Winter is drawing to a close. In a little more than two weeks, spring will make its official entry. There’s something about the arrival of March that always makes me run out of patience with the cold. I feel a strange mix inside. I suppose you could say I’m cranky with a dusting of hope.
Spring is teasing us and still, I look at my list of winter “to-dos” and heave a sigh. I was to have organized my upstairs after I’d put away Christmas stuff, sort through and re-organize my kitchen cabinets, update my addresses and contact info, sort and dispose of excess “fluff & stuff” and reward myself by getting some scrapbooking done.
I haven’t made much headway in any of these areas. Now, tax preparation looms. I wish I could feel as though I’ve finished at least some of these categories so that I can stand back, rest my hands on my hips, heave a satisfactory sigh and say, “There now!”
(I just sighed, but it was the wrong kind.)
Now, I have to remind myself that I’ve recently turned in a huge edit for the first book in the “Morgan’s Landing” series and I spend four days a week playing/feeding/changing/snuggling/crafting with Lil’ Snookie and Fruity Pebbles. A frantic portion of this is spent as referee between Fruity Pebbles and Phoebe June. The former considers the latter the most marvelous creature ever to behold and makes every effort to share an embrace. (Not that Phoebe June doesn’t share the opinion as to her marvelousness – she just doesn’t want it embraced.) Somewhere in between the cracks, I manage to cook all our meals from scratch, prepare and coach my weekly Trim Healthy group, organize and help host all our church’s dinners, do the shopping, laundry, cleaning and get a weight-lifting workout in most days.
You know something? I started out feeling like winter had passed and I’d been a failure in even scratching the surface, but now, as I make my true confessions to you, I’m starting to feel pretty good about the whole thing! These last months weren’t perfect, and I doubt the ones ahead will be perfect – but I’ll do what I can with God’s help.
I look around my chaotic office/library/craft room and see that much has been done and much is left to do. I make myself a promise. I won’t strive for perfection, but I will tell myself the same thing I whisper as I climb on those machines at the gym – “I can do better.” Progress, though it be made in baby steps, is far less daunting than perfection.
Golly, how I wish I had a higher gear! Alas, I have only one gear and I’m already running in it.
There are times when I look around and ask myself if any of it matters and for a fleeting moment I hanker for a dumpster.
Paper is my nemesis. But…I am a writer. Ummm…
Then, I remember this. There are two dates on every gravestone and though they may be forgotten, the dash between them is what counts. People will remember you for your dash!
We do leave a legacy in many ways – in the hearts and minds of our children, in what we build in our communities and in the lives of others, and in the stories that connect us to our heritage.
This house holds a lot of heritage.
Once while sorting my office piles, I found a slip of paper upon which I’d written a quote attributed to Joseph Garlington. I hope it puts things into perspective for you as it does for me.
I took this photo several years ago as I drove through the countryside on my way to meet Phoebe June. I pulled over to take photos of a sky such as I’d never seen before.
Under a wide-open Heaven, life is given to me to live each day in this strange place called Earth and I’m determined to thrive down here. I may not be able to make it perfect, but bit by bit, I can make it better, even if it’s something as simple as encouraging a friend or cleaning out files.
The heavens are open and as we step out of winter and the sunshine and warmth break through, there will be days full of surprises and days filled with mundane things. I pray the mundane things bring you stability and peace and that all your surprises are good ones. If last year was a “dud”, don’t lose heart. Take God’s hand and move forward into new territory and happier days.
You may be grieving the events of these past months. Take your time and heal. You may spend a part or all of the year in a waiting mode. (I hear ‘ya as I await the book release and the progress reports on its screenplay.) You may go on happily as you have been or you may step into a new adventure as God opens a door and you receive the answer to a prayer that you feel like you’ve spent a lifetime lifting up before the Lord!
Leave a comment! Are things better – even just a little bit – in your earthly experience? I’d love to hear what you’ve done this winter (I’ll even listen to your fails) and what you plan spring!
I’m always seeking out ways to thrive, not just survive. I have to confess that it’s been a weird struggle lately. Just weird. Life this year has felt much like it might be to find yourself gripped to a pendulum that swings first one way and then the other.
This year seems to have had a few themes and some of them weren’t much fun. We called it the year of the breakdown. Things just kept quitting on us. At one point we had both our daily drivers, the work van and the classic Buick Super all undriveable and once. Then, we dealt with clogged sewer lines and a toilet that actually broke. I wish now that I’d kept track of all the small appliances, gadgets and the like that I had to drop into the trash can. The clothes dryer tried it’s best to leave us, but Smuffy got it fixed. This only angered the washer, which threw an apoplectic fit and never recovered. Smuffy needed a few repairs also. That wasn’t fun, but he’s recovered just fine.
But what did it all matter? We got our second grandbaby! Fruity Pebbles is a joyful handful. Lil’ Snookie has been a joy and he’s now just turned five years old. Things are going well with “Morgan’s Landing”, my novel series, and Book 1 is due to come out in early 2025. To top it all off, award-winning Hollywood screenwriter, Alan Roth, offered to write a screenplay for a series based on “Morgan’s Landing”! It’s now finished and on the market. Seven well-known producers are taking a look at it and as of right now, five have asked to review the entire book as well. The pendulum does swing, doesn’t it?
This also seemed to be the year of the funeral. We saw close friends lose parents. We lost cousins. We lost multiple folks that we’d shared community and church life with. Some of them seemed to mark the end of an era. You know what I mean – those rock solid old folks whom, despite their years, you half expected them to live forever. Smuffy lost one of his brothers who had suffered a lingering illness and we experienced the pain of losing our 27-year-old niece following an auto accident. We just hung on while the pendulum swung.
Yet, we laughed, we celebrated birthdays and holidays and gave thanks for every treasured face that remained. We prayed. We worked. We did all the mundane things that take up so much of life.
As I felt the pendulum swinging, I would pause at times and tell God how grateful I felt for everything I had been given – been allowed to keep – been blessed with unexpectedly. Still, I struggled. I felt my stress level rising. I felt there weren’t enough hours in the day and not enough of me to to around. I had multiple melt-downs and some of them weren’t pretty.
I do my best each week to listen or watch The Poddy (the podcast featuring Pearl Barrett and Serene Allison of Trim Healthy Mama). It has solid, balanced health information, but topics can vary. Last week, as I listened, they discussed how practicing gratitude can boost your physical and mental health. One particular thing Pearl shared was that, while listening to another podcast, she’d been stuck by the lady’s testimony that though she’d often stopped and made note of things she was grateful for, she felt the Lord asking her when she was going to start to walk in gratitude. There is a difference! I encourage you to watch this podcast. (You’ll have a few minutes of info on their new book and banter at the beginning amongst the two sisters and their announcer, Danny, before they get to the meat of the thing.)
I had been feeling for a week or so that God was giving me peace and lightening my stress load even though I still had just as much on my to-do list as ever. As I watched this Poddy, however, I really stepped into a new place of calm. Rather than nudging myself from time to time to stop and thank God for what I do have or reprimand myself with a “look at your life – you don’t have anything to complain about” or an “it could be a whole lot worse”, I felt a whole new sense of connecting with the Giver and walking through life as though I’m weaving my way through and around all the gifts – simply wading in them.
I suppose this includes this mess on my desk and this book edit I need to finalize. Yes!
If this year has been “one of those years”, I encourage you to round it out with gratitude before starting the new one. I saw a great idea on social media. Take a big jar and keep a stack of little notes nearby. Each day or each week, every family member makes a note with the date and writes down the most fabulous thing that happened that day or week. At the end of next year, dump them all out on the table and have a Gratitude Fest while you read them all. Is there a better way to party on New Year’s Eve?
And so it goes on – winter. The cold and snow can keep you homebound. Gray skies, when they don’t get the memo that enough is enough, can make you gloomy. Christmas is over and sparkly decorations are put away. Every other week it seems some new strain of crud is going around and doing its best to cancel events or make you wish they were canceled.
Then, those post-holiday bills arrive to remind us once again that next year the spending limit ought to be reduced. Boosted by this bit of cheer, you hop online and print out your tax forms. Since you haven’t filled them out yet, you try to bask in a little ray of sunshine with the optimistic thought that perhaps, this time, Uncle Sam may have caught on to the idea that it is more blessed to give than to receive.
Around here, Smuffy has always been the one to see the glass as half empty while I typically view it as half-full. I have to admit, though, that gray days spent with tax forms can take their toll on me. Sometimes, you just need a reminder or a little jolt to alter your outlook. I got one last week.
As is my habit, I watched the Trim Healthy Podcast (affectionately referred to by us THMers as “The Poddy”) on YouTube. Sometimes it’s full of rock-solid science to boost your health and well-being. Sometimes, it’s full of rabbit trails that provide the silliness that you may be lacking in your life and sometimes it provides a level of encouragement that will rock your world.
I love it when there’s science behind encouraging things! Near the beginning of the podcast, Serene shared that studies have shown that in order to create a synapse in the brain where you know a thing – really know it and you’re not going to forget it – it takes 400 repetitions of the information. However, if you are laughing and playing while learning it, the process only requires 12 repetitions! P-L-A-Y is the four-letter word that can change everything. They went on to share many ways their mom incorporated play and ways they feel like they’ve lost their sense of play and want to get it back again.
Just think of it – how many times did you labor over those multiplication tables until they finally got in your head, but then heard some silly TV theme song around that same age only a handful of times, yet you can still sing it word-for-word today? Are you maybe just a bit too grown up for your own good?
Why do you consider cleaning house or preparing meals for your family some type of drudgery when, as a child, you had hours and hours of fun with a toy cooking set and thought it was great when you got your own little broom and dustpan for Christmas or birthday. I think of our Lil’ Snookie and his love affair with all things lawn care. His excitement over toy mowers, leaf blowers and weed eaters knows no bounds and his mommy and daddy will be delighted if this attitude continues for many more years!
Smuffy and I discussed the podcast and agreed that we needed to tackle all the everyday stuff with an attitude of fun and play. It takes a little effort at times. He’s been having his share of issues lately that all seem to revolve around vehicles needing repair and I am in the middle of edits on the first novel in my upcoming series. We’re trying to remind each other that we’re having fun.
Some days you succeed. Some days you don’t. After a mad search through a cupboard the other day that resulted in what sounded like three quarters of the contents landing on the floor, he finally found what he’d been looking for, but looked a bit out of sorts when he came into the room where I sat. I tried to remind him that not only did he find it, but he had fun looking for it. He promptly informed me that he did not have fun looking for it. But we did laugh.
Famous industrial engineer and efficiency expert, Frank Bunker Gilbreath, always thought of innovative ways to help his twelve children learn. The family always rented the same big, old lighthouse for summer vacations and no one really cared whether it was kept pristine. He would write all over the walls in Morse code and tell his children to figure out what the messages said. He would likely have been a frustrated teacher if he had not written such things as, “The candy bar is in the top left desk drawer.” In no time at all his children were challenging themselves to learn the code because they never knew what fun or prize might be in store.
