Author Archives: Kami

Curing my Paper Addiction

Posted on February 13, 2015 by Kami

Friday Letter to my Kids ~ 2/13/15 ~

Dear J, J, L and L,

photo 1-6 copy 11My favorite three-year old gifted me these origami cranes a while ago. No, she’s not an origami master, but her mother’s pretty handy in all things crafty. They’ve got a few of these hanging around at their house. Using paper that’s been previously written on adds value to the pieces. I can make out a few words but would have to completely dismantle the crane to read what it actually says. That’s kind of where origami began, as a way of sending a message where the reader would know if it had been read because the folding sequence would be out of whack.

I love paper. Notebooks, book books, notecards, drawings, sticky notes, envelopes. (Not so much a fan of mail though, bills, advertisements, newspapers.) You probably knew that.

I’ve always liked the idea of handcrafted papers, I love their textures and the uniqueness of each page. It’s as if the blank paper is already art and whatever you write on them enhances or is enhanced by the medium it’s written on.

Did you know paper once was a very rare commodity? I learned that recently. Kind of made me want to hoard a few notebooks.

Oh, wait. I already have a paper stash. Actually more like a used paper warehouse. But you know that. You lived with it all your growing up years. And it’s not really a stash, it’s more of a paper monster.

Not sure if this is the paper monster or me afraid of the thing.

Not sure if this is the paper monster or me afraid of the thing.

I’m slowly getting it tamed. Pulling such a beast into a submissive state takes willpower and courage and a few other gifts I’m rather sketchy on.

Several weeks ago I finally cleared my desk. By clearing I mean that I took everything off the desk and made a ginormous pile behind me to sort through. I’m hoping most of it ends up in the recycle bin. A few too many papers have migrated back to the desk already, in no particular order. And a smaller “to be sorted” pile emerged from the first gigantic “to be sorted” pile.

Your dad says he can see progress. He’s so kind to me. I’m not so sure there’s any improvement.

Also, in the garage, I plan condense a shelf of ten boxes of random papers into one or two file boxes of organized documents, and then fill the recycle bin to the top two or three times. I think I have twenty years worth of Christmas cards among those boxes. Pretty certain I don’t need them all.

Do you ever wonder if a hundred years from now paper documents will appear on Antique Roadshow as something stunningly rare and worth zillions. If future archeologists uncover my garage or my office they’d feel like they found the mother lode of paper.

Here’s the thing, which probably sounds like justification or excuses to you, but it’s the truth. Bunches of those papers have this magical power over me because they’re from one of you. I could probably part just fine with the school papers and class assignments. But the notes you’ve written to me or your dad, the pictures you drew, those snippets of “who you were” need organizing and special care. Does that sound dumb? I’m sure it sounds so stupid.

Simply letting all those papers go into the recycle bin somehow feels as if I’m letting parts of you slip through my fingers. Nonsense, yes, I know that.

If I could approach the task as a museum curator perhaps I could finally succeed in whittling away the amount of papers I have squirreled away.

cu·rate
ˌkyo͝oˈrāt  verb
  • select, organize, and look after the items in (a collection or exhibition)
  • select the performers or performances that will feature in (an arts event or program).
  • select, organize, and present (content, information, etc.), typically using professional or expert knowledge

Perhaps, with that sort of thinking I could manage the task of taming the paper monster. Maybe my kid museum could be one binder per child. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?

I’d classify my interaction with paper as a love/hate relationship. As I attempt to tame the monstrous paper fiend that hides in the garage (and the smaller but equally tenacious paper boogie man in my office) I hope to find some balance and health in the process.

