So, I’m really not much of a princess, I swear. I’m not married to a prince (well, yes, he is Prince
Charming to me, but not in the sovereign sense), nor is my mother the Queen (hmm, maybe I should rethink
that statement as well). As for other definitions, I am not a fairytale princess: I don’t live in a
tower, I’ve never been poisoned by a witch and none of my shoes are made from glass. Conversely, I’m
also not a spoiled rich girl: I take out garbage, buy clothes at a consignment store, do dishes and can bait
a hook.
However, there is an addendum to my first statement. I wear tiaras when playing cards and drinking
whiskey, I have clothing that has feathers on it, and I don’t like to be cold or walk far in the rain (unless
it’s on purpose). So when I moved to the city, I realized right away I had to make some changes; I had to
lose part of my inner princess.
First of all, I live in an artsy area, so thank goodness my wardrobe choices didn’t have to change.
Actually, I found I could get even a little more creative and still not seem too far out there. No, what I
had to change was my attitude.
I’ve never been a city mouse. Actually, I’ve never been a country mouse either, unless you count the
time my ex-husband and I lived on a half-acre of land and had chickens and ducks and tomato plants and
a rooster that annoyed the whole neighborhood. No, I’ve always been a suburbs kinda girl. Sidewalks,
driveways, garages, and neighbors who kept to themselves pretty much - that was the norm of my
existence. Walking to a store or restaurant was unheard of. Walking the dog was the only time I’d
venture out. I would drive home, open the garage, pull the car in, close the garage and walk into the
house. If I went outside it was to sit on our back deck. I saw our neighbors when we’d have a party or
when shoveling snow from a big snowfall. (I guess I should be clear – I watched my husband shovel
snow as I played with the dogs and chatted with the neighbors).
Being a suburb mouse is great. It’s what we all know and feel comfortable with. Being a city mouse is
more of an adventure. It’s a life where you aren’t sure what will come next. It’s a life filled with
scraping ice off of the windshield yourself, because your husband left for work early. And not just ice off
the windshield. Since I wasn’t able to just walk into the garage and jump into my warm, dry car, I had to
navigate down icy steps to do it. Wanting to be safe, I realized I needed to salt the steps. There really
isn’t much salt in those little Morton salt shakers.
Being a city mouse means changing how you look at things. Wanting to totally live outside our comfort
zone, we chose a 100 year old home. Old homes are charming and warm and inviting. Old homes
generally don’t have Jacuzzi bathtubs, basements with bars and a pantry the size of a small bedroom.
Old homes don’t have much closet space. Princesses tend to have large wardrobes. Since I’m not really
a princess, my wardrobe is only kind of large. So two weeks after moving in, I am still trying to find
creative ways to store my clothes, and they are all spread out throughout the house. Soon I will need a
map of the places I have squirreled away my wardrobe. (Note to self: remove belts and hats before
turning on the oven). However, I have found that what I lack in space, I have garnered two-fold in
charm.
Being a city princess isn’t that bad. I know my neighbors better here in two weeks than I ever did in the
‘burbs. I can walk just about anyplace worthwhile. I have a front porch. And I will use it. I already know
my mail carriers name and that she is left-handed. I can put out my used treasures in the alley and the
“pickers” will magically make them disappear. I have found more dog-lovers per square foot than I
knew existed. And best of all, I found out that I am stronger willed than I ever thought I was – and that if
I put my mind to something, I truly can do it. Here’s to a new adventure and here’s to a new type of
princess. And here’s to my 180 shift of the show Green Acres – Hello, City Life!
Monday, January 30, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Every Day is Special
“If I had to live my life over, I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.” Erma Bombeck
“I think I’m going to wear the diamond earrings your dad gave me, even though it’s not a special occasion.”
This was a comment from my mom yesterday.
“I also think I’ll wear the wedding band I had re-designed, even though it’s not a special day or anything.”
She was speaking to the wrong person. I jumped ship on the “waiting for a special time game” a long time ago. I am the person that wears my fake fur with my jeans, my 1940’s fedora with a dress and burns all the candles in my house on a daily basis. So I really thought I belonged to the “every day is special” club. But, I was wrong.
