Fifteen Minutes

I have been trying to follow "FlyLady's" pointers and wisdom about getting rid of the clutter and overwhelmed feeling of "I can't do it all!" and one of her mantras is to just do something for fifteen minutes. Set a timer and see how much you can accomplish. Break things down into small segments and don't allow yourself to become overwhelmed.

I seem to have the mentality of thinking that I need an entire day or weekend or holiday to accomplish "big things", when in reality all I need to do is start puttering away "fifteen minutes at a time".

I thought I didn't have enough time to stop and write this morning. Then I looked at the clock. I had fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to write whatever fell out of my fingertips. It might be good, it might be tedious, it most likely will be a tad boring. Maybe if I'm lucky I can make myself smile with my thoughts (I amuse myself easily).

I spent the weekend thinking I had to do impossible things.

Saturday I spun in circles. It was a one step forward, two steps back kind of day. I created my own backwardness. But I sort of enjoyed it. I love a day without a firm agenda. I seem to think I need that day in a weekend, I waste a lot of my time thinking this way.

But what did I do? I set myself up for a productive Sunday. I bought the tools I needed to do the job I set out to do.

Often the mere feat of thinking I have to move a mountain in a day overwhelms me. So I only shovelled the mountain little bits of a time, convincing myself that I could stop any time I wanted to stop. I bit off only what I could chew. In the end, I ate an awful lot.

I created a self imposed deadline so I had to stop at a specific time. I failed by a half hour but I didn't want to burn the midnight oil and pay the price this morning. So I stopped at a reasonable time, then accomplished one more dirty task before I hopped into the shower.

Cleaning up after a dirty day is so rewarding. I don't even think about how much I hate dealing with the whole "fixing my hair" thing when my shower becomes my reward for a day well spent.

I didn't incorporate the "fifteen minute mentality" into my Sunday. But I didn't overdo either. I took an ugly job (painting baseboards and door jams) and just did it. Now if I can just push through the week and take fifteen minutes at a time to "clear a hot spot" and just chisel away at the mountain, maybe that will energize me enough to think a one day weekend is too short to waste doing nothing.

My fifteen minutes are up. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?

Writers Block

My word well feels like it is running dry and I am not quite sure whether to dig deeper, start digging somewhere new or fill up the hole and walk away.

I'm disappointed my holiday at home did not replenish my word supply. It seems I can only fulfill one part of me at a time these days.

This past holiday set me up for disaster. Not really. That is a little dramatic. But what this past holiday did was open my eyes to how badly our home has fallen into disrepair. Suddenly "that" is where I want to direct my resources.

Then I looked at my credit card balance. This rate of spending cannot be maintained for much longer. I must cut back. Which brings me back to what I can do for free.

Writing does not cost a cent. Writing is free therapy for me. In fact I even get paid a small amount to write.

I unleash my thoughts and set them free. By setting my words free it feels like I have opened so many windows of opportunity.

I am a pretty open book. When you are open, you invite others to open up about themselves. This creates an atmosphere where "real conversations" can happen.

I thrive on "real".

Suddenly my fingers stopped typing. Perhaps that is the crux of my problem here. Maybe I stopped being real. Bare with me for a moment so I can scan some of my recent posts to see if I've been "real" or just pretending ...

....

Okay, I'm back. I wasn't gone long. I didn't learn much. What I did find is that I don't write well when my head is occupied with to-do-lists.

I write better after living a truly fulfilling or a truly awful event. But if too much time elapses before I can sit down and write about "said event", my words lose their power.

I need time to wade through my early morning thoughts and I can already feel the daylight trickling out of my morning quiet time and there is a small ache that is starting to form.

I don't like to squeeze writing in as part of my things-to-do-before-7:30 routine. I like to sit and mellow with a cup of coffee and go with the flow. The trouble is, even when I had that gift of time during my holiday I didn't utilize it to write.

I used to send off random emails, letters and cards on a regular basis. I don't do that so much any more. When I do, it feels right and it feels good. I know I need to do more of that.

How do I best invest that which I have so it grows instead of dwindles? Do I quit writing my columns? They are not extraordinary. They are simply the best I have to offer from a month of trying to write most days.

I have started an email to one of my editors with a highly edited version of "all of the above" and it ends with "... and I don't think you are getting your money's worth out of me".

I am letting that sit for a while before I decide what part of it to send.

