I am working on a 'home study' course at the moment. It is actually a very good thing that I have this on hand in this life-as-I-know-it.
Two days ago, I hit a wall with my bookkeeping. Stuck. Waiting for the 'okay' to move forward. I'm not certain that the starting point is correct. So I wait.
Job Number Two. I expected a call yesterday. It didn't come.
I thought the day could turn around at any moment. An email getting the go-ahead to move forward with my latest bookkeeping task. A call to go into work. Nothing.
When I saw that possibility unfolding yesterday morning, I opened my books. I declared it a study day.
This course is full of information that I have never heard before. I am wading through it but not absorbing a lot. Thankfully the exam is open book. But I peeked ahead at the exam at the end. It will be beyond challenging.
Ten chapters down. Two to go. Then the exam. Slowly but surely. I will get it done.
Then there is my dad's family's Book Project. Yet another challenge that awaits. When I complete my course, I will devote my down-time to that.
I have amassed a lot of memories. I must organize, sift and style them into the fashion of a book. I have a deadline. I will do this.
In this long, cold, dark month of January ... I shall push through. Work as much as I can. Study in the hours that should be filled with work. I will continue to motivate myself to get to work on the Book Project.
One small step at a time, I will set out to accomplish all that I plan to do. Forward momentum. I just need to keep taking steady steps forward. I can do this. And I will.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Do Unto Others ...
I know people get busy. I know that there are underlying frustrations, worries and an entire back story going on within each person you come into contact with. I know that I have done the same. But what truly gives a person the 'right' to speak to another, in a demeaning manner?
I know for a fact that I have 'jumped' on my children when they have asked a simple question. When they were young, I probably went on with my day and never thought another thing about it. As they grew older, they responded in kind.
During the teen years, this response may have led to an argument that started with someone belittling the other's value by talking to them in such a tone.
Other responses have been the 'cone of silence'. Each of us has retreated within ourselves when words have been hurled that cut below the surface.
As my children grew into adults, this particular scenario started playing out differently. They would 'call me on it' when I said something that was hurtful or inappropriate. We have stopped in our tracks and retracted, reworded or explained where the emotion was coming from.
Looking back, I physically shudder when I think of the injuries that my tone of voice, body language and words have caused over the years. I have learned to think more before I speak. No matter who I'm talking to, I (try to) consciously weigh what I am saying and how it will feel to be on the receiving end of those words.
It's been a work in progress (always with room for improvement), but the response you get from speaking to another person with respect nears the 98% effective rate.
I rarely (if ever) raise my voice any more. In fact, I have scared myself when the volume of my voice rises. What scares me more than anything, is that during the height of my (many) frustrating moments of life, this decibel level was not out of the ordinary.
I do not get drawn into an argument. I don't agree with everything I hear. I may have my way of thinking and someone else has theirs. But it is not a requirement that I see eye to eye on every level with every person. I listen. I stand my ground. But it is a waste of energy to argue. So I don't (do I??).
"How to treat people" is probably the most valuable lesson I have learned in my life. I have learned through example. Most importantly, by my parents and also the rest of my family and friends. I have learned how I do and don't like to be treated as a: customer, employee, child, friend, parent (and the list goes on). I have learned how to treat people when you run your own business. My children have taught me a lot (yes, I know I was a slow learner ... sorry!!).
I've learned. I'm still learning.
So when someone barks at me without consideration or thought for who I am and what I am trying to communicate ... it bothers me. It takes the wind out of my sails and I become less of who I am. No one has that right.
Thought for the day: "How many times have I done this to others?"
Goal for a lifetime: "Treat others with the respect they deserve". More often than not, people respond in kind.
Every now and again, you run into someone having a bad day. Forgive them. Tomorrow, it could be you.
I know for a fact that I have 'jumped' on my children when they have asked a simple question. When they were young, I probably went on with my day and never thought another thing about it. As they grew older, they responded in kind.
During the teen years, this response may have led to an argument that started with someone belittling the other's value by talking to them in such a tone.
Other responses have been the 'cone of silence'. Each of us has retreated within ourselves when words have been hurled that cut below the surface.
