A Room With a Door

I have been finding it impossible to book a date, a time and a place with myself to fulfil Julia Cameron's (author of "An Artist's Way") suggestion to make Artist Dates with yourself. I believe she suggested doing this on a weekly basis. The idea sounded lovely. Until I got home.

My life is occupied. I wake up early so I can write, do my puzzles, banking, tend to cat litter and the odd household task and make any outbound calls that are necessary before I must step out of the house and begin the day. 

My days are long. I don't get home until 7:30 p.m. most days. Later, if I have an errand to run. Since my wake-up time is at 5:00 a.m., I don't have much life in me at the end of each day. I am normally in bed by or before 9:00 p.m. Weekdays are not a day to set aside for an Artist's Date.

Then come the weekends. I fritter away a lot of my time on weekends. I can lose myself in the mundane. I get caught up on Netflix, Facebook scrolling, YouTube videos that are at the end of an Internet search which leads me astray. This could and should be a perfect time to make a date with myself to nurture my inner artist. But it isn't.

I like to have the ability to simply go with the flow on weekends. I don't love making plans which encroach on my days off. I like to follow wherever the road leads. As a rule, when one thing falls naturally into the next and the next without a schedule and time restraints, it results in the best unplanned sequence of events one could ever hope for. The best part is that you don't "hope" for anything at all. Because there has been no set up to allow space for a let down. 

Add to this fact, my love for simply being home. I don't want to go places, do things or leave this most wonderful "nest" I live in. Home is where I want to be. I must force myself out of it five days of the week. I don't want to book time away from the place I most want to be.

Which brings me to "yesterday". Yesterday, I was on a quest to find a picture I knew I had which was within the many boxes of pictures, mementos, cards/letters, bits of history and other miscellaneous items of Mom's I have not yet sorted and organized.

I knew exactly where to find the picture I was looking for. It was in a photo box where Mom once told one of her great-grandchildren, was where she stored her most special pictures. This prophecy continues to be fulfilled. Mom's photo box IS filled with pictures that are special to me. This little box was stored within a huge Rubbermaid container full of other photos, etc, etc, etc.

I pushed, pulled, carried and dragged this heavy box upstairs yesterday morning and parked it in "Mom's room" with a purpose.

"Mom's room" is one of the most unused rooms in our home. The door is closed so the cats don't scratch the couch or shed needlessly throughout the room. The room is filled with items I received from Mom's home. This is the room where I want to display family pictures. The room is filled with a sense of serenity.

As soon as I found this box, I made a date with myself. An Artist's Date.

I will pack up and move into this room-with-a-door this upcoming weekend. On whatever day opens itself up to the opportunity. I will set myself up as if I was away from home. I will pack up nourishment for the day, coffee and all the comforts of home. Then I will close the door and immerse myself in memories, photographs, bits and pieces of "Mom" and the history within the box.

I have photo albums, picture frames, pretty boxes, clear 3-ringed sleeves where I can organize bits of memories and history into a binder. I shall open the box full of special photographs and begin. 

I shall make a date with myself, for myself, by myself in "Mom's Room". A room with a door.

P.S. No cell phones allowed! I will be out of service and out of range during this date.

Morning Pages and Me

It is a challenge to wake up early enough to sit and write three pages by long hand every morning. 

I endure. I have my favorite pen, a very nice journal and a cup of coffee at my side as I write by the glow of our under-counter lighting. It is really quite relaxing and enjoyable. It is a lovely way to start a morning.

Someone is feeling a little neglected though:

Jet chases my pen as I write, lays upon my book, my arm, the table and generally just keeps saying, "I'm here. Love me. Pet me. Appreciate me. Don't forget about me."

Morning pages and me. And Jet. It is our new reality.

Time Warps

I have been thinking of a conversation I had with my sisters when I had just found out I was expecting my youngest son.

I was 37 years old at the time. Ancient. Prior to this new found discovery, I thought I was in the middle stages of raising my (then) youngest son who was 10 years old. My sisters came to visit me without the entanglements of children or husbands. It was just us girls sitting together reflecting on the moment I was in.

I was somewhat envious of my sisters' ability to pick up and go without dependants in tow. Here I was, about to become a new parent at the ripe old age of 37. I remember saying (something to the effect of) "I will be 50 years old before I can go somewhere without kids ... [we laughed] ... you guys will be 59 and 61! [the tone of our laughter changed as we reflected upon this reality]"

Needless to say, those years have come and gone. I have happily packed my bags and gone to my sisters, gone with my sisters and have spent a lot of time enjoying the company of my sisters despite our advancing ages.

The year I turned 50, was the year my middle son moved back home to save up for his eventual move out to his farm. I had a reliable adult on standby and he encouraged me to go out and live my life ("So when you start repeating your stories when you are old, they would be interesting ones").