Should I quit? Should I continue to do what I do and just do my best? Or do I just need to get more "real" in my writing and dare to speak what is really going on in my mind? And do I even know what that is any more?

I have been editing my thoughts and censoring my words before they are written. Not that I have been thinking anything all that deep but I am terribly concerned about anyone taking offence to that-which-I-write. So I write carefully.

Can I write carefully and still be honest and real? I think I have in the past. I feel ruled by "fear" at the moment. I am not exactly certain why.

I do know that fear is my enemy. It robs me of power, energy, faith and trust.

Maybe it is the moon. Most days I feel "good enough". Today? I feel like dirt. I feel trampled on, worn out and messy.

Maybe today is not the day to sent that email off to my editor. Maybe I'll save that for a more powerful kind of day. I feel one on the horizon.

My weekend has gone from one where I knew I had it "off" three weeks ago and I had already started the celebration in my mind. Then a few days ago, I got the call that idea was cancelled and "We can work!" Then yesterday, I received another call that said "Let's not work until next weekend". My celebratory mood lost a bit of its momentum but I think I can find it.

"Numbers" is not where it is at for me. I enjoy the challenge. I like to know I can do this, learn things and expand my horizons. But never in a million years would I choose to wake up and work with numbers all day.

"Words" are my salvation. I think I'm going to start restructuring and strengthening my existing well. They are there somewhere. I just need a little bit of rain to fill up that which has run dry.

Pick yourself up and dust yourself off this morning. Do your best. Don't fight your enemies when you are weak. Just persevere. One forward step at a time.

Recharge yourself in whatever manner works for you.

Walking in Mom's Footsteps

I am approximately two months younger than my mom was before she "lost" my dad, her husband of 34 years plus the five years they knew each other before that. She would turn 55 years old less than two weeks from the day that she lost the man she married and faced a life she could never in a million years have predicted.

I can't think of one thing in the world that could have prepared Mom for the life she would now face On her own, with a seventeen year old son who would graduate in three months and a twenty three year old daughter with a marriage in crisis. My sisters were only 32 and 34 years old at the time. Younger than my oldest son ...

It is good that we don't know what life has in store. It seemed impossibly hard at the time but we only had to digest one day at a time. In retrospect, I see now how Mom was already looking ahead and preparing herself in ways we couldn't even begin to imagine, as her children.

Dad was hospitalized for the four years, eight months and almost two weeks he lived after the massive heart attack that stole the essence of who he was. There is no word that defined Mom's role at that time. She fell somewhere in between the cracks of being a wife and a widow. It is a hard place to live - in that place with no name.

But Mom persevered. She just kept taking the next forward step at a time when she had no idea where those steps would lead.

She didn't ask for help. In the immediate aftermath of Dad's heart attack, family came out to offer comfort, support and friendship. I remember little from that time.

All I seem to remember is Mom bouncing back and holding down the fort, running the household, raising my brother and (from what I can guess now that I have a little more perspective) trying to keep things as normal as possible for my youngest brother. He was a young man cub, just on the cusp of being in a place where Dad would have probably had so many life lessons to pass along. But just as Mom was used to the role where she became a cub scout leader because Dad was not available for those extracurricular roles, Mom stepped up to the plate and became who my brother needed her to be.

Mom and Dad had a reputation of taking in family members who moved to their city and providing lodgings and the comforts of home as needed. Mom continued to fill that role and in doing so, she came to know many up and comers within our family.

Was that when she realized the value of keeping company with those younger than her? As long as I have a memory, Mom has never been one to complain of any kind of body or health ailment. When Dad was hospitalized and nothing of significance would change over the course of time, she said she could have screamed when people asked how he was. There was nothing new to report and there never would be. For a person who never talked about sickness at the best of times, she most certainly didn't change when times changed.

Never once did I hear Mom complain about being alone or having everything fall on her shoulders. She hired people to do what she could not do and we did hear a lot about how no one in this world could work the way Dad did or perfect the job that was being done to the standard that Dad upheld. Living with a perfectionist is hard. Living without them is harder.

No one would ever meet Dad's standards. Whether it was in regards to home/yard/or vehicle repair, nor in any other way. As far as I know, Mom never even considered the possibility.

It was Mom against the world. She did what had to be done and hired people to do what she could not. There was no such thing as defeat for Mom.

That was thirty two years ago. And Mom is still feisty, determined and a force to be reckoned with.

