A Little of This and a Little of That

I’m  hoping to try out a few features of my new camera this weekend.  I don’t know if I’ll get the boys to be my models or not (they get a little tired of mom taking their picture all the time) so may have to use nature or the cats as my subject.

Is it really true that you shouldn’t drink water from a plastic bottle if it’s been left in the car? Sheryl Crow said this is how she believes her breast cancer was caused.  There is a toxin called dioxin that is released from the bottle into the water and has been know to be found in breast cancer tissue.  Does anyone know more about this?

I’m hoping to find the movie, Hearafter, staring Matt Damon, at RedBox this weekend.  They have a “reserve” feature on-line to hold a movie at a particular RedBox.  Did you know that?   If you try it before me, let me know if it worked or not. 

The big fish died.  Flake overdose.  (Actually I think it was excessive feeding that did it.)  Off to find a new one to replace it.  No funeral was held.  I simply scooped him out and said, “So long, Oreo.” 

The cheap wax melts from Wal-Mart really work well and make the entire house smell like I’ve been baking cinnamon muffins all day.  Can you smell it?

The high today is supposed to be in the 60s. You know what that means don’t you?  It means there is probably a snowstorm on the way.  I can only hope!

I really need to paint the blue wall in bedroom our master bedroom.  Navy blue really does not go with chocolate brown, cinnamon and wheat!  Trust me. It doesn’t.

I’ve been spending a great deal of time in my loft this week and love the sunshine it gets and the fact I can see the mountains from my window.   Simply beautiful. 


Having a good hair day today.  I know.  Not something to write about, but it’s true!  

Happy Friday everyone.

Maybe. One Day.

I think everyone has moments in their life that change them; graduation, marriage, children, and even death.  These moments change us in large and small ways, but they do change us.

I joined a book club five years ago and it was one of those moments for me.  It changed me and in a very profound way.  I know this may sound crazy, but I had never read a book for pleasure until five years ago.   Yes, I read the required reading in school and the occasional magazine article, but never even considered it as something to do for the pure joy of it.  I don’t really know why either.  It just happened that way for me. 

The first book we read was Jodi Picoult’s, Songs of the Humpback Whale.  It was good. We talked about it.  We shared our ideas and opinions about the style of writing, the storyline and the ending of course.  It was exhilarating for me.  I found it so interesting that six women could read the same book and have very different ideas about it.  That alone fascinated me.  I was hooked. I was officially a book reader and book club card carrying member.

Over the five years, we have shared so many wonderful and a few not so wonderful books together.  We’ve sipped tea out of each other’s coffee mugs, eaten brownies we’ve made for each other out on the deck.  We’ve watched each other’s children grow, be born and be adopted.   We’ve shared our funny vacation mishaps and laughed until the late hours of the evening every month for the last sixty months.  It’s been beautiful. 

Last night was my last book club meeting (at least for a while) with my favorite people.  I’ve decided that it’s time for me to get my feet wet in a new area or two and perhaps try a writing club, a writing class or a photography class of some sort.  I need to spread my wings and fly over new places for a bit.   It was not an easy decision either.  I enjoy it so much and will miss it even more, but in order to make time for something new, I have to give up time somewhere in our busy calendar and this was really the only solution. 

I know that I will join back up again one day (if they’ll have me), but for now, I need a change of view and the space and time to give that new view a chance to grow on me. 

Being part of this book club has forever changed me and don’t know if these ladies know how much they have touched my life.  I have tears in my eyes as I type this.  They have given me a gift of beautiful friendship showing me their hearts of gold, support, and invited me into a circle I feel so privileged to have been a part of. They’ve shown me the joy that comes from reading and that has inspired me to share what I have inside my heart through writing and who knows, maybe, one day, we’ll read my book at the April book club meeting. Maybe. One day.

Something To Share

I’ve started this post four times.  It’s supposed to be a big post, a celebration post, but I’ve decided to just write (type) what comes from the tips of my fingers straight from my heart.  I don’t know where this will go, but I do have something to share amongst all these organized letters. 

