Monthly Archives: January 2013

Electric Love

Posted on January 15, 2013 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! Today I am grateful for one of the most brilliant gifts I ever received.  You can’t imagine how surprised I was several years ago to unwrap a twin-sized electric blanket as one of my Christmas gifts from MSH.  We have a king-sized bed. A twin-size anything made no sense.  But then it did.

Master Suite - King Size Bed with Jungle View

The vast expanse of a King Size Bed! (Photo credit: Grand Velas Riviera Maya)

The blue fluffy wire-lined blanket fit perfectly on my half of the bed. I discovered that very night the wisdom of such a gift.

MSH slumbers in a well chilled, open windowed bedroom, fresh air pouring over his overheated, restless body. For good measure he runs the ceiling fan as well.  In such an environment I can only toss and turn and freeze, no matter how many blankets get heaped on top of me.  But now, ah yes, now with my gift of electric heated bliss, I can choose to have the warmth of a cat snuggling up to me, or I can bask in the heat of a Sahara summer, or any climate in between.

This isn’t a winter only gift.  Oh, no not at all. It is after all Phoenix, complete with heat islands and asphalt. Summers here are a sweltering desert. To survive we have air conditioning everywhere.

(Except for my car, usually the AC goes out on the first day of July.  Not sure why.  The infamous Tilby family car curse? But, I digress, that is another post.)

Unlike most households, we don’t just bring the temperature down to cool. MSH chills the house to the point that we all wear sweaters inside, except him. It’s comfortable for MSH and that is important.  We love him and want him comfy, too. At night, the thermostat gets set even lower.  As a result, my electric blanket often gets used in the summertime as well. Ah, sweet slumber.

I do think the electric blanket saved our marriage. Or at least it keeps me from finding another room to sleep in. Which would have made MSH feel sad and lonely, which would make me sad.  His inspired gift to me makes me love him even more, and reminds me nightly of his consistent thoughtfulness in so many other ways.

All hail the lowly blue blanket, plugged in and enhancing relationships a few precious degrees at a time.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Lambchop and the Borg

Posted on January 12, 2013 by Kami

So it’s day eight of an apparently eternal cough.  I am a mere newbie from all reports I’ve read or heard.

LAMB CHOP

Isn’t Lambchop a sweetie? (Photo credit: happydacks)

To paraphrase a lovely puppet from the sixties, Lambchop, “This is the cough that never ends, it just goes on and on my friend, somebody started coughing once not knowing what it was and they’ll continue coughing now forever just because this is the cough that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends, somebody started….”

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

I’ve heard from some that it only lasts two weeks.  MSH has been battling the crud since before Christmas. I read of one who’s been hacking since the dawn of time, Thanksgiving. My doctor said nine days. How did she come up with nine days? Why nine, not eight, or twelve.  She probably figured by day nine I would have lost track of what day it was (I have) and I wouldn’t care anymore (I don’t.) Smart doctor.

star trek borg race Star Trek Exhibit at Queen...

“Resistance is Futile” So is cough suppressant! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apparently this evil abomination of a cough laughs in the face of antibiotics, chortles at inhalers, becomes maniacal at the introduction of steroids. To quote the Borg from Star Trek, “Resistance is futile.” In other words, cough suppressants are useless, too.

I had a little run in with an over-the-counter cough suppressant that failed to warn me of the possible hallucinations, nausea, light-headedness and chills that would accompany the promised temporary cessation of cough. I know I should have googled it before taking it, but I was already beside myself.  Or at least I was beside my lung, which I had hacked up during the previous few coughing bouts.

At least during the next eighteen hours of coughing I wasn’t quite so freaked out by it because I was, by all accounts, high as a kite!!

The dreams I have between hacking sessions are bizarre and frightening. Perhaps that explains my earlier references to Lambchop and The Borg in the same blogpost.

I’ve resigned myself to living out my remaining days in my robe and slippers, of which I have two choices. My boss, bless her generous heart and sense of humor, gave me a leopard print robe and leopard print slippers as a Christmas gift. So now I can be stylishly near death’ s door.

Leopard Rug

Leopard Rug (Photo credit: Curious Expeditions)

When that robe gets too germ infested I can wash it and wear my puffy blue cloud print robe which matches where my head is at and where I hope to end up should this cough dispense my other lung on the floor.

