My Dear, let go. I've got you.

There are times in our lives when that which we have clung to for awhile--hours, days, weeks, years, decades, generations even--no longer serves us. And it is time to let go.

It can be scary to let go. We may think we'll lose our roots and fall. It can become paralyzing to let go of the comfort to which we've grown accustomed. And then, one day, we can hold on no longer. A big wind comes and forces us to let go. We do, in fact, lose our roots. We do fall. We do enter a new phase and evolution of life. And right there beside us is someone to lean on. Someone to catch us. Someone to say, "My dear, let go. I've got you. Let go."

Burn the Good Candles and Avoid the Piles

the last 18 months or so have been eye opening and life changing.

I have gone through another stage of evolution and metamorphosis brought on, in large part, by a catastrophic family event. We all survived. Though not fully intact, we at least are all still breathing.

A few lessons I've learned, relearned, or had solidified:

Burn the Good Candles: You know, the expensive ones you either splurge on or are given as gifts. The ones that burn all the way down, throwing off an ambient twinkle of light and casting a delicious aroma throughout the room? Yea, that one. Burn it. In the morning, afternoon, evening, or any combination thereof. burn that sucker cause it's meant to enjoy. I wonder, in essence, if by delaying the burning of the candle, we're really denying (or delaying?) our own happiness and delight. I've heard people say you can't know happiness without knowing sorrow, I disagree. Burn the candle. enjoy the light and aroma and know you deserve to be cloaked in happiness any damn time you want.

Avoid the "piles": by not starting them: I am not all the way there yet on this one, so it's a lesson I am still learning. I have spent several HOURS this week just decluttering my bedroom and my kitchen hutch. No, I don't think you understand, like the piles grew piles which grew piles. I could barely walk in my bedroom and only part of my bed was actually accessible. Yes, that bad. It got overwhelming to me, so I just piled more $hit on the already-overwhelming piles and then it became paralyzing. I didn't know where to start. I couldn't put my clothes away because the piles were blocking my dresser. But I couldn't move the piles blocking my dresser because I had no place to move them to without causing the ultimate collapse of the clothes which were precariously balanced on the piles...you see where this is going. So, just don't start the piles to begin with and they won't become overwhelming to the point of paralyzing. SO much easier said than done, and I am still practicing this. In the metaphoric analysis of this, I wonder what the piles could represent? I'll have to ponder on this...or sometimes a pile is just a pile.

I am not God: When I am doing school tours with prospective students, I explain we spend many hours on pathologies (what can go wrong w/ the body) and hands on body work (how we, as LMTs can address the pathologies) and I highlight that I didn't say, "fix" them. I elaborate that we don't teach the God-Complex so often prevalent in the field of body work. Isn't it odd that I can easily differentiate what I can and cannot do in bodywork, but not in emotional or spiritual work with my clients, friends, and family. In my bodywork practice, I am clear in saying (to myself and my clients), "I cannot heal nor fix you. We can, however, work together to create a space where healing may occur." So no, I am not God, I cannot save, fix, nor heal you...but let's have coffee, maybe together we can create a space where healing can occur?

I cannot touch without being touched; heal without being healed: See above. I cannot do to you without also doing to me. In my pursuit of providing balance in mind, body, and soul to my clients I am also creating space for that to occur within me. In all truth, I cannot say hashtag nailedit just yet, but together, we are working on it--for you and for me.

The Act of Meditation: is just that--an act. Or you can take it further and make it an actION. You can go through the motions just like an actor does, hit play on that fabulous meditation app and feel good that you've listened to a gentle rainstorm while guided into peaceful bliss...OR you can use that calm, soothing voice as a jumping off point for the ACTION to follow. Meditation must extend beyond the 5, 10, 20 minutes you spend engaged in it; it must transfer into the actions of my life. Am I returning to my centering breath when things get heated? Am I reminding myself to flow like water, or float like a careless leaf in the wind? Am I reminding myself to sit with my feet firmly planted on the floor to reground my body and thoughts? So the act of meditation is merely an act I go through...until I decide to make it an action.

So these are a few of my random thoughts on this chilly morning. My house is waking up, the candle is lit, and I am turning the act of my morning meditation into an action. I hope you'll join me on this messy journey...until next time.

