Yesterday, while contemplating my weekend MIA mode, which caused my to-do list to remain untouched, I set out to get something done. The wheels in my head were spinning out of control - feeling the shame of my Type A personality, strangling my ability to think straight. I've got so much to do, where or… Continue reading Shred your thoughts and you’ll fill a box
Category: Emptying the nest
Evaluating self-made madness of an empty nest
As an empty nester mom, I often sit, looking at the wild yonder of our yard, and wonder if I'm doing the right thing. Right by myself, being patient and letting my life, as it has changed, or evolved, take over and guide me onto the next stages, or if I've gone mad and am… Continue reading Evaluating self-made madness of an empty nest
A movie date with my dog
The best date ever is with a handsome older guy who loves me unconditionally. No offense to my other Mr. in my life. He's an older guy too, and a great catch at that, but he's not like going on a date with my dog. My dog, Copper, he's a charmer and he loves me… Continue reading A movie date with my dog
Isn’t vintage special?
By definition, I'm classified as vintage. Not antique. And not because of my gray hair. That's only officially been completely uncovered sparkles of glitter all over my head for just 2 years. Not the spray can kind either. The real deal. Well, isn't that just special? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=msDcShv_r20 Yeah...it is. It means, I'm old enough to… Continue reading Isn’t vintage special?
An empty nest time traveler
I'm an empty nest time traveler. Yessiree, I am. I can flash through memories in a heartbeat, and be transported back to moments in time that tug damn hard on my heartstrings. Other times, it isn't such a conscious effort. Often times it happens while I'm trying to sleep. I can go from one space… Continue reading An empty nest time traveler
I kid you not, my dear
I grew up as a baby of the baby boomers (...born in 1964, turning 55 this year - so there, you're welcome for me doing the math for you...). My parents were the typical, Midwestern, blue-collar working kind of folk that joined the ranks of others who conceived babies for the boom. And they kicked… Continue reading I kid you not, my dear