A little post Christmas glow...

Yesterday, quite unplanned as I had much else to do, I settled in to watch many, many episodes of HGTV and Food Network.  I mean, it was a lazy couple of days, which is sometimes okay after a busy holiday, but I really should have been back at it.  We had a great Christmas season and while it isn’t over, but is winding down, I have so much to look forward to in 2015! I’m excited. 

My newest grandchild, who had a January 1 due date, arrived December 8 so was a special gift under the tree this year and she is a beauty.  Sweet, smells divine, and just all around pleasure.  Her older brother is active, often ornery, and also as precious and sweet as she…just in a different way.  We enjoyed much time with these two this month and can’t wait until we see them, oh yeah, and their parents, again. 

My other two grandchildren are just a wee bit older and so dog gone funny, fun, smart, witty.  It’s a riot around them and I am constantly amazed by their brains.  Gosh, how fast kids learn!  The oldest, who just turned 6, has discovered card games, sewing, reading and jokes.  She keeps us on our toes, and we love being there.    

Because we have been able to spend a fair amount of time with these two families, and also my son and his beautiful bride, it has increased discussion, both for and against, our remodeling.  Maybe one of the reasons I hunkered down on the couch and watched remodeling show after remodeling show, house hunters, tiny house hunters, tiny house living, brothers, husband and wife…show after show.  Hubs has been busy working in the basement, converting some space and sprucing up some other as he got it in his head six months or so ago that we needed to put bunk beds down there.  I don’t think he is wrong, mind you, I just wish I had been on the same trajectory and schedule, and gee, discussion may have been appropriate.  He has made MANY of the decisions on this project by himself and I feel almost left out.  I don’t particularly like that feeling, quite honestly, and it has led to a couple of ouchy moments. 

I have ouchy moments and when I do, they don’t go unnoticed.  Or, if they do, they just get ouchier.  Now, remember, I am the gal that is seeking joy, spreading joy, spewing joy as one of my lifestyle choices/goals so the ouchiness comes as a struggle for me.  I don’t want to do it but next thing I know something sneaks out…something snarky. Maybe I should say, or admit, the ouchiness becomes a struggle for me to shake off or to rein in.  Once unleashed, it can get pretty outta hand.   

Luckily, the basement is the basement.  Stairs are good for moving ouchiness to another room, and level, of the house.  By the time hubs is feeling it might be safe enough to climb the stairs and breeze through the kitchen, I have allowed the ouchiness to have its moment and am under some recognizably better disposition.  But, boy, I enjoy stomping up those stairs, muttering not quite under my breath.  I could slam the door but if I shut it, he can’t hear what else I might mutter so I always leave it open.   

Fact is, he has done a great job and while I agree with most of the decisions he has made and marvel at some I see as totally unnecessary or silly, he is the one investing all the time. I am totally engaged in the remodeling we are, or are not, planning on the rest of the house so I am good with his taking over in the basement.  We have a couple of long winter months ahead of really reaching agreement with our next project, so it is best if he gets this out of his system as there won’t be stairs to separate us during this next phase!

Muse and amuse!

My blog post is late this week as I have been slightly preoccupied with a new granddaughter so I am giving you a few musings…in no particular order:

A daughter giving birth is one of life’s most exhilarating and terrifying experiences.

There is nothing softer than a newborn’s cheeks. 

I love Christmas cookies and the people who bake them. 

Nothing is cuter than a five or six year old without their front teeth.

It has taken quite a few taste tests but I prefer my oatmeal raisin cookies without chocolate chips.

I quite like chocolate chip cookies.

I am fearful of the winter’s snow for 2014/2015 but I am also not going to let it stop me.

I need a new warm coat so I can’t be stopped.

And boots.

I have vowed to not wear “mom jeans”.  I wear denim but not like that.

I have bought a new pair of “mom jeans”.  I struggled against it but couldn’t find anything else in black rinse. 

It's December 19th and I don't have my Santas out as planned. 

I am not getting my Santas out as planned.

My plans for building a tree have changed but, I am letting go.

I struggle with letting go.

 

From eagles to bluebirds, I've earned my wings!

Last week while walking my little dog around the yard,  I have to admit to being a little delighted upon discovering a tree had fallen during the night winds.  This old cherry tree, that sometimes produced fruit but often did not, gave it up and fell gently over.

Why was I delighted? You know it! I will be cutting a large branch off this tree and shoving it in a bucket for Christmas lights.  Happy.  I am happy about this old tree falling right on over when I needed it. I am sad about losing the old tree, don't get me wrong.

I was also delighted last week, while the dog was in the yard and I was fooling around closer to the house, to see two, yes two, bald eagles diving and fishing right out in front of the house, in plain view, at a relatively reasonable hour so that I could see it, soaring, dipping and circling.  And, some screeching of that highly identifiable eagle screech. No missing that call.

I was so excited, I ran in the house, tried to call my sister-in-law when I remembered her cell phone was on the front porch in a crock pot (don't ask, just accept).   Tried to call the house and the call would not complete.  Are you kidding?  Wanted to run over but drapes were drawn, which typically means she is not up or ready for company.  Aw, shoot, she missed it.

Later in the day, I walked over to tell her what she missed.  I was really excited when, standing in the kitchen, I looked out the window and the freaking eagle was just outside, high on a branch but fully visible.  We were like school girls who saw the latest TV star or something.  Giddiness.

You know, when I saw the eagles, and I couldn't get my sister-in-law on the phone, I wanted to yell "Does anyone see these eagles?" and "Am I the only one seeing these eagles!?".  Years ago, I claimed to see a turkey in the yard and I took no small amount of grief for announcing to my in-laws, who thought of me as a city girl, that there had been said turkey in the yard.  It was a joke for a couple years, until, lo, one of them saw a turkey in the yard.   Since that turkey sighting, and especially after claiming I saw it fly, (yes, WKRP, they do fly a little) I have earned a little bird cred.

As confident as I am when celebrating the sighting of something that is usually "not this far north" or "doesn't come into areas with this many trees" or whatever I have heard over the years, and proving otherwise, I try not to cartwheel when I see something like circling eagles dive bombing the lake in front of my patch of paradise.   I try to keep it together as there is a chance, that even with my bird cred, I am mistaken.

But, golly, did you SEE those eagles?

"Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it"

Late September or early October of 2013 I wrote a blog post about my great nephew, Noah.  Of his strength, of his becoming a leader, a rock for his friends as they said goodbye to a dear friend, a force in his own right, who lost his life through a tragic, sudden and shocking event.   I wrote of Noah’s parents who opened their home to allow a place for kids to fall softly and safely, together.  Some of whom knew Jake well, some only knowing their friends were in pain, so they were in pain.  It did not matter if they knew Jake at all, this was a community of kids, who were in it for each other and they hurt.  They needed a leader, and they found one in Noah, as he opened his heart and his parents opened their home, for kids to heal. 