Photo By Ron whisky (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

My paper monster could someday look just like this, ya think? Photo By Ron whisky (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I could whip that paper monster into shape until it’s a warm, fuzzy, unthreatening thing in my life.
It could happen.
I think I’ll hang the cranes over my desk as a message and a symbolic reminder that I’m a curator and not a hoarder. Wish me luck!
Hugs and Love to you each,
Mom

 ~~~*~~~

 

Categories: Friday Letters | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Tapping In to the Cosmic Stream: Or How I Hope to Become a Brilliant, Rich, and Beloved Writer

Posted on February 12, 2015 by Kami

Let’s be honest here.

I don’t always go walking first thing in the morning. Occasionally I sleep in.

But usually, I try to do just that. Walk. Not sleep in. It clears my heart, opens it up to possibilities, keeps me on this side of sanity.

But, occasionally my body rolls over at four a.m. and tries to trick me into believing that it’s time to wake up. Ha! I’m not fooled. I can see the clock, (yes, I still have a digital alarm clock bedside) red numbers humming in the darkness. I tell my brain and body to slip back into a cozy sleep, “dreams upbeat and entertaining, please,” and snuggle down into the comforter.

Sometimes it works.

Sometimes my brain kicks into high gear and THINKS! It’s brilliant at that time of day, oddly enough. If I could simply attach a cable between my head and my laptop I’d be a famous writer, winning big prizes. But alas, something happens in that walk down the hall from pillow to chair.

All that brilliance leaks out the bottom of my feet, I think, soaking into the carpet, squishing between my toes. By the time my fingers reach the keyboard every amazing thought, perfect word and funny joke has leeched from my body.

I always think I will remember.

Yes, yes, yes, I do have a notebook sitting on the nightstand, but I don’t use it. I suppose I will repent of that immediately and start scribbling in it the next time Superbrain makes an appearance in my bed at some ridiculously dark hour.

Confession.

I’ve done that before. The notebook thing. And I usually can’t read what it is I wrote. It’s a jumble of swirls and dots and scratches, with a random word I might vaguely recognize.

Solution.

I could type or record a note to myself on the semi-intelligent phone device I have sitting on the nightstand. That might work. Although I find the artificial light scares away most of my wisdom and all of my semi-wakefulness/semi-sleepiness.

Image by  By Mark J Sebastian (Abstract (#41272)) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons 

Very cool Image by  By Mark J Sebastian (Abstract (#41272)) [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Maybe the truth of it all, since we’re in confession mode, is that I’m not really all that brilliant, awake or sleeping. Maybe I tap in to some cosmic stream of thought that we all somehow connect to while we sleep. I capture little wisps of it in my partial wakefulness and think it’s all me. Probably not me at all.

Call it the muse. Call it inspiration. Call it divine intervention. Call it crazy. I just think I’m part of something much bigger than myself. That thought gives me comfort and makes me feel more connected to the rest of humanity. Or at least to the better parts of humanity.

One of these mornings I’ll manage to capture some wispy cosmic light and brilliance and transfer it to a written bit of something. We’ll all be amazed. I’m sure of it.

Categories: Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Winter Wonderland, Desert Style

Posted on February 10, 2015 by Kami
Misty morning.

Misty morning.

Hey! It’s Gratituesday! Look at this!! Can you believe it?

Homegrown heaven!

Homegrown heaven!

Tomatoes!!! Yes! Fresh hanging on the vine tomatoes in February! Holy pico de gallo!

I’m so excited to see this. I tucked these babies in every night for over a week while we had freezing temperatures in January. I mean I literally tucked sheets around the plants to keep them warm and alive in the cold hours of the night. These are four-foot tall tomato plants too, so bedding them down took more than a few sheets and some perseverance.

Sunshine captured!

Sunshine captured!

Just a few steps to the south hang these beautiful shining orbs of sugary delight.

I squeezed a few for breakfast this morning. Oh my. Nothing else in the world smells like a freeze squeezed orange and nothing can imitate that liquid gold taste. I didn’t even need to add ice since it’d been a brisk night.

And then there’s walking at the Riparian. A hoodie is all that’s needed to keep warm enough  while walking at sunrise lately. A nice change from the twenties of a month ago and a vast distance from what I experience during the summer.

Puffy pearls.

Puffy pearls.