Having just moved, I found out that I have a box of things that I obviously had been storing for a long time. I thought I’d found all of them in the last move, six years ago. Nope – this box was a treasure trove of outdated stuff that apparently I’d set aside for the right time, or the correct special occasion. The box had been carried to our attic, and had just been sitting there – no urgency to open it. It was marked “Karen – mementos and stuff”. Wow, that explains all the contents inside, doesn’t it? It’s no wonder it had been carried from move to move, never opened.
My curiosity finally got the best of me and I sat on the attic floor with the box between my legs. I blew the dust off the top and slowly pulled the yellow tape off the top. I was greeted by a shoe. One, tiny, white baby shoe. It too, had faded with time – since it was now almost 30 years old. It was scuffed and worn, a testament of the busy and happy life of the little boy that wore it. Peering through my tears, I reached down again inside this time capsule. This time I was greeted with a book. The corners were frayed and worn, and when I opened it I saw the handwriting of yet another little boy – his name written in the awkward penmanship of a five-year-old. Lost in my world now, I kept digging. Photos here, cards and letters there. It was an emotional trip down memory lane. Then I found it – there at the bottom of the box. A ring. A small, gold ring with either a ruby or a garnet on it. It was the ring presented to my mom on her 16th birthday. I had set it aside so I could wear it on special occasions. It’d been buried for all these years. I put it on my finger and felt the closeness of mom. I am the one that said I don’t need a vase to remember Grandma. I am the one that is purging my life of all the “stuff” I have acquired through the years. But I realized that maybe I’d hardened my heart a little too much – and tried to give away too much of me. And that some memories are meant to be shared – or in this case worn.
I’m sorry I judged you mom for not wearing your diamond earrings more often. But just like your earrings, I now will wear your childhood ring with love and pride. And when I look at it, it is my reminder that everyday really is special, and I will never save my treasures for a better time – because that time is right now.
“I think I’m going to wear the diamond earrings your dad gave me, even though it’s not a special occasion.”
This was a comment from my mom yesterday.
“I also think I’ll wear the wedding band I had re-designed, even though it’s not a special day or anything.”
She was speaking to the wrong person. I jumped ship on the “waiting for a special time game” a long time ago. I am the person that wears my fake fur with my jeans, my 1940’s fedora with a dress and burns all the candles in my house on a daily basis. So I really thought I belonged to the “every day is special” club. But, I was wrong.
Having just moved, I found out that I have a box of things that I obviously had been storing for a long time. I thought I’d found all of them in the last move, six years ago. Nope – this box was a treasure trove of outdated stuff that apparently I’d set aside for the right time, or the correct special occasion. The box had been carried to our attic, and had just been sitting there – no urgency to open it. It was marked “Karen – mementos and stuff”. Wow, that explains all the contents inside, doesn’t it? It’s no wonder it had been carried from move to move, never opened.
My curiosity finally got the best of me and I sat on the attic floor with the box between my legs. I blew the dust off the top and slowly pulled the yellow tape off the top. I was greeted by a shoe. One, tiny, white baby shoe. It too, had faded with time – since it was now almost 30 years old. It was scuffed and worn, a testament of the busy and happy life of the little boy that wore it. Peering through my tears, I reached down again inside this time capsule. This time I was greeted with a book. The corners were frayed and worn, and when I opened it I saw the handwriting of yet another little boy – his name written in the awkward penmanship of a five-year-old. Lost in my world now, I kept digging. Photos here, cards and letters there. It was an emotional trip down memory lane. Then I found it – there at the bottom of the box. A ring. A small, gold ring with either a ruby or a garnet on it. It was the ring presented to my mom on her 16th birthday. I had set it aside so I could wear it on special occasions. It’d been buried for all these years. I put it on my finger and felt the closeness of mom. I am the one that said I don’t need a vase to remember Grandma. I am the one that is purging my life of all the “stuff” I have acquired through the years. But I realized that maybe I’d hardened my heart a little too much – and tried to give away too much of me. And that some memories are meant to be shared – or in this case worn.
