cat-hairy, distracted, work-filled, people-filled life I lead. How I choose to spend my hours IS a choice. 

I could opt to invest my hours very differently than I do. The miracle of waking up every morning is that each day is a bright new set of options. 

Today?? I gave myself a little gift. I have chosen to sit still with this little blog space I used to call home and write. Just write.

Nothing big, small or indifferent to say. No lessons, no ranting, no carrying on about the myriad of thoughts in this busy little brain of mine. Just the little stuff. The inane. The act of choosing my daily grind in various ways with lots of room to adapt with the flow of whatever life throws my way.

Sitting down and typing (verses hand writing my morning pages) feels like an entirely different experience. I have been using my "gift" of computer time to spreadsheets, work-related emails, tax & accounting programs during my work-day, with a side order of puzzles, podcasts and on-line grocery shopping/banking for fun. I forgot how much I once enjoyed just letting my fingers fly over the keyboard and seeing what they have to say.

Apparently my fingers had much to say about nothing. I wish you a day of following your choices and hoping it takes you where you most need to be.

Today, may you give yourself the gift of spending time doing something that brings you joy. 

A Small Goal

If I had only one goal to fulfill, it would be this: "I never want to wake up feeling dread for the day ahead of me".

Sounds easy. 

We all have these days. A day of dread. Dreading work. Dreading a day of too much, too little, too stressful, too hard. Challenging relationships. Financial woes. Hard decisions. Lacking motivation. Depression. Anxiety. Ill health. Concern over loved ones.

The feeling of not wanting to face up to the day is not my worry alone. 

My anxiety this morning is not a big, onerous, worrisome concern. It is a social outing. I must go out with people. I must meet up with people on unfamiliar territory. I must walk into a situation I am completely uncomfortable with. 

This is the first post-COVID invitation I have accepted. I have some angst over being in a crowded area without social distancing and masks involved. There will be people talking loudly. I visualize the mist of saliva wafting through the air.

There will be laughter and joy. Comedy and music. Enjoying the talent family members have honed, with my family. 

The sad thing is, I cannot wait to wake up tomorrow morning and have this all behind me. 

I should have declined the invitation. Maybe I can still wiggle out of it. 

I have been here before. Doing hard things for me, means accepting invitations. 99.9% of the time, I am grateful to have walked through the hard and got to the other side AND enjoyed myself in the process. I am 90% certain I will wake up tomorrow morning with a happiness hangover. 

But today? I just want to live the life of a cat. Not a care in the world other than finding the most comfortable spot to savor the day. I highly doubt our furry felines wake up dreading the day ahead of them. Then again, who knows? 

Same Same Same

I love routine. Ruts. Same old, same old. I like to know what to expect on a day-to-day basis.

I thought of this as I made my breakfast smoothie - a routine I adopted over twenty years ago, from a smoothie recipe my middle child brought home when he was in Grade 8. Every morning, it is the same thing. I've adapted the recipe a little over the years but I almost always start my day with a breakfast smoothie.

Then I made a sandwich for the supper meal I pack up with me daily. I will eat the same sandwich until I run out of that particular ingredient. "Don't you ever get tired of sandwiches?" I am asked. Heavens no! Anything I don't have to think about when I assemble the ingredients is fine by me. As long as I like the ingredients. Repetition = easy.

I now have the luxury of having lunch at home. This offers all the variety I need. Once again, my choices are of the same old, same old variety. What I choose to eat is dictated by what may be nearing its expiry date in the fridge or what is quickest and easiest to prepare. Prior to working from home, I packed up two granola bars to eat as I worked. A granola bar without chocolate = a meal. Good enough! And I would run out the door with my repetitive meals on board.

I am pretty easy to please when it comes to eating. It is when I am trying to please others when I stress out a little. Most people enjoy variety. I would prefer it if people thought, "Oh, I'm going to Colleen's. It will be spaghetti & meat sauce. Again." I wouldn't mind being associated with one meal and one meal only. But since variety is the spice of life, I have about five supper meals I rotate when absolutely necessary. 

Clothes. Same thing.

