The Extra Mile

Walking to a neighbors house, I saw another neighbor who asked, “Walking down to the lake?” I replied, “No sir, I’m going to get fresh eggs.” He looked rather puzzled and replied, “You need a golf cart to scoot around in. It’s easier.” I just ginned and said, “But Dan, I don’t do easy.” He chuckled.

My daughter brought home flowers and it was the most magical bouquet I’d seen in years. They were freshly cut, wrapped in brown paper and when she handed them to me I could feel the weight of them. There was a florist card laying inside I didn’t recognize, so she went on to reveal the whole story.

She had stopped at the market I frequent for flowers, but didn’t see anything that spoke to her, so on she went to a flower shop she knew I loved. The lady inside told her to walk into the cooler and pick out what she wanted. I can imagine the look on my daughters face walking into a cooler filled with flowers. I’m sure it was overwhelming in the most delightful way.

She chose a few of my utmost favorites. A couple of long-stemmed roses, daylilies, a few gladiolas, and the most ginormous hydrangea blossom known to man. She remembered I like greenery to be used as filler.

She was holding a paper bag from the market as well with chocolate cold brew and Brie en Croute. You see, she just wanted to stop time that day amidst our schedules and celebrate her sober Mom. It was my AA birthday, and I don’t very cry often, but with all of this the tears were near.

I’m sure there’s a much easier way to buy flowers, but my darling, fill it with meaning and go the extra mile.

Feel the Music

Every time I listen to this song, I hear something different, but it holds the same message.

On the dating apps there’s a series of questions some want to go through. I answer them, but find myself not asking many in return. One man even asked, “Do you have any questions for me?” I replied, “Yes. Tell me who you are today.” That helps decide if they get a date.

It’s fun talking with my daughter about dating. She just turned 22, so the guys she’s talking with don’t have much of a past. They have so much life ahead of them to learn from. Some of the men around my age, or older are beat up by their past, and hesitant to try again.

I’m thinking about dating men younger than me, but not as young as my daughter. 🙂 By the age of 45 they’ve lived life, and have at least one divorce under their belt, but still have life in them. They haven’t let their past define them, instead they seem to know…

All the boats I’ve missed
All the hell I’ve caused
All the lips I’ve kissed
All the love I’ve lost
I got kicked around
I’ve been black and blue
On my way to you

If the video doesn’t show up, click here to view.

Missing the Wave

Scrupulous. Intentional. Breathing in moments.

That’s how I envisioned last week would be. Daily life landed me far from the mark, and I missed some moments. One moment in particular hurt my heart a little bit, but sometimes that’s what it takes to snag my attention.

I was working in the yard moving plants as my daughter walked out of the house toward her Jeep. I walk up alongside her, give her a hug, and as she backs out, I stroll over to the pathway of stepping stones in the middle of the yard and wait for her to drive by. Except that day, I had a shovel in my hand and was moving one more plant.

This is something new we began doing this year, and it’s become ritual.

Normally, I stand on the path, wait for her to drive by and give her this wave filled with exuberance, like Miss America after drinking way too much coffee. She waves too, but that day when she drove by, I was in the side yard, so I missed the wave. It’s difficult to know how important something is until it’s missed.

A few days later she was leaving the house and we stepped through our leaving ritual. I suggested when she reached the end of the driveway to turn in the opposite direction and drive by the house one lot over that had been beautifully repainted. She sat there a moment and said, “But if I go that way, I’ll miss the wave.”

I smiled and on que began walking toward the middle of the yard to the path. This time, there was no missing the wave.


There once was a guy who named his dog, ‘Stay.’ When he called him to come the poor dog heard, “Come here, Stay.”

Live a Life of Band-Aids

My new thing is wearing nice clothes when leaving the house, but let’s set the bar. I live in faded, blue jeans and t-shirts, so dressing up means nice jeans, a silk shirt and smart looking shoes. 😉

As mentioned in Feel the Music, my friend and I met for our monthly coffee/tea. I wanted to wear something nice and took time to choose my outfit the evening before. Some of my prettier shirts call for ironing and my people are important enough to use an iron if needed.

