Moving Day!

In a few hours I will be moving from our little home on the park and getting ready to unpack the boxes in our new home. It is only up the street still walking distance of the children’s school and close to the friends that I have made throughout the past four years.  But it was a time for a change!

My husband drove by the open house with curiosity only a month ago as he did the walk – thru and called me to come see it! It was with hesitation I went to take a gander not ready to make promises.

We had been driving to other communities looking at the brand new show homes but the one thing they lacked was the community.I want my kids to grow in the community they know and prevent them from changing schools every three years.

So when I walked through this house I knew the price was right and it would keep me in the community that I have grown to love. My husband and I knew the obvious answer as we discussed it over coffee that this would be our house for the rest of our time we planned to spend in this city.

So in the morning light when I pick-up the keys to our new home I will dance with excitement for the wide open spaces. But in my heart I know I will miss my home that started it all! I will remember looking over the park where the kids would play,  the knocks on the doors from the neighbors kids, and look back on the tender moments that we shared in our special home.

It is this house on the park is one of the few that we have lived in as a family but it is another chapter full of beautiful memories.

 Do you have a special home that remains close to your heart?

The Fragrant Ritual of Comfort

Hair it is a part of who we are and our identity. It aggravates us, comforts us, and sometimes shields us from the elements. It is after one of those days  I look forward to is stepping into a steamy shower and washing my hair.

The few minutes in the shower is my own time to clear my thoughts, relax my muscles, and wash away the negativity of  the day. I look forward to lathering the shampoo into my hair and inhaling the fragrant scent  that wraps its blanket around me with comfort.

I then wait letting the conditioner repair and untangle the wavy mess that is my hair. It is by untangling the mess with ease which  gives me a small sense of control in the tornado that has swept through my day.

It is in that silent moment I stretch and breath trying to regain a minute of clarity. As the moment passes I slowly rinse with my thoughts running forward thinking tomorrow will be a much better day.

I know in the next wild moments of life when my hair is blowing in the wind and there is no answers that I will get a  fragrant scent that sweeps across my face.  It is that scent that comforts me and lets me know it will all be okay.

Do you have a small step in your daily routine to help shift the perspective of your day?

The Sound of Silence

We went for a hike along The Hayburger Trail  and on our journey we came across an open meadow full of warmth that invited us in for a rest. We stopped in the middle and admired its beauty.

My husband told my children , “Be very quiet! Lets stand still for five minutes  and see what animals will appear.”

We all stood back to back looking out across the field a butterfly first greeted us, and then a lovely song from a bird filled the field with serenity. We all stood waiting, watching, and enjoying the peaceful moment.

It was that special moment my family and I  stood connected in silence looking out into the wilderness. We watched and waited but no animals appeared in our midst.

As we broke our silence we turned to face each other, looked each other in the eye, and looked down. We all burst out in laughter as we realized we had circled a large pile of bison dung in our silence. If any one of us had moved back on step we would be bringing a small treasure home with us on  the bottom of our shoe.

It was the perfect Sunday to revel in nature’s serene beauty and laugh a little along the way.

How do you enjoy the silence? Do you find peace in nature?

The Unknown Road

[T.  of "As Long  as I'm Singing" a rock n' roller with a good sense of humor who embraces his faith recently confessed he talks to his blog. It was a great relief to me that I was not the only one! T. asks "Would your life be any different, fundamentally, if you were the opposite sex of the one you are now?"]

As I look at the dishes in the kitchen, the garden that needs tending, and  the laundry piled in the basement. I sit and attempt to focus on my computer screen as two little widgets run about around the table, “Mom! Can we have a snack!”

I graciously grab the snack, send them outside, and try to regain my thoughts!  I sigh, where  was I going? Who am I? What would life be if I were a man? 

I reflect back, think of my early twenties, and retreat to my shelf examining the beat – up copy of Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac. As  I gaze at the cover I dream I was traveling the open road with my knap sack never knowing the adventure that rambled around the corner.

Now that was the life and that was a man. If I was a man Dharma Bums would have been my bible. I would be the man without responsibility traveling down the unknown road.

I would rely only on my knapsack, a journal, and life free of responsibility. My quest to search for meaning, listening to jazz, and meeting a motley crew of characters along the way.

However, as a woman the freedom to hitchhike or hop a train eludes me.  The freedom of living the life carefree without concern of security, roaming the earth, and enjoying the fine mountain grass evades my presence.

It is the now that I look at the messy house, the weedy garden, and look to my children. I have a home full of warmth and love. It is this security that surrounds me with a warm  blanket.

It might not be the freedom of the open road but it keeps me grounded.  It is by staying grounded I learn that  life is about how you live it and embrace it. The open road will always be there to roam, characters will come and go, but to me there truly is no place like home.

Do you long for the open road? Or do believe there is no place like home?

