In A Phrase

I considered a number of words for my "word" for this year. None felt right. The words that came to mind made me feel like I had to work at something, to change or get better or resign myself and give in. After all the thoughts I went through to let go of the past, I wanted to give myself a chance to feel where I am now. I want the feelings to keep flowing, no matter what they are.

So I settled on a phrase for this year: keep moving. Get on the treadmill, play with the grandchildren, get out of bed, make the phone calls, keep going. I remind myself that I don't have to produce something new or accomplish something big. If I move my body and keep my brain working and let my emotions move through me, then I am doing what is best for me right now. 

I didn't know three months ago how much I would need those words. In May I really missed my mom; I was sad and angry that I was still feeling such grief. I reminded myself to keep moving - let the feelings come and move through me as many times as they needed to. 

I often feel stalled and indecisive. Keep moving. Put in a load of laundry, rearrange furniture, make a simple meal, go for a drive.

I talked last month with my osteopath about the anxiety I was feeling. As she worked with my body we talked about how I was getting stuck in my head and that I can move into my body instead, deep belly breathing and grounding through my core. There are exercises I can do to stretch and balance and improve my flexibility.

Keep moving. Do what I want to do and not what I think I have to do. Find enjoyment in the simple things. 

I can't make big decisions right now, about what's next or where I want to be beyond the next few days. There are dates on the calendar to spend time with grandkids, which are times to look forward to. 

I hear from others at this same point in their lives that they are asking similar questions and feeling the same uncertainty. We can listen to each other and know that we are not alone, which helps me immensely. I commented on Jacqueline's blog that the silence and solitude has not helped me. Her most recent blog post beautifully reflects on the questions she has been asking herself.

Today I saw a quote on Instagram that spoke to me: Not every day has to "count." Some days your purpose is to make it to the next one. That counts too.

The journey continues....

Scrapbooks, Photo Albums, and Memories

* In 2008 and 2009 I wrote posts for a collaborative blog called "50-something moms blog." The blog as it was cannot be found online, but I found a link to one of my posts in an early post here and the link still works. I never set up a category on my sidebar, I don't know why, so they are not readily found on this site. I did save copies of what I wrote in a  folder on my desktop - though why I thought of that I don't remember. Anyway, I am going to post them here when there is a topic that fits what I am writing about. This is my first attempt at making this work. I will make note when I get to the post I wrote all those years ago*

Yesterday I sat down on the floor and went through the envelopes, albums, and boxes of photos I brought back from my mom's house. I have been through them a dozen times in the past year, pulling out photos to share with siblings and getting those sent off. I have pulled out photos with no names and/or dates if I cannot identify the subjects, and there were dozens and dozens of those. There is no sense in perpetuating the handing down of photos that have meaning for no one. If I want to save photos to pass down, they have to be organized and readily accessible. What the kids do with them after I am gone is up to them, but I want to give them the option to keep or throw.

I wound up with the bulk of the photos because my siblings do not want them. Years ago my mom shipped me all my dad's slides, thousands of slides with some in slide holders that fit in a slide projector that would no longer move through the slides, which she had also shipped to me. Three years ago Ken and I spent long summer nights going through box after box of slides; I would pass him a slide and he would fit it into the projector so we could see it on a wall in the living room. Hours and hours over the course of several days we went through every box of slides, setting aside ones of my family. There were also hundreds of slides taken on my dad's work trips and of people I did not know. Then we pieced together a chronological order based on the dates on some slides and comparing to photos I have in albums from those years long ago. Then I sent the slides off to a company that scanned them, in the order I sent them which was a huge bonus, on a CD and made multiple copies that I shared with family members. My mom loved having all of those photos in one place and rotated the photos as the background on her computer. That alone made it worth the time and effort it took to accomplish the task.

I come from a long line of photographers on my dad's side so there are lots of photos of family get togethers at my great-grandmother's home in Toledo, Ohio in the summers of the 1960's. I started taking photos with my own camera when I was still in elementary school. I labeled and dated photos and put them in an album, grateful now that I started that habit young.

On my mom's side of the family there are formal portraits in sepia tones of her ancestors, taken either in a studio or when a photographer came to the house. Her generation and the generation before her were generous with their picture-taking, so there are many photos of her, her family, and her friends through the years. Most of those are dated so I can piece together a timeline even for the ones that are not specifically labeled.

When my brother started making trips to my mom's trailer last summer to try to make sense of what was there and all that needed to be handled, he commented to me that, "There are so many photos!" I told him that I had been sending Mom photos for over 40 years. When my kids were young and I had a 35 mm camera, I would send off a roll of film and get double prints so I had photos to share with my mom and Ken's family. The sharing of photos continued through my life with grandkids and right up until my mom's death. My family is well documented.