Beauty & ugliness; life & death

Sunday's hike was a beautiful one. It was all about death; about life.

Life and death. Beauty and ugliness. 

Those two sentences can be at odds with one another, but really they're not. This season (Autumn in general, not this specific year) for me represents a lot of death, endings, transitions. It represents a lot of sadness, grief, and loss. It was October 24th that I lost my dad. Five days later Stacey, my landlady, wrongfully evicted me from the house I'd been renting. And my grandmother began the final stage of her battle against cancer and died on January 15th. That was all in one year! So to say this time of year holds a lot of ugly for me is an understatement. 

Through the last seven years, however, I've found the beauty. 

My dad died and birthed in me a new direction in life. My landlady evicted me, freeing my homing situation up to be able to move in with my grandma to take care of her in her home, allowing her to die here (I have since bought the same house and made it my home). My grandmother died with my mom and me on each side of her holding her hand as she made her last exhalation. 

Now, I can see the beauty. Were it not for the death of that season of my life, I would not know the beauty of today's. 

And so that is what I chose to focus on in my hike. Surrounded by death and dormancy, I sought out the beauty. All around me, it was bountiful. From the trail runners taking their muddy shoes off in the parking lot to the beautiful cardinal who guided me into the forest. The pond in the hollow, teeming with fish gave beautiful backdrop to the leaves which had fallen and, previously, obscured the view. A few purple flowers remained vibrant, defying the brown, decaying leaves around them. And, much to my delight, I found an acorn (or tree seed of some sort) on a rich patch of green moss with life bursting forth as it had begun to sprout.  

Sometimes life can hold up death; let it go.

because sometimes, only in death can life begin

I entered the forest a little melancholy and reluctant, I don't usually like this time of year for all that it represents and the long, dark, cold days ahead. But I emerged from the drag forest with a new perspective and outlook. I chose to focus on finding glimpses of life and beauty, even amidst the death and ugly of the season. Lo and behold, I found it. 

I wonder how this lesson could be applied to other aspects of my life. Something to ponder, for sure. 

Give from the Heart, Not the Ego

It is the time of year for lots of charitable giving. There are various trees with children’s names on them, schools with wish lists, foster care agencies with children in care. . . and they’ll tell you exactly what they want for Christmas. Purchase that list. Charity is about serving others, not yourself or your ego so get the gifts on the list. If you want to do additional, fine, purchase extra stuff you “think” they would *LOVE*, but only after you’ve purchased what they’ve requested. They know what they want, you don’t. it’s not your time to make a political statement—if a girl wants a barbie and pink sparkly shoes, gift her those; if she wants Legos and Hotwheels get her those. Same for a boy—if he wants transformer shoes and a pocketknife, get him those; if he wants sparkly shoes and a barbie, get him those. This is not about you, it’s about the child and helping their family.


Let me speak from experience: Years ago, we put together a “Christmas Wish List” for a generous individual to help provide my then foster son (now adopted). We worked together to thoughtfully put together the wish list for him. One thing he included were specific Diary of a Wimpy Kid movies. We specifically put NOT THE BOOKS—DVDs ONLY. And what did they end up gifting us? All of the books. What did we already have copies of? All of the books, which he had read at least twice already. We also put NO CLOTHES as my son has always had his own unique style, a dark style some may say. What’d we get? Literally grranimals matching tops/bottoms from Target that I took one look at, knew he’d never wear them, and donated them to another person who asked for that type of clothing.


I know we all really want to help this, and every, holiday season. Please be mindful of the reason for helping is to make someone else’s life better and more enriched, not your own. If you are uncomfortable purchasing a specific item, you can skip it—usually the lists have several items in varying price ranges and few families “expect” you to purchase the entire list. In fact, few families “expect” anything, we’re just grateful to have any support. Please do not read this as any type of dissuasion from helping, in fact, it is an encouragement to help, and a little review on what that may look like. If you use a small agency (like a local foster care agency or school), why not call them and ask for clarification? Our Foster Care Specialist could’ve told the family my son already had every book, that’s why we were asking for the movies specifically. I assure you, each family is super appreciative of the help you’re offering, and by generously securing the items on the list—you’re truly making someone’s Christmas more joyful, you may even find YOUR Christmas more joyful in ways you can’t even imagine. . . Just think of that child opening the transformer toy, even though they’re a girl. Or the boy opening a beginner sewing machine, even though they’re a boy. In that moment, they will know they are supported, loved, embraced and valued by the community—by you. That oughtta lift even the Scroogiest of all Scrooges’ spirits this holiday season.