I would love to go to a closet that had as few choices as necessary. Long sleeved, short sleeved or no sleeved tops. Perhaps two or three color choices. Jeans, capris or comfy pants. Black or denim is the only option required. Shoes? Comfort is all that matters. Comfort and preferably no holes in the soles.

My favorite option when it comes to online grocery orders is the "easy reorder". Yes!!! All my favorites in one spot. Click, click, click some more. The only decision required is "how many?". Same thing with Amazon. The "buy again" tab has my name all over it.

Extra curricular activities? Aaack. Not my favorite. Surprise me. Show up on my doorstep. Call me and ask "Do you want to do something right now (or within a few hours)?" My favorite part of having a part time home in the town where my sister lives, is finding her on my doorstep or driving up the driveway and popping in. I love it! Love it!! Love it!!! 

I can be lost in my small little world of same-ness with a little variety tossed in to spice things up a bit. But I thrive on routine. 

It is said that variety is the spice of life. I tend to believe "life" is spicy enough. The best way for me to handle the curve balls life tends to throw into a day/week/month/year is to maintain as much same-ness as possible. The fewer decisions I must make on a regular basis, the better equipped I am, to handle whatever comes my way.

It works for me. What works for you?

A morning smoothie with a cup of coffee on the side is the best part of waking up!

The Gift of Recall

I was up to my elbows in sorting through the assortment of frozen food in our freezer when I suddenly wondered "Why am I here?"

I was immediately reminded of the moment when I was unpacking a load of groceries I took to my little home-away-from-home when I wondered "Where is the Shepherd's pie I packed?" I vividly remembered moving one frozen entree out of the way; I remembered we had two frozen Shepherd's pie meals; I remember the motion of choosing one of them. But it wasn't packed.

In both cases I was able to recall my answers the moment I revisited the scene. This reusable note we have taped inside a cupboard door (as a reminder that there is a thawed muffin inside the microwave) triggered the memory I had spotted a muffin in the freezer and had planned to take it out:

The frozen Shepherd's pie? I found it safely stashed inside the freezer door. My memory hadn't failed me. I had gone through the motions to pack it up and take it with me but simply forgot to follow through.

The gift of recall. The vivid pictures in our mind to help us back track and remember the sequence of events that brought us to the moment we are in, when we have forgot why we are there. 

It is a gift that shifts, alters and fades. Sometimes it is because we are overtired or our minds are on a million other things. We get distracted and forget. It seems to happen a little more as I age but every time I remember, I remind myself to be grateful.

The ability to recall a thought is a gift when we have it. It can be eroded slowly or gone in an instant. Brain injury comes in many different forms. Our brains are the core to our being. If we thought about it as much as we should, we may all be walking around in helments. 

Helmets and face masks. We need to protect what is important. Be careful out there.

When Can I Retire?

I have noticed a pattern within this little life of mine. The minute I start to worry about my job outside my regular working hours, it results in a morning-after ritual which has become familiar and somewhat soothing. I go back to my budget spreadsheet, run some numbers and wonder if I can afford to retire.

Short answer? No. My answer? Long and wordy...

I stayed home this past long weekend. I discovered something I am not particularly proud of. I may be using my little "home away from home" as a place to run toward because I am running away from life-as-I-know-it withing my "home at home".

I had grand plans and expectations of myself when I realized this long weekend would fall at the end of a month where several onerous deadlines had to be met within my bookkeeping world. To me, completing a list of "hard things", filing them away and feeling satisfied with a job done to completion is a high like no other. It is a sensation that fulfills and completes me.

Long story longer? I did not cross off any of the big ticket items I was anticipating. Add to that, a challenging "last day" before my anticipated long weekend. To add just a little more to the pile, I didn't get the long weekend I was anticipating. It was sprinkled with work issues yet to be resolved.

This is the part of my saga where I need to create, define and live within the boundaries I have set since my day job moved in with me. I created boundaries all right. I closed the door and would have sealed it shut if I could have done so, in a manner that would not have resulted in paint peeling off when the seal was broken.

I did the next best thing. I sat in front of the TV for four solid days. Yes. Four. 