Maybe some of what I just wrote will be repeated in my post from January 2009, but I don't want to edit what I wrote then because I'd like to save it as I wrote it.

*Posted on the 50-something moms blog January 6, 2009:

I have a scrapbook that my mother started for me when I was a young child.  It holds birthday cards, photos of my friends from kindergarten, letters from relatives and friends, and my first library card.  This scrapbook has survived a life on various closet shelves and numerous moves, one of the few things that remain from a childhood that started in the mid 1950s.  It means a lot to me.

 
I have a photo album that I started when I got my first camera, over 40 years ago.  The square, black and white photos that fill the first pages hold memories of early friends and Christmas celebrations.  I  have photos from when I graduated to color film and a photographic record of when I had my hair done for my first prom.  These photos provide a priceless component in the historical record of my life.  It was fitting that I would want my children to have a comparable record of their childhoods.

   
The tradition started with baby books for each one of my children.  The overflow of cards and photos needed a home, which led to the start of a scrapbook for each child.  As they got older, my children selected the photos they liked and decided what mementos they wanted to save.  Their scrapbooks are filled with birthday and vacation photos, cards, awards, postcards, and graduation programs.  A scrapbook is the perfect reminder when a child is tempted to say, "I never went anywhere."  Oh, we went places and there is physical evidence to prove it.

Our family photo albums serve as an archive of people, places, and events that we have known and enjoyed.  The photos remind us of where we've been and who we've known. They serve as a resource  when we try to remember when we traveled to Memphis or who attended Grandma's wedding.  My children love to show off the family photo albums when a friend visits and expresses interest.  Some photos are good for a laugh.  Others elicit oohs and aahs as the pages are turned.

I sometimes wonder if my grown children appreciate the memories that have accumulated over the years.  Then one of them will ask, "Mom, is there room for these ticket stubs in my scrapbook?"  I smile and respond in the affirmative.  For all their digital photos and computer files, my children still appreciate a scrapbook they can hold open on their lap to remind them of the special events in their life.  For all that my children no longer need me to do, I can still track the passage of time and keep the family archives for the sake of history and the generation to come.

Two Two Twenty-Two

I like numbers, the way they line up and go together. So I couldn't let 2-2-22 go by without making mention of it. Here we are in February 2022, nearly two years since life changed. Today is Day 695. 

With all the time at home I started knitting again. In February 2021 I finished my first blanket~

It's made with garter stitch, two strands of DK weight wool on a size 7 circular needle. My daughter had more than two dozen colors left over from a project and passed them on to me. Just for fun in November 2019 I played around with how they might go together if I ever got inspired~

I was glad I had taken a photo to reference when I was ready for a project. More than a year later I started Kaffe Fassett's Garter Stripe Shawl and was glad to to have a pick-up put-down project to work on that also kept my lap warm. I like the end result and thought I'd keep my eyes open for another  pattern.

******************

In December 2021 I read a post on the Modern Daily Knitting blog about knitting a "temperature blanket." The writer shared her color chart with coordinating temperatures and explained that it is up to the creator to decide the temperature increments and what colors to use. If you are on Instagram check out #temperatureblanket to see a variety of crocheted and knitted blankets. Anything goes really, and it's fun to see the different ways people have interpreted the concept.

I liked this idea for the next project to practice my knitting. I went to my wicker basket of yarn and picked out all the various skeins of worsted weight yarn to see what I could pull together. I started with 19 colors and assigned temperatures between zero and a hundred. I was about ten days in when I added dark blue for temps below zero. I decided to add two ridges of green at the start of each month [two rows of garter stitch make one ridge]. I'm using a size 5 circular needle.

Here's what January looks like~

Gray is for single digits. Three shades of purple for teens and low 20's. Little bit of light blue for upper 20's. I'm hoping for more blue this month.

Knit on~

How Do You Say Good-bye?

I sit here devastated at the news of the passing of a friend I never met in person. I got word from a friend via Facebook messenger this evening that a mutual blogging friend has died while neither of us knew she was ill. Apparently she kept the news private. Her name was Karin Bugge aka Altadena Hiker. Her writing was witty and smart and funny. She wrote about her dog Albert and the stray cat she started feeding and accidentally adopted. She painted her house and hiked in the hills and cared about community causes.

A year and a half ago I felt compelled to make Karin a set of cloth napkins. I had inherited several prints in a series called "Silent Cinema." Karin loved movies as much as I do and we traded posts about recommended favorites. I was working on another project with some of the prints and decided I wanted Karin to have some napkins because of the cinema connection. I made them up, emailed her for her address, and sent them off. She was delightfully surprised and sent the nicest note to thank me. I will always be glad I followed through with that impulse....