So give, give generously, give often, give from your heart and give what’s on the list as you’re able.

Monday Meals/Dishin' w/ Donald

I love to cook. I love to experiment. And I love to share my experiences.

To that end, I am going to do a series called "Monday Meals" or "Dishin' with Donald" today happens to both be Monday and sharing my experience with a recent dish...double score!

The recent Instant Pot craze has come over me! On Amazon Prime Day (mental note: create and celebrate Optimus Prime Day), the IP was offered at a price I could not resist. My long beloved crock pot had broken (apparently you cannot put a glass lid 1" from a gas burner or else...honey, glass shards shot from here to the heavens!) and I really needed some options other than the oven to cook my meals. And y'all already know I love me a slow cooked roast, brings out the southern gent in me! So many memories walking into the house from a long day of school, a several block walk in the freezing temps (uphill, in the snow, both ways) but I digress. . . suffice it to say, I bought the Instant Pot and was so excited.

Since then, my excitement has been squelched. I'm just not in love with it for, well, really anything except making broth to be honest. People tell me I need to keep playing with it and experimenting so that brings me to today's Dishin' with Donald.

One of my favorite cold-weather, budget meals is bean soup. I can make a $2 bag of beans turn into a week's worth of meals! With a few additions each day, the meal turns into a different dish each night (think: onions, garlic, tomatoes, bell peppers, carrots, celery, jalapenos...). I scoured the wonderful world wide web for a solid looking recipe, sent some messages to friends who are IP devotees and set out to make my pot of beans. "They" told me I could go from dry beans to an edible pot of beans in an hour's time. While they were not incorrect, the beans lacked a level of depth and complexity an all-day slow-simmer infuses. The recipe I (mostly) followed is included here for your consideration.

First I saute'd some onions, carrot, celery, garlic and bell peppers using the saute function. Then I added my 2 cups of dry beans along with 8 cups of water. I set the IP to "Pressure Cook" for 30 minutes as the recipe called for. After about 20 minutes, it finally got to pressure and began cooking. YES!!! But there was no delicious aroma wafting through the house. Oh well, if it can save me time I can forsake the aromatic delights! After the 30 min. pressure timer went off I did a Natural Release, which took another 30-45 minutes. I got a little aroma, but not much. I left it on warm for another 10 minutes while the boys played XBox. I went to taste and...the beans were not cooked thoroughly nor were they very tasty. I added several more shakes of spices and set back to 10 more min. on pressure. It only took about 5-10 min to get to pressure, then cooked for the 10...after 45 minutes of Natural Release, I did the Quick Release because we were getting H-A-N-G-R-Y !

upon opening the lid, I knew it was not the same. The liquid was quite watery and not at all the delicious thick nectar I'd come to expect with a pot of beans. The flavor of the beans was...ok, at best. It left me wanting more and feeling like each spoonful left me slightly cheated based on what I *knew* I had put in the pot and the flavor I should reasonably expect (I've been making beans for 20+ years, I know how to cook them and what to expect flavor-wise). The texture of the beans was the only highlight of the dish. It was perfect! not to mushy and not too firm, just right, as Goldilocks might say.

This Dish will earn only two out of five stars for:
Texture: 5
Ease: 4
Speed/Time: 3.5
Taste: 1
Expectations: 1

In summary, maybe some things just aren't meant to be Instant. How could an hour in the IP possibly compare to six hours on the stove top, the steam and aroma being slowly released into the air, buildint excitement and anticipation. Stirring every hour or so to avoid scorching and little taste tests along the way to whet the appetite. Perhaps, like friendship, some dishes are meant to be developed over extended periods of time and the nuances slowly coming together. I believe I will toss the remaining beans into my old pot and simmer for a few hours today, if only to reacquaint old friends.

