A gift giving guide for the terrible gifter

Dear Wives / Girlfriends / Partners;

Share this with the person who keeps asking you what you want this year and just ends up buying you a new scarf!

   **********

Hey.  I love you.  And you're a terrible gift giver.  Because I know you care and want to buy the perfect thing for this holiday / birthday / anniversary as a token of your love, I thought I would help you out a little.

No, I’m not going to BUY MY OWN GIFTS.

Here are a few questions for you to answer before you go shopping an hour before stores close on Christmas / birthday / anniversary Eve:

What would make my life easier? There is something I complain about ALL the time. True, there are MANY things I complain about. So go now to your dark place and think of those things…. Those nagging, constant, irritating things. And then fix it, buy it, get rid of it! Whatever complaints I have made over the past few months - Take care of it for me! Broken dish washer? Fix it! No dish washer? BINGO.  Not enough spoons/mugs/dish towels? Buy me a dozen! Always tripping over your shoes? Get rid of them! And by that I mean buy something to take care of the shoes-all-over-the-living-room problem.  Yes.  A shoe organizer. You’re catching on quick! What am I always looking for? My keys? Make a duplicate set.  My cell phone charger? Get me three: work,  car, and  home!

What would make me feel adored?  Something extra. Something I don’t need. Something that I often use/wear/want. You’ve seen me put on a necklace every day before work. Buy me a new one! You’ve seen me work endless hours on my hobby … get me better tools, a fancy thing-a-ma-jig, and a do-hickey to compliment my efforts. (Please … please tell me you know what my hobby is!? If not go look on my pinterest account, eh? It should be loud and clear.) Basically, what do I do every single day to make myself feel pretty, feel sane, or just feel like a human? Buy me more.

Who (or what!) else can do my chores? If I spend all my free time keeping the house clean please buy me a maid! Once a month for the entire year someone to come into our home and spend 2-3 hours cleaning, organizing, SOMETHING! Dear God, give me a BREAK! (Or see "dishwasher" in part 1.)

What would make me speechless? Go ahead. You know you want me to shut up for a minute! Buy me something that would blow me away. A real dream come true! So far out there that it’s virtually unrealistic; A vacation. A car. A weekend away. Yes. That’s it! A weekend away. No guilt. No strings. And by all means NO CHILDREN. And if I’m being honest … no YOU either. Let me relax. Let me manage my own 48 hours. However I want. With my current responsibilities THAT would be an absolutely unrealistic and unexpected dream come true!

MAKE IT HAPPEN.

Sincerely,
The Happiest Woman on Christmas Morning

PS. Don't ASK me if I want _____ for Christmas. Just surprise me! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW AHEAD OF TIME!

Sophisticated No-Bakes

I found this amazing No Bake oatmeal bar recipe just before Thanksgiving and my brain adapted it for me before I pulled a single ingredient from the shelf.  Fun how our brains do that.  ;) (Yeah.  I read the recipe wrong from the start. But what I ended up with was just as amazing and I personally feel like royalty when I eat them.)  So. ..

Here's my adapted recipe. I like to call them SOPHISTICATED NO-BAKES.

GATHER
Square baking dish
Parchment paper
2 sauce pans
Measuring cups
Something to stir with
Rubber Spatula

Ingredients
1 cup salted butter

1/3 cup light brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla

3 cups quick-oats

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

3/4 cup chunky peanut butter

1/2 cup dried cranberries

1/2 cup white chocolate chips

Let the magic begin!
Line square baking pan with wax or parchment paper, set aside.

Melt butter on medium heat in large sauce pan.

Stir in brown sugar and vanilla.

Stir in oats.

Turn heat to low and cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Then take 1/2 of oat mixture and press into bottom of lined baking dish.

In a different saucepan, melt chocolate chips and peanut butter , stirring frequently.

Once fully melted, pour onto oatmeal layer. Gently spread evenly.

