Tag: #dogs

Self Care Sunday

I texted my daughter, “When you walk out of Whole Foods with a French baguette, hearts of Romaine, and Stumptown Chocolate cold brew?” She replied, “Sounds like self-care to me!”

Sunday feels like an appropriate day for self care as it was planned to be. My work doesn’t offer much time off on Sunday, so I’ve been watching for windows of time on Monday or Wednesday. Have to admit though, Self Care Monday doesn’t sound the same! 

Writing is a form of self care because if I see an hour of sacred space opening up, I’m gonna write. I wait for it and start typing. For me, it’s not about finding the time to write, it’s about finding the sacred space. We will make time for what’s important, and writing is like breathing to me. It hasn’t always been that way, but it became that way after clicking publish 100’s of times.

A good gauge for selfcare is my neighbor. The more often I can walk over and spend time with him, the better. If I don’t see him all week, it’s time to look at my week. Sitting with him on his front porch, he took one look at his dog and said, “I’m taking an hour this week just for me.” He gives a lotta love to dogs and they are spoiled, but he knows he needs some time without them.

I was happy to hear him say that.

He knows taking time for himself, even for an hour, will make him a better person to be around. Maybe we can’t take a full day and call it Selfcare Sunday, but we can carve out some time for ourselves when it’s important, and I believe it’s vital.

There are seven days in the week to choose from, so pick one. Name it and claim it as your very own self care Sunday.

Someday’s You’re Living

My daughter backed her Jeep into my truck.

It was my mistake for leaving it sitting there.

I hadn’t pulled all the way into my side of the driveway. My daughter was with me at the time and I was trying to leave her extra room to get out of the truck. The tree branches are taking over. We forgot it was sitting there when she backed out the following morning. 😦

She was upset, but I wasn’t bothered. It hurt her Jeep more than my truck. Her Jeep is relatively new, and Steve, (my truck) is ten years old.

Walking through the house this morning I noticed it’s time to vacuum. I’m pretty sure I just did a couple of days ago. Big white dog is shedding like a mad dog, but you know what?

He’s worth every hair I walk through.

I’ve dropped the ball on a few things this week, but I’m living. Just living life through the bumps, scrapes and vacuum bag full of dog hair.

A few days later, my daughter still felt guilty for backing into my truck. I told her, “I love you more than Steve.” She gasped and asked, “Was that ever in question?” We both laughed, but there was a day, when she was small, that I wouldn’t have driven him until he was fixed.

Leave evidence that someday’s you’re living.