As my children grew into adults, this particular scenario started playing out differently. They would 'call me on it' when I said something that was hurtful or inappropriate. We have stopped in our tracks and retracted, reworded or explained where the emotion was coming from.
Looking back, I physically shudder when I think of the injuries that my tone of voice, body language and words have caused over the years. I have learned to think more before I speak. No matter who I'm talking to, I (try to) consciously weigh what I am saying and how it will feel to be on the receiving end of those words.
It's been a work in progress (always with room for improvement), but the response you get from speaking to another person with respect nears the 98% effective rate.
I rarely (if ever) raise my voice any more. In fact, I have scared myself when the volume of my voice rises. What scares me more than anything, is that during the height of my (many) frustrating moments of life, this decibel level was not out of the ordinary.
I do not get drawn into an argument. I don't agree with everything I hear. I may have my way of thinking and someone else has theirs. But it is not a requirement that I see eye to eye on every level with every person. I listen. I stand my ground. But it is a waste of energy to argue. So I don't (do I??).
"How to treat people" is probably the most valuable lesson I have learned in my life. I have learned through example. Most importantly, by my parents and also the rest of my family and friends. I have learned how I do and don't like to be treated as a: customer, employee, child, friend, parent (and the list goes on). I have learned how to treat people when you run your own business. My children have taught me a lot (yes, I know I was a slow learner ... sorry!!).
I've learned. I'm still learning.
So when someone barks at me without consideration or thought for who I am and what I am trying to communicate ... it bothers me. It takes the wind out of my sails and I become less of who I am. No one has that right.
Thought for the day: "How many times have I done this to others?"
Goal for a lifetime: "Treat others with the respect they deserve". More often than not, people respond in kind.
Every now and again, you run into someone having a bad day. Forgive them. Tomorrow, it could be you.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Moving Again
After a very sedentary Christmas season, it feels good to get moving once again.
Not only did I spend the better part of yesterday organizing a basement (which utilized a lot of dormant muscle groups), but I finally, finally went out last night and enjoyed two hours of Zumba!
I haven't felt physically exhausted for so long, that I forgot how good it felt.
My brain gets weary and my body tires, but not from over-use. In fact, the truth is quite the opposite.
One thing that I noticed when I went back and read the archives of this blog, is the amount that I used to accomplish in a day/week/month. I have become very lackadaisical this past year.
The busier you are, the more you get done. You have to organize your time, make and meet deadlines and very little time is wasted sitting around trying to get motivated. You just do it.
I believe that I have committed my evenings to 'things that I enjoy' so that it helps to create a certain state of busy-ness within my life. The pitfall of working from home is that I know I can work evenings and weekends to make up for time lost during the day. The reality is, that I don't want to work evenings and weekends.
So it is my plan to keep myself moving throughout the winter months ahead.
My muscles are still twitching from the stimulation they received yesterday. I shall motivate them again tonight at a Salsa class ... hopefully at a Zumba class on Wednesday ... then dancing on Thursday. And the list goes on.
I want to make a habit of moving and getting these muscles busy and active again. This body of mine could use quite a dose of fine tuning. Because I have a new ballgown to squeeze into, in about ... 82 days.
It's time to move it, move it!!
(And that is just how fun Zumba is!!)
Not only did I spend the better part of yesterday organizing a basement (which utilized a lot of dormant muscle groups), but I finally, finally went out last night and enjoyed two hours of Zumba!
I haven't felt physically exhausted for so long, that I forgot how good it felt.
My brain gets weary and my body tires, but not from over-use. In fact, the truth is quite the opposite.
One thing that I noticed when I went back and read the archives of this blog, is the amount that I used to accomplish in a day/week/month. I have become very lackadaisical this past year.
The busier you are, the more you get done. You have to organize your time, make and meet deadlines and very little time is wasted sitting around trying to get motivated. You just do it.
I believe that I have committed my evenings to 'things that I enjoy' so that it helps to create a certain state of busy-ness within my life. The pitfall of working from home is that I know I can work evenings and weekends to make up for time lost during the day. The reality is, that I don't want to work evenings and weekends.