Friday was my one-year blog anniversary.

(I know, I know.  I should have posted this on Friday, but I’m a real person with a real life and I got busy. Truth.)

It’s kinda cool.  Ok, so it’s mostly cool to me because I actually did it. I followed through. I kept up and wrote consistently about whatever came to my mind.  I was brave, silly, honest, nonsensical (I’ve always wanted to use that word), bored, joyful, thankful and tried to be graceful along the way with the words that some days took over my entire being.  I am proud of myself. 

I set out to take a risk and live (a little) outside my very neat, white, square box and put my words into written form for all the world to see.  And, I did it.   The words are out there and the world has seen them.  I don’t know what it means just yet, but that’s ok.  Is this a prelude to a book, a published journal for my safekeeping, a job as a column writer, a magazine creator, a public lesson in grammar and spelling, a newsletter editor?  Only time will tell.

I think it’s fine to dream and want to get better at something and keep…doing…..writing. I don’t know what will become of my writing or where it will or won’t take me, and I’m ok with that too.  I love the process, the journey itself.  I just have to move forward with it a little every day.   Try new things, participate in a few contests, or a blog hop, or a comment fest (blogging terms I’m adding to my vocabulary) or maybe a letter to the editor.

I’m not setting any grand goals or putting any pressure on it, because I’m afraid that will take some of the joy away from my fingertips.  What ever will be will be.

I hope that you will continue to follow my journey and stop by and leave a comment or two (or three or four) so I know how I’m doing.  I love when I have a comment.  It’s like getting a tiny wrapped present under my pillow in the morning. 

So today, I will celebrate in my own little way and carry around with me a sense of accomplishment, a sense of pride and will have a little skip in my step just for the heck of it.  I’ll leave you with a few little tidbits about my year of blogging.  Thanks for reading and come on by any time you have a few extra minutes.  I love company!

I’ve had 2,924 visits to my blog.

(You’ll have to subtract about 200 of those as my own, however.)

Pawl and Ratchet is my most read blog. (41 reads)

I’ve had visitors from 10 different countries including Slovenia, Russia, and South Korea!

I’ve had 166 posts (that’s almost every other day)

I have 30 followers on my site and 64 followers from Blog Frog.

My favorite post is always the one I just finished.

Happy Anniversary to me.  Now bring on the cupcake.

PhotoCredit

Ten Things I Love About Mondays

The laundry baskets are usually empty (at least in the morning).

I always feel as if I have a clean slate to start the week.

The grocery store is never crowded.

School holidays always fall on this day.

Hot tea just tastes better.

My motivation is always high.

The direction for the day is always clear.

Red Box always has movies in stock.

Five days closer to Friday.

It’s got its own song.

Happy Monday

Fly To The Tree

If we fly to the tree are we searching for something?

If we fly to the tree are we seeking a new point of view?

If we fly to the tree do we want to be alone?

If we fly to the tree are we taking a risk?

If we fly to the tree are we searching for guidance?

If we fly to the tree do we ignore what our feet tread upon daily?

If we fly to the tree are we escaping the truth?

If we fly to the tree do we dare ourselves to be brave?

If we fly to the tree do we need to hear the wind?

If we fly to the tree do we hold on tight?

If we fly to the tree do we become who we’re meant to be?

Why do you fly to the tree?

And I Thought I Was The Teacher

I have two amazing children.  They never cease to amaze me with their beautiful minds and spirits.  As their mother, I want nothing but the best for them and try to teach them all the things that are important in life.  Knowing how to cook a few meals, how to change the sheets on their bed, how to wash their baseball and cub scout uniform, how to fill the car with gas, how to make friends, how to study for a test, how to drive (not quite ready for this one, but it’s coming) to name a few, but the list goes on and on.  