I have come to one conclusion through this.  Hell is not a fiery pit, it is a coughing fit.

I have a few last words for you.  Hand Sanitizer. Vitamin C. Zinc Tablets. Face Mask.

Be well and may your immune system stay strong!

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Do You Know the Time?

Posted on January 11, 2013 by Kami

I took this photo while exploring the Boyce Thompson Arboretum near Surprise, Arizona a few months ago. It was time well spent. Then I ran across this quote yesterday and knew I needed to share it.

sundail

“Years are only garments and you either wear them with style all your life, or you go dowdy to the grave.”

                                                                                     – Dorothy Parker

Not sure how stylish I am in how I wear my years.  I think I lean toward the dowdy side.  Not what I’d prefer.  I’ll have to think about what it means to be stylish in years and get back to you.

In case you were wondering, the quote on the sundial says: “Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.”  Not sure how I feel about that one either. Hmmm.

Categories: Gardening, Wondering | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

Navigating Through Life the Traffic School Way

Posted on January 10, 2013 by Kami

A traffic school for navigating through life sounds like a good idea to me. Anything that helps me avoid a big fine, a penalty, some heartache, frustration or pain seems like a great idea.

So I’ve come up with a few rules of my own.  Having done some significant amount of traveling, I figure maybe I’m somewhat qualified. At the very least, I need the reminders myself.  I’ll work on the slide show presentation later.

Old Truck

Old Truck (Photo credit: cindy47452)

  • Avoid rush hour if possible, morning and evening.

The sun is always at a bad angle at rush hour, low in the sky and in your eyes, or reflecting in your side or rearview mirror.  I aim for the middle ground when possible.  I can legally use the HOV lane between nine and three. I can easily change lanes, merge, keep space between me and some yo-yo on his phone.  This works in real life too.  Trying to do what everyone else is doing, when they’re doing it isn’t always the best course of action. Be yourself.

  • Don’t text and drive. Don’t drink and drive.

That’s a no brainer isn’t it?  Likewise, don’t drink and be online.  You’ll regret whatever you put online while under the influence.  An emotional crash, a friend bender, relationship dents, are all possible outcomes when you’re online under the influence. You are not wiser, wittier, more honest or pleasant when you’ve had a few too many. Angry texts and online rants aren’t generally productive either.

  • Use a map, or at least have one with you.

I used to always have a map in the car.  I used to always have a plan for my life, for my day, for my week, for the next hour.  Sometimes your plan just needs ditching and you need to take a detour. If so, go for it. You’ve got a map to get you back on course when you’re ready. Sometimes you need to stick to the planned route no matter what.  Only you know which it is.  It’s also okay to ask directions, get a different perspective, especially from someone who knows the terrain.

  • Have a contingency plan if you get separated.

Staying in touch is always a good idea. A weekly email to your sister, a phone call to mom or dad, a text to your brother, an instant message to a friend, an ongoing Scrabble game with your cousin. There’s also actual handwritten letters, not to mention live and in person visits. Don’t let those distances grow too far apart. Those connections are what really count. That’s what the drive is really all about.

Another closed rest area.

Another closed rest area. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • Stop for bathroom breaks more often than you think you need to.

I can tell you from experience, breakdowns happen and you don’t want to be squatting on the side of the road, no matter how big the bushes might seem.  You think you can go full throttle through your day with no breaks, no feet up, no ten-minute nap, but you can’t and you shouldn’t.  Step outside and breath real air, go up and down the stairs a couple of times, drink a bottle of water, actually go to the bathroom, do some deep breathing, read a page or two of a book, rest your eyes, do a few stretches.  Give your brain and body a break here and there and then you can put the pedal to the metal for a while longer.

  • Bring snacks, CDs and water.

Snacks provide entertainment value sometimes, but they also provide memories.  See my post about the Lonely Duck for proof of that one.  What’s a road trip without licorice, peanuts and m&m’s?  Not a real road trip.  Pop some music or a great audio book in the CD player and enjoy. Sometimes it’s the little things that make the difference, don’t ya think? A handful of laughter, a little dollop of whipped wonder or a spoonful of silliness, can make all the difference in life.

A typical speed limit sign in the United State...

A typical speed limit sign in the US showing a 50 mph restriction. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • It’s okay to go slower than the speed limit.

