I am the designated keeper of things.

In my last post I talked about cleaning out my children's toys and collections of things, including rocks.
I admit I like to keep things too. I remember as the kids were getting older and they would clean their rooms (occasionally) and sometimes, but rarely, decide there was something they no longer needed or wanted. If we had the time, we would pack up the things and take them to Wilbur and include them in the family yard sale. Sometimes I also found things I could part with. As it happens, things have come and gone from our lives. Some things we remember and some we don't.
Sometimes when Noah was home on leave from the Marine Corps he would go through his things. I remember him giving away some of his clothes, taking bags of things to Goodwill and yes, even throwing some things away. But still, my boy is a sentimental boy - much like me. His wife has had to accept his obsession for old suitcases and cameras. I think she may have even embraced them to a certain extent, finding useful ways of using the suitcases and decorative ways to display the cameras. In fact, the old cameras may even have become a shared passion.
Recently they moved to a new apartment. I was talking to Monica about all of Noah's stuff. I told her that the day always comes when you look at things with fresh eyes and decide you no longer need them. Sometimes you even will exclaim out loud - "Why do I have this?!" There comes a time when you realize that getting rid of the things is not the same as losing the memories.
I still am not at a point myself where I can get rid of all of my childhood things. It is even harder for me to "allow" my kids to give up some of theirs. That is why I store them. I wonder where the three of us got this trait - this habit of keeping things.

Well, here is one clue. Several years ago I was visiting my mom and she gave me some stuff - a box of baseball cards and a little collection of marbles and cars. She had "saved" these things from the yard sales because she thought someday Noah would regret not keeping them. Also, whenever my mother is cleaning out her own things she lets me look through them first. She has also given me things that she had originally given my sisters. My sisters put them in yard sales and mom took them and gave them to me. There are also those things that mom doesn't want for herself or has decided she hasn't got room for, but she can't quite completely let go of - so they become mine. You should know - that of my mother's children, my house is by far the smallest.
It doesn't matter. You see, each family needs a keeper of the things. That is me.

Rocks - were they really that beautiful?

I guess you could call me a collector. I have a lot of things. I like them.

Three years ago when Darrell and I got engaged, we decided he should finally move in. My kids, who are now 28 and 31 years old still had a lot of their own collections here. So, I began the task of going through things and determining what to keep and what to store. This task required a few phone calls. I remember several, but two that stuck with me. "Hi Noah, hey, you know this little container of Mt. St. Helen's ash? Do you still want it?" - Noah: "I like that. Yeah, keep it for me." Done. It is in storage with the matchbox cars, baseball cards, super-hero toys, etc. I did not count the containers.

When I got to Anna's room it became even more difficult. I remember calling her and asking her if she wanted me to keep her bag of rocks. She said "Well, I'd like to go through them myself." So, the rocks went into storage with the Barbies, the Care Bears, the Ponies, Charmkins, and many stuffed animals.  I remember thinking it was a little silly to keep the rocks at the time, but I did it for her.

So, the cleaning out continued and lo and behold, in another place of stashed treasures I found a little brown striped suitcase that had been mine when I was a child. I opened it up and it was full of, you guessed it, rocks. I kept them.

I was thinking about all of this the other morning, when I was too tired to get up, but too wound up to sleep. It made me wonder about the rocks. We kept them for a reason - they were special to us. We saw the beauty in each rock we kept. Why then, when we look at them now, do we only see rocks? Is it because we are so caught up in the chaos we create that we can no longer see beauty, or is because they really aren't beautiful and never were?
I believe we have just forgotten what matters. I believe we are so weighed down with what life has become that we just don't see at all.
You have heard the expression - "Stop and smell the roses."
I have a new one.

Stop and see the rocks. 

Pick a few up and take them home. You might get your hands a little dirty, but they don't have thorns. When you look at them - think about what really matters and make time for those things.

I will.

Rainbows, and connections.

 I was thinking about my pets the other morning. All of them, the ones who have had to leave my life and the ones still here. My kids do tease me about the rainbow bridge. I suppose they think it is cute that their mom believes in it.

The Rainbow Bridge

By the edge of a woods, at the foot of a hill,

Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.

Where the friends of man and woman do run,

When their time on earth is over and done.

For here, between this world and the next,

Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.

On this golden land, they wait and they play,

Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.

No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,

For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness.

Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,

Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.

