Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for bird boarders and new nests.
Although winter intends to linger for a few more weeks, the cool temperatures don't deter the birds from completing their A-priority tasks. Afterall, it's nest building season in the neighborhood.
This morning, as T and I hike along the trail, we watch as the finches, sparrows, robins, magpies, and blue jays busily collect an assortment of excellent building materials. The open meadow provides a treasure trove of straw, grass, twigs and mud. The birds are picky shoppers, comparing this twig to that one before making their final selection. In fact, they are so focused on their mission that they don't fly away when T pulls me onto the field for a closer look.
Last year, the Christmas wreath that hangs on our front door was prime avian real estate - sheltered from the sun and wind, protected from natural predators, and managed by animal-loving landlords. Over the spring and summer months, finch and robin families took up residence. (Unfortunately, only one finch family survived - I'll save that story for another day.) Two nests still adorn the wreath. I wonder if finches and robins return to the same nesting site year after year. We would welcome them back to raise new families. It's really not an inconvenience - once the mother lays the eggs, we just don't use the front door until the eggs hatch and the mother begins leaving the nest to forage. Perhaps I should erect a "for rent" sign near the porch.
We'll wait a few more weeks to see if the wreath attracts new boarders. If not, I'll take it down, wipe away the winter dust, and store it in the basement until next Thanksgiving.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Sunday, 27 February 2005 - A mid-day nap
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a mid-day nap.
I am trying to go to bed by midnight so I can rise with the sun and take T for longer walks. However, the moment I decide to call it quits for the night, my current knitting project begs me to knit just one more row. The one row grows to ten or twenty so I don't get to bed until after 1 AM. Most days, I do just fine on five or six hours' sleep. Today, is an exception.
Around mid-afternoon, I nod off while trying to solve the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle. I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. An hour or so later, I awake with a start. T is nudging me with his cold, wet nose. It's time for his afternoon walk.
I arise, feeling quite alert and energized. I am now ready for the rest of the day's activities: take T for a walk, finish the crossword puzzle, watch the Academy Awards ceremony, and knit for hours.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for a mid-day nap.
I am trying to go to bed by midnight so I can rise with the sun and take T for longer walks. However, the moment I decide to call it quits for the night, my current knitting project begs me to knit just one more row. The one row grows to ten or twenty so I don't get to bed until after 1 AM. Most days, I do just fine on five or six hours' sleep. Today, is an exception.
Around mid-afternoon, I nod off while trying to solve the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle. I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. An hour or so later, I awake with a start. T is nudging me with his cold, wet nose. It's time for his afternoon walk.
I arise, feeling quite alert and energized. I am now ready for the rest of the day's activities: take T for a walk, finish the crossword puzzle, watch the Academy Awards ceremony, and knit for hours.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Saturday, 26 February 2005 - Hot cup of green tea
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a hot cup of green tea.
I love the aroma of the fragrant tea leaves as they steep in hot water. I lift the mug to my lips and take a sip of the hot brew. The heat settles in my core, warming me from the inside out, gently thawing my soul.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for a hot cup of green tea.
I love the aroma of the fragrant tea leaves as they steep in hot water. I lift the mug to my lips and take a sip of the hot brew. The heat settles in my core, warming me from the inside out, gently thawing my soul.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Friday, 25 February 2005 - Random acts of kindness
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for random acts of kindness.
Recently, I have been the perpetrator and recipient of these acts. Although I prefer the giving, I am learning to enjoy the receiving.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for random acts of kindness.
Recently, I have been the perpetrator and recipient of these acts. Although I prefer the giving, I am learning to enjoy the receiving.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Thursday, 24 February 2005 - Signs of spring
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for signs of spring.
The finches are back. As T and I leave the house for our morning walk, they chirp and sing cheerful airs while hiding in our neighbor's towering blue spruce. Since I can't see them, I imagine them dancing on the tree branches. We join the impromptu festival for a few minutes, relishing the crisp air, warm sun and blue skies while lively birdsongs herald the coming of spring.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for signs of spring.
The finches are back. As T and I leave the house for our morning walk, they chirp and sing cheerful airs while hiding in our neighbor's towering blue spruce. Since I can't see them, I imagine them dancing on the tree branches. We join the impromptu festival for a few minutes, relishing the crisp air, warm sun and blue skies while lively birdsongs herald the coming of spring.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Wednesday, 23 February 2005 - Writer's block
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for writer's block.
I just can't think straight today which means I'm having trouble writing. So, I'm ending this journal entry early. I think someone's trying to tell me to listen more and say less.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for writer's block.
I just can't think straight today which means I'm having trouble writing. So, I'm ending this journal entry early. I think someone's trying to tell me to listen more and say less.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Wednesday, 23 February 2005 - A warm house
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a warm house.
Our latest home improvement adventure ended yesterday with the installment of a new heating system. We said good-bye to the old furnace and welcomed the new one with open arms.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for a warm house.
Our latest home improvement adventure ended yesterday with the installment of a new heating system. We said good-bye to the old furnace and welcomed the new one with open arms.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Tuesday, 22 February 2005 - Memories preserved in photographs
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for memories preserved in photographs.
My niece, R, celebrates her 16th birthday today. Unfortunately for me, she lives in California so I'm missing another birthday party. I think about her frequently during the day, pausing several times to study the array of photographs through which I celebrate her life.
Click. R is born, a beautiful baby with exquisite blue eyes. Her contented smile tells me that she knows she's part of a wonderful family with the very best parents.
Click. R is three, wearing one of the corduroy jumpers I made for her. She mugs for the camera, making a really silly face. Of course, all I see is the face of an angel.
Click. Click. Click. School pictures. Dance recitals. Christmas mornings. Halloween costumes. Birthday parties. Disneyland. Soccer games. London. Paris. Colorado. Family reunions. High school. And now, Sweet Sixteen.
Happy Birthday, R.
For this blessing, I am very grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for memories preserved in photographs.
My niece, R, celebrates her 16th birthday today. Unfortunately for me, she lives in California so I'm missing another birthday party. I think about her frequently during the day, pausing several times to study the array of photographs through which I celebrate her life.
Click. R is born, a beautiful baby with exquisite blue eyes. Her contented smile tells me that she knows she's part of a wonderful family with the very best parents.
Click. R is three, wearing one of the corduroy jumpers I made for her. She mugs for the camera, making a really silly face. Of course, all I see is the face of an angel.
Click. Click. Click. School pictures. Dance recitals. Christmas mornings. Halloween costumes. Birthday parties. Disneyland. Soccer games. London. Paris. Colorado. Family reunions. High school. And now, Sweet Sixteen.