Carefully top with remaining oat mixture, then add white chocolate chips and cranberries.  Gently press it all down.

You could save about a 1 tbsp of chocolate mix to drizzle on top, or you could just eat it to celebrate your Sophisticated No-Bake success!

Put the pan in the fridge for about 3 hrs or until someone finds out you made them.  ;)

Slice in small squares, hide a few for later, and serve to your friends and family this holiday!

Enjoy!

Turn off the tv and DO something

A note to myself for 2013 (and beyond!): 

Chores and Rewards

It's time for updated systems around here. What was once considered major accomplishments (brushing your teeth) has now become expected and normal. No more special attention for such mundane tasks. Our baby is now 5 years old and while chores have been a regular part of our lives I now see the need to "up the ante".

I learned from my sister-in-law, Paige, and a wise woman of 9 children, Darlene, about the "five finger chores". We've doing those for about a month now and it has helped us reign in my daughter's desire to instantly jump on the computer or turn on the tv in the morning. First she needs to finish her "first fives".

Here's what our (well used!) Five Finger Chore Chart looks like:

1. Turn off your "water sounds" (white noise machine)
2. Turn off your radio
3. Get dressed
4. Drink water
5. Put your laundry in the basket

Humbly drawn at the bottom is a picture of the computer. She can watch a show when she finishes all five. It's perfection.

But I also learned from my years observing Darlene that a great chore system may last a short while before it loses it's appeal. She seemed to have a good handle on when to revamp!

Pockets, Popsicle sticks, stickers, money, threats .... whatever your system, I'm curious what you do; What you've tried; How you've succeeded and how you've failed. Do tell!

Here's my newest plan to use in conjunction with the Five Finger Chart. Feel free to use, share, or delete!

REGULAR CHORES/TASKS

(Compiled with input from the 5 year old)

Take a bath

Get dressed

Clean your room

Clean up after your meals

Put away your books

Put away your toys

Take care of your laundry

Rest time

EXTRA CHORES FOR REWARDS

Clean kitchen surfaces (floor, or cabinet doors, or garbage can)

Organize the clean laundry into piles (child, adult, towels, etc)

Put away all the clean dishes

Vacuum the living room

Vacuum your room

Sweep/rake leaves

Match plastic lids with their containers

Bring in 4 bags of groceries

Each extra chore completed gets a sticker.

When you have three stickers you get a treat.

If you save two treats you can trade them in for a toy at the dollar store.

Sticker	Sticker	Sticker	Treat
Sticker	Sticker	Sticker	Treat

Where my peeps at?

I just want to raise my hand and say "Here!" when the Broken Hearts club meets. I just want to say I'm here.

What does it mean when no one reaches out? What does it mean when my outstretched hand is picked clean and there is no balm to cover the wounds? I don't want to feed the birds. I want to feed friends.

Am I searching for something that doesn't exist? Am I crying about the loss of something that was never meant to be?

You can't force the community to include you. Or can you? Is that how people succeed? They claim their place and stand firmly on confident ground? I don't think I have that kind of resolve. The wounded don't typically feel confident about where they stand. I certainly don't feel confident about anything right now.

Perhaps this is a season. Endure. Get through. Hope.

My club meets every other Tuesday. I'll see you there.

Lucky Charms and Johnny Cash

Is it presumptuous to think that if Jesus were here, today, he might eat Lucky Charms and listen to Johnny Cash with you?

I'd like to think that God is chill. That He'd give you permission to relax.

Most of my upbringing I spent Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights listening to sermons about how we need to DO, GIVE, BE more. How we are called to be warriors. Even now, songs on the Christian charts blare about being courageous, stepping up to be better men. Better women. Yet there are just as many sermons that tell you to LET GO AND LET GOD.

As a teenager this call to action was heavy in my heart - DO MORE. BE MORE. GIVE MORE. Even in the simple acts of worship - I wanted to know how high to raise my hands, how low to bend my knee ... how much was I to give? I wanted to see the figures, formulas, and rules. It's easy to follow rules. But letting go? "Letting God"?