I’m sorry I judged you mom for not wearing your diamond earrings more often. But just like your earrings, I now will wear your childhood ring with love and pride. And when I look at it, it is my reminder that everyday really is special, and I will never save my treasures for a better time – because that time is right now.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Seasons Eatings
‘Tis the season – for all things wonderful. That of course includes food. So even though I strive to eat healthy the rest of the year – it all goes out the window during “Seasons Eating”. Of course those of us that are professional seasonal eaters know that tight jeans are not the attire to wear. It just makes sense that the “stretchier” the clothes, the more you can eat. Here then, is my theme song for those moments.
This song is meant to be sung VERY loudly to the tune of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland”. Feel free to break into harmony during the chorus!
Candy Canes, they’re around us
Sugar cookies, they astound us –
A beautiful sight, I’m happy tonight,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants-land.
Sweet egg nog, it’s required
The great taste, I never tire.
We sing the sweet song, of food (right or wrong),
Walking in my comfy sweats pant land.
In the kitchen we will find a large ham, and pretend that it is healthy fare.
We’ll have lots of fun with Mr. Hambone, and all the sandwiches we will prepare.
Later on, we’ll conspire,
As we lay by the fire –
Our stomachs are quite full, the calories a toll,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants land.
In the kitchen we will find the rum balls, and pretend they don’t have alcohol.
We’ll have lots of fun with all the rum balls, until the little kiddies all fall down.
When we eat, ain’t it thrilling?
Though our clothes, they are filling.
We’ll frolic and eat, till we fall asleep,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants land.
This song is meant to be sung VERY loudly to the tune of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland”. Feel free to break into harmony during the chorus!
Candy Canes, they’re around us
Sugar cookies, they astound us –
A beautiful sight, I’m happy tonight,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants-land.
Sweet egg nog, it’s required
The great taste, I never tire.
We sing the sweet song, of food (right or wrong),
Walking in my comfy sweats pant land.
In the kitchen we will find a large ham, and pretend that it is healthy fare.
We’ll have lots of fun with Mr. Hambone, and all the sandwiches we will prepare.
Later on, we’ll conspire,
As we lay by the fire –
Our stomachs are quite full, the calories a toll,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants land.
In the kitchen we will find the rum balls, and pretend they don’t have alcohol.
We’ll have lots of fun with all the rum balls, until the little kiddies all fall down.
When we eat, ain’t it thrilling?
Though our clothes, they are filling.
We’ll frolic and eat, till we fall asleep,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants land.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Coco Wasn't Always Right
“When accessorizing, always take off the last thing you put on.”
Coco Chanel said this. And up until now, I normally followed these words of wisdom.
For some reason, my thoughts have done a 180. Actually, my thoughts have been thinking that Coco was wrong my entire life. But lately my seemly fashion-safe self has gone out the window. Now, I am not any sort of fashion maven. And I’ve been known to dress, ah, “out of the box” shall we say. (My sister goes as far as to say I dress in costume. Seeing as how I love her, I will consider this a compliment.) But as of late I’ve felt the calling to just keep going.
Yesterday, not only did I NOT take off the last thing I put on, but I added more! I added a necklace to the already completely accessorized outfit. And it felt good! It felt complete! I actually felt free!
Ok, I know, we are only talking about fashion and clothing here. But there is something psychological about it as well. The rule about fashion is: There are no rules! Gilda Radner said, “I base my fashion sense on what doesn’t itch.” And we loved Gilda for that.
In her defense, Coco had some other great quotes, such as: “The best color in the whole world is the color that looks good on you.” That’s more like it. Definitely more out of the box.
Personally, I really don’t think anyone else really cares what we wear. I mean if they like it they may comment on it. (Thank you to the clerk that said she loved my beautiful outfit on my day of over-accessorizing.) But does it really matter who wears what color and how many bracelets they may have on? (Um, is four too many?)