To everything there is a season and the days went on, as days do, and time healed, as time does.  School went on, the holidays came, spring break, summer.  Kids were back in school and life was doing what life does. 

Noah felt such deep pain and he struggled and worked his way through it. He went to basketball games and dances, laughed on the beach.  We, who love him so, saw it in his face, the pain and the loss which remained.  While he smiled, he grieved.  When he laughed, he heard the echo of the boy who was always at his side.  He spoke of Jake, he presented Jake, he represented Jake. 

Shortly after Jake’s passing, I wrote of my nephew.  It’s over a year and he has just come off an amazing football season, one in which he let no one forget his best friend, who was not there to play but started and finished each game with his team ~ forever on the field.  The miracle season is over and a new chapter begins for these men of the game.  Noah will start a new sport and a new semester.  He’s just turned 18 and he has massive arms. 

However, the Noah I watch today is different than the young leader of a year ago.  It would have been easy, and maybe even expected, for a 17-year old to give up the cause.  To want to go back to the way it was so fiercely ~ of being a guy, a jock, a teenager ~ that you just do.  But, this young man, this nephew, used his grief, engaged his grief, to become more than what he knew he had the ability to be.  Oh, he wanted to go back, no doubt, more than anything, but, instead he battled this past year and it is now added to his history. This year is woven into his strong foundation of love, of family, friendship and faith ~  not a bad start to 18, Noah.  Happiest of birthdays, dear boy ~ happiest of days. 

Give yourself a treat! I know I will.

Today is one of those days that reminds me I have reached my age.  I had to wake up early and not eat so I could have my lab work drawn for my semi-annual visit to the doctor.  It reminds me of how old I am.  I find myself thinking  “How old was my mom when…” to compare myself to what I remember about her.  “How old was mom when my son was born?”  or “How old was my mom when she moved to Florida”.  I remember mom going to the doctor regularly, as did my dad, when they moved to Florida.  It seemed like one of them was there all the time.

It’s beginning to feel that way to me, too.  It seems that I am either at the doctor or calling in a prescription for refill every other day.  It’s annoying.  It’s bothersome.  I don’t like lab work.  I don’t particularly like my doctor all that much to pay to see him.  I mean, he’s nice but not worth the price of admission, if you know what I mean. 

So I award myself a little prize on days that I must fast, then have lab work for my doctor’s appointment in a week or so.  It’s the Burger King Bacon, Cheese and Egg croissant.  Since my doctor is not far from the local BK I just drive myself right over there to treat myself to this high fat, highly satisfying breakfast sandwich.  I have to get up earlier, do something with my hair, put on clothes way too early for my normal routine and to the lab, wait, stick, here’s your cup, see you later and breakfast before 10:00 a.m.

Now, understand, I only do this on lab work days. I am to eat breakfast every day, or so the dietician told me, and she did show me portion sizes and make suggestions.  I am pretty good with my toast and egg or cereal and fruit. Granted she did not say the Burger King Croissanwich is an excellent choice for breakfast, but it is once every six months, so I think I’m good.  

Besides, it’s French and it makes me feel fancy.

Bottling joy.

I am running between visits to the capitol city as I participate in various events for grandchildren and at the end of this week, I am going to attend my first “Grandparents Day”. I am looking forward to it, probably more than is acceptable but that’s how we grannies do it.

I had a great experience with my 5-almost-6 year old granddaughter over the weekend. Minor, silly and a first for her and I. We played Crazy 8s. These are such standout moments for me that I often wonder why I don’t really remember playing Crazy 8s with my own children. I’m sure I did but I just don’t really recall it. I am SURE, however, that I am going to remember this session of Crazy 8s with my brilliant granddaughter for a very long time.

There was something about the look on her face, her eyes lighting up as she scanned her cards, her giggle as she would win a hand, her victory squeal, a little dance in her chair.

How can this bring me to tears? To the heights of joy? I wish I could bottle it but instead all I can do is ask her to deal out another game…I want this to last forever.

 

No complaints here!

I love the weaving together of people and their stories.  This is not new for me and I may have bored you with it before.  It’s more than small town “Hey, they married so and so, who is my such and such”.  It’s a bit more global and it amazes me when it happens.

 

I also truly enjoy when people come together in a way that you wouldn’t otherwise expect or spend a lot of time planning.  Now, granted, there has to be some commonality and a certain amount of intent but it still is an enjoyable thing.  My weekend held a couple of these kinds of happenings.  Let me explain. 

 

Facebook is a wonderful tool.  It is abused and misused but it is also a wonderful communication tool.  The fact that we get to eavesdrop on others conversations is a bit disturbing,  but hey, Facebook isn’t new…haven’t we all learned by now to be a bit discreet about what we post on Facebook? If you haven’t, well, don’t look to the other guy as to be at fault.  Anyway, I noticed on Facebook that a few of my circle of friends were arranging to attend a 5K race. Not being a runner (I know, shocker) at first it was more like a “Hey, that’s a neat event” but it turned in to a little more as others started commenting they would be joining in.  
 

But hating to be left out of anything…I chimed in.  Long story short, I was at breakfast yesterday with some folks that would be unusual to put together on any other day.  It was their connections with each other, though, and with me, that caused us to be breaking bread, in a noisy restaurant.  I love this kind of stuff.  I realized as I sat there that my son and daughter-in-law were the common denominators, and that made it fun for them, although I am not sure they stopped to think about it as much as I did.  In fact, I’m just gonna go right ahead and say bet not. 

 

Weekends are wonderful things and I truly hope we can continue to make the most of ours, and everyday.  This weekend was another reminder to me of how very lucky we are, how very blessed.   We started with a fun and successful football game, a marching band with state honors, a satisfying breakfast in a big city with people I love, and ended the weekend celebrating one of my all-time favorite people.  Complain about anything in my life?  Well, no, I wouldn’t possibly dare!   

One tiny last hurrah

Hubs has been working really hard on the leaves this week.  It’s a big chore with all our oak and maple trees.  He is a machine when it comes to the leaves, however, and he has machines to help…a blower and a vacuum thing that goes behind his tractor.  Except for the amount of time it takes, it is much easier than it was years ago before obtaining these pieces of equipment.

I don’t want to take anything from him, though.  He is a hard working guy and I appreciate all that he does to keep the yard in tip-top shape.  It looks beautiful out my office window.  He took the extra step to blow the leaves off my walking trail and bridge and it makes all the difference when looking out this window to see the trail cut through the woods.  I love it.