She still despises talking about illness, aches and pains and anything related to doctoring. The idea of moving out of her home and moving into a condo type of arrangement with other "seniors" is almost unspeakable. Mom has never wanted and still does not want to live with "old people". I thought that was a rather hilarious statement because Mom is 87 years old herself. Until I toured the home my uncle has just moved into.

My uncle could benefit from some of the services of a retirement home and having the option of meals and laundry being included was a good fit for him at this juncture of his life. He has been through a rather worrisome time and it would seem (from the outside, looking in) that having little to worry about would alleviate some of his stress load and give him the opportunity to live a more carefree life.

Except there are so many other people so much worse off than him, who live there.

When I was talking with Mom last night, I confessed that I finally had a glimmer of understanding about her deference about moving into a retirement type of setting. We spoke of my uncle who is a well read, educated, well spoken and thoroughly interesting man, being in an environment where he could all-too-easily become someone's sounding board as they go on tirelessly about their ill health and other woes. He is so kind that he would stop and listen for as long as a person cared to talk. That is just who he is.

Just because a person can use some of the services provided in this setting does not mean that they have lost their ability to live a full life outside of their room.

My uncle has so much to offer this world. He listens and understands in a way few others do. He is so empathetic, compassionate and caring that my fear is that his positive energy could be drained if he doesn't have an outlet which "fills him up" on the other hand.

On another note, I have an aunt who moved to an assisted living facility (not quite) three years ago. She is four years older than my uncle but was close to his age now, when she moved in. Granted, she has a few more health issues to contend with. But it saddens me to hear how the past few years have worn her down.

Two of her sisters have died during that time. She has lost a fair bit of her vision and is unable to read. She lives in a home where people, friends she has known for a good part of her life, move in and "move on". As a rule, there is usually only one way to leave a facility such as this. I don't know how it must feel to live in an environment where death and dying is commonplace.

My aunt has lost so much. Her body is fighting mightily on but she is tired. She phones Mom and they have run out of things to talk about. My aunt used to be full of news because she was living in a facility where she saw and heard so much news to share and brighten Mom's day.

I look at growing old so differently these days. I am adopting a lot of Mom's thinking with a renewed perspective. I look at Mom, the life she has had and where she is at. People admire Mom for her strength, feisty and independent ways, her quick thinking and her ability to stand on her own in the face of adversity.

I don't know how she does it. But I am starting to see why she advised me not too long ago, that I need to find young friends. Too much talk of illness, death, dying and all of the things that can go wrong in the last half of one's life is the wrong place to divert one's energy.

I believe my sisters have this thing figured out because they surround themselves in their family. Their children, their grandchildren, youth, vitality and that invincible spirit one has when life hasn't taught you too many harsh lessons.

Where do I want to be thirty years from now? I want to be happy, healthy and nestled in an environment where I feel needed, wanted and loved. I "want it all". I want all the things that money can't buy.

I look at who Mom was, when she was my age. I look at who she is today. I look at who I am and I wonder what I can learn.

Life has become so terribly serious. We need to surround ourselves with people who bring us up and draw us out to become the best person we are capable of being. I count myself very fortunate. I have all that I need to get where I hope to be.

One small step at a time, in the direction I hope to go will propel me from one year into the next. If I can become half the person my mom is, I will be content. In fact, I am already pretty content, so I'm halfway there.

“Everyone needs to be needed, wants to be wanted, and loves to be loved.” ~ Heather Lende

Rebooting and Restarting the Day

Getting up at 5:30 in the morning, after a week of holidays, certainly had a way of taking the wind out of my sails. I was toast by 1:00 yesterday afternoon and sawing logs on the couch before my supper was digested last night.

I thought that waking up with my alarm this morning would reset and reboot me and my day. It didn't quite happen that way.

I hate when a morning starts with the need for troubleshooting right from the get-go.

Our antivirus program did not automatically update and I couldn't figure out how to solve the dilemma without the enlisting the help from their support staff. About an hour later, the issue was resolved and I was on my way to try and salvage what was left of my time before "my day" walked in the door.

Then I tried to print off a utility bill but I couldn't sign into my account. I tried, tried and tried again. Remember that definition of "insanity"? Trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? I thought persistence would win. I was wrong.

The inability to print off my bill reminded me that I hoped to figure out why I couldn't balance my credit card yesterday morning, so I headed off to my credit card account to solve that mystery.

After I succeeded at that mission, I came back to my utility account with a fresh eye and realized I had been using the wrong user name. Here I thought it had something to do with our antivirus program not renewing ...

