Scenic Byways and Overlooks

I work in a job where multi tasking is a pre-requisite...and if you don't know how you better be quick to learn. Taking information over the phone, listening to officers over the radio channels, eating lunch, which is usually cold, tuning out excess office noise, halfway paying attention to co-workers and supervisors and typing all at the same time. And doing it with profiency. And not missing a beat. And every mother/wife has this as top on her resume. But there is a skill that I have to do on a daily basis that should not be included in multi tasking efforts. And that is operating a two ton motor vehicle to and from where ever........

I find myself digging in my purse (the size of carry on luggage) for a piece of gum, or chapstick, or ibuprofen, or the change that is floating on the bottom of it all. Or juggling my mug of diet Coke back and forth. And sometimes spilling and rescuing my diet Coke. Finding a new CD because the one that's in has been in for the past two weeks. And of course, directing all the traffic around me which seems to be all moronic. It's a wonder I haven't been mistaken for a drunk driver. Maybe I have and just haven't been pulled over yet. So my self improvement project for the up and coming months, years, decades, etc is to be an "in the moment driver". I vow to be attentive to the job at hand. Everything else can wait. I cannot afford to pay the consequences of driving distracted. It is a whole new experience I must say. And with all the object lessons I have had to document over the years I must admit it's been a long time in coming. I have been blessed exceedingly well. And I am thanking the good Lord for that. Here's to Happy Motoring!!

Sometimes three very different but also very alike females living under one tiny roof with one itsy bitsy bathroom, three separate but similiar attitudes and habits, all vying for their own space and boundaries, can some how get on each others nerves. In each others way. Each viewing theirs as top priority. Not quite open to see how fragile ego's can be. Or how close to the surface that can spring out in anger. That was today.

I was getting ready for work. My bedroom was in chaos from a project of 'simplifying' started earlier in the day and no time to finish. And that chaos makes me anxious. And frustrated at myself for not having order, especially when I know it's going to make David the same but times ten. The girls were home from school, tired and hungry and facing homework, which is definately cruel and unusual punishment heaped on by teachers. They were hit with their chore list for the afternoon. They were hit with a nagging to put away their jackets, backpacks, shoes and the don't forget to throw the soda cans away when you're done. Then everyone had a melt down to the 'maximum capacity' (according to Saige). I left for work feeling angry and justified for the anger. Why do they have to be such rebels? Why do they have to argue? Why do I lose self control?

I am driving to work. And it's white knuckled. And I'm getting a knot in my neck. And I am not noticing anything, paying attention to anything, 'seeing' anything on my way. I am living in that mad zone that I created and hung on to back at home. That emotion is carrying over into every aspect of my day. The potential for immense joy and an amazing journey is being missed because I haven't let go of the misery that is now over and done with and the girls have long since abandoned any allegiance to. I am going to miss the lesson and the teacher or the student that could be encountered along the path because I refuse to let go. And at that moment I felt light wash over me, I noticed the pinks of the evening painting the westeren sky. The snow dusted mountains that bounce back the last glints of day. Townsfolk taking in the light chill of the February evenings. And you know, I had the most amazing ending to a not-so -perfect-but- wonderfully magical day. Thanks for the Whisper, God, thanks.

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.

Father's Day

It's Father's Day. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, sometimes it was only yesterday, that daddy was here. He was always a bit larger than life, you know, like John Wayne. Kind of immortal. Except he was. Sitting with my sisters and a brother in the house we all shared with momma and daddy always turns into a "remember" session-and that was always punctuated with a lot of laughter. And daddy was a lot about laughter. And practical jokes. And incessant teasing that sometimes turned one of the sisters to tears. My brother was too much like daddy, from the sound of his voice to the way he chuckles when he thinks he has one over on you. Amazing since daddy was called to heaven to cowboy there when my brother was only 19. But anyway.....
We always list off the things daddy said....and how funny they are today. And how momma sometimes just shakes her head.
**The toilet is not a trash can. (so don't blow your nose and toss the tissue in the toilet...)
**Strike a match! (but if it was him to last use the bathroom it was...)
**Smells like roses!
**Why don't you buy your britches to fit you butt instead of your head?
**If you want attention I'll give you more than you want.
I never remember daddy missing work because he was sick, ever. He always went to work. His hard hat, his lunch box, the smell of the pines, the black dirt, the diesel fuel smell. And weekends were cowboy boots, spurs, cowboy hat, the smell of sagebrush and alfalfa and sometimes cowpies and horse puckey. And he expected everyone else to know how to work. And he taught us what employers want and that he expected us to give an honest days work for an honest days pay. He loved Lawrence Welk, and he loved to watch them dance. He loved Hee Haw, and he chuckled a lot. He watched all the cowboy movies and picked them apart. Like pointing out in the middle of something very interesting that there was a jet stream in the sky, or a power line in the horizon, or tire tracks through the sand. What? Are you kidding? Do you have to ruin it for the rest of us? He watched Gunsmoke and Bonanza. Would remark that the lightning in a summer thunderstorm is not going to stampede a herd of cattle. Man.
Anyway....I could never in a book say it all. Could never do daddy justice. I just sit as I type and smile.....kind of like his half hidden chuckles. I miss that man. I have very blessed to have been borne into the family I have. I'll see him on the other side...he'll probably be whistling "I Love You Truly" and tipping his cowboy hat, he'll look at me and say, "Couldn't you have gotten white sheet to fit your butt instead of your head?" And I'll be home, too.