Happy Birthday, R.
For this blessing, I am very grateful.
Amen.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Monday, 21 February 2005 - My warmest sweater
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for my warmest sweater, electric space heaters and one Chocolate Labrador Retriever asleep at my feet.
The weekend: Our furnace died - an event over which you panic when it's winter and you live in Colorado. My husband discovers the problem early Saturday morning when he awakens to a very cold house. I sigh deeply when I learn of our bad luck - seems like every major plumbing and heating problem we experience occurs at night or on weekends when service calls demand premium rates.
We decide to wait until Monday before seeking professional help. Fortunately, the weather cooperates. On Saturday and Sunday, mild daytime temperatures and bright sunshine warm the west-facing rooms. After sunset, we don extra layers of clothing and run space heaters in the main rooms and basement (to prevent the pipes from freezing). As usual, T is just fine, staying warm under his dense, all-weather fur. At night, he sleeps at my feet while I knit my latest project and watch The Lord of the Rings, Return on the King and Masterpiece Theater.
Monday: S finds a locally-owned HVAC company that doesn't charge an arm and a leg to diagnose heating problems. After meeting with the consultant, we ponder our options: (1) pay for one or more expensive repairs that will put our 18-year old furnace on life-support for a few more years or (2) buy a new heating system that costs much more than any repair but will last another 25 years.
We choose the latter. Now the fun begins. The consultant assesses our needs. We discuss makes and models before selecting a system that will work for us. S skillfully negotiates the price. We sign on the dotted line.
Our purchase includes a modern Lennox two-stage furnace and humidifer complete with the latest safety features and energy efficiencies. They will install the new system tomorrow - just in time for the next wave of wintry weather. We expect an arctic cold front and snow showers Tuesday night.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for my warmest sweater, electric space heaters and one Chocolate Labrador Retriever asleep at my feet.
The weekend: Our furnace died - an event over which you panic when it's winter and you live in Colorado. My husband discovers the problem early Saturday morning when he awakens to a very cold house. I sigh deeply when I learn of our bad luck - seems like every major plumbing and heating problem we experience occurs at night or on weekends when service calls demand premium rates.
We decide to wait until Monday before seeking professional help. Fortunately, the weather cooperates. On Saturday and Sunday, mild daytime temperatures and bright sunshine warm the west-facing rooms. After sunset, we don extra layers of clothing and run space heaters in the main rooms and basement (to prevent the pipes from freezing). As usual, T is just fine, staying warm under his dense, all-weather fur. At night, he sleeps at my feet while I knit my latest project and watch The Lord of the Rings, Return on the King and Masterpiece Theater.
Monday: S finds a locally-owned HVAC company that doesn't charge an arm and a leg to diagnose heating problems. After meeting with the consultant, we ponder our options: (1) pay for one or more expensive repairs that will put our 18-year old furnace on life-support for a few more years or (2) buy a new heating system that costs much more than any repair but will last another 25 years.
We choose the latter. Now the fun begins. The consultant assesses our needs. We discuss makes and models before selecting a system that will work for us. S skillfully negotiates the price. We sign on the dotted line.
Our purchase includes a modern Lennox two-stage furnace and humidifer complete with the latest safety features and energy efficiencies. They will install the new system tomorrow - just in time for the next wave of wintry weather. We expect an arctic cold front and snow showers Tuesday night.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Sunday, 20 February 2005 - The road less traveled
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for the road less traveled.
My decisions may not support popular opinion, but they've made my life unpredictable, challenging and totally mine. As a high school student, I fell in love with Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken, and embraced its message as a theme for my life. During the past 50 years, I've taken many roads heading east, west, north, or south - each one leading to the exact place I was suppose to be for that moment or day or year.
I remember the roads not taken - the "what ifs" and "could haves" of my life. At the end of the day, however, I know that those paths were meant for some else. By choosing them, I would have strayed from my God-given destiny. Instead, I celebrate all the roads I've walked and marvel at how they've brought me to this very point in time. I anticipate my next adventure and hope it leads me to Paris or the French countryside.
I know my days are numbered. Now, as I embrace the autumn of my life, I realize the importance of each new twist and turn in the road. Every runner knows how the race intensifies as the end approaches. The last 100 yards are the longest and most agonizing. Yet, you run harder, sprinting down the straight-away towards the finish line and uncertain victory.
Until I breathe my last breath, I will heartily agree with the traveler in Frost's poem as she explains her dilemma, ultimate choice and conclusion about the whole affair: Two roads diverged in the woods and I, I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Today, I am thankful for the road less traveled.
My decisions may not support popular opinion, but they've made my life unpredictable, challenging and totally mine. As a high school student, I fell in love with Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken, and embraced its message as a theme for my life. During the past 50 years, I've taken many roads heading east, west, north, or south - each one leading to the exact place I was suppose to be for that moment or day or year.
I remember the roads not taken - the "what ifs" and "could haves" of my life. At the end of the day, however, I know that those paths were meant for some else. By choosing them, I would have strayed from my God-given destiny. Instead, I celebrate all the roads I've walked and marvel at how they've brought me to this very point in time. I anticipate my next adventure and hope it leads me to Paris or the French countryside.
I know my days are numbered. Now, as I embrace the autumn of my life, I realize the importance of each new twist and turn in the road. Every runner knows how the race intensifies as the end approaches. The last 100 yards are the longest and most agonizing. Yet, you run harder, sprinting down the straight-away towards the finish line and uncertain victory.
Until I breathe my last breath, I will heartily agree with the traveler in Frost's poem as she explains her dilemma, ultimate choice and conclusion about the whole affair: Two roads diverged in the woods and I, I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Saturday, 19 February 2005 - A time to remember the past
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a time to remember the past.
My parents and their siblings are members of Tom Brokaw's "greatest generation." But, because of their Japanese ancestry, they suffered many indignities wrought by fear, bigotry and hatred. The worst came after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
On February 19, 1942, President Franklin D. Rooselvelt signed Executive Order 9066 which "permitted the military to circumvent the constitutional safeguards of American citizens in the name of national defense. The order set into motion the exclusion from certain areas, and the evacuation and mass incarceration of 120,000 persons of Japanese ancestry living on the West Coast, most of whom were U.S. citizens or legal permanent resident aliens" (http://www.children-of-the-camps.org/history/index.html).
For Japanese-Americans, today is Remembrance Day. This morning, I pause to honor the occasion.
Midway through our walk, T and I stand on the ridge and gaze eastward. It's so clear, I can see Kansas. The sun warms my face. I close my eyes, think of my parents, and pray a simple prayer: Dear God, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for a time to remember the past.
