Snow Days of Yesteryear

Christine and me

The picture above shows quintessential 1970s winter. My little sister and I are bundled with multiple layers of (largely inefficient) winter garb. This was long before Thinsulate; we were warmed by layers of wool and nylon.

The Gratitude Habit

After the snow.

Last year, I joined a number of friends to take part in the "100 Happy Days" challenge: for each of 100 days, we shared a picture of something for which we were grateful. After the first 100 days, I decided to keep sharing because, well, it just felt good. After a while, I stopped posting pictures, but believe me, I haven't lost the "gratitude habit."

Five Places: In the Green Wood

Komorebi in our summer forest

This is the fifth in my "five places" series based on the question:

If you had to describe your life in five places, which sites would you choose and why?

When we bought our current home, I considered the nearby forest to be a bonus, but not a really significant one. I had no idea how important it would come to be for me, especially after we adopted Kane. It is my escape, a quiet sanctuary.

Reflections on One Hundred Happy Days

The #100happydays project that I, along with several friends, started in January following the death of my friend K.B., has come to a close. I have not yet decided whether I will do a "victory lap," make it a "365 happy days," or move on to something else.

In the meantime, the best way to get the stories behind each of the pictures is to visit my Pinterest board. And here are some collages and a few observations.

Conundrum

Have I mentioned the website that we've created in memory of my friend K.B. who died in January 2014? Actually, it was her husband who got it rolling. He started it as a way of encouraging the sort of generosity that typified K.B.'s life.

But we've run into a bit of a conundrum: how to gather stories about random acts of kindness from people who are too modest to "boast."

Thankful Thursday: Looking Back

My 100 Happy Days board on Pinterest.

It's been many months since I wrote a Thankful Thursday post, partly because last fall I was simply not feeling terribly thankful. But that does not mean that I have not practiced gratitude on a daily basis. In fact, since the losses of Scooter and especially of my friend K.B., making a conscious effort to recognize the joy and beauty in my life has been important and fruitful.

Broken-hearthed

This morning, our fireplace hearth went from this

The way it looked when I woke up on Monday morning.

To this:

The way it looked at 10:00 a.m. on Monday. NOT the way it was supposed to be.

Our hearth is truly broken.

We do not seem to be moving in a forward direction. And I'm trying, really I am, to be more "zen" about life. But it ain't easy, let me tell you.

On top of this fireplace catastrophe-that-will-never-end, I'm having trouble connecting to our work VPN (so working from home is not going as effectively as it ought), and all the dozens of photos I uploaded to my mother's birthday album are corrupted, so I have to start over.

In our parenting course this week, we watched a video by Dr. Marsha Linehan about radical acceptance. While watching the video, it all made perfect sense, though even then we knew that it would be easier said than done.

The principles are:

• Accept reality for what it is. Stop fighting it or denying it.
• Everything has a cause. Not necessarily a good cause or something we like, but something caused this intolerable situation.
• Life can be worth living, even when things suck.

What I feel like doing is stomping my feet and ranting. This sucks. But that, I remind myself, will get me nowhere.

So, following the principles of Radical Acceptance:

• The hearth is broken and will be repaired. Work will get done one way or another, and the photo book will get done eventually - all the work is not lost.
• These things all happened for a number of reasons. Can't change the past, so let it go.
• Life is still good. I have my coffee, a warm house, a full fridge.

Ugh. This is starting to sound a little "Pollyanna," but if it helps me keep my mood up and my blood pressure down, then it's all good, right? 

Thankful Thursday: Baby, it's cold outside!

Emily sitting before the fire, braiding a bracelet.

Holy frijoles, it is COLD outside! As in -30º C/-20º F cold. "Wear snowpants to the bus stop" kind of cold.

So it's particularly nice to come home to a roaring fire and the inviting scent of wood burning. The warmth of the living room has even drawn the older kids away from the chillier sunroom and into the room where Steve and I usually lounge.

We're chatting and sharing updates. It's like something out of Little House on the Prairie! Next thing you know, we'll be playing Backgammon!

We're enjoying the warmth in more ways than one.

My favourite things about Christmas presents.

Christmas morning, sorting the presents!

When I was a kid, I could barely contain the excitement of Christmas morning.

Along with my four brothers and two sisters, I woke before dawn and threw myself upon my Christmas stocking. I honestly do not remember what order (order?) we followed to unwrap gifts, but I remember the absolute glee of the feast of presents.

