These are It

Sometimes when I'm sitting on a tiny chair with my one cowboy boot crossed over the other cowboy boot looking out at twenty give or take faces all looking back at me while we discuss what makes writing writing, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. 

 

Sometimes when I'm sitting across from a business owner and we are discovering their direct mail marketing needs and our wheels are turning and the ideas are spinning and the sale is made, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

Sometimes when my camera is in front of my eye and the leaves are golden and twinkly in the fall sun with a family romping around while I say silly things and do silly things to get the moment, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

 

Sometimes while I sit in my blue paisley with hints of coral office chair pecking on my keys and letting the thoughts go from my head down through my fingers to write it out, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

 

Sometimes during the crocheting of a cowl or the crafting to create a rainbow yarn garland or the creating of a piece of wall art or the cooking of a made from completely scratch meal or the party theme planning with every detail aligning, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. 

 
And then because there are so many yes this is its happening, it becomes one hefty balancing act.  And then in the real crazy times where the balance becomes more like an all helter skelter imbalance, I want to desperately give something up.  To change from yes to no.  To do only one thing or maybe even two things.  I lean towards throwing things right off my plate, not just throwing but more like catapulting.  

But then inevitably the flow comes to offset that ebb.  To do list items get crossed off and tasks are finished and events come to a winding end and then I'm so dang happy and full that I think to myself, I can't take one of these things away.  

If I take one of my yes this is its away, then I'm not living with and in the gifts which have been given to me. 

 

I'll keep teaching with my cowboy boots on and my hands flying all around.  I'll keep working with businesses to market their passions.  I'll keep capturing moments for other people because they end up capturing parts of my being as well.  I'll keep making and doing and planning the pretty I want to see in the world around me.
 

The key is balance and priorities.  Knowing when I have to simply say, "No not right now."  And knowing when to say, "Hell yes right now." 
 

Not a Whine Fest

We made it to February folks.  

I am aware it's just another day on the calendar, but can I get an AMEN that this morning maybe, possibly, just might have felt like one step closer to some springy spring?  

Like I had a moment of wanting to wear my heels without socks.  But then I remembered I live in North Dakota and the temperature outside was negative eight.  

So socks I put on and instead wore four shirts. 



But February!  It's here.  

And in years past, February has not been my best friend.  It tends to be the month when I question my entire existence.  Why do I teach?  Why do I live here?  Why do I have curly hair?  Why are my fingernails always breaking in the winter?  Why can I not for the life of me remember to buy light bulbs?  Or decaffeinated tea?  Why do I have to wake up and get dressed every single day?  Why is my middle name Beth?  

I mean really.  February has a nasty little track record in my book.  

But I'm making a vow.  Right here and right now.  This February will not be the whine fest of Februaries past.  There will be no calling Whine-1-1 going on over here.   

Side note.  When turning a month into a plural and it ends in a 'y' does one change the 'y' to an 'i' and add 'es' or does one use an apostrophe even though it doesn't show ownership but because it's a proper noun and probably should be pluralized in the first place does it break all rules then?  Again, this month shows lots of complexities!  

Here's to me figuring out some way to make February fun.  Right now I'm envisioning sewing red and pink and white felt hearts into a garland.  I think that's my first step.

 

Oh and then next I think I'll get me some of those felt balls I see flying around everywhere and make a wreath!  A wreath in February.  Yes that is the ticket.   

Pretty fixes things for me.  I can't fight it.  Instead, I roll.

Another side note.  I'm fairly certain whimsy might be favorite word ever.  Ever.  

 

 

And my grandma's locket.  Also my favorite.  Ever.  I have a lot of favorite evers I've noticed. 

 



Two Never Regrets

There are two things I never regret.  

Waking up early.

Getting my run or muscle in before the day starts.  

Not saying it's always easy though.  This morning was a prime example where I chanted to myself, "I never regret waking up or working out.  I never regret waking up or working out." 

Up I went.    

And like I said, I never regret.

But it is, however, always regrettable to wake up after that few extra minutes of sleep I thought would be so fabulous and know I didn't get a run or muscle in.  The extra sleep never outweighs the feeling of working out.  It just doesn't.  

I also am a believer in rising early even when it's not a work day.  Those are my absolute favorite mornings to wake before the sun, knowing I don't have to bust off to the gym quick and head to work.  Golden are those minutes alone with my thoughts and coffee.  Whether it's reading, crocheting, emptying the dishwasher, starting a load of laundry, organizing the party supply cupboard, or paying bills...it's golden.  The promise of an entire day is waiting and I love to be in it and with it.

