Battle of the Cat Hair

My Sunday started with opening the living room blinds, sitting on the love seat that backs the window and simply nature gazing.

I was hoping I may spot a rabbit. No luck there but a few crows entertained me and the cats by diving off our neighbor's garage and swooping in to enjoy a puddle left by the previous night's rain.

I stood up and carried on with the day. My pajama pants were covered in cat hair. Instantly my mind rewound and remembered I had been sitting on a favored cat resting spot and realized I should not have been surprised.

I tossed my pj's into the laundry, cleaned the cat hair off the cushion(s) with a lint brush and carried on with the morning.

Soon thereafter, I was enjoying my morning ritual of following wherever the Internet may lead. Soon enough, I was listening to someone speaking on YouTube.

The sound of a voice coming from the kitchen attracted a cat. He saw I was sitting here with two free hands so he became quite insistent that those hands needed to be put to use. I petted him for a bit but he was shedding so much that I started ignoring him in the hope he would go back and rest on his favorite spot in the living room.

No luck.

He simply paced back and forth. The computer is sitting on a white table so his trail of black hair was obvious. He walked one way, I swiped up the cat hairs left in his wake. He walked the other way, I swept up more hair. He sat still. He shed. He moved. He shed. Inhale ... exhale ... shed.

It is no wonder I'm losing the battle of the cat hair around here. 

Did I go on a vacuum frenzy after my hairy morning? Heavens no. I know when to admit defeat. Score "one" for the cat hair yesterday. Score one for me too though. I know when to walk away ... 

I feel a song coming on:

You got to know when to hold 'em,

Know when to fold 'em,

Know when to walk away,

And know when to run.

You never count your cat hair

When you're sittin' at the table.

There'll be time enough for vacuumin'

When the shedding's done.

~ Slightly adapted lyrics from Kenny Rogers - The Gambler

Rekindling the Fire

I have been scrolling through this Sunday morning trying very hard not to drop down yet another Internet rabbit hole and lose myself and the day along with it. I have given myself until 10:00 a.m. and then I have made the decision to do "one hard thing" for as long as I can do it.

It is a writing assignment I started about a year ago. It was a promise to rewrite some travel journals, put them in date order and make the timeline easy to follow. The purpose was to reignite old memories, stir up new conversations and create a tangible piece of history to have and to hold.

Our thoughts, our memories and the way we retell our stories change over the course of time. There is something about taking a "snapshot" of those words written as one is living them, without a thought these journals may come to mean in the future.

When I reread my old thoughts, written as I was living them, there is something very poignant and raw about the truths behind the written word. Flashes of memories, feelings and perspective ping around within my mind and I am taken back in time.

Holding onto our memories is a gift. Having that history recorded in a journal, pictures or videos is kindling and has the power to reignite the moment.

I'm going to go "start a fire" this morning. It is my hope by completing this little project, it may be the kindling I need to finish other tasks I have only just begun.

Life's Little Wins

You've got to take the wins where you find them in life. Big, little or anywhere in between. If it makes you smile, call it a "win" and hold onto the moment while you have it.

The back story to my little "win" a few nights ago is the fact that after living an entire lifetime with the illusion that I looked younger than my years, the tides started to turn in and around the year I turned 49.

One person assumed my child friendly yard was for my grandchildren (I still don't have grandchildren so apparently that is not necessarily a good indication of one's age but I didn't know that at the time).

Shortly thereafter, I mentioned the fact that I was 49 years old to someone I just met. Instead of the usual comment about my appearance versus my actual age, I was on the receiving end of a very subtle look that said, "And you look every year of it".

There were clerks in the stores that offered me senior discounts. Granted some stores age requirements are younger than others but NONE of them were under the age of 55, while one extremely helpful waitress explicitly told me "You qualify for our senior's menu if you are 65" AFTER she asked me if I would like the senior meal.

There have been comments made when I was with my sisters (who are 9 and 11 years older than me) on how we looked like triplets. "You are all so alike! And the same age too!!" Yep. Payback's a _itch, isn't it? I laughed because I knew I was long overdue for this day of reckoning and I was actually pleased that my sisters got to witness it first hand. Yes, I finally caught up with my sisters (and that fact actually pleases me a lot).

You get the gist. I'm no spring chicken. I look my age. And that's okay. I've come to terms with this. It is true. What else can I say?

Back to the present now.

