Musings of a 60+ writer, reader, and opinionated observer determined to understand life before it’s all over. Seems the older I get the less I know. There’s a story in there somewhere.
A beautiful little note arrived recently from fellow blogger Sherri at Simple.Easier.Happier. She’s nominated me for the One Lovely Blog award and you know what, gosh darn it, I’m going to accept!
Honestly, I have received and accepted this nomination before, but acknowledgement from others is so hard to pass up! And it gives me a chance to find some new worthy recipients.
First, THANK YOU, SHERRI! I discovered Sherri’s blog back in April when I was on the hunt for something to nudge me to declutter and simplify my life. She’s crossed the finish line in that effort and she’s an inspiration. Her blog has morphed a bit from her early efforts at simplifying but she’s still offering insights into how to lead an easier, happier life. She’s also a delightful writer, you’ll enjoy her blog.
According to the rules of accepting this award, I’m to share seven possibly unknown things about myself and nominate 15 or so bloggers I admire to receive the award.
Here’s a picture of a cat. I couldn’t find a clever photo for this post, so as fellow blogger MEOW hear this says, when in doubt, just give them a picture of a cat. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Regarding the seven things about myself, I’m running out of “meaningful” things to share. Besides, how does one remain truly mysterious when she shares too much? How about this: I once wanted to write for soaps, but I guess they didn’t think I had the chops. Not enough drama in my life, or something. (Yeah, right.)
Nominating 15 or so bloggers is seriously difficult. I love the work of many of my fellow bloggers and have nominated them for every award that came my way. So . . .
1. I’m going to go looking for some new bloggers to nominate and will reserve the right to just zing ‘em with the award as I discover them. I’ll let you know who/what I find.
2. If you’re reading this and you think you should be nominated, leave a comment and tell me why. (This is serious plagiarism, folks. I borrowed this idea, without intention of returning it, from a blogger back in March . . . and if my posts were more organized, I might actually be able to tell you who that was. *sigh*)
Again, thanks to Sherri for the nomination. I’m honored. Enjoy the cat.
I’m usually loathe to forward or post any piece of “just shut up and be joyful” writing that comes to me — usually from well-meaning friends. That said, this one arrived in my inbox yesterday and as instructed by the friend who sent it, I read it all the way through, slowly.
And, I got it. I think reading it slowly helped. I usually skim stuff like this but this time I tried to absorb every sentence.
Then again, who knows, maybe it was just the right thing at the right time. Just the thing I needed to hear at that moment, like when the pages of a particular book fall open at the perfect time to leave a lasting impression.
Anyway, I bought flowers when I was shopping yesterday and I came across a compilation of “Whose Line is it Anyway: Scenes from a Hat” on YouTube. I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. And, even though the clip was an hour-long and I kept telling myself I had other things to do, I just kept watching it. It just felt good. (See the end of the post for an hour’s worth of laughs!)
Rereading this piece today as I post it, it borders on a little sappy, a bit over dramatic. Sort of illustrates that thing I was saying about something just touching you at the right moment.
I hope you find something here to remind you to find some (dare I say it?) joy in your life today. And, no you don’t have to forward it to your 50 closest friends. (I’d like to reference the author of this piece, but I can’t find the source. Apologies.)
Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven’t thought about it, don’t have it on their schedule, didn’t know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.
I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I’ve tried to be a little more flexible.
How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn’t suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word ‘refrigeration’ mean nothing to you?
How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched Jeopardy on television?
I cannot count the times I called my sister and said , ‘How about going to lunch in a half hour?’ She would gas up and stammer, ‘I can’t. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain’ And my personal favorite: ‘It’s Monday.’ She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.
Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!
We’ll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We’ll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We’ll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.
Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of ‘I’m going to,’ ‘I plan on,’ and ‘Someday, when things are settled down a bit.’
When anyone calls my ‘seize the moment’ friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you’re ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Roller-blades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.
My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It’s just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-Decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.
Now…go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to…not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?
Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry-go-round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask ‘How are you?’ Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, ‘We’ll do it tomorrow.’ And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say ‘Hi’?
When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift….Thrown away….. Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over.
‘Life may not be the party we hoped for… But while we are here we might as well dance!’ ~ Anonymous
First, just a quick note to my Camp NaNoWriMo buddies: I finally figured out how to get us all into the same cabin. Here’s the word sent from “above.”
A couple of quick tips:
1. The best way to get our processing system to bunk you in the same cabin as a friend’s is for all of you to opt out of your cabins (the link should be on the same page as your cabin message board, at the bottom).
2. Next, you’ll want to go to your “Cabin Settings”, and hit “Request Specific Campers”, and input each other’s names within the same 24 hour period. Make sure everyone has defined a novel for August as well.
3. Cabins are reassigned daily at around 4 am PST. Make sure to request each other during the same cycle, and your chances will be good!
So, I’ve made my changes and my request for a new cabin with all of you in it and hope this works out. I could use the encouragement right about now!