Next up: Baked Potatoes in the IP!

Click here for recipe

Best Parenting Advice EVER

Before becoming a Licensed Massage Therapist, I was a youth worker. I worked with thousands of youth a year. Sometimes these programs included a parental component as well. And I doled out the best. advice. ever. to those parents sitting in the room. I shamed the ones who could not make it, blaming their lack of priority on their child...sometimes I even verbalized this shame. I mean, it's your child for crying out loud, you mean to tell me you can't give up an hour of your week!?


And now I am a parent. And I have only one piece of advice to give to parents any longer:

Parent the child you have, in the moment you have.

That's it. One single piece of advice is all I've got. I used to teach parenting workshops to improve communication with your child, dole out suggestions on how to engage better with your child, and I guess I've got some thoughts on those components of parenting today. But I have no advice, only what has worked (and in some cases, what has NOT worked) for me in my messy, little family.

In fact, I wish I could go back to every single one of those parents and apologize and say, "forgive me mothers and fathers, for I knew not what I was doing...not. a. single. clue." Because the fact is, some of those parents couldn't make it to the workshop, and already felt bad about it. Some of those parents were already engaged in wonderful communication(s) with their child and didn't even use a single "family building activity" that I designed or selected for them. I go back and read those manuals and think, "my God, what beautiful writing!" and also "My God, what awful approach!" I mean, sure, as parents we could all use some refreshers, breaks, new ideas, and creative solutions to foster better relationship with our child(ren), but the last thing we need is advice. Suggestions, sure. Advice, please no.

So to all the parents out there, especially my fellow single parents: You are doing a great job! Even when you think you're not, you are! And if you're not YOU have it in you to do great! Dig deep and find that endless well of love inside you to follow my one single piece of parenting advice:

Parent the child you have, in the moment you have. Nobody knows how to do that better than you.

We live in all of our truths, unapologetic, messy, fully. 

A Musical Reflection

Another prompt from my upcoming book on Journaling for your Mind, Body, & Soul. 

Put your favorite music on and listen for five uninterrupted minutes. Just enjoy the music and your time with it. Enjoy in whatever way that means for you. Dance with it. Sing with it. Sit quietly and absorb it. Experience memories, emotions and thoughts with it. Enjoy without limitations.

Now turn the music off and let it simply be inside you for the next however long it takes to complete the following prompts:

What music were you listening to?

Has your favorite band, style or genre changed over the years, remained the same, or a little of both?

If you were to select a song to represent the different components of you, what song would you select for:

Your mind?

Your body?

Your soul?

Your birth music?

Your death music?



What influenced the musical selections above? How are they similar/different?


If you could select only one song that would precede your entry into every room, to announce you essentially, what song would you select? Would it be different for different “crowds” or populations of people? Why do you feel this song represents you?

A Pebble in my Shoe

Years ago, I was running some race, a quarter marathon I believe, and this was my experience:

Miles 4-6 were downhill physically and so I thought, "this is gonna be an EASY finish." Then I got a pebble in my shoe. At first, it was REALLY annoying and bordered painful. I almost stopped to get it out, risking a personal record finish time. Then it kind of slipped away and became less annoying, but still very much present. As I often do while running, I began to reflect on how this run may be a metaphor for some aspect(s) of my life; I pondered...what are the pebbles of my life?

For the next two miles, as I begrudged this pebble, I reflected on its meaning in my life, on a grander scale. And today, I invite you to spend some time thinking:

What are the pebbles in your life? Are they nagging, gnawing, making your life unpleasant? Are they less pleasant at certain times than others, but still very much present? Do you want to get rid of them entirely? Adjust so they’re less annoying? How do you accomplish this? Or do you want to just run through life with them and persist despite?

What lessons could the pebbles bring to your life?

Majestic Autumn

I love Autumn.

And not just for the deliciousness of the season...I love REAL pumpkin spice everything (not that fake chemical/lab-created crap y'all call Pumpkin Spice Lattes), I LOVE homemade applesauce and apple butter. Baking anything on a crisp, Autumn morning just seems right.

