One of the astrology websites that I like to read (Astrotwins), posed this question yesterday:
“If you could accomplish three things by the end of 2022, what would they be?” A true running marathon will not be on my list. Not in 2022. Not ever. A Netflix marathon is likely to just organically happen, without any intentions involved, especially if a series grabs my attention and my rabid impulsion “to see what happens next” gets to the best of me. Regardless of any kind of marathon, the above question in bold, is a good question to marinate on, at this end time of the year. Our youngest child will be graduating from high school and starting college in 2022. It’s going to be a brand new blank slate for me. I would like to accomplish a healthy, assured beginning, out of the starting gate of The Empty Nest arena. Here’s another good marinater that I read over this weekend:
“To remember who you are, you need to forget who they told you to be.” – Native American
Of course, Mondays aren’t necessarily great deep thought, marination days. The only thing that any of us really need to marinate this week, are our turkeys. Have a magnificent Monday! See you tomorrow.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Happy Friday, readers! Happy Favorite Things Friday!! What a great Friday we have here, with anticipating Thanksgiving right around the corner. Fortunately, our two older sons will be coming home, so all six of us will be enjoying our holiday together. This makes me feel extremely grateful. In other good news, Ralphie, our Labrador-who-is-quite-unhappily-and-totally-against-his-will-on-a-diet lost 11 pounds in two months. (much better than I did) His diet is clearly working! Ralphie still has about 10 pounds to go, and he still tries sneaking the other fur babies’ food every chance that he gets, but he is looking healthier and trimmer every single day. We are so proud of our Ralphie! While not trimming much off of any of my own body fat, I did trim 17,000 emails out of my inbox yesterday (and that is honestly, an understatement). I never bothered to delete emails for quite some time and then I started getting warnings from Google that I was running out of storage. I hemmed and I hawed but I finally just hit the delete button and I trashed 17,000 emails. Honestly, once I got past my nervousness, it felt incredible liberating and freeing. If only cleaning out my closets and drawers could be this easy!
Yes, I notice that I am quite chatty today. What can I say? It’s my favorite day of the week. Here is what you really came for, my three favorites for this Friday. Please check out more favorites in my previous Friday posts and please share some of your own favorites in my Comments section:
LitezAll COB LED magnifier – I’ve reached the age where magnifiers are easily in my top ten favorite things category, all of the time, and this is the best magnifying glass which I have ever owned. Why is this one so great, you ask? Because it is huge, lightweight, and because it has three bright LED lights that shine on whatever you are trying to see. And what’s even better, it’s cheap. I got mine at Ace Hardware but you can order one from Walmart or Amazon, as well.
n:p beautiful volumizing dry shampoo – Even when my hair is perfectly clean, I use this stuff. I love how full it makes my (honestly, kind of thin and fine) hair seem to be. In the words of my mentee (5th grader), “I want fluffy hair, like yours.” (What can I say? I grew up in the eighties.) Seriously, when you apply this dry shampoo, it sounds like you are taking a blow torch to your head, but the results are terrific (if you like fluffy hair, like mine). And even better, it doesn’t flake, like a lot of dry shampoos have the tendency to do.
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson – This book is really good, but it is not for the person who blanches at the f-word. The f-bomb is used in this book, as often as the word “the” is used in my blog. It’s a fun, light read with the key message “to lighten the F%ck up!”. The book was honestly recommended to me by my 17-year-old daughter, who had the book recommended to her, by one of her best friends, who was given the book to read, from her own father. (We love this friend and her family. I think that my daughter’s friend’s father knows that our girls are a tad high-strung and a little over-achieving at times, to the point that it crosses over to slightly unhealthy. At first when my daughter told me about this, I was like, WTF?!?, but after starting to read the book, I was like, “F@ck yeah!”) Here is an excerpt:
“Then, as we grow older and enter middle age, something else begins to change. Our energy level drops. Our identity solidifies. We know who we are and we accept ourselves, including some of the parts we aren’t thrilled about. And in a strange way this is liberating. We no longer need to give a f@ck about everything.”
Happy Friday Friends!! Only give a f@ck about the stuff that matters! Thanksgiving is great time to ponder what really matters to you. See you tomorrow!
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
When I let someone in traffic and they don’t wave, I picture myself using their guest soaps. – @a_simpl_man (Twitter)
This morning, this tweet literally made me laugh out loud, in recognition of myself – in more ways than one. I always find myself getting into a little tiz when someone doesn’t acknowledge my various small acts of kindness and consideration. But then I start admonishing myself that “I should do good, just for the sake of doing good, not for the appreciation and the pat on the back.” And then I spend more time thinking about how I really spend way too much thinking about situations like these, anyway. “For goodness sake, just let the guy come on to the road, and move on. Life is too short to waste time on overthinking about teeny perceived slights, by strangers. Grow up already!” Sometimes I honestly even waste my time spending it on the question, “Did the person I let on to the road, actually wave a thank you to me, and I somehow missed it because we were at a bad angle to each other?” Seriously. I can be that neurotic.