I did bring up a sore subject yesterday, however, in the midst of his packing up his gear and tools for the day.  Christmas lights.  Now, we have a tree we decorated with lights last year.  This small tree, near the house, has the lights on it year round and is super pretty.  But, I like lighted trees and yesterday I walked around in the woods looking trees over to see if there were any candidates out there.  I pointed out a couple and he only grunted.  You would think he didn’t enjoy the lights, but I know he does.  He either hates putting them up or hates putting them up with my “assistance”. 

Let’s face it, I’m not much help.  I get cold.  I can’t reach very high and I’m kind of fussy.  I try to direct the circling of the branches as gently as I can, but, it’s not always the sender, you know, sometimes it is the receiver.  Some of this may sound a bit familiar to you as the little tree, which now has lights, has been talked about before.  Anyway, he didn’t see a tree that he thinks will work so that brings me to fake trees.  I have asked if he could “build” a tree from branches cut from live trees and he looked at me like I have developed a third eye. It can’t be impossible, can it? To put some sand and rocks or whatever in a bucket, shove some fairly good sized limbs in and call it a tree? I’ll let you know how this discussion goes…it ain’t over.

I was busy yesterday, too, emptying planters and putting away garden ornaments.  I removed flowers and dirt and put all the empty pots in one place, moved shovels and watering cans and rakes.  I sometimes have let flowers winter over in pots and then have that to deal with in the spring, when I am anxious to plant.  This year, I was rewarded as I emptied a pot near a rose bush.  Near the ground, on a little tiny branch, was a small, fragrant rose.  A bit cold and late for new blooms, isn’t it? But this was my reward for being a good steward to my plants this year…isn’t she sweet?   

Watermelon, watermelon.

I had the cutest, little round, sweet-faced grandmother of all time.  She was iconic in her ways and her appearance.  So absolutely precious, and almost as wide as tall, she raised chickens and sold watermelons by the side of the road.   She had a nickname that summed her up, cast upon her by her first grandchild, Bannie.

My Bannie was a southern grandmother.  She was not the fully-gowned, coifed and bejeweled southern grandmother of novels and movies.  She was hardworking in her little farm and kitchen, with a sweet almost gravely voice and a way of playing the piano, and the accordion, that entertained and ministered at the same time ~ a cross between ragtime and gospel, Bannie banged out self-taught songs and hymns with passion and pleasure.  I miss her terribly at times as I know I will never run across another individual like my Bannie.  Gosh, I wish you ALL could have known my grandmother. 

I use to love to walk among the watermelons, which lay in her shady front yard.  They were sweet, they were cool and they were plentiful.  They had them brought in by the truckload, not grown on their property, but they took up residence until a customer came to test Bannie’s crop.  My grandfather, Boppa, settled in near the shed as Bannie worked her magic and picked out just the right melon for you.  Oh, he would work the customers, too, but I remember Bannie the most, bending her squat roundness, much like the melon itself, and "thumping" the melon, pluck it from the rows upon rows on the ground, hold it over her shoulder in one hand, smile her sweet smile and declare the melon ripe. If you questioned it, why, take it to my grandfather and have him plug it.  He would cut a triangle deep into the melon’s flesh to pull out a sweet, juicy portion.  If you needed to have your melon cold, say, on your way to a family get together or picnic, well, that was accomplished easily as well as melons were plunged in ice water in a large cooler to float and twirl and chill.  It was heaven there.

Bannie loved.  She loved us deeply and forgivingly and we could do no wrong in Bannie’s eyes.  When we visited, she would find little items to give to us among her treasures.  Bannie never had a lot, but she gave to us every time.  As she got older, and we got wiser, we learned to take it when Bannie offered you something.  If you were reluctant, perhaps thinking she wasn’t thinking clearly or might still need it, she was going to give it to someone else when they visited.

Sweet memories of my Bannie came flooding back to me last week as I seasoned a cast iron skillet she gave me on one of my last visits, before she got sick.  I was reluctant to take it as thought she might still use it as she fried up a mean chicken, let me tell you.  I thought about her telling me it belonged to a great aunt and had been in the family for a long time. Did she really mean for me to have it?

I accepted the pan, thrilled to have a family heirloom.  I have used it for years and it is truly fantastic.  I think of my Bannie every time I pull that heavy pan out of the cabinet, and maybe that was her intent. I have also heard from a few relatives over the years that Bannie gave them an old cast iron skillet.  I heard they didn’t take it at the time and have heard they have the “family heirloom”, a skillet that belonged to a great aunt. I laugh to myself as I realize Bannie gave my skillet away 10 times over or more, and had more than one skillet to give,  but I am so glad to have it and the memories it brings, every time. 

Happy Birthday!

I am approaching a milestone birthday, turning 60 in just a few days.  I have spent the last couple weeks planning and reflecting and not posting on this blog.  I wanted to really be ready for the next decade of my life.  Being in my 60s.  Goodness.

I realize some of you are already there and may even think, c’mon, get on with it, but as I have explained in the past, I use my birthday for resolutions rather than New Year.  I take it as kind of a big deal.  More than a New Year, a birthday says a lot about you, so I think it is a better time to reflect and resolve.  I mean, everyone is having a New Year, but your birthday is you, right?

There you go.  Resolve.  Turning 60 to me is a resolution all it’s own.  Since there are different definitions of the verb resolve, I considered both.   Resolve 1.  Settle or find a solution to a problem, dispute or contentious matter.  Resolve 2. Decide firmly on a course of action.  

Anyway, I have a list of things to resolve, short list, but things are there and I have a list of things to resolve.  When making New Year’s resolutions, I think many of us leave out the first resolve ~ to settle or find a solution.  Some years, maybe we don’t have anything that would fall in to that category.  I won’t lie ~ I have a couple “contentious matters” to resolve, and I will.  

I want a clean slate going in to my sixties.  I don’t like contentious matters any more than the next guy but I also don’t like stewing.  I don’t want to stew, I don’t want you to stew, I don’t want it to stew.   Sometimes, contentious matters need to be left alone and forgotten and if that is best, I promise to myself that I will move on, I will resolve, instead of letting something get my goat or be stuck in my craw.  If it is a situation that needs personal attention, well, even though it might make me uncomfortable for the moment, I will resolve it.  