This Sunday morning was making pom-pom bookmarks and reading Daring Greatly.  My soul was fed by the time the morning sun came bursting through my windows.   

I couldn't help myself later in the day either, the pull to be creative kept on tugging at me.  As in, I took a few minutes in the afternoon to paint metallic tips on feathers.  Why?  I'm not sure yet.  But I figure you can't really go wrong with shimmer and shine.

Add that to my list of never regrets.  Sparkly anything.       

While we are at it, let's also add I never regret doing a donkey kick in the middle of my living room or in the middle of Target or in the dentist's waiting room...but those are stories for a different day. 

Brene Brown's book Daring Greatly is the sharing of her philosophy towards vulnerability.  So far, it's giving me some insight into working towards my own personal goal of putting myself out there.

That may sound like an oxymoron coming from the girl who really does do donkey kicks around the public.  Let me clarify, putting myself out there in real ways is more the goal in mind.

Because I'm fairly certain the times when we let go and let happen, when we take the leap to do the scary and put our brave face on to tackle the feeling of vulnerability, are also always times we never regret.    

The Key to Sitting

Let me tell you about the time I brought my crocheting along to a Saturday basketball tournament.  

I brought my crocheting along to a Saturday basketball tournament.  

I'm not sure it needs a more detailed explanation.  It's a new nerdy level for me and it was glorious.  I was able to sit on the bleachers and get an entire cowl finished instead of sitting on the bleachers going bonkers from sitting.

Let me tell you about the time I brought my crocheting along to a different Saturday afternoon college football party at my brother and sister-in-law's house.  

I brought my crocheting along to a football party at my brother and sister-in-law's house.  

Again, more explanation seems a bit futile.  

My brother made several comments about who invited the grandma but again, it was glorious.  

I sat through most of the game.  Paid attention?  Probably not.  But still!  

So here's where all this is leading me.  Crocheting is the key to sitting. 

And if I needed any further evidence...a Sunday evening sitting in Karen's living room, her crocheting a chain for her Christmas tree on the loveseat and me crocheting a chain for my Christmas tree on the couch, sealed the deal. 

If you've met Karen and I, you know how ridiculous the thought of us sitting like two little grannies while the boys watched football really is.  She was skeptical at first as I taught her how to do the chain but soon after she had the hang of the looping and lopping she looked over at me, "Alright, this is fun."

I knew she'd get it, being the fellow non-sitter she is.  

I'm a believer.  I'm a bit obsessed because what I do is become a bit obsessed.  Crocheting is a love.  

Because we are on the topic of cell phone pictures...

Wait we weren't on that topic but I'm headed there now.  Some December snapshots.  The cookie exchange invite.  Total heart happy mail.  

Pretty beans for soup.

The first day of December when I went wild.

The first day of December sunrise which started the day of the green and red explosion.  I blame the not planned nail and cup coordination.  It started it all.  

And the Christmas music.  I also blame the Christmas music.

Thursday night homemade bread rising by the fire.

The tree.  Which I swear is not crooked.  

An evening with my niece, the budding artist.

The ballet with Brittany and Stella.  Watching Stella's eyes light up was Christmas spirit at its finest. 

Homemade cupcakes for a girl named Sundie because you can't be having not homemade cupcakes on your birthday.

Morning light is still my all time.

Book club Christmas party.

Frosty.

Gingerbread marshmallows at a Winter ONEderland birthday party.

A wonderful night in with roasted veggies, chicken, and quinoa.  I cook like a girl. 



 Oh this time of year.  As busy as it can be, I sure do want to give it a big ol' squeeze hug.  Or maybe I'll just make it a cowl. 

Now for the Big Picture

The past few weeks have been a whirl wind. 

Now, I feel it winding down.  Sort of.  I've learned with every ebb comes a return of flow.

I'm the type of person who gets wrapped up in the details.  And then processes the big picture later.  It's been a couple weeks since Sister Pister's party.  The glitter and hot glue gun and scrapbook paper and twine and clothespins have been put away.  As have my go go go feelings of being in party planning mode which means now I've moved onto thinking about the reality of why we had that party in the first place.

During the entire duration of the Friday night before the festivities when I was set up at my card table in the garage for crafting central, all I could think about was what was next on the list to get ready.  I was not thinking about the fact a page is turning.  That a moving on is happening.  That the next wave in our family's way of life is here.   

