Archive for the ‘Middle Age’ Category

My younger daughter is encouraging me to continue my education. I am actually considering it. The kids have flown the coop and I am not ready to be put out to pasture quite yet.

So I started slowly exploring it. Not even to complete a degree but because I am so very curious about things. Not calculus. No, not that. Other subjects. 🙂

My first on-line search was a nearby private, liberal arts university. Would be super convenient. I typed in the address to access their website. Was a bit dismayed when I found the description of their program that would suit an adult learner like me.

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I then started poking around the website. The errors in grammar and spelling throughout the site were more than a few.

Now, nobody’s perfect. I totally get that.

But I am allowed to make all the spelling mistakes in the world. Because I am a learner. Not an institute of learning!

Of course, I feel it’s my duty to let them know that their website needs some attention.

Side note: I also let a local long-standing brewery know that their web page needed a spelling correction. And kept the administrator of an author’s Facebook page in the loop when errors glared. Can’t help myself.

If someone has a business or product they want to sell then I think it absolutely needs to be done properly and professional. On-line or not.

It is no different than the receptionist at a Doctor’s office. It helps form the first impression and is a representation of your business. Or how you do business.

Now, let me git bak to explorring mi opchins for furtha edukacation.

 

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In my last posting I mentioned that I would share some “signs” I’ve received. From my father. Looking back I’d have to say the signs have been pretty amazing. Maybe someone thought I needed “spectacular” to be convinced.

June 14th was a lovely day. I took a drive to the cemetery where my father is now resting. Again, it’s me, myself and I. At least as far as my eye can see.

I pulled up near my Dad’s headstone. Did the usual. Greetings and a prayer.

As I wrapped up with a big amen (okay, it was a little silent amen) I turned from the grave and headed toward the car. I said (aloud because no one was near me and I wanted to hear my own voice), “Okay, Patrick, do your stuff. Give me something.”

So, as I am waiting, I take a few steps across the lane to look at other tombstones. Lots of folks from my growing up community reside in this cemetery. I like to read some of the different names or epitaphs. Sometimes pray for those I know. Maybe a parent or grandparent of an old friend or neighbor. I ambled over to one that had the last name “WORK” on it. Never heard that surname.

Dad used to say, “Hard work always pays off.”

But that’s not the sign.

I don’t think.

Anyway, within two minutes of me asking Dad for some magic, I spot something else! It’s about four graves down from the WORK tombstone. I can see that it is partially hidden by the last grave in the row. And it’s moving!

I should be afraid since I am totally alone. Not a person in sight. Could there be someone out of sight? A murderer? Or possibly a street urchin?

There is some type of fanning motion. Back and forth. What on earth? A geisha in the midst of a fan ceremony?

I start toward the grave to investigate. The thing starts to move away from the tombstone! I am hot on its trail. Not a bit afraid.

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Mystery solved.  Tom the turkey just taking things slow on a sunny afternoon.

The turkey spirit animal is a symbol of abundance. It is an encouragement to celebrate your resources that nourish your physical, emotional, and spiritual aspects. The turkey symbolism brings the message of unlocking the richness of your life so that you can appreciate everything.

Thanks, Dad. Miss and love you.

 

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Hello, everyone! I hope everyone is doing just fine!

I am finally sitting down and doing a bit of writing. I CANNOT believe August is nearly gone even though I can see, with my own eyes, the sun setting earlier and earlier every evening.

I have been blessed and have enjoyed the summer months. Had lots of company, entertained, explored the outdoors, rode my bike, walked, read tons, attended plays, spent time with family and sometimes just walked the seashore with the surf creating white noise so I could still my mind.

My only regret is not putting all the thoughts in my head on paper these past few months. Enough to drive a person wacky with the gray matter congestion.

But, hey! No time like the present.

I have to be in the mood to write certain stories so the “Witches Tea” I stumbled upon in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont will have to wait for another day. It’s a good one. So just be patient.