I was hoping to have time to update my daycare blog, write a little here and still have words, time and inspiration to send off a few emails and a letter. I failed. Well no, I didn't fail at everything. I wrote the emails that were at the tip of my fingertips and trusted they must have been the words that most needed to be written.

Then my daycare day began.

I don't know if it was me or if it was the kids. But we had a morning of "testing limits". There was more crying here this morning than there has been in the past two months.

I tried downloading a new game for our LeapPads, to make them more alluring to the younger set, who think they are old enough to play on the iPad. Guess what? More troubleshooting was necessary.

Eventually, we made it out for a walk and I thought the spell was broken. Then I went to continue to update my daycare blog and all the pictures I downloaded yesterday turned into little icons and I had to do more troubleshooting to finally get them working again.

So here I am, approximately where I had hoped to be at about 5:45 this morning.

Is it too late to reboot and restart this day?

My Whole Life Could Be a Vacation

You know you have it good when you wake up "the morning after" your vacation and you welcome the return of life-as-you-know-it.

That is "me" this morning.

My holiday was a good one. I couldn't keep that pace up all of the time so I am welcoming the idea of my return-to-work mode.

It is the mode where I stop working at the end of my day. It is the mode where I stop and smell the roses dandelions during my day. It is the mode where I actually even stop to eat (and by extension, that usually involves some kind of cooking). It is also the mode where I stop for an hour or so in the middle of the day and savor some quiet time.

My day job guides me into a better way of living. Being responsible for four to five little people helps me be more responsible to myself and my youngest son.

In ten days of vacationing at home, I turned on the dishwasher once. In ten days, I cooked two meals and I may have defrosted a few more.

It was nothing at all for me to be knee deep in a project of some sort at 8:00 at night and the thought of stopping to eat (never mind cook) a meal was the furthest thing from my mind. One night, it was 10:00 and I was winding down to get ready for bed when I remembered we hadn't had supper. I decided not to remind my son of that fact. He remembered about a half hour after I did.

Mom often mentions that "eating is highly overrated" and I tend to agree with her. I wouldn't mind if someone supplied three meals a day and a few healthy snacks but when I am left to my own devices, those very same meals are nothing but work.

Yes, my vacation was a holiday from cooking.

Perhaps that is why I don't mind being back in "work mode". It means sustenance will be provided in some capacity in and around three times per day.

If only I could find someone to cook for me, my whole life would be a vacation ...

Before/After Vacation Photos

I have already gone on far too long about my holiday reno and repair projects. So I shall let the pictures do the talking for me as I sit back and stare at that-which-is-fixed-up around here this morning. On my last day of holidays ...

Dog run area - before (weeds, lumpy, grade sloping towards house)

Dog run area - after (need I say more?)

Dog area - before (lumpy lawn, dug up areas beside the house, cement blocks are stacked up by the house in an attempt to have a bit of a slope away from the house and fill the void between the dirt and the deck area to keep small pets and other wildlife from moving in under our deck).

Dog area - after (it will look ever-so-much better when the new grass starts growing)

My dream for this area is patio stones, a gazebo and to convert the "dog area" into relaxing sitting area. Oh well. Dreams are good. Reality I can afford is better.

Area by swinging gate - before (a rut in the grass that you can't see, from swinging the gate during the spring/muddy season + dirt and grass that won't grow beside the sidewalk)

Area by swinging gate - after (I feel giddy every time I walk by this now, with patio stones "paving the way" for the swinging gate and alleviating the dirt by the sidewalk)

Bathroom - before (picture does the bathroom justice - the floor/counter tiles are painted an almond color and are terribly chipped and damaged; the cupboards are painted white with a lot of chips in the paint)

Bathroom - after (paint is grey; tiles are white; and cupboards match the mirror frame perfectly! Things you can't see - the paint I scraped off the door hinges from our last messy painting job)

Jet - before (take note of the perfectly black left ear)

Jet - after ("I always wanted to be a black and white cat!")

The final dollar amount spent is still pending. 

I bought new bathroom faucets and I need to hire a plumber to install them. I bought a new door knob which doesn't fit, so unless I find one that fits the existing door knob opening I may have a "credit" to add to the final dollar amount spent. Not to mention the frustration levels that peaked, over a missing screw for a cupboard door handle. 