On the other hand, when someone lets me into traffic, I become almost frantic about making sure that they see my “wave of thankfulness.” I want to make sure that they see my gratefulness, so I become this crazy caricature of myself, waving like a maniacal buffoon. Sometimes I even stick my hands outside the window or through the sunroof, to make sure that the driver sees my symbol of gratitude and acknowledgement that I see them as one of the kind and thoughtful and patient people, that in my mind, makes this world a better place. Then, I imagine that the driver who lets me into traffic is thinking, “Calm down lady. It’s not like I bought you a new car. Take a chill pill.” And then once again, I get mad at myself for spending way too much time overthinking inconsequential happenings in my daily life, such as these.
This tweet also gave me a giggle about guest soaps. I grew up with guest soaps in every single bathroom of our house. And we knew NEVER to use those guest soaps, nor the fancy towels arranged pertly, by the ornate soaps. That would have been a deathwish. Those guest soaps sat there in their designated dishes, until they were infused with dust, stuck to the dish like they were super-glued onto the dish, and their once vibrant colors, faded to dingy dullness. These guest soap molds would start coming undone by time and by air, to the point that a soap which was once an intricate, detailed, lovely, expensive mermaid, was now nothing more than an oddly shaped lump that would more easily pass for maybe a hint of a manatee (and soon, even that became a stretch of the imagination).
I personally have Christmas guest soaps that I have owned for more than two decades. I put these soaps out in our powder room, every single year in an intricate Spode Christmas china soap dish. These soaps are clear glycerin with words like “Joy” and “Merry” infused inside of them. Last year I noticed that the clear glycerin has turned more into a muddled, dirty, grayish brown. These guest soaps have become so unsavory, that of course, now, no one would ever even dream of actually using the soaps, for sanitary purposes. (what an oxymoron) Still, I’m attached to these gaudy Christmas guest soaps. I contemplated it, but I just couldn’t throw them away last year. I will unpack the guest soaps again this year, and I will put them in the Spode dish, and all will feel right in my world this holiday season.
The other odd thing about fancy guest soaps is that they almost look edible, like fancy chocolates. When I was a kid, these soaps were scarily tempting to put into my mouth, to try and eat them. (It’s kind of like when you were a kid and no one could convince you that the Hershey cocoa powder would not, at all, taste like delicious hot cocoa packets. I think I had to learn that lesson more than once as a kid. I was a slower learner, in these ways of life.)
So, I just realized that I have spent about 40 more minutes of my life contemplating minutiae. And that’s okay. Just like waving or not waving to polite strangers, or using guest soaps or not using guest soaps, does not totally matter in the bigger scheme of things, it sometimes feels good to spend some time on “the small stuff.” Still, at the same time, it’s good to remember Richard Carlson’s famous, important, poignant line, “Don’t sweat the small stuff and it’s all small stuff.”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
We didn’t get many trick-or-treaters last night. My husband read that only 16% of parents planned to take their kids out trick-or-treating this year, as compared to 12% last year. COVID does not want us to have any fun. At least the percentages are going up, slowly but surely.
Have a great week, friends!!! Happy November!!!
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Surround yourself with people who pray for you behind your back .. those are yourpeople, those are your tribe
@TammyAIDip, Twitter
I feel your prayers, my friends. Thank you. Working through the trauma that comes with my youngest son’s epilepsy is a process, but the process feels lighter with the loving and kind energy of prayer and well wishes, moving through it. Again, thank you. I treasure you, my tribe.
“I always like for other kids to know that my kids’ mom is a little bit psycho.” – @emily_tweets, Twitter
I love this tweet. All of my children and their friends know that I have my quirks, and that I usually proudly own my quirks. I think that it is my middle son (the matter-of-factual medical school student) who would most deeply relate to this tweet shown above.
My middle son is reserved. His teachers used to love to accuse him of being shy, but that’s not honestly the case. There is a big difference. My middle son is confident, he just doesn’t care for spectacles. My middle son has a stealth self-containment. In the midst of chaos, he isn’t chaotic, but it turns out that he is often that sneaky instigator of the tumultuous happenings all around him. You know the type.
When my middle son was in elementary school, parents took turns organizing surprise “Fun Friday” activities for his kindergarten class. Now my regular readers know that I love Fridays. Fridays put me in almost a holiday kind of spirit. I get giddy, sometimes even ecstatic, on Fridays. And my closest friends and my family know that, unlike my middle son, I’m not particularly reserved. So on my turn of heading up a Fun Friday for my son’s class, I decided to go all out.
