on your mark, get set.....

As of late, I have noticed a peculiar pattern I have developed. Quite unheeded at first...kind of like crept upon my subconscious and just took over. I was running a pitcher of water to take outside for my cocker spaniel, LaKota. But I wasn't "running a pitcher of water" , I had myself poised as if ready for the starting pistol to go off, one foot angled and my weight ready to bear. Gosh, what am I in a rush for? What is so important that I am anxiously staged to bolt to my next project/goal?? I've gotta get back to the tv so no one will change my channel?? What? As I came upon this ephiphany I slowed down, relaxed my stance, listened to the water fill the faucet, the birds were dancing in the feeder just outside the window and the melody they sang was priceless. The breeze softly moving the lace curtain and the cool crisp wintery air wrapped around my face. Why have I become so anxious? So out of tune with the joys and wonders of my life that I am prepared to race off to some other monotonous task at hand and never enjoying any of it?

So I have made it a conscious choice to wake up every morning and say "this is the best day, this is the best day ever." And to go about noticing, and feeling, and smelling, and tasting, and experiencing the whole joyous journey that is my life. I am so blessed with a truly rich and satisfying life. Not that I don't have blue days, and really firey ornery days, and everything is an irritant day, but I have a spectacularly amazing life. I just have to find ways to realize, and feel, and enjoy what has been given me. And to revel in this particular spectacular monotous task at hand, and just be thankful for how much God must love me to bless me so greatly.

And on a lighter note, the other day I was getting ready to go to the gym and was putting on my sports bra. Bry was talking to me as I got dressed. She looked up at me and asked, "is that your training bra?" I wanted to tip over laughing but instead I told her, 'Yeah, it is. I'm training to defy gravity." And one day she'll understand.

Saige and Pretty School

Today I watched the little mini school bus putting down the street with it's load of precious cargo. I smiled. My heart smiled. I am immediately taken back to the late 90's and Saige was 3 and 4. And she had taken it upon herself to take the scissors to her bangs. Which were no longer bangs but 1/8" snippets of blonde sticking straight in the air and spiking in whichever direction the shower had decided. Momma had taken the curling iron and shaped and sprayed and styled the best she could. She dressed my Angel-Bugg in her cutest little clothes, hung her tiny back pack on her shoulders and sent her to the bus stop where Ms. Kathy picks her up. She is on her way to Pre-School, Head Start to be specific. But she thought we said 'pretty school' so that is exactly what it has been and exactly where she has been going for the past few months. Pretty School. And Ms. Jean (Tong) is her very most favorite-est person there. She is magnificent. She is awesome. She is her heroine. It is a special bond. Ms. Jean is very special. Now flash forward and Saige is turning 15 and she and Ms. Jean still love each other. They still have saved mementos, they still hug each other when they run into each other, they still make plans to catch up, sometime. There are special people in our lives who come and go, are never constant fixtures, but are always in our hearts, always in our souls, always making a positive difference, somehow. Pretty School. Ms. Jean. Wish every child had one of each.