I presented my customer reward card and told the clerk I was a senior (55 year old at this particular store). The clerk who initially told me about the 20% off day at their store for those who are 55 years or older didn't blink an eye when she suggested this offer to me. I obviously looked every year of my age and perhaps even more. I have taken full advantage of this weekly offer ever since (20% off IS a big deal!!). Not a soul has blinked an eye. It's true. I'm 58 years old. This is no surprise to me.

FINALLY! only two days ago, I recited my line "And I'm a senior ..." to the cashier ringing up my purchase. And he replied with a smile, "Well, I think I'm going to have to check your ID!" I assumed he was joking. Younger people have made the odd comment which I know is a joke when they make comments about my age. Yep. I hear them. I laugh and say thank you. But this time, he was for real. "You really want to see my ID?" I asked with a laugh. He accepted my offer and I walked out the door feeling at least four years younger.

It was a small win. But it still counts.

Take your "wins" wherever you find them. The small stuff matters. The little wins mean a lot. Any time life offers you a smile or small chuckle go with it. That is a win in my books. How many "wins" will you find hidden within your day? May you tally them up and remember the little things that matter the most.

She's In My Head

Have you ever been watching TV, listening to a song or hearing someone speak when suddenly it feels like someone pulled the unspoken words out of your head and said them aloud?

I have.

Grey's Anatomy seems to speak to a different part of my thoughts each time I watch a rerun of an episode I have watched numerous times before. Last night I was watching an episode where one surgeon was mentoring another and attempting to teach her all she knew before she died of a terminal brain tumor. These doctors spent night and day together at the hospital and the mentor-ship became personal.

When the terminally ill doctor started showing signs that the tumor was progressing, her life hung in the balance throughout the episode. Emotions at the surface, Arizona (the doctor being mentored) started to feel the reality unfolding and these words tumbled out of her:

“She’s in my head ... but I’m not ready for my head to be the only place she exists.”

Mom. I thought of Mom ...

My thoughts became so intertwined with Mom's throughout the years. The feeling escalated throughout her final year and by the end I felt she was as much a part of me, as I was myself. I was lost for a while as I adjusted to losing that part of my former self.

When she died, the feeling of closeness was so palpable. I felt her. I heard her. I predicted what she would have said and how she would have felt. I continued to advocate for her as though she was standing beside me and could hear every word I said.

It has been a gradual process but I have started to feel my own presence dominate once again. I continue to uphold Mom's memory and take a stand when someone misquotes or misunderstands her. But she isn't in my head any more.

Life has moved on without her.

Oprah speaks of the feeling that we are spiritual beings living in a human body. I don't know how much I understand or believe that statement but I do know Mom's energy was so very real right after she died. I felt her presence so keenly. I remember the feeling but I don't feel it so much now.

Someone was speaking of a topic where, in the past, Mom said in no uncertain terms the truth as she knew it. I heard Mom's words, I felt her conviction and I have fought to uphold her truth. The last time I found myself in this conversation I've had many times before, a little of Mom's fire within me had died. I still heard her. I continued to back her up. But the fire was missing.

It was a relief. Yet I missed it.

It has not been quite two years and I still feel like I'm regaining my footing at times. I have hit a new plateau. It feels like the circle of life has cycled around and I'm back to a place I have been before.

... ... ...

I wrote these words and stepped away to make myself some toast.

As soon as I saw my hands carefully spreading the butter to the edges of the toast, I saw Mom's hands buttering toast as she stood at the island in her kitchen. The moment I realized I took too much margarine as I went back for the final swipe, I heard Mom say, "I always try to take the exact amount I need so I don't get toast crumbs in the margarine." I placed the butter knife atop a Kleenex I had used for some minor wipes and swipes this morning and knew I would use this relatively clean tissue to swipe off the knife before I placed it in the dishwasher. I heard Mom again, "I just rip part of a paper towel off to clean off the knife ..."

Yes, I hear you Mom. I always have and I can only assume I always will. Thank you.

The World is Whispering to Me (aka: I Hate Change!)

I feel like the world is trying to reroute my comfortable little morning routine.

I used to love reading the almost-daily posts from my favorite bloggers. I would fill myself up with humor, perspective and little nuggets of inspiration before I sat still and wrote my own thoughts of the day. I would have a cup of coffee or two while I wrote then tend to all that needed tending before my daycare days began. Then during our afternoon quiet time, I would sit down with various word and number puzzles to satisfy my need to challenge my mind as my daycare family slept.