Cooking? I cooked a frozen pizza, garlic fingers and bagged salad on Day One. I picked up Dairy Queen for supper on Day Two. We ordered in "fine dining" from Pink Cadillacs on Day Three. By Day Four, I knew I had to rise to the occasion. I found a cooked, frozen chicken breast in the back of the freezer from well over a year ago. Perhaps two. Then I added bagged, boxed and frozen entrees to the mix and created this:

 

P.S. It tasted about as good as it looks. It was edible.

The list of achievements during the above noted weekend are: I washed one load of laundry; I washed my hair; I watched 5 seasons of "Mom". The end.

ONE day back to work and this is what was achieved:

Spaghetti and meat sauce for at least three meals; tuna salad for my supper at my work-away-from-home employment; and I mowed the lawn. In addition to putting in a full day's work at home and away from home. 

I may not enjoy working but I need it. I seem to need a job to define the work flow for my days at home. 

When can I retire? I trust that when the time comes, I will be at a point where my finances will work out one way or another. 

When should I retire is a better question. I believe life is telling me I need to learn to better manage my down-time when I have it in order to manage a life without defined goals. Retirement could be the hardest part of my life if I don't start planning a  future that isn't defined by work.

Sad but true.

Breathing in the Moment

 I woke up in a deeply feeling mood this morning. 

The kind of mood where I can hear the world speak to me through my daily meanderings through various blogs I follow.

I found the answer to the question "Why did you keep going back to your marriage?" within a blog post written by Allison Fallon: "There are moments where I am wondering what I have done wrong and why nothing I tried would fix any of it. Fix him. Fix me so he could love me. Fix me so I could love him."

That's "it"! That is exactly it. Written by someone who has walked a parallel walk. Someone who has the ability to put words to my thoughts. Precisely. Exactly. 

This is why our world needs artists. Those who can create, write, sing, paint and illustrate the world as they feel it so we can all find our connectedness within the thread that is woven into the art.

I am growing weary of this tired little life I am living. A life that feels wrung dry from the demands of my paid vocations. 

I am nourishing myself with potato chips, sweets, home renovation shows and Netflix. "Hope for Wildlife" has become my oxygen source. Watching a caring group of people rescuing, loving, reviving, saving and setting these living, breathing beings back out into their habitat is fueling a small spark I feel within me.

I admire Hope Swinimer's undying devotion to her passion. How caring for a robin that had been attacked by a cat was a step towards a future that has impacted the world around her, those who work with her and thanks to the marvel of television, spread the word to millions.

One incident. One person. Igniting the passion within.

I truly believe we all have a spark within us, just waiting to catch fire. 

I have had a hard time fanning the flame within me. I am a shell of the being I am capable of being. It feels as though my flame has been extinguished.

Then I have a morning such as this. A day where the world is reaching out and touching me. Truly, all days are just like this. The difference is this morning, my receptors are open to taking it all in.

If only my day job(s) didn't have to get in the way.

Perhaps that is why my daycare worked for me for so many years. I could wake up to a morning such as this and run with it with my little daycare crowd. We could go outside and breathe in the wonder of the world, stand in a sun beam and just marvel at the smallest of things...

The Answer Is

I read Alex Trebek's book "The Answer Is". It's an easy read. It touches on so many aspects of his life-so-far. I put it down and told my son, "He's a real stand up guy." 

I related his struggles with those Mom never vocalized and wondered what Mom would have said of his book, his story and where he is today. Somehow, I sense my sentiments are an echo of Mom's voice. She appreciated people of good character. 

I love how Alex wrote of his upbringing, his parents, the in-between years of graduation and the steps along the way to lead him to where he is today. I admire his honesty, his humbleness, his humanitarian spirit and his humanness. I appreciate the stories of contestants he brought into focus and how he models the appreciation he has for the work he does. 

If you are interested and have the opportunity, I highly recommend reading his book. He is donating all profits from his book to charity.

"The Answer Is" the answer to the question "What book I would most like to listen to the audio version?" Not only is Alex Trebek a real stand up guy, he has a voice I could listen to all day.

No Guilt Allowed

I have squandered more time off feeling guilty about all I'm not doing, than taking action actually doing something about it. 

Guilt has never done anything positive for me. The only thing it does, is drain me of energy, wear me down, I beat myself up and feel badly about whatever the situation is at hand.