My parents and their siblings are members of Tom Brokaw's "greatest generation." But, because of their Japanese ancestry, they suffered many indignities wrought by fear, bigotry and hatred. The worst came after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
On February 19, 1942, President Franklin D. Rooselvelt signed Executive Order 9066 which "permitted the military to circumvent the constitutional safeguards of American citizens in the name of national defense. The order set into motion the exclusion from certain areas, and the evacuation and mass incarceration of 120,000 persons of Japanese ancestry living on the West Coast, most of whom were U.S. citizens or legal permanent resident aliens" (http://www.children-of-the-camps.org/history/index.html).
For Japanese-Americans, today is Remembrance Day. This morning, I pause to honor the occasion.
Midway through our walk, T and I stand on the ridge and gaze eastward. It's so clear, I can see Kansas. The sun warms my face. I close my eyes, think of my parents, and pray a simple prayer: Dear God, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Friday, 18 February 2005 - Local wildlife
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for the local wildlife with whom we co-exist.
T and I are hiking the trail this morning. It's humid and very cold. I can see T's breath as he stops to sniff the underbrush. I feel the air's icy prickles on my nostrils. I urge T to walk briskly so I can warm up. I'm glad I wore a hat and thick socks.
I usually daydream during our morning walks, preoccupied by what I will write when I return home. However, earlier this week, a lady at the post office warned me about a mountain lion sighting near our neighborhood, so I am more vigilant than usual. I don't anticipate any trouble - we're not hiking during prime mountain lion hours.
As our path winds through the open meadow, I look ahead and see a coyote standing on the trail about 100 feet away. His presence doesn't surprise me. Since we live in the foothills, we're used to seeing wildlife including deer, rabbits, hawks, snakes, coyotes, raccoons, mountain lions, foxes, and bears.
Each wildlife sighting, however, is special. Most of the surrounding open spaces that we've enjoyed for years are now luxury housing developments. As their natural habitats disappear, our wildlife friends retreat to the mountains for refuge. I'm sad to see them go - afterall, they were here first.
We stop so I can observe the coyote's actions. He stares at us with keen eyes, taking a good look at T. Then, sensing that we're harmless, he appears to shrug his shoulders before turning around and casually trotting away. I lose sight of him when he leaves the trail and heads for the scrub oak. I hope he has a very good day at the office.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for the local wildlife with whom we co-exist.
T and I are hiking the trail this morning. It's humid and very cold. I can see T's breath as he stops to sniff the underbrush. I feel the air's icy prickles on my nostrils. I urge T to walk briskly so I can warm up. I'm glad I wore a hat and thick socks.
I usually daydream during our morning walks, preoccupied by what I will write when I return home. However, earlier this week, a lady at the post office warned me about a mountain lion sighting near our neighborhood, so I am more vigilant than usual. I don't anticipate any trouble - we're not hiking during prime mountain lion hours.
As our path winds through the open meadow, I look ahead and see a coyote standing on the trail about 100 feet away. His presence doesn't surprise me. Since we live in the foothills, we're used to seeing wildlife including deer, rabbits, hawks, snakes, coyotes, raccoons, mountain lions, foxes, and bears.
Each wildlife sighting, however, is special. Most of the surrounding open spaces that we've enjoyed for years are now luxury housing developments. As their natural habitats disappear, our wildlife friends retreat to the mountains for refuge. I'm sad to see them go - afterall, they were here first.
We stop so I can observe the coyote's actions. He stares at us with keen eyes, taking a good look at T. Then, sensing that we're harmless, he appears to shrug his shoulders before turning around and casually trotting away. I lose sight of him when he leaves the trail and heads for the scrub oak. I hope he has a very good day at the office.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Thursday, 17 February 2005 - Human interactions
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for human interactions.
Welcome to the world of self-service check-outs. Today, I can borrow books from the library, buy gas at the Shell station, and mail packages at the post office without speaking to a single person as long as I swipe the right card and answer "yes" or "no" when prompted.
Although I love technology and how it improves my life, I prefer to deal directly with people when I run errands. I guess that's why I patronize locally-owned businesses rather than the chains. I like to know the owners personally - spending quality time in their shops so I can learn who they are and what they're thinking. In return, they take very good care of me.
When I walk into the consignment store, Eve tells me that she was thinking about me that morning and shows me an assortment of beautiful clothes in my size. When I walk into the natural foods store, Randy and Patty greet me by name, show me which fruits and vegetables are the freshest, and help me carry my purchases to the car. When I walk into the library, the front desk clerk smiles and asks how my writing is progressing or if I've designed new jewelry or knit new scarves.
Yes, I like to save money, but not if it means sacrificing great service and new friends. You see, for me, the human touch is priceless.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for human interactions.
Welcome to the world of self-service check-outs. Today, I can borrow books from the library, buy gas at the Shell station, and mail packages at the post office without speaking to a single person as long as I swipe the right card and answer "yes" or "no" when prompted.
Although I love technology and how it improves my life, I prefer to deal directly with people when I run errands. I guess that's why I patronize locally-owned businesses rather than the chains. I like to know the owners personally - spending quality time in their shops so I can learn who they are and what they're thinking. In return, they take very good care of me.
When I walk into the consignment store, Eve tells me that she was thinking about me that morning and shows me an assortment of beautiful clothes in my size. When I walk into the natural foods store, Randy and Patty greet me by name, show me which fruits and vegetables are the freshest, and help me carry my purchases to the car. When I walk into the library, the front desk clerk smiles and asks how my writing is progressing or if I've designed new jewelry or knit new scarves.
Yes, I like to save money, but not if it means sacrificing great service and new friends. You see, for me, the human touch is priceless.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Wednesday, 16 February 2005 - Bargain shopping
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for the joys of shopping for a bargain so I can satisfy my champagne tastes on a beer budget.
I love beautiful, well-made, distinctive clothes, shoes and handbags, especially ones bearing designer labels. Thank goodness I am also an excellent shopper with an eye for high quality at low prices. For several years, I've bought most of my wardrobe from consignment stores stocked with incredible deals. Now, one of my favorite resale boutiques resides on Ebay.
"M" sells fabulous, gently-used and new designer clothing, shoes, handbags and accessories for a mere fraction of the original price, perfect for those of us on a budget. The items come from well-heeled closets including her own. One of her friends wears my size, so I love to look at these gorgeous clothes when they come up for auction. If I don't check M's site daily, I'll miss out on the fun. Her customers snap up the bargains, so items rarely remain listed for more than a day.