Beyond that, I love what the season represents. To many, it represents a time of death and entering a long period of death...we don't see many signs of life in the winter, but they're there, I assure you! I love that during the first stages of fall, trees automatically release Abcisic Acid (ABA) that triggers the leaves to fall off. First, of course, they begin to lose that vibrant green color giving us a glorious show of reds, oranges, and browns. The reason for this is trees do not need the food/energy created through the leaves. So they just drop them. They literally drop the leaves which no longer serve them. Except the leaves DO continue to serve...as they break down at the trunk of the tree, the leaves enrich the soil, creating rich soil for the tree and other plants to thrive in.

And then, they go dormant. They withstand some tough elements, fully exposed and naked. They can become ice covered, snow covered, heat covered. They are exposed to biting winds which can threaten to break their tender branches. But they stand tall and strong (in most cases), knowing they are but dormant versions of their full being. They are merely resting up for a stunning display of buds and colors in a few month's time.

And then, somehow by the miracle of Nature, the buds return. And the flowers follow the buds. Before you know it, as the days begin to heat up, the trees are fully covered in their gorgeous, bright green leaves; providing food for the tree and cooling shade for us humans.

I love that Mother Nature just does this automatically.

And I love that Mother gives us this reminder to do the same in our own lives. We must each go through periods of, metaphorically speaking, releasing ABA to trigger an automatic dropping of that which no longer serves us. We must slow down our food and energy creation/consumption in order to rest up. We must tend to ourselves, sometimes silently, in order to burst forth with color and be able to serve others later. We must remind ourselves that our periods of Autumn and Winter are more than just periods of death, they are periods of our lives which allow rebirth to occur!

These times of our lives, and these trees in our lives, are truly Majestic and should be honored as such. They also beg of us to ask the important questions: What needs to be shed (what/who is no longer serving us), what do we need to shed ourselves away from (who/what are we no longer serving?) What do we need to do to slow it down? What will our rebirth look like? Who will we serve during our next phase? ahh yes, my friends, I love this season for what it brings us outside and the change it can inspire inside. Majestic.

Simple Self Care

Simple Tips for Self Care

Those of you who have followed my blog for awhile know I believe in self-care. I also believe self -care comes in many forms. Some people find it in meditation while others enjoy yoga, some love to go for a run and others like to veg out to their favorite show on tv.

The last few weeks have been difficult for America. Regardless where you stand on geo-political issues, it's been a rough bit of time for us, hasn't it? So I implore you, for the sake of our country's future and (more importantly) your own health PLEASE engage in some form(s) of self-care soon. Below are a few ideas to get you started, please feel free to add your own as a comment.

• Take time for just your, to be alone and decompress/process

• Visit with an old friend or family member that makes you laugh

• Enjoy that big ol slice of chocolate cake

• Fix a delicious fruit smoothie and enjoy it leisurely

• Spend some time in meditation

• Go for a jog, run, or walk

• Play on a playground, swinging and laughing like a child

• Color, craft, or other form of creation

• Take a hot bath

• Sleep in 15 minutes longer than usual

• Unplug from social media

• Look in the mirror and tell yourself you're worth it

For me, I always turn to Mother Nature when I need some self care. Tomorrow we will be taking a short hike. Being in Nature always grounds me. Enjoy your moment(s) of self-care and please know you are worthy and deserving of living a happy, healthy, and whole life.

Sweet Victory!

Life has been a challenge lately.

It's hard. Life. Parenting. Solo-preneuring. Processing. Living. It's all so very hard.

And we often make it harder on ourselves. This week, I am launching a new paradigm shift for myself and focusing on small victories.

When my son and I first became a family, I chunked the day up to help with behavior modification and positive reinforcement. It first it was literally in like tiny chunks: From shower to eating breakfast, from breakfast to leaving the house for school, from leaving the house for school to arriving at school. From picking up after school to home, then on to homework, then dinner, then post dinner. etc. About 10 chunks, believe it or not! Slowly chunks of time became longer and the behavior more appropriate.

So I am doing the same with myself. I am chunking my day into thirds: Morning, day time, evening. And for each, I am searching for a personal victory. This is a victory I am experiencing and responsible for, not a victory I am celebrating alongside someone else.