Lil’ Snookie’s presence is a great reminder for us to P-L-A-Y! You can see in the top photo that he’s excited about putting on the apron over his jammies and fixing food for everybody! Give him a watering can and he’ll do his best, even if in reality he’s about a thousand cans short. The middle photo was more of a safari (apologies for quality as I snapped it through the porch screen). He asked if he could go out in the yard because he wanted to find a big stick and look for a lizard hole, after which he would insert the stick and then bend down over the hole and shout, “Hallooooo!” Someday, he may consider that to be frustrating or fruitless, especially if the lizard doesn’t answer, but right now, it’s P-L-A-Y!
I’ve learned to approach cooking healthy meals for my family with a sense of learning, adventure and play. It has made all the difference! Now, I just need to find out how to play with these tax forms.
If it’s snowy, make snow angels or at least watch someone else doing it. Put out some cute decorations for winter or Valentine’s Day, or start making homemade Valentines now. If the day is gloomy, try new soup recipes, play games with the kiddos or watch a funny movie. Call a friend who’s recovering from the crud and spread some cheer. Challenge yourself to cranking out those tax forms with some fun reward when it’s all over.
Now, didn’t that “Help”? Let’s push on with better grammar…
I fully disclose that as a Certified Lifestyle CoachI do, at times, receive monetary compensation as such. See The Fine Print on the “About Me” page of this blog.
I first shared these thoughts a few years ago, but I’ve decided it’s time to revisit this bit of common sense and encouragement.
I first thought to name this page of my blog “Stayin’ Alive!” Love those Bee Gees! Besides, if one doesn’t accomplish at least this much in regards to one’s health, all other attempts are pretty much useless, if you get my drift.
I soon ditched that idea. There’s more to life than stayin’ alive! What’s the point of being here if your quality of life stinks? I decided on “Thrive!”
I got serious about my health during pregnancy. Up until that point, I’d stuck strictly to the See Food Diet. If I saw it, I ate it. Tall and slim, it never seemed to affect me. My dad once told me, as he watched me eat, that someday I’d stop growing up and start growing out and then be sorry about my appetite! I ate three square meals a day – big ones! No one had better leave a box of doughnuts anywhere near me.
But now, I knew that whatever I fed myself, I also fed the baby. Yikes! I spent a lot of time at the library. The baby came (all eight pounds and three ounces of her) along with an epiphany. I needed to keep her healthy till adulthood. And, (DUH!) why feed my child one way and myself another? The adult population seemed to be made up of a bunch of sick people, anyway.
I recently read of an umbilical cord study which showed that a couple of hundred toxins were detected in the cords and the samples were not taken from moms who were addicted to drugs or alcohol or had experienced anything most people would consider hazardous. They were only moms who used foods, shampoos and body products that most in our society walk into stores and buy without batting an eyelash.
Take a look at this photo. Note your first impression.
That’s the image that came to me. We can’t run on bad fuel! Yet, we live in a country where no one seems to grasp the concept. Or, if they do, they don’t care!
Can you imagine? Your friend Gwendolyn tells you that she hates the smell of gasoline, dislikes waiting in line at the service station and once even dribbled gasoline into her brand new shoes. She’s switching. From now on, she’ll run her car on lemonade. She likes lemonade. Tastes better, smells better and isn’t quite so icky between the toes.
You stifle a snort of laughter and get down to business. Somebody’s gotta talk Gwennie out of this madness. Doesn’t she know she’ll ruin a valuable machine with a crazy notion like that?
Gwendolyn won’t listen. Her plan is good for her, she insists. She leaves. You call several friends. After howling with laughter over Gwendolyn’s stupidity, some compassionate soul in the group says, “Listen! Don’t you think we ought to call her mother or somebody? I mean, somebody’s gotta stop her!”
I gave myself a “talkin’ to”. It went something like this: “You are kind to yourself. You are smart enough to learn. You are important to your family and you need to be the best you can be.”
Poor Smuffy went kicking and screaming all the way, suffering through strange herbs drying on the kitchen counter, whole wheat everything and tinctures galore. He told me once that the thing that kept him healthy was positive confession. Each time he’d cough or sniffle, I’d come running with some form of what he termed “stump water” and he’d call out, “I’m okay. I’m OKAY!”
Despite my efforts, I got that call from the doctor nobody wants – a cancer diagnosis. I’d studied various aspects of health, but hadn’t paid much attention to what may open the doors to cancer. I had no family history and besides, I ate good stuff! With my terrific appetite, I ate the good stuff and had room left over for some of the bad stuff.
People told me I was too young for cancer. I asked myself, “How old is old enough?” The answer, I concluded, was NEVER! After surgery, I endured chemo and radiation as “insurance”, more or less, according to the doctors. I’m sure there will be a future blog post on that nasty little interlude.
People like me are called “survivors”. I rejected that term from the beginning. It left me with an image of someone emerging from a jungle – burned, bitten, half-naked and hunted – running for a lifeboat that may or may not spring a leak. By the grace of God, I’m a WINNER! I am kind to myself. I am smart enough to learn. I am important to God and my family! I’m going to thrive!
I’ve learned much over the years, and it has turned my health around. In blog posts here on my Food Freedom page, you’ll be receiving a lot of great health information to chew on so that you can make your own decisions and take charge of your health. I am not your doctor and don’t pretend to be, but only hope to share helpful information. You’re smart enough to do your own research. You may see a few posts with some foods that contain ingredients that I’ve eliminated from my diet as I’ve grown wiser and learned what the real “frankenfoods” are. I’ll be editing those to help you out as much as I can.
So…about your reaction to the photo. Did you want to scream, “Stop, you idiot!”? Yet, we, almost never stop friends when it comes to food. Cars can be replaced. You only get one body. Why treat the finest, most intricately-designed, valuable piece of machinery ever invented – the human body – as though it were disposable?
Since the purpose of Midwest Storyteller is to take you to a better place, I want to share what I did as a first step. I gave up soda. Why pollute my body with a non-food item? A sugary soda has as many calories as a full meal. (Sorry, but I’d rather have food.) Artificially sweetened, it’s dangerous stuff, and I want to thrive! It’s been decades since I’ve had a soda. I don’t miss it. I do enjoy, however, Stayin’ Alive!
Americans have a big problem. Take a look at this aisle in my local grocery store.
That’s an entire aisle! All soda! They don’t devote this much space to bread, meat, cheese, etc. Yes, America has a problem, but you don’t have to. We can’t fuel up on junk because we feel like it or because, like Mount Everest, it’s there. We are as capable of making the right choices with our bodies as we are with our cars.
Okay, enough tough love. I believe in you. You are kind to yourself. You are smart enough to listen to the “real you”. You are important to God and your family.
You are also strong! Here’s the challenge: Choose one thing – just one – and take that step. Stick with it for thirty days. Whether it is to give up soda, lay off the sugar, exercise for 20-30 minutes three times a week or get more sleep, you can do it! (That last one is a personal struggle of mine if you came here for true confessions.)
Since I first shared this idea with you, I’ve been introduced to the common sense, sustainable world of Trim Healthy Mama. After a couple of years reveling in not having to exclude any food groups (except for “frankenfood”), enjoying hearty fat-based meals, satisfying my muscles and hormones with carb-based meals and learning how to make yummy desserts while kicking sugar to the curb, I became a Certified Lifestyle Coach. Ooh, did I mention that I lost that last annoying ten pounds I thought I’d never lose without constantly listening to my tummy growl? The Trim Healthy lifestyle is something you can definitely do all on your own and I’d recommend that you start with the book, The Trim Healthy Mama Plan and begin your journey. It’s written so anyone can understand the science of “why” and without that, we all lose motivation.
If you do decide you’re better off not going it alone, contact me. I’m happy to coach you privately in person or by phone and if you’re within driving distance at our local weekly group sessions.
Comment, letting me know you’ve chosen one way to live a better life. Or, share something you’ve already done that might encourage others. In thirty days, comment again, letting me know that you’re not only Stayin’ Alive, but determined to Thrive!
SUBSCRIBE, because it won’t be long before I throw myself a little online party, celebrating the twenty-four years that stretch between me and that cancer diagnosis.
All the songs tell us that we should be delirious with happiness right now. All the street lights should look like strings of lights and even the stop lights ought to be reminding us of ornaments as they blink a bright red and green. With people passing and children laughing, we should be meeting smile after smile and every jingle or jangle we hear should be the sweet sound of silver bells.
I love Christmas. My mom loved Christmas. She knew how to make something out of nothing and take joy in what she did have and set aside any thoughts about what she didn’t have. I love surprises and gift giving and if there’s one thing in life right now that has raised the joy in that, it is having our little Snookie. At almost two years old, he’s all wonder and happiness. Together, he and I have been making Christmas cards for him to give to his special people and when he “paints” with his markers, he is purposeful and pleased and understands that he’s making a beautiful thing that will make someone smile.
There are, of course, some of you who are having trouble mustering up a smile. Perhaps it is for good reason. There’s no getting around that for some people Christmas is a reminder of loss or past or present pain. Sometimes it can be fear of loss if illness threatens someone you love. It can also be the absence of someone due to miles or because there’s been a rift that you feel helpless to repair.
Whether you are decorating your heart out and baking mountains of cookies while the carols play or whether you are struggling, an extra smile can’t hurt, so I’d like to share one of our Christmas smiles with you.
When Pookie arrives each day, she asks me how our day went and how things unfolded with lunch, naptime and Snookie’s mood and behavior (which, by the way, is nearly always wonderful). Then on the drive home, she asks questions to get his version of the day. I had decorated for Christmas and placed the Baby Jesus candle in the room where he naps so that we could light it while we snuggle, sing “Away In a Manger” and talk about Jesus. (Do I need a disclaimer here to say that after he falls asleep I blow out the candle before I leave the room?)
The first day we lit the Baby Jesus candle, it was still fresh in his mind on the drive home. The conversation went like this:
Pookie: Did you have a good day?
Snookie: Candle! Pookie: Did Grandma have a candle? Snookie: Light! Pookie: You lit a candle? Snookie: Jesus! Pookie: Oh! You and Grandma lit the Baby Jesus candle? Snookie: I do. (Always his answer when he’s affirming an action or desire.) Pookie: Did you know Christmas is Baby Jesus’ birthday? Snookie: Cake!!! Pookie: Well, maybe we will have cake for Jesus’ birthday. Snookie: Try Mama.
So, now, though we’ve not had the tradition in the past, Pookie is thinking that maybe a birthday cake is in order for Baby Jesus. And, why not? He is the reason for the celebration after all.
Children and their understanding of Christmas can not only bring us laughter, but bring us back to a place of wonder. If you’ve wandered from your wonder into a place of commercialism, cynicism or down-heartedness, maybe it’s time to pray that your childlike joy returns. I’d love to hear your stories of how the children in your life have understood Christmas, so please leave them in the comments. I’d love to write a post filled entirely with those!