They romp through the grass, without even a care,

Until one day they start, and sniff at the air.

All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,

Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.

For just at that instant, their eyes have met;

Together again, both person and pet.

So they run to each other, these friends from long past,

The time of their parting is over at last.

The sadness they felt while they were apart,

Has turned into joy once more in each heart.

They embrace with a love that will last forever,

And then, side-by-side, they cross over… together.

Pets, like people, all have different communication styles. My cats have all been so incredibly special. There was Spike, he was all black, not a smidgeon of white anywhere on him. He came to us in 1979, right around Halloween. You could almost say he was my first child, except back then I wasn't quite as cat crazy as I am now. I loved him, but I was busy with other things then - a new marriage and then having my babies. We had Spike longer than any cat since. He was 13 when his kidneys started to fail and I had to let him go. Here is Spike when he was still quite young.

After Spike was gone I found a kitten in a frozen pipe down behind the Tri-City Herald where I worked. I think it was about 1994. My son chose to name him Fred, after Frederick Douglass who he was studying in school. He really admired him and here is an example why:

"I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and to incur my own abhorrence." Frederick Douglass

So, Fred was a tiny little kitten and had to be fed with a dropper. We all loved him. We decided he would be an indoor cat. He was neutered, got his shots and had a good life. Then he started to spray in the house and we tried lots of things to deter him. I put bowls of lemons around in the places he had sprayed, laid down tin foil, even took him to the vet to be examined. The vet prescribed a small amount of valium for him to take each morning. One morning I accidentally took Fred's medicine while I was getting ready for work - but that is a different story. Anyway, the valium didn't work and Fred became an outdoor cat. (although he was allowed inside as long as he was on a lap or supervised closely) Fred got bigger and tougher and he certainly knew how to take care of himself. He was a beautiful cat - despite his torn ear and scars from his scrappy fights with other cats. The vet even suggested I show him at one time because he was so beautiful. As a baby he looked like he would be a siamese, but he grew stripes and was a white and grey tiger with lovely blue eyes:

Sometime in in the winter of 2002 Fred disappeared. I was a wreck, knocking on doors, running ads, checking the pound, crying - a lot. I ran so many ads that after a few of them my friends started telling me I had gone too far and needed to stop. I didn't know how to tell my son who was away at boot camp. So, I didn't. I grieved and decided I would never get another cat. Well, someone at work brought in pictures of some kittens who needed homes and of course, I chose one. I didn't name him, I was saving that job for Noah. The cat was part Bengal so I had started calling him Benny, but I hadn't settled on it.
When I went to Noah's boot camp graduation at MCRD in San Diego I told him I had some bad news. He said - "It's about Fred, isn't it?" He explained that as he was petting Fred before the recruiter picked him up to go to boot camp he knew it would be the last time. I showed him all the ads I had run and then told him I had a new kitten. I had video of him to show Noah and then I asked him what he wanted to name him. He said "How about Benny? I always wanted to name a cat Benny." (My dad's name was Benny - I forgot to mention that.) So, now Benny was part of the family. Noah went Camp Pendleton for the next part of his training, then to Fort Leonardwood, Missouri to become a  military policeman. Then Noah went to Iraq - twice. Benny was there for me the whole time. He became so dear to me. He knew when I was sad or worried and he found ways to help me. Benny was not much of a talker, but he could speak to you with his eyes. He was a lap cat, and slept on my bed. His only really annoying habit was that he liked to lick ears. Once when Anna was visiting she woke up in the morning and told me that she had woke up with slobber all over her from Benny licking her ears. Me, I slept with one ear on the pillow and my hand protecting the other. Well, Benny wasn't a healthy cat. He had asthma and many times I had to take him to the emergency vet. I babied him and stressed out over him and panicked any time I couldn't find him. He often hid from me - I think just to test my love. He only lived to the age of 5, when I awoke to find him lying very still cuddled by my side where he had silently passed. I still miss him so much.