So it is my plan to keep myself moving throughout the winter months ahead.
My muscles are still twitching from the stimulation they received yesterday. I shall motivate them again tonight at a Salsa class ... hopefully at a Zumba class on Wednesday ... then dancing on Thursday. And the list goes on.
I want to make a habit of moving and getting these muscles busy and active again. This body of mine could use quite a dose of fine tuning. Because I have a new ballgown to squeeze into, in about ... 82 days.
It's time to move it, move it!!
(And that is just how fun Zumba is!!)
Monday, January 10, 2011
1000
I am "1000 Posts Old" today. Funny, I don't feel a day over 300.
I went back to the archives yesterday ... back to December 29, 2007. I made it to April 20, 2008 before I had to come back to the real world and make supper.
I had hoped to write something deep and meaningful after scanning the 999 entries that have preceded this one.
But I kept stopping to read an entry here, there and everywhere.
What have I noticed? The seeds planted just over three years ago have taken root and grown. Almost every part of who I am today is a result of putting myself out there, doing 'impossible things' and risking a small piece of myself.
What is consistent? The love of writing, dancing ... my family grounds me ... friendships. Oh, the friendships!
Have I changed? I have become stronger and more confident. I have simply become more of who I have been all along.
What makes my heart sing? My children.
My Youngest ... who at age 12 has a solid foundation to build on. No matter what happens from this point on, I know that he will always be who he is. Only more.
My Second Born Son ... his middle name is my Dad's name. He is probably the one of my children who is most like my dad. He had an wealth of knowledge and perspective which far exceeds his 23 years. I wish, hope and part of me believes that Dad is be looking down on him and somehow encouraging to continue to be more of who he already is.
My First Born Son ... he has spent the last year rebuilding his life. It has been a tough road. I have closed my eyes and hoped for the best as he travelled that road his way. Not mine. We sat down last night and talked. We acknowledged how far he has come since this time, last year. He is developing self confidence. Possibly something that eluded him throughout his life (up to this point). Something I can totally relate to. He is finally starting to see the value in who he is. He is becoming the person that he always wanted to be (and has been all along).
The seeds are planted. Not only am I more fully grounded and stronger ... my children are benefiting from that sense of knowing who they are and where they come from.
I have researched my own family 'roots' and I have found such peace in feeling that I fit and truly belong not only within my family ... but my own little piece of this world.
I feel like I am teaching my children some valuable lessons by example. I see pieces of myself in all three of my children. I feel them finding their own unique way in the world.
What will change throughout the next 1000 posts? Hopefully more of the same. An evolution of who we already are ... but growing towards the people who we are meant to be.
I went back to the archives yesterday ... back to December 29, 2007. I made it to April 20, 2008 before I had to come back to the real world and make supper.
I had hoped to write something deep and meaningful after scanning the 999 entries that have preceded this one.
But I kept stopping to read an entry here, there and everywhere.
What have I noticed? The seeds planted just over three years ago have taken root and grown. Almost every part of who I am today is a result of putting myself out there, doing 'impossible things' and risking a small piece of myself.
What is consistent? The love of writing, dancing ... my family grounds me ... friendships. Oh, the friendships!
Have I changed? I have become stronger and more confident. I have simply become more of who I have been all along.
What makes my heart sing? My children.
My Youngest ... who at age 12 has a solid foundation to build on. No matter what happens from this point on, I know that he will always be who he is. Only more.
My Second Born Son ... his middle name is my Dad's name. He is probably the one of my children who is most like my dad. He had an wealth of knowledge and perspective which far exceeds his 23 years. I wish, hope and part of me believes that Dad is be looking down on him and somehow encouraging to continue to be more of who he already is.
My First Born Son ... he has spent the last year rebuilding his life. It has been a tough road. I have closed my eyes and hoped for the best as he travelled that road his way. Not mine. We sat down last night and talked. We acknowledged how far he has come since this time, last year. He is developing self confidence. Possibly something that eluded him throughout his life (up to this point). Something I can totally relate to. He is finally starting to see the value in who he is. He is becoming the person that he always wanted to be (and has been all along).