I resolve to look at situations with a more positive lens.  I know there are times when I am too negative, when I view my situations from the negative position.  I know when I am in it, I hear myself and I resolve to move out of that stance.  Going in to my sixties, I just don’t want to be there.  Have you ever met a bitter, cranky, negative, gloomy gus in their sixties? Yes, me, too and I will not be them.  I will not.
Hubs and I had a long talk the other evening, sitting on our swing, watching the lake go to sleep.  I said, without announcing it as a resolution, I want to take more pleasure, more joy out of each day.   Last year, I purchased a little crafty sign at a friend’s store that says, simply, “Take Joy”.  I resolve to take more joy out of life, more joy out of the day. This is a very personal goal for me, and it was somewhat difficult to speak about it to someone else, but saying things out loud, sharing them with someone you trust, is a good first step to resolution.  Once it is from your heart and has passed your lips, well, it is more real.  My big resolution as I turn 60 is to take joy.

Finally, along with taking joy, I resolve to give joy.  To make your day brighter if I can, to lighten your burden, to share with you our very good, very blessed life.  I will be more joyful for those I love, for those I know, for those I meet.  I will be a more joyful person for you. 

To settle a problem or two, to move out of the negative, to take joy and to give joy.  Happy 60 to me.  

These weekend days are full to overflowing.  With the great weather has come some real work in the yard and the inside of my house is showing a bit of neglect as we spend these last golden days outside. I try not to think about it as I know there are days ahead when staying inside is the only option. 

Feeling a little overwhelmed with the woods, I called my sister-in-law over to sit on the steps with me a bit and brainstorm my landscaping. She has spent more time in these woods than I and knows the history. I invited my neighbor over to sit on the steps and brainstorm a bit as she sees directly into our woods.  Both these ladies have completely different aesthetics than each other, as well as different than mine, and I wanted to hear their thoughts, ideas, answer questions, ask questions.

After walking the yard with my sister-in-law and discussing first goals, I transplanted a small Japanese Maple tree to an area to get more sun and I began planning an arbor using removed tree limbs and small trees.  I thinned out more maple saplings and fed the transplanted rhododendron starts.  Hubs has a plan for part of the area where the rhododendron had been so I began to think that over.  I started parking on this side of the house, to get a feel for making that change.

I looked at the woods and the yard with renewed vision and a slightly different mindset as the weekend drew to a close.  I've watched the sunlight move across these woods this morning and it is nothing short of spectacular.  This is already a haven, and I don't wish to overthink it or overwork it, but I will care for it, manage it and maybe concentrate a little less on transforming it too much.  Nature will take the lead, the sun will lend her voice and the woods will be the stage.   I’ll be more stage manager than stage mother!   

I'm just wild about Harry.

We are going through some changes in the yard and reviewing some plans to update the exterior of the house a bit and maybe even building an addition to our living room.  As is our way, we discuss plans, talk about timing, review the plan, change the plan, talk about timing, think about space, review the plan. You get it. We procrastinate.  We are slow to pull the trigger, as the saying goes, as we don't always see eye to eye and one of us will have one of those sit-up-in-bed from a sound sleep BRILLIANT ideas which throws a final draft of a plan talked about for weeks right out the window. We've gotten use to working this way over the years, and yes, it has delayed us from time to time.  

Currently, while the two areas of dirt I wrote about in previous posts are big topics, we have at least three other areas outside that are currently, or will be soon, undergoing some changes.   I've spent a fair amount of time over the years working in some flower beds whose plantings are coming out. In order to prepare for the upcoming remodeling, I'm planning on transplanting a lot from my current beds to the other sides of the house.  I hope I am able to save a few things that I have grown to really love over the last few years but I know there are a few that will be lost.  

One of these is a curly branched bush called Harry Lauder Walking Stick, with a biological name of something-something Contortia, or something.  I love this plant.  It is far too big for its current space and will likely not survive a transplanting. At least, not by someone who is as willy-nilly with the transplanting rules as I am, but I have to try. I may not be able manage this bush alone, not like I will be able to do with a couple azaleas and many hosta that are marked for moving.  

The main reason why I love this plant is because my mother-in-law had one.   It's still at the house and in a spot she once told me was the best place for it, protected, a bit off a path and out of the wind. She reported it was a difficult bush to get started.  I love the gnarly, curling branches, named for a vaudeville comedian who was known for his twisted walking stick. As soon as I got the opportunity, and the money, at least twenty years ago, I bought a small bush and planted it in a new flower bed.  I knew nothing about bushes, landscaping or what would grow. I only knew I wanted a Harry Lauder Walking Stick.  

I planted it too close to the house, of course, too close to the deck, too exposed to the elements.  It wasn't suppose to grow in that location, but it flourishes.  My mother-in-law and I discussed how it shouldn't be doing as well, I believe it has outgrown hers, and who knows why.  If it were two feet further out or to the left or right, it probably would not have grown like it has, but it loves that spot.  

That spot will be turned over for another use and Harry will go with it.  I'm reluctant, to say the least,  and although I will try to move it I have this feeling wherever I try will not be quite right.  I do have a place in mind and will undertake the move in the spring.  Now, hubs is practical here and says no worries, if it doesn't make it, we'll buy another and start new. 

It's not the same though.  I was young when I bought that plant and wanted to prove to my mother-in-law that I was worthy of the property, of the home that had been the home of her mother, that I could plant and tend, cultivate and grow.  My mother-in-law was impressed with my Harry and told me so.  To let him go is a big deal, a big decision and I'll spend a bit of time thinking it all through.   

Preparing for the next phase.

While I have been working on the beast, hubs has been working in another part of our yard on the other side of the house.   What’s left, for or by us both, is two big areas of dirt.  Deciding on what to do in the dirt is my new occupation and distraction.   Hubs looks at me like I’ve grown a tree stump of my own, right on top of my head, when I even mention replanting something, even grass…okay, and maybe some flowers.  And a bush.

      

I get it. It’s backbreaking to remove old, overgrown bushes and trees, their stumps and roots.  I get it.  However, I also get that we can’t just have two big patches of dirt in the yard, waiting for something, most likely undesirable, to fill it in.   That doesn't seem wise, because it will fill in, oh yes, it will fill in.

I also get that it’s not that easy as we are blessed with shade from big oak trees.  Beautiful and stately, although maybe too close to the house, and its tough to grow things.  We are also cursed with maple trees, soft maples with big fat branches that the trunk can’t seem to support, which drop those same limbs, dangerous and carefree.  Trees that have those funny little twirling helicopter seed pods that seem to grow wherever they land.  Problem: maple trees are like weeds, like parasites, and choke out every other living thing there, except maybe poison ivy.

 

I challenged hubs to a contest of sorts last week.  I bet, I said, we could pull out maple trees, at least 10, every day for a month and still have maple saplings and small trees to spare.  He didn't agree. That’s 300 trees! Now, I haven’t gone into the woods every day this week to pull out trees but the evening of this challenge I went into the woods and easily pulled up 25 maple saplings, all under 2 feet tall, from about a 10-foot square area.  Until they are about 30 inches or so tall, maple saplings can be pretty easily removed, thank goodness.Bunched up in two hands and headed for the burning pile, I shook them at hubs as I walked by, victorious and gloating, like pom poms.  Go, me!    