The One with the Peanut on Top

[Tilly Bud The Laughing Housewife serves up a silver lining with her daily humor. Can you believe she schedules her posts three times a day?  I wish I had that dedication! She asks "If you were only allowed to write about one thing i.e. your blog had to have just one topic, what would it be?"]

I have an addiction to Peanut Butter I love it in the morning, love in the evening, and even in the afternoon. It compliments my beverage of choice whether it  be milk, coffee, tea, wine, or beer. It offers me comfort on a dark day. And happiness on a good one. It is the one thing in my cupboard that I can depend on when there is nothing to eat. Peanut butter in a word is my true love.

My addiction came about the time I was seven! It was around the same time the ad for Squirrel Peanut Butter invaded the TV waves with the slogan the one with the peanut on top.

Everytime my mother would bring home a new container of peanut butter I had to be the first to have the peanut on top!

Sometimes my oldest sister would torment me with the fact that she had to have the peanut  “It wasn’t fair that I got it all the time.”Looking back she was fourteen and I was seven – I think she could have forgone the peanut.

My mother to keep the peace and tired of teenage hormones would scold me to ask first before taking it with the unpleasant reminder that it was very rude not to share the peanut. I would then be sent to my room to think about my perilous mistake!

Of course, how could one peanut cause such a ruckus? I’ll never know…But I do know I take comfort in a peanut butter sandwich or cookie any day over a peanut!

If there was one food you had to blog about what would it be?

Can Patron Saint Joseph Help Sell Your Home?

Our first home was a small little spot in the middle of nowhere we had the quiet visits of deer, moose, and the occasional bear. It was the perfect beginning to our young little family. Two bedrooms seemed spacious enough for three but with the arrival of our second child I was ready to move into town.I wanted to enjoy the luxury of spacious and convenient living.

Sadly, due to an undesirable location for the rest of the planet, two bedrooms, and a bear trap in the front yard had made our little love nest an inconvenience to sell. That is until my superstitious mother stepped in with a solution.

She handed me a statue of the Patron Saint Joseph.

“My friend told me to bury this in your backyard and your house will sell quicker.”

I looked at her sleep deprived and wondering what she was holding, “What? What is that?”

“It’s the Patron Saint Joseph. Just bury it in the yard.”

I took it and buried it in the cupboard. Completely forgetting of its existence until her next visit. She found it in the back of my cupboard searching for the tea.

“You didn’t bury this yet?”

“No! No! I didn’t!”

She looked at me, “Humph! No wonder your house will never sell!”

It’s with that I sighed and grabbed my darling three-year old to teach him a lesson in superstitions. We walked out the backdoor with one Hail Mary we took sweet Joseph and  buried him deep into the recesses of the ground.

It was at this point in my life I had two little ones under the age of three, a husband on the road for work, and a need of a weekly break to regain some form of sanity. My babysitter was a saving grace, a saint, the one rescue from the toils of spit and soiled diapers.

It was one afternoon I came home from a glorious afternoon of peace and coffee to discover my babysitter had dug out dear Saint Joseph from the backyard.

“We were playing in the backyard. Your son just started digging and kept saying he was looking for his buried treasure. Where did it come from?”

As she held the dear Saint Joseph in her hand with a perplexed look on her face – all I could do was lie. Yes! I lied out of fear of losing my babysitter! How would you react to a poorly dress woman with black circles under her eyes admitting “Yes! I did bury Saint Joseph in my back yard in order for my home to sell!”

It was with wise maneuvering and fear of judgement I did not come clean. Instead I looked at the statue, I looked at my sitter’s angelic and inquisitive face and replied , “I have no idea where that came from – Isn’t that bizarre!”

It was with that my babysitter left my home  befuddled with so many questions on her mind…

Have you ever fibbed out of fear of judgement?

My Saggy Bits List


I know I need to eat healthy, workout, and live a balanced life. Maybe it’s the change in the moon because I feel like Howling every time I read “You Know Your Ready When to Lose Weight”  or “How to Drop Ten Pounds in a Month.” I mean really do I need to look at another air brushed super model.

So my muffin tops and I made our own list in retaliation of this healthy feel good wellness business! It’s called My Saggy Bits List….

1) I did purchase a cheap cotton shirt and yes it did shrink in the dryer! My muffin top has not expanded!

2) I do not like Green Smoothies. No matter how you spin it. I do not love them. I would much rather eat salad for breakfast!

3) Spanx was created for muffin tops.  Enjoy it’s sausage encasing glory and strut those skinny jeans!

4) LuluLemon only has sales for size 2′s! And it’s annoying! Why does size 2 always get all the glory and the savings?

5) My thighs rub together! Isn’t that suppose to be normal?

6) One cookie a day keeps me happy.

7) Water! Water with lemon! Water with berry infused flavors!  Sometimes I just want a frickin coke!

8) I  have a fear if I keep digesting the chia seed my bowel movements may morph  into a chia pet.

9) A jelly doughnut is heaven on a cloudy and cold wet day.