"Letting Go" is not part of my nature. I spend a lot of time wound up like a spool of thread.

"Take a deep breath", I remind myself. While He's in the business of "more" ... He's also in the business of "just as you are." Either way, there is room for you. Eating Lucky Charms and listening to Johnny Cash.

Perfection isn't part of this journey.

Thoughts swirl with relentless reminders that I am not perfect.  Simple tasks, jumbled, become costly mistakes. I am unfocused and scattered. Appointments made for the wrong day. Miscommunicating. Forgetful. Interrupted. Unfinished.

Last night after a day, full, I grumbled my exhaustion to the one who chooses to love me and my mistakes; 9 hours of work, 3 hours for a hair appointment, dinner at the diner, getting home just in time to watch Survivor. I have talked non stop since dawn and I have nothing more to give. I grumble more to the child I've only seen for 20 minutes. It's bedtime. She refuses to brush teeth and I respond in anger. I'm tired and angry.

He said, "You're tired, but isn't it because you are living your dream?"

Oh.

Yes.

He is right.

Thank you, dear husband, for not letting me dive any deeper into my mistakes!

With different perspective, exhaustion is beautiful. Something to feel and be happy for the feeling.

Tired and happy!

So then, could the pain of my mistakes also be something beautiful? Embarrassed, guilty, and apologetic - even those feelings might be welcome. I feel. I feel these things. And there is beauty in the emotion. In the consequences. I learn. I move forward.

They don't tell you this - but making mistakes is part of the curriculum. You can't "live the dream" without them. You don't get through a day, a week, a month, without error. Without misplaced anger. Without exhaustion. You just don't.

And living with it, moving through it, is part of this dream I am after. It's part of it! I can't separate it! Ignoring it like it might go away and eventually stop happening!? It will never stop happening. I lie to myself if I think that.

So this is my assignment. To feel my exhaustion! Feel my embarrassment! And be happy!

April Fool's Day Pranks

Oh what joy this day brings.

Just thinking about pranks thrills me to tears!

I decided to make up a tasty treat for my family along with a few other low-key pranks.

Enjoy!

April Fool's Day Chocolate Chip Cookies:

She wasn't very happy with me when I told her what they were ... she was too keen on these - knew something wasn't quite right and never actually tried one.

Did you figure it out? 

These are baked taters and black beans!!!

Simply delicious if you're expecting garlic, salt, sour cream, and potatoes! 

Here's how:

1. Whip up your favorite mashed potato recipe (I used 3 medium potatoes)

2. Mix in a few drops of yellow food coloring (3 drops was enough for this batch)

3. Stir in 1/2 can rinsed black beans

4. Then drop on a cookie sheet in a 350* oven for 30-45 minutes ... until golden on the top.

These will taste delicious with a little salsa at dinner time! 

By the way: I did make REAL cookies so as not to completely disappoint the family! ;)

For all you Pinterest Fools ..... happy pinning!

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Not only did I prank today, but we also dyed  few things: 

Julia's Bunny checking out the eggs:

After the eggs were done I hated to waste all that beautiful color - so we dyed rice. Not sure what we'll do with this, but it feels right to have festive rice laying around.

I hope you fully enjoy April 1st - no matter what you get into!

One more thing .... 

if you have any leftover color disks/pellets from the Easter egg kit ... pop one into your kitchen faucet. Makes for a fantastic blast of color when the next person turns on the water!

Thoughts about my thoughts

Random Things of Little Interest.

1. My husband is on Pinterest. (Thought I'd start with a rhyme. And although Pinterest is generally considered a "female" thing ... I think it's cool that he's "pinning".)