Although the prospect of buying high fashion at low prices lures me to her site, I also enjoy reading M's descriptions. She is a gifted storyteller. Like an experienced auctioneer, she enthusiastically shares the intimate history behind the item up for bid while extolling its potential for future adventures with a new owner.
The anecdotes and comments personalize the online shopping experience. I may never meet M in person, but I know her clothes very well.
Recently, I read about the "hot" $1,000 Donna Karan jacket that M wore for 5 hours at a holiday cocktail party. She never found another occasion to wear it. So, after a year of indecision, she's selling the jacket for $60. I consider her girlfriend's brand new authentic Fendi purse, a last minute, expensive gift from the husband. It's a steal at $135. I admire the $800 chocolate brown cashmere cardigan sweater selling for $75 (too bad it's too big for me). M explains that she bought it for her sister as a Christmas gift, but ended up giving something else. Now the sweater is ready for a new home.
I always look, engaging in the sport of "cyber window shopping," but only buy occasionally. Since I no longer wear a corporate uniform, most of the clothes, shoes and accessories don't fit my jeans and sweater lifestyle. I did, however, splurge on a luxurious $700 designer suit made from French wool and cashmere, paying $40 for this amazing outfit. When I saw the photograph of the suit, I fell in love with the jacket. Now that it's mine, I can report that it fits perfectly and looks great with jeans. But, more importantly, I feel like a million bucks each time I wear it.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for the joys of shopping for a bargain so I can satisfy my champagne tastes on a beer budget.
I love beautiful, well-made, distinctive clothes, shoes and handbags, especially ones bearing designer labels. Thank goodness I am also an excellent shopper with an eye for high quality at low prices. For several years, I've bought most of my wardrobe from consignment stores stocked with incredible deals. Now, one of my favorite resale boutiques resides on Ebay.
"M" sells fabulous, gently-used and new designer clothing, shoes, handbags and accessories for a mere fraction of the original price, perfect for those of us on a budget. The items come from well-heeled closets including her own. One of her friends wears my size, so I love to look at these gorgeous clothes when they come up for auction. If I don't check M's site daily, I'll miss out on the fun. Her customers snap up the bargains, so items rarely remain listed for more than a day.
Although the prospect of buying high fashion at low prices lures me to her site, I also enjoy reading M's descriptions. She is a gifted storyteller. Like an experienced auctioneer, she enthusiastically shares the intimate history behind the item up for bid while extolling its potential for future adventures with a new owner.
The anecdotes and comments personalize the online shopping experience. I may never meet M in person, but I know her clothes very well.
Recently, I read about the "hot" $1,000 Donna Karan jacket that M wore for 5 hours at a holiday cocktail party. She never found another occasion to wear it. So, after a year of indecision, she's selling the jacket for $60. I consider her girlfriend's brand new authentic Fendi purse, a last minute, expensive gift from the husband. It's a steal at $135. I admire the $800 chocolate brown cashmere cardigan sweater selling for $75 (too bad it's too big for me). M explains that she bought it for her sister as a Christmas gift, but ended up giving something else. Now the sweater is ready for a new home.
I always look, engaging in the sport of "cyber window shopping," but only buy occasionally. Since I no longer wear a corporate uniform, most of the clothes, shoes and accessories don't fit my jeans and sweater lifestyle. I did, however, splurge on a luxurious $700 designer suit made from French wool and cashmere, paying $40 for this amazing outfit. When I saw the photograph of the suit, I fell in love with the jacket. Now that it's mine, I can report that it fits perfectly and looks great with jeans. But, more importantly, I feel like a million bucks each time I wear it.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Tuesday, 15 February 2005 - Small extravagances
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for small extravagances.
I grocery shop on Tuesdays or Fridays. On those days, the local co-ops deliver fresh organic produce to my favorite natural foods stores. I try to buy in-season as much as possible. In winter, however, I often tire of the selection - hard squash, root vegetables and broccoli; citrus fruit, pears and apples. Sometimes, I crave just a small taste of summer to lighten our winter menu of soups and stews and casseroles. Occasionally, the craving overtakes my sensibilities, and I indulge in a small extravagance.
I walk over to the gourmet produce section and admire the out-of-season fruits and vegetables. My heartbeat quickens as my eyes rest on the display of tender asparagus priced at a mere $7.00 a pound. After taking a minute to determine if we can afford this luxury, I decide that we can. I happily select the best looking bunch and carefully place it in the cart. As I head for the check-out stand, I can already taste the star of tonight's dinner: fresh asparagus dressed in an olive oil drizzle and sea salt sprinkle, then roasted to perfection. Bon appetit!
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for small extravagances.
I grocery shop on Tuesdays or Fridays. On those days, the local co-ops deliver fresh organic produce to my favorite natural foods stores. I try to buy in-season as much as possible. In winter, however, I often tire of the selection - hard squash, root vegetables and broccoli; citrus fruit, pears and apples. Sometimes, I crave just a small taste of summer to lighten our winter menu of soups and stews and casseroles. Occasionally, the craving overtakes my sensibilities, and I indulge in a small extravagance.
I walk over to the gourmet produce section and admire the out-of-season fruits and vegetables. My heartbeat quickens as my eyes rest on the display of tender asparagus priced at a mere $7.00 a pound. After taking a minute to determine if we can afford this luxury, I decide that we can. I happily select the best looking bunch and carefully place it in the cart. As I head for the check-out stand, I can already taste the star of tonight's dinner: fresh asparagus dressed in an olive oil drizzle and sea salt sprinkle, then roasted to perfection. Bon appetit!
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Monday, 14 February 2005 - My mission statement
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for my mission statement.
When I turned 50, I realized that the old rules that molded me for a half century no longer applied to my new pursuit of creative and enlightening adventures. So, I decided to write a mission statement for my life.
Mission statements abound in the corporate world. During my career, I've helped many executives and managers craft such statements for their respective companies and departments. I understand their importance in achieving harmony and profitability in the workplace.
I decided that my mission statement would be my code of conduct, a list of simple rules by which I would live. Now, when I make decisions, I check my "choice" against the rules to see if they jive. If not, I know that I need to reconsider my proposed actions.
Welcome to Me, Inc.
At Me, Inc., my mission is:
To live with integrity, humility, joy and courage.
To express myself creatively and passionately.
To give generously of my talents, time, energy and wealth.
To lead by example.
To serve God in all things I do.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for my mission statement.
When I turned 50, I realized that the old rules that molded me for a half century no longer applied to my new pursuit of creative and enlightening adventures. So, I decided to write a mission statement for my life.