While bending over and yanking out these little maple trees, which I have to admit is hard on the heart, they are baby trees for crying out loud, even if they are weed-like, and it’s against my nature but has to be done, I began to compare clearing out these areas like life, like my life.  Change is afoot, and I am preparing for the next phase.  Careful planning is needed, thoughtfulness, decisiveness and even protection, because it will fill in, oh yes, it will fill in.   

The battle continues.

I didn’t write a post last week as I had missed Sunday and Monday for the holiday.  By Tuesday I was well beyond thinking about blog posts but I wanted to catch you up on one of my projects ~ the removal of the gigantic rhododendron. 

This bush, which, as you may recall, housed many a bird, bunny and cat over the years had just gotten way, way too big.  It is in a part of the yard that isn’t used much, sure, but it had been taking over that part for too long and now spanned about 25-feet across, and maybe 12-feet high.   When we were working on cleaning up the tree that fell in the storm I wanted to see how difficult it would be to snip off a branch ~ I was able to walk right into this bush, standing up and just moving branches away as I moved to the center.  That’s crazy.  We’ve talked about taking it out for the last couple of years but it wasn’t a priority.  This year was the show close, however, and after the tree fell, which changed the light and the feel of the driveway, this was the time for the boot for the rhododendron.

Last week I began cutting back the branches, working my way around and around.  Almost like I was trimming the monster instead of trying to get closer to its center root system, I snipped and pulled, snipped and pulled, taking away wheelbarrow load after load, I  snipped off branches, bigger and bigger, around and around.  I committed to working every day for at least an hour, even if it were rainy, and soon I was left with shoots, some runners, circling the big “core” of the plant. (Yes, this is about the time I had to enlist the services of my trusted assistant, hubs, to manage the big, fat, well-rooted branches) Big, branches, more than I could handle with the loppers, stood solid, taller than I and ready to remain steadfast.  The undergrowth that remained, a LOT of the runners, had been freed and feeling sunshine for the first time, the leaves turned bright and healthy, not knowing the fate that lay ahead.  Oh, raise your faces to the sun now, for in another day or so, you will be but kindling for the next big bonfire.

Funny thing about this bush is there were no bird’s nests, no bunnies scurrying about, no cats or kittens.  Not one living thing. I had expected to feel some guilt, some Audobonian remorse, but there wasn’t a creature that stirred.  Even the bees that had circled the plant on my first night had dispersed.  I had been fully prepared to battle those bees, if needed, or at least, always had a clear path to get the heck out.

As I removed the runners, and there were many, children of the mother plant that would flourish if planted and cared for, I became hesitant to totally ditch this behemoth.  How long had it been here? Maybe sixty or seventy years.  Who was I to take it out?  I contemplated what to do, began thinking of the woods and the many dogwood trees that have suffered from blight or bug and have thinned to near non-existence.  I admired the ease of pulling big, healthy, rooted shoots of Mother Rhoda and decided to transplant a few, into the woods. 

I think I moved 7, but already one looks not so much inclined to root in a new spot.  I planted a couple near my bridge, and I really hope they “take”.  I’ll tend to them this fall, and keep them well watered over the next couple months.  I’ll pile oak leaves around and maybe even a fence in case the deer decide rhododendron leaves and buds are perfect for the digestion.  I’ll care for you, so you can flourish.  I’ll care for you, so you can grow, children of the monster. 

One branch at a time!

Over the weekend I began something I have been threatening to do for several years.  I began cutting out the humongous rhododendron bush outside this office window.  The one that’s been home to wild cats over the years.  It’s gotten so big that I could easily walk into it, and maybe not make it out.  Now, that doesn’t necessarily help with cutting it out ~ it’s a big project. 

So I started cutting branch after branch of this monster and laying them to the side.  This means not only do I have a monster of a flowering bush but have begun a monster pile next to it.  I didn’t really give a lot of thought to what I will be doing with the branches as they come out.  If they go on the burning pile, well, that’s on the other side of the house.  I have never driven the tractor around in the yard but I may have to learn for this one. 

The tractor is one of those “this is mine” things.  I mean, I guess I could go out there and start the old thing up and back it out of the barn but I just don’t think it would be looked upon favorably.  Now, I talk about that like we are on 100 acres of prime farm land..back out of the barn indeed.  Most of you know that is not true and I’m talking John Deere lawn tractor here.  But, there is the backing up thing, never one of my strongest driving skills, and besides the cart is not attached so I would also have to figure that out.  Not going to happen. 

What will happen instead is, even though he wasn’t ready for this project quite yet, hubs will have to hook up the cart to the tractor and haul my branches around for me.  Thrilled he was when he came up from a short boat ride and saw I had started the hacking of the branches.  As we stood looking at the bush following my 30 minutes or so of hacking, and barely a dent made in this thing, I saw bees swarming everywhere.  How I didn’t get stung is beyond me but it became obvious the bees were coming home for the evening and my branch cutting was over for the day.  And, I was hot. Thirty minutes of work is good for one day, right?   

I am headed out there again in a short while to invest an hour of my day in branch cutting.  I guess I'll drag some branches down to the burning pile in the little wheelbarrow.  I hope the bees are out on their dailies! 

Hi dee ho, neighbor.

My 92 year-old mother-in-law passed away recently and sending her off has been an emotional time for sure, but, the last few months have also brought this very close-knit family even closer. Her five children have done an amazing job of coming together, expressing their goals and taking steps to bring her estate to a close. Ready to move forward, each of the kids has walked through her home and selected items that were meaningful to them, or simply could use, and on more than one occasion, shared a story or two and tons of laughter, tears rolling down their cheeks.

The next generation has been coming in and selecting a few things as well. It's been equally fun with them, as they walk through the house and pick up items, turning them over and over in their hands as they remember their grandparents. From plastic glasses in the kitchen to beautiful cut glass vases and pitchers stored in cabinets to treasured antiques and oddities, it's been fun to see what attracts the eye of these young people, and to listen, listen, listen to their stories, their memories.     

I was lucky to have lived next door to this remarkable, kind lady for all but one of my married years. She was, as was my father-in-law, who has been gone ten years, a great neighbor. She shared our joys, she was supportive when we had sadness.  She taught me how to be a good neighbor, I hope, to someone new next door.

I may not bake pies or keep my flowers as weeded, the birds well-fed as I should, but I know how to be a neighbor! I had a really good teacher!

Five more, just five more minutes.