2. I want to say things people shouldn't say. I want to be rude. Loud. Obnoxious. (Is this why people drink?)

3. I also want to live in peace. I want to be quiet. Harmonious. Respectful. (I think I should just go back to bed.)

4. Food coloring doesn't actually have a flavor but the color makes my mouth think it has flavor. (It's pretty, but carrot cake just isn't the same with purple cream cheese frosting.)

5. I measure the strength of coffee by comparing it to my daughters eyes. If it's as dark as her peepers it's gooooooooood coffee. (Of course, I muck it up with cream and sugar to create a warm coffee-flavored milk shake.)

6. I've waited all week to type invoices at work. Typically I type them every day. I am procrastinating by taking pictures of myself, my lunch (carrot cake!!), and my coffee. (I probably shouldn't be telling you this.)

essential ingredients for a black bean burger?

Tonight we experiment with our first ever homemade black bean burgers.
I've found recipes as simple as this one and as complicated as this one. Somewhere in between there must be a tasty medium.

I decided to make up my own version and by no means am I suggesting this worked! :)

Rinse and drain 1 can of black beans
Saute onions, green bell peppers, mushrooms (I added a few other chopped veggies I had left over from a salad; carrots and radishes being some of them)
Add 75% of beans and 100% sauteed mixture into the food processor - pulse until combined.
Add 1 egg, 1/2 cup bread crumbs, & remaining black beans - stir all together.
Form into 4 patties - VERY sticky.
Pour small amount of olive oil in hot pan, add burgers and let cook 5-8 minutes per side.
Add slices of your favorite cheese on the first DONE side.
Grill your buns lightly on the stove.
Add tomato & lettuce, ketchup & mustard - ENJOY.


I wish there was a list of the essential ingredients necessary for it all to come together.... like ... Pick one veggie from this list, pick two from here, add an egg and bread crumbs - voila. I'll keep trying. It was good enough to experiment with in the future.

If you've never had one, don't expect it to take like a hamburger - expect it to taste like a black bean burger. (If that's not helpful advice I don't know what is!)

Here's how my version turned out:

Plenty spicy, full of flavor, a little pasty, very filling. Bake up some sweet potato fries and you've got yourself a Sunday night meal!

Spiritual Homes

Today we walked through the doors of the 4th church. Another opportunity for me to find a "home" among people who believe in the Bible and gather on a weekly basis to celebrate, cherish, confess to and console one another in this life we call sacred. Four walls, familiar music, a minister.

But I'm cynical. I'm longing for a place to call home all the while refusing to call any place home. Home insinuates rolling up my sleeves and digging into "housework". "Home" would require responsibility on my part. Playing an active roll. Even children have chores.

Can you be a guest in a place you call home? If you're never given responsibilities, never asked to take out the trash, or allowed to do the dishes ... you quickly realize that you will always be a guest. Some day they expect you to leave.

If you really want someone to "feel at home" don't you need to set an extra plate, clean out the spare  bedroom, make room in the garage? 

And so, in the churches I visit I look for a room with my name on it. I look for a place at the table. I want to know if this is someplace I can call home or if this is just a temporary stopping place.

I guess this whole life is a temporary stopping place. Which is what leads me back to why I walk in with hope but look through the glasses of a cynic. I want to find a home here. But I don't want my heart to be broken when I discover it's not.

Always More

She cries and begs, "Please don't go! Don't go to work!"
I explain in words too vague for the four year old clinging to my leg.

It's hard to leave.

She wipes away the tears and follows me to the kitchen.
Her tiny hands reach for fruit and she packs my lunch with a banana pulled from the bunch.
Strawberries spill on the floor and she finds one rolled under the cabinet.
"You need one more strawberry, Mom." It goes in the ziploc - lint and all.



They walk me outside and cover me with kisses. The crisp air grabs her arms and she runs away - back inside to the steaming oatmeal waiting on the table.

I spend my day under papers and phone calls. Constantly trying to lasso my thoughts back in - I don't want to be here.