Guilt rarely motivates me. I want to run for cover, turn on the TV to tune out my thoughts. I fill myself with junk food - literally and figuratively. Junk food for the soul (mindless TV) and junk food for my body (chips and pop).

Guilt is a complete and total waste of time for me.

This weekend I am not allowing guilt to rule my thoughts. It is a "No Guilt Allowed" weekend. I will follow where that thought leads, allow myself some guilty pleasures and plan to wake up to a Monday morning without a guilt hangover.

May you fill your day with whatever it is you need the most. No guilt allowed.

What's New?

 "What's new?" is an age old question and the age old answer "Not much" is even more prevalent than ever within my vocabulary as I go on to live a highly repetitious and predictable life as the COVID pandemic continues to rule the world.

My answer has rarely been mirrored as life continues to go on for those who touch my world. The answer is more like "Where do I begin?"

As I listen to the answers of others within this strange and changing time, I continue to be grateful for all that remains the same in my quiet little life.

Good health, contentment within, a comfortable home, healthy relationships and having the means to maintain the life one is accustomed to living is always a blessing. It seems to be truer than ever nowadays.

"What's new?" I hope your answer is comfortable for you. More of the same old, same old isn't as comfortable for some as it is for others. May I simply wish you more of what you need the most.

Weekday Hacks

Why is it that I seem to have the ambition to do the harder, more mundane household tasks on weekdays than I do on weekends? And why in the world would I talk myself out of doing some of those "hard things" when I work from home and can interchange weekday-work with weekend-chores as long as my job gets done?

I stumbled onto this hidden treasure trove of energy on "Friday mornings". Anything I must do that will result in sweating or getting dirty is done Friday morning before I wash my hair. My scope of work is not large and anything I choose to do has time limitations. 

Eureka! Having to complete a task before a set time is a game changer. Long gone are the days when I devoted entire weekends to house cleaning, organizing, de-junking and basic "seasonal cleaning". I do much better with time constraints.

The addition of a new filing cabinet spurred on a flurry of ambition this past Sunday afternoon. I cleaned and organized until I was satisfied, then even put in several hours of work Sunday night. Getting to work in my office Monday morning was almost fun. 

Except, I still had ONE shelf in the closet to empty out so I could utilize it for office storage. The "clearing out" part was simple. The hard part was making space for the bedding I had stored on the shelf.

I woke up yesterday morning, looked up at the shelf and thought "There is no better time than 'now' to clear space for all this shelf holds". I went straight downstairs and started to work. I couldn't take on the entirety of emptying our wall full of shelving in the laundry room but I DID empty, clean and sort through at least one third of it.

I emptied and washed down the shelf in my office closet, moved the contents downstairs into the storage space I created, then came back upstairs to find this:

As soon as I started loading the shelving with items not related to cats, my furry friend ran off. And this was the final result:

In the other corner, my new filing cabinet:

Atop the filing cabinet sits the only personal touch within my home office business space. A quote from Glennon Doyle, reminding me to just keep going. One foot in front of the other. Forward steps. Do not let perfectionism stop me in my tracks. 

Setting foot in my office brings me joy. Yes, I continue to feel overwhelmed at times but having a semblance of control over my environment has made a vast difference in the way my days roll.

I woke up this morning and decided I didn't "have" to get up at 6:00 a.m. I wasn't trying to squeeze in a hair color before my day began so there was no need to get a head start on the day. Instead, I slept in until 7:00 a.m. What a rebellious act. Sleeping in on a weekday! 

Two weekday mornings in a row, I tossed in a side order of "weekend" and my load feels a lot lighter.

That said, my lost hour has caught up with me. I must head into my most excellent office space and get the day started.

May you too, find "weekday hacks" to make your journey to the weekend just a little easier to bear. 

Kodak Moments

 "The world lost a beautiful girl today" were the words my friend wrote to describe the inexplicable loss their family faced yesterday.

I became Facebook friends with my friend's son and his wife long ago and have been a silent cheerleader as the highlights of their lives were posted on their Facebook statuses. 

They regularly posted pictures of themselves together, their much adored chihuahua, their move into their new home and anticipated arrival of a new puppy they planned to adopt and bring home the day after she suffered a brain aneurysm.