Mission statements abound in the corporate world. During my career, I've helped many executives and managers craft such statements for their respective companies and departments. I understand their importance in achieving harmony and profitability in the workplace.
I decided that my mission statement would be my code of conduct, a list of simple rules by which I would live. Now, when I make decisions, I check my "choice" against the rules to see if they jive. If not, I know that I need to reconsider my proposed actions.
Welcome to Me, Inc.
At Me, Inc., my mission is:
To live with integrity, humility, joy and courage.
To express myself creatively and passionately.
To give generously of my talents, time, energy and wealth.
To lead by example.
To serve God in all things I do.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Sunday, 13 February 2005 - Our Dyson vacuum cleaner
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for our Dyson vacuum cleaner.
We dearly love, T, our chocolate Labrador Retriever, but he sheds 24x7x365. I hope you can appreciate my battles trying to keep the carpet and furniture free of dander and dog hair. Recently, when our trusty vacuum cleaner died after over 12 years of service, we decided to buy a new one.
On the Internet, I researched different brands to see which one worked the best in a Lab-centric home. My findings: Lab owners love Dyson vacuum cleaners. In testimonial after testimonial, they raved about its power and exceptional dog hair collection abilities. So, we bought one and, so far, are very satisfied customers.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for our Dyson vacuum cleaner.
We dearly love, T, our chocolate Labrador Retriever, but he sheds 24x7x365. I hope you can appreciate my battles trying to keep the carpet and furniture free of dander and dog hair. Recently, when our trusty vacuum cleaner died after over 12 years of service, we decided to buy a new one.
On the Internet, I researched different brands to see which one worked the best in a Lab-centric home. My findings: Lab owners love Dyson vacuum cleaners. In testimonial after testimonial, they raved about its power and exceptional dog hair collection abilities. So, we bought one and, so far, are very satisfied customers.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Saturday, 12 February 2005 - My husband's optimism
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for my husband's optimism.
On the coldest mornings, T still insists that I take him for a walk. I am, however, less enthusiastic about facing the single digit temperature and wind chill. I expect the worst and dress accordingly. T is impatient as I choose my outfit. He, of course, doesn't have to decide what to wear. His dense fur keeps him warm in the most bone-chilling arctic air, and his all-weather paws can negotiate any terrain including ice.
Finally, I am ready to go. I leave the house dressed in my winter best: expedition-weight Capilene tops and bottoms, an insulated Gore-Tex jacket, Smartwool socks, Teva snow boots, my favorite Polarfleece hat and heavy ski gloves.
On our way to the park, we pass the middle school kids waiting for the bus. It really must be cold for even our neighbor boys wear hats and heavy coats. Then, I see him - the boy wearing shorts beneath his parka, the one daring to defy winter's chill. I'm sure his mother, after much arguing about this outfit, finally gave in after he agreed to wear a jacket.
My husband could have been this young man had he grown up in Colorado instead of Southern California. S is the quintessential child of summer, the one for whom the glass is always half full, the optimist who feels the sun's warmth even on a record cold day in the heart of winter, the Libra spirit who keeps our lives in balance. How fortuntate for me, the Pisces woman who dwells in winter. His sunny disposition breaks through my moodiness, coaxing me to set aside my fears and face the music with a smile.
For this blessing, I am very grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for my husband's optimism.
On the coldest mornings, T still insists that I take him for a walk. I am, however, less enthusiastic about facing the single digit temperature and wind chill. I expect the worst and dress accordingly. T is impatient as I choose my outfit. He, of course, doesn't have to decide what to wear. His dense fur keeps him warm in the most bone-chilling arctic air, and his all-weather paws can negotiate any terrain including ice.
Finally, I am ready to go. I leave the house dressed in my winter best: expedition-weight Capilene tops and bottoms, an insulated Gore-Tex jacket, Smartwool socks, Teva snow boots, my favorite Polarfleece hat and heavy ski gloves.
On our way to the park, we pass the middle school kids waiting for the bus. It really must be cold for even our neighbor boys wear hats and heavy coats. Then, I see him - the boy wearing shorts beneath his parka, the one daring to defy winter's chill. I'm sure his mother, after much arguing about this outfit, finally gave in after he agreed to wear a jacket.
My husband could have been this young man had he grown up in Colorado instead of Southern California. S is the quintessential child of summer, the one for whom the glass is always half full, the optimist who feels the sun's warmth even on a record cold day in the heart of winter, the Libra spirit who keeps our lives in balance. How fortuntate for me, the Pisces woman who dwells in winter. His sunny disposition breaks through my moodiness, coaxing me to set aside my fears and face the music with a smile.
For this blessing, I am very grateful.
Amen.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Friday, 11 February 2005 - The truth about good writing
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for Little Women, the book that taught me the truth about good writing.
As a young writer, I had a wild imagination and wrote about a world that lay far beyond my limited life experience. Then, around age 9, I read Little Women. When Professor Bauer urged Jo to write about only the things she had truly felt in her heart, I knew he was also speaking to me.
Now, as an older and more seasoned writer, I comment on my half-century of living on planet Earth through poems, essays and this grateful journal. I've cultivated a rich and creative inner life and don't mind sharing the fruits of my existence with my audience.
A few years ago, I received the following prophesy:
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for Little Women, the book that taught me the truth about good writing.
As a young writer, I had a wild imagination and wrote about a world that lay far beyond my limited life experience. Then, around age 9, I read Little Women. When Professor Bauer urged Jo to write about only the things she had truly felt in her heart, I knew he was also speaking to me.
Now, as an older and more seasoned writer, I comment on my half-century of living on planet Earth through poems, essays and this grateful journal. I've cultivated a rich and creative inner life and don't mind sharing the fruits of my existence with my audience.
A few years ago, I received the following prophesy:
Not only in the writing of books, my daughter, the Lord says I am going to cause you to be an open book before my people ...With each word I write, I am joyously stepping into my destiny.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Thursday, 10 February 2005 - Others can learn from my mistakes
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful that others can learn from my mistakes.
I hate my gray hair and have spent lots of time and money at the salon to disguise it under dye and highlights. Now, to save money, I've been coloring my hair myself. It's actually very easy - I buy the "stuff," mix it up, apply it to my roots and gray areas, wait for 25 minutes, shampoo, blow dry, and there I am - no more gray.
Today, for whatever reason, I felt adventurous and decided to apply highlights. The magazine ads and television commercials swear how easy it is for ordinary women like me to create "multi-dimensional color." Well, I tried it and have two words to say about the experience: strand test. I skipped this step.
I can't begin to describe the color my hair turned within minutes of applying the goop. All I can say is that it was an alarming yet interesting hue. And, no, I don't want to be a Betsey Johnson look-alike.