Deck the Halls!

Today, my daughters came over to help me trim the Christmas tree.

Katie puts my favourite tiny baubles on the tree.

The girls were in a joyful mood and even played and sang along to AC/DC's "Big Balls." Definitely not my kind of holiday music, but we soon switched to my Ella Fitzgerald music. 

Steve played keep-away with the angel.

We decorated the new mantel.

The "ornament" is actually a placecard holder, but it's lost the holder part.

Afterwards, I had the girls pose for a couple of pictures.

And here is the result of their labour.

Seasons

Gee, looking down the recent posts, it seems I've been in a bit of a funk lately. I haven't, actually, though my heart has been stretched of late.

My prodigal daughter is on her way home. (Rejoice!) So today, I'm going to focus on gratitude. 

Our neighbourhood is a counterpane of beautiful colours, and our back yard seems to have confused its seasons.

This is from the planter I bought in June. Isn't this supposed to be a summer flower?

Airing Dirty Laundry

It may come as no surprise to you that I can be a little OCD about laundry, given how (manageably) OCD I am about so many other things in my life. I'm just a wee bit . . .  particular.

As our household has gotten smaller (our two daughters have now moved out), I have finally taken back the chore of doing laundry. During the years when it was one of the children's chores, I tolerated a more "normal" standard of laundering.

Colour me happy.

Photo by Katie Sokoler

If you haven't already discovered Color Me Katie by Katie Sokoler, you need to go visit her blog soon. Katie is a woman who loves life, loves colour, and loves fun. Her apartment in New York is sprinkled with cheery, bright colours like a donut with nonpareils.

When I saw that this month's Gratitude.2012 photo assignment was on the theme of colour, I immediately thought of Katie Sokoler. Her style is not the same as mine, but I love her expression nonetheless.

I love colour, too, so today I'm sharing some of the joy I've found in colour this month.

I've enjoyed watching the crab apples out front ripen and fall.

And I was inspired during a trip to Pier 1 Imports to refresh my dining room linens.

I even drove all over Ottawa to find enough of those napkin rings that we can use them even when Katie and her beau come for dinner. 

And tonight as I washed the strawberries, I paused to snap a picture of the juicy red berries in my bright green colander.

What colours have you found joy in this month?

Think I'll go eat worms.

Nobody likes me.
Everybody hates me.
Think I'll go eat worms . . .

On July 27, I wanted to send a message to just my daughter Emily and her friend Laurel. For some idiotic reason, instead of just sending them a message, here's what I did. Under the status window, there is a little drop-down option to customize who can see your post.

Default setting is "Your friends."

I clicked that arrow and selected, "Customize," which opened this window.

I selected Emily and Laurel from my list of friends.

I saved the changes. I can't remember if I ever actually sent them the message I had drafted. I think I changed my mind.

What I didn't change was that little setting.

For weeks after this, no one commented on my status updates or links or blog posts, except Emily or people I had tagged in my posts. Because those few people were commenting occasionally, and because comments that I made on others' posts or photos also received replies, I just thought that most of my friends had [SOB] better things to do than comment on my posts.

I began to wonder if I had offended everyone. Or perhaps I was just . . . boring.

Then a sweet friend sent me an inbox message.

"Everything ok? You haven't been on FB in a while.

Love,

..."

I replied that I was fine and had been posting as much as usual. [Well, perhaps not quite as much.] She said she couldn't see anything.

When I got home that evening, I scoured my Facebook privacy settings. I sent screen captures to Facebook, thinking that I might somehow have been blocked.

It wasn't until my cursor happened to hover over the little setting at the bottom of the status window that I saw this.

Wait. What?
My posts were still only visible to Emily and Laurel!

D'oh! I hadn't realized that the setting under the status window was a global setting for every single post henceforward! It's kind of a cool idea. You could have a default setting of a small group of best buddies, but open it up more broadly for all your friends.

I changed my setting, and went back and changed it on every post where it was still customized. It went all the way back to July 27. I posted a "Let me know if you can see this" status and was swamped by a bunch of "welcome back" messages. It warmed the cockles of my heart, I tell you.

In the end, I learned a few things.