While Benny was still alive I had found a litter of kittens under my house. I fed them and found homes for a couple until the mother decided to move them. She left the runt behind. I named him Cortez (well, I think Noah may have chosen that name too) and he fit in quite well. So well in fact that he and Benny became inseparable. Benny was definitely the alpha cat though. Corty would hide under the blanket that fell off to the side of the couch and I would sneakily pet him. He knew that he was not allowed on my lap or he would suffer the wrath of Benny later on. Corty became content to sit near and he got all the affection he required from Benny. After we lost Benny it was time for Cortez to be the alpha - the only cat. I tried to lavish him with affection but he still just liked to sit near me. He let me pet him, but he didn't like to be held. He would sleep at the foot of the bed but he never became a cuddler. He was very vocal though. Corty and I talked. Corty said "I love you" - although no one believes me. I did record it but unless you listen closely and have a good imagination you won't hear it. Mostly you will hear me coaxing him to say it.

Unfortunately Corty didn't live a long life either and died almost exactly one year after Benny. He had gotten a bladder infection, became blocked and had kidney damage.  I knew he was dying and the vet kept trying to help him. His last weekend I knew that on Monday I was going to have to let him go. On Sunday morning I got up in the night and looked under the bed. As I shone the flashlight on him he lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. I went back to bed. Awhile later I thought I felt his light little body jump up onto the bed. I sat up and tried to see in the dark and I saw him walking toward me - as I reached forward I realized he was not there. I fell asleep again and and when I checked on him in the early morning I found that he had passed. I believe it happened when I felt his spirit as he said goodbye to me. I tried everything to keep him with me but he had to leave me too. Noah put it sweetly when he said my cats just burned too brightly. One morning shortly after Cortez had died I was really missing him. As I walked into my bedroom with tears in my eyes and thinking about the rainbow bridge I saw this rainbow on my wall. I had never seen it there and have not seen it since. I do believe it was a message from Cortez.

Before Corty died I got engaged and my man moved in. He brought with him Thomas the terrible, my red-headed step cat. Thomas was not nice to Corty and I think I held a bit of a grudge against him when Corty died. I still fed him and held him and gave him love, but I didn't let myself love as I normally would. I didn't want to lose another dear friend. Well, Thomas has stolen my heart and he is very loyal, especially to me. He sleeps curled up next to my neck every night. He does talk, but it sounds more like constant whining. Not like Corty's sweet little unassuming meows. But Thomas is who he is and I love him like crazy. He knows when I need him. When I lost my job Thomas was there for me. He enjoys having me home instead of working each day. He often takes his paw and just gently touches my face when he knows I am sad. I know someday I will lose him too, but for now I will just enjoy him every moment that I can.

When I lose him I know he will join the others, there on the rainbow bridge and they will all get along. They will all wait for me. When I get there we will have a harmonious reunion and there will be no alpha cat, only the omega. It will be lovely.

Rainbow Connection by Kermit the Frog

Burning the candle at both ends...

For obvious reasons, I will write this post later. (or earlier, whichever comes first)

It is now later - in the day, that is.

"She gets up while it is still dark...her lamp does not go out at night." Proverbs 31


My lamp goes out, but the wheels in my head keep turning. I have heard that burning the candle at both ends originated in what I like to call 'the olden days' when it was considered wasteful to throw away any part of the candle. Now it simply means working too hard and wearing yourself out. 


I love Christmas! I truly do. For years I lamented that I didn't have time to do the things I used to do when I didn't have a job. I still did them, only on a smaller scale, and often my cookies were a little off in shape, a little burned and not as tasty as I remembered them from years before. This is the first time in over 20 years when I didn't have to work most of the days surrounding Christmas. When I had a job I baked and made candy and shopped and wrapped and decorated - and all of that - after work or on the weekends.


I think that because I had time this year I put a lot more pressure on myself to do a lot more. I mean a LOT more! We got a full size tree this year. I also decorated the other surfaces in the house, nativity set, angels, snowmen, Santa, all the usual stuff that has now become unusual at my house.


Mom came and brought gingerbread dough. She rolled and cut and baked them. She frosted them. While I shopped for more supplies she also mixed up the sugar cookie dough. Mom also made the caramels because really, she does them best! While she was here I made cathedral window cookies and fudge. In the past week I have rolled, cut, baked and decorated the sugar cookies, made almond butter cookies, chocolate crinkles, peanut blossoms and two different kinds of scramble mix. Today I am making the almond roca and the famous cheese ball. Tomorrow I will roll and bake the beef stick that is mixed up in the fridge and make the sweet hot mustard.
So have I been 'burning the candle at both ends' or am I just burned out? Maybe I've been 'burning the midnight oil'?