My middle son is an automobile enthusiast. He’s going to be that guy whose garage will always be more pristine, and probably larger than his house. He has loved cars since he could steadily hold one or two brightly colored Matchbox race cars, in his precious little chubby baby fist. He can name the make and model (and probably even the year) of any car he sees, like he is a walking Blue Book. So it was inevitable. I decided that I would go all out with “the car theme” for Fun Friday.
We were living in Charlotte, NC, at the time, and we had friends who worked at NASCAR, so I asked to borrow a racer’s suit. I also borrowed another friend’s motorcycle helmet. That Fun Friday, I proudly promenaded down the hall of the elementary school, donning my race gear, like I was a model on a catwalk. I had bags full of activities and stuff, all related to cars, that we were going to enjoy in his kindergarten class’ Fun Friday. And I, on that particular Friday, wasn’t just wearing a race car suit . . . . I was a race car driver, and a good one. On that day, me and Jesus, had the wheel.
I confidently opened the door of his classroom, where the children were sitting on the floor with each other working on a math activity. I stood in the doorway, hands on my hips, and then I whipped off my heavy helmet with panache. I smiled broadly (and probably in my son’s mind, a tad fanatically), as I eyed him, wondering, with glee, what he thought of my surprise entrance.
My middle son looked at me, eyes widened, and he gasped in horror. He turned to his friend sitting next to him, and in a loud whisper aimed towards his friend’s ear (and anyone else in close proximity), my son firmly pronounced, “Yeah, don’t mind her. She’s a little kooky!”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
It’s been nice and cool here the last couple of days. (70s is cold weather here) I’m loving it. The sun is smiling sweetly on us, instead of scorching us with the deathrays of Florida summers. It’s honestly like a switch has been flipped. I want to put a proverbial piece of masking tape over that switch with “Do Not Touch” sharpied on the tape. I am feeling hopeful this Monday. I wish the same for you.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Hilda: Well, here we are again. Two snowbirds in Florida, baking in the sun. I see you joined me in gaining some pandemic pounds, Zelda.
Zelda: Oh Hildy, focus on the positive. Our spray tans are divine!
Hilda: Well, I’m thinking of getting a little work done, ya know? A little carving out, here and there.
Zelda: Oh Hilda, you are hauntingly lovely, just the way you are . . . by the way, did I tell you I got a Zoomsla, ya know, an electric broom. In ten Halloweens, we are all going to be flying electric. And all of my new potions are gluten and cruelty free.
Hilda: Cruelty free?!? What’s the fun in being a witch, then?!?
Zelda: Hilda, what do you call witches, like us, who live at the beach?
Hilda: Groan.
Zelda: Sand-witches! (Cackle! Cackle! Cackle!)
Hilda: Zelda, don’t make me fly off the handle with your stupid jokes. You drive me batty!
Zelda: Honestly, Hilda, I wouldn’t know the difference. You have the same expression all of the time: Resting Witch Face.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Turning 50 brings unexpected gifts. Yesterday, I happily received my first shingles vaccine. Having had family members and friends who have gotten the actual shingles virus, and told me (and texted terrifying pictures) of the horrors of the ordeal that still end up in my nightmares (my uncle, a military veteran, who had gone through more health treatments than almost anyone I know, once emphasized to me, that shingles was by far, the worst experience of his life), I had no hesitancy about pulling up my sleeve for this one. I was one of those sheltered, late bloomers who didn’t get the chickenpox until I was in my early twenties. It was a beyond miserable trauma, and plenty enough for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Since shingles is related to the chickenpox, I’m not taking any chances. When I was 48, I once went into a Walgreens and begged for the vaccine. (I even considered getting a fake ID – ha!) They turned me away. I had to be the magic age of 50.
I like that when you turn 50, you all of the sudden qualify for extra health treatments, like shingles vaccines and colonoscopies. These aren’t spa experiences, of course, but they are a measure of prevention. Telling me to get these procedures done, says to me, “Hey lady, you may becoming a little high-mileage, but you’re a classic. You are worth maintaining. We want you for the long haul.”
So, truthfully my arm hurts a lot, I’m a little achy all over, and I didn’t sleep very well last night, but it was worth it. I feel valued – by myself, and by my community. Sometimes, tender, loving care comes in all sorts of strange forms, but care is care. And care feels good.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I think that there is no other time of year than around Halloween, that you see everyone’s creativity come out more vividly than ever. Fall is certainly a colorful time of year, isn’t it? I love it! Here’s hoping for a fun and wonderful and easy-going week for all of us!
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