Last year Karin and I messaged back and forth about traveling across the country. She had mentioned she would like to visit Maine, and I wanted to make sure I was here if she planned a trip. I was headed to San Jose, which is several hours away from Altadena, and I couldn't see a way to connect with her on that trip. Then I considered traveling to that area in February but that didn't materialize. I looked forward to having a reason to travel to that part of California and getting a chance to meet her in person. I regret that we didn't get to talk face to face.

I never got a chance to say hello and I'm not sure how to say good-bye.

I turned to one of my favorite poets and found a poem that feels right for this moment. Karin cared about the world and loved animals and marveled at so many things around her. She artfully shared what she thought was important. She will be missed.

Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond
by Mary Oliver

As for life,
I'm humbled,
I'm without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these 
and over and over,

and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched

though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen -
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.

Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.

It suffices, it is all comfort -
along with human love,

dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about

stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when 
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,

and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,
can you? 

March Happens

March is a long month.  This year it is particularly long, or seems so, because there are eight long weeks between February break and April vacation.  At this point students are halfway through four weeks of standardized testing.  The weather has been all over the map, literally, and brought two snow days last week, Monday for snow and Friday for ice.

I decided weeks ago to attend a conference on the 31st.  It was a good call.  I always go into a day like today with the thought that I will learn something new and the hope that I will meet someone interesting.  Both things happened today.  I learned the details of a unique initiative to bring state-of-the-art technology to four counties in our state.  I find it encouraging that such a project has been successful.  The interesting person was a woman I met on the walk into the conference from the parking lot.  We laughed about not knowing where we were going and crossed paths later as we enjoyed pastries after registration.  I was pleased when we caught up with each other at lunch and had a chance to talk about common interests.  I know where she works and might get a chance to catch up with her again.

March leaves things unfinished.  In 1978 Ken and I traveled to Maine in March to explore the possibility of living in the state, and two months later we moved here.  In March many years later we moved to where we live now, and that story is still being written.

Eight years ago in March I started this blog.  There were a number of us who started blogging about the same time and somehow found each other in cyber space.  We were in various states of transition ~ children growing up, careers changing ~ and it was wonderful to have a chance to share our stories.

Many of those women have stopped blogging, and I miss their voices.  I am grateful for the women who continue to share their stories and take time to comment here.  I feel like so much is still up in the air for me all these years later, while others have made progress toward their dreams and moved on.

Another March has passed.  Time will tell how the journey continues....   

Packing Away Christmas

I finished taking down the tree today.  I put it up December 15, which is early for our house.  I wanted the house ready when family arrived the weekend before Christmas, and that meant weeks of clearing and cleaning and making ready to get the tree up by mid-December.

Today I finished packing away ornaments and rolling up strings of lights.  There weren't many other decorations this year.  We needed space for gathering and eating and sleeping and enjoying the baby.

For the first time in many years there was a baby in the house this holiday season.  What a joy it was!  Every day my grandson was a delight from the time he woke up until the time he went to bed.  His birthday was three days before Christmas, which added to the magic of his time here.  He played with toys that belonged to the generation before him and was delighted with all of his own gifts.  His love of helium-filled mylar balloons prompted all of us to cheer and clap.

This light of my life sat in the high chair while I worked in the kitchen, and we "chatted" and compared notes the entire time.  I showed him how to smell cinnamon and vanilla.  He snacked on Chex cereal while I made cookies and bits of bread when I made French toast.

My grandson and his parents left Sunday for another week in Boston.  They will be back for a brief time this coming weekend.  I don't know when I will see him after that.  I hear second-hand that there are changes afoot in his travel plans in the coming months, so I need to ask about plans and schedules.

So Christmas is packed away for another year.  Who knows what next year will look like.  I know that I am grateful for the time I had with family this year.

And tonight is the eve of a new year....

I have been preoccupied this week with a post written by Carolynn at A Glowing Ember about her choice of a word for 2014.  I wracked my brain but could not remember the word I chose for this year or, to be more precise, the word that chose me.  This afternoon I went into my archives to look and then I remembered.  The word stayed with me for months; I wrote about it in my journal and worked with it until it was literally worn out.  The word was "release."

It sounds harsh, but the word did its job.  By mid-year I had let go of just about everything.  I have heard over the years that life is easier if you "let go" but I have not found that to be true.  Nothing has been easy this year, not my relationships or my marriage or my job or my everyday life.  Not one thing has been easy....

Except my love for my grandson. That is easy and natural and true.

And that I will hold onto forever.