The one thing I didn’t count on when I became a mother, was how much I would learn from them. I think as a mother, we have this notion that we have so much to offer our children; our mistakes and what we learned from them, our love, our life experiences.  We bring that baby home from the hospital nervous, yet we’re filled with all the things we plan to teach them and share with them.  Mother School doesn’t mention all the benefits they will provide you and all the life lessons they will end up teaching you. My boys have taught me a thing or two.

They’ve taught me….

…that sometimes plans change and you have to go with the flow.

…that they worry about us like we worry about them.

…that just because I like peanut butter and jelly doesn’t mean they will (neither does).

…that sometimes it’s easier to talk to your friends about certain things than your parents.

…that being in your pajamas all day doesn’t make you lazy.

…to not assume to know what they’re thinking, because it’s usually wrong.

…that having your picture taken all the time isn’t always a good thing.

…it’s ok to sit in your room by yourself and just be.

…that I’m not always right.

…to understand that their point of view is just as valid as mine.

…that it’s ok to apologize even though I’m the mom.

…that they really do hear me when I speak to them.

…to be patient.

…to appreciate their differences.

…that sometimes hand-me-downs aren’t as cool as they once might have been.

They are the rubies in my crown.  They are the sprinkles on my cupcake.  

They make me laugh and they make me proud to say I’m their mom (mommy to one still).  I love all they’ve taught me and am certain this is only the beginning of many lessons to come.  And I thought I was the teacher.

Trusting Today - Faithful Today

When you have one of those moments, it’s yours to keep forever.  I wish I could bottle it up and keep it in a special place and open it up any time I needed it.

I had one of those moments this morning.

We, as I know so many of you do as well, have very busy calendars and most months, it looks like graffiti on the fridge with all the reminders for cub scouts, basketball practice, play practice, meetings, hockey travel, birthday parties, teaching days, homework projects, book club, dinner with friends.  Need I go on?   Let’s just say, to a new parent, it would be frightening to see.  

This year, I made a decision. I have given up any and all worries about our calendar.  I have told myself, that if it’s meant to be, then we’ll find a way to make it work.  The schedules will allow or not allow for it.   So far, (and I realize I have probably just jinxed any future cohesiveness) we have not had any scheduling problems.   Many would say this is luck, but I don’t really believe in luck.  I never have.  I believe this to be trust and faith in the bigger plan. 

So back to the "moment" today, I called for my oldest son’s basketball game schedule AND, it fits into the schedule.  Yes, it does.   That means he doesn’t have to miss any of his musical practices.  He’ll be able to attend the practice and then play the game.   Amazing.  Simply amazing.

Maybe it seems small in the scheme of the world, but for me, it’s huge.   You have no idea the stress I’ve put on myself over the last few years worrying about this very thing.   This year, I have given up the worry and have trusted that it will work out and look what happens when you trust and have faith.   No stress.  Busy people.  Happy people, but minus all the stress and worry.

The amazing peace that filled my entire being when I hung up the phone will be with me for the rest of my day.   Letting go of control can be very frightening, but exhilarating at the same time.  Today, it’s all about the exhilaration for me.   Trusting today.  Faithful today.

No Expiration Date

When we moved into our new home, one of the many things I was excited about was the fact that we would have room for an extra fridge in the garage.  I was thankful for the extra space and knew it would come in handy during the holidays with extra meals and in the summer for the popsicles and the extra milk that didn’t fit in the kitchen fridge.  Extra space is always a plus.

The other day, I thought I’d check to see if there was anything in the garage fridge that needed to go.   Low and behold, there was a gallon of milk with an expiration date of December 8th.  Ick.   I didn’t dare open it, but had to so I could recycle the container and not have sour milk in the trash for a week.   It had expired in so many ways.   I won’t tell you that there were little curds exiting the mouth of the container.  That wouldn’t be polite.

When you think about it, most things have an expiration date; cheese, milk, your warranty on the fridge, your unused gift cards, last year’s boots that aren’t in style anymore.  Most things expire.

However.

