The Four Minute Party

Today as I did my morning “straighten up” walk through the house, I noticed that the laundry seemed to have doubled overnight.  How is that even possible?  Did the soccer and baseball socks multiply like rabbits after I brushed my teeth and crawled in under the covers last night? 

I just do not like to do laundry.  Well, I found myself in this mood as I walked by the door to the washing machine several times this morning and decided I needed to do something about it.  (My first thought was to simply close the closet doors and make a wish that it would all disappear, but that didn’t work.)

I got out the broom and swept up the cat litter that’s flung across the floor so politely as our cats exit the box each time, took out the trash, swept behind, yes behind, the two lovely machines, washed the inside of the laundry soap dispenser, cleaned out the dryer vents and wiped down both machines.  It looked so clean and fresh.  It didn’t really make me want to do the laundry that much more, but it did lift my spirits a bit.

I got caught up in the moment of “having” to do my work and had a little pity me party (it wasn’t long enough to have sent out invitations, so don’t think you missed out on anything. It was only four minutes long.)  I changed my frame of thought, cleaned up the mess that was making me frustrated and my spirit started to lift.  If I focus on giving while I’m doing it, it really isn’t so daunting of a task.  I’ve already done three loads and even cleaned out the sock basket, so things are looking up.

So rather than hang the pity me party streamers, and set out the punch, I’ve decided to light a few candles, grab my new book, my hot tea and read in between loads and just get it done with a light heart rather than the woe is me heart.  Amazing what a little change in attitude can do, isn’t it?

The Story of What is “You”

As my car comes to a stop at the light, I see a young woman jogging in place, waiting for the white hand to appear in the light box across the street.  She waits for it, still keeping her pace and then quickly crosses to the other side. 

While standing in line at the grocery store, I notice the man in front of me has on a very large gold ring with engraving all over it.  It appears to be a military type ring but can’t tell from my angle.  He nods at the clerk and walks toward the sliding doors, a small bag of oranges in hand.

The jogger, the older man, each have a story.  I don’t know their story.  I only see a small snippet of their day, their lives, as our paths wind in and out, likely to never know what has brought them to the stoplight or the check out stand.

We all have a story.  Our histories are unique to us and not one other being has the life experiences we have. What will our lives mean to those who are important to us?  Will our stories be told to generations to come? What will the stories include?  Will they remember the same details we do or will those bits be left out?

Many of us keep photos or scrapbooks, so some of our lives are there in all their color to be remembered, but we don’t take pictures and scrapbook the days we were disappointed or sad. We don’t write down how we met our spouses to pass on to our great-grandchildren or what our favorite song of all time is.  These little pieces of our story, when pieced together make for a very interesting life that is uniquely our own.

What are you doing to share the story of what is “you” with your loved ones?  Do you keep a journal?  Do you record yourself singing along to the radio?  Do you write letters? I think it’s important that our children and their children know what our lives contained, what we were like as a child, a teen-ager, a first-time mother with a tiny baby in our arms.  These are our stories and no one else can tell them, share them.  Share them.

Yet, There Are Moments...

There are some days when the “daydreaming” takes over my mind and my heart.  It’s usually just for a few moments, but yet it still happens some days.  I have all that I need.  I don’t need anything but what I already have.   I have so much. 

Yet…there are moments….that I dream of flying to Paris on business for an important meeting.

 Maybe we have to have these moments to appreciate all that we have.  I am surrounded by love everyday.  My husband tucks me in when I don’t feel good and keeps the boys quiet so as not to disturb me.   My children laugh and giggle at the dinner table about silly lyrics to made up songs.

Yet…there are moments…that I dream of buying the Sunday paper from the little corner store in the city and walking to the bakery for a cream cheese danish.

Maybe we have to have daydreams in order to know what is real to us; know what our truth is.  I have more than I deserve. I have a husband who supports my every whim or creative idea and encourages me to do what I want.  I have children who play the recorder on a Saturday and play the baritone for the fun of it.

Yet…there are moments…that I dream of owning my own gift shop and selling 

homemade jams in a small town in Vermont.

Maybe they aren’t “daydreams” at all but more like little pieces of our personality that just peek out every once in a while to tell us it’s ok to day dream about life and all it has to offer.  What ever you want to call them, they sneak into our days and allow us to drift for a few minutes to places unknown, to be creative in our own little worlds. I suppose it’s not about wanting a different life, but knowing that life is filled with endless possibilities.

One day, maybe one of those daydreams you have will no longer just be a daydream?

Just Be

walking around the lake carrying a book with a cream colored shawl

wrapped around my shoulders

embroidering pale pink flowers on a crisp white pillow case

while listening to the birds chirp

sitting on a porch, rocking in a green chair

watching the rain drip from the gutters as the thunder rolls past

a candle burning on the nightstand while the curtains blow

and the ocean waves rush into the sand

sitting in a meadow surrounded by lavender

with the sun shining on my neck listening to the choir of grasshoppers sing

Maybe I’m just an old soul, but the idea of quietly being in the world 

is in my heart and so wish I had more time to just be.

Dog-Eared Loveliness

I just purchased a new magazine and am only half way through it and almost every page is dog-eared.  I thought I’d share with you some of the loveliness that I’ve come across while reading it.  

Enjoy your weekend.

           

BD Antiques

Just Something I Made

Beachy Chic

Letter Lover

Gimundo

Old Crow Farm Antiques

Jill Ruth

Secret Garden Cottage