Does life feel stale?
Need a breath of fresh air?
I did too.
Here's how I threw open the windows and began again.
You can too!
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I’ve been talking to the TV. Good grief. Typically, my one-sided conversations are in response to … … politicians who are yelling at me – telling me what to believe. … the cable news shows on-air talent sitting on couches telling me how I am supposed to think. … advertisers who spend more time telling me about their drug’s side effects than the help it might offer. I’m just tired of people yelling. People who don’t know me, telling me what to believe, think, and do. You
I learned it first in farming. Farmers and families coming together when the fields were ready for harvest and the rain was coming tomorrow as sure as the sun comes up. Trucks and combines moving across dusty gravel roads in single file and descending on someone’s farm to help them get their crop in. The John Deeres and Massey Fergusons caravanning to the next farm with ears tuned in to weather reports while turning on lights to break through the dusk, and men and women in overalls praying for just a couple
Good heavens. We are so hard on ourselves sometimes, aren’t we? I was driving down Rice Street yesterday and noticed the white light flashing over the intersection ahead, indicating that an emergency vehicle was somewhere in the area. Checking my rear-view mirror, I saw the ambulance lights flashing, coming up fast behind me. I pulled over to the side of the road, up against a curb. (Just like Mr. Taus taught me in driver’s ed.) But there wasn’t enough room to get completely out of the driving
For your consideration … Is life looking a little gray? Try making this little shift … Look for the color. Literally. Look for the colors around you. When we start seeing bright colors, we wake up! Things seem more interesting. Life looks different. The reminder came to me as I sat in the corner chair in mom’s apartment. It had been a long night of ups-and-downs as mom tried to fall asleep. Looking out the window I saw clouds and rain. Gray. My day was scheduled too
Man, oh man. It was one of those nightmares that you just can’t wake up from. That night, mine didn’t include falling off cliffs and people weren’t chasing me with chainsaws. This bad dream seemed more “every day.” In my nightmare that never seemed to end, I was at a conference in a very large convention center. I had gotten separated from my group and I was frantically wandering hallways and stairwells to try and find someone I knew. My purse had been stolen along with my
I love do-overs. If I don’t like what I’m writing, I hit the delete key and “do-over.” If my hair is having a bad day, my brush winds its way through and creates a “do-over.” If my chicken dish doesn’t turn out…well, I just throw that out. Wouldn’t it be freeing if we could “do-over” or throw out some of life’s moments that make us cringe? Stupid decisions we made. Hurtful comments we shared. Hot pants worn. “What on earth were you thinking, girl?” None of us
Dorothy was a hoot! I met her at a women’s retreat. She was wearing a beautiful cobalt blue blouse while she told me about her grandchildren. When I complimented her on her blouse, she said, “Well, my hair color changed this month and I had to find something to match it. I usually mix different hair colors, but this month I ran out of all of them. So, I just mixed what was left of everything I had. Now my hair color changes every day!” And then…she
Have you found yourself in this predicament? In this storyline? I have … We scroll through Instagram. Scroll through Facebook. Sometimes while eating ice cream. Often while eating ice cream. We get lost in our books – the heartbreak, romance, drama, redemption. We are simultaneously repulsed by and captivated by reality TV. (Have mercy!) We dream of homey country kitchens and cute gadgets as we watch the cooking shows. (Have you seen Master Chef Junior? Oh my word. Those ahhhmazing kids can cook with food I’ve never
It is a moment that cannot be erased from my memory bank, even after 45+ years. It was Phy. Ed class back in the 1960’s in the Climax School gymnasium. We had to wear a one-piece navy blue gym uniform with elastic around the waist, elastic around the thighs, and snaps up the front. Absolutely nothing attractive or flattering about it. Really? Are you serious? As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, we had to exercise to the music of … wait for it … the “Chicken Fat”