That a shift of change will be coming with friendships.  That it's hard to let go of the past and jump into the future.  That it's imperative to keep friends who matter close even when distance becomes a factor. 

Then on Saturday when it was really go time and my partner in crime cousin named Cheryl and I were in full on get it done flying around with cutting jeans and arranging sunflowers and covering tables and hanging banners and bossing Beaner to fill jars with gravel and sweep off the outside of the house, I was going through in my head how the next morning would go with the final tweaking before actually showering and getting myself ready.  I wasn't thinking about how amazing it is to have a net of family who comes swooping in to help and celebrate and laugh and help some more.  Having that kind of close knit crew to be a part of is a blessing.  Brian, Cheryl, and their two kids go above and beyond.  Every single time.  Thank you is simply not enough.     

On Saturday evening, when the sun poked through the clouds finally and I was out in the yard doing the weed whacking and blowing the winter gunk out of the landscape rocks, I was exhausted.  To the point that all I was thinking about was going home to bed.  I wasn't thinking the next day my sister would be giving her speech to a gym full of people and that the instant she mentioned my name in that speech, tears would roll from my eyes.  So much so I would have to put the camera to my face and start clicking to avoid the truly ugly cry from making its appearance.

On Sunday morning, when it was still early morning dark out and I was in my kitchen dipping marshmallows into melted chocolate and rolling them in crushed up graham crackers to create the look of mini straw bales or cat tales or something rustic to fit the theme, I was worried about how it was taking longer than I planned for and had mild anxiety about hoping for the sun to shine and the wind to not blow.  I wasn't thinking about how there were many times I worried about how Em would turn out.  She was a bit of a flighty free spirit when she was a little sprite.  And she still is a free spirit, but my worries have flown out the window as she is more than just fine.  Kind, hardworking, driven, responsible, gives love, and is loved.           

At daybreak on Sunday morning, when the sun started rising and I was still dipping away, I was more than perturbed at the pesky marshmallows which kept falling down on the stick and was panicking that I was running out of time and might have to go to graduation in my jammies.  I wasn't thinking about how my parents will be missing having kids around their house next fall.  It's been thirty-one years of kid running and entertainment for them.  To say they will miss their "little" is an understatement.

At noon on Sunday, after all of the decorations had been finished and the food had been made and every last detail was accounted for, I was getting ready in the basement with my sister.  I was trying to hurry to get my hair and makeup and outfit all put together and I tore my nylons.  And it quickly turned into a rat race.  I wasn't thinking about how soon my little sister will be hours away and we won't be seeing each other nearly as often.  I wasn't thinking about that I should cherish that half an hour I had with her standing next to me in that bathroom and forget the nylons and the perfect mascara and jewelry and just stop.  Stop to give her a squeeze hug and tell her I'm more than proud of her and I love her to pieces.

Before the ceremony, I was in the lunch room with Em taking whatever pictures she wanted me to.  And my head was finally in the right place.  The place of celebrating the reason for the entire weekend and all of the work and details.  The place of embracing that little stinker and being so happy for who she is on the inside.

The place of being able to slow down and enjoy.  Enjoy moments like this.  When her friend Adam, who she has known since babyhood, swooped in for a surprise kiss.  It was priceless.  They are really the best of friends and always have been.  I used to take them to the circus when they were tiny things and wondered about the people they would become.  I could have hoped back then as I looked at their two bright faces they would someday be the co-Valedictorians of their class and turns out, they did just that.  From circuses and playgrounds to giving the speeches at their high school graduation.  Full circle.  Time is flying.

Right before the ceremony, I stood outside the school entrance and waited.  Waited for my friend Karen.  She drove up and handed me new nylons through the window and said, "There you go!  Now go give 'em hell."  Because she's like that.  She's the friend that will receive your panic text and go to Target right when they open their doors.  She's the friend that will drive twenty-three miles with new nylons.  She's the friend that then says things like "give 'em hell" when there is no real reason for it.  She's the friend that comes to your sister's party with her kids because your family mine as well be hers too.       

With two minutes to spare, I was completely ready.  New nylons included.  I walked up to Em who was standing in line waiting for the Pomp and Circumstance.  I walked up to her and hugged her and whispered in her ear, "I love you.  Give 'em hell on the speech.  And I'm proud of you."

Then it was over.  Sister Pister did her thing and got that diploma.  Then the party started.  And it was perfect.  A perfect big picture from all of those little details.  A perfect end to this chapter.  A perfect beginning to the next one.       

Perfect happiness celebrated indeed.