1. I like Facebook. I enjoy the casual banter, the sharing of news, humour, and insights. I know that many people find it silly and superficial. But it's like many social exchanges - I've been to parties where the conversation bored the bejeebers out of me, and other parties where I really clicked with someone and wanted to spend more time together. You take a little water with the wine, so to speak.
2. Without responses, I felt as if I was on the fringes of a social clique. It was a weird feeling. Kind of like being in high school again, without the benefit of sag-free skin.
3. I don't think the social connection is as artificial or empty as many people disparage it to be. My friend was genuinely concerned for me and reached out to me even though we haven't actually seen each other in two years. It isn't a substitute for offline connection, but when distance prevents "real world" get-togethers, I think social media can help maintain connection. 

What do you think about social media, specifically Facebook? 

A Few of My Favourite Things

Today, I am going on an anti-rant. I am going to wax effusive about some of the things (not the people) that make me happy. Here they are, in no particular order.

1. Sunlight streaming through sheer or lace curtains across a floor. Especially in winter.

2. The weight of an infant slumped in sleep across my chest.

3. The sound of rain on water. (I love to keep our bedroom window open on rainy nights, so we can hear the water on the pool.)

4. The gentle sway of a hammock.

5. Sunsets. Always, but especially on water. 

6. Curtains billowing in the breeze.

7. Tiramisu, of course. (Obviously, these are not in order.)

8. Spooning.

9. Turkey dinner with all the fixings, especially bread stuffing.

10. Cut flowers in bouquets.

11. My garden in bloom.

12. A fire in a fireplace. (No pictures with fire, yet, but this holds the promise of many hearthside glasses of wine to come.)

13. The smell of bread or cookies or turkey baking in the oven. (Step outside, then come back in, just to savour the goodness!)

14. The smell of a baby's head.

15. The motion of a train washboarding over tracks or very light turbulence in flight.

Oh, I could go on and on and on. But I won't. I'm just going to stew in this state of gratitude.

No Regrets

Even with all this laundry, I don't regret being a
stay-at-home mother for more than a decade.

This is actually the fourth in a serendipitous series as I contemplate my health and longevity.

Part I: A Heart Attack Waiting to Happen
Part II: And now what?
Part III: Wynn Anne Versus the Volcano

---

As well as looking ahead and thinking about how I want to spend the next 15 or 30 years, I've looked back at how I've passed my life.

Despite the title of this post, I do have some regrets, of course, including some pretty big ones (like buying or selling a house at the wrong time). Most of my real regrets are about things I've said or done that have hurt other people, sometimes intentionally. If I could time-travel, I would go back and say, "I'm so, so sorry. I was not thinking."

Mostly, though, I am grateful.

[Note: As I wrote these, I felt a distinct sense of apology, like I somehow needed to reassure every one of you that your choices - if you even had them to make - are okay. I'm trying to express gratitude, not to gloat or judge. Please accept these thoughts in that vein.]

I'm glad I married young.

It's definitely not the right choice for everyone, and I was extremely fortunate to marry Stephen specifically. But it wasn't just luck either. With a few exceptions, the boys I dated in high school and university were all really good men - good "husband material." Obviously, there were very good reasons why those relationships crashed and burned, but my point is that I was making relationship choices that set me up for success.

When I fell in love with Steve, we both knew we wanted marriage and children as priorities in our lives. This goes back to my discussion of shared values as being central to our marriage. If my priority, for example, had been to travel the world, then marrying young and (especially) having children young might not have been compatible with that desire.

I'm glad I had children young.

When we finally decided to "start trying," I had difficulty conceiving Katie, our eldest. Being a tad on the melodramatic side, I rode that emotional rollercoaster at full blast. The thought of not having children was heartbreaking. I think that if I had postponed parenthood and then faced naturally diminishing fertility, I would have regretted waiting.

As it is, even if I live less than the 74 years that Statistics Canada estimates I may expect, I will live to see my children grown, probably even know my grandchildren (not just meet them). I like that very much.

I'm glad we had "lots" of children.

It humours us to think that four children is considered a large family, but it is nowadays. We were going to stop at three, not because we didn't want more children but because I was terrified of going through childbirth again. Also, I needed to be on antidepressants and was not willing to be pregnant or breastfeed while taking them.

Watching our children together is a real pleasure. I love how they each bring out different aspects of the other, have conversations with one that they wouldn't with another. I know them better by witnessing that alchemy.

I also enjoy how I am different with each of them. There are versions of Wynn Anne that I might never have known otherwise.

I'm glad I stayed home with my kids for as long as I did.