These puffy pearls captured a bit of sunlight as it passed by, the dew still clinging and cool. A mist hangs over the ponds until the sun peaks over the horizon chasing it away. Geese clamor and honk as they travel overhead. Such drama queens.

Winter mornings like this one, with homegrown tomatoes, oranges just plucked from the tree and scenic walking conditions count as just a few of many things that make living through a Phoenix blast furnace summer worthwhile.

It’s odd how that all works out. A sort of a balancing of the scale in terms of weather.

Do you suppose the scale balances in other ways as well? I like to think while going through tough times that seem relentless and unbearable, that life eventually balances out the scales. That joy, with a greater heft and depth than sorrow holds, brings things even. I could be wrong. But today, that feels true. I hope it is.

I’m feeling extra blessed by our mild winter gifts. What more could a person ask for?

Always making a ruckus!

Always making a ruckus! But hey, it’s a nice day anyway.

 

 

 

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Friday Letter to My Kids: I Hope You Laugh

Posted on February 6, 2015 by Kami

Dear J, J, L and L,

You know that poster that hangs in the guest bathroom? The one with all the little bits of wisdom to make for a happier life like “Call your Mom,” and “Sing in the Shower”? Life’s Little Instructions. Yup, that one.

I think I’d add a few of my own.

See I can make a meme, just not very well.

I could do it…

  • Laugh some every day

  • Give at least one hug daily

  • Cry like you mean it, don’t hold back

  • Write it down so you’ll remember

  • Naps are okay, encouraged even

  • Grow something

  • Get outside and do something

  • Remember childhood Happies

  • Make new Happies

  • Have some quiet time daily

  • Get rowdy at least twice a month

  • Dance

  • Sing

  • Crank those tunes

  • Ditch the to-do list sometimes

  • Put yourself in time-out and enjoy it

  • Sleep somewhere odd

  • Be a tourist in the state you live

  • Don’t be afraid to ask for help

  • Smile more than not

  • Wink at little kids

  • Roll down a grassy hill when you can

     

That’s all stuff I ought to remind myself of, often. Maybe I can get your dad to play along with some of them. Not sure I can picture him rolling down a hill, unless it’s unintentional while skiing. Ouch.

And of course, everyone has their own definition of rowdy. Let’s just all keep it legal. (Wink.)

I hope you laugh! And sing and dance and love life!

 

Love you tons,

Mom

 

p.s. I could make this into a cute meme if I wanted to spend the time and understood computers better, but I don’t. So here’s a drawing I made of myself instead. Way faster than creating a meme.

photo-25 copy 23

Sending lots of love!

p.p.s. It seems like a long list. Probably because it is. If I thought about it for a few days I could narrow it down some. But, it’s Friday and I wanted to get this letter out to you today. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Categories: Family, Friday Letters, good ideas | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A List to Remind Me That the Sun Shines

Posted on February 4, 2015 by Kami
Aspens. My favorites.

Aspens. My favorites.

MSH reminds me when I start ranting about something and threaten to write about it on my blog, that I always intended for this project to lean toward the positive and optimistic.

Then I remind him that I’m also “keeping it real” which might not always come across as roses and sunshine.

Keeping It Real

How real do I feel comfortable with here on the blog? How real am I comfy with in person? All last month I’ve debated this with myself. And I didn’t write much during that debate. Lost my groove, I guess.

A path of shadow and sunlight.

A path of shadow and sunlight.

I felt braver a couple of years ago. Bolder. Speaking my mind came easier. Opening up about my life happened naturally and with less reserve.

This past year, in many ways, I’ve caved in on myself. I’ve tucked in the frayed edges. I keep the strained or raveled seams covered. I’ve inched toward a more hermit-like life. I used to do that during the month of January every year. I saw it as a naturally occurring regrouping and recovery from the two or three-month holiday season.

My January recovery session during the past year stretched into eleven other months. Maybe longer.

An online friend of mine wrote a (somewhat annoying) glowing top ten account of his past year for the following reason:

“Things can get difficult, and you never know when I might need to remind myself that these things happened, and how and what I felt like when they did.” ~ Brad McBride

Good reason to write up a top ten, you gotta admit. Even if it annoys semi-irritable people like me.

I’ve just survived a year (2014) where I needed to remind myself of happier times to get myself through the day or the week.