Now there’s a revelation!  That number on the sign says it’s a LIMIT.  Not a suggested speed, but a maximum speed.  I know this is a new concept to most drivers.  It’s also okay to not race through your life.  Just because everyone else has their kids in fifteen afterschool events per week doesn’t mean you have to do the same with your kids.  Your to-do list could have one item on it, and that’s okay. Take life at the speed you’re comfortable with.

  • Take the scenic route occasionally, or at least take a different route.

Studies show, (okay I made that up, but it’s true) that a change of scenery is a great plan.  You don’t have to up and move to another state, like I did six times, for a change.  Maybe the change you need is simply a change in routine, or a change in how you react to traffic, or a change in how many breaths you take per minute, or a downshift in the urgency you place on whatever it is you’re doing. Smell those roses, pick those daisies, walk on that grass, take that photo, touch the wet paint, turn right instead of left!

road rage

road rage (Photo credit: Robert S. Donovan)

  • Don’t yell at, aggravate, cut-off, or flash random hand gestures at drivers.

I still talk to the traffic way too much, but I have changed how I talk.  I say quietly to myself  things like, “I sure hope his wife doesn’t deliver those twins before they get to the hospital.” Or I wish them well in “getting to a bathroom before the food poisoning hits full force.” I figure there’s a reason behind what people do, no matter how aggravating it is to me.  I also try to cut myself some slack when I’m the irritating person.  I try to say kinder things to myself, give myself credit for what I do right, instead of focusing on the few things I think I’m failing at.  Kindness never hurt anyone, in fact it often helps.

So, class…did I miss anything?  Would you add any pointers to my Traffic School Advice?  Let me know in the comments below.

Don’t forget to buckle up and have a nice trip!

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Categories: Humor, Traffic | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Mason Jars Filled with Do Overs

Posted on January 9, 2013 by Kami

“If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do, is to save every day ’til eternity passes away just to spend them with you.”

– Jim Croce

MSH thinks going back in time and reliving his life sounds wonderful.  Many people I’ve asked agree with him. Give them a second chance at life, they’d take it!

Me? No, thank you! End of discussion. No way.

Well, one way, maybe.  If I could remember everything from my first time through, then sure, I’d be willing to face my childhood, puberty, early marriage, and every other stage of my life with confidence.  But without my memories, my hard-earned learning curve intact, there’s no way I’d have a do over.

Too many regrets, that’s why.

A Kerr mason jar

A Kerr mason jar (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For instance. Instead of letting my eighteen month old son cry himself to sleep laying next to his bedroom door, I’d let him fall asleep snuggled in my arms on the couch every single night until he decided he preferred his bed.  Call me foolish.  I don’t care. I can still see his little tear streaked sleeping face peeking out under the gap between the floor and the door.

I’d have bought those Wizard of Oz sparkly red shoes for my youngest. I wouldn’t have put off getting that sailor dress my daughter wanted. I would have asked more questions, assumed less, pried more, talked directly, been less afraid.

Instead of anxiously awaiting the day my kids would start school I’d clean the house less and play with them more.

My own teenage years were a horror story of stupid decisions, bad behavior, rebellion and embarrassment.  I’d just completely remake myself.  I’d be friendly and outgoing instead of trembling and introverted.  I’d care less about what everyone else thought about me and wonder more about how they felt and how I could help. I’d complain less to my mom and help out more.  No, really, I would.  I’d soak in every moment of being young and healthy and energetic.  I’d run with more abandon, sing louder, laugh longer, smile more often, tell jokes, be nicer to my sisters and tell my brothers that I thought they were cool.

If I could have time in a bottle…pretty much everything that happened from day one until now would be different.  I’d be different.  In fact, I wouldn’t even be me anymore, would I?

That’s a scary thought. A hopeful thought. A weird thought.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

Or I’d change everything.

After harvest - jars of glass filled with honey

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Forget Comfort Foods, Try This Instead

Posted on January 7, 2013 by Kami

Comfort foods.  I could wax poetic about all the varieties, textures, tastes, emotions and colors of myriad edibles.  So could you.

Have you ever considered “comfort memories?”

It’s self-explanatory.  Here’s an easy example.

My son can put himself to sleep by remembering himself through a specific ski run at a specific resort.  Recalling the swoosh of the snow under his board, the bite of the cold across his cheeks, the trees as they blur past, the feel of his muscles as he moves to catch a curve and negotiates the bumps and jumps, all combine to relax and calm him into a deep and restful sleep.