The seeds are planted. Not only am I more fully grounded and stronger ... my children are benefiting from that sense of knowing who they are and where they come from.
I have researched my own family 'roots' and I have found such peace in feeling that I fit and truly belong not only within my family ... but my own little piece of this world.
I feel like I am teaching my children some valuable lessons by example. I see pieces of myself in all three of my children. I feel them finding their own unique way in the world.
What will change throughout the next 1000 posts? Hopefully more of the same. An evolution of who we already are ... but growing towards the people who we are meant to be.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
You Can 'Go Home' Again
I visited with old friends of the family yesterday. We were brought together by happenstance, but it ended up being yet another one of life's little blessings.
I have a long time, near and dear friend that 'married into my family' in a long, round about way. She actually married my brother-in-law's cousin. So we aren't really related, but we now have ties that connect us beyond friendship. It is an amazing coincidence.
Yesterday, we celebrated this friend's milestone birthday. I walked into a room, where the first people I met (after the guest of honor) were these long time friends (and in-laws) of the family. We are connected not only by that familiar prairie road highway, but our family is connected in a myriad of ways. In small town communities, families and connections are so intertwined that it becomes confusing to those on the outside, looking in.
We talked easily of the past, present and future. We know all the same people. You refer to people by names, not titles when you have such a connection. As I recounted some of my stories, I was actually astounded in the many ways my present day life is still very much intertwined with my prairie roots.
I have been intermittently working on my dad's family history and I had just dusted off the idea and revisited it once again, the evening before I ran into these friends. Sitting and chatting with them reminded me of the feeling of 'coming home' that I get each and every time I actively put my mind to this project.
I am being drawn into my family, my roots, connections and the overwhelming sense of knowing I am on the path that I was destined to be on.
I can vividly remember my nine-year-old self quietly sobbing as we drove West and moved to our new home 41 years ago.
I remember my ten-year-old self vowing that I would become a teacher and move back to my Home Town when I grew up.
I remember when I revisited that 'home' at the age of 26. I had married a man and was living a life that was so far from the life I grew up in, that I felt like a foreigner within my own family.
The turning point in my life when at age 27, I packed up my children and physically moved back 'home'. Emotionally, I was still far from being back to the place that I knew.
Putting together Mom's family's story three years ago started me down a path, that has taken me places that I have never been/yet have always been. At age 47, I was finally starting to feel like I belonged within my family unit. Talking with them, hearing their thoughts, feeling the essence of my family ... I finally, finally started to see how they were a part of me as much as I was a part of them.
This latest journey - the journey which I fear I don't want to end (thus the reason I am dragging my heels perhaps??), is the most rewarding of all.
In talking with my dad's family, I am finding 'Dad' where I least expect him. He has come to life within the hearts, souls and beings of his family.
As I drive down these prairie roads of my past, I know that I have finally come home again. I'm here to stay.
I have a long time, near and dear friend that 'married into my family' in a long, round about way. She actually married my brother-in-law's cousin. So we aren't really related, but we now have ties that connect us beyond friendship. It is an amazing coincidence.
Yesterday, we celebrated this friend's milestone birthday. I walked into a room, where the first people I met (after the guest of honor) were these long time friends (and in-laws) of the family. We are connected not only by that familiar prairie road highway, but our family is connected in a myriad of ways. In small town communities, families and connections are so intertwined that it becomes confusing to those on the outside, looking in.
We talked easily of the past, present and future. We know all the same people. You refer to people by names, not titles when you have such a connection. As I recounted some of my stories, I was actually astounded in the many ways my present day life is still very much intertwined with my prairie roots.
I have been intermittently working on my dad's family history and I had just dusted off the idea and revisited it once again, the evening before I ran into these friends. Sitting and chatting with them reminded me of the feeling of 'coming home' that I get each and every time I actively put my mind to this project.
I am being drawn into my family, my roots, connections and the overwhelming sense of knowing I am on the path that I was destined to be on.
I can vividly remember my nine-year-old self quietly sobbing as we drove West and moved to our new home 41 years ago.
I remember my ten-year-old self vowing that I would become a teacher and move back to my Home Town when I grew up.