I’ve also just been through a year (2014, yes, same year) with some amazingly wondrous good things happening. I mean A-MAZ-ING! Happiness like nothing I’ve ever known.

Talk about a paradox.

I’ve felt lost and found, abandoned and loved, forlorn and supported, ready to give up and anticipating greatness, numb and electrified. At times hope eluded me and then there it shone like a stunning sunrise nearly blinding me.

So what would be my top ten good things for 2014?

  1. My oldest daughter’s new baby girl
  2. The volunteer work I get to do
  3. Hanging out with my favorite teenager while driving her to and from tutoring
  4. Spending time with a certain three-year old
  5. Snuggling from a fun-loving one year old
  6. Almost the entire family together for a weekend in November
  7. A Christmas concert extraordinaire
  8. Summer sunrise walks
  9. My family reunion – time with Mom and Dad
  10. Sitting in a high mountain meadow for hours with MSH

See, my life’s filled with wonder and joy. I just forget sometimes. The difficulties can cast such deep long shadows that block out the sunlight in such a way it almost feels like night. I just need to step out of the shade and let the sun warm me from time to time.

Am I Right? Or am I Write?

This blog has been a source of light for me as well. It’s like a conversation I have with myself to sort through things and make sense of the world. So I add a number eleven to my list.

11. This writing thing.

So I’ll keep things real. The good, the ugly, the stunning, the what-the-heck. Life as I see it written down right here just for me.

If you want to follow along, you’re welcome to join me. Just don’t make too much noise. It is morning, after all.

 

Already a happy camper and not even one year old.
My favorite teen with my favorite parents.
Puddle jumpers and expert huggers.
This face makes me laugh.
This meadow in January last year, with this man I love dearly.
Peace comes in many forms.
Concert program cover.
This looks familiar…
From a recent magazine. Great quote.

 

 

 

Categories: Hope, Mental Health, Sanity, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Ring Dings

Posted on January 27, 2015 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! When we first moved to Arizona we had very light, almost white carpet on the stairs just ten steps from the front door. The bedrooms and hallways also had the same impractical carpet. It was a no-brainer that we’d be one of those families. You know the ones. We became a family that didn’t wear shoes in the house. So right next to the front door a shoe pile grew.

I tried all sorts of ways to keep them organized and neat. Mostly, about once a week, everyone had to haul all their shoes to their bedroom closets and only leave one pair by the door.

Dirt Happens

The carpet still managed to get dirty.

The shoeless habit stuck with us. We’ve lived in four houses in eighteen years and shoes still come off and go on at the exit door. Not so much for the clean carpet, ours is dark beige now, but for the comfort and routine of it.

What does this have to do with gratitude today? I’m getting there.

Look closely at this photo of my wall by the front door.

photo 2-3 copy 18It just looks like a paint job needing repair I suppose. Or little pencil marks. We have dorky paint in this house. It was at one time a repossession by the bank and got a cheap paint job before we ended up living here.

This is the kind of paint that comes off if you take a damp sponge to it to wipe away fingerprints. Why do they even make that kind of paint?

Cheap Paint Happens

The only way to “clean” a wall in our house is to very carefully dab at a spot and hope the paint sticks. Otherwise there’s a can of touch-up paint I use sparingly to keep the fingerprints and such at bay.

But if you look at the wall photo I pointed out, those aren’t fingerprints. Nope. I’m not even sure what to call them. Dings? Nicks? Marks?

It took a bit of thinking but I figured out what they were and how they got there.

You see, every time MSH slips his feet into his shoes by the front door, he puts his left hand on the wall to steady himself. And often, if not always, his wedding band taps, dings, or touches the wall. Given the nature of the paint it invariably leaves a mark. There’s quite a collection of the dings in a small area.

Rather than painting over them in frustration, I’ve decided to leave them there for a while as a sweet reminder of MSH’s travels to and from our home.

Honestly, sometimes I’m glad when he leaves, but I’m also really glad that he always returns. When he’s traveled for work there were weeks and months when the departures happened often and arrivals were brief and coveted.

I see those marks as the adult version of sticky fingerprints, I suppose. Every once in a while things like that get cleaned up and taken care of. But in the meantime, I’ll enjoy the ring dings. I’ll count them as a blessing, since they’re really just evidence of MSH and the thirty plus years we’ve shared.