Nice way to put yourself to sleep, huh? I think so.

I have a way of relaxing myself when I’m feeling ill or in pain that, if I remember to remember it, works very well to comfort and ease my body and mind. It’s rooted in how I was cared for as a child when I was sick. It’s definitely a comfort memory.

Asleep on the couch

Asleep on the couch (Photo credit: geekdreams)

I recall pillows propped on the dark green couch, blankets tucked around me, with the TV on low and bluish across the room.  I remember the smell and taste of the concoction Mom would mix. It consisted of a bit of warm water, a spoonful of paregoric, and some sugar.  It was a licorice smell and taste, somewhat bitter, but eased by that spoonful of sugar.  My tummy always settled out if I was nauseous, my sore throat eased.  Sleep came easier in spite of noise or fever or pain.  I can still feel the coolness of the pillowcase as she turned my pillow to the cool side when my fever was high.  There would often be a cool cloth on my forehead and smoothed across my hands and arms, pulling the heat from my body and sending a swell of relaxation through my tired, aching limbs. Even if she was only checking my fever, Mom’s hand on my cheek let me feel cared for, loved and safe.

If I can conjure that image, those sensations, then I can settle into a rest that reminds me of that love.  I can relax and let the discomfort of whatever hurts lift away from me, even if only momentarily.

To know such care and comfort should fall to every child.  Every adult should be able to pull from the library of memory such a book, filled with tales of love and triumph.

What memories bring peace to you?  Is there anything you can recall from childhood, or adulthood, that on remembering, brings comfort, peace, joy, relaxation, love?

Categories: Family, Love, Memory Lane, parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

A Life in Three Parts

Posted on January 6, 2013 by Kami
A diagram showing layers within the Earth's ma...

A diagram showing layers within the Earth’s mantle and core (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Peel back the layers.

A crust of clothing disguises.

A mantle of skin, muscle, and bone

Houses and protects.

A core of Spirit,

Essence,

Soul,

Refined matter,

The Life-giving center,

Lasts somewhere,

Forever.

**************************************

This post was written as a Trifecta challenge response.  Please check out their site and see what great stuff they’re generating from writers.

Categories: Poetry, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

The Magic of a Dusty Country Road

Posted on January 6, 2013 by Kami
Dirt road

Dirt road (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Bouncing in the passenger seat of the dual wheel truck, dust billowing behind us, I rest my arm out the window, letting the leaves and bushes tickle my hand as we drive past.  If we were driving faster it would hurt to do this, but the ruts and rocks of this particular stretch of dirt road keep our speed at a minimum.  The truck eases right into the bushes and we slow even more as we make room for a jeep coming down the road toward us.  As that cloud of dust draws closer my father raises his left hand and waves at the jeep. A man with a cowboy hat lifts his hand in response as the two vehicles ease past each other.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Don’t know,” replies my dad.

“But you waved at them,” I venture.

“Yup,” he says.

“So if you don’t know that man, why did you wave to him?” I push.

“Cuz, that’s what you do out in the country.” He punctuates the sentence in a way I know means that’s the end of this conversation. Not abrupt, not angry, just “that’s all there is to say about that,” communicated in an inflection, a tone or a breath.

A few minutes later, a truck lumbers past us, he waves, they wave, and I ask. “Who was that?”

“Don’t know,” he responds.

“But…”

“Yup, that’s what we do out here,” he says with a relaxed twang to his voice.

The fifteen mile road we bump along that day provided several more similar scenes.  As we emerged on the asphalt and headed toward home I dangled my hand out the window to ride the slipstream of air that blew past. I felt the temperature rise as we s-curved our way down the mountain pass.  I sighed as the scent in the air changed from pine to scrub oak, and from scrub oak to suburb.

We drove past many cars once we reached the main roads of our town and never did my dad raise a hand in a hello. I didn’t ask. When we reached our neighborhood, he wave once, twice. Then we pulled into the driveway and I hopped out of the truck.