Sometimes You Get What You Need

Two days after my birthday I read something that sent me reeling.  It was a post by Heather of Dooce fame where she shared this: " She [a friend] was very specific to point out that my anxiety likes to confuse feelings of joy with feelings of safety, and for me to really dig deep and make the distinction. That’s the really shitty thing about anxiety, it can take the kid inside you who used to marvel at rainbows and dance around in public and tell her that there is way too much to worry about to ever feel like that again."  Heather goes on to talk about how she allays her anxiety with exercise and diet and creating order.

Huh.  I went back and read my own words of the day before: "This year my goals are short-term and attainable, as in picking up and clearing off and updating more regularly.  I am walking longer and faster on the treadmill, which tells me that regularity matters there, too.  Drink more water and less coffee.  Eat more vegetables and less sugar."

Exercise and diet and creating order.  Those were my goals.  I could have chosen anything for the year ahead and I decided what I really need is to keep things clean and organized, that I need to walk more and eat better.  Yes, it pleases me to have an orderly house, and I do feel better when I walk and pay attention to what I eat.

But where's the joy?

I had titled that post Out With The Old.  That is what I wanted to write about.  I started out talking about letting go of old habits.  Then I proceeded to fall right back into my pattern of setting things right.

This realization was stunning.  I wrote Heather an email to thank her:

Dear Heather,
     I have been struggling with depression for months.  It's a cycle that comes and goes and has for most of my life but this time feels different, deeper.  I have been working with my massage therapist and acupuncturist, who told me Friday she thinks it's a crisis of the soul.  I told her that didn't sound good....
     My birthday was Monday and to celebrate, after a lovely brunch with family on Sunday, I did laundry, ironed, updated albums, de-cluttered the house and basically "put everything right"....It held the anxiety at bay because now everything is in order.  I wrote a post about wanting more joy in my life and trying to feel less sad.
     Then I read your post about that very thing, except you connected the two in a way that has been just out of my grasp.  I don't feel joy at creating order any more.  As a child it worked.  As a mother it worked because my kids were there to provide the joyful moments.  The last seven years I have been searching for joy and I have just found more sadness.  I don't even want to put things in order but I didn't know why it helped or what to do instead.
     You have provided a piece of the puzzle that I didn't know was missing.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Since then I have been paying attention.  When do I feel happy?  Dinner with my daughter.  Conversations with friends.  Walks outside with Ken.  Phone calls from my sons.  Photos of my grandson from my daughter-in-law.  Watching a movie.

When do I feel anxious?  When things feel out of my control.  The irony is that when I am aware of it the anxiety actually worsens.  I am grateful for that because it makes me pay attention, especially when I don't want to.  I go through my daily routine pushing feelings aside and "getting things done."  Then in the middle of the night I wake up in a panic that I can't name or find a reason for.  It can take hours to get back to sleep.  This tells me that I'm on the right track in dealing with this now.  These periods of intense anxiety foreshadow change.

I have tried to write about this for days.  I questioned if it sounded like whining or self-pity.  I don't want that.  This is the elephant in the room, even if I'm the only one that can see it.  It is time to put it out there and move past it.

Lost puzzle pieces are rarely found.  This one is a gem that I intend to put to good use.            

What's In A Word

Well, it's official.  We are buried in snow.  I don't actually know the definition of "buried in snow" but I can tell you that we are and there should be a definition that reflects our current situation.  And?  It's cold, as in we were hoping today that the mercury would reach zero.

We are okay.  I ordered oil but yesterday the oil truck driver decided that he couldn't make it up our driveway due to the ice crystal coating.  Our oil tank is half full so we should be okay until next week when they will try again.  I turned the thermostats down to 62 which, when it's below zero outside, feels comfortable.  My hope is that this weather is not indicative of what we can expect for the next three months.

In thinking about the coming year I have followed with interest Carolynn's process in choosing a word for 2014.  Some years I choose a word and some years a word chooses me.  I waited and waited for a word to come to me for 2013 but it didn't happen; it's not something that can be forced.

This year was different.  After I read Carolynn's first post on the topic, a word started following me around.  I would think about how to handle a situation and this word would show up.  It fit.  I didn't want it to be my word ~ it wasn't positive or encouraging, even though it was good advice.  I needed a nicer way to say "detach."

I turned to my Angel Cards to see if another word fit the bill for 2014.  When I turned over one of the cards, I knew immediately that it was my word for the year, a word that is productive and promising when paired with the right intention.  This word has the potential for freedom from anxiety and worry, from obsessing over expectations, from trying to control outcomes, from holding onto things that I have no business holding onto.

My word for 2014 is "release."  I have tried it out and it works.