I relish the memories of curling around Emily during naptime, or letting the kids climb on me while I weed the lawn, of play groups with a roomful of moms and toddlers. Those long, unstructured hours. They are a luxury, and I am so grateful to have had them.

I'm glad I also had a career.

When I finally did start working outside the home, boy, was I ready for it! And I loved it. I thrived - and still do - on the energy level of the workplace, on the mental and social stimulation. I like the financial benefits, too.

---

Despite the old chestnut, I'm willing to bet there actually are people who, on their deathbeds, thought, "I really wish I'd put more into my career." Obviously, I'm not one of them.

Gratitude: Renewal

The winter here's cold and bitter
It's chilled us to the bone
We haven't seen the sun for weeks  
~ Sarah McLachlan, "Full of Grace"

Spring is my favourite season. After the long, grey months of winter, I do a little happy dance when I see the flowers and buds. If you've read any of my blog for the past few months, this comes as no surprise.

The ornamental crab in our front yard.

But this year, for some reason, spring seems to have been particularly slow in coming. Maybe because I've been waiting so impatiently.

The theme for this April's Gratitude Journal was "renewal," and I've been looking for pictures that really show that. Looking at the other photos in the Flickr group, I've seen full-grown flowers and roses from other group members. Meanwhile, I've slipped into our garden every so often and snapped a pic, but none of them really looked truly awakened until I got back from my business trip this week.

While I was gone, Ottawa awoke.

I'm so happy finally to feel like spring is happening here.

What's your favourite season? Why?

By the Sea

I love to be beside your side, beside the sea,
Beside the seaside, by the beautiful sea! 

From the song By the Beautiful Sea, from the musical "For Me and My Gal"

(Harold Atteridge / Harry Carroll) (1914)

Oh, what a beautiful vacation this has been! I did almost no sightseeing, but enjoyed myself nevertheless being a homebody and simply enjoying the views.

After Ottawa's long, grey winter and wet spring, I really enjoyed the gardens around our resort.
Does anyone know what these purple flowers are called? Coneflowers?

Steve went to the beach every day; Brian went most days (where he dug a trench with Steve). I went only twice, but enjoyed it when I did go.

Crystal Cove has a small historic neighbourhood of cottages that are quaint and tidy. (This was not where we were staying, but it was so pretty. I'm sure they cost a tidy sum as they are right on the ocean bluffs.)

Curiously, there was another row of cottages right down on the shore that were falling down from disrepair. I'm guessing that the State was eventually going to demolish them.

This place looks like it gained an addition every time a storm rolled in.

The following may be my favourite photo of the entire trip. At the time I took it, I wasn't sure how it would turn out. The camera's autofocus had a hard time finding anything to focus on, and the colours were all so washed out...

This absolutely captures the peacefulness we feel here.

And tonight, our last night here, Steve and I went down to the Cove for a date. While he parked the car, I snapped some more sunset pictures because, kitschy as they are, I just can't get over sunsets. They always grab me.

The colours never got very strong, because of the clouds, but I watched them fade to grey as they played taps, and I took those moments to remember our fallen.

Finally, we went in for dinner - and a wonderful meal it was!

Not surprisingly, I found myself thinking, "Wouldn't it be wonderful to look at the ocean or a big lake every morning? Maybe we should retire to a house on the water." It's something we've talked about. But, in the end, I think part of what makes this so magical for us is that it is the exception.

---

The following clip is the version of "By the Beautiful Sea" with which I am familiar. It was on one of the kids' favourite videos when they were young. This song runs through my head whenever I go to the ocean.

Comfort

Don't you just want to snuggle in?

The prompt for this month's Gratitude Journal is "comfort." Just about my favourite thing EVER! Clothes, furnishings, decor, travel ... comfort is mantra.

Those pillows in the picture, for example, rest on my bed all day, just waiting for me to plump myself down into them and read a good book. Thank you, pillows. Steve, like many men, doesn't really get the whole throw-pillow thing. He would be quite happy with just the one sleeping pillow. But he loves me, so he puts up with them.

Shoes used to be an exception, but I've started paying more attention to foot comfort as I've aged. The old knees, hips and back are less tolerant than they once were.

Speaking of comfy feet ...

Old, ratty, but so comfy!

These old things keep my feet toasty. The faux fur has long since felted and pilled, but they are like an old friend: there when I want them, wrapping me in comfort.

And for that, I am grateful.