When we met, she appreciated my choice in clothing, but there was one small problem. I was wearing the wrong shoes. These shoes were one of my favorite ‘slip on and go’ pair of shoes. I remembered them being comfortable enough to walk in all day long, but it’d been a while since I’d worn them and they were crucifying my feet!

It was all I could do to get back home in them. It was odd how they were once so comfortable, but turned into shoes from the devil himself. Entering the house, I kicked them off with a sigh of relief. This made me wonder what else in my life looked comfortable, but capable of pain.

I sat on the edge of my bed to inspect my foot and a blister had formed above the instep. My daughter stood in the doorway inquiring what happened and I told her about the devilish shoes. She said, “You slap three band-aids on it and keep moving.” It didn’t call for three, but I did slap a band-aid on it to continue stepping through life.

Keep living life my darlin’. Stock up on band aides.

“God will take care of what you go through. You take care of how you go through it.”

Zig Ziglar

These Two Chairs

We have thought about buying a couch for as long as we’ve lived here.

I spent time cleaning over the weekend, and then did some rearranging of the den. As I was moving furniture around, I remembered the couch sitting here the first time we saw this house. It sat right underneath the window sill, and ran the length of the wall. Three years later, we still haven’t bought a couch. 😂

Sitting at the coffee table this morning, I looked across the table at her chair. It was empty. She is out, living her life, which I want her to do. She called and was excited about new tires for her Jeep. Her father took her tire shopping, and I sat and listened as she described every detail. That’s my girl excited about tires!

The main reason we haven’t bought a couch is these two chairs. They were designed and made around 15 years ago, for a formal living room which you can read about here. They are extra wide and the cushions are stuffed with down, so you can curl up and never leave. If we get a couch, they will have to go into storage, because neither of us can part with them.

These two chairs have held us up during every ‘love of my life’ breakup. They are wide enough to hold a box of tissues and a blanket. The fabric is formal, so I looked into having them recovered, and because they are so well made, the estimate started at $800 per chair. New fabric is not in their future.

Nowadays, her chair is empty more often than not, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Through the years, the one place we always go to be seen and supported is these two chairs.

Feel The Music

I heard this song last Sunday, and began composing a post after publishing To Be Seen. Unfortunately, I’ve been messing with it every day this week up until the final moment of it’s scheduled publish.

I shared this song with my daughter and told her it’s up next for Feel the Music. It didn’t take her but a moment of listening it to recognize the voice singing is Pink. My favorite part of the song is how she lays down her sword to dive into the pain. I don’t do that nearly often enough, but look forward to the day my sword can retire.

My daughter is my biggest fan, and I’m hers. She is my first like on a post and knows beforehand when one is going to be published. This one was scheduled for 10:00 am, but I haven’t heard from her this morning, so I’ll wait. We always show up for one another, but the timing of our lives doesn’t always align. The timing is not as important as the doing.

If she were here she’d say, ‘Stop rewriting the post!”, but maybe that’s okay. If nothing else she sees that you can rewrite your story down to the very last minute. I do know at some point to stop typing and kick it into cyberspace.

That’s all I know so far.

Let It Bloom

It’s been a life-long love affair with the Hydrangea, but the seasons are changing and it’s going away until Spring. This morning I noticed myself having a bit of trouble letting it go.

My daughter and I were out shopping this week. When I disappeared from view, she knew where to find me. We were near the flower department and there I was staring at the massive bouquet of multicolored Hydrangea. We carried it to the checkout, and when she beeped the bouquet and saw the price, she gave me a surprised look, or maybe it was shock.

I knew better than to meet her gaze and looked away thinking, you only live once. We came home and put them in water.

This morning I walked by the coffee table where they sit. Some of them had drooped overnight, so I grabbed the vase and took it into the kitchen. I laid them out on the cutting board, grabbed a sharp knife and sliced a good chunk of the ends off each stem. I chose a different vase, filled it with cool water and placed them in. They looked pretty sad, but I remained hopeful.