Arriving home, I am wrapped with legs and arms. "Hug me, Mom!"
She gets right to the point. "Popcorn?"
She is hungry and knows I am too.
All the ingredients are at her fingertips and she teeters on the chair to reach for them. I turn on the burner while she carries the large pot across the room and then the oil. Finally the chair is pulled up next to me and she stands, waiting.

My baby isn't such a baby anymore. She doesn't flail her arms and cry when she wants something. She stands up, moves the chair closer, and reaches for herself.

She is wholly in charge of her life and yet not at all.
Like me, she answers to something higher than herself. My yays and nays are the joy and bane of her existence. 98% of her asking is for more.

More.
Yes, you can watch one more show. Yes, I'll read another book. No, you can't take another bath today.


She is sucking the life out of everything she encounters. And I don't mean that in the sense I usually say that. She is asking what portion is hers. She is pulling, begging, hoping that her portion is more.
More from me. More technology. More friends. More entertainment. More games. More reading. More food. More laughter. More warmth. More life.



She begs for more.
I am taking hints from her and I, too, am begging.

I want more. More time. More joy. More peace.
More out of the things I encounter.
I have lived too long ignoring the life around me or accepting what I already have. This will do.


My eyes are wide. There is more. 
I am welcoming peace in the typical moments of desperation and asking for more determination.
Order my steps. No flailing or crying. Move the chair closer and reach.

It's easy to feel the victim when you can't get what you need. When you can't reach for it yourself.
But unlike popcorn and oil and large pots - the things I am reaching for aren't located anywhere but within my own heart. A loving God has supplied all I need. (And continues to do so!)

Anger and frustration arrive when I've chosen to be angry and frustrated. Peace and joy are there for the taking just as much as the uglier counterparts. It all resides inside.

I am learning, much like a child, how to get more.
First, don't I have to believe MORE exists?
Then I must believe it is available to me. For the asking. The reaching.

I pray that as my daughter grows, she continues to reach for what she needs. I pray she learns by watching me.

Reasonable Requests

Should we go back in? She's calling.
Your blanket needs to be fixed?
I don't want her to be cold.
Night 1: Open door. Fix. Adjust. Kiss. She sleeps.
Night 2: Repeat. She sleeps.
Night 3. Repeat. She sleeps. Lament. This isn't working for me.
Night 3: "No! Fix them yourself!" * Weeping and gnashing of teeth * She sleeps.
Night 4: Anticipating the inevitable, we say lovely things. "I don't care if your blanket is across the room, I'm not coming in here to fix it." She sleeps.


Should we go back in? She's calling.
You need a glass of water?
I don't want you to get dehydrated. You've been a little sick lately.
Night 1: Bring in glass of water. Kiss. She sleeps.
Night 2: This time she comes out for a glass. Kiss. Tuck her back in. She sleeps.
Night 3: "I don't care if you're thirsty - GO TO SLEEP!"
Night 4: Anticipating the inevitable, we say lovely things. "Unless you're choking and about to die, I don't want to see you or hear you." She sleeps.

Now, we run down a list of threats before bed. "No water, no blankets, we're not turning up the music, we're not giving you one more hug. If we see you or hear you call us, no matter what the reason is ... we're taking away your music. Then we're taking away your night light. Do you understand?"

What seems like the worst parenting ever to you, feels like the worst parenting ever to us. No one likes to deny reasonable requests. Water. Blankets. Soft music. It's all reasonable.

But it's insanity. It's delayed sleep. It's one more reason to see my face and kiss it.

Oh! That is SUCH a reasonable reason! To be kissed and hugged ONE MORE TIME.

And so, for the sake of sanity... I remain the worst parent ever. No more water. No fixed blankies.

Good night, dear child.

Christmas: The Best Songs Ever

Sentimental. Overwhelming. Fall on your knees ...

Childhood comforts replace adult anxieties. Our troubles will be out of sight ...

Every feeling of "family" swells.  You can count on me ...

The electric guitar hugs me. The hopes and fears of all the years ...