Strange, I know. But hey, paint is cheap.

Photo by Jeff Belmonte from Cuiabá, Brazil

Photo by Jeff Belmonte from Cuiabá, Brazil

 

Categories: Family, Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Throwing Down the Gauntlet of “I’m Not”

Posted on January 25, 2015 by Kami
Razor-Jr.-Folding-Kiddie-Kick--pTRU1-5250467dt

I can’t find that picture I took of her riding around when she first got this contraption. So this will have to do.

My favorite three-year old brought her scooter over during her last visit. So of course, we headed outside for a nice walk through the neighborhood. I pushed her sister in the stroller while she zoomed ahead on her scooter. Every once in a while she’d stop, sit down on the scooter and wait for me to catch up to her. As I got closer she’d pop up, put her speedy foot to the ground and rocket away on the sidewalk. Luckily she’d been taught to stop at corners so I don’t have to yell or run ahead.

If I had on skates or was on my own scooter, I’d still have a tough time keeping up with her. I think she’d go a couple of miles before she felt even a little tired. Oh, to have such energy!

When we decide to head down the grassy hill to the playground, she attempts to ride the scooter through the grass, but meets too much resistance in the thick green lawn. So she steps off and drags the scooter behind her.

photo.PNG-2 copy 3

We’re talking thick over-watered winter grass of Phoenix.

Yup! She drags it sideways, with the center of the wheels catching on the long grass and the body of the scooter adding more drag. If I didn’t need to manage the one-year old and the stroller I’d show her how simply pushing it in an upright position, rolling along on the tires requires less effort and more efficiency. I suggested it, with verbal directions. Her reply? “I’m not.”

That’s how she answers most things she’s not interested in doing, eating, working at, giving in on or sharing. “I’m not.”

Just two words and she’s said all she’ll say on the matter.

There’s no reasoning, bribing, cajoling, begging, threatening or consequence that changes her mind once she’s decided “I’m not.” (Her parents have better luck with this, but I’m not the parent. I’m the pushover.)

So when we leave the park with me awkwardly pushing a fully loaded stroller up the grassy hill, she once again, drags the scooter sideways until we reach the sidewalk. I offered to carry the scooter on the stroller and she replied in her two-word manner. “I’m not.”

Independent little thing! Ya gotta admire that!

I wonder sometimes if I’m like her with lifes… stuff. 

I buzz along at a nice clip, enjoying the ride and then I encounter resistance. (I think I deal with the long thick grass or rocky terrain much more often than the smooth sidewalk, but that’s probably a skewed and incorrect viewpoint.)

I could patiently step off and simply push in a slightly different way, with my wheels still rolling forward. But, more than likely, I throw my “scooter” on its side and drag it along, making things harder than necessary.

photo-25 copy 20

Feeling drenched by my bad attitude.

Maybe I’m a bit dramatic about a situation and blow it out of proportion. Or maybe I assume the worst possible outcome. Perhaps I fail to deploy my optimism umbrella and instead get drenched by pessimism.

When life gets hard and stays that way for too long, what do I do? I throw down my own well-worn gauntlet of “I’m not.”

More than likely I’ve forgotten to notice the happy stuff going on around me and I only notice the one or two big negatives. I even get argumentative with people I like, or complain out loud about “how hard my life is.” What a downer. Then I feel worse because I’ve hurt people, relationships and myself.

Funny how a three-year old can teach a lesson without even trying.

I think I need two photographs of Miss Smarty-pants and her scooter; one of her zipping along and one of her dragging the thing behind her. I could use the reminder that I have a choice in how I ride and how I manage the roughs.

It’s time to set my scooter upright and push it through the grass.

I’m sure that before I know it I’ll feel the wind whipping through my hair as I push-off once again on one of life’s smoother paths.

 

 

 

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

Will Your Mom Let You Come Outside and Play?

Posted on January 21, 2015 by Kami

Do you want to build a snowman?

photo 1.PNG-2 copy 2My youngest shared this photo of a snowman she and her husband built on Christmas day. Looks picture perfect doesn’t it? Looks like he could come alive. He brings a smile to my face in a big way.