Fashion, for what it’s worth, is something that is supposed to make us feel good about ourselves. Concordantly, what makes us feel good about ourselves may not always be in fashion. I say, hurrah! Of course I don’t make my living in the fashion industry…I also don’t follow trends, per se. (Ok, I had to do the feather earring thing – it just called to me). Since I buy most of my clothes and accessories at the Goodwill and thrift stores, I usually am wearing something that was either a style flop or that was in style years ago. And I pair it with something that normally wouldn’t go with it. I refuse to be all “matchy-matchy”. (Except the other day with feather earrings and a western belt – but of course I threw on my dad’s bomber jacket from WWII and all of a sudden it felt “right”).
Don’t worry – my husband doesn’t hide in embarrassment when we go out in public. I am not ready for a support group yet. On the other hand when a friend called me “Grandma Auntie Mame” the other day, I had to smile to myself. We are what we make ourselves. When Coco Chanel said don’t pound on the wall in order to make it a door, (or something like that) I think she meant to say don’t try to be something other than yourself.
Peacocks (and male at that) aren’t the only ones meant to show off their colorful plumage. So if it’s your secret desire to strut your fancy stuff I say “go for it!” Give in to your moxie and sassy self. If you have things sitting in your closet/attic/basement that you’ve not worn because it wasn’t in style or was too flashy or weird or eclectic, well for heaven’s sake – go get it! What are you waiting for? Let your inner eclectic self shine! “Fashion is what you adopt when you don't know who you are.” - Quentin Crisp
We all have an inner flair dying to get out. If it feels strange at first, fake it ‘til you make it. If your inner flair is quiet and subdued, I am not saying to change it. If, like Coco, taking off that last accessory feels right, then do it! But if you are like me, and you secretly just want to add more, there should be nothing stopping you.
And with that, I leave you with words from Mark Twain: “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”
Coco Chanel said this. And up until now, I normally followed these words of wisdom.
For some reason, my thoughts have done a 180. Actually, my thoughts have been thinking that Coco was wrong my entire life. But lately my seemly fashion-safe self has gone out the window. Now, I am not any sort of fashion maven. And I’ve been known to dress, ah, “out of the box” shall we say. (My sister goes as far as to say I dress in costume. Seeing as how I love her, I will consider this a compliment.) But as of late I’ve felt the calling to just keep going.
Yesterday, not only did I NOT take off the last thing I put on, but I added more! I added a necklace to the already completely accessorized outfit. And it felt good! It felt complete! I actually felt free!
Ok, I know, we are only talking about fashion and clothing here. But there is something psychological about it as well. The rule about fashion is: There are no rules! Gilda Radner said, “I base my fashion sense on what doesn’t itch.” And we loved Gilda for that.
In her defense, Coco had some other great quotes, such as: “The best color in the whole world is the color that looks good on you.” That’s more like it. Definitely more out of the box.
Personally, I really don’t think anyone else really cares what we wear. I mean if they like it they may comment on it. (Thank you to the clerk that said she loved my beautiful outfit on my day of over-accessorizing.) But does it really matter who wears what color and how many bracelets they may have on? (Um, is four too many?)
Fashion, for what it’s worth, is something that is supposed to make us feel good about ourselves. Concordantly, what makes us feel good about ourselves may not always be in fashion. I say, hurrah! Of course I don’t make my living in the fashion industry…I also don’t follow trends, per se. (Ok, I had to do the feather earring thing – it just called to me). Since I buy most of my clothes and accessories at the Goodwill and thrift stores, I usually am wearing something that was either a style flop or that was in style years ago. And I pair it with something that normally wouldn’t go with it. I refuse to be all “matchy-matchy”. (Except the other day with feather earrings and a western belt – but of course I threw on my dad’s bomber jacket from WWII and all of a sudden it felt “right”).
Don’t worry – my husband doesn’t hide in embarrassment when we go out in public. I am not ready for a support group yet. On the other hand when a friend called me “Grandma Auntie Mame” the other day, I had to smile to myself. We are what we make ourselves. When Coco Chanel said don’t pound on the wall in order to make it a door, (or something like that) I think she meant to say don’t try to be something other than yourself.