All was not lost, however. After all, I am a cool-headed, resourceful woman. I simply redyed the strange colored strands with my base color. The result? I ended up right where I began with a headful of boring, one-dimensional, espresso-colored tresses.
Does she or doesn't she? Only her hairdresser knows for sure. Yeah, right.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful that others can learn from my mistakes.
I hate my gray hair and have spent lots of time and money at the salon to disguise it under dye and highlights. Now, to save money, I've been coloring my hair myself. It's actually very easy - I buy the "stuff," mix it up, apply it to my roots and gray areas, wait for 25 minutes, shampoo, blow dry, and there I am - no more gray.
Today, for whatever reason, I felt adventurous and decided to apply highlights. The magazine ads and television commercials swear how easy it is for ordinary women like me to create "multi-dimensional color." Well, I tried it and have two words to say about the experience: strand test. I skipped this step.
I can't begin to describe the color my hair turned within minutes of applying the goop. All I can say is that it was an alarming yet interesting hue. And, no, I don't want to be a Betsey Johnson look-alike.
All was not lost, however. After all, I am a cool-headed, resourceful woman. I simply redyed the strange colored strands with my base color. The result? I ended up right where I began with a headful of boring, one-dimensional, espresso-colored tresses.
Does she or doesn't she? Only her hairdresser knows for sure. Yeah, right.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Wednesday, 9 February 2005 - The power of kindness
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for the power of kindness.
It's 3 PM. T and I are walking in the park. An older man approaches us. I make T heel, a sign of respect. The man abruptly stops and asks if T is friendly. I state that T is very friendly and loves people (he's a chocolate Lab after all). The man looks sharply at T, takes a step back, and sternly warns, "You can never tell about dogs like him." As we move aside to let the man by, I assure him that T is a really good boy.
I dread facing the man again, but we need to walk at least one more lap. I imagine that the man had met a really mean chocolate Lab (an oxymoron?) in another life and the terrible memory forever haunts him. But, T as Cujo? I really don't think so.
The man is now about 25 feet away, walking towards us. "T already likes you a lot," I confess as we pass on the right. "Does he owe me money?" the man asks. This question catches me off guard. "What?" I ask. "Does he owe me money?" he repeats. This time, I detect a faint twinkle in the man's eyes. Now I get it. "Not yet!" I reply. Then I laugh while T acknowledges the joke with high-spirited tail wagging.
This morning, the man was in the park again. T and I didn't see him until he yelled to us. I turned around as he stepped from the trail onto the greenbelt. Here's our exchange:
The man: "Hello there!"
Me (smiling): "Good morning. How are you?"
The man: "Fine. You know, you're very lucky that your dog takes you for a walk."
Me (with a laugh): "I know. He's a really good boy."
We wave to each other before going our separate ways. A new friend - probably not. A sign that it's going to be a great day - definitely.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for the power of kindness.
It's 3 PM. T and I are walking in the park. An older man approaches us. I make T heel, a sign of respect. The man abruptly stops and asks if T is friendly. I state that T is very friendly and loves people (he's a chocolate Lab after all). The man looks sharply at T, takes a step back, and sternly warns, "You can never tell about dogs like him." As we move aside to let the man by, I assure him that T is a really good boy.
I dread facing the man again, but we need to walk at least one more lap. I imagine that the man had met a really mean chocolate Lab (an oxymoron?) in another life and the terrible memory forever haunts him. But, T as Cujo? I really don't think so.
The man is now about 25 feet away, walking towards us. "T already likes you a lot," I confess as we pass on the right. "Does he owe me money?" the man asks. This question catches me off guard. "What?" I ask. "Does he owe me money?" he repeats. This time, I detect a faint twinkle in the man's eyes. Now I get it. "Not yet!" I reply. Then I laugh while T acknowledges the joke with high-spirited tail wagging.
This morning, the man was in the park again. T and I didn't see him until he yelled to us. I turned around as he stepped from the trail onto the greenbelt. Here's our exchange:
The man: "Hello there!"
Me (smiling): "Good morning. How are you?"
The man: "Fine. You know, you're very lucky that your dog takes you for a walk."
Me (with a laugh): "I know. He's a really good boy."
We wave to each other before going our separate ways. A new friend - probably not. A sign that it's going to be a great day - definitely.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Tuesday, 8 February 2005 - Carol Kelley
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for having known Carol Kelley.
I scan the local obituaries every Sunday - just in case. Occasionally, I see a familiar name. Last Sunday, I saw Carol's.
Carol Kelley, aged 45, wife, mother and activist, died after a long fight against breast cancer. I knew her in the early 1990s when we were both employed by UTMC. Outside of her career, she was best known for her work with the Susan G. Komen Foundation and bringing the "Race for the Cure" to our community.
I honor Carol Kelley, her life and work. Although we knew each other for only a year or so, she taught me what it means to find one's purpose in life and then pursue it with passion, energy and joy. For me, John Donne's words never rang truer:
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for having known Carol Kelley.
I scan the local obituaries every Sunday - just in case. Occasionally, I see a familiar name. Last Sunday, I saw Carol's.
Carol Kelley, aged 45, wife, mother and activist, died after a long fight against breast cancer. I knew her in the early 1990s when we were both employed by UTMC. Outside of her career, she was best known for her work with the Susan G. Komen Foundation and bringing the "Race for the Cure" to our community.
I honor Carol Kelley, her life and work. Although we knew each other for only a year or so, she taught me what it means to find one's purpose in life and then pursue it with passion, energy and joy. For me, John Donne's words never rang truer:
"No man is an island, entire of itself...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."Thank you, Carol.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Tuesday, 8 February 2005 - Albert Camus quote
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a favorite quote from Albert Camus: In the midst of winter I found within me an invincible summer.
I am in a Camus-like mood as I greet another gray, snowy day. The landscape changed very little overnight. The fog still hangs low, obstructing my view of the mountains. Because I have a low tolerance for the "wet cold," T and I walk just three quick laps around the park before racing home to warm up. I yearn for just a few minutes of pure sunshine.
Today, in the midst of winter, my invincible summer resides in a bowl of roasted butternut squash glazed in brown sugar - healthy comfort food. Preparation is tricky and time consuming since I have to peel the curvaceous squash very carefully. I use my favorite ceramic knife for this task, working slowly and deliberately. The golden flesh reminds me of the fields of sunflowers I saw in France a few summers ago. I smile as I drizzle olive oil and sprinkle salt, cinnamon and dark brown sugar over the mound of cubed squash. I toss everything together and place the dish in the convection oven. After an hour or so of roasting, the squash is done, browned on top and lightly glazed in caramel. With my first taste, summer returns. It's late August 2001, and I am in Paris, enjoying an hour of shopping with my niece, Rebecca.