I have shopped and done the wrapping. Most of my cards are out and 3 packages have been mailed. It makes me happy - but my body is not happy with me. Today I am resting a little, just a little.

I am sure many people accomplish much more than I have and also have full time jobs. I know people like that. I wonder if they also have the pain and fatigue that I have. I watched my mom do all that she did in the 2 days she was here and I was amazed. She said her shoulder was a little sore, but that was her only complaint. 


My list is much longer and I often resist the urge to explain, as it does sound more like whining to me. But, I know that I am not the only person with a chronic pain disorder. (Hmmm - syndrome, disease, disorder? - never really know what to call it) So, for my friends who suffer as I do, and also because every now and then I need to vent - here is my list of things that hurt. This part of venting always reminds me of that Sunday school song - "Head and shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes .... clap your hands together!"


feet, calves, knees, thighs, hips, lower back, neck, shoulders, elbows, hands (can't clap them together) - and my head. My head hurts. 
Wow! that is not such a long list after all. Why would I complain? Why does this sound like whining, to me? Does it sound like that to you?
I will tell you why. Guilt. Good old fashioned guilt. I love you Martha Stewart, but we can't all be like you. I don't blame you for the pressure we feel to try, it comes from within. We can blame society, but who is society? We are. We, (or is it just me?) expect so much of ourselves and feel guilty if we can't get it done. 


No one told me to make all those cookies. There is no way we can eat them all ourselves. But they sure are pretty and they sure are good and they sure take up a lot of space in my refrigerator and freezer and on my counter.


Anna is coming home. She will like them but she is a tiny little bird-like girl and she won't make a dent in them. I could send some to my Noah, but he doesn't much like sweets. He does like the gingerbread boys though. Monica likes he caramels and my Anna, she loves the nanaimo bars. (I forgot I also made nanaimo bars)


Okay, I have rambled enough today. I need to do some more school work now. I decided to skip the 3 hour long test I was supposed to take today. I will take it next week, it was just another thing I had told myself had to be done this week. There is math involved and I know I would have been a wreck. Next week will be better. I will eat some cookies for energy and go be smart.


I'll let you know how it turns out...

To be ( the melting pot), or not to be (the melting pot)? That is the question.

I originally named my blog "The Melting Pot" because it was just going to be a place where I dumped a lot of thoughts that didn't all tie together. This morning (much too early this morning) I had a thought about Diversity classes and the term the melting pot not being politically correct. I couldn't remember why exactly - so here is what Wikipedia says about it:

The melting pot is a metaphor for a heterogeneous society becoming more homogeneous, the different elements "melting together" into a harmonious whole with a common culture. It is particularly used to describe the assimilation of immigrants to the United States; the melting-together metaphor was in use by the 1780s.

After 1970 the desirability of assimilation and the melting pot model was challenged by proponents of multiculturalism, who assert that cultural differences within society are valuable and should be preserved, proposing the alternative metaphor of the mosaic or salad bowl – different cultures mix, but remain distinct.

 Okay, now I remember! (and I agree) Our different cultures need to be preserved. For some it is already too late. I think it would be silly to change the name of my blog to "The Salad Bowl" - but if anyone finds melting pot offensive I will change it to something! :-)  I don't like the idea of my ideas becoming homogeneous and melting together. They are all separate ideas and each comes from a different place in my mind or my heart. I'm going to stop trying to analyze this now because I will get into a lot of metaphors about how I am one person with many facets, a mosaic, if you will.

Time management...

The following essay was part of a quiz. The unit was on learning strategies and we reviewed videos from Dartmouth College - the time management tips came from Cornell. I was asked to identify 4 things from the videos that I would implement in my quest to be successful - and why. This is not beautifully written, but - it wasn't supposed to be and I think it answers the questions. I need to learn to be more concise for the purpose of completing the course by SATURDAY!!! This course became available to me online on the 17th and must be completed by the 24th - no pressure the week before Christmas, right?  There are 13 units and I am not sure how many essays. If you know me, you know I am all about lengthy explanations. Right now I want to tell you all about the 5 videos. But I won't. :-)


The videos really helped me to see the things that have held me back, not only in my former job, but in my day to day activities. I have never been a good note taker, and because of it I often declined taking on that task in management meetings. Learning to take notes while keeping the main idea in mind is helpful. I never knew about reviewing and then reducing notes and can see that it is something that will help me immensely. I plan to practice that as soon as I am in a note taking situation.