Peacocks (and male at that) aren’t the only ones meant to show off their colorful plumage. So if it’s your secret desire to strut your fancy stuff I say “go for it!” Give in to your moxie and sassy self. If you have things sitting in your closet/attic/basement that you’ve not worn because it wasn’t in style or was too flashy or weird or eclectic, well for heaven’s sake – go get it! What are you waiting for? Let your inner eclectic self shine! “Fashion is what you adopt when you don't know who you are.” - Quentin Crisp
We all have an inner flair dying to get out. If it feels strange at first, fake it ‘til you make it. If your inner flair is quiet and subdued, I am not saying to change it. If, like Coco, taking off that last accessory feels right, then do it! But if you are like me, and you secretly just want to add more, there should be nothing stopping you.
And with that, I leave you with words from Mark Twain: “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Why Change Twice?
This time of year, it’s tough to get going when most of the time it is dark when we leave our homes and dark when we return. I have a theory that Christmas lights were invented to cheer up those that are suffering from S.A.D.D. – a little light can go a long way during the long, dark, cold and grey winter months.
My friends and I actually have a saying when this short span of daylight arrives: “Why Change Twice?”. When we get home from work, all we want to do is get comfy, make tea (or, let’s be honest, drink wine) and settle in for the night. Usually for me, that involves changing into nice and comfy sweat pants and my husband’s t-shirt. But lately, I’ve really been into this comfy nesting thing. So much so, that I’ve started skipping the sweat pants and going straight for the pajamas. Yes, even at 6pm. Seriously, why change twice?
There is something about the darkness – the long, drawn-out darkness – that wants me to stay home and curl up in front of the fire. If I plan anything at night during these winter months, I make it a practice to not go home first. Once I’m home, I am, as they say, “dead in the sled”. Done. Capoot. Finished. The minute my foot hits the floor in my house, the clothes start coming off and I head straight to the bedroom for the flannels. Sexy, I know.
The good thing is I’ve been able to make a believer out of my husband. I have to admit, it was a tough sell at first. He came home the other night and I was working on my laptop at the kitchen table. In my jammies. At 5:30 pm.
“You ok?” He asked.
“Sure, why?”
“Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine. Just working. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you have your pajamas on. It’s not even dinner time.”
“And your point is…”
“Um, like I said, it’s not even dinner time.”
“Try it. Go change. I’m comfortable. I’m relaxed. I’m cozy. I’m warm. Why should I come home and change out of my work clothes and then a couple hours later change again into my pajamas? It only makes sense. Go change.”
“Does this mean I don’t get dinner? Once when I was little my mom made me get my pajamas on and sent me to bed without dinner. I’m hungry.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m not your mom, and yes, I am making dinner. Go. Put on your pajamas.”
And the rest is history. I think from here on out - December through March - all our dinner parties will be pajama parties. Our neighbors have already gotten used to the fact that I go outside to get the mail in my pajamas. I don’t think they’d care one way or another if I walk the dogs in my jammies too. Heck, I may just start a trend. The “Why Change Twice” trend. Try it – I know I can convert you too!
My friends and I actually have a saying when this short span of daylight arrives: “Why Change Twice?”. When we get home from work, all we want to do is get comfy, make tea (or, let’s be honest, drink wine) and settle in for the night. Usually for me, that involves changing into nice and comfy sweat pants and my husband’s t-shirt. But lately, I’ve really been into this comfy nesting thing. So much so, that I’ve started skipping the sweat pants and going straight for the pajamas. Yes, even at 6pm. Seriously, why change twice?
There is something about the darkness – the long, drawn-out darkness – that wants me to stay home and curl up in front of the fire. If I plan anything at night during these winter months, I make it a practice to not go home first. Once I’m home, I am, as they say, “dead in the sled”. Done. Capoot. Finished. The minute my foot hits the floor in my house, the clothes start coming off and I head straight to the bedroom for the flannels. Sexy, I know.