So yesterday my victories included: resisting the pumpkin roll at the coffee shop; I took a self care nap after I picked up my son from school; I overcame the desire to be alone in favor of cuddling w/ my son (and cat and dog) for a bit before bed.

This morning, my victory is: I set my alarm to get up and go for a nice run w/ my dear friend Nicole. Even when I wanted to just stay in bed. Or read. Or Facebook. Or anything else, really.

So what about you? What is your victory for this morning? Even if it is "just" getting out of bed--celebrate it. Some days getting out of bed IS a victory unto itself!

Inhale it all

Today, I invite you to sit and experience your full self. 

What is it you need out of this moment? 

What is it you are contributing to this moment? 

How is your back aligned? Your hips? 

How do your feet articulate with the ground? 

Are your breaths deep and full, or shallow and partial? 

Did you judge yourself on any of the responses to the above questions? Or any others that may have come to mind? 

Release it all. Release all expectations of the future. Release your stress. Release your tension. Release your judgement. Release it all out into the Universe. Spirit created you and Spirit can take it all, if you just release it. 

on the next inhale, breathe in that which the Spirit wants to give to you: joy, happiness, stress-free living. Breathe it all in. Take it. Drink from it. Consume it. It's all your's, if you want it. Just inhale it all. 

My House Felt Like a Home

Fall is always a tricky time for me. I love it. I loath it. It is during the Autumnal months when I most often experience growth personally so it resonates with me. It is a time when I reflect as I enter a new year of my life during the peak of fall. It is when the campfires in the backyard become a regular thing and houses become warm homes filled with the wafting scents of applesauce simmering in the crockpot, a big 'ol pot of chili on the stove top, and cornbread in the oven. It is when the shelves are full of the summer's harvest, safely nestled in their perfectly sealed jars for winter consumption. It is when I get to pull the old quilts out of their cedar lined drawers (ok, I don't actually have cedar lined drawers, but in my mind I do...however quilts are plentiful in this home). Hiking becomes enjoyable with the colors striking and vistas breathtaking.

And it's also the time of year when I lost my dad and moved in with my grandmother to help her die at peace in her home, now my home.

so it is tricky to navigate each year, but each year I am able to do so with a little more finesse. Grief does not know a timeline nor a season for sure, but Autumn is just tricky.

Today, I had some reflections I'd like to share:
I posted that my house smelled and felt like a home today. It felt cozy. It was not clean, but it was safe. My son was gleefully hosting a friend who is becoming more and more part of our extended family. It just felt like a home, not just a house.

When the aforementioned child was told, "it's time to come to the table, dinner's read." He looked at me as if I were an alien. And looked at my son like, "forreal?" So I explained we do this crazy thing called eating together at the table every morning and every evening. So he obliged, without any further hesitation. Apparently, despite telling me chili is fine, he does not like chili. But he ate several pieces of cornbread. And we talked. All three of us. We chatted. Laughed. Shared. Heard. We were a family. Even though none of us are blood related. I readily admit I am totally faking it when it comes to this parenting thing and I hit foul balls more than grand slams but on this issue, I hit it out of the ballpark: To break bread with others is to transform your relationship to family status. Even if for just that moment in time, you are family. Connected, bonded, a sister/brotherhood which cannot be broken in that moment. And, really, that moment is all we are guaranteed anyway. Trust me, I know, fall reminds me each year.

Today, grief played a big role in helping me morph my house into a home; four walls into a safe oasis. Three unrelated people into a family.

Today, my house felt like a home.

An Act of Beauty

My Vespa Scooter was stolen. Again. It was almost exactly two years ago when it was stolen the first time. In the past 23 months we've had two lawn mowers, the scooter (now twice), three bags of aluminum cans, a blue construction type tarp, a canopy tent...all stolen.

Each time it sends my son back into fight, flight, or freeze. More oft than not he chooses fight. We have been working on controlling emotions instead of allowing emotions to control you. And, while we still feel violated each time something is stolen from our home, it is a reminder, albeit a harsh one, that we can choose how much control we give to our emotions and emotional responses.

So I am angry, yes. I am violated and feel as such. I am struggling to work on a holiday weekend getting caught up on bookkeeping so I can properly pay my taxes...and yet reasonable responses are precisely what is called for. To respond irrationally does me no good and does not bring my scooter back to me. Similarly it does not serve my child well in relearning some poorly instilled behavioral responses to frustration and anger from an early age.