One of my favorites is when my niece was discussing the Christmas story with her mommy. They talked their way through it and when they got to the part about the wise men coming to bring gifts to Jesus, she asked what they tripped over. Now, this puzzled my sister and she asked the reason for the question. My niece gave the obvious answer: “Mommy, it says they fell down and worshiped Him. What did they fall over?”
I hope this has given you a smile. I encourage you, like Snookie, to “try”. Pull out your Bible and read through the portions of the book of Isaiah that promise us hope and tell us that the people walking in darkness have seen a great light. The Light is Jesus and it far outshines the candles we use in symbolism. Go to the New Testament and read the story of Jesus’ birth in the Gospels and ask Him to put that same “Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men” in your heart. It’s more than just something to be printed on greeting cards. Or, bake Him a cake!
Take the first step by going in search of the Christ-child. Just try!
Leave your comments with your fun Christmas stories, so we can all share Christmas smiles!
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If you’re in need of a case of the out-and-out giggles, take a journey through my “Laugh” page and also the stories about my “Life With Smuffy”.
It snowed here on October 26th – the first snowfall of the season and a bit jarring for someone like me. I hadn’t even made the switch from Daylight Savings Time yet and that plunge into darkness is bad enough. I have a “love fall/hate winter” thing going on and I like to put the snow event off till Christmas Eve. Make that dusk on Christmas Eve with somewhere between two and four inches. However, I do have to admit there’s beauty in a frozen rose.
Today it was once again so beautiful that I put my ‘Lil Snookie in the stroller and we went for a long walk with not so much as a jacket. I’m soaking up as many of these gems as God grants me before the actual Midwest Winter Nasties set in, unpack their frosty bags and refuse to leave until April except for brief episodes of hiding just to tease.
Recently, at my local writers group, we were challenged to write, on the fly, a story focusing on this time of year. I thought I’d share mine with you today. The prompt brought to mind the emotions that, for me, change with the season.
A nip in the air tells me that it’s changing time. It happens every autumn. For me, it comes as a strange mix – something between a child-like ecstasy and PTSD.
Soon the leaves will change and the inner voice tells me, so must I.
For ten minutes or so, I’ll lose myself in a world of cozy sweaters, chunky jewelry, scarves, boots and jeans. Then, then some random distraction jerks me out of my reverie, my eye catches the strappy patent leather sandals I’ve left near my chair and I want to hug them and beg, “Please, don’t go!”
Each new fall sign brings another urge. “Plant mums!” it says. “What’s wrong with you? Why are there no pumpkins on your porch?” Yet, next to the front steps, my hot pink petunias wave and I wave back, “Please, don’t go!”
I make huge lists. I need to stock up! How squirrels do this without pen, paper and a phone app or two – I have no idea. Herbs, spices, flours, broths, sauces and a bulk bag of chocolate (lest a blizzard set in) are all put on the list. Three or four stores and two or three days later, the shelves are loaded, the checkbook’s been unloaded and I’m starting to calm as I take my tour of the estate and breathe the air that is now crisp. I might be ready for colored leaves now. That is, until my eyes fall upon the rows of pots clustered in the southern flower bed. I feel an only too familiar pang at the sight of basil, parsley, sage, lemongrass and all the others and I stifle the urge to beg them, “Please! Don’t go!”
How can this glory and this vibrancy bring this sadness? Years of experience have proved that winter will pass, but it will pass slowly.
It seems my moods in autumn vary as much as do the many-colored leaves.
How about you, Dear Reader? Do you make a smooth transition into winter or do you curl up and feel as encrusted and weighed down as a rose that droops beneath the weight of unwelcome change?
Science tells us, most unromantically, that it’s merely the chlorophyll’s exit that enables us to see the sugar in the leaves that up until now it’s kept hidden from view. Perhaps that should serve as a great reminder to us to savor the sweetness of each beautiful autumn day and thrive in this beautiful season.
How do you savor your autumn days? Long walks? Special events? Scenic drives? Leave a comment and share your favorite fall activities.
Perhaps you’ve been wondering if Midwest Storyteller has fallen off a cliff or something – but no, what I have been doing is falling in love.
I’ve been a little too preoccupied to think about blogging for the last few weeks because we’ve started off the new year oh, so right!
This 9 pound, 9 ounce bundle of love managed to squeak in at the tail end of 2019, leaving Smuffy and me changed forever. We can’t get enough of staring at that fresh, sweet face and twiddling those precious fingers and toes. And the squeaky little noises and the smiles – don’t be telling us that’s just gas – every one is meant just for us.
We’re new at this grand-parenting thing, but we’re convinced that we’ll have no trouble falling into the groove. This boy is a miracle and his mommy and daddy are amazing us with the the natural way they take to parenting. We knew they had it in them all along!
Look for more at Midwest Storyteller in the days ahead – just as soon as I can tear myself away from the nuzzling and the head kissing.
If your 2020 is as blessed as mine, your world is going to be fabulous!
May you be blessed in each and every day that lies ahead!
That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. It’s late in the day for me to be saying “Hey there!” to all my readers, but this day has been doubly special and I wanted to share.
For those of you who may not be close enough to hear me shouting from the rooftops for the last five months, I am pleased as punch to announce that I am soon going to be a grandma for the first time! I spent the afternoon at a lovely baby shower for my radiant daughter, watching family and friends bless her and welcome our new little one.
Is that exciting, or WHAT!?
The thing that makes it doubly sweet is that today is also an anniversary for me. No, it’s not the day I married Smuffy.
Twenty years ago, I got that call from the doctor that no one wants. When you hear, “The biopsy does show cancer”, everything shifts. Life is different. I was young. My daughter was not yet fifteen. I was homeschooling and to me it was a calling. Up until then, when I overheard people with health problems saying, “Well, you know, I just take one day at a time”, I thought it was canned conversation – something you say when you don’t know what else to say. Over the next several months, I learned what it meant to take one day at a time – to do what I could when I could and let everything else go.
The world calls us cancer survivors. I refused to adopt that term for myself. In my mind, it forms a picture somewhat similar to someone who has been rescued from months lost in a jungle after a plane crash and crawled back to civilization on their belly and elbows – someone who will never be the same again. By the grace of God and carried on the prayers of family and friends, I came through not as someone battered, scarred and fearful, but as a winner! The enemy that attacked me is defeated and the trophy is mine!
You’ve probably heard it said that the best revenge is a life well lived. What better revenge can I have than to mentor other people with their health and help them to thrive? If I can help someone avoid the path leading to failing health, then I am a success.
Two decades later, I got to glory in this shower welcoming my grandchild rather than…well, you know…the alternative.
So, I sent myself a card because…why shouldn’t I? I couldn’t let this day close without inviting you all to join me in wishing myself a “Happy 20th Healthyversary!”
May you learn, grow and thrive in body mind and spirit! God is good and I am blessed!
You can find more of my story on my Thrive! page and lots of healthy recipes and great healthy tips are always being added to my Food Freedom page.
Today I want to
take a moment to make a confession. I
have fallen in love.
After decades of self-study in the area of health in order to understand my own issues and do the best I can for my family, I have, at last, found a resource that seems to be custom designed for me.
I’ve never struggled with obesity. In fact, aside from a couple of photos of me as a chubby toddler, I spent most of my life in the string bean category. Well, maybe a string bean with hips. That is, until I went through something that is just about the biggest hormone screwer-upper ever – chemotherapy. You can find more about that part of my story here.
As I sat in the
chemo room listening to the others chat, I heard women saying that they’d
gained as much as forty-five pounds during treatments. Forty-five
pounds! The patients and their
care-givers blamed it on the steroid anti-nausea drugs. At that point, I didn’t care as much about
the cause as I did the result. The idea
of that type of weight gain stayed in the forefront of my mind and at the top
of my prayer list for the next four months.
Well, I didn’t
gain forty-five pounds, but I did gain fifteen and in the following years, that
fifteen has tried it’s best to turn into twenty. As is my body’s tendency, it wanted to pack
itself disproportionately below the waist, which may have paid off if I’d lived
during the Renaissance and cared little for my modesty. In those days, there was a demand for those
who would, at artists’ requests, recline on couches with a bunch of grapes in
one hand and a dove perched upon the other.
I tried various diets and joined the well-known support group that counts points. Since points were much simpler to count than calories, this worked for me. In fact, it worked for me two or three times. There seemed to be two issues. They declared that “points are points” and we could consume them in any combination. After a while, I learned that some foods’ points stuck to me like glue while others slipped off effortlessly after a period of over-indulgence. The other issue – and this one bothered me most – was that while this farm girl had been taken off the farm, the farm appetite hadn’t been taken out of the girl. I wanted more food, dagnabbit!
After a prolonged period of stress, Stage 3 Adrenal Fatigue showed up, stayed much longer than I preferred, juggled my hormones even further and, if I may cling to that comparison, dropped all the balls. My holistic M.D., along with treatment, advised a diet that would go easier on the glands and I gave up sugar and most grains.
A couple of years later, a long-time friend of mine lost around thirty pounds. I had to admit that she maintained more joy than anyone I’d ever known on any type of “diet”. She absolutely glowed and was enjoying herself. I asked about it and she told me about Trim Healthy Mama.
Further inquiries
led me to understand that the food on the THM plan was nearly identical to the
recommendations of my doctor. The only thing
– and it seemed such a logical thing – that they recommended to people who wanted
to trim away the pounds would be to separate carbohydrate fuels from fat fuels
at mealtimes.
After toying with
the idea and reading bits and pieces of their plan for a while as I was coming
out of the adrenal struggle, I took their plan and began stepping into it at
the beginning of this year, studying it and putting it into practice one day at
a time. Finally, I have enough food to
eat! I promised to grant myself grace to
go off plan from time to time and to feel no guilt should I decide to go ahead
and use up some off-plan ingredients along the way instead of throwing them
out. I think they’re all gone now (if
you don’t count Smuffy’s cheat stash).
I needed to make friends with a few new special ingredients to help me in separating fuels, being kind to blood sugars and getting the extra protein I needed in my diet. I’ve embraced a lot of new ingredients over the years, so it didn’t rock my world much.
I now have their plan books and cookbooks and since I have a big yard with lots of weeds to pull, have listened to over 130 Trim Healthy Podcasts (or, as we call it in THM Land, “The Poddy”) as of this date. I feel like I’ve completed a crash course in getting to know the authors, Serene and Pearl.
I have lost several
pounds and as my hormones steady themselves further, I’m sure the number on the scale will continue to drop as I
feast on real food and avoid even some of the healthy ones that are known to
spike blood sugars and set off hormonal chain reactions.
In case you haven’t had the realization yet – hormones are everything! Messin’ with those will make you ugly inside and out, if you get my drift.
The best part, or
what is referred to as a “non scale victory”, is that I feel good and do not
feel the slightest hint of deprivation.
In fact, “junk” tastes like junk and I know that’s hard to believe if you’re
still addicted to the SAD. What a
perfect name for the “standard American diet”!