Sometimes I need a reminder to let go ~

A Good Day

Today was a day I didn't want to end.  The conversations flowed.  The food was delicious.  The time spent together was relaxing and fun. 

Everyone else is in bed but I am reluctant to let go of the day....

Throughout the day I visited Laura's 2013 Gratitude Quilt.  Tonight, reading words of thanksgiving from people around the world was the nicest way to end this wonderful day.

Yarn Harlot

Last evening my daughter and I drove to Rockland, on the coast of Maine, to hear a talk by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee aka the Yarn Harlot.  Stephanie knits, writes books and blog posts about her life as a knitter, and travels the continent telling stories about her knitting life.  She is hilarious.  I haven't laughed that much in a very long time.

The topic of last night's talk was "Your Brain on Knitting."  There is a fair amount of research, carried out at Harvard and Princeton and MIT and Cambridge, about how repetitive visual-spacial tasks enhance brain function and aid the brain in repairing and building neuropathways.  While most of the research doesn't specifically list knitting as a repetitive visual-spatial task, the process of creating items out of yarn with needles meets all of the criteria.  I plan to track down the research because I want to know more.

I am a beginner knitter of the basic knit and purl variety.  Thirty years ago I made a few simple sweaters.  More recently I've knitted scarves and small cotton dishcloths.  While I was visiting Martha's Vineyard I bought yarn to make a scarf to ease my way back into the craft.  My daughter is encouraging me to pick up my knitting needles again.

She has good reason to ~ knitting helped her get through medical school.  I showed Kristen how to knit simple squares when she was in elementary school, and she made doll blankets.  Years later she picked up needles and yarn again because she said keeping her hands busy helped her concentrate when attending lectures in medical school.  I don't know how she knew to do it, but the research bears out what Kristen knew ten years ago, that knitting makes your brain work better.

And I'm all for more brain power ~  

Again With The Needles

I had an acupuncture appointment today.  It's been three years since my last visit.  The woman I see, Brett, welcomes me back each time and starts from wherever I am.  I told her I had hoped to feel better before I came to see her.  She smiled.  Maybe that's not the first time she's heard that.

I told her about my clogged sinuses and dry eyes and the tightness in my chest.  She nodded.  All are connected to my liver...blood...chi...something...something.  I really don't understand all of the biology.  Basically my liver is gummed up and I need help to get things moving again.  She put needles in my hands, feet, ankles, and right ear.  Then she covered me with a metallic space age blanket, and I rested for a half hour.  I felt a bit better after that.  I have some herbs to take and will return to see her in three weeks.

It is time to feel better.

I have been sad this year.  I have given up on where I thought my life was going and given into my feelings of sadness.  I have taken a long hard look at where I am.  I needed time to come to terms with the reality of my life, a good life but not the life I was working toward.  

It is time to accept what is.

Two weeks ago Kira at kiwords wrote a post about her wish to know how to be happy.  She wrote that she used to blog to capture her kids' childhood.  She has decided to blog now to recapture her own adulthood.  Her words have stayed with me.

My daughter posted today at her blog for the first time in four years.  She reminded me that this is NaBloPoMo, a month where bloggers commit to publish a post daily for thirty days.  I haven't ever made such a commitment...until now.  I've never thought I had that much to say, or that people would be that interested that they would stop by more than a few times a month.  This year I've gone for long periods of time without posting for a myriad of reasons. 

It is time for a change.

I have lots of thoughts rattling around in my head.  It's time to get them out into the open so I can bring some order to the chaos and make a plan.

See you tomorrow ~

Life As A Quilt

I have been thinking about how pieced together my life feels lately.  Some days it feels like nothing matches up, yet somehow the bits fit together, and each day is a piece of the quilt.

This probably came to mind because on Wednesday my daughter and I went to Babson College for an exhibit and discussion about non-traditional quilts.  We particularly wanted to meet Chawne Kimber, aka Completely Cauchy; here is her post about her time in Boston.  Her work is extraordinary and special, and it was a pleasure to meet her.  We also met Andrew Mowbray, who makes paper quilts from Tyvek, a material used in the construction of buildings.  The other two quilts I am sharing here are by artists who were not at the reception: Kathryn Clark uses fabric to map cities that have been hard hit by the foreclosure crisis; and Kyoung Ae Cho attaches natural materials to fabric, and as they change the quilt changes.

Sharecropper Quilt by Chawne Kimber

Self-Study, One for T by Chawne Kimber

007 by Andrew Mowbray

Miami Foreclosure Quilt by Kathryn Clark

Fallen by Kyoung Ae Cho

My Gratitude

On Thursday Laura will post her Gratitude Quilt.  I encourage you to visit her site, especially if you haven't seen the Quilt before.  It is amazing.

