A quiet corner
Two bald guys
Room for two
Our private giant
All about red
Jiff’s eye view
The next adventure
This very minute…
Do you ever feel like everything is flinging past you at such a fast pace that you can hardly remember what you did yesterday because of how much is going on tomorrow? Do you feel like your days are just a blur?
Well, I do–way too often, actually.
When that happens, I’ve found this little exercise that can help pull you back into the moment. You know…this moment. Not yesterday or tomorrow, but right now…this very minute.
You just take a nice, deep breath and let yourself answer the questions below–as honestly and simply as you can. Pay attention to the first thing that comes into your mind.
It’s usually the truth. Be brave.
Right this minute I am…
feeling–
–a bit sleepy, a good kind of sleepy–like all I need is a teeny, tiny, twenty minute nap and all the energy will come flying back. Naps are good for you…naps are good for you…naps…are…good…for…you. So is chanting.
listening–
–to Lisa Hannigan who soothes me into liquid with her raspy-smooth, Irish ballads and inspires me to get really skinny so I can hang some pretty dresses like hers in my closet—or on my amazing skinny body.
eating–
–a piece of string cheese, one pinch at a time, to make it taste better–and drinking my Kangen water because I’m addicted…and it’s a good thing.
watching–
–very carefully for any itty bitty sign that Spring is indeed coming. I’ll take just about anything right now because on this fine April day, I’m tempted to build a fire in the stove to warm the place up. The smoke signals to Mother Nature coming from the chimney couldn’t hurt either.
plotting–
–to buy some packages of every-color-in-the-world Sweet Pea seeds to plant outside my bedroom window even though they are climbers and I don’t really know what they would climb on exactly. Details…details. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I need color, I tell you!
thinking–
–of a story that I can’t get out of my head, which is usually a sure sign that it needs to be written in the first place. I’m hoping I know someone who can possibly do that…possibly…maybe.
loving–
–the little, precious people around me that tug and pull and whine and grin and spit and giggle and walk and evade and stumble and wave and mimic and kiss and bawl and smile and watch absolutely everything.
hoping–
–that the smaller size jeans in my closet will fit me because I’ve lost 13 pounds since that silly surgery. I know, I know—“that was a BIG appendix!”
I’m afraid that I need a bit of clapping for this one…please.
wishing—
that Peanut Butter Weebles and Cinnamon Pull-aparts and Easter cookies were a smart, healthy, non-fat part of a sensible, balanced, nutritious diet.
Alas…
AND…
–you the most lovely weekend and a very Happy Easter!
In the meantime…
I swear, I’m not dead. I’m using a scribe even now because I’m a bit wiped out. But I will be crawling back to the computer chair any second now because I miss you guys. Thanks for all your sweetness. Enjoy this cute thing while the Lortab kicks back in.
Recovery: Anderson Style
So, she’s home. This, of course is a good thing. Now begins the phase where (hopefully) she gets waited on hand-and-foot, people (me) bring her homemade chicken noodle soup–with super awesome homemade noodles, and we write down all the weird things she says while coming down off the morphine and lortab. Should be entertaining.
We’ve already had some pretty funny references to this trippy YouTube video (warning: it’s completely weird, but pretty strangely funny) that fits the situation rather well.
Jillian has the next few days off so she can get my mom up and walking around every hour or so. Apparently, when they do surgery by scope, they inflate you like a balloon with CO2. So, post-op, they want you to keep your circulation flowing to get the CO2 out of your system so it doesn’t settle anywhere odd and cause problems. Who knew? Also, the walking is important to avoid blood clots.
She’s in good spirits, smiling and cracking jokes until she falls asleep mid-sentence. We’re looking forward to having her back in good health.
But in the meantime, we’ve got the pen and paper out, and maybe a little video camera, just for fun.
April
Family ‘Success’
“Families unite when they do meaningful things together. Children should work together under the leadership of parents. Common employment, even on a part-time basis, is valuable. So is a family garden. Common projects to help others are also desirable. Families may establish a perpetual missionary fund. They can research and write family histories and share them with others. They can organize family reunions. They can educate family members in the basic skills of living, including managing finances, maintaining property, and broadening their general education. The learning of languages is a useful preparation for missionary service and modern life. The teachers of these subjects can be parents or grandparents or other members of the extended family.
“Some may say, ‘But we have no time for that.’ As for time to do what is truly worthwhile, I suggest that many parents will find that they can turn their family on if they will turn their television off. . . .
“President David O. McKay taught:
” ‘The home is the first and most effective place for children to learn the lessons of life: truth, honor, virtue, self-control; the value of education, honest work, and the purpose and privilege of life. Nothing can take the place of home in rearing and teaching children, and no other success can compensate for failure in the home.’—————