I’ll post more about my journey with Trim Healthy Mama in the future, but today I wanted to share with you some of the great meals and treats I’ve discovered on this plan and give an honest review.
Today, for lunch, I made “Mama’s Famous Meatloaf” (page 157 of the Trim Healthy Cookbook) and topped it with a sauce made from “Trim Healthy Ketchup” (page 482). It had great texture and was moist with good flavor, just as you’d expect from an old-fashioned meatloaf like Grandma used to make. However, we tend to like things with a bit more “zip”, so next time, I’ll probably make it my own by adding a bit more spice. I’m not sure why the topping is more orange than red as I did follow directions, but it was tasty!
The ketchup recipe
can be called a tomatoey sauce, but it is not ketchup to me. However, I had already developed my own
recipe without any refined sugars and it tastes just like Heinz. As soon as
I take the THM one and marry it to mine by having one of my kitchen lab
brainstorms, I’ll post it here on the blog.
What is meat loaf
without mashed potatoes? Well, it’s
fabulous if you serve up “Mashed Fotatoes” (page 264 of the Trim Healthy Table
Cookbook). Who needs all those starches
and carbs? Not me! I’ll never be sorry I left white potatoes
behind after seeing how easy it was to whip of this cauliflower version in the
food processor in a matter of seconds.
I found them
heavenly. Smuffy requests that they have
a little less garlic next time.
Smuffy’s been
growing okra in his garden, so I served it up alongside just the way we like
it. I stir together my own “baking
blend” with equal parts almond flour, golden flax meal and coconut flour. After slicing the okra into half-inch pieces,
I tossed it in about three tablespoons of this mixture and stir fried it in a
skillet I had pre-heated on medium-high heat with a tablespoon of refined
coconut oil and a tablespoon of real butter.
It’s browned and beautiful in no time at all.
All this made a
delicious Satisfying meal. (The THM plan defines “S” meals.)
I struggled with whether to assign this post to my “Thrive!” page because of the health benefits of Trim Healthy Mama, to my “Feed Me” page because it is good food or to my “Reviews” page because I can’t say enough good things about Trim Healthy Mama.
I have tried many recipes from their books and have only found a couple that I considered “duds”. Pearl and Serene, I don’t know what you were thinking. Perhaps they are a hit in Aussie culture, but “Slender Slaw” (page 266, Trim Healthy Table) and “Tzatziki Cucumber Salad” (page 266, Trim Healthy Table) are both odd. Not horrible – just odd – and not a hit at our house.
To give a completely honest review, I must make one negative comment on the cookbooks. Pearl and Serene, I love you, but whomever is compiling your indexes needs to be assigned to a new job. You’ll notice how many flags are protruding from the books in the first photo. That’s because, once you find a recipe, you’re going to have a dickens of a time finding it again, and I know how to use an index. Recipes need to be listed by under categories, by actual name and by featured ingredients. Just sayin’.
I’m loving “Wonder Wraps” (page 251, Trim Healthy Table) and the first recipe I made from this cookbook, “Creamy Garlic Spinach Spaghetti Squash Bake (page 135). That one got me off to a good start and I couldn’t wait to share it with friends. However, the day I attempted to do so tried my soul and you might want to brace yourself before reading about it here.
I have only two
words to say as I prepare to go downstairs and sneak a couple out of the
refrigerator – “Superfood Mounds”, people!
Forget about those candy bars we grew up with. Stir up a batch of these (page 424, Trim
Healthy Table) in a saucepan and get ready for awesomeness! Another super-easy treat is “Two Minute
Truffles” (page 422, Trim Healthy Table).
I’d make extra if I were you and skip dusting them. They are better when smooth.
In case you
haven’t met them, Serene Allison and Pearl Barrett are sisters from “down
under” who have ended up in the hills of Tennessee along with their husbands,
children and extended family. After
writing a book to share with friends and acquaintances who asked them for the
science and “how-to” on how they stay so trim and healthy, they found
themselves on the best-seller list! Now
their sensible, scientific and doable approach is available to us all.
Thanks, Serene and Pearl!
Are you aTrim Healthy Mama? Are you toying with the idea? Never even heard of it? I’d love to chat about it so leave a comment!
What’s all the fuss about eating healthy? We shouldn’t just survive, we should thrive! Check out my Thrive! page. My Feed Me! page offers recipes with free printables. Not every recipe there is THM compatible, but most can be altered to work and I’ll try to make edits in the future to help you with that.
Be sure to
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has something new.
As winter lifts her white robes and moves around the
stage prior to her big exit, the audience here in the Midwest is waving the
back of its hand at her to shoo her behind the curtain and out the stage door
before they give way to applause.
Nevertheless, we cannot deny her beauty at times. She does put on some stunning performances to help us tolerate the bleak tragedies that seem to play out day after frozen, cold day.
When a heavy snow falls, creating an etching from the usual blur of the woods behind our house, we do have to stop and view it as a winter paradise.
Branches laden with heavy snow droop down to display their beauty right at eye level, begging us to take a few moments to notice that they’ve turned to lace.
I hate winter. My preference would be to have beautiful fall colors and jacket weather right up until dusk on Christmas Eve, at which time around two inches of snowfall would blanket the earth, bringing a respectful hush over all creation. Then, just to be fair, I’d allow it to do it’s thing right up until January 2nd and then we’d all go back to sunshine and jackets again.
Though we long for outdoor activities and that roasty-toasty feeling of the sun warming our backs as we bend over new growth in flower beds, our last round of snow reminded us that we will be waiting a little while for those joys.
It’s difficult for me to feel like I’m thriving in
winter. At times, it takes its
toll. There are only so many gray days I
can take in a row before a gloomy mood sets in.
Phoebe June’s antics keep me cheery, along with outings for lunch with
friends or Smuffy on decent days and a stack of giggle-inducing P. G. Wodehouse
books.
There have been winters that left me feeling like I’ve taken a hit – a bit like our big pine tree is feeling right now.
Like the tree, I suppose it might do me good to have some weak areas fall away to allow light and air enter and new growth to fill in the empty places when spring arrives.
Even now, as I conclude these observations, I realize what a terrific writer I must be, because if I can romanticize this awful stuff, I can romanticize anything! I’ve spent this afternoon writing, ignoring the fact that there is an ice storm warning going on out there!
Upon hearing Smuffy’s truck in the driveway just now, I left my lair to greet him. He entered the back door, telling me he’d just had a bit of excitement. He’d parked the truck at the top of our driveway’s hill in hopes of being able to leave for work in the morning and while moving the car out of range of an ice-laden tree limb that made him a little nervous, he heard a scrunching sound.
We’re blessed that he’d parked the truck with the wheels turned, because it missed the car, three trees and Smuffy as it slid all the way down the driveway and into the neighbors’ yard. If a fallen limb left over from the last round of nasty weather hadn’t stopped it, who knows where it might have ended up! I could use another chapter of Wodehouse after that.
My little afternoon romantic fling with winter’s beauty
is over now. It’s lost its appeal again
and it’s time for a break-up! It’s time
for SPRING!
To all my readers who live in winter’s grip – hang in
there! Try to think of March as only
days away.
To all my hyacinths – you should have listened last week when I told you to pull your heads back below ground because those two sixty degree days were just a cruel joke!
Need a spring preview to chase away the gray? Take a tour through my garden in full bloomhere!
If the gloom requires a good laugh, make a cup of tea and settle down with the stories on my “Life With Smuffy” page. You’ll feel better in no time. He isn’t the only one who’s here to entertain – the “Laugh” page has more!
Questions? Comments? Click on “Leave a comment”. I’d love to hear your thoughts on winter, wherever you live!
Praying that each of you have many opportunities to enjoy the glories of the season! The trees will soon be singing!
“…let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy;” -Psalm 96:12
I took this photo in my yard last fall. A free printable of the word art above is available upon request to subscribers. Click here to subscribe and send me an email or leave a comment with your request.
Last time, we discussed how much our lives have changed over the centuries and took a fun, but realistic, look at a day in the life of pioneer women in the 1800’s. If you missed it, you may want to check it out here. We’ve acquired many modern conveniences and long with them a sense of guilt that haunts us if we aren’t constantly on the job or flitting to or from one.
While we long for the simplicity that comes with our ancestors’ uncomplicated lifestyle, few of us would return to it once we considered the hardships that went hand-in-hand with that simplicity.
We came home the other day from a writers’ conference to discover that our central air conditioning had gone out. It’s August. Though we did receive a refreshing rain and the weather cooled down, fixing the A/C moved to the top of our priority list. Another modern convenience, the weather app, tells us it will be 97 degrees this weekend. No pioneering spirit here, folks!
My faith governs my life and my world-view. I know that as a human being, I am designed for Garden of Eden living. That means that I am not wired for stress. Yet, due to the gift of free will, “stuff” happens. Just living on this earth means we need a break. We need restoration! People are imperfect – doggonit – and they’re everywhere! Situations, as science confirms, go from order to chaos – not the other way around. I’m not going to notice, for instance, that although I haven’t mopped the floor in weeks, my floors just keep getting cleaner and shinier. A farmer isn’t going to drive by his long-neglected field and discover that time has turned the tangled mass of weeds into neat rows of corn. Again – doggonit!
So, with everything cascading into a mess all around us and folks misbehaving left and right, it’s no wonder we need restorative rest.
In my last post, I suggested that each time you feel guilty for being “so far behind”, that you grab the timer and see just how long your tasks really take to complete. Did you discover that they all take longer than the few minutes you’ve allotted them in your mind?
I feel it’s necessary to mention the fellas as we look at how life has changed. Along with awareness that domestic chores have become much easier over the centuries, we must also acknowledge that men do help out more than ever before. The first time I saw a daddy wearing a cuddle sack with his tiny infant snuggled against his chest, going about his business like it was an easy-breezy part of life, my heart melted. I remember the day when such a thing would have been unheard of.
More and more men are involved with household chores and caring for their children’s basic needs without falling apart at the seams with a bad case of martyr syndrome because someone asked them for a little help. It’s a change that’s been a long time coming and, I believe, has not come about by any natural evolutionary processes, guilty consciences or increased introspection and self-awareness on their part. It took push and I’m proud of every woman who pushed.
My advice to all of you who are frustrated, stressed out and guilt-ridden was to fire yourself, re-hire yourself and give yourself a break! Emily Post gave me some perspective on this and I hope it helps you as much as it did me.
I know what you’re thinking. You’ve immediately lumped Emily into the same domestic category as Martha Stewart, Mary Poppins and June Cleaver. Believe it or not, I’ve had friends good-naturedly call me all those names over the years. I’m one of those people who likes to make everything “special”. Surprisingly, Emily helped to ease the strain because “special” takes time, effort and lots of clean-up.