Live An Exceptional Life by Robin Sharma

I love to read. I would read all day (well, some days) if it were possible. I enjoy all kinds of books. And I relish learning something new. Especially if it is designed, and I accept, to make me a better me. In some fashion or another. Well, I came across this article and it spoke to me, very faintly, and in often interrupted spasms, but I finally got it. And I printed it out. And I carry it with me to remind me that I have some refining to do.....

So I am sharing....

Mr. Sharma asks how one crafts an exceptional life? ...Life goes by in a blink. And too many people live the same year 80 times. To avoid getting to the end and feeling flooded with regret over a live half lived, read, and apply.....(he lists 60 ways---I, not so many) but they are all his.

1. Exercise daily. 2. Get serious about gratitude. 3. Keep a journal. 4. Know the 5 highest priorities of your life. 5. Say no to distractions. 6. Improve your work every single day. 7. Eat less food. 8. Find more heros. 9. Be the most ethical person you know. 10. Don't settle for anything less than excellence. 11. Savor lifes' simplest pleasures. 12. Save 10% of your income. 13. Write thank you letters to those who've helped you. 14. Forgive those who've wronged you. 15. Creat unforgettable moments with those you love. 16. Become stunningly polite. 17. Unplug the tv. 18. Read daily. 19. Avoid the news. 20. Be content with what you have. 21. Be passionate. 22. Never miss a moment to celebrate another. 23. Be patient. 24. Clean up your messes. 25. Be a great teammate. 26. Shift from being busy to achieving results. 27. Speak less. Listen more. 28. Be the best person you know. 29. Make your life matter.

I know I can never attain all of these. I can not even come close to some. But I can make my life, my attitude, my outlook closer to ideal every single day. Which means it's on the opposite end of the teeter-totter than becoming less and less like the woman I want to be. Like the person I want to be. And it would be oh so pleasant if I could leave some positive attributes to my favorite people.....

NOT a Hollywood Starlet......

Some days one can get caught up in the frenzied muddle of images, notions and sometimes shallow beliefs that bombard us. The forever pounding of a "perfect, have it all, do it all, symbolize it all" image of what a woman 'should' be. The perfect hair, the perfect clothes, the perfect size 0 body, the shiniest car, the well behaved/well dressed children, the husband that dotes on his 'princess'...and the perfect career. And, I admit, I get caught up at times only to find myself a little depressed and delusional. Can't keep up. Too tired. Too broken to fix......

It usually takes a good swift kick in the butt to regain my position in this narcissitic society. Yes, me, sometimes.

I am truly happiest, finding the most joy in life, when I remember that I AM a small town country girl from Glendale, Utah. That I grew up learning how to work and to work hard. To give a day and a half's work for a days pay. That running through freshly mown grass in my bare feet and wading in the creek with the same was sheer majesty. Sleeping outside under nothing but the stars, and being awed by the whole thing time after time. I am happiest in these kinds of scenarios.....not the superficial advertised and always unattainable "what I should be". I am a barefoot, simple, forever energetic and curious, blessed with talents that sometimes I shelf for a time. I am a little sister. I am a big sister to my one an only brother. I am a daughter, a grand daughter, a niece, an aunt, a friend, a babysitter. I ride a hand me down bicycle for years. I wear hand me down clothes for the same years. I took piano lessons and practiced thirty long long minutes every day- day in and day out. I have a grandmother that is a wonderful artist and school teacher and proper,and a grandfather that is an always learning, always reading, always studying, always expanding his intellect. And they both shared all of that with me. So I am blessed. I am fortunate. I am the person put here to be me. No one else has all the training possible to be the me that I am. (Not that anyone would trade me places!!) So, I smile, and I think back, and I think forward. I take all that is me and all that I would like to be and meld them together and live each day with all that sunshine in my past. And look ahead to all the sunshine coming up. Mingled of course with snow, and rain, and wind and rain, and clouds and rainbows. And it makes that 'muffin top' and that less than toned abs/butt/legs/arms a little less disgusting. The laugh lines around my eyes and mouth are there because I've had many, many happy hours. And though I wouldn't ask to do them all over, every experience that has been mine has brought me to loftier heights than a physical image could ever compensate for.

So when my grandson says I'm too heavy to go down the slide, that my arm looks like a horses' butt, that I am NOT his mother-she doesn't have that many wrinkles, I can just smile because what I got in return-the love of grandkids and the like-is so well worth it.