I regret that many people don't or won't cook from scratch, preferring convenience foods made from a protein source flavored by a long list of chemicals. When we cook, we awaken our creative spirit. As artists in the kitchen, we transform familiar and exotic raw ingredients into sweet or savory concoctions. Unlike some artforms, cooking embraces all of our senses: I touch the stiff dough as I mold walnut-sized pieces into cookies; I hear the marinated skirt steak and chicken breasts sizzle on the grill as we prepare fajitas; I see the perfect feast laid out on my sister's banquet table as we gather to celebrate Thanksgiving; I smell the pan of my fresh tomato pasta sauce laced with roasted garlic and carmelized onions as it emerges from the oven; and I taste everything at least once. For me, fast food is just too fast.
For this blessing, I am very grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for a favorite quote from Albert Camus: In the midst of winter I found within me an invincible summer.
I am in a Camus-like mood as I greet another gray, snowy day. The landscape changed very little overnight. The fog still hangs low, obstructing my view of the mountains. Because I have a low tolerance for the "wet cold," T and I walk just three quick laps around the park before racing home to warm up. I yearn for just a few minutes of pure sunshine.
Today, in the midst of winter, my invincible summer resides in a bowl of roasted butternut squash glazed in brown sugar - healthy comfort food. Preparation is tricky and time consuming since I have to peel the curvaceous squash very carefully. I use my favorite ceramic knife for this task, working slowly and deliberately. The golden flesh reminds me of the fields of sunflowers I saw in France a few summers ago. I smile as I drizzle olive oil and sprinkle salt, cinnamon and dark brown sugar over the mound of cubed squash. I toss everything together and place the dish in the convection oven. After an hour or so of roasting, the squash is done, browned on top and lightly glazed in caramel. With my first taste, summer returns. It's late August 2001, and I am in Paris, enjoying an hour of shopping with my niece, Rebecca.
I regret that many people don't or won't cook from scratch, preferring convenience foods made from a protein source flavored by a long list of chemicals. When we cook, we awaken our creative spirit. As artists in the kitchen, we transform familiar and exotic raw ingredients into sweet or savory concoctions. Unlike some artforms, cooking embraces all of our senses: I touch the stiff dough as I mold walnut-sized pieces into cookies; I hear the marinated skirt steak and chicken breasts sizzle on the grill as we prepare fajitas; I see the perfect feast laid out on my sister's banquet table as we gather to celebrate Thanksgiving; I smell the pan of my fresh tomato pasta sauce laced with roasted garlic and carmelized onions as it emerges from the oven; and I taste everything at least once. For me, fast food is just too fast.
For this blessing, I am very grateful.
Amen.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Monday, 7 February 2005 - A peaceful morning
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a peaceful morning.
I pull the curtains aside and peer out of my studio's window to study the landscape. I see the culvert and city park that lie behind the house, the trail that T and I regularly hike, the houses in the upper neighborhood, and the foothills that form the Front Range.
Observations: A fresh layer of white snow covering asphalt, cement, dirt and grass - no discrimination here. Evergreen trees flocked in their winter best - more heavily on the south-facing side. Deciduous trees with bare branches encased in ice. Shades of gray reminiscent of Ansel Adams' winter portraits of Yosemite. A shroud of fog embracing all. Except for short walks with T, a very good day to work indoors.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for a peaceful morning.
I pull the curtains aside and peer out of my studio's window to study the landscape. I see the culvert and city park that lie behind the house, the trail that T and I regularly hike, the houses in the upper neighborhood, and the foothills that form the Front Range.
Observations: A fresh layer of white snow covering asphalt, cement, dirt and grass - no discrimination here. Evergreen trees flocked in their winter best - more heavily on the south-facing side. Deciduous trees with bare branches encased in ice. Shades of gray reminiscent of Ansel Adams' winter portraits of Yosemite. A shroud of fog embracing all. Except for short walks with T, a very good day to work indoors.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Sunday, 6 February 2005 - Tried and true recipes
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for my collection of tried and true recipes.
My husband is going to a Super Bowl party this afternoon and asked me to make an appetizer. I used to agonize over such requests, spending hours searching the Internet and my cookbooks for the perfect recipe. Now, I can whip something up in a jiffy.
You see, while running Wesley Clark's presidential campaign in our region, I held several fundraisers at our home. For these events, I developed an appetizer and dessert menu that worked for me and my guests. So, when S requested my 7-layer dip, I knew exactly what ingredients to buy and how to assemble another culinary masterpiece!
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for my collection of tried and true recipes.
My husband is going to a Super Bowl party this afternoon and asked me to make an appetizer. I used to agonize over such requests, spending hours searching the Internet and my cookbooks for the perfect recipe. Now, I can whip something up in a jiffy.
You see, while running Wesley Clark's presidential campaign in our region, I held several fundraisers at our home. For these events, I developed an appetizer and dessert menu that worked for me and my guests. So, when S requested my 7-layer dip, I knew exactly what ingredients to buy and how to assemble another culinary masterpiece!
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Saturday, 5 February 2005 - My niece and nephew
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for my niece, R, and nephew, B.
Aunt Kathleen never married. My four sisters and five cousins were her "next generation." We rarely saw her since she lived in Arlington, VA, while we grew up in Los Angeles. I remember her visits and the expectation and excitement they generated. She always applauded my progress towards adulthood. When my husband and I visited her in 1998, she was very pleased to see how well I had "grown up" (I was 44 at the time, enjoying a very rewarding time in my career).
So, with Aunt Kathleen's death on Thursday, I've been thinking about my heirs. Alas, we have a canine child, T, but no human ones. So, I turn to my sister's children, R and B. I hope that when I die, they inherit more than my "things;" that they choose to seek, find and embrace those qualities that made me different from others. As they search their memories of me, I hope they find a giving heart, a creative soul, a passion for work, and a love for the environment.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for my niece, R, and nephew, B.
Aunt Kathleen never married. My four sisters and five cousins were her "next generation." We rarely saw her since she lived in Arlington, VA, while we grew up in Los Angeles. I remember her visits and the expectation and excitement they generated. She always applauded my progress towards adulthood. When my husband and I visited her in 1998, she was very pleased to see how well I had "grown up" (I was 44 at the time, enjoying a very rewarding time in my career).