Last week I waited to hear how my little granddaughter liked her kindergarten experience.  Her first day brought back memories of her mother at age 5, of waiting for the bus on her first day and being so very excited, and me, so reluctant to let her go.  I know this little girl will bloom in school, she is smart and confident, like her mom.  She was not nervous, just excited, and walked in to the school from her mom’s car, one glance over her shoulder, approached by the principal and invited to walk in with her out of the line-up of other kindergarteners.  Holding hands with the principal, our girl marched in to her school career.  Not a bad start.

We know, of course, that school changes everything.  Now we have to be more deliberate about visits, weekends, vacations and holidays.  We lose some of the freedom we had to “face-time” before bedtime as bedtime comes earlier, without the carefree “five-more minutes”.  Now it will be “not on a school night” and waiting, waiting for spring break, or fall break, or the seems-like-light-years-away, summer vacation.

Yes, things are changing, and it’s difficult to let some things go, but, oh, the places she will go, the lessons, the learning, the fun of being in school.  Special thoughts today for all the adults who will cross paths with my little granddaughter ~ she is kind, she is joyful and she is confident, a great foundation on which much can be built.  I envy the hours you will get with her as I wait for just five more minutes. waitwawawait for just five more minutes  as  grrgrowngrooldHold

Lucky.

I am, without a doubt, lucky in love as they say and have a fantastic husband.  I’ve known this for years, beginning with when we were first married and he insisted on doing all his own laundry.  At that time he was the manager of a men’s clothing store, one of several fashionable stores in a small chain.  He was very particular about his clothing, the care instructions…all of it.  I did not have a problem with his wishes, asked that he leave my clothes alone, but to have at all the towels and sheets he cared to tackle. 

Now, to add to our backstory ~ after hubs and I were married for, oh, about 30 years, he revealed his mom and dad always said he was a klutz, didn't like it when he used tools or had a project as they said he was an accident waiting to happen.  Over the years, I’ve been hit with boards, stepped on, elbowed - hard - bonked on the head, accidentally punched. bruised…that’s just me.  I couldn’t even begin to tell you what he has managed to do to HIMSELF over the years.   I had often thought to myself “Man, he is accident prone…” but to hear him say that his mom and dad thought so as well?  What else did he keep from me?

So to tie these two things together, one day last weekend hubs came up to me and asked where I had bought a small light bulb, which he held in his hand,  for one of our decorative lamps.  He was hanging this lamp, you see, and bobbled it around and broke the filament in the new light bulb.  Easy? Common? No, but, I've gotten use to this kind of stuff.  And, while he did not break the lamp, thankfully, or this would be a whole different post,  I should know not to buy just one of something that is part of a project. After giving him the location, he nodded and walked away. 

A few days later, I was emptying the dryer of his laundry ~ the drawback, he often does not quite get ALL the steps to “doing a load of laundry” completed.  I was in a great hurry, annoyed, as I had company coming for the weekend and sheets and towels to wash and didn’t really have time to pull out this load of laundry. But, again, I know how lucky I am that he does his laundry, leaves mine alone and is always ready to help switch out the bedding or throw a load of towels in. 

I felt a little jab, a paper cut type sting, as I pulled his load of clothes out of the dryer.  What the heck? A little dab of blood.  The tinkling of glass.  Huh? The tinkling of glass?  That scratchy sound as something brushes the inside of the dryer as the clothes are moved around.  Now,  I have a stacking washer and dryer and it’s tough to see into the bottom of the dryer but on my toes and yes, there are shards of fine glass in the dryer, all along the filter, in the bottom and now, sparkling on the floor.   What is this?  Carefully sorting through the clothes…there it is, the screw in portion of the light bulb in his cargo shorts pocket. Luckily, my cut was superficial and his clothes all survived being tumbled around with broken glass. 

Who puts a light bulb in their pocket? 

I love a parade! (Oh my gosh I've got to stop making all these plans!)

The most dangerous spot for me this past weekend was putting on some blue surgical booties and making my way through the Parade of Homes in Michigan, accompanying hubs on some business related visits.  You know, we wanted to see the homes but it is still a business visit, and we have so much to do around the house that it was difficult to make the commitment to go. I really enjoy these visits though as I usually see some great floor plan or new gadget or appliance, some landscaping or paint color.  

Anyway, the first home was a remodel of a home along the St. Joseph river.  Oh my goodness, the lot, the view, the stunning kitchen.  It was gorgeous.  Very uncluttered and minimally decorated but beautifully so with some nice arts and crafts pieces sprinkled throughout.  What a treat to visit this great spot.  

Another home or two which were equally as nice, new construction,  and then onto another remodel.  Oh dear.  This one had some seriously great upgrades to a home in a well- established neighborhood.  The standout for me here was the entry as on the way up to the parade, hubs and I were discussing entry remodeling and I expressed some ideas that have been rolling around in my head.  Nothing major but to improve our entry, just talk.  Nothing major until I saw this home but now my wheels are really turning.

A couple more homes and our final stop at a very contemporary, almost Scandinavian style home near Lake Michigan. This was a stunner, and so unlike our home and what I thought to be “my taste”.  I could live there for sure.  They had to take down several ash trees on the property because of the dreaded ash bore but they were able to salvage a LOT of the wood and made the stair treads and wood flooring from massive trees that had to be cut down.   Gorgeous. 

A stop at my favorite brewery for a sandwich before heading home, and a bit of my hobby~ conversation with strangers.  Talked to two men who were in Michigan, one from San Francisco and one from Seattle, to attend a weeklong family retreat ~ about their 30^th  summer.  They had been sent to the store for supplies for dinner and were stopping in to have a beer on their way.  They were the sons-in-law of the hosts of the reunion, and in trouble, they knew it and didn’t care…like 16 year olds who had been given the keys to the car and sent out on an errand.  Until one stood up and said to his brother-in-law,  “I’m going to go to the store, but, I’ll be back and here are my sunglasses and cell phone so you can be sure.”  One of the funniest things I’ve seen a grown man do, but sort of charming, too. 

It was a nice ending to a busy weekend and now, do I hate my house? My yard? My trees? No, but boy oh boy do I have some ideas.  Now, where’s that graph paper?

Too soon?

I am sure everyone gets here…this place where you sense things are going to be much different moving forward, and try to prepare for it.  Try to think about it a bit, try, maybe, to hang on to some of the past but also plan for the new.

  

I have been thinking about Christmas.  My mother-in-law passed away earlier this year and although we stopped going over for a big gift exchange a couple years back, we did try to do a Christmas-time brunch with everyone.   She could not really participate the way she used to, cranking out a batch of coffee cakes, rolls and breakfast casseroles for us all, but her daughter sure did her proud and produced some great breakfasts for us the last couple years.  We have gathered at this big kitchen for many years a couple weeks before Christmas to bake cookies together.  Have we seen the last cookie?