I remember when I revisited that 'home' at the age of 26. I had married a man and was living a life that was so far from the life I grew up in, that I felt like a foreigner within my own family.
The turning point in my life when at age 27, I packed up my children and physically moved back 'home'. Emotionally, I was still far from being back to the place that I knew.
Putting together Mom's family's story three years ago started me down a path, that has taken me places that I have never been/yet have always been. At age 47, I was finally starting to feel like I belonged within my family unit. Talking with them, hearing their thoughts, feeling the essence of my family ... I finally, finally started to see how they were a part of me as much as I was a part of them.
This latest journey - the journey which I fear I don't want to end (thus the reason I am dragging my heels perhaps??), is the most rewarding of all.
In talking with my dad's family, I am finding 'Dad' where I least expect him. He has come to life within the hearts, souls and beings of his family.
As I drive down these prairie roads of my past, I know that I have finally come home again. I'm here to stay.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
In a New York Minute
It was a short article in our local paper (that I read last night) that rose to my consciousness first thing this morning ...
Two years after rebuilding her life after a "tumultuous divorce" a newly single mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. The onset of her symptoms were fast and furious. She wrote that when she sat down in her car right after her diagnosis, the song playing on the radio was "A New York Minute" by the Eagles ...
Shortly after I read that article, I found this inspirational message about focusing on what is important and making the 'most of your Saturdays' in my inbox: http://www.mountainwings.com/past/1132.htm
I have been living my life with passion lately. There is something about the combined events of having the freedom to go out without needing a babysitter and turning 50 that has given me permission to my live to the fullest.
I laughingly told someone that I'm living my 'first' childhood. For the first time in 32 years, my children are all in varying stages of independence. For the first time in 50 years, I have had the confidence to spread my wings and fly solo for small, but regular periods of time.
I am pursuing that which interests me. I find myself laughing more than I ever have before. I'm living a very good life.
But when I think of it, I am consciously aware that my life is a little bit too much all about me lately.
When I woke up this morning and thought that all of this could change 'in a New York minute', instantly I knew where I needed to devote more of my time.
If life as I know it changed in the blink of an eye ... what would I regret?
That which sifts to the surface, is what needs to be addressed. As good as my life is right now, it has room for improvement. I want to live a life without regret. I know what needs to be done. And I know that I only have a finite amount of time to do it in.
The flip side of this, is that no matter how dark and hopeless things may seem ... that too, can change 'in a New York Minute'.
What life has taught me is to take nothing for granted. And never lose hope ...
Two years after rebuilding her life after a "tumultuous divorce" a newly single mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. The onset of her symptoms were fast and furious. She wrote that when she sat down in her car right after her diagnosis, the song playing on the radio was "A New York Minute" by the Eagles ...
Shortly after I read that article, I found this inspirational message about focusing on what is important and making the 'most of your Saturdays' in my inbox: http://www.mountainwings.com/past/1132.htm
I have been living my life with passion lately. There is something about the combined events of having the freedom to go out without needing a babysitter and turning 50 that has given me permission to my live to the fullest.
I laughingly told someone that I'm living my 'first' childhood. For the first time in 32 years, my children are all in varying stages of independence. For the first time in 50 years, I have had the confidence to spread my wings and fly solo for small, but regular periods of time.
I am pursuing that which interests me. I find myself laughing more than I ever have before. I'm living a very good life.
But when I think of it, I am consciously aware that my life is a little bit too much all about me lately.
When I woke up this morning and thought that all of this could change 'in a New York minute', instantly I knew where I needed to devote more of my time.
If life as I know it changed in the blink of an eye ... what would I regret?
That which sifts to the surface, is what needs to be addressed. As good as my life is right now, it has room for improvement. I want to live a life without regret. I know what needs to be done. And I know that I only have a finite amount of time to do it in.
The flip side of this, is that no matter how dark and hopeless things may seem ... that too, can change 'in a New York Minute'.
What life has taught me is to take nothing for granted. And never lose hope ...