I stumbled across an old volume of Emily Post’s “Etiquette” (1942, to be exact) at a yard sale, took it home and dove in. After all, inquiring minds want to know if they’re doing everything wrong. Right? Smuffy looked over at me one evening as we both reclined in bed with our books and said, “I’d be willing to bet money that right now, in this entire town, there is not one other person curled up in bed reading a two-inch thick 1942 Emily Post book of etiquette.” It probably would have been a safe bet.
What can I say?
I found it fascinating. Emily will teach you how to do everything. You’ll learn how to meet government officials (foreign and domestic), how to deal with your child’s clothing choices, how to set a perfect table, and write the proper invitations and other correspondence. Though you may not need the section on “Do’s and Don’ts for Debutantes”, you will learn how to teach your children not to be…well…mannerless, awkward clods.
The wonderful thing about it? It all made sense. She designs a world in which you make other people feel comfortable in any situation.
Hoity-toity, you say? Only in spots. Emily understands. She had a name for those of us who don’t have minions at our beck and call or a stack of engraved invitations waiting for our RSVP. She refers us as “Mrs. Three-in-One”. She acknowledges that this means most of us. Like it or not, most of us are cook, maid and hostess.
I fantasized my way through her chapter on “The Well-Appointed House”, giving myself a tongue-in-cheek reminder that I mustn’t forget “What the Butler Wears”. When I came to the section on the “House Run by One Maid”, I gave it a little more attention due to the fact that my house has one maid and I am she. That’s when I fired myself. Or did I quit? Anyhow, I knew it was time to start over with a new set of expectations.
I decided that, as Mrs. Three-in-One, I needed to re-hire the maid (me) using Emily’s job description. I surrendered all guilt, knowing that it would be unreasonable to expect more of myself than I would of the hired help.
This maid’s work “must be adjusted not only to the needs of the particular family by whom she is employed, but also to her own capability”. Understanding and flexibility are built into that statement. I realized that when I can’t – I can’t.
Emily states that, allowing for sleeping and eating, the maid has a remaining fourteen hours left in her day, “out of which she must find the time for recreation as well as for work”. Don’t be a tyrant, Mrs. Three-in-One! Do a little recreating.
The maid’s hours for housework should run from ten to twelve hours a day, perhaps more on special occasions. “From these hours there must, however be taken certain regular hours of time out.” Regular hours of time out during her ten to twelve hour day! Are you starting to think you’ve been a little hard on yourself? Career women, you can’t do it all. Stay-at-home moms, you might do it all, but you still need a cup of tea and time to put your feet up!
Then, Emily really starts speaking my language. “Normally every maid has her specified afternoons and evenings out.” Let me get my hat and coat! She goes on to say that if household requirements are unusually hard or confining, compensate for this as best you can. Women have used their creativity in dealing with this for centuries. I imagine this is how quilting bees came about.
The next section in the book provided a “Working Schedule for a One-Maid House”. I studied it, asking myself if I should expect any more of myself than I would of this woman I’d hired. Hypothetically, she is in charge of a seven-room house which includes a living room, dining room, porch, kitchen, maid’s room and bath, three bedrooms and two baths.
I balked at the first item, which suggested that I wash and dress at 6:45 a.m. OK, I’m open to it.
The second item felt more like my usual routine, which is to be downstairs by 7:00 a.m. to put the kettle on, start cereal and set the breakfast table. I’ve seen my mother “start cereal”. It involved the stove, a pan and such. For me, starting cereal consists of putting the box on the counter and parking a gallon of milk next to it. The “breakfast table”? My family has never known the table to be in any way connected with breakfast and I’m not letting the cat out of the bag at this stage of the game.
At 7:30 a.m., the maid is to cook breakfast, then eat her own breakfast. I’m just fine with the second half of that. Cooking breakfast is a term reserved for Saturdays only when, and if, all parties and circumstances are aligned and in agreement.
The family is to be served breakfast at 8:00 a.m. I can’t remember the last time this happened, but there may have been a high chair involved. Everyone around here is capable. That gives this maid a little more time to linger over her own breakfast and cup of tea.
At 8:30 a.m., the job description calls for the maid to clear the table, wash the dishes, pick up the living room, sweep the dining room, kitchen and halls. The mistress (also me) is to plan meals for the day and “order marketing”. There is an hour and a half allotted for this. I’d have no problem with this if I had gotten washed and dressed at 6:45 as directed, but…
Heading upstairs at 10:00, the maid makes beds, cleans bathrooms, sweeps, dusts and empties wastebaskets. Apparently this does not include the bedrooms. (See daily schedule below.)
Special work for the day is done at 11:00 and takes and hour and a half. One room from the list below is cleaned thoroughly. If it doesn’t take that long, the maid is to do whatever else needs to be done such as polish silver, make a cake or dessert or dinner or prepare vegetables. I can see a lot of us dispensing with that first item., though I do pull out all the stops when I’m feeling “fancy”.
At 12:30, Luncheon is prepared and the table is set so that lunch can be served at 1:00. This sounds like a real time crunch for someone as slow as my maid, if you get my drift.
I’m sure Emily is counting on luncheon being a very simple meal and these people saving their appetites for a more elaborate evening meal, for she suggests clearing the table at 1:30 and washing the dishes, I suppose whether they have finished eating or not.
After this, the maid has free time until 3:00 p.m. Yes, indeed, plum spang in the middle of the day, there she is, doing nothing. Well, it does suggest that she rest, bathe and change her dress.
Back on duty at 3:00, apparently all she does is hang around the kitchen as she is “on duty” there and be ready to answer the door. I don’t know who answered up until now. Perhaps there is a section on how it is rude to go visiting before 3:00 p.m.?
At 5:00 p.m., she rolls up her sleeves and prepares meat, vegetables, etc., for dinner. Of course, she sets a nice table.
Now, with the prep work done, the maid is ready to cook, which she does at 5:30.
At 6:30 p.m., dinner is served.
Apparently, this family doesn’t linger long, for at 7:00, she is washing dishes, putting the dining room and kitchen in order for the night.
By 8:00, this maid is finished. Nothing more to be done. Her plans for the evening “will be adapted to the household needs.” This is where it gets scary, don’t you think?
I’m sure you’re still wondering about that “Special Work for the Day” that occurs at 11:00 a.m. Here it is:
Monday – Clean the three bedrooms.
Tuesday – Clean dining room and polish silver.
Wednesday – Clean sun porch and do extra baking.
Thursday – Clean kitchen and maid’s room.
Friday – Clean living room.
Saturday – Polish brass, silver, furniture, etc. Bake cake for Sunday.
I don’t know about you, but this cleaning schedule doesn’t sound half bad. Clean the bedrooms – no problem. Not many of us are polishing silver anymore, so cleaning the dining room or area shouldn’t be overwhelming. Having a sun porch to clean is on my bucket list! With clean eating going on, the only extra baking involves some sourdough bread or maybe a lasagna to freeze. There is no maid’s room to clean, so I’m off the hook there. The living room always needs a going over. That leaves Saturdays to do something more interesting (unless I do decide to clean the furniture) because I rarely polish brash and I don’t bake cakes for Sunday.
Now let’s all pause and breathe! Are you like me? When I studied this job description, all I could think was, “I’m not sure I could do all this even if I got paid for it!” Yet, I saw that this maid got time off in the middle of the day, plus specified afternoons and evenings out. I’d been expecting myself to get all these things done and more.
I needed to be at Smuffy’s beck and call because his constant immersion in some project (or body of water). I needed to be sure my mom got to the store and to her appointments and got out and had a little fun. Nowhere on the list of maid’s duties did I find any mention of children and their schoolwork, scraped knees or need to play. Laundry didn’t seem to enter into this maid’s duties at all! I didn’t see any time allotted for being a good neighbor, volunteering at church, helping with community projects or taking the cat to the vet. I love making handmade gifts. Where’s the time for that? I’ve written three novels and have a blog to keep up with! All this and we, as women, are supposed make time to exercise and keep fit as well?
If I added all these things to the paid maid’s schedule, I wouldn’t even get to sleep! It’s tempting to give up.
Emily Post has set me free! I now know that I can’t do it all. I have to pick from the list and put things off until I can get around to them. You’ll have to do that, too, if you don’t want to lose your marbles, drain your body of cortisol and put your family through the ordeal of living with someone who is on stress overload. It’s true what they say, “If mama ain’t happy…”
We thrive when we live a balanced life. Honey, fire yourself! Re-hire yourself and give yourself a break! Let’s all make peace with the fact that we are Mrs. Three-in-One. That lady needs love, understanding and a nap!
Emily Post is not a thing of the past. She’s still got us covered. She answers all your questions about navigating life in today’s world with the lost arts – consideration, respect, honesty and etiquette atemilypost.com
If you’d like an “oldie” like mine and don’t want to cruise yard sales waiting for one, you might try Amazon here.
Need a gratitude adjustment, click here. Find 50 ways to make next year a better one here.
I dedicate this to all the women out there – wives, moms, grandmas, the ones taking care of aging parents and the ones who will be, the young women who are working away at jobs or studying day and night. I dedicate it to those who barely have enough domestic skills to make their own beds – those who’d stare at a steam iron or a potato peeler with their heads at a tilt before texting out photos to multiple people asking for help with identification. I can see their internet search box now – “antique hand-held sharp spinning thing” or “not quite triangular metal plate attached to handle with electrical cord”.
Let’s talk about guilt. I hate the stuff. I refuse to believe that I’m created to wallow in such muck. No one can thrive while in that pit. Guilt messes with my mind, making it more of an obstacle course than it already is.
The fact is, ladies – we’ve got it pretty cushy and we still need a break! And we feel guilty for it. I can’t tell you how that simple truth makes my head spin. I fight guilt when I take a break. I’m getting better, though. Several years back, I began asking myself, “If I were my own employee, what kind of breaks would I think I deserved?” Also, “If I were hiring someone to do what I do, what kind of schedule would I consider reasonable for her?”
I thought it would do me good to pretend I’d hired me, then fire myself for not taking the allotted time off, nodding off while on duty and rarely getting things done on time. Then, since no one else would likely apply for the job, I could re-hire myself, issue myself a new list of reasonable expectations and treat myself as I would any other woman I truly respected.
Hearken back to Mother’s Day. If you’re a mom, did you get a break? If you have a mom, did you give her a break? My daughter did. We were long overdue for a trip to the city to eat, shop and piddle. It was great. I was pooped! (I can’t say enough good things about the brunch at Lidia’s! Let’s just say that I skipped in and waddled out. Delightful!)
Then, things returned to “normal”. But, normal makes me tired. I get so behind at normal.
Someone once said, “Nobody fills out your calendar but you,” in an attempt to drive home the point that we all need to say “no” to some things and plan some margins into our lives.
I don’t know about you, but other people seem to be shoving the pen into my hand and making me write stuff all over my calendar pages.
Still, the modern woman, if she’s honest, must admit she has it pretty cushy. It helps to look at things from a different perspective. Over the course of human history, we have less work to do and a more comfortable environment in which to accomplish it than ever before.