Time management is an issue for me. I have been amazed during the past seven months of being unemployed how little time I seem to have. I can barely fathom how I got things done when I was working forty hours per week. The daily grid of penciling in classes, appointments, study time and personal time hour by hour is something I will implement.

I am a good reader but do have a tendency to lose interest and start skimming, which makes retaining what I've read often extremely difficult. Because of that habit I find that it takes me much longer to read a book than it used to. Dividing the page into three parts and tapping as I read is something I would like to try.

I believe I was always aware that recitation is a good way to commit things to long term memory but I have not made time to do it. I do struggle cognitively with both long and short term memory, which is exacerbated by a chronic pain condition. Sticking to a consistent sleep schedule has been prescribed and I have not done it. Especially since losing my job, I have allowed myself to stay up late and sleep in. As a result I am always fatigued and my pain has increased. For me to be successful in a job or in school I must change my ways. These are all things I will be working on.

What makes a successful student?

Unit 4 of my first class at college culminated in an essay assignment. There is a chart listing several characteristics of a successful student, with the opposing statements for what would make an unsuccessful student. I was to identify which (good) characteristics I already possessed and which ones I need to improve on. The minimum was 10 sentences! Oh well, I've never been good at condensing my own thoughts.

Beginning an essay is always the most difficult part for me. I usually create a piece completely in my head before ever putting it in writing. This made me realize that I could use some work on having a plan of action. I have written many things in my head that never made it to paper, things that might have been very inspiring and given me a sense of accomplishment. I guess you could say that I consistently plan effective actions, but don't make the time to effectively execute them.

The first characteristic of a successful student that I feel I already have would be a very strong self-awareness. I had been identified by the Myers Briggs test as INFJ and then years later as ISFP. I will always be an introverted and feeling person, but find that I vacillate between trusting my intuition and sensing the truth. I have considered my common sense a positive characteristic in the work place, while being able to empathize has helped me to be a fair and caring supervisor.

I am personally responsible - I know that while I can't always control life changes, it is my response to them that really matters. I had a job that I loved for 21 years. I started with no college education and was given the opportunity to grow and learn. I was pushed outside of my comfort zone many times and even pushed myself when I knew it was necessary. When given the option to stay as a part-time employee or take a severance package and leave, my first instinct was to take the safe option. I dug in my heels and thought I would stay. With a week to decide what to do I realized that I was feeling like a victim. I couldn't remain a victim so I chose to leave. It has been seven months now and I still feel grief. I miss my daily schedule, I miss my friends and I miss feeling like what I did every day really mattered. It was my choice to leave. I would have preferred to not have to make that choice but I can see now that it is opening up many opportunities for me. I am now going to continue to be a life-long learner. I always wanted to go back to school.

I am chronologically mature! Does that mean I am always emotionally mature? I think so. I have dealt with situational depression during my life. When I was in a dysfunctional marriage with an alcoholic husband I went to Al-Anon, I went to my pastor, I got private counseling and I took my children to Alateen. Once I had done all I could and things didn't improve, I took a loan on my 401k and got a divorce (at my children's urging). I had prayed for the "right" path and realized that free will was my answer. I chose to change my life and make the best of it. I do have peace of mind that even when I made poor decisions I have been able to learn from them.

Given the things I've written it may come as a surprise that I need to work on believing in myself. A Human Resources manager once told me that as a supervisor I needed to "exude confidence." I remember wondering at the time how I could fake confidence when I wasn't even sure how it felt to be confident. I was a good supervisor one-on-one, but felt intimidated in larger groups. I volunteered to go to training to become a Diversity Awareness facilitator. It was my way of pushing myself into unknown territory in order to gain confidence. I found that I enjoyed planning the weeklong sessions with 15-20 of my peers. I enjoyed opening up in order to help them do the same. I found that my own life lessons were of value when helping others to embrace difference. I had grown from a shy, naive housewife into someone I was proud of.