I feel like this bathroom project has been a bit of a scavenger hunt as I buy and return and buy and return and buy and return some more. I think Home Depot may have an undercover surveillance cop monitor my purchases and returns the next time I walk in the door to return the door knob. And the mirror ... because the beautiful framed mirror you see in the picture above? It seems to have some minor damage and it should be returned as well...

I can't stop staring at our new bathroom. It is a sight to behold. It is amazing what four days of manual labor and $1,186.47 ($525.00 of that total is what I paid for labor and it was worth EVERY penny!) can do for a room.

Now if only this was not what you see the moment you look outside of the bathroom:

Hallway - before (chipped/scratched paint on door frame/baseboards; chips in the wall; broken cold register vent ... and that is only the beginning).

To be continued ...

(I hope)

Counting My Pennies

A combination of excessive spending, month-end recaps and accounting have me counting up all of my pennies this morning. And oh, what a lot of pennies there were to account for.

I have devoted my holiday to our home and invested my money in things that don't really show to the naked eye (or those who don't know what the "before" picture look like). But they matter.

A small bit of yard maintenance added to a bathroom touch up has equalled less than the money I spent on my more frivolous vacations this year.

Two days in Las Vegas + a five day trip to go East = seven days of frivolous spending.

I have had seven days of spending throughout this vacation at home. I have spent money each and every day. It felt like I spent a small fortune on my home maintenance and repair project, but as it turns out I have still spent less than the money spent on my gad-about trips.

I have no regrets. I did what felt right at the time. I followed some whims. I followed my heart. But this past week? My heart was happy and content right here at home.

Mom always said she had a very hard time coming to terms with spending money on a vacation. A trip comes and goes and you have nothing to show for it (I don't think pictures and memories matter that much to Mom when it comes to extravagant spending). She always said she could spend that same amount of money on their home and she could enjoy the benefit of that spending for years.

After my one week stay/work at home vacation, I am grasping what Mom has always felt and believed.

It has been thoroughly satisfying to putter away, aid and abet those I hired to do the hard work and see a small transformation in just a few areas within our house and yard.

The guy I hired to do my painting and other miscellaneous tasks was a salesman. He was telling me that what I was spending my money on was not increasing the value of our home. I couldn't seem to make him understand that I really couldn't care less about increasing the equity I have in our home.

For one thing, I don't have the kind of money it takes to do a full kitchen &/or bathroom reno. Nor do I have the time.

My goal was to increase the value of our home to me. The person who cleans, maintains and is responsible for it. I want to feel good about where we live. I simply want to live in a home where it looks like somebody cares.

I had one short week to do what I could, to inspire and motivate me to clean, repair and keep doing small things as I go along, instead of focusing on the overwhelming feeling of falling so far behind on everything house related.

I believe I have two good days of work I can do ahead of me. I don't need someone to hold my hand and carry me through. The heavy work is done. At least for the moment.

I really needed to be reminded of the fact that I can do hard things. I can putter away and make a small difference over a longer time period.

Yes, I still feel overwhelmed when I look at the "next" room. That hasn't changed substantially.

What has changed is the way I feel inside. Slow and steady gets you somewhere. Anywhere. Sometimes anywhere but where you are at is exactly where you need to be. Physically and mentally.

Using my body and mind has been invigorating. I haven't ran any marathons here. I have been working at a regulated pace. I seem to be spending an extraordinary amount of time making returns and repurchasing what I think we need.

My credit card will need a vacation after this holiday. Not from misuse. I haven't made any extravagant purchases, But the frequency of usage due to my slow and steady spending is wearing the numbers off my tired old card.

I stopped and tallied up my spending this morning. It felt like I was going to be in way over my head. But I'm not. I'm holding steady my break even point.

I haven't worried about the money as I go along. I seem to have a mental scale that keeps me from going overboard. When it starts tipping to far one way, I seem to reign myself in.

I have found myself putting that-which-is-not-necessary back on the shelf. Even after holding it and carrying it around for a while. Something sane and rational is happening within my subconscious mind. I seem to have this internal balance thing in check.

There have been times when I have spent money to fill a void. That isn't happening here. I am spending what is necessary. I have splurged by replacing that-which-was-still-serviceable with new and matching and a little bit pretty. At least to me.

It's been a great vacation. I still have three days ahead of me. I am almost at the point where my spending is done. Except I have one more return to make. And oh, if I just bought a can of paint so I could do some touch ups when time and energy allowed, maybe, just maybe, I could try and find a way to keep this ambition alive.