As to the my novel itself, however . . . I’m limping along (a pun for those of you who know I’m dealing with a torn medial meniscus on my left knee). Writing through pain meds is, uh, interesting, and provides unique characters and plot twists. But, I’m also easily frustrated, have a short attention span and my resulting word count is feeble. I’m hanging in there, and as I shared with fellow camper and blogger, Sarah (Introverted Blogger), this may be the first time I actually lose one of these challenges.
Alas, enough with the pity party! I’m off to the gym today to get some upper body work in (before everything goes to mush) and buy some bright yellow flowers for my desk. Then I’m going to sit down to catch up on reading blog posts here. It’s time to re-enter the real world and live off something other than chocolate and trash TV.
Sorry to inflict the following on you, but even a commercial from the depths of trash TV seemed better than a picture of a torn medial meniscus.
Yahoo! I’m home! My house. My home. My bed. My husband. My cats. My schedule.
I woke up late this morning. I didn’t water anything. I didn’t feed anything. My husband did it. I didn’t have to give anything medication. Well, not quite true, I did take my own pills, but nothing else in the house requires meds.
Here’s to Hugh Hefner who made wearing pajamas in public 24/7 not only ok but really kinda cool. Mine lean a bit more toward sassy tee shirts than silk, but hey, I’m not a mogul of naked women either. Meh, to each his own.
I didn’t do dishes and I didn’t clean house. And, I didn’t do laundry. Hell, I didn’t even unpack. They’ll all still be here to be done tonight. Or even tomorrow.
And, I’m still in the tee shirt I slept in. If I didn’t have a doctor’s appointment in two hours I wouldn’t even get out of that. I mean why bother if I’m only going to get back into it. Hmmm. On second thought, is the doctor going to refuse to treat me if I’m in my tee shirt and nothing else? If my teeth, face and hair are unbrushed? I guess I’d get a few odd looks and a few people backing away from me waving their hands in front of their noses, but people probably do that sometimes anyway.
My point is, for missing all my friends and that daily splash in the pool and having access to all the homegrown heirloom tomatoes I can pick and smoosh into my mouth, I am completely free of obligations like watering half an acre of garden daily, feeding and medicating three cats on rigid schedules, keeping a huge house immaculate, and, alas, keeping myself clean and appropriately attired for all the inconsiderate neighbors who drop in night and day just to borrow a glass of wine and stay to talk and finish the bottle! I’m home!!
Presumably, worthy posts will resume shortly. Presumably. Better look up that word.
Union break. I’m half way through morning chores when I decide I need an iced coffee.
I can feel my blood sugar dropping so I turn off the hose and make my way toward the house. But, first I see a flower that needs to be deadheaded. Done.
Then, take down a hummingbird feeder that needs to be refilled — I’ll take it in with me, fill it and bring it out when I return.
Inside the house (I’m still at my sister’s), I pass the laundry room and realize the dryer has stopped and the load of towels have been sitting long enough to get a bit wrinkled. I wet the wash cloth and start them again.
Hmm. The cat box needs to be cleaned. It can wait. I need to eat something.
Iskaffe (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I pick up the cat dishes and on my way to the sink with them am thinking how the floor needs to be swept when I drop one of the dishes on my sister’s beautiful tile floor. Now I have to sweep the floor before I cut my foot or worse yet, one of the cats get cut and I have to figure out where the vet is.
I’m getting that crazy thing going where I can’t get anything done because everywhere I turn I see something that needs to be done and I can’t stay focused long enough to get anything done because everywhere I turn I see something that needs to be done so I can’t get anything done because . . . well, you know.
I sweep the floor and decide I’d better make that coffee and grab a nutrition bar at least before I faint and no one finds me before my sister and her husband get home late Saturday night.
Not that anyone would care except the hungry cats and the dead vegetables and plants. Well, and my friends who expect me for lunch at our favorite Thai place tomorrow and my cabin buddies at the first day of Camp NaNoWriMo tomorrow. (I still don’t know what I’m going to write. *freak out*)
I love that one of the Splenda packages I opened for my coffee said “If you can’t sprinkle something sweet, don’t sprinkle anything at all.” I’m pretty sure they were referring to Splenda and not my attitude. I’ll have to discuss that with my therapist.
Oh, my coffee is empty. I’m afraid to go downstairs again to make another. I’m sure to pass several things that need to done or open another Splenda packet with more sweet, sage advice.
And, the dryer is probably done and the clothes are wrinkled again and the cat box is still dirty and the humming birds have probably emptied another feeder and I haven’t refilled the first one and another flower is probably dead and I need to buy a cat dish to replace the one I broke and I think my blood sugar is dropping again and I hear Katie left Tom and poor Suri and I haven’t even watched the Olympics today and I still don’t know what I’m writing for Camp and it starts tomorrow. Is it too early to go back to bed?
Chrome dinette raft seeks woman over 60+ with book and tropical drink for fantasy escape from all cares and woes for 21 days in 100+ degree heat. No questions asked.
Could someone please explain to me how three weeks of “vacation” has turned into never having a spare moment to write or spend in the sun by the pool or read one of the books I brought with me or sleep in or any of the other things I planned? I mean, seriously?? Is this a joke?
Answers in upcoming posts. If I can figure them out.