Almost all of us now have a dishwasher. Even though we may opt to do the dishes by hand and say we don’t mind it a bit, most of us have lost contact with the idea of cooking three meals a day from scratch for a house full of people and then doing all those dishes by hand after each and every meal. I can still see Smuffy’s mom standing where she spent most of her time after feeding the husband and five growing boys.
I’ve had a copy of an old newspaper clipping for years and years. A Kansas pioneer mother had given written instructions to her daughter when she began running her own household. The family hung on to it. The El Dorado Times printed it in 1968 during their centennial to remind folks what life had been like one hundred years before. (Notes in parentheses are mine.)
How to Wash Clothes
Build a fire in the back yard to set kettle of rain water. (So, did you have to wait for a good rain before you could have laundry day? ‘Cause, I don’t think she means kettle – I think she means cauldron.)
Set tubs so smoke won’t blow in eyes if wind is pert. (Gee, thanks, Ma! You could have told me that before I filled them full of water! And…if the wind changes? How many of us have even considered smoke being a problem in getting the laundry done?)
Shave 1 hole cake lie sope in biling water. (So, I take a knife, stand over a giant “biling” cauldron and try not to cut my hand off as the cake of “sope” gets smaller and smaller and slicker and slicker? Sounds like a job for Smuffy. Oh, wait! He’s probably out somewhere behind the plow.)
Sort things. Make 3 piles. 1 pile white, 1 pile cullord, 1 pile britches and rags. (Britches=diapers? Guess so. What else would go in with the rags? Which reminds me – we’re doing up a whole batch of bad cloth diapers and other disgusting stuff here. I can smell this biling pot already. There are bound to be lots of rags while I’m waiting for paper towels and tissues to be invented.)
Stir flour in cold water to smooth, then thin down with biling water. (Flour? Huh? Oh, right! Almost forgot – if we don’t starch ourselves stiff, our Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes will be all limp and we’ll look bedraggled on the one day this week we get to see another living soul. Um…how much flour…water?)
Rub dirty spots on bord, then bile. Rub cullord, but don’t bile, Just rench and starch. (So much to remember? I guess this requires another, smaller tub, another cake of soap and the wash bord so I can sit down on a stump and pre-treat. I have a feeling that the ‘dirty spots” acquired out here on the prairie are more than just a few. My poor knuckles! Hope the fire doesn’t go out before I get all this done. Come to think of it, I don’t even know how to build a fire! Should have had Smuffy do that before he hitched Old Ruth to the plow and headed for the south forty.)
Take white things out with broom handle, then rench, blew and starch. (Now I’m losing track of the quantity of tubs. I hope we had a dandy rain! One for biling that I can allow to cool down before I drop in the cullords, one for rinse water, one with bluing added and one with starch added? There’s got to be a system for this to keep me from starching Smuffy’s union suit! Ma!”)
Spread tee towels on grass. (Now I’ve got to catch the cow and tie her up.)
Hang old rags on fense. (Easiest part of the whole day so far. Wait! Is there a clothesline in this picture at all?)
Pour rench water in flower bed. (When did I have time to plant all these flowers?)
Scrub porch with soapy water. (I knew I should have put those tubs closer to the house. I’m not saying the porch doesn’t need it, but is there any way this could wait till tomorrow?)
Turn tubs upside down. (If I must, I must. I’m tempted to take a refreshing dip in that rench water first. What time is it anyway? There seem to have been endless delays – milking the cow, stopping to catch lunch, cook lunch, nurse the baby and so on…)
Go put on a clean dress. Smooth hair with side combs. Brew cup of tea, set and rest and count your blessins. (That is, if those little blessins behave themselves.)
I read this and my heart goes out to all the women in history who had to do this (and so much more) the hard way. Even my own mom and Smuffy’s spent years doing their laundry with a wringer washing machine and large tubs. All the wringer machines really did was eliminate the washboard and some of the cramps in your arms.
That’s my Grandpa Albert helping my dad fix the washer. I wonder what Mom’s laundry pile looked like by the time they got it running again. If it broke down somewhere between the biling and the renching…Oh, dear! We really can count our blessings each time we walk up to that washer or dryer, plop the clothes in, push a few buttons and walk away.
Yet, the stress in our lives continues to grow. We get anxious and frustrated after we’ve driven to three or four stores that are miles apart, trying to find the bulb that fits in the refrigerator. We have this anxiety only because we’re blessed with a refrigerator and a car!
I will never cease to wonder how my mom did it! Yet, she did it – the house, the meals, the garden and all the canning that went with it, the chickens, the cows to milk and, oh, yes – the blessins! Take a look at her first three little helpers. With these underfoot, not to mention the other four that followed, you might think she couldn’t have done it with a sweet nature and a sense of humor, but she did – while making all their clothes and those cute little bonnets from scratch!
I suppose she lined them (and the puppies) up under a shade tree and hoped for the best while she turned her back on them long enough to hang the wash on the line.
So, how do we step back from our modern-day stress and at the same time ease the guilt?
I suggest you consider all your failures and fire yourself. Then, since the applicant pool is likely nil, re-hire yourself. Call yourself into your office and give yourself a realistic job description because, yes, ladies, our lives are cushy-er than ever but we still need realistic expectations of ourselves. It’s the first step in a guilt-free life!
I’m issuing a challenge. This week, each time you feel frustrated because you are “so far behind”, grab the timer. Actually time yourself completing a task from start to finish. Begin a realistic list of how long it really takes to clean the kitchen, prepare a meal, fold the laundry and put it away or make a “quick trip” to the store. If you feel the same level of stress at work, you can try this there also, but generally, I feel that though we may feel pressure at work, we feel less guilt when we are on someone else’s clock. Once you’ve accumulated a list of timed tasks, you may be able to lower your expectations of getting them all finished in half the time it really takes! There are, after all, only so many hours in a day and days in the 1800’s had the same number of hours as they do today, although sometimes I find myself questioning whether that can possible be true.
Here’s Smuffy’s great-grandma Margaret, after she’d put on a clean dress and smoothed her hair with side combs. She probably sat down in that chair and counted her blessins because at least she had the well and could draw her wash water up out of it in buckets instead of lugging it from the creek or waiting for it to rain. If she took a little rest, I doubt she felt an ounce of guilt.
Next up? A job description you can live with! Don’t forget to “like”, pin and “share” with all the women in your life who need a new perspective so they can join me here for Part 2 of “I Surrender All – Guilt”!
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And, if you’ve never attempted to “blew” your whites and wouldn’t know quite where to start, you might want to click here. My aunt Gladys Pearl will show you the ropes and put a smile on your face.
I am thankful for each one of you! I took this photo recently and just had to share.
I thought it frame-worthy. If you think so, too, you can request the FREE printable! Read on to find out how.
The plague of moles in past years has ended, allowing my tulips to multiply and the results make me smile every time I pull in my driveway or look out my front door. My favorite season has arrived at last and tulips always brighten my world. For that, I am thankful.
Spring weather affects us in more ways than one. Fresh air invigorates us. Sunshine gives us extra doses of Vitamin D which eases those aches and pains we seem to notice more during the colder months. My mom referred to it as being “stove up from winter”. She may not have known a lot about vitamin deficiencies, but she knew how she felt.
Walking, hiking, puttering and downright vigorous yard work make us stronger and give us that “good tired” feeling – unless we over-do it. When that happens, I find there’s nothing more therapeutic than a good, brisk sit. Phoebe June agrees. After chattering at birds, studying squirrels with a wary eye, chasing bugs and swatting at passing bees, there’s nothing like retreating inside the peony bush.
You might need to keep Phoebe’s philosophy in mind this month! While you’re snatching a bit of repose in your hideaway, remember that rest is a gift from God. Close your eyes and give thanks that you’ve been able to engage in any of the activities that have made you so tired! It truly is a blessing to be able to do something as simple as take a walk or plant a few flowers.
Another blessing in disguise is the flurry of activity that May brings. I suppose it’s been going on this way for centuries, but it seems the whole world schedules its activities in May. After all, is there any better time for a picnic? Mother’s Day, graduations, Memorial Day get-togethers, showers, babies, weddings – they all demand that we prepare and partake. While you’re doing so, give thanks that you are not alone. Family and friends are asking you to carve out a little time for them and that’s a good thing.
So, here you are reading this blog when you should be out getting things done! Right? Right!
Get going! But first, “like”, “pin” and “SHARE” the this post with your friends. A few tulips and a gentle reminder may be just what someone needs today.
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I couldn’t let April 10th pass by without giving a shout-up to my mom. You see, she’s having her 100th birthday party today in Heaven!
The great example she set for me and all my precious memories of her help me thrive!
She spent her nearly 95 years on this earth living within a rather small geographical radius. Here she is in front of the house where she was born back in 1918.
Little Emmabelle arrived in the midst of the great flu pandemic which was the first time H1N1 attempted to wipe out the human race. It infected 500 million people and killed somewhere between 50 million and 100 million, or 5-10% of the world’s population. It didn’t, however, get Emmabelle.
In the heart of the Mid-west, her parents made a living as best they could in a tiny town along the railroad tracks where her daddy, Judge (and we have already established that he wasn’t one), operated a business that served as general store, barbershop and post office. I would imagine that no one in the town held any secrets he didn’t hear about! Her mother, Nettie, stepped into the role of post-mistress in later years. Judge and Nettie raised their brood of six in a tiny house so close to the railroad tracks that I’m sure its timbers rattled with each passing train.
The third-born in her family, Mom had an older brother, Gerald. They called him Spiege – for a reason. You can get acquainted with Spiege here. Her older sister, Martha, became a great playmate when Emmabelle was home. While Martha could be termed a “ball ‘o fire”, Emmabelle was shy and reserved. Here they are on an outing together, having a little fun and sporting their 1920’s bobbed haircuts. Emmabelle is the blonde on the right.
Mom was often not at home, for her grandma Martha and step-grandpa “Uncle John”, who lived about ten miles away, had rheumatism. Even as a preschooler, little Emmabelle rode the train alone to stay with them for extended periods of time and help out. She loved them very much and though she missed being with her siblings, she enjoyed her time with them and had a real bond with her grandparents. I’m told that she did, however, pretend to have the measles once in order to go home.
Once in a while, one of the younger siblings got to take a turn helping out Grandma and Uncle John and you might want to read about a particular one of those visits here if you’re in need of a good old-fashioned giggle today.
Emmabelle’s younger siblings included another brother, Tim (whose name was neither Tim nor Timothy) and two baby sisters, Gladys Pearl (of the above-mentioned story) and Jean. They aren’t without their own stories and those are yet to come.
Mom walked to school every day, along with the rest of her siblings, to attend the little schoolhouse that had been expanded from one room to two. She graduated from 8th Grade there. Here’s her graduating class. Emmabelle is the blonde on the back row.