Life has evolved and morphed into my revised routines since then.

My favorite bloggers have either turned to other social media outlets or write only sporadically or not at all. I've tried to find new favorite authors and have had mild success. My interests have evolved, the world isn't the same and I haven't found a comfortable niche of regular bloggers to follow. I closed my daycare, work outside of my home and no longer have "quiet time" in the middle of my day. So I have skipped straight to my word and number puzzles to kick start my days.

My puzzle providers have changed a few times over the course of time. I would seek out and find my favorite puzzles in new places. I added to my selection of puzzles and my time commitment to puzzling has increased.

A few weeks ago, I thought it was happening again. Most of my puzzles were unavailable when I went to the site. I thought, "Here we go again. They are closing down shop and I will have to find new puzzles elsewhere." But there was a ray of hope. Instead of a dead end, it simply looked like the puzzle was slow in loading. I came back and tried, tried and tried again. Eventually, through the course of the next few hours, I could load each of my favorite puzzles and still have the satisfaction of completing that little morning task before carrying on with the day.

Enter one more glitch. My son just started some morning classes three days a week which means I have to leave the house an hour earlier than usual. Instead of bemoaning the fact that I will either lose an hour of my quiet morning time OR I will have to get up an hour earlier, I became consumed with the fact that I won't have time to wait for my morning puzzles to become available before I start the day.

I took a long, deep breath and told myself there was a work-around. I would get up an hour earlier. I would write first. I would load this morning's puzzles and leave them open so I can work on them tomorrow morning. I would find a way to overcome this obstacle.

Never mind the fact that I could and should be taking this bonus hour and going for a brisk morning walk. Or perhaps try to restart the "exercise" habit. Maybe even vacuum? No, no, no. I continue to try to load each of my puzzles as I write this post and feel a small bit exasperated that I must put this habit of challenging my mind on hold.

Do you ever feel like the world is trying to tell you something? Then when you don't listen, that "whisper" becomes an inconvenience. Then the inconvenience becomes a shouting match?

Yes, World. I hear you. But I'm not listening to your call. I just want my little piece of normalcy. Inspirational reading material and puzzles to challenge my mind. Is that really too much to ask?

Apparently.

The Whispers

I sat down with Oprah's book "The Path Made Clear" yesterday. Quite possibly all I needed to do was to reread the names of the chapters to put me on the right path but instead I decided to listen to the free audio book I received (compliments of Oprah, included in the ticket price of seeing her Live!) while I read along in her book.

I was sitting on the couch with the lure of daytime television and Netflix vying for my attention. My cell phone was close by and I couldn't seem to stop myself from checking Facebook updates and listening (hoping) for incoming messages from outside our home.

I read through the chapters "The Seeds" and "The Roots" with ease. Then I reached the chapter named "The Whispers".

I have been quiet and still enough to hear the whispers of my mind before but in this highly connected and rather committed life I lead, I can feel the whispers gaining momentum. I'm sensing their call in the way wake up in the morning and how I feel as I go through the motions of living my life.

It is summer holiday time. "I need to seek out some quiet" I thought to myself. I only have a week. I had other hopes and plans for that week. I have been overspending on my renovation budget and booking myself into a quiet retreat felt possible but not plausible.

Then I heard within the quiet whispers of my mind an invitation my son issued to me. Would I spend some time out at their farm while they went on a holiday?

Yes! Yes!! YES!!

I can and I will and I WANT to do this! I can't wait. I hope the whispers of my thoughts are patient as we bide our time and await this holiday where I will be alone with my thoughts, two dogs, two rabbits and an ever growing cat population.

No Where to Go, No Where to Be

Today is the third day of the long weekend. 

Day #1 was a very social day. It was perfect in every way but by the time I arrived home at 11:30 p.m., I was over-the-moon happy to know the next day was free and clear of all duties and obligations.

Day #2 started out as a cat day. I followed wherever the day led and by the end of it all, I had done three loads of laundry, mowed the lawn, colored my hair, read a short book and barbequed our supper. I did all of this by the time I left for my out-of-the-house commitment I had the prior day.

Today is Day #3. Nothing but vacuuming is on today's agenda. It is a day that can unfold in whatever way happens. 

I had truly hoped to accomplish something of note during these three days off but the truth of the matter is that a three day weekend is pretty close to my norm. The only difference is that I get to stay home all day today. I have no where I must go this afternoon. No one is expecting me.

Maybe I'll go for a walk ...