Country roads were a staple in my life, for a variety of reasons, camping, canoeing, checking on the beehives my dad had stashed in various places, breakfast picnics, a day at the reservoir, or simply to go for a drive. Often my siblings came along, sometimes the whole family, occasionally just me.  Always the same ritual of waving to strangers happened. Sometimes he even talked to strangers. “Anything biting?” he might ask a man with a fishing pole. Or “Howdy!” he might say to a couple of kids walking in the dusty dunes of tire tracks.

The Pacific Northwest Trail

The Pacific Northwest Trail (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

All those roads taught me a kind of etiquette that isn’t in books. Out in the country, on back roads, on hiking trails, lakeside, or mid-river, there is an unspoken understanding. There is a camaraderie in solitary places, in nature, that temporarily suspends the walls we erect in ordinary places. There is permission granted in green open spaces that lets us, encourages us even, to be friendly, to be kind, to be more than ourselves.

To pass someone on a hiking trail and not say “hello” or “good morning” is unthinkable for me.   Brief eye contact seems like a given as well. At the very least, a nod of the head or a smile is a must. Conversation is optional, but allowed.

Similar behavior at a shopping mall, in the grocery store, walking down the sidewalk, gets you weird looks and feels completely off the mark.

I haven’t analyzed this too much. Just noticed it. Seems there are many unspoken rules that are difficult to explain, but make sense just the same.

One thing is clear to me. I need to travel fewer paved roads, and I need more dust clouds in my rearview mirror.

I’m drawn to the outdoors by the beauty and serenity of it all. There is energy and peace found in nature that nothing else can match. I wonder if maybe part of the attraction is also the relaxing of barriers, the lowering of the defenses, the slightly more open connection with other human beings.

Categories: Family, Memory Lane, Outdoors, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

The Faces of January

Posted on January 5, 2013 by Kami

January is usually an off month for me.

Let down from the holidays?  Burn out from overdoing it?  Feeling the weight of a new year?

I’ve never been able to pinpoint a why.

January 2010 Snow Scene

January 2010 Snow Scene (Photo credit: ς↑r ĴΛϒκ❂)

Part of me wants to trust that my brain and body know what I need, so I simply wrap myself up in the feeling, hunker down and ride the wave of depression and self-doubt until it rolls me onto the shore in February.  That usually involves immersing myself in fiction.  Lots and lots of fiction.  Five, six, seven books in one month.

That hasn’t really been an option for a few years now.

The other part of me wants to battle it out by doing some deep cleaning, sorting, organizing and rearranging.  I pack up the holiday decorations, scrub down the kitchen top to bottom, wipe walls, touch up paint around light switches and baseboards, clean windows, vacuum vents, move the fridge and stove and clean behind them. All this is done with the intent, not to have a cleaner home, but to attempt a sense of control over my environment.  Which logically, you’d think, would bring a sense of control over my life.  Unfortunately, this is an illusion.

Dirt happens. Life happens. Crap happens. Reality happens.

Oh sure, great stuff happens too, plenty of it.  But we’re not going to gloss over the not so great stuff.  Not in January.  Not today.

Life is hard.

January is my month to admit it, accept it, internalize it, avoid it, fight it, whine about it, come to terms with it.  It’s my reality check month.

Not that other months aren’t their own kind of reality check.  Surely they are, some more than others.  But January seems hardwired for the task.

I’m tired after the fun and frolic and frantic craziness of December.  I’m ready for some me time.

Almost half way through 2012 I had a month that knocked me on my butt.  I escaped to my cousin’s house for rest and recovery.  She was a gem.  I did some soul-searching, some sleeping, some denial, some hiking.  I felt better.  Then I got back on the treadmill and kept going.

It was my mid-year mini-January, I guess.

Book collection

(Photo credit: Ian Wilson)

My body is telling me this particular January is a reading month.  The cleaning may have to wait until this mean cough I woke up with goes away and the headache stops beating me up. In the meantime I have some ebooks, audio books, tangible books.  And I have an electric blanket,  soup and hot cocoa, and blessedly, some Tylenol.

Hoping your January is simply one of renewal and looking forward to good things.

Oh, and any book suggestions you want to send my way would be welcome.

Happy New Year!

Categories: Mental Health, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

A Matter of a Few Degrees: A Meteor’s Close Call

Posted on January 2, 2013 by Kami

I am not a resolution maker, partly because I’m not a follower. I’ve also never been much of a goal setter.  I don’t like being dictated to by a calendar, or by tradition, or peer pressure, or even by a meteor aimed at the Earth.  Every January arrives and I ignore, resist and, yes, even look disdainfully on resolutions.