My sister-in-law, Patty, lost her dad in March. So she’s been sharing a lot about being open to signs from those who have passed. She has received signs from both of her parents.

I have many friends who have also gotten signs from loved ones. They say, “Talk to them. Be open.”

I was feeling like, “Everyone else is getting signs from their people. What about me?”

Well, I always felt like I was open to receiving but here’s the thing. I actually received and continue to receive many signs. It didn’t appear that way because it just wasn’t enough for me. I was actually looking for more. I wanted to feel. Viscerally. Not just always look for a double meaning in a rainbow, animal or thunderstorm.

I wanted to feel my father’s presence but I really just wanted my father present. Sadly, the latter is not going to happen.

In a way, I finally realized I am not looking for a sign that my Dad is okay, in heaven and watching over me. Or that he loved me. I know that.

It all boils down to this. I miss him and wish he was still here. Simple as that.

Since my father died the only time I heard his voice was in a dream. It was a few days after he passed.  The last thing I heard before waking up that morning was him sounding very concerned.

He asked me, “Are ya alright? Are ya sick?”

I wasn’t sick. Well, yes, I suppose I was. Heartsick.

It is what it is.

So, I will share one of the many, many signs I’ve received from Patrick, my father. I will write about others in future postings.

I’m wondering if it’s his power or mine.

Here is one.

Every so often I will buzz into the cemetery to pay a quick visit to the ould man.

Last winter, it happened to be on very gray day with white stuff in the forecast. Snowfall was predicted to start in about three hours.

I was the only person in the cemetery. Popped out of the car, checked the headstone and said, “Hi” along with a short prayer.

Then I said, “Okay, Dad, feel free to give me a sign that you hear me. That you see me.”

In that moment, little white flurries appeared out of nowhere. In the spot where I was standing. Not a lot. And not everywhere. Just a few white snowflakes fluttering out of the sky.

Wow.

Then they stopped. As quickly as they started.

Were they even there? Did that even happen?

I went back into my car. Sat a few minutes. Then I got out, stood there and said, “Do it again.”

It happened again. Just a bunch of white flurries. In that same spot.

Sure, snow was in the forecast. Nope, not one witness. No accumulation.

Just a few flakes fluttering on me.

In my spot.

It’s never going to be enough. But it was enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I was walking on the bike path a few months ago with a new friend. It was a brisk walk on a chilly day.

In the distance there was a man walking toward us with something on a leash. And it looked like the thing attached to the leash was wearing some sort of clothing.

I chuckle and say, “Oh my, look at that! It’s a big, old wooly sheep coming our way!”

Ginny laughed and said, “You have quite the imagination, don’t you? Have you written a book yet?”

Ummm, I can barely make hair appointments to get my gray roots covered! A book could get in the way of my commitment and time issues. So, the short answer to that is a no.

As we got a bit closer it became quite clear that the man was walking a greyhound (dog) and it was also wearing a jacket.

Totally looked like a wooly sheep to me. 🙂

Reminded me of another Edna St. Vincent Millay quote. The poet once shared with a friend, “I suffer from inflammation of the imagination!”

That’s the absolute best. Everyone should suffer from this ailment. Even just a little bit.

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend with inflamed imaginations!

 

 

 

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So many books. So little time. Still working on my 100 book challenge!

But it’s all good. I always learn something. Even if it’s not a great read.

Just recently I was reading another book about Edna St. Vincent Millay. I was, once again, reminded of her brilliance. And her care for women and human rights.

There was one quote of hers in this book that touched my heart.

Her beloved mother had just died. A friend was offering an expression of sympathy.

Vincent replied, “But there’s nothing to say. We had a grand time. But it’s a changed world. The presence of the absence is everywhere.”

Touched my heart.

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Woke up to snow on the car this morning. Not much. Just enough to remind a person not to get too cocky when it comes to New England weather.

Here is number 15 on the “We Will Get Through This Cold Spell” list.