Last night, I scrolled through this beautiful girl's Facebook page and read her words, felt her anticipation and marveled over the life this young soul was anticipating.

Frustrations over the isolation during this time of COVID, missing her family, friends and openly declaring her joy for having them in her life and anticipating getting beyond the isolation and getting back to a world where face to face visiting was the norm.

She was admitted into the hospital three weeks ago. Due to the COVID restrictions, only her husband and mom could visit her. 

I think of this beautiful girl and hope she could feel the love, support and prayers that were directed her way. I think of my friend's son and the support he must have needed as he navigated days nothing in the world could have prepared him for. I think of this girl's mom, her dad, family and friends. 

A young man lost his wife yesterday. Her parents lost their daughter. A vital member of the family will never come home again. Friends are lost and heartbroken.

If it were not for her regular posts documenting the joys in her life, her love for her husband, family and friends and her hopes and dreams for the future, those who are mourning her loss would have just a little bit less to hold onto.

Twelve hours before her life changed in a moment, she snapped a picture of the joy she was living in, in that very moment. "A Kodak moment", she wrote.

Enjoy those Kodak moments in time. The world is a better place when you savor the moment you are in and openly appreciate those who mean the world to you.

A Step in the Right Direction

 I am seriously contemplating taking a step outside my safe little COVID induced isolated little world. I am planning a day trip.

The incentive? An afternoon with my siblings. Oh, how I have missed my sibling time.

I have had a brief deck-visit with my sisters but I was uneasy. I didn't breathe in the moments the way I normally do.

Socializing is depleting me more than it is invigorating me these days. This trend was beginning before these months of isolation. The ongoing "state of emergency" recommendations have simply given me permission to be more of who I already was.

If anything or anyone can push me out of my comfort zone and take one step into the land of being social, it is my siblings. I think I'm ready.

This upcoming visit has one condition: "Weather permitting" These two words bring me great comfort. I am hopeful but not fully committed.

Story of my life. Hope without commitment. I don't want this state of mind to become my norm. I am in good hands taking this first tentative state with my siblings. It's up to me to make the most of this time of great hope.

It's a Jungle Out There

My son has taken over lawn mowing duties this summer and I have stopped looking at our yard in its entirety. My line of vision has come to see only the front yard as I drive into the garage, and the back yard as I walk from the garage to the back door. Everything else is a blur.

In order to lessen the distractions while taking a personal phone call, I have started taking the phone outside. I will carry a chair wherever the shade may be and it feels like I'm transported to another world when I am sitting in the comfort of our own back yard.

Except ... while looking at the back yard from a different angle, I was astounded at the weeds that sprouted since I last looked around the corner of our house.

Thistles had taken over and had deeply rooted themselves in the rocks. Other weeds had grown just as tall but were easier to pull. Little weeds were multiplying and this formerly weedless space had gone to seed and flourished while my back was turned.

The next time I sat outside, I noticed the weeds growing along the chain link fence area. Again, it was the thistles that ruled the area with the odd tree seed settling in as well. I took this time to pick all the weeds I could spot in the yard. Considering I had just weeded the back yard a few weeks ago, I was a little disillusioned how fast the weeds went forth and multiplied.

The next day, I thought I'd better peek at the back alley to see what had transpired back there since its last weed-free-inspection several months ago. Oh. My. Gosh. It was overgrown with every type of weed in the neighborhood.

I pulled weeds for well over an hour. I thought of my daycaring days when I simply puttered in the yard while the kids played. Pulling weeds as I spotted them on a regular basis resulted in a yard that looked like someone who cared lived here. 

Working in my office inside the house, I rarely step outside during my regularly scheduled work week. I don't putter with a thing because I cannot work and putter at the same time. Everything that must be done still gets done. But the little things are piling up.

As it is with the weeds in the back yard, so it is within the cozy little "storage places" within our home. My little piles are growing and multiplying while my back is turned. 

I need to figure out how to work from home more effectively. Work spills into my weekends. When I'm not working, I'm not fully immersed in anything productive in or around our home. I play mindless games on the computer or stare at the TV set until my brain is numb enough to sleep.

Something's gotta change. Nature is telling me to wake up and pull the weeds before we run out of summer weather. It's a jungle out there.