I have contributed in years past.  I didn't this year.  I thought about it.  I would close my eyes, take a deep breath, and think about what I am grateful for.  Everything that comes to mind belongs to someone else: my kids are great, my husband loves his job, my friends check in when they don't hear from me, and so on.  When I focused on what is mine, I see my car.  I can say that here but I'm not going to share that with the world.

I continue to push forward like I always have.  I exercise, meditate, practice lovingkindness, and make an effort to do things for others.  I support and encourage family members and friends in their endeavors. Yet, I cannot gain any traction in getting where I want to be in the world.

I was thinking about this on Sunday while I made the bed.  One more thing is not going to work out the way I thought it would.  I let go of the expectation without a second thought.  I questioned why I am able to do that.  Am I hard hearted?  I looked at that question objectively, not judging whether it was good or bad but wondering if that could be an explanation.  Is that why I keep going?

Later in the day my daughter and I went shopping.  She came back to the house for the evening, and after dinner she and I lingered over coffee at the table.  We both follow bloggers who have children, and we regularly discuss the different ways people handle their experiences.  My daughter has friends who have children, and she is seriously considering what it means to be a parent.  She asked me how I did it.  More specifically she wanted to know how I knew how to be a parent to her.

I thought for a moment.  I was 23 when she was born.  I was overwhelmed with joy at her birth, while at the same time I was heartbroken at the loss of her twin sister.  I didn't know enough to know all the things that could go wrong.  I didn't have time to be scared.  I knew I had a tiny baby to care for, I was the person responsible for her life.

On Sunday I told her that she came first, that she survived and thrived were the most important things.  I always wanted her to know she was loved no matter what.  My sadness was mine and separate from her.  My living daughter was my priority, as were her brothers when they were born.  I would do what I needed to do for me on my own time.  I never wanted my children to feel responsible for my feelings.  I am the parent and it was my job to take care of them. 

Then my daughter thanked me.  She said she has always felt loved and accepted for who she is.  She knew I was sad sometimes but never felt that it was her fault or that she had to take care of me.  She watched me get better, and she thanked me for modeling how to work through problems. 

I told her that I would have missed so much joy if I had done it any other way.  I wanted to be present for every moment of my children's lives.

I asked her if she thought I was hard hearted.  Sometimes I pushed my children to keep going, too.  She said she always knew I cared, that I would be there for her no matter what.

I am grateful that I had this conversation with my daughter.  This is what I will remember about Thanksgiving this year.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.  May your gratitude find you, too.   

Double The Fun

I have some thoughts to share about a few things...that can wait until another day.

Today I want to thank two of my blogging friends for giving me a shout out.

Thanks to Teri at Teri H Photography for my "Versatile Blogger Award" ~ I take that as a lovely compliment. Teri's photography and reflections on life inspire me to look for beauty every day.

Thanks to Starr at Life Decanted for tagging me in the "Random Stuff Meme" ~ it was fun to read the bits she chose to share. Starr is an amazing mom and a social worker who makes a real difference in people's lives.

I am going to combine my responses to Teri and Starr by posting random stuff about myself, based on Starr's questions, in this post. Life is too much with me these days to do more than that. I recommend a stop by the blogs in my "sites to visit" list if you are interested in the lives of the talented women I know through blogging.

Now for the random bits about myself:

My favorite childhood memory is of time I spent with Aunt Kate and Uncle Doots, who raised my mom and were the grandparents I knew the best. From a young age I loved spending the night at their house, and as I got older I enjoyed going to work with each of them. My uncle drove a bus in Arlington, Virginia. My aunt, who was a teacher, worked at a correspondence school for hotel/motel management.

If I could go anywhere in the world for a week I would travel to Paris, France. Since I was in fourth grade I have dreamed of sitting in the cafes and seeing the sights of Paris.

Hands down my favorite colors are green and blue, together and apart ~ green the color of new life, and blue the color of the sky and ocean.

The famous person I would choose to spend time with is Rachel Maddow, host of her own show on MSNBC. I watch her show online. She's smart and funny, and I appreciate the way she is able to see all the angles and layers of current events. I share her politics [which may tell you more about me than anything else I could say] and I would like to talk to her about everything.

I started blogging because I was beside myself with loneliness. My daughter knew how to help and set me up with a blog...oh my, exactly four years ago. I wrote my first post on March 23, 2008. I couldn't imagine how I would meet people online, and now I can't imagine life without the friendships I've made through blogging.

I am an Aquarius. When I had my birth chart read, he told me that Aquarius is a humanitarian who sees no color. I have been that way since I was a small child.

