SaturYAY!

It’s interesting to realize that even for two people who are without adult supervision and making it up every day as they go, the weekends still have their own special rhythm.  Saturday mornings continue to hold the extra buzz of knowing the day is fully ours even before we open our eyes.  The other days too, but the unique freedom of the weekend is imprinted on our psyches after all our years in the work force.

Saturday in good weather is a day for taking the recycle bins to the drop-off station … working in the yard … watching televised sports.  But first comes The Breakfast – Kim’s unmatched rendition of eggs and hash browns, followed by a long soak in the hot-tub and nonstop free-wheeling conversation.

And then Sunday morning dawns. Sundays are full of music and books and walks, and all the conversation and laughter two people can share.   Sundays are about feeling safe and quiet and loved.  Sundays are so sweet that we find ourselves wanting to postpone Monday mornings!   Silly us …

Seek joy!

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What counts …

Whatever your mindset, philosophy, religion or faith, most things can be reduced to this …

The Questions

 

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Speaking of tolerance …

An observation:  In my dotage, my willingness to suffer fools gladly, tolerate deliberate obtuseness, subscribe to another person’s take on truth, and tightly censor myself seems to be slipping away.  I still remember how to do all that … I’m just losing my willing spirit.  Life is too short for endless suffocating banality.

Another observation:  The most annoyingly off-base people seem to possess not a shred of self-doubt.

And another:  It does no good to harbor hurt feelings over the thoughtlessness of other people — they’re simply wrapped up in doing the same thing I am … living life.  Okay, okay … so now we’ve come full circle.  Maybe I should put on my adult-size girlie undies and deal with it.

forget what hurt you

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The critic doesn’t count …

It isn’t the person who doesn’t like me that matters, their voice isn’t what I will listen to.  Instead, I hear the whispers of those who love me … “Carry on.”

(from a wonderful shirttail cousin)

wish i could show you

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When it’s over …

“When it’s over, I want to say:  all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don’t want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”

~Mary Oliver

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Change is what life’s all about …

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/04/12/weekly-photo-challenge-change/

Old House

I can feel the mix of emotions experienced by the farm wife who, through the wonder of a time machine, finds herself standing in front of her former home — the one she watched her raw new husband build board by board, then furnished with the bare necessities of life and swept daily with a crude broom in order to keep the dust to a dull roar.  I see her sending her stoic farmer for the mid-wife and birthing their babies in the same bed where they were made out of love and awkwardness-turned-to-familiarity.  I see her well-tended garden gone to ruin and reclaimed by the elements.  Her disbelief.  Her chagrin.  The ache in her heart.  The incomprehensible change that overtook it all once she was out of the picture.

I see the change in my own life, moving from painful to sweet, that has brought me to the man who pulls off the highway, drives down a dirt road, and treks across a wheat field because he spots just the photograph I need for my blog.

I try to open-heartedly embrace change since I learned years ago that it’s what life’s all about.  Once you get that far, it all becomes infinitely simpler to deal with.

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Look for the helpers …

Look for the helpers

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No Fear!

No Fear

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The world would be so much nicer …

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I wouldn’t lie to you …

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Striking matadors could result in a lot of bull for Spain

Striking matadors could result in a lot of bull for Spain.

Ned’s humor suits me just fine and I laugh at nearly everything he writes.  Funny guy.

Surgical Fun With Hobos

Surgical Fun With Hobos.

Fathead Follies rarely disappoints in the humor department.  Any parent will relate (and cringe) upon reading this story.

You’re On Your Own, Pal

You’re On Your Own, Pal.

I love Transman and his story … and this one touched my heart in a unique way.  It deserves to be Pressed.

My 100th Post

The following post is in celebration of my time on WordPress — one hundred posts since January, 2013.  My husband has retired a bit early, which is another reason for celebration, and he’s regaining his health and color more every day — the best reason for celebrating that I can think of.  Here’s to life and health!

Things I love about my life …

  • Slowly waking up, falling asleep again, rolling over, finally letting my eyes stay open.
  • Talking in bed, then spacing off in front of my computer while sweetums makes coffee.
  • Soaking in the hot-tub and talking, talking, talking.
  • Enjoying whatever the cook is in the mood to make for breakfast.
  • Spending the morning in our jammies, writing at our computers, sending each other emails … me upstairs, him in his downstairs studio … “This is funny.”  “You’ll like this.”  “Incredible musician – watch this clip!”
  • Meeting in the kitchen for soup or sandwiches or salad or leftovers.  Or maybe hopping in the car and sharing lunch out somewhere.
  • Afternoons spent doing housework or yardwork – sweet feeling of accomplishment.
  • Going for walks together, racking up steps on my Fitbit.
  • Healthy dinners, cooked with love.  A glass of wine served with conversation.  Reading side by side, watching TV, falling asleep, drifting back to bed for snuggles and more conversation.
  • Slowly waking up …

 

Judy thinks Kim is the best at spooning.

Judy thinks Kim is the best at spooning.

 

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