What do we do now?  I know it’s time to start new traditions, but what are those traditions? I am used to the old ones! I like the old ones!  I am not sure where I am suppose to go, or if I am to stay home.  A couple years ago we did stay home, alone, on Christmas Day, and let me tell you, it sucked.  I told hubs that would not happen again, as long as I could be somewhere, especially if a grandchild was involved.  We’ve had a couple of perilous drives since then but have been with kids/grandkids on Christmas Day, usually arriving mid-morning and staying a day or two.

 

I wondered about the every other year thing but both my girls wish to stay home on Christmas morning with their families.  This year, youngest daughter will be WAY pregnant on Christmas Day, so she should be home! Besides that, son and daughter-in-law, in a different city, also need to make plans with her family so I need to be considerate of that as well.

Is it too selfish, too decadent, to escape to a tropical location on Christmas? It’s on the list. 

Ethel Merman

It's alright if you think I'm going down a short but twisted path here...I have to recommend battery operated candles.  I can not believe I am saying it either!

I, on a whim, ordered a set of battery operated pillars from QVC.  Again, I can't believe it either!  I thought they would work out well in a couple places where a night light would be good but I just don't care for night lights much.  Weird, I know. 

So I ordered this set of 8 candles of varying sizes by a company called "Candle Impressions" which is funny.  I mean, they are selling items that impersonate a candle...that's clever, admit it.  Besides that, here is what is so cool about these fake candles as compared to other fake candles that I have seen. 

First of all, they are a good fake.  Enough said.

Second, they have a built in TIMER!

I think this is genious.  I have seen them with remotes but I think they are more expensive; these timers...awesome.  They will stay on for five hours.  Which is just about perfect when you think about it.  You turn them on the first time when you want them to come on every night, then they come on the next night at the same time.  Isn't that grand?

So, you know I recommended the set of three green strainers.  You know I recommended the red spatula and most recently I raved about the big yellow bowl.  You can trust me.   I can not recommend the turquoise set ~ that just makes no sense for anyone.  When it comes to fake candles, I think simple and ivory is best. 

Here I grouped three of them behind this fun metal piece on top of a china cabinet.  They're like 3, 4 and 5 inches tall maybe, use two AA batteries and have been lighting up dark spaces at my place since July 5. 

I do a couple impressions, Ethel Merman for example, and maybe one or two of people in my past...er, probably best not to talk about it.   Not always flattering and some that have gotten me in trouble.  But, these Candle Impressions? Dead on.

Something new this way comes.

My little lakeside home is also a little woods home.  A lot of trees.  Over the years, we’ve had one fall or at least a big branch come down and it’s always a mess but sometimes, like the one that fell last week, it brings something else along.

There was a dead tree on the far side of our driveway that fell during the last “and why wasn’t THAT a tornado” storm.  It was dead and probably should have been taken down a couple years ago, but, removing trees is a costly endeavor.  We’d be at it all day and all pocketbook if we took down trees that “really should have”.  A lot of living here is cross your fingers and hope nature is kind. 

Anyway, the tree came down in the storm and on the way took a couple of good-sized leafy branches from other trees, perhaps a small tree or two.  Hubs and I spent the better part of two days - so far - cleaning up the mess.

As we worked it became pretty obvious there was going to be a difference in the way things looked, especially in the driveway.   First, it was a lot of low growth that was taken out but also leafy growth.  There were two trees we took down immediately, both dead and not contributing. Secondly, we surveyed the area and trimmed a few branches.  The driveway is now sunny where it had never been sunny.  Interesting.  

We worked for several hours and went for a boat ride.  When we were back at the house I walked through to get something started in laundry.  On my way through the house  there was a new shaft of light on the floor, coming in from this office window.  It hit a few things out in the foyer area that usually don’t get hit by light. Reflections and shadows were just slightly different.  

I guess it is good to clear out some old to get a new perspective, eh? 

Welcome!

For the last couple of summers, when taking a nice, relaxing cruise around the lake, I noticed a house that had placed several big pots of bright yellow flowers near the shore on their property.  I really liked them.  I liked that the people wanted to share these flowers with boaters that went by.  Thought it was welcoming, you know? Not only to their property but to the lake, to the day. 

I wanted to do the same and bought four, what appeared in the store, BIG pots, in red.  I wasn’t sure how hubs felt about this plan as it meant his needing to move to mow and I know he hates that.  I was excited to plant them, to share them…but what kind of flowers?  These pots were going to be in bright sunshine and I’m more used to shade closer to the house ~ hosta and impatients.  Should I go with  geraniums?  Possibly,  but I sure liked those bright yellow flowers on the other side of the lake.  Because I had heard they needed minimal care I decided on marigolds.  Now, I have to tell you, I am not a marigold fan.  To me they are a bit boring, smell funny and generally don’t appeal to me.   I kept going back to the minimal care thing, and the bright yellow, and marigolds it is. I did opt for the variety of color and have orange and rusty maroon as well as the yellow.  

So I planted my four gigantic pots.  They looked great.  I thought they would fill in nicely and I had included a spikey grass thing in the middle of each one.  I liked them a lot.

However, the pots were not as big as they appeared in the store.  When I got them down to the lakefront and lined them all up they were actually kind of puny.  I was pretty disappointed, but kept it to myself.  After about a week, hubs says to me “Those pots are too small; you need to get something else.”  Well, at least I had my answer as to how he felt about them!

The next day I bought four REALLY huge pots and was able to just set the four smaller pots down inside, with a little beefing up at the bottom.  Once the flowers filled in, I was pretty sure this would make the impression I hoped, and I was pleased!  Those marigolds are great little flowers and I'm becoming a fan! 

I overbought on marigolds, probably because of my too small pots, but I had a place for those in a flower bed that had housed a couple rose bushes a dogwood tree, also in the sun.   

My concern was visitors running in to the pots at night, while down at a bonfire or something.  I thought about those solar path lights and purchased four really cute globe solar lights to put in each pot.  Then at night, there would be just a little glow to remind people the pots are  there.  Perfect. 

The solar lights turned out to be flickering - no, strobing - red, green and blue carnival like things.  My sister-in-law looked out the first night they were in and thought a SWAT team had landed on shore or something.  These things are obnoxious, let me tell you.  Nothing indicated they were flickering, or multicolored, and as much as I like the brightness of the flowers there is nothing about me that says flickering carnival lights.  But, I liked the round globe, sunken in the pots and I have accepted their presence.  

I can’t imagine what the fishermen think.  You know what else? Those pots could still be bigger.  