I found one thing yesterday that by the grace of God, had not expired.   A dear friend of mine from high school contacted me after twenty-five years (yes I realize this dates me, but I’m fine with that) and suggested we meet to catch up.  I couldn’t wait to see her.  I was giddy all week looking forward to our dinner and on the drive to meet her, I felt like a 10 year-old girl going to her first sleep-over.

After all this time, we talked for four hours straight and shared our life stories of college, marriage, children, work, friends, faith, books and so much more.  Our lives were so similar in so many ways. The part that caught me off guard was how easy it was to talk to her even though you would have thought our friendship had passed its expiration date after decades of being out of touch.  It was like craving a cold drink and then finding the last diet soda behind the salad bowl and jar of olives in the fridge and when you pull out the can, it’s still refreshing and quenches your thirst.   Our friendship felt as if it hadn’t expired at all.  

On the drive home, all I could think about was how wonderful it was to talk with her and how strong our relationship could be by now had we not lost touch.  It saddened me that so much time had slipped through us and can’t really say why.   We just drifted a bit and have now sailed right across each other’s path once again and it was so wonderful for lack of a better word.

I hope that we can continue where we left off last night and start making up for lost time with phone calls, letters and e-mails.  I would so enjoy that.  It’s nice to know that even though the extra gallons of milk in the fridge may expire, friendship never really does.

  

Squirrely

We saw him lying there in the snow. Stiff.  Cold. Dead.  How did it happen?  Was he out past curfew last night?  Did he look both ways before crossing?  Perhaps he was from California and not used to the cold.  However it happened, it happened.  Death is part of life.  The poor squirrel lay there in a pile of snow as if he was tired and decided to rest for a bit and never woke up. 

The boys in the neighborhood were very interested in the poor little guy and doorbells were ringing to share the news and to usher everyone out to gawk at the furry ice cube. When you have a neighborhood of boys 11-14 years old, a dead squirrel is pretty cool.  They checked him out from a distance. They wondered how he died.  They all wanted to see if he was “whole” but no one dared to touch him. (Thank God!)

After several minutes of pondering what to do, the decision was made to move the poor soul to the backyard for burial.  The shovel was picked up from the garage and my oldest was elected gravedigger.  They prodded him with the shovel and pushed him onto the cold metal and carried him to the backyard.  My son began to dig and once deep enough, he was laid to rest. (OK, they kind of kicked him in and used the shovel to push him the rest of the way into the hole.  Not quite as solemn as you’d hope.)

On their own, they all said something nice about him.

“He used to eat the apples off our tree.”

“He was a great squirrel.”

“He had pretty brown fur.”

“Let’s name him, Squirrely."

The burial was over, but the funeral wasn’t complete without a headstone.  My youngest pounded on the patio door and asked for a marker to write his name on the tree bark and stick they found for the headstone.  It reads, “In memory of Squirrely.”

I can only hope that Squirrely's parents or children can rest easy this evening as they stroll past the makeshift cemetery which now resides in our backyard.  He was loved (at least for 15 minutes) and in the end, his memory will go on forever with our children.  Rest in peace, Squirrely.

Speak Softly

I have a little piece of paper in my pocket right now that says, “Speak Softly.”  I wrote it yesterday as something to try and do differently.  (You can read about it here.)  I plan to keep this in my pocket for some time.  It doesn’t mean to speak in a quiet voice, but to rather speak words that are soft, loving, kind and encouraging.  I have moments, like I’m sure you do as well, that I don’t speak softly and that’s why those words are in my pocket.

I wonder why a 17 year-old boy goes into a school and shoots a gun at the administrators and then kills himself.   I wonder why a 22 year-old man shoots people in the grocery store and then smiles for his mug shot. 

I wonder if someone didn’t speak softly to them.  Were the words people used around them too hard for their hearts to hear?  

Did words cause them pain in some way? Were they wounded by words themselves?  

It really hurts to hear these stories and in no way do I blame the parents or those close to these young men for the gunman’s actions.  They chose to do what they did.  They are responsible for their actions.

Yet. Still. Wonder.