Narrates my heart. The weary world rejoices ...

Drums beat. Beat. Beating. I have no gift to bring ...

This is every song ever to be sung about Christmas.

By keyboard or pen - just write

Speed blogging.

I know, I know ... it's like we're strangers. I haven't blogged, or videoed, or updated in far too long.
If speed dating gives you a glimpse of someone's life, a brief chance to get to know them, then I think this entry could aptly be considered "speed blogging". Five minutes to learn as much about me as possible.

Ready. Go!

I really miss painting. Once upon a time I had walls. With color. Dark and rich. I'm moving into my 3rd house since marriage and for the first time several rooms are paint-able. There's something quite comforting in a blank canvas, though, and I believe I'll let them be white for a while.

If you're trying to start a small business - you must be crazy. It's agreeing to do more work than you've ever done your entire life only to try and make it possible to work far less than you've ever worked in your entire life. This is a bad plan. And if you're crazy enough to try it, there are people who might call you crazy ...  be ok with this.


We are still faithfully juicing our veggies every morning and to date I've lost 25+ lbs since July 15th. Life changes that happen slow and just become part of the norm are very ok with me. (I would never divulge this information to a stranger ... but I feel oddly at ease with you.)

Speaking of strangers, I find that I am the kindest and most forgiving to people I don't even know. While the ones I love the most are snapped at, held to a standard I don't even care for, and the grudges I carry take on the form of the Grinch; I take your stocking and tinsel so you, too, can be miserable. This needs to change.

I don't communicate when I don't know the answer. Or when I don't like the answer. People are getting married, having babies, performing on stage, struggling with illness. The question is "will you come?" and the answer is difficult to accept. I can't. I just can't. I don't want to admit this. Ever. But then I end up ignoring you because I don't want to deal with the hurt of not being able to be there. And that's worse.

I just checked my watch, 5 minutes are almost up. Not sure if I should shake your hand or hug you now ... I'll just smile awkwardly and go.

Call me?

Praying for your Enemies

I'm sorry? Did you say you don't have any enemies?

I laugh. Sure you do!

If you're like me you first assume an "enemy" is someone who might literally spit in your face. Raise a hand against you. Butt heads in a family-feud and now you don't speak anymore.

But if you will let me - I'd like to suggest that you have many more enemies than that.
Without going to Webster, I would say that an enemy is someone who is against you and against the things important to you. Anyone hindering your goals. Not helping you in your endeavors. I dare say - if they're not for you ... they are indeed against you. Your enemy.
If you must have an official definition, this is for you: A person who is actively opposed or hostile to someone or something.

So. Let's tone down this "spit-in-your-face" mentality and bring the battle field a little closer to home.

Actively opposed. 1. To be in contention or conflict with.

By that definition, your enemy might look something like this:

My goal: Make dinner.
Who's in contention with me? An antsy, hungry 3 year old swirling at my feet, whining, jumping, laughing, "helping" every time I turn around.

Tell me that isn't the truth!

Do you know how many times a day she is actively opposed? How many times she could be considered "an enemy"? We're called to love those that oppose us. Love those that are in contention with us. Pray for them.

But what does my attitude look like when the enemy is a 3 year old?
Frustration. Anger. A snap "Get out of the kitchen!"

But Love says Pray for her.

So - what do I pray? (I know I'm being petty and specific here - but follow me. It ends well.)

I'm pretty sure "praying for enemies" is effective when we're praying FOR THEM. Not against them.

In addition, praying FOR seems different than praying ABOUT. No?

I don't need to pray about my daughter: God help her little size 11's march out of this room. Amen.

No. For her.
Thank you for her. You created her. To swirl and whine and jump and laugh. Thank you for HER goals. Her desires. Help her enjoy life. Teach her patience and love. Give her the desires of her heart. Bless her.

Focusing on her needs immediately turns the focus off my needs. If I let it, prayer will turn my attitude. Toward my enemy. Toward my opposition. Toward the person I am called to love.

