Mom Makes the Best Water

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I don't know why, but my entire family drinks out of my water glass.  Everyone else could have a full glass or cup of their own, but somehow everyone reaches for mine.  It never used to bother me so much but now it does.  Perhaps, because the boys are at a gross age where they leave a film or floaty "things" in my glass.  Perhaps, because Chief drains it before I've had a chance to drink out of it.  Perhaps, it's because I get tired of the ice running out when I go to fill my glass after it's been assaulted by another family member.  I cry out to them, "Why do you all drink my water?"  Their universal response, "Your water tastes better."  Really?  Yes, is their earnest reply.  I guess I'll leave it at that, but do I try to beat them to the punch and hand them their cups and glasses first.

Keeping It Real

Writing letters is one of the activities in Little Man's class during the school day.  They are usually very sweet and this last one was not only sweet, but a great reminder of what a kind, young man he is.  The past couple of weeks have been Thanksgiving Sharing at his school and families are asked to bring in extra items for families in need, if at all possible.  The weeks were themed (household/personal items, non-perishable, Thanksgiving dinner, with frozens on the final day).  This is the second letter asking me for a frozen turkey to donate--the first letter he wrote "frozn turky," this time he called it a "chikin."  "Chikin" is his fall-back meat--he calls everything chicken: pork, beef, turkey and chicken.

In his first letter to me, he wrote that he was sorry that my coffee mug broke.  He had nothing to do with it breaking--I accidentally broke it and he just happened to see it all go down.



These are the times you recall--like a mantra--when your last nerve is twitching and you find your children jumping rope with it...then take a deep breath and let it all out.  It will be alright.

A Hug for a Stranger



I was going to meet someone for coffee this morning, when I saw a much older man who was very similar in carriage and build as this friend I was meeting.  As we walked towards each other, I couldn't resist telling him that I was holding back frantic waving, because he looked like someone I knew.  He asked me if I liked this person and I said yes.  He asked me, "Do you like him enough to give him a hug?"  I said, "Yes" and gave him a big hug and happily continued on my way.  The little old guy was too cute in his beret and looked so similar to Taylor, who, after all that, forgot to meet me.  (He's prone to that.)  I enjoyed the sunshine and the birds in the tree above me, who were singing and vying for my muffin crumbs.  I also enjoyed the impromptu hug with a stranger because everyone else wandering around the Biltmore late this morning were too good to be bothered with a simple smile.  Too bad for them--they probably think a dinner salad is meant to be an entire meal and don't use salad dressing, either!

Keep it moving

So, that funk that I'd been in made me rethink some things that I've wanted to do as well as my relationship to my people and surroundings.  It's so easy to let your thoughts circle the drain and once you go there it's a slippery climb back out.  So, I reframed that thinking--don't ask how, this time I just decided--and I noticed a lot of synchronicity happening in my life.  A LOT.

For example, after my doctor's appointment (a few weeks ago) I ran into a fellow yogini and we talked writing, life and yoga and it really energized me and kicked me back to where I was before.  I had spent so many weeks living in my mind and dwelling on things that needed to be let go that I couldn't write, work or do much of anything with real presence and awareness.  I let go of the ever-tightening grip I had on myself and just let myself be and things started to feel better and the world felt right, again.  It's so easy to forget that life is transitory.  The real trouble begins when you think you can keep things the same or perfect--the Wheel of Fortune has to keep spinning, otherwise life becomes stagnant and people stop trying.  Stagnant water really stinks.  It needs to move for there to be life.  The last thing you want is to be stinky, right? 

Returning to the back that I promised I wouldn't whine about--I have to keep it moving or that, too, will become stagnant.  The thing is that we are so preprogrammed to move towards a destination and some sort of end result or goal that the thought of moving becomes nearly paralyzing when you realize that you have no place or destination in mind.  I used to be such an ambler and now I have no idea how to do that, which is part of my current situation.  I'd say problem, but I'm trying to stay positive--it's something to investigate and not judge.  Wish me luck with that one, because while I love to investigate I do have a tendency to evaluate as well. 

Is there something in your life that you can reframe, synchronicities to be noticed or some movement you need to add?

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Buddy and the Hiking Pack



Buddy is our food-obsessed dog.  He loves a good snack, of any variety.  He's never rejected a dog treat and eats most people food, when given the chance.  So it was very surprising that he spit out a big cookie--I think he surprised even himself. 

Chief's older brother and his wife were visiting (quite a few years back, pre-children) when we decided to go on a hike, taking the dogs with us.  Since we were going a bit longer we decided to have Buddy (he had the sturdier build of the 2 dogs at the time) wear the pack.  However, that's not the only reason he was chosen.  Buddy and Trigger are fairly big dogs and would need quite a bit of water and we had to pack a collapsible bowl, treats and poop bags with us, along with our own stuff.  --Don't worry, we carried our own stuff!  It was the first time we tried a pack on either of the dogs.  These packs had bells on them, which infuriated Trigger (the first Christmas we had the dogs, Trigger pulled a Santa hat off of Buddy after scratching his off, because he hated the sound of the bell jingling around him--he practically stomped on the poor hat he was so annoyed) so we had to take the pack off and decided to outfit Buddy with it instead.  Trigger was usually the more cooperative of the two.  Now that Trigger has died, Buddy is a lot more cooperative.  At any rate, Buddy was bent out of shape that we strapped this thing on him.  He stood there looking at us with a disgusted look on his face and his ears back.  We kept oohing and awing over how cute he was with his pack and then offered him a treat because we managed to wrangle the darn thing on him.  He took it and then spit it out!  Can you believe that?  He quickly regretted his decision--remember Trigger is watching this all go down in the background--and scooped it back up, but he still wasn't any happier.  That is, until we arrived at the park. 
Pack off, in car, arrive at trail.  Start the wrangling process all over--again, not very happy, but he submitted.  I think he pretty much knew it was a losing battle as there were many hands to assist with the straps.  Trigger was pleased as punch, almost taunting Buddy that he was pack-free.  I think that dog had an extra spring in his step.  Buddy dawdled behind, at first.  But, as soon as we crossed other hikers' paths and he was showered with, "How cute!" and "Look at the good dog!" and loads of attention he was suddenly pleased that he "chose" to wear his pack.  Fortunes reversed, Buddy was now the one with the spring in his step.  Fickle dog!

Here they are back in 2005, captivated by someone holding food, I'm sure.



Oh, October! Where Did You Go?

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Christmas stuff is out in full force!  I'm still lingering with Halloween, because it seemed to come and go so quickly despite the fact that we started slowly setting up for it at the end of August. 

Good new is it finally feels like fall here--it's actually pretty chilly and damp today.  Gasp!  I love it but simultaneously don't know what to do with myself.  My thoughts swirl around in my head like the leaves falling to the ground, swirling in the wind.

The Double Digit Rule

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When Conner was in college, her friends created the Double Digit Rule--just for her.  No matter what was going on or how loud it got, she needed to go to bed during the early double digit hours--10.30-11.00pm.  Her friends partied until 2-3am.  She woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the early am hours whereas her friends wanted to sleep in, hence, the Double Digit Rule.  She was not allowed to bother anyone until at least 10am.  She couldn't crawl into bed with her friends.  She couldn't bang around in the kitchen.  She had to keep quiet, which she admits was a very difficult feat (Chatty Cathy, that one).  I love her to bits and I can totally image it was a struggle to keep quiet during those quiet, early morning hours...