I remember growing up thinking that my mom must not have gotten much of an education. Take a look at this 8th Grade Final Exam from 1931. If Mom’s test was anything like this one, I tend to think I was selling her short. Think of all the fourteen-year-olds you know. I’d hate to have to take it myself, but I’d love to see the results if this test were given to high school seniors (or, come to think of it – college seniors) today. I’d also like to be in the room to observe their faces and hear their groans about three minutes after they’d been handed this test.
Mom – you were one smart cookie!
After graduating, Mom helped out at home, did some babysitting and sometimes stayed with her newly-married sister, Martha.
In September of 1940, my parents met at a meeting amongst area churches. They married that December and moved into a log cabin near his parents with no water or electricity. They started out by having a couple of girls and making a move, then settled down on a farm and had a boy and three more girls. Then, after nearly a decade, Mom received what must have been quite a surprise – me!
All I have room to say here is that life for Mom was difficult in more ways than one. Though she never denied her troubles, she did not complain. She worked harder than anybody ever ought to have to work. She made every effort to spread sunshine in order to dispel the gloom around her. She loved her children and did her best to bless them in small ways that she hoped would make up for the negativity in their lives.
Mom could make something out of absolutely nothing. In fact, she was forced to do just that. I never knew when I came home from school what she might have whipped up during the day. It might be curtains. It might be some creative storage concept. It might be something like this.
Well, you can figure out what that is by clicking here.
One year, Mom fell in love with making Christmas ornaments out of felt. This turned out not to be a passing fancy. Felt became her medium and she created felt masterpieces, large and small, for the rest of her life, including nativity scenes and wedding banners. If she got bored, she’d copy patterns off whatever she could find around the house, turning them into refrigerator magnets or anything else she could think of. Her urge to put a smile on your face led her to create things that were outside the norm. I’ll never forget coming home from school one afternoon to find the exact likeness of Orville Redenbacher pinned to the kitchen door curtain! He hung there, in good company, along with the Jolly Green Giant and the Pillsbury Doughboy.
I’m pretty much convinced that Mom is in charge of all the Heavenly Christmas decorations now and that every room in her mansion is lavender.
Emmabelle had a quiet wit. Her sense of humor never ceased to get me tickled. Though she would never put herself forward to tell a story, she would, if you asked, share the treasure she held within. Nothing made me happier than to watch and listen as she and her sisters, during their rare visits, shared their memories and giggled themselves silly. Here they are again, Emmabelle and Martha, the last two surviving siblings, reuniting in 2007 after having not seen each other in years.
In 1969, Mom decided to return to keeping a diary and I am so glad she did. It’s a family history treasure and at times, it’s simply just a hoot!
Mom never liked having her picture taken, but I just love this one from the last birthday party we had for her. Here she is, worn out from partying, with Smuffy. It was a great day.
All mom’s siblings, with the exception of Martha, passed on years before she did. When in her 90’s, Mom and Martha often talked, pondering why they were still around. They came to a mutual agreement that if the Good Lord was taking that much time to build their mansions in Heaven, they must be in for something pretty palatial.
My mom made her last trip to the hospital in December of 2012. After her heart-to-heart talks with her beloved doctor and Jesus, we both knew she was ready to go Home. As we sat dangling our legs over the side of her hospital bed, she spoke of many things she’d never told me before. I knew Mom was ready to go.
As she talked, it became evident that one thing in particular gave her satisfaction when she thought about all the years she’d lived. “I’ve got seven good kids,” she said. I reassured her that she could count on every one of us to join her someday.
Mom left us on January 10, 2013, in her own quiet way, under her own terms and in her own home, just the way she wanted it.
So, Happy 100th, Mom! You said you never understood why we all claimed to have the best mother in the world. We, your seven kids – we understand!
I’d love to hear your comments. On your desktop computer, you’ll need to scroll back up to the top of this post. On various devices, you need to scroll to the bottom of the post.
If you still have your mom, love on her today. Pry some stories out of her. Ask the questions you know you’ll be sorry if you never asked. She’ll be gone before you’re ready for her leave you.
Mother’s Day will be here before you know it, and if my mom’s story will touch someone in your life, please share!
January is rolling to a close. I took a vow years ago to let January be January. In this climate, if there be any hope of killing the bugs (and I have no mercy on mosquitoes for they have no mercy on me), we need at least three weeks of good, hard freeze. I think we may have done it.
February looms, promising more of the same. I don’t like it, but I try to be nice. I look at the calendar upon which I have written my “hopefuls”. This month, I was to have organized my upstairs after I’d put away Christmas stuff, sort through and re-organize my kitchen cabinets, update my addresses and contact info, sort and dispose of excess magazines and reward myself by getting some scrapbooking done.
Aside from the scrapbooking, I’ve made headway in all the other areas. Still, I’d like to feel as though I’ve finished at least some of these categories so that I can stand back, rest my hands on my hips, heave a satisfactory sigh and say, “There now!”
(I just sighed, but it was the wrong kind.)
In March, unless spring-like weather makes an early debut and performs an intervention, I tend to get just plain ticked off about winter and start muttering a lot.
Now, I have to remind myself that I’ve recently shared with you “50 Ways to Make 2018 a Better Year”. The key word here is “better” – not “perfect”. If I’d promised in that post that the list would give you a perfect year, you likely would have found something else to waste your time reading.
I’m asking myself today, “Are things better?” I hear myself reply, “Oh, yeah! I look around the house and see that much has been done and much is left to do, but it’s better!
Golly, how I wish I had a higher gear! Alas, I have only one gear and I’m already running in it.
There are times when I look around and ask myself if any of it matters and for a fleeting moment I hanker for a dumpster.
Paper is my nemesis. But…I am a writer. Ummm…
Then, I remember this. There are two dates on every gravestone and though they may be forgotten, the dash between them is what counts. People will remember you for your dash!
We do leave a legacy in many ways – in the hearts and minds of our children, in what we build in our communities and in the lives of others, and in the stories that connect us to our heritage.
This house holds a lot of heritage.
One of the things I found as I sorted my office was a slip of paper upon which I’d written a quote attributed to Joseph Garlington. I thought I’d share it today in hopes that it puts your year and your life into perspective as it does mine.
I took this photo in December as I drove through the countryside on my way to meet Phoebe June. I pulled over to take photos of a sky such as I’d never seen before.
Under a wide-open Heaven, life is given to me to live each day in this strange place called Earth and I’m determined to thrive down here. I may not be able to make it perfect, but bit by bit, I can make it better, even if it’s something as simple as encouraging a friend or cleaning out files.
The year ahead holds days and days full of surprises and mundane things. I hope the mundane things bring you stability and peace and that all your surprises are good ones. If last year was a “dud” – and sometimes they are – don’t lose heart. Move forward into new territory and happier days.
You may be starting out the new year grieving the events of the last one. Take your time and heal. You may spend a part or all of the year in a waiting mode. (I hear ‘ya as I wait for responses from literary agents.) You may go on happily as you have been or you may step into a new adventure like a dear friend of mine who, in a couple of weeks, will leave behind the job she’s had for years and focus on her art!
Leave a comment! Scroll back up. It’s just under the title of this post. Are things better – even just a little bit – in your earthly experience? I’d love to hear what you’ve done in January (I’ll even listen to your fails) and what you plan for February!
After Christmas, what I’d really like is a long winter’s nap. The rest of the world, however, keeps trying to tell me year after year after ever-lovin’ year that now is the time to lose weight, organize myself and all my surroundings as though I have Martha Stewart’s minions at my beck and call and (using colorful flow charts, of course) reassess where I’m going in life. By the way, love that Martha. She knows her stuff!
I know where I’m going. I’m going to the kitchen to make some Pomegranate Raspberry Green Tea so that I can scoop up Phoebe June if she’s in the mood and settle onto the sofa under the furry throw and let it be -8 degrees outside if it feels like it.
I shared with my family as we gathered for Christmas that I believe we’re doing this all wrong! With the current system, we merely set ourselves up for frustration and failure – at least in the climate of the Midwest.
Why not, I asked, celebrate the new year in spring? The third week in March, when the equinox turns us all toward sunnier days, we’ll all be full of fizz and ready to get out and walk off the pounds, eat foods that aren’t piping hot and covered with melted cheese, move out the junk and organize what’s left in hopes of creating a nice spot for a vase of fresh hyacinths and maybe – just maybe – give a hoot once again about heading somewhere in life other than closer to the fire.
I fall in line with the Phoebe June Philosophy –
I try, though. Really, I try. Smuffy might dispute that. He’s one of those people who asks who’s been at his desk if he finds the tape and stapler lined up in reverse order. I’m one of those people who digs for the stapler, knowing that it’s under there somewhere. It makes me cry sometimes, and sometimes I get really organized, but it never seems to last for long.
Sometimes, it helps me to experiment with a “design re-mix”. I love jewelry and I always seemed to be leaving little stashes of it on the nightstand, even though I had a roomy jewelry armoire on the other side of the room I could have easily put it in. One day, when rearranging furniture, the armoire ended up much closer to the door. Suddenly, after years and years, I found myself taking off my jewelry and putting it away as soon as I entered the room. The new arrangement just seemed to function with how I think.
I’m always finding “helpful” ideas to spur me toward getting my act together in a Smuffy sort of way, but (hear me sigh) I tend to reject them or, to be honest – lose them. If I had a dollar for everything I lost between December 1st and the 25th, I could go out and buy Christmas all over again!
I do like using a planner, but mine is homemade. I can’t seem to think like the pre-fab ones want me to. It works better for me to use a small binder that holds 8 ½ X 5 ½” ruled sheets and create my own.
In the front, I insert monthly calendar pages that I print out myself. Behind those, I use tab dividers where I create sections pertaining to my life such as Blog, Novel, Around the House, Health, Shopping, DIY, Gifts, Scrapbooking, Ancestry and Dates to Remember. I like to include an inspirational section where I can jot down quotes or Scriptures that encourage me or that I can share with someone else.
I take my planner along on appointments and shopping trips. That way, I can ask all the questions that have been popping into my mind since the last appointment (and find the answers when I get home) and I can look for elusive items and have measurements on hand when I find them.
Now, let me be clear about something. My creative space, though it may look better than it did a week ago, remains a place I’d still find myself apologizing for if you walked into it right now. Not a chance of seeing a photo of this post-finishing three novels/holiday preparation/getting a new kitten disaster! I do however, want to share something that I try to work with every year.
I’m often seeing lists that offer to help me “eat my elephant one bite at a time”. Most of the time, they just don’t fit with my life in one way or another. Others must have been written by someone living in a totally different climate. (Who wants to clean closets in April? It’s plantin’ time!) We all have to face the truth, even if we’re self-professed “messies” – we don’t thrive in chaos. A reasonable amount of order calms us, eases our frustrations and – DANG IT! – helps us find the stapler! As much as I love wasting time, there’s only so much of it and the more unorganized we are, the easier it seems to slip away.