Vacation get-away

It all began about a month ago when I ate my way through the beach city of Destin, Florida and continued on through a family reunion, a few late, late night meals, 4^th of July and then culminated with a seafood boil for family which was too much to be believed it was so good.  My goodness, I am stuffed.

I have had the greatest six weeks or so filled with fun, friends, family, food.  But, staying up way too late, eating way too late, not sleeping enough or drinking enough water…it’s taking a toll.  I need a vacation from my vacation. 

I am not one to just pick a city and travel to it but I have to say, I am considering checking in to a hotel for just one night, enjoying some juice and toast, taking a stroll through an antique store or two and heading home after a light lunch.  Doesn’t that sound kind of divine and decadent?  I mean, it’s silly right?  We just got back from a beautiful, beach filled, doused in sunshine trip.   

Don’t care.  I’m doin’ it! 

   

Sometimes we are so overwhelmed with sad news that it is a struggle to find some good news, you know? We almost brush good news aside because we sit on pins and needles waiting for the “other shoe to drop”.  Sometimes news is really good but may not be phenomenal, and we are almost blasé about it.  You shouldn't have to stand on your head to hear a compliment. 

This week, I have heard a few good stories, particularly about “kids” I have been close with through volunteering…a new house, babies on the way, new jobs, an anniversary, elected officials and so much more ~ many volunteering in their communities or working in jobs where kids are a priority.  I’m really excited to hear this news, guys! I know I may not always say it as strongly as it is felt, but I am so proud  you and what you are accomplishing, the grownups you have become!  Stay involved and inspire the rest of us to get more involved along the way.

We are often so quick to shake our heads when we hear something not so positive, and that’s fine.  Sometimes it is head-shaking worthy, but I am making a promise to be quick to nod my head, to give a shout, to pat you on the back.  I promise you, I will become better at it!

Way to go!  

Sun comes up.

After I had given my notice at the art center, a coworker and I were having a conversation over lunch.  She said something about “early retirement” and I said something along the lines of “someone is retiring?”.   She meant me.  After mumbling about and stating that I had never said the term “early retirement”, she said “Cindi, I don’t think it’s a bad thing”. 

It isn’t.  It’s just that I hadn’t thought about it that way.  I just thought of it as no longer working there.  I am not old enough for social security, and well, I just hadn’t thought of it as retirement. 

Now, six weeks or so down the road, I still don’t think of myself as retired but I am closer.  I walked around the yard this morning,  early for me, and thought of my dad, who enjoyed his yard so much.  Hubs mowed last night and the yard was just gorgeous at daybreak.  I spooked a heron and watched it fly over the lake and appreciated the graceful lines and the “squawk”.  I thought of my friend Kathy who gets bluebirds at her rural home while I get heron here at the lake, and how we each get excited to see them, every time.   

I don’t think I will turn in to one of those avid gardeners who worry over their rose bushes or tomato plants but I did pause a while over my two scraggly rose bushes and four tomato plants as I squished through the rain and dew soaked yard.  Yeah, this is a pretty good way to start the day, I thought to myself.  I could get into it.  I tilted my head toward the sun, just starting to come up and breathed in a new day.  This is good.

This is really good.  

Vacation!

You may have noticed my absence the last few days.  My family and I were on vacation.  I considered, for only a moment, taking the ol’ laptop and posting something from our vacation home in Destin, Florida but changed my mind…which was good because I learned we didn’t have wireless access anyway! 

 

We were short a family member or two, which made the trip less than 100% perfect but it was so darn close otherwise.  Destin is a good spot although it has become so over-developed I am not sure we will stay there again.  Or maybe we will but make another choice as to our location.  At any rate, the weather was perfect, the house was great, the grandchildren were incredibly well-behaved and I was, and am, one happy lady.

 

Now that I have returned from vacation, it’s time to talk about the Tupperware Fix n’ Mix bowl.  Do you know this bowl? Giant…many of us have it in yellow? I can not find my yellow bowl ANYWHERE although I am sure it is in this house.  Only sure because why would I get rid of the most perfect bowl in the world? Besides, the lid is here so it must be here.  But, after about five years of asking all the kids and hubs if they've seen it and missing it on more than one occasion for a big ol’ mess of taco salad, I bought a new one.  I ordered it online and it was waiting for me when I returned this week.  Here’s the thing about this big bowl – it’s not always available.  In fact, last summer I came so close to buying it when it was released for a limited time in an awesome purple color.  I did not, however, as I knew darn good and well that yellow bowl is here somewhere.  Anyway, I checked again off and on over the last several months and the bowl finally returned in turquoise.

 

I am beyond when it comes to this new bowl.  It’s too big for my cabinets but I don’t care as I like it that much.  I’ll find a place for it and when I do, I have a feeling I will also find the yellow one. 

We know that I am attempting to eat better and to exercise a bit; I’m working on some insomnia issues and have increased my interest in my yardwork, both for relaxation and to get some things accomplished that I have put off.  

The final step I took in “correcting” my lifestyle was to leave my full time job.  This was a tough decision as I really enjoyed my job.  I like the people, I like the work…I like what the art center is doing in the community.  However, it added a certain amount of stress in my life that I didn’t feel I needed.  So, after considering it for several months, I decided no time like the present, and left.  Now, you may remember that I do some remote work from home and have since 2007.  I still do that work so it’s not as if I have checked out, everyone.  I am a productive individual and have increased my remote work hours since leaving my outside job. 

Anyway, leaving the job was largely to afford me more time to do the things I wanted to do…spend time with my grandchildren, spend time with some gardening, spend time at home and trying to keep this little house managed.  It has been about a month and I’m still not as organized as I would like to be but it’s getting there.  There are still many, many weeds to pull and object d’ art to dust.  I haven’t caught up totally on laundry and routine housework but I have sent three bags of clothing and miscellaneous to charity, so the closet is looking better.  I have two or three lists of things to accomplish this year, inside and out, so I am not anticipating much “down time”.

I have posted in the past about my father having been a bridge builder.  One of my projects for the spring was a footbridge on my walking path.  I found a plan, whined a bit to hubs to bring home the materials and with the help of my two sons-in-law and daughters and my fabulous granddaughter, I have a small bridge on the walking path.  It's just a wooded curve as it doesn’t span water or anything, but it’s exactly what I wanted.  Now, the walking path goes nowhere right now but with a bit of landscaping and some other plans, it will be a destination.  I also need to figure out a railing for the bridge and have a few ideas rolling about in my head ~ none of which hubs wants to discuss.

I needed a bridge.  I love this bridge.  I like how it elevates you to a new perspective and gives you a different outlook, a different view.  It’s slight, but it’s mighty.  Here’s the beginning of my bridge ~ railing, and destination,  to come soon.