My best friend in elementary school was a girl named Debbie. Her dad was in the military and she started at my school when he was stationed at Bolling Air Force Base. She told me years later that she didn't like me at first; I knew everyone and she felt like an outsider. We didn't have much in common but we liked and trusted each other. I spent a lot of time at her house during the years she lived in my neighborhood. I was one of the first to know when she got pregnant at 16 and one of the few witnesses at her wedding. When I left home at 19 I moved in with Debbie and her husband for the summer before I went back to college. She was in my wedding. While we don't get together often, we love to hear from each other.

My most transcendent experience has been motherhood. Ken and I decided in the spring of 1979 that we wanted to have children, which was a change from the career tracks we were on when we got married. Being a mother to my daughter and two sons made me who I am today. I thank my children for teaching me about what really matters in life.

The first books I remember reading were the Ramona Quimby books by Beverly Cleary. My daughter was just telling me she recommended the books to the daughter of a friend ~ Ramona's adventures are timeless.

I was not popular in high school because I got along with everyone. I didn't belong to one clique or another but chose to find something interesting about people as individuals.

I prefer painted walls over white walls. Paint is an inexpensive way to add warmth to a room.

More about me next time ~ now I need to watch Syracuse win (hopefully) their game with Ohio State.

A Change Of Mind

I am going to tell on myself: I have been in a rut for months.

My daily routine has served a purpose as a way to get through the days while I have had lots of time on my own. When I didn't know which way to turn or what to do next I figured there was always laundry to wash, meals to cook, vacuuming to do, bathrooms to clean, paperwork to file, cars to maintain...and when I finished one round I could start again. My days were busy, if not fulfilling.

In the process I established a habit of putting off finishing things because I have had a lot of time to fill. I recognized this pattern and have made attempts to step up the pace and set deadlines to get projects completed so I can start again, do things differently, move forward.

It's not that I haven't been trying to climb out of this place I've made for myself.

The harder I've tried to do things differently, the more stuck in place I've become. Default position of the daily routine wins again. After all, there will be hours tomorrow, there will be days next week. Meanwhile the days look the same and anything that would break me out of the routine gets put off.

For a long time I thought I needed to change me.

I got past that misconception and figured I needed to change my situation.

When that didn't work I conceded I was stuck.

Or that is what I thought....

Now I know a change of mind will change everything.

Like any new way of doing, it's taking time and effort to establish new patterns. Thankfully, I am not alone. My friend Teri is focusing on the word "pause" this year, and she is generously sharing her journey with photos and reflections. Thank you, Teri, and maybe we can encourage each other.

Now I know I can do something new, I can choose to do things differently.

Tomorrow when I wake up I will pause and consider the possibilities.

I Am Learning

I had planned a different post for today. I had a wonderful day with my daughter yesterday, not only because we got a lot accomplished but also because we enjoy each other's company. Today I was going to share that apple muffin recipe that has become a favorite around here. But this morning the disappointment in myself has come crashing down. Then the guilt landed hard because I have no reason to mope around ~ my life is good, my family is healthy ~ and I feel badly because I'm sad. I have errands to do and a trip out always helps. I wanted to check my reader before I left.... You know how sometimes the right words come to you at just the right moment? Well, with tears on my cheeks I want to share the poem that Jan posted today. I will be okay ~

After A While

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman,
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn.

©1971 Veronica A. Shoffstall

Self Indulgence

Three nights last week I made delicious dinners: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, fresh kale, and warm homemade applesauce on Wednesday; quesadillas, Spanish rice, and kale salad on Thursday; and baked acorn squash with sausage and breadcrumbs on Friday. I was on a roll.

Then we had leftovers all weekend. Saturday I made oatmeal cookies.

I still had enough tidbits this week to keep me fed and happy while Ken was out of town.

Tonight I made vegetable bean soup, with pinto beans left over from the quesadillas [a recipe that is so good I will share it when I get the cookbook, a computer, and my glasses in the same room], kale salad, and apple muffins [another new recipe that is wonderful].

There was a shift from the dread of having to make dinner to thinking about what might taste good for dinner. The only expectations were the ones I put on myself...

and I carried that thinking right into the first three days this week. I don't have a cold or the flu. I haven't just had surgery. In fact I'm in excellent health. That doesn't mean that I can't take a few days off once in a while.

I spent three days without one "should."

It was heaven.

I spent one whole day in my quiet house with nothing on my agenda other than reading Julia's blog from the beginning. I started reading her sometime last year because my daughter kept sharing funny vignettes about Julia's kids. I'd been curious about her story and decided to take time to read it, and I'm glad I did. Julia persevered. She said it might not make sense to others that she wasn't giving up, but that was okay. Though our situations are in no way alike, I totally understand her unwillingness to let go of her heart's desire.