photo 2-4 copy 6Then my favorite three-year old created this work of art and her Mom sent me the picture. A different flavor than the real snowman, wouldn’t you say? I think the furthest one on the right finds its roots in the movie Frozen, where the snowman dude, whatizname, gets repeatedly discombobulated.

That’s the closest I’ll get to a snowman this winter, unless I take a trip north, which I haven’t any plans to do so far.

Sandcastles seem more likely. I see sliding and swinging in today’s forecast as well.

We’re flirting with record high temperatures this January, which I don’t mind after a week of babysitting my frost sensitive plants earlier in the month. I always feel a little silly tucking sheets around my tomatoes, peppers, flowers, herbs and a couple of shrubs. About thirty tomatoes survived, so I figure the work paid off.

I’ve got important company coming to visit for a couple of days. My agenda’s pretty full.

I plan on working on some epic sidewalk chalk drawings in the backyard with two of my favorite tiny people. Maybe we’ll try hopscotch, too. And cookies. We have to bake up something scrumptious together. I’m sure we’ll take time for a walk around the ‘hood, maybe say hello to a few dogs while we’re at it.

For sure we’ll pop in our favorite DVD, “Animusic” and dance around some to that. And we’ll try to follow along to Dance Party 2. We might look up Dance Party 1 and really go crazy. And playing the piano needs to happen for sure.

And maybe we’ll get out the glue and glitter, construction paper and random bits and pieces and see what we can create. The one year old will probably just eat the cereal, but that’s half the fun, isn’t it?

If it rains some while they’re here, even better.

I’ve stocked up on “Sruit Snacks“ and chocolate milk and Goldfish crackers. And there’s always some banana bread handy. And we’re having spaghetti for dinner, with some braided garlic bread. Don’t you wish you could come over to play with us?

Do you want to build a snowman?

I sure do.

I can hardly wait!

Categories: Fun | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

Still Kami: Bringing Me Back to Myself

Posted on January 16, 2015 by Kami
Geese making a noisy run for it.

Geese making a noisy run for it.

Friday Letter to my Kids – January 16, 2015

Dear J, J, L and L,

I read this book about five years back called “Still Alice” by Lisa Genova about a woman with early onset Alzheimer’s. (It’s coming out as a movie soon, but of course, the book is better.) Since then, and since my Mom’s stroke, I’ve thought about getting older and memory loss a whole bunch.

Frost lace on a December morning.

Frost lace edging the leaves on a December morning.

Some days I already feel ancient and ready to call it a life. I never dreamed that by this age I’d feel old already. Creaky, slow to get going in the mornings, aches, pains. Some days thinking about living another twenty, thirty or forty years just about puts me over the edge. I know this is tough for you to grasp since you’re all still really young regardless of how old or mature you might feel.

Anyway, the real point I want to get to is this. If I start to forget stuff, or get a bit of dementia, or if I just need lots of physical care, could you please make sure I get my daily fix?

I know for some people that’s a morning cup of coffee, or a diet coke, or some chocolate, or maybe a certain news program, a half hour of Jeopardy, a glass of wine, a good laugh, prayer, meditation or a zillion other possibilities.

Mid-january leaves carpeting the pathway.

Mid-january leaves carpeting the pathway.

For me, my daily fix comes in the form of nature. When I start to forget who I am a walk at the Riparian always brings me back to myself. If I can’t fit in a walk then just sitting on the porch swing can kickstart the old psyche. Even as a kid in midwinter with the temps hovering at minus ten, I’d find a way to get my daily dose of sunshine, usually curled into the shape of the sunlight coming through a window.

If you have to put me in a nursing home or care center it’d be best if they had a sunroom, or a little garden. If, heaven forbid, I have to live in an apartment I’d really really really need a patio or porch and some plants with a hummingbird feeder and maybe even a bird feeder.

Indoor plants don’t cut it. I always manage to kill them with kindness and attention, or inattention, I’m never sure which.

What is it about a body of water that's so soothing?

What is it about a body of water that’s so soothing?

A daily walk or stroll will keep me from tipping the scale from sanity to insanity, even as my legs and eyesight and mental capacity all wither away.

Yup, I count nature as more important than books, if you can believe it. Of course, I wouldn’t say no to an audio book or large print novel to read while I sit outside in the shade or the sun.

That’s all for today, I guess.