Grab a pencil. Or a laptop. And start exploring/researching three places you would like to visit when the weather starts cooperating. Doesn’t have to be a big, expensive trip. Might be in your own backyard. It usually is.

Could be a hike. Or a restaurant. A farm. An ice cream stand. A festival. Wine trail. Antique show. A picnic area. Cheese trail.

Write them down and then post the list where you will see it. A visual reminder of sunny days! And let’s face it, we both know that lists are way better than our memory banks when it comes to actually bringing a thought to life. Getting it done!

I have TONS of things I’d love to do. Places to visit. I hope to get a few of them crossed off my spring/summer list.

Latest addition that I just have to share with you.

It’s a lavender farm. Only a few years old. Looks gorgeous. As lavender fields are wont to do. Located in Connecticut. What a great excuse for Northeast folks to take a day trip and lap up some beauty!

Supporting farmers. Buying local. Soaking up the scent. Being outdoors.

Have a look at Lavender Pond Farm if you are interested. Share with any friends that might also want to put this on their own “To Do” list.

While you are on their site have a look under the tab “About” and read “Our Story.”

A line from a children’s book, “Miss Rumphius” written by Barbara Cooney becomes a part of this family’s journey.

“What have you done to make the world a more beautiful place?” 

A shared favorite of the owner and her mother. Often read and enjoyed. Especially during her Mom’s final days before she succumbed to cancer. After having lived with it for more than a decade. She sounded like a very brave and special lady.

This lavender farm is not just paying homage to the farmer’s memory of her beloved mother. It’s also this family’s way of making the world a more beautiful place.

Totally on my list.

All of it.

 

 

 

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Lucky 13.

It’s now the first of March and winter is still with us. Here in the Northeast we have some of the white stuff on the ground and more in the predicted forecast.

So my list of ways to cope with the long winter continues.

Clean something.

Not just organize. That’s another posting.

But give something a real good going over with a bit of elbow grease. You’ll end up organizing in the process.

I chose my fridge.

Oh, I forgot to mention. Only you will take joy in this completed task. No one else will notice. No one else will care. Ever. At all. But you will. You will notice and you will care.

Back to me. I chose the fridge because it was time. Way past time. After the holidays. After the kids have returned to university. After ignoring it. After giving it a swipe here and there.

A refrigerator is a big to do. The big guns needed. Taking out drawers and such. Scrubbing the fossilized lettuce on the clear plastic bin. Gosh, I think it’s lettuce. But who can really be sure.

It’s a place of hope. For that half used something or other. The promise of what could be.

With just one more recipe. In the near future.

It’s like I imagine the would be thoughts of jalopies resting in a junkyard. “Maybe someone out there will need a used part and come get me. So I’m not a has been.”

That promise never happens. At least in our house.

But what does happen, and I will admit it makes me sad and happy at the same time, is this. Sometimes those hard choices about promises are just taken out of our hands. Decisions made for us. Not by us.

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At first glance it looks to me like one of those fabulous aerial views showing us beautiful little islands and possible volcanoes in the middle of a Habanero salsa.

Or dead field mice.

Oh my gosh! A picture can tell a thousand stories. Like a Rorschach test.

For the record. I have a ton of glass containers so I am not even sure how that can even made it into the fridge. Please don’t judge me. But it did and happily resided there for awhile. A quiet and unassuming neighbor pushed into the background. Not needing any attention. Until it was time to spruce up the neighborhood.

Then it had to go.

I cleaned that fridge until it looked shiny and new. Every drawer pulled out and washed. Dried up puddles from old vegetable goop all gone. I sniffed containers of sour cream and eyeballed the cream cheese packages. If anything looked like it could be a candidate for the next new antibiotic I heaved it.

I will leave off for now.

Secure in the knowledge that you will wisely choose a smaller cleaning project. That you will never accept an invitation to eat at my home. That you wont ever crave my pumpkin pie.

Have a lovely weekend! If it’s snowing be careful on the roads. If it’s not snowing be careful on the roads.

Spring is almost here.

 

 

 

 

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