So, with Aunt Kathleen's death on Thursday, I've been thinking about my heirs. Alas, we have a canine child, T, but no human ones. So, I turn to my sister's children, R and B. I hope that when I die, they inherit more than my "things;" that they choose to seek, find and embrace those qualities that made me different from others. As they search their memories of me, I hope they find a giving heart, a creative soul, a passion for work, and a love for the environment.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Friday, 4 February 2005 - Role models
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for role models.
Yesterday, Aunt Kathleen died. She was my mother's older sister, a marvelous lady whose elegant style, fierce independence and long career greatly influenced my life. A few years ago, I told her that she was one of my role models. This admission surprised her. She had no idea how much her life had shaped mine.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for role models.
Yesterday, Aunt Kathleen died. She was my mother's older sister, a marvelous lady whose elegant style, fierce independence and long career greatly influenced my life. A few years ago, I told her that she was one of my role models. This admission surprised her. She had no idea how much her life had shaped mine.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Thursday, 3 February 2005 - A new sport
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a new sport.
I am taking up boxing. I have always wanted to try this sport because the workouts are intense and incredible, building strength, speed and endurance. Yesterday, my husband bought a really nice heavy bag for half-price. He's going to hang it in the basement so we can train all year. Now, all I need are gloves, a workout plan, and self-restraint (enthusiastic beginners can hurt themselves if they overdo the hitting).
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for a new sport.
I am taking up boxing. I have always wanted to try this sport because the workouts are intense and incredible, building strength, speed and endurance. Yesterday, my husband bought a really nice heavy bag for half-price. He's going to hang it in the basement so we can train all year. Now, all I need are gloves, a workout plan, and self-restraint (enthusiastic beginners can hurt themselves if they overdo the hitting).
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Wednesday, 2 February 2005 - Six more weeks of winter
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for six more weeks of winter (I think).
This morning, amid the pomp and circumstance of Ground Hog's Day, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow before retreating to his burrow. I didn't exactly jump for joy, but if winter means a day like today - sunny with blue skies and snow capped mountains looming over our little valley - then so be it.
Besides, my heart lives in spring year round. And, I suffer from the winter affliction known as "itching to work in the garden" syndrome. Recently, I've been studying the High Country Garden catalogs, identifying all the xeric perennials that tolerate clay soil. I'll scatter wildflower seeds in March and April, but won't plant new additions or transplant old favorites until June 1 when we are almost assured of frost-free days.
My first priority: to expand the front yard garden. Last September, I removed the sod and covered the dirt with newspaper and a very thick layer of pine mulch. I've been threatening to do this for years because of the drought and watering restrictions and finally did the work. Then, I planted at least three dozen xeriscape plants and five dozen bulbs from various sources: local nurseries, catalogs, Kmart, neighbors and friends. The plants have been soundly sleeping all winter under a cozy blanket of mulch and snow.
This spring, I want to build a brick or flagstone path that will lead from the sidewalk up to the front porch and our cheerful, Christmas red door. I've been collecting ideas from various sources including my stash of home improvement magazines and catalogs. First, I'll have to dig out the gnarled juniper stumps that sit in front of the porch and remove the river rock that lines the driveway - tough work that may require S's assistance and brawn. Physical labor doesn't daunt me. I can't wait to break a sweat and get my hands really dirty!
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for six more weeks of winter (I think).
This morning, amid the pomp and circumstance of Ground Hog's Day, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow before retreating to his burrow. I didn't exactly jump for joy, but if winter means a day like today - sunny with blue skies and snow capped mountains looming over our little valley - then so be it.
Besides, my heart lives in spring year round. And, I suffer from the winter affliction known as "itching to work in the garden" syndrome. Recently, I've been studying the High Country Garden catalogs, identifying all the xeric perennials that tolerate clay soil. I'll scatter wildflower seeds in March and April, but won't plant new additions or transplant old favorites until June 1 when we are almost assured of frost-free days.
My first priority: to expand the front yard garden. Last September, I removed the sod and covered the dirt with newspaper and a very thick layer of pine mulch. I've been threatening to do this for years because of the drought and watering restrictions and finally did the work. Then, I planted at least three dozen xeriscape plants and five dozen bulbs from various sources: local nurseries, catalogs, Kmart, neighbors and friends. The plants have been soundly sleeping all winter under a cozy blanket of mulch and snow.
This spring, I want to build a brick or flagstone path that will lead from the sidewalk up to the front porch and our cheerful, Christmas red door. I've been collecting ideas from various sources including my stash of home improvement magazines and catalogs. First, I'll have to dig out the gnarled juniper stumps that sit in front of the porch and remove the river rock that lines the driveway - tough work that may require S's assistance and brawn. Physical labor doesn't daunt me. I can't wait to break a sweat and get my hands really dirty!
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Tuesday, 1 February 2005 - Our extended family
Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for our extended family.
In winter, when the temperature plummets and daylight wanes, so do my spirits. My neighbors encourage me and cheer me on in my various known activities: job hunting, writing, gardening, cooking, knitting, and jewelry making. When I am at the end of my rope, they help pull me up onto safe ground. On the coldest and gloomiest days, we often see each other for just a few minutes while picking-up the newspaper, shoveling snow, taking our dogs for walks, or getting the mail. We catch up on the latest neighborhood news: "Did you hear about so and so?" they ask or "Guess what T did yesterday!" I exclaim. After the brief exchange, we go our separate ways. The encounter, however, brightens the hours and warms my heart for the rest of the day.
In summer, we get together for old fashioned block parties. We gather for a potluck meal, then sit and talk for hours about our families, hopes and dreams. Hayden, our musically talented teenaged neighbor, serenades us on his saxophone. Together, we are friends, neighbors and family, happily celebrating the best of times.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
Today, I am thankful for our extended family.
In winter, when the temperature plummets and daylight wanes, so do my spirits. My neighbors encourage me and cheer me on in my various known activities: job hunting, writing, gardening, cooking, knitting, and jewelry making. When I am at the end of my rope, they help pull me up onto safe ground. On the coldest and gloomiest days, we often see each other for just a few minutes while picking-up the newspaper, shoveling snow, taking our dogs for walks, or getting the mail. We catch up on the latest neighborhood news: "Did you hear about so and so?" they ask or "Guess what T did yesterday!" I exclaim. After the brief exchange, we go our separate ways. The encounter, however, brightens the hours and warms my heart for the rest of the day.
In summer, we get together for old fashioned block parties. We gather for a potluck meal, then sit and talk for hours about our families, hopes and dreams. Hayden, our musically talented teenaged neighbor, serenades us on his saxophone. Together, we are friends, neighbors and family, happily celebrating the best of times.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
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