Oh, except, I hope you know what your daily fix is. What’s that one thing that gives you daily energy, fills your morning bucket, floats your twenty-four hour boat or keeps you moving forward every day? If you don’t know I hope you find it soon and then make sure it happens regularly. It can help keep you cheerful even in tough times.

Sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest difference. Nature isn’t all that little, but a tiny bit of it every day keeps me steady and strong.

Loving you in a big way,

Mom

Yesterday's sunset at the Riparian.

Yesterday’s sunset at the Riparian.

 

Categories: Friday Letters, Nature, Outdoors, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

An In-Law with a Dance in His Step

Posted on January 13, 2015 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m grateful for an extra father-in-law. Yes, you read that correctly.

MSH’s mom remarried about thirty years ago. Thing is she married a rancher. Everyone thought she was crazy heading off from a life in California to help raise the last half of a Wyoming cattleman’s children and run a household.

By Nikodem Nijaki (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0] via Wikimedia Commons

By Nikodem Nijaki (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0] via Wikimedia Commons

My kids always called him Grandpa. They didn’t care about family politics or the ins and outs and etiquette of widowers or divorced people. My kids only knew they felt loved from both of those people on the ranch, as well as the aunts and uncles and cousins they rubbed shoulders with. My son especially loved spending time up there. I suspect Grandma’s “good groceries” had something to do with it. I think getting the chance to ride motorcycles, drive trucks and tractors at a really early age, and generally spending the day outdoors and getting dirty kind of endeared him to Grandpa.

Grandpa showed equal attention to all the children and grandchildren and made no distinction whatsoever between his or hers especially when it came to grandkids. He capacity to love seems infinite.

I still remember him holding each of my girls on his knee and telling them stories and nursery rhymes. His favorite one he recently recited to a great-granddaughter. You have to read it closely or you’ll miss the subtle nuances.

Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard

to get her poor daughter a dress.

When she got there, the cupboard was bare,

and so was her daughter, I guess.

He has the most innocent and yet mischievous twinkle in his eye when he ends that rhyme.

What a marvelous sense of humor! I suppose you have to have a capacity for laughter if you live the life of a rancher. The whimsical humor of weather, insects, and markets could leave a person in a sour state of mind more often than not. He’s got the sweetest disposition you could imagine.

He loves to dance and can hardly sit still if a good dance tune starts playing. I’m pretty sure that’s how he charmed my mother-in-law into marrying him.

By Cgoodwin (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

By Cgoodwin (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons

His family, one of the first homesteaders in the valley they live in, raised eggs when he was a boy, dairy cows when he got older. He moved on to beef cattle after the dairy cows nearly wore him out. He’s seen his share of setbacks, heavy sorrows, challenges, health problems and heartaches. And yet, at eighty-one he gets restless in the winter without enough work outdoors to keep him busy.

Once spring starts thinking about appearing and the calving starts, he’s an energized, sunup to way past sundown ball of energy. I think he can outwork an eighteen year old.

I’ve never met a friendlier person either. When they visit us here, I swear he sees more people he knows than I do. He says he’s never met a stranger because he always introduces himself and gets to know a person right off. He has a kind heart to go with that friendlier demeanor, too.

Oh, my! Saints have nothing on him for the patience he has. But if you do something mean-hearted or downright wrong you’d better be prepared for an argument you won’t win. Rancher’s aren’t people to mess with.

In all his spare winter time he used to coach wrestling at the local high school as a volunteer. He changed lots of lives for the better that way. You could ask almost anyone who’s known him what a good man he is and what a difference he’s made in their community. They’ll back me up.

Grandpa might be short in stature, but he’s got the character of a giant. He’s one of the most valiant men I’ve ever known. What an honor and a blessing to know him and to count myself as family with him.

Thank you, Gary! You’re a bright spot of sunshine in the world!

 

~~~~~

“If you get to thinking you’re a person of some influence, try ordering somebody else’s dog around.” ~ Will Rogers 

 

Categories: Family, Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

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