10) My latest running catastrophe involved tripping over a tree root  and having some one on one intimate attention with the dirty ground. Where is the fitness glory in that tale? Sometime it’s best just to stay home and watch the View.

Now that I have vented, hammered my scale, I’m beginning to feel much better. I think I will go eat my celery stick with goat cheese.  It tastes so much better than the salty scrumptious goodness of chips.

Is there anything you would like to add to the list? I don’t want to be the only one that vents….

Dance Each Day Like Our Last

I was in a hospital bed in India was very sick, dehydrated, and hooked-up to an IV. It was around six in the morning the nurse with big brown eyes who spoke no English rustled me out of my deep sweaty sleep. She handed me the Hindustan Times, and I pushed it away.

by Elizabeth Brandon

It was so tired, so sick, I just wanted to sleep. She rustled me again, her eyes were urgent, and forced the front page into my hands. I abruptly awoke, my stomach, went queasy. This didn’t happen there must be some kind of mistake…

I glanced at the paper, my heart sank, as I looked at the crumbling towers. How could this happen? All I wanted to do was contact my family, get out of the hospital bed, and see my  work mates. I felt a rush of panic and dizziness – how could something like this happen?

The next month we were glued to the TV screens watching every tidbit of news from CNN, Star TV, and BBC. Each had their own perspective of what happened and would happen next.

It was in October the day the US invaded Afghanistan. I treated it like any other work day put on my work clothes and went to the office. My colleague and I were meeting with the  CEO of the business we were consulting and placing a request for better working conditions for his employees. He looked at us and said, ” I’m in no mood today. I have family in Afghanistan.”

You could see the pain in his eyes and the weight on his shoulders. It is there memories of what I remember from that fateful day of the invasion of Afghanistan and the months that trudged into the lion’s den.

My perspective of terrorism changed as we  sat in a political hot bed we were told  we were possible targets white and North American is was wise to not to go into Old Delhi under any circumstances. We were to be cautious at all times whether were in Market places or traveling to any destinations deemed safe.

In December just before Christmas Vacation the Indian Parliament only twenty minutes from where I lived was stormed by Pakistani Terrorists. I remember walking into the office, everyone pale, wondering  when would be the next attack and would India retaliate on its northern neighbors.

On Christmas Vacation my husband and I backpacked throughout Rajasthan. I remember looking out at the vast landscape, the road ways, and  watching the Indian tanks move to defends it borders. We looked at each other and attempted to guess the news of the day.

It was the next morning I sipped my coffee and inspected the news in the internet cafe. Only to discover our next travel destination had a detour there would be no camel safari in Jesselmer as long as there was fighting and gun shots along the border.

Our travel plans derailed we spent extra time in Udaipur. It was on New Years Eve  on the hostel roof top we danced under the stars with all of the hostel workers as well a motley crew of dirty backpacker’s one Israeli, a couple of Aussies, and a few Germans. It was that night we danced to the beat of the music with merriment we did the light bulb, we laughed, and we rang in the New Year of 2002 with hope for a better future.

9/11 shaped the globalized community and changed all of our worlds on that fateful day. Terrorism has changed the way we travel and the way we think about our world. The crumbling of the towers, the loss of life, still makes me sick to my stomach. If we are ever to defeat the chaos  terrorism has inflicted on our psyche it is by  showing no fear and living each day like it is our last.

How has 9/11 changed the way you view the world?

If You Want…

If you want to sing out! It’s the anthem of hope, optimism the one song we can sing to our children in a lullaby. But somewhere something happens. Do we forget to sing out?

It’s in the cult classic Harold and Maude we see the angst of youth meet the strength of age and wisdom. It’s what Harold learns from Maude that teaches him in order to survive it’s okay to escape pretensions and live your life to the fullest.

As we age do we lose that youthful optimism somewhere in adulthood or does it still in linger in us? How do you maintain your youthful spirit? Is there a song you return to for hope?

The Return of the Laundry Monster

I walked into the laundry room and was struck by the mountain that was before my very eyes.  I exclaimed,

“Dear God! Why?”

He did not answer as my leg was trapped in the pile of dirty clothes. The smelly socks pulled me down, the coffee stained shirt attempted to smother me, and the grass stained jeans wrapped itself around my hands.

There was no escape! The Monster had  returned to terrorize my laundry room. It grew as I felt like I was sinking into the depths of Mount Kilimanjaro. Just when I thought I had tamed the smelly beast! It had Returned to torture me once more on my leisurely Sunday afternoon!

I wondered what did I do to deserve this? I went through my list of bad things I did this week and the worse of my crimes was the middle finger to the old man who cut me off in traffic. It was just too much! I turned on the washing machine, tackled the pile with my shovel, my arms grew weary, but at last I was making a dent into the untamed beast.

A small enough dent that it was safe to shut the door! Only to discover an hour later as I peeked around the corner that it had grown again and the monster had returned to its previous hazardous self!

Has the laundry monster invaded your home? How do you deal with its return?

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,968 other followers