I went back to school. I went to a dance competition. I joined Zumba and Belly Fit classes. I started taking classes to become a group fitness instructor. I went on an Alaskan cruise. Those are the highlights that come to mind during those years of independence. I did this after I closed my daycare, so I could go back to school and changed my career path to one where I could actually book time off.

Then life took an unexpected turn. The career change was not ideal and I ended up reopening my daycare. With daycaring, came great responsibility. I was bookkeeping Saturdays. Spur of the moment was impossible. My life was not my own. Again. My wings were clipped and I was back to being a responsible stay-at-home adult. I finally completed Dad's families' book of memories during this time. But it all took a toll. I do not look back on those years with great fondness. I was exhausted. I endured.

Then I closed my daycare. Again. My wings regained their strength and I had room to be flexible, do and go places without dependants. But things were changing with Mom. This became the stage in my life I call: "So you THINK you can make plans, huh?!"

My second stint at being independent and carefree became a time I invested wisely. No regrets. I had employers who were incredibly supportive and gave me all the flexibility I needed to be where I wanted to be and go where I needed to go. It was a completely different version of the same phase of my life when I took my extravagant holidays.

Life has evolved once more. I am heavily invested in the work I do. Picking up and going places on the spur of the moment is not my reality. I recently took a broken up holiday to accommodate one of my jobs and upon my return, I felt like I never should have left. I have returned to the phase of life where I have great responsibilities. Not to my children but to my employers. My wings are sitting quietly at my side and I will endure.

Back to the beginning now ...

Twenty two years ago, I was looking at my life in fast forward mode. I was wishing my life and the life of my unborn child away so I could spread my wings and live an independent life. To wish for a life of independence at this stage of my life is to wish for the unthinkable. My ability to dream ... feels elusive to me.

It was only upon reflecting on this cyclical life I lead, I recognized the pattern, the yearning, the need for time to pass and the eventual reality that my independence will come. We don't know what price we must pay for our independence. There may be times we get what we wish for but long for the days we wished away.

I am trying to appreciate the moment I am in without wishing it away. I have one eye on an eventual, partial retirement while the other eye is firmly gripped in reality. Be careful what you wish for.

Sitting with all of my siblings a short while ago, we again had a moment of reflecting where we all would be twenty years from how. There was a thoughtful, reflective pause before I uttered to my oldest sister "You will be turning ninety!". We laughed. Heartily at first. Quietly in the afterglow.

My uncle just celebrated his 90th birthday. It was a time of gathering his siblings together to mark the occasion and breathe in the moments. The family had a few gatherings while he was visiting this summer and his friends and nearby family had a gathering on his actual birthday when he was settled back in at home. His brothers attended each and every one of these occasions.

As I look toward the future that is what I hope for as well. For us to gather and celebrate the moments when they are good and to walk along each other's side when the going gets tough. I don't want to wish this time away. I want to appreciate it ...

Just Be You

This was the quote that spoke to me this morning:

"Just be you ... and if people don't like it, find new people"

Perhaps it was the picture that accompanied the quote - a picture of a little girl with black rimmed glasses that magnified her eyes and at first glance, her hair looked untamed and a little wild (at second glance, her hair looks just fine). 

The picture reminded me of a young version of me, feeling absolutely beautiful, with leotards on my head (in my make believe world, the leotards were my long and flowing hair), wearing Mom's high heel shoes. I remember the disappointment I felt when that picture was developed. I thought I was beautiful. I couldn't believe the ugly little girl the camera captured. It was akin to listening to my actual singing voice on a tape recorder many years later.

I thought of the picture. It was taken in the days when it cost money for every picture on the roll of film. One didn't take excessive pictures in those days. What was Mom thinking when she allowed precious, hard earned cash to develop this picture?

What was she thinking??

Was she amused? Did I ask her to take the picture? Did she realize I would regret having this picture taken? Did she think I was beautiful too? What was going on in her mother-brain when she captured this image? Did she know"this" would be the picture I keep coming back to in my adult years? The years where I continue to battle the feeling that the inner me doesn't match the outer me?

My memory of myself in this picture is actually much, much worse than the reality. Now that I've grown up and have a little better sense of who I am, this photo doesn't bother me. I'm glad I have it. It marks a significant memory of who I was and who I dreamed I could be.

In the same stack of photos, I found this one right along beside the uglier version of myself:

It was the Christmas I wanted a nurse hat more than anything else (it is hard to see it here, but I am quite certain that is what is on my head). I think Mom made me a nurse outfit too - I recall conversations where it is said the only thing I wanted for Christmas that year was a nurse hat and a Penny Brite doll.

The memories of conversations between Mom and my sister about this particular Christmas sift through my mind as I write. The memories aren't mine but as I Googled Penny Brite's image, I found a picture of Penny Brite sitting at a school desk with a blackboard. I'm pretty sure my Penny Brite came with these accessories. If so, I do have an original memory to go with the stories I've heard.

I have been falling in and out of liking myself, my life and questioning "What's next?" a lot these days. Part of me feels a little bit lost. Not really lost. Just wandering. 