The good thing is I’ve been able to make a believer out of my husband. I have to admit, it was a tough sell at first. He came home the other night and I was working on my laptop at the kitchen table. In my jammies. At 5:30 pm.
“You ok?” He asked.
“Sure, why?”
“Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine. Just working. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you have your pajamas on. It’s not even dinner time.”
“And your point is…”
“Um, like I said, it’s not even dinner time.”
“Try it. Go change. I’m comfortable. I’m relaxed. I’m cozy. I’m warm. Why should I come home and change out of my work clothes and then a couple hours later change again into my pajamas? It only makes sense. Go change.”
“Does this mean I don’t get dinner? Once when I was little my mom made me get my pajamas on and sent me to bed without dinner. I’m hungry.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m not your mom, and yes, I am making dinner. Go. Put on your pajamas.”
And the rest is history. I think from here on out - December through March - all our dinner parties will be pajama parties. Our neighbors have already gotten used to the fact that I go outside to get the mail in my pajamas. I don’t think they’d care one way or another if I walk the dogs in my jammies too. Heck, I may just start a trend. The “Why Change Twice” trend. Try it – I know I can convert you too!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Big Girl Christmas
It happens every year. It sneaks up on me like the last five pounds snuck up on me last month. I know the date is always December 25th. I know that I only have a certain amount of time to get my act together. In the end, it usually stresses me out and leaves me feeling a little lost, like maybe there should be “more”.
What I have finally come to realize is that Christmas is not supposed to be a race to the finish line. It’s not a contest of “those with the most gifts (to give or to receive) win”. This year Christmas is an even larger challenge for me as we will be moving. That’s right, packing everything in boxes smack dab during the time that I am supposed to be decking the halls.
Sitting back and taking a deep breath is now on my “to do” list. However I look at it, this is not a win-win situation. Except for the fact that we did sell our home – and in this economy I guess that is just about the best Christmas gift I could receive.
So I have made my own special big girl Christmas list for this year, in order to keep my sanity in check. It doesn’t include presents – since I am actually trying to downsize. It doesn’t include (much) food – since I am actually trying to downsize.
Karen’s Big Girl Christmas List
1) Enough boxes to pack all my stuff in. Since I’m trying to get rid of a lot of the stuff, hopefully the ratio will be even in the end.
2) Enough time to prepare loving meals and bake the special cookies my sons’ love.
3) Enough sense to remember to take deep breaths, do my yoga and treat my body with kindness.
4) Enough energy to take my sweet dogs on their much anticipated walks – no matter what the weather.
5) Enough gratitude to devote time to God - giving thanks for all my blessings.
6) Enough room in my jeans to go ahead and have just one bite of pumpkin pie – with whipped cream.
7) Enough courage to realize that I don’t have to put up a Christmas tree just to take it down in a couple days. I can find charming and creative ways to decorate without going overboard as usual.
8) Enough wisdom to realize that all the decorations and gifts and food don’t matter. What matters is the love of my family and friends. It’s the support they give me when it’s needed most.
Christmas isn’t always a Norman Rockwell painting – actually, it usually never is. (I wonder if Norman actually lived the life depicted in those paintings.) Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Christmas is also the joy and wonder that we want to experience all year long. Christmas is my own personal role model – the bar to set for everyday, not just in December.
It’s tough to be a big girl in a season full of childlike wonder. It’s tough to sit back and live in the real world. But the one thing I am discovering is that the wonder is always there. It’s hidden behind the future expectations of a fantastic holiday season. The wonder is ours to grasp moment by moment and day by day. It’s not an eleven month ramp up to the most spectacular day of the year. Our lives are meant to be Christmas every day. With or without a Christmas tree and tons of presents. So my goal is to combine it all. My Christmas wish in a nutshell is to live each day – no, each moment – being content and happy and stress free. To know that to live in bliss, to live as my soul intended, is the best gift I could ever give to myself and my loved ones. So, let the celebration begin!