Here are three things that I do instead.

Small Moves

“Small moves, Ellie, small moves.”

That’s what Ted Arroway says to his daughter, in the movie “Contact,” as she’s searching on her ham radio for an open airway, an opportunity to make a connection.  If you’ve ever tried to tune in to a station by hand on a radio, then that concept of “small moves” makes sense to you.

Radio

Radio (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s easy to get impatient while fine-tuning. Trying to zoom in on a specific point feels like it should be easy, should be done in one quick movement.  What’s required is a delicate hand, a gentle touch, a tiny shift.

That’s how I see changes taking place in my life. Sure, I can try to make big sweeping renovations, but they aren’t going to last.  The details of the change will get lost, the balancing mechanisms that allow permanence in the change won’t be in place.

I’ve found that it really is in the details, the minutia, the tiniest of adjustments, that big changes take place.

I don’t “resolve” to make changes.  I simply make a small move in the direction I want go with an idea, a change, a to-do list item or a habit.  It’s more like an experiment.  What happens if I do this one thing this way, instead of that way?  Then I observe the result.  Sounds simplistic?  Good.  It should.  It’s a simple thing.  A small thing.  A small move.

Taking Aim Again

There’s another concept I’ve had bouncing around in my head for a few years since I first heard of it.  May be it isn’t that different from “small moves” but it explains it best.

The idea finds its roots in two Hebrew words “chait” and “t’shuvah.”   Here’s a better explanation than I can write for those two concepts.

“The word for sin in Hebrew, chait, means “miss,” as in “miss the target.”  You have unlimited chances to take aim again, again, and again to hit a bull’s eye.  You have unlimited chances for atonement… unified with your own highest and best self.”

“t’shuvah… is much more than just repentance.  T’shuvah is a return to our essential being, a re-alignment… a reorientation to our best selves.  In what ways are we off-center, out of touch with our own best selves?  How can we acknowledge responsibility, make amends, seek forgiveness… and return to the good? “ –Shofar Sermon – 2009 – Stewart Edelstein (http://congregationbnaiisrael.org/hihopage.html)

How often do I feel like I’ve missed the mark, been off target, failed in my aim?  All the time!!  Do I berate myself for being a failure? Not any more.

Archery Practice

Archery Practice (Photo credit: imarcc)

Now I simply employ the concept inherent in the word t’shuvah and reorient my aim, get back on center, pull back my arrow and try again.

The human experience is all about trying again and again and again.  Slowly working at getting it right.  Realignment and improvement.  Small moves.

Falling Down, Getting Up

Watching a toddler navigate and move is a fascinating practice.  Every time a fall happens, which is often, the adult wants to rush in and dust the kid off and reassure them.  Often the child will look to the adult to gauge how they should react to the fall.  If Mom or Dad’s face is full of worry, or sadness, then the crying and wailing will commence.  Baring any real injury, if the parent’s face is neutral or smiling, the kid will jump up and get back to what they were doing, or get on with something else all together.

An assortment of Guatemalan worry dolls made f...

Guatemalan worry dolls. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There isn’t any angst or drama or self-evaluation going on in that tiny toddler head. Bent on exploration and learning and moving forward, the kid just goes!

I try for  child-like in that way. Forward motion, learning, going and doing. Toddlers don’t seem to do much worrying.

They just fall and then get up and go.

 “Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, but only saps today of its strength.” ― A.J. Cronin.

That quote is famous because it’s accurate and true. It plays a note that resonates in our brains.    Sing along. Hum that tune. Worry less.

So there’s a comet aimed at the earth?

Worry less, fall down then get up.

Realignment and improvement.

Small moves.

Let the stars fall from the sky.  I’m making progress a bit at a time.

*********

Today’s Post was prompted by this Daily Post Challenge: “Tell us about the three things you’d most like to change about your life, and make a bold, I-don’t-care-who-knows-it-because-there’s-a-meteor-a-comin’ assertion to the world that you are going to get these changes made. And that you’ll have at least started making them happen by March. When, erm, you’re probably going to wind up as dust.”

So tell me, do you make resolutions?  What would yours be if the world really were going to be hit by a meteor in a couple of months? Or are you like me, a non-resolutioner?

Categories: Mental Health, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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