If soft words had always been spoken to them, would they have made the choices they did?  Would their worlds have been different?  It’s a question we’ll never know the answer to, but it has touched me deeply to see these sad young men hurting so much that they have to hurt others as a way to release their own pain. 

I want my words to my children and to my husband to be spoken softly.  Will it make them stronger people?  Will it make them feel loved?  Will it make them know my love for them is the greatest emotion I have?  I hope so.  I hope so. 

Words are powerful things and can be used to change the world, one word at a time.  My words should be spoken softly and maybe they will rock my children’s and husband’s world, one word at a time.  Today and tomorrow and the many days after that, I will be conscience about that little piece of paper in my pocket.  It will remind me to speak softly.  To speak softly.

Tuesday Day Brightners

Find the fanciest glass you have.  I’ll wait.  Go get it.  Go on.   Fill it will ice and the coldest water you have.  Squeeze some lemon or lime into it.  Now sit down and enjoy it by a window with a view.    This only takes three minutes, maybe five if you’re pokey, but it’s five minutes for you.  Peace and quiet and cold water.  Repeat as necessary throughout your day.

Find a blank sheet of paper.  Get a pen, not a pencil.  (Pencil can be erased and we’re not going back.  We’re moving forward.)  Now, write down one thing you’d like to do differently.  It can be anything.  It doesn’t have to be profound.  (Mine says….”Speak Softly.”)  Tear around the words so it’s small, fold it up and put it in your pocket.  For the rest of the day or however long it takes to do it differently, keep it in your pocket.   When it becomes a habit, throw it away.  Repeat as necessary.

Sit down in a warm spot.  Grab a blanket and wrap it around you if you need to.  Close your eyes and listen to your heartbeat.  Breath in an out your nose slowly.  Keep your eyes closed for several minutes while you do this.  Don’t go to sleep but stay focused on your heartbeat and just be.  Be.  Repeat as necessary.

Enjoy your Tuesday.

A Layer of Proof

Some people are born to write while others are born to sing.  There are those that know how to take the most beautiful pictures and those that have an eye for fashion.   Some people love to cook and can make a meal from nothing and it tastes divine, while others can paint a portrait of their cat and you’d swear the cat would meow if you touched it.

How did the artist become an artist?  How did they know what to do when the paintbrush was in their hand? How did the singer know they could sing and create music so beautiful that everyone stopped to listen?  How did the seamstress know how to make the blouse tapered just so creating a garment so beautiful everyone wanted to have one? 

Are these gifts God has placed in their souls and just at the right moment, the door is unlocked and the gift emerges upon the stage for all to see?  How does this happen? 

I want to know.

How does a writer create a story so unique that the reader cannot put the book down for fear the story will continue on while the book is set down?  Where do the ideas come from?  How does a photographer take a picture of a tree and have it evoke such emotion in the viewer?  What do they see when they look at the tree?  Is it the same tree I see?

How can a child pick up a violin and play notes they’ve never seen or heard, yet the bow flies across the strings and their fingers move like bottled up energy?  How can someone know six languages and speak them fluently with no hesitation and understand the words so foreign to most of us?

I want to know.

Perhaps this is another layer of proof that God is out there somewhere and in each of us at the same time.  There are gifts in each of us just waiting to emerge into the world, some more visible than others, some quieter than others, but there nonetheless. 

Combat Boots and a Scotch on the Rocks

I heard her before I saw her.  She was louder than she should have been in her conversation with the woman leaning against the wall.  I didn’t like what I heard either.  I crossed my fingers she wasn’t in line next to me and was thankful she wasn’t.  I could still hear her however.  @3$*C%X#.  Not words I use or care to listen to.

We boarded the plane and were thankful she was in the next group to board, but I was thankful too soon.  She sat down in the empty seat right behind us.  The woman next to me sighed as well.  My husband and I looked at each other and contemplated moving ourselves, but had just put our things away and were now settled for the three-hour flight.  We decided to stay put.  This is a decision we would soon regret.