I've lost my dreams. I've lost my childlike innocence I felt when these pictures were taken. I dreamed of becoming a nurse. I had forgotten.

"Just Be You ..." 

These are the words that spoke to me this morning. These words have taken me down memory lane and have rekindled a childlike memory of what it felt like to "just be me".

Even though I was a shy, reserved little child I remember feeling something inside of myself that was begging to be seen. I'm grateful for the pictures Mom took to help me remember the confidence I felt inside, despite the side of myself the world saw.

A Silver Lining

As soon as we got this most recent snowfall, one of the first things I thought was 

"I'll be able to find rabbit tracks again!"

And I did!

I haven't had many rabbit sightings lately and I've missed their presence. Either I'm not patient enough or we are on different schedules. But I keep missing them. 

I was pretty sure they were still around and now I have proof!

I nestled a small dish of rabbit food in the roots of the tree in our front yard. There was evidence a rabbit had been there and it is the most sheltered spot our yard has to offer.

If I feed them, will they come?

To be continued (I hope!) ...

Back in the Driver's Seat

I finally took all my thoughts that had been cycling and recycling around and around in my head and on the pages I've been writing and acted.

I acted. I didn't react. I acted.

I have been whining about my car and how I didn't feel it was winter worthy. Should I spend thousands of dollars on new struts, shocks, tires and a windshield? Or should I buy a new-to-me used car?

My thoughts bounced back and forth and all around. Around and around they went. The more the same thoughts cycled around in my head, the dizzier I got. The dizzier I got, the less capable I felt to make a decision. Any decision.

Then I thought "What do I have to lose to ASK if the stone chip in my windshield can be fixed [after waiting all summer to decide what to do]?"

I asked. They answered. The answer was "Yes, we can still fix this".

Next came the tires. I did not want to spend a lot of money on a car that I have already spent more on repairs and maintenance, than I did on the car itself. Then I (finally!) remembered. "Hey! I have snow tires in the garage!"

I've never had snow tires before this car. I got this car at the end of December. It had snow tires. I still slid through intersections, even when driving at a snail's pace. I still spun my wheels trying to take off from a corner, even when I accelerated slowly. I didn't see one advantage to having snow tires when my previous car drove (what felt to me) exactly as this car did, with snow tires. So I never used those tires again.

Fast forward to this year. My existing tires will need to be replaced soon. I don't want to invest in new tires for my old car. I have a full set of winter tires sitting in the garage. I asked my friendly, neighborhood mechanic to switch the tires knowing they would assess the winter tires before changing them. They told me the winter tires are like new. My old tires have 30% of their tread left.

I am now driving my new-to-me old car and feeling as good as I can about the upcoming winter season.

I didn't break the bank to put myself in this position. I used what I already had and fixed what was already there.

I had a few errands to run before I went to work yesterday. I saw two accidents on the opposite side of the freeway I was driving on. Knowing the traffic was just starting to back up on the side of the road I would need to travel after I ran my last errand, I looked up and the traffic was at a standstill. I took the back roads to my final destination. As I drove, I heard the traffic report "There are two accidents ... [on the stretch of road I had just avoided]".

I still slid through one intersection and a stop sign in a parking lot, as I was travelling at just over 0 km per hour. It's slippery out there!

Even with my winter tires, I know I could easily be in an accident this time of year. I'm driving as safe as I can, leaving lots of room between me and the cars ahead of me. But no one plans to have an accident. I am very relieved I will be driving the car I'm in right now. A car that is not worth a small fortune and a car I have not just spent a small fortune on.

I have spent my money wisely. I feel as safe as I can feel now that winter, wind, snow and ice have descended upon us. Yes, I wish I was working from home right about now. But since I'm not, I have done the best I can do with what I have.

I have accepted the things I cannot change. I have changed the things I can. I feel back in the driver's seat again.

The Best Things in Life are Free

I finally made it to the library a few days ago. It was better than I hoped it would be.

I went to the branch I was closest to. It is new but it doesn't have a very big selection of books. But it was bustling with people.

It was good to see the library was being put to good use. There is a meeting room, a children's area, a reading area, an innovation lab and a gaming room. Each of these areas were busy with people and activity.

On the technological side, they do have WiFi, public computers and (in branch) Chromebooks. All the computers were busy so the technology may have led the race between hold-in-your-hands books verses anything of the electronic variety.

I was pleased to see how busy the library was on a cool, Saturday afternoon. I commented to the person checking out my books and she said they have their quiet times but this was not one of them.

Because this branch was so small, I was unable to find any of the books I was looking for but I came out with three books of interest regardless. I am eager to check out our larger, friendly neighborhood library one day soon.

I am now curious to see how I fare the next time I go. Because I will definitely return. Next time I hope to make the time to enjoy some leisurely time perusing the aisles of a library with a wider selection of books.

They do say the best things in life are free. I highly recommend visiting your neighborhood library one day. You have nothing to lose!