And the need to pray for myself.

______________________________________

Grant me the serenity.

______________________________________

Can I get a little more specific?

You know that man you're attracted to? The guy that's married? The one you find yourself talking to on lunch breaks, text messages, and emails? Yeah. His wife is your enemy. If she knew about it, she'd be in direct opposition. And you're called to love her. To pray for her.

What would that prayer sound like? God, thank you for his wife. For her life and her care for this man. I pray that you would keep their family close. Help them grow together, not apart. Give her wisdom, grace, understanding. Giver her the desires of her heart. Bless her.

Praying for her, if you let it, will change your attitude. Toward her.
And the need to pray for yourself.

________________________________________________________________

To accept the things I cannot change.

________________________________________________________________

Praying for your enemy covers the whole shabang - from the idiot who was texting while driving and caused you to be late to work to the person who might literally be trying to steal your job or your spouse -

While this isn't a call to paranoia (enemies are everywhere!) it's a call to prayer. When you feel opposed. When your attitude is wrong. When someone is standing in your way.

I've found praying for my enemies an exercise in my own spiritual, emotional, and social health.

Whether it's a momentary "enemy" or a lifelong one, if you'll turn your thoughts and your heart toward prayer, I'm convinced you'll find it easier to love others and more difficult to hold onto the anger that consumes you.

________________________________________________________________

Courage to change the things I can.

________________________________________________________________

Signs of Aging

Some days the signs of aging seem much more prominent than they actually are.

Some days I honestly think this is what you see when you look at me.

Know what I mean?

Motherless Children

I hope you find a way to get through holidays. Anniversaries of life and death. Significant moments.

* Mother's day is a day of thankfulness otherwise I sufficate under the blankets of self-pity and loss. Write to the women who have shared their nurturing heart with you. Be a "mom" to someone else who needs to be held for a moment, someone who needs an unconditional hug. By finding the "mothers" that surround you and looking into your life for those you "mother" you'll find a vast array of women (even if coworkers!) who deserve to be celebrated.

* Christmas, a day to share life with the living. Embrace family and friends that laugh and love. Intentionally surround yourself with them. Make new traditions. Create new memories. Drink a little.

*I have had only two moments since her death that caught me off guard. Flooded with tears.
The first was 6 years after she passed. I realized mid-day that it was the anniversary of her death AND it was the same day of the week as the day she died. For some reason that significance caught me by surprise.

The second was 7 years after she passed. I had a question about office managing and reached for the phone. As if it were completely natural to just give her a call. That was the strangest feeling I'd ever had.

I have been silently counting the years. Looking at the horizon knowing the day would come.

The year I turned 34. I counted. "This is the year she discovered breast cancer."

Today. I counted. "This is the equinox." 

image from http://groundshaking.blogspot.com/2010/05/on-turning-18-fear-and-trust.html

18 years with her, 18 years without. Up until now the days with her outnumbered the days without. From here on that changes. And now starts a new counting.

When I turn 43. "This is the year she died."
Every year after. "These are the years she didn't get to live."

You know I don't dwell on her much. But this counting - it's always on my mind. A way to remember. A way to acknowledge that she once lived.

When she died, I didn't have an email address. "Bottled water" was a laughable idea. These scrubbies weren't invented yet.

picture from http://www.thebeautyclutch.com/bath-scrubbie--.html

Stumbling upon some archives comforts me. See. She did live. Proof. (Thank you Altamont Enterprise!)

Whatever you do to get through your days, you're not alone. Count. Remember. Celebrate. Be thankful. Or flat-out cry. I'm with ya.

Slow down

I push play and close my eyes.

To hear every string, every key.

Your voice is just how I remember.

Music flows to the empty spaces.

Fills the gaps of my thirsty soul.

I am full and undone.

Slowing down.

Aware.

Today, the earth smells like a new book.

Listening to music here: Spotify