Friday, January 7, 2011
Finally Taking My Own Advice
It seems I am constantly talking about going with the flow of life. Not going against the current. The best results (for me) come from following what feels natural and right.
Then there is my hair.
I fight with it each and every time I wash it. It has natural waves and kinks which are beyond annoying. It's not curly - it is inconsistently kinky and frizzy. After letting my hair dry naturally one day, my Second Son commented "... it does have a 'wild scientist' look about it."
I blow it dry and straighten it. I try and tame it into submission and make it become something it's not. Sleek and smooth. It's been like wading against the current, but I have continued to fight what comes naturally to my hair. And why does this matter right now?
'Zumba' season is before me. What does this have to do with my hair you ask? You must have never been to a Zumba class if you are wondering.
When you 'Zumba', you sweat. Profusely. Running down the face kind of sweating. It isn't pretty kind of sweating.
My forcefully tamed down hair is a mess at Zumba. The natural kinks and waves do their thing and I feel like a frizzed out, wet dish rag. With uncontrollable kinks and waves.
I made a hair appointment yesterday. This hair dresser took on my hair several months ago and my hair is not driving me crazy. I have not had trouble with this cut, not even from the onset. She has won my trust.
I set my challenge out before her yesterday. I explained that I am taking Zumba and I was hoping for a style that worked with my hair's natural tendency to wave. As an avid fellow Zumba-lover she knew exactly what I was talking about. And she took on the challenge that was my hair.
I walked away with the first hair style that has been noticeably different (minus the orange hair I donned as I prepared for The Great Dance Adventure about this time last year) in years.
Each of my sons walked in the door and did a double take and verbally expressed a bit of a "whoa!" expression as they saw my 'messy' new look. I still have a bit of a 'whoa'!! expression each time I pass by a mirror.
But I'm determined to give this a try. I'm going to go with the flow of what comes natural and easy to my hair. I am calling this new look my 'Zumba Hair'. Hair that I can take to the gym and walk out looking the same as I did when I walked in the door (and this a good thing?!?).
I've been going against the current when it comes to my hair. It's time to take my own advice and just go with what comes naturally. This could be a test in bravery. Or it could be life changing. Time will tell.
Then there is my hair.
I fight with it each and every time I wash it. It has natural waves and kinks which are beyond annoying. It's not curly - it is inconsistently kinky and frizzy. After letting my hair dry naturally one day, my Second Son commented "... it does have a 'wild scientist' look about it."
I blow it dry and straighten it. I try and tame it into submission and make it become something it's not. Sleek and smooth. It's been like wading against the current, but I have continued to fight what comes naturally to my hair. And why does this matter right now?
'Zumba' season is before me. What does this have to do with my hair you ask? You must have never been to a Zumba class if you are wondering.
When you 'Zumba', you sweat. Profusely. Running down the face kind of sweating. It isn't pretty kind of sweating.
My forcefully tamed down hair is a mess at Zumba. The natural kinks and waves do their thing and I feel like a frizzed out, wet dish rag. With uncontrollable kinks and waves.
I made a hair appointment yesterday. This hair dresser took on my hair several months ago and my hair is not driving me crazy. I have not had trouble with this cut, not even from the onset. She has won my trust.
I set my challenge out before her yesterday. I explained that I am taking Zumba and I was hoping for a style that worked with my hair's natural tendency to wave. As an avid fellow Zumba-lover she knew exactly what I was talking about. And she took on the challenge that was my hair.
I walked away with the first hair style that has been noticeably different (minus the orange hair I donned as I prepared for The Great Dance Adventure about this time last year) in years.
Each of my sons walked in the door and did a double take and verbally expressed a bit of a "whoa!" expression as they saw my 'messy' new look. I still have a bit of a 'whoa'!! expression each time I pass by a mirror.
But I'm determined to give this a try. I'm going to go with the flow of what comes natural and easy to my hair. I am calling this new look my 'Zumba Hair'. Hair that I can take to the gym and walk out looking the same as I did when I walked in the door (and this a good thing?!?).
I've been going against the current when it comes to my hair. It's time to take my own advice and just go with what comes naturally. This could be a test in bravery. Or it could be life changing. Time will tell.
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