After the loss of my job in May I felt I had come full circle and had returned to the person who had no confidence and nothing to offer to any employer. After all, my skills were all learned at the newspaper. I used newspaper software, newspaper lingo; I had let my job define me. I was "Nancy from the Herald." People cared and tried to help, they tried to stay in touch and I retreated. I was not building mutually supportive relationships, but hiding away. I did a lot of crying. I have always felt though, that I am the best judge of what is right for me and I knew that once I figured it out I would be okay. I went to WorkSource and took the skill-building classes through CBC. I made three valid job searches each week for unemployment. I began to realize that better skills were not enough. I give myself credit for recognizing that once again I was depressed and I sought help.  I am happy to say I am better now. I am now in a place where I feel capable of learning. Without the skill building classes I would not be able to move forward, I would not have known that I can be a good student.

The other area I could work on is finding a motivating purpose. Since I am in the Dislocated Worker program and the Worker Retraining program I am limited to the courses I can take. They have to be "in demand." I let this set me back last fall and left the orientation in tears. When I decided to enroll for winter quarter I was still not excited about the course choices so I sort of just rolled the dice for Business Administration. On paper this did not seem meaningful to me. I didn't feel that I was following my dream, but rather, choosing the only thing on the list that even remotely interested me.

You can probably tell that I am now feeling a little more motivated. I am sure you weren't expecting this mini novella. I love to write. While it is not always easy to come up with the opening line, it is often difficult for me to stop. There are so many thoughts I want to share. Writing is what motivates me. I consider this a good start to my new life path.

Thank you for the opportunity.

Walls and gaps. An oxymoron, or one in the same?

I woke up this morning with the intention of getting on the old PC and trying to work on my FYI class that must be completed by Saturday. I had 7 days and am now down to 5. There are 13 units and I am still on the Unit 1. First of all, this is the worst time of year for more pressure, secondly - I am not sure how to do it. I will figure it out.
I emailed my instructor very early this morning - so when I checked to see if she had replied I found that Goodreads had sent me a note to let me know one of my favorite authors has a new blog post. I have blogged about Dominique Browning before, but now I am not only inspired by her book (and her person)  I am also in love with her blog.

http://www.slowlovelife.com/2011/12/lucking-out-and-gaining-wisdom.html

This is my current favorite quote -


 "I've learned some things I want to share, for anyone who has friends in mourning: be steadfast, be present, be supportive, be kind. That's all.

No one can make the pain go away. Nothing can be said to make it lighter. All anyone can do is to be a gentle, loving, constant companion. Grief plunges the heart into loneliness. Presence helps. Friends don't have to be in the same room--because sometimes human company feels intolerable--but it is possible to be present by phoning, writing, posting, simply reaching out.

All of that compassion twinkles around, like stardust, motes in the gray dust of grief, catching the light of hope."

She has a way of speaking to my heart and writing the way I wish I could write. I thought this morning of loss.  I lost my job. Yes, it is sad, and yes, I am still grieving. But there are so many people in the world, and in my own immediate world specifically, who have lost so much more than I have this year. They have lost children, parents and spouses - some through death and some, a result of disagreements or misunderstandings.

 My sweet husband feels loss like this as one of his own children continues to make bad decisions each day, and with her words and actions is breaking her father's heart. It occurs to me that two things so opposite of each other can cause the same effect - walls and gaps. By putting up walls we lock out people who love us and things that can help us. The same can be said for the great distance created when we stop reaching out and trying to communicate with our friends and family.

 I have been guilty this year - of building my own walls, and making giant gaps to separate myself from others. I know my own loss has made me a little bitter, but also a little better. I guess it was something I had to do on my own. I am trying now, to lay down the walls and use them to fill in the space. I need my friends. 

For my friends and acquaintances who have experienced much greater loss than I have - I am thinking of you. 

I will try to be a compassionate, gentle and loving presence. Whether it be through prayer, emailing, calling or blogging -  I will offer some kind of human interaction. I will look for some stardust and if I am lucky enough to find some for myself, I will share it with others. Maybe together we will begin to see the light of hope.

"Life is just a lot of loose ends."

There are days I feel energized and creative and I think about what I want to do the next day - but the next day there is something more important that I need to do, so the ideas just get pushed aside. We all have those chores we need to do, calls we need to make, naps we should take. I often let it get me down when I think about the things I don't do.  Then I realize that for the most part I am the only one who has these expectations of me. I am the only one who is disappointed and frustrated. These are just loose ends. Everyone has them. I want to bake and sew. I want to write - not the next great novel, just something that pleases me. When you think about the fact that none of us knows what each day will bring it becomes apparent that there will always be loose ends. We create them ourselves and only we can learn to tie the knots. I'm trying to be content with slip knots.