So we went for a quick hike to find beauty in this world...I believe for every act of ugly, we must intentionally create, meditate or focus on an act of beauty. Today we went to Tioga Falls for a brief hike and to play in the waterfall and resulting creek.

I am still without my Vespa scooter (nor the money to replace it), but I am a little less angry about it.

Your Power Lies in Your Thoughts

As I sit on the couch, house quiet, observing my son in the middle of his yoga practice I cannot help but to send my prayers to him that the most powerful tool he will ever possess is the tool of thought. To think critically. To think calmly. To think with an open mind. To think for himself. We have had a challenging week where the power of one's thoughts have become front and center. I pull up my favorite quote website (Quote Lady) and what quote to I find? One on thoughts, of course.

The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts: therefore, guard accordingly, and take care that you entertain no notions unsuitable to virtue and reasonable nature. ~ Marcus Aurelius

It has taken me a great number of years, and countless hours of practice, to be able to control my thoughts. And I still have many more years, and a mind-numbing number of hours of practice before me. But here I am...attempting to control my thoughts instead of my thoughts controlling me. A powerful lesson for us all in these trying times.

Preserving food to preserve a way of life

I seem to find myself blogging about my grandma a lot. She didn't raise me--I had two wonderful parents who did a mighty fine job at that, but she was instrumental in my growth and development as a person. She taught me so much that only she could teach me.

I remember sitting on her couch trying to stay up to watch the Church Lady on Saturday Night Live and doing foot massages. I would sit on one end of the couch and she on the other. We'd exchange foot massages, except she'd begin to doze off and snore. Then I'd conk out. Neither of us got to hear Dana Carvey inquire, "Could it be....Satan!?" very often. But those moments were tender and precious. 

She also taught me to can and preserve food. When I was a small child I remember my grandpa bringing home bags of fresh vegetables. And we'd all sit up shucking corn, snapping beans, slicing peaches while my grandma tended to the stove. Later in life it became I who brought the bushels, bags or boxes of produce. And she and I would stand at the sink or, later in her cancer journey, sit at the table slicing strawberries, blanching tomatoes, or chopping up the peaches. We'd talk about how her mother used to do the same thing. We spilled entire pots of prepared produce all over the floor. We'd have a glass explosion from time to time. We laughed. We cried. We sweated. We got frustrated. Be we always enjoyed the time together. The most wonderful part of this was in the hour or so after we had finished the process...pots cleaned, burners off, stove wiped down. We'd be sitting at the dining room table just chatting over our ice cold water or tea to cool ourselves off. And then, slowly but surely, "pop...doing...ding...pop..." the lids would begin to let us know our work was paying off in dividends: Our jars were sealing. And in those moments, we had successfully preserved more than just a crop of food; we had preserved a way of life for another generation. 

Whatever your activity is, please engage in activities which will preserve a way of life in the same way my grandmother and I did. Truth be told, I still have a jar of peach preserves from our last summer together. I can't bring myself to open it. Every time I see it in my cupboard, I am flooded with such wonderful memories. Yes, canning food most surely preserves a crop for future consumption, and also a way of life for future generations. 

Attitude Adjustment

I have a case of the Mondays today. And I went to my favorite website for a little attitude adjustment... The Quote Lady never disappoints.


Could we change our attitude, we should not only see life differently, but life itself would be different.--Katherine Mansfield

A little about Katherine Mansfield can be found here: 
Katherine Mansfield

Taco Tuesday on Sunday Because...TACOS!

School has resumed. While I will miss the more laid back approach to life that summer affords, I relish in the sanity provided by predictable routines. Bedtime is within 30 minute range each night. Wake up is the same (ok, maybe a few minutes off if I hit snooze). School drop off and pick up are at predictable times, with minor adjustments for school activities. But the routines I cherish the most: Breaking bread together. Since my son and I became a family nearly six years ago, we start and end each day with a meal together. Breakfast is sometimes just cereal and fruit and dinner is, well, also sometimes just cereal and fruit. But we sit down together. Sometimes we talk