Looking out the window, I saw my neighbors outside, so took a walk around the block for a short visit. There’s nothing like listening to a toddler talk about life. When I returned home, the Hydrangeas were perking up and struggling their best. As I write, all are standing tall and looking refreshed, except for one.

We have a fear of loss and try and fix things to make them last longer. As I saw this one stem not revive itself I thought, well, I can always buy more, but then stopped that thought. It shouldn’t be that easy to replace. I’m just going to let them bloom, stay as long as they wish and move into a new season.

Seasons are temporary and I look forward to seeing the Hydrangea in the spring. Until then, I can have peace in knowing I didn’t try to make it stay. All I did was let it bloom.

Mama Knew Best

Harnessing a good night’s sleep became a priority. I took it for granted, by assuming going to bed at night meant sleep.

One night I was watching a show on my laptop in bed. An advertisement came on of an ‘All Natural Sleep Aid’, and it was safe for children. I thought how fitting being advertised here, but we probably wouldn’t need it if it wasn’t for online viewing. The sad part for me is they targeted children.

How not to get a good night’s sleep. Photo by Ludovic Toinel on Unsplash

Growing up, I never viewed TV in the bedroom. It was a family affair where we all sat in the den and watched something together. It was a big night if we got popcorn and could sit with our drinks in the den. There was only one TV, in black and white, with no remote. (Telling my age) It was literally a box with legs sitting in the room’s corner.

Mama turned it off at a certain time for all 4 of us to get ready for bed, but I knew Twilight Zone came on at 11:00 pm. That was the scariest show on TV in my day, which is lame compared to now. After everyone had gone to bed and the house was still, I tip-toed into the den in time for Twilight Zone and clicked on the TV.

I sat on the floor as close to the TV as I could get, to keep the volume low, but still hear it. You’ve probably already guessed; I didn’t get away with this. Mama got up to check that we were asleep and saw the glow of the TV screen. I don’t know which was worse, getting caught by Mama, or being scared shitless by watching The Twilight Zone at a young, impressionable age.

It’s hard for me to watch scary or intense shows before bed, so I choose a calm one. It helps to stop watching shows in bed altogether. If there’s something I want to watch, I sit in the den, or at the kitchen table to enjoy, but I’m mindful to shut it down at a reasonable hour. I want my bedroom to be a haven for sleep. It loses that peaceful aura when I walk in with a laptop.

Maybe it’s offended.

Our Munchkin cat ‘Chombus’ has no problem sleeping on my daughter’s bed.

The bedroom is designed for peaceful slumber. I’m finding instances in my life where once again, Mama knew best.

This is Part Three of how I achieved a good night sleep. Part One is A Good Night’s Sleep, Part Two is Know Your Flow.

Faith than Fear

To be a Badass woman, you gotta have a mentor. Another badass woman.

My friend sent me this meme this morning. It was in her FB memories, and I had tagged her on it two years ago. Today she returned it and it’s just what I needed to see.

blossoming

This is the same friend I meet for coffee when time allows. I wrote about her in Women Like Us. I aspire to be her level of badass. The words that jumped out at me this morning were, ‘more faith than fear.’

It’s as simple as that.

My daughter is home from England.

She flew there March 11th and three days later, all flights were canceled. It would have been easy to let fear creep in, but I’m too stubborn for that. My Mama was a badass woman and she raised one.

I had faith my daughter would return home eventually, but with each passing day I didn’t see any indication from the airlines. That is when my talks with God became more ‘high spirited’ and I laid all that fear at His feet. My fear was overcome by faith.

When my daughter’s text came in that said, “Virgin is still operational, I’ll be home tomorrow night.’, I burst into tears!

The tears were a combination of relief and joy. I knew God had heard me and He knew I couldn’t take much more. I reached out to my friend and asked her to ‘pray that girl home with me’, and she jumped on it. I’m grateful to all of you for praying.

Thank you my friend for reminding me to continue blossoming into a Badass woman with more faith than fear.