That doesn't mean that it's not a good idea to take a break once in a while.

Other things I did this week included eating Twizzlers, going to the movies with my daughter, hanging quilts on the clothesline for that fresh air smell, enjoying Netflix offerings that I know don't interest Ken, and taking long baths.

I feel refreshed. The laundry got done today and the car will get inspected tomorrow.

The world goes on whether I'm paying attention or not.

A Dedicated Post

With my daughter's help I started this blog exactly three years and five months ago.

This is post number five hundred. That's five zero zero.

I had no idea. I don't keep track and know this tidbit only because I was in the edit room knocking about and checking the shelves to see if there was anything to recycle. I have been in clean-it-up and clear-it-out mode for weeks now. All my drawers are organized, and my closets look more like closets and less like fully stocked storage units.

I knew little about blogging when I started this gig. My daughter followed blogs as a college student and started one as a med student, when there were no handy dandy templates and she had to figure out how to write code to get what she wrote to show up on the interwebs. Over time I gained a basic understanding of what a blog was and figured out how to follow her online journal.

In the spring of 2008 I wanted to touch base with friends and family more often than I was. My daughter encouraged me to start a blog and I kept saying no, until she sat me down one day and took me through the process step by step.

This endeavor has been moderately successful as a way to keep in touch with old friends and minimally successful as a way to let family know what I'm up to. However, blogging has been a huge success as a way to connect with other women. Many of you have become good friends and I am grateful to know you.

And I owe it all to my daughter. I couldn't have done it without you, K. Thank you for your patience and encouragement. While I had no idea, you knew it all along.

Here's to the next 500 ~

Life Is In The Bits And Pieces

This has been a week of extremes. Wednesday I wrote about the banner day I'd had. It felt good to mark on my calendar the day of my next interview. It was cathartic to cheer wildly each time the Bruins scored.

Yet for some this has been a week of extreme loss.

Last weekend I learned of the death of a friend's friend, someone I have known for years because she worked in the main office at the high school. She was the mother of one of my daughter's friends, and she kept track of my sons as they signed in or out as they came and went for appointments during the school day. She was two years older than I am, working and grandparenting, and she knew something was wrong but doctors couldn't pinpoint exactly what... until they found cancer in her lung just weeks ago. The news caused me to pause, and I will keep her family and friends in my prayers.

Then tonight I learned of another death that has shaken me in another way ~ someone I have never met personally but someone I met through blogging and have followed for over a year. I first commented on a post Char wrote about John Hiatt and Lyle Lovett in February of last year. When I visited her blog ramblins I was so taken with her writing and photography that I went back to her beginning and read each post. I hadn't planned to comment but I couldn't not connect with another John Hiatt fan. She was 53 and her death was unexpected. I will keep her family and friends in my prayers, as well.

In a way I knew Char better than I know a lot of people in person. Through her writing and photography she shared her life, the ups and downs of day to day living. Her words gave shape to her thoughts and her photos brought life to her vision. Up close and personal. She trusted her readers with her innermost hopes and fears. It's those bits and pieces that matter.

That's where life is.

Mindfulness

The main theme of my current Flight School course is mindfulness. The idea is to pay attention ~ to what I say to myself, to the thoughts I have, to my emotions, and to how I respond to these words, thoughts, and feelings. I have the choice to speak to myself kindly. I can dismiss the thoughts that do not serve me well, just let them go. The key here is to remember that I am not my thoughts, in the same way that I am not my emotions. I may be feeling one way or another, but that feeling does not define who I am. Feelings can move through me if I choose to let them go.

I have been introduced to the work of Sylvia Boorstein through the Buddha Chick courses with Jan Lundy. Sylvia says that every moment of mindfulness is a prayer for peace, an act of compassion for myself and others.

An assignment for one of our Flight School modules was to listen to a talk recorded by Sylvia on the topic of mindfulness. The ideas she shared have been helpful in recent days. I feel like there is little I can do to make the world a better place. I want peace and justice for all. I want people to be able to live their lives with equality and fairness. Any action I might take seems inadequate....

Then I review Sylvia's words:

I cannot stop wars; I can't do much more than control the habits of my mind.

I can't finish the job, but I can't not start.

What is happening is the only thing that could be.

It's a lawful world. There is no blame or fault; there are causes and conditions. Things happen.

When I ask what should I do, the answer is mindfulness.

Every moment of mindfulness is a prayer for peace.

I am reminded that I can control only myself. I make a difference when I am mindful about what I say to myself and others, what I think, and what I feel.

Those feel like small things, but they are things I can do. They are ways to be that make a difference in my life, which in turn impact how I am with others.

Each moment I am mindful I am saying a prayer for peace.