Here’s the list I’ve adapted for my lifestyle and the climate we live in. The best thing I’ve found about this list? None of it matters! I have given myself the gift of releasing each and every item to the winds of time and tides of happenstance. There will be, sadly, deaths in the family. There will be, joyfully, vacations and surprises! This last year, with the frantic push to complete the novel series, none of it got done except in little half-hour snatches of time and I’ve told myself that it’s OK! After all, I was busy doing something great, right?
I hope this list helps you make one of your own and I hope you don’t get bogged down by it! Adapt the items to your lifestyle and write one across each week of your 2018 calendar.
Remember to read all the way to the end of the post because the First Friday Freebie is upon us!
I’d love your comments! These aren’t the huge jobs you may tackle during the year such as cleaning out the whole garage or putting new siding on the house or installing a fish pond. These are the smaller, often ignored things that really frustrate us when they’re all piled up and the stapler becomes a minor player amongst the things that have gone missing. I’d love to hear your ideas on things we could add to the list.
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There! Now that you’ve subscribed, you can hurry on to organize your creative space and put away all the Christmas decorations. If you need help, just consult Martha – she’s much better at it than I am and hers always turns out “perfect”!
Oh, my goodness! That reminds me – Martha’s calendar always schedules a specific date for her to trim her donkeys’ hooves! Now, how in the world did I manage to leave that off my list?
Want more encouragement so you can thrive in 2018? Check out “Life, Laughter and Lemons” here!
Hustle and Bustle is right – and we don’t even have small children in the house! I LOVE Christmas, so I suppose I create my own hustle and bustle as I think of one more special thing I can wrap up or make special. This year, though my oven went out the week before Christmas, I take heart that I do not face these challenges alone. Nope – not me! I’ve got a new “helper”! There’s nothing like bringing an eight-week-old kitten into a house full of Christmas trees, paper, ribbons and freshly baked goodies.
Meet Phoebe June – we adopted her on December 7th.
This face explains why the blog has been silent since the First Friday Freebie! Things are busy here – really busy! Phoebe is clingy, and vocal, and so overly attached to me that it’s pitiful. And, I’m having a ball! I have to admit that I couldn’t be more tickled to have her if I were four years old! There’s something about having a cat that gives me joy and helps me thrive. Smuffy scored BIG points by getting me a kitty for our anniversary. He is, however, getting a little tired of hearing all the baby-talk as I coo over my precious little ball of fur.
It’s been about a decade since we’ve had a kitty and the house has gradually become less and less kitty-proof. So…Christmas + Phoebe = Not-Accomplishing-Much-Except-for-Wildcat-Patrol.
I wanted to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and I thought I would do so by sharing something that I wrote a few years ago when, as I prepared for Christmas, I was exhausted to the brink of collapse. It might make you smile and you may be able to pass it on to someone else who is feeling the stress of life – be it good stress or bad.
Enjoy your family, friends, (and of course, the furry family members) and take time to remember why we celebrate Christmas! God Bless You!
Ten days till Christmas! That explains, in part, why I’m a little slow with the announcement. One of the things that helps me thrive is blessing others, so I love giving away gifts! Midwest Storyteller offers a monthly free gift to a faithful subscriber and December’s winner is –
Sharon of Boonville, Missouri!
Remember, the First Friday Freebie rules have changed, so Sharon’s name was drawn using our new scientific and impartial method. (I put all the entries on cards, placed them face-down and had Smuffy pick one.)
These EchoTouch ladies’ gloves by Echo Design should keep Sharon’s hands warm if the forecasted “snowmageddon” hits the Midwest as the long range forecast models predict. I wouldn’t count on that prediction as things change here in the blink of an eye. Maybe I just don’t want to think about it.
The gloves come equipped with those amazing little fingertip additions that enable you to operate your smart phone and other devices without taking them off – an awesome invention, if you ask me. Similar styles are available on the EchoDesign web site, so their other styles here.
The next First Friday Freebie drawing will be on Friday, January 5, 2018. SUBSCRIBE and share this post with all your friends so they can enter also. A winner will be chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on the day of the drawing by leaving a comment as instructed in the post.
And now, here are the revised Freebie Rules.
First Friday Freebies are available to SUBSCRIBERS ONLY. That means if you come to the post through social media or someone has emailed you a link to it and you haven’t become a subscriber yet, you’ll need to hop on over to the right sidebar and do that really quick. If you are on a phone or tablet, the easiest way is to go to the “About Me” page. All it means to be a subscriber is that you’ll receive an email each time Midwest Storyteller has something new, which won’t likely be more than once or twice a week. It keeps you from missing out on all the fun and FREE STUFF! And, I’m not sharing your emails with anybody.
IMPORTANT: After subscribing, you MUST check your email to confirm the subscription or it will not appear. Then, sadly, you won’t be eligible to enter.
To enter the drawing, scroll back up to the top of this post and under the title, click on “Leave a Comment”. Subscribers who comment as directed before midnight on the first Friday of the month will enter the drawing, provided they are already on the subscribers list and live within the continental United States.
Three simple steps! Subscribe now, before you forget, and you might start the new year by winning a free gift!
Take a look at some of the other goodies and their winners here and here!
The Midwest Storyteller household has been turned upside-down and we’ll cover that story next time, so get ready to join the adventure and “share”, “like” and “pin” so all your friends don’t miss out.
I love it when you “Leave a Comment” and let me know your thoughts. Scroll back up under the title of this post and let me know what you think of the freebies so far and which features of the blog you’d like to receive more of in the future.
Have a wonderful time and enjoy the coming days as you prepare your home and your heart for Christmas. What a glorious season we celebrate!
I’m excited to announce the winner of November’s “First Friday Freebie”. A fabulous free gift is offered each month, on the first Friday, to a faithful subscriber. (Hooray for the letter, “f”!)
Subscribe now and you’ll be ready to enter to win in December! Instructions on how to do that are below.
Our November winner is…
Ginger from Prairie Home, Missouri!
Ginger left a comment on the post, saying, “I’ll take the Blessings Jar!” and she won!
You can see the Blessings Jar and it’s contents a little better in this photo –
I’m also announcing a change-up in the rules. From now on, the Freebie winner will be chosen from a drawing of the subscribers who leave a comment before midnight on the day the post appears.
I’m following the suggestion of subscriber, Liz, who was feeling that perhaps people who are busy or at work may not be able to comment until later in the day. So, a drawing will be!
If you’d like to enter the monthly give-a-way, do a few things to be sure you don’t miss out.
SUBSCRIBE! On your computer, you can do that in the right side-bar. On a phone or tablet, you may need to go to the “Contact” page. Only subscribers are eligible to win. If you do not confirm your subscription by clicking on the confirmation email you receive, you are STILL not a subscriber, so don’t forget that. You’ll get an email when there’s a new post or freebie.
“Follow” Midwest Storyteller on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Even if you forget to check your email on the first Friday, the offer will show up in your feed.
Spread the love – and the FREEBIES! “Share” Midwest Storyteller with your friends on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter. Pin this post to Pinterest and send the pin to friends you’d like to see enter to win.
You’ll be eligible to win if you are a subscriber at the time of the offer and if you live in the continental United States. Then all you’ll need to do is read the post and leave a comment as instructed!
Simple, right?
Get ready! The next free gift will be given away on Friday, December 1st!
How are you liking the freebies so far? Please scroll back up and click on “Leave a Comment” under the title of this post and let me know.
If you’d like to see who won the First Friday Freebie for October, click here.
We’ve just returned from a trip. That sort of thing throws my world out of kilter. I supposed the people who thrive on deadlines and challenges have all their blog posts ready ahead of time and scheduled to post while they’re gone.
…Nyeh…
It’s my first day back from where the landscape is shades of brown, the trees are short and scrubby, but the hair is manageable – the Desert Southwest. We’ve come home to our spot in the Midwest where the grass is green, the trees are tall and plentiful and the hair is – well – natty.
Vacations help you thrive! I like the Mark Twain quote that Joseph Rosendo always says at the end of his show, Travelscope – “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness.” It does us all good to experience people, customs and attitudes that are different from our daily grind.
I would’ve let the blog slide for another day, but it’s April 10th and I wanted to take a moment to say Happy Birthday to my mom in Heaven. She would have been ninety-nine years old today if we still had her with us. She passed away in 2013.
Mom’s family affectionately combined her first and middle names, calling her Emmabelle. No one who knew her ever called her anything else. When I was at “that age” (you know the one), I thought hers was a funny, old-fashioned name. Later, I came to think it the most beautiful name in the world.
Other than a vast difference in height, Mom and I looked a lot alike. Here we are side by side. Isn’t she lovely? Now that she has shed the effects of her ninety-four years on earth, I’m sure she must look like this once again.
Mom thrived amongst great adversity. She loved her seven children and did her best to raise them, though life for her was no picnic. It was hard, folks. Difficult. Emmabelle, however, made the best of every single day. Though shy and reserved, she had a quiet, ready wit and a great sense of humor. Overflowing with creativity, Mom always seemed to whip up something to make life easier or to brighten up the atmosphere.
And the holidays? Mom loved all of them, especially Christmas! I can’t even describe how she put the joy into it in her own calm and quiet way.
When I was a kid, Mom, latched onto an old typewriter and a touch-typing manual and decided to teach herself to type. She sat it up back in the utility room next to the old, wringer washing machine and worked at it every day. At a loss as to what to write, she made notes on what she did every day. I never gave it much thought. After all, your mom’s life is pretty much a drag, right? I thought it was really neat that she was learning something new “at her age”. Yeah, I was pathetic.
One day when I was a teenager, I went to the utility room to grab some clean clothes. I looked down at Mom’s typewriter. The sheet wrapped around the roller was still at the place where she’d left off. It said:
“What a day! The old cow had a calf. The old cat had kittens. The old man had a fit!”
I decided to read Mom’s diary more often.
I have her birthday doubly on my mind this year because during this vacation, we visited my cousin who is facing the task of going through the belongings of her recently deceased parents. Her mother, Martha, my mom’s older sister, was quite a lady. Much alike, we grew to have a strong bond over the last eight years of her life. She died at age ninety-eight and I miss her terribly. After Mom left us, I’d call Martha often. We’d talk for an hour or two, howling our heads off at all the old family stories. Through those talks, I felt I got to know Mom better than ever.
Some people don’t like to look back, but I find that my family stories and my heritage help me thrive. Mom loved to work on the family tree and I’ve taken her research back further. I can’t help but wonder how she’d react to knowing that she is directly descended from kings and queens.
I’m encouraged by Mom’s example. If ever a woman took her lemons and made lemonade – Emmabelle made a sweet batch! Most people may not have thought of her as a strong woman, but as the years go by I’ve come to think of her as the strongest woman I know. And those seven children? They all, as the Scripture says, “rise up and call her blessed”.
Don’t let the “old timers” in your family go without hearing their story. You’ll be surprised and even amazed at what they’ve been through. It’ll help you thrive!
More stories from Emmabelle and Martha coming soon!
SUBSCRIBE, so you don’t miss it!
Questions? Comments? Who do you need to hear stories from before it’s too late?!
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