Together our row was secretly praying she would fall asleep and the rest of the flight would be just fine, but no such luck.  She talked or rather @3$*C%X# the entire flight. @3$*C%X# this, @3$*C%X# that, @3$*C%X# this and that.   It was unbelievable. Not only was there swearing but completely inappropriate discussions about things you just don’t discuss on an airplane with strangers! Everyone around us began to mumble to themselves under their breath about her, yet none of us said one word to her. 

I should have politely asked her to refrain from her language choices until we reached our destination for the benefit of the 15 year old girl sitting in between her and the window passenger (who I might add, continued to egg her on incessantly the entire flight and joined in the swearing fest occasionally so as not to be outdone by her counterpart). There was also a row of two children two rows in front of her under the age of 10 who I know could hear her as well.   But I didn’t.  We didn’t.  None of us did.  Why? 

No one wants to create a fuss or ruckus.  We all just want to be in our own little worlds and be left alone to read, nap or eat our sandwich.  I know for a fact she was bothering my seatmate as well as the family directly across from her, yet none of us said one word to her, nor did the flight attendants.  No, they actually gave her a free drink of scotch on the rocks for her service as a Marine.  Go figure.  Not only had she been sharing her drinking escapades from New Year’s but admitted she was still a little hung over.  I know.  Let’s give her a drink to honor her and ruin at least eight other people’s flights. 

When we landed, we couldn’t have been happier to find out that she was going on to a destination different from our own.  What a relief!  My seatmate however was gathering her things and looking for a new seat, as she was to continue on with our lovely passenger.

Upon de-boarding we quickly made a plan to be a little more observant on our seat selection for our return trip.  No screaming, crying children who required a pacifier and no twenty-four year old potty mouthed scotch drinking women wearing combat boots would be on our list of candidates for seatmates.  We’d be on the look out for computer engrossed, book reading adults who only nodded at us rather than spoke to us.  My kind of passengers! 

Get Your Kitty Calendar Out

The new year is now upon us.   It’s official.  It’s time to get out those kitty calendars or your joke a day calendar and begin filling in all those empty days.  I’ve been working on our family calendar this weekend and think by the end of the day, I’ll have ours filled clear through to April and even possibly a few items on the May calendar as well. 

The new year seems to give us permission to start fresh, throw out the old and in with the new.   I have been thinking about what I’d like to do differently for this coming year and find myself filled with grand ideas and new promises I probably won’t keep for myself.   The one that comes to mind most frequently though is a simple one really.

Enjoy this life I’ve been given and stop worrying about all the things I cannot change.

I tend to control or think I should control all that is able to be controlled and frankly, it stresses me out most days.  I waste more time worrying about all the things that are not that important and end up spoiling many days doing so.   I want to control that impulse - funny huh?  I want to “control” the impulse to “control” everything. 

I know this is no easy task as this is a personality trait that I am not fond of and am very aware of and in tune to.   It’s on my mind all the time, so letting go of it is definitely going to be a challenge, but I need to do this or I’m going to wear myself out.  I need a few empty spaces on my calendar this year.

The world isn’t going to cave in around me if I don’t have the house spotless when someone comes over or don’t have the laundry done.  It would probably do me some good to pull out a pair of jeans from the dirty clothes and wear them again.  Just to prove to myself that the world will go on. 

I’ve noticed lately as well that I’ve been making my way to a new section of the library and my favorite hang out spot, Barnes and Noble.  I have a pretty extensive reading list this year and it includes more than just fiction and stories of walks by the ocean.  I want to read The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown, Taking Flight by Kelly Rae Roberts, The Miracle Detective by Randall Sullivan just to name a few. 

In this new year, our calendars will be filled with this and that, but I hope to leave a little white space in there as well for reading, spirit filling activities, and time to be creative. I hope that this new year will allow you to dream big, be who you are meant to be and allow you to see all the doors and windows of possibility that exist for you (and me).  Happy New Year.