What I have finally come to realize is that Christmas is not supposed to be a race to the finish line. It’s not a contest of “those with the most gifts (to give or to receive) win”. This year Christmas is an even larger challenge for me as we will be moving. That’s right, packing everything in boxes smack dab during the time that I am supposed to be decking the halls.
Sitting back and taking a deep breath is now on my “to do” list. However I look at it, this is not a win-win situation. Except for the fact that we did sell our home – and in this economy I guess that is just about the best Christmas gift I could receive.
So I have made my own special big girl Christmas list for this year, in order to keep my sanity in check. It doesn’t include presents – since I am actually trying to downsize. It doesn’t include (much) food – since I am actually trying to downsize.
Karen’s Big Girl Christmas List
1) Enough boxes to pack all my stuff in. Since I’m trying to get rid of a lot of the stuff, hopefully the ratio will be even in the end.
2) Enough time to prepare loving meals and bake the special cookies my sons’ love.
3) Enough sense to remember to take deep breaths, do my yoga and treat my body with kindness.
4) Enough energy to take my sweet dogs on their much anticipated walks – no matter what the weather.
5) Enough gratitude to devote time to God - giving thanks for all my blessings.
6) Enough room in my jeans to go ahead and have just one bite of pumpkin pie – with whipped cream.
7) Enough courage to realize that I don’t have to put up a Christmas tree just to take it down in a couple days. I can find charming and creative ways to decorate without going overboard as usual.
8) Enough wisdom to realize that all the decorations and gifts and food don’t matter. What matters is the love of my family and friends. It’s the support they give me when it’s needed most.
Christmas isn’t always a Norman Rockwell painting – actually, it usually never is. (I wonder if Norman actually lived the life depicted in those paintings.) Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Christmas is also the joy and wonder that we want to experience all year long. Christmas is my own personal role model – the bar to set for everyday, not just in December.
It’s tough to be a big girl in a season full of childlike wonder. It’s tough to sit back and live in the real world. But the one thing I am discovering is that the wonder is always there. It’s hidden behind the future expectations of a fantastic holiday season. The wonder is ours to grasp moment by moment and day by day. It’s not an eleven month ramp up to the most spectacular day of the year. Our lives are meant to be Christmas every day. With or without a Christmas tree and tons of presents. So my goal is to combine it all. My Christmas wish in a nutshell is to live each day – no, each moment – being content and happy and stress free. To know that to live in bliss, to live as my soul intended, is the best gift I could ever give to myself and my loved ones. So, let the celebration begin!
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
There's an APP for that
I love modern technology. Who knew how close Gene Roddenberry really would be? I swore I’d not get all “high tech” but sometimes it’s just hard to resist. My handsome husband is a self-proclaimed Star Trek freak – and I spent the first few years of our relationship making fun of him and the entire Science Fiction genre.
I’ve come a long way since then – trust me. I am glad my husband knows about computers and gadgets and all things electric. (I’m equally glad his Explorer no longer has the bumper sticker that read: Star Fleet Academy).
I was one of the people that kind of fought doing everything on my desk top computer. Heaven forbid something happened. Then of course it moved to a laptop, and now my phone. I literally can do everything from my “smart” phone. The fact that the darn thing is smarter than I am frustrates me just a bit, but then I bring myself back to earth when I realize my phone actually makes me appear more intelligent than I may be. I mean, I even looked up the spelling of Gene’s last name on my phone.
These phones really are incredible. I have an app for just about everything I need. I have an app for counting calories. (That one has not been used). I have an app for healthy recipes. (Sometimes used). I have an app on wine tasting. (Many times used). If I want to know how many steps I’ve taken, there’s an app for that. If I want to listen to a radio station in Italy, there’s an app for that. I’ve also downloaded the app for learning to speak Italian. Oh, and the one that specializes in Italian wine. Next will be the app for “how to afford to rent a villa in Italy near a vineyard”.
I have an app for my 3-year-old granddaughter (she had to show me how to use it). I have an app for the weather , an app to teach me how to play my ukulele, and an app for daily uplifting or spiritual quotes. Today’s is: “Creativity is a natural extension of our enthusiasm.” Earl Nightingale.
I have a Zippo lighter app to use at classic rock concerts and a flashlight app to use in dark movie theaters. A self-help app to help motivate myself and an errands check list app to keep me more organized. (I guess I should use that one more.) I have a book nook app if I actually want to read a book on the tiny little screen and a translator on how to say my name in other languages. (It’s the same in most). I have the required Angry Birds app, and the much loved Words with Friends app.
There is even an app called “The Great App Show” that tells me which apps I can’t live without. I seriously do love the logical apps – such as GPS and weather. I find some obscure apps quite handy such as the dog whistle app or the Gas Buddy app (finds cheapest gas near you.) I suppose at this point in my life if you took away my smart phone, I may be a little upset. I’m not addicted to it, but I am becoming dependent on it. I Google (the need to know NOW) and text (gotta love it) and Facebook (status updates rock – are you with me?) right there with the rest of the gang.
But there is one very special reason that I love my smart phone. It has email. My mom (who lives in Southern California) and I email every day, no matter what. With the three-hour time difference it often makes phone calls challenging. So the fact that I can write my mom either a long letter or a short “I love you” every day, no matter where in the world I am, means so very much to me. It keeps us very connected, despite the many miles separating us. It has brought my mom closer and made my world a bit smaller – and for that I’m grateful.
I’ve come a long way since then – trust me. I am glad my husband knows about computers and gadgets and all things electric. (I’m equally glad his Explorer no longer has the bumper sticker that read: Star Fleet Academy).
I was one of the people that kind of fought doing everything on my desk top computer. Heaven forbid something happened. Then of course it moved to a laptop, and now my phone. I literally can do everything from my “smart” phone. The fact that the darn thing is smarter than I am frustrates me just a bit, but then I bring myself back to earth when I realize my phone actually makes me appear more intelligent than I may be. I mean, I even looked up the spelling of Gene’s last name on my phone.
These phones really are incredible. I have an app for just about everything I need. I have an app for counting calories. (That one has not been used). I have an app for healthy recipes. (Sometimes used). I have an app on wine tasting. (Many times used). If I want to know how many steps I’ve taken, there’s an app for that. If I want to listen to a radio station in Italy, there’s an app for that. I’ve also downloaded the app for learning to speak Italian. Oh, and the one that specializes in Italian wine. Next will be the app for “how to afford to rent a villa in Italy near a vineyard”.
I have an app for my 3-year-old granddaughter (she had to show me how to use it). I have an app for the weather , an app to teach me how to play my ukulele, and an app for daily uplifting or spiritual quotes. Today’s is: “Creativity is a natural extension of our enthusiasm.” Earl Nightingale.
I have a Zippo lighter app to use at classic rock concerts and a flashlight app to use in dark movie theaters. A self-help app to help motivate myself and an errands check list app to keep me more organized. (I guess I should use that one more.) I have a book nook app if I actually want to read a book on the tiny little screen and a translator on how to say my name in other languages. (It’s the same in most). I have the required Angry Birds app, and the much loved Words with Friends app.
There is even an app called “The Great App Show” that tells me which apps I can’t live without. I seriously do love the logical apps – such as GPS and weather. I find some obscure apps quite handy such as the dog whistle app or the Gas Buddy app (finds cheapest gas near you.) I suppose at this point in my life if you took away my smart phone, I may be a little upset. I’m not addicted to it, but I am becoming dependent on it. I Google (the need to know NOW) and text (gotta love it) and Facebook (status updates rock – are you with me?) right there with the rest of the gang.
But there is one very special reason that I love my smart phone. It has email. My mom (who lives in Southern California) and I email every day, no matter what. With the three-hour time difference it often makes phone calls challenging. So the fact that I can write my mom either a long letter or a short “I love you” every day, no matter where in the world I am, means so very much to me. It keeps us very connected, despite the many miles separating us. It has brought my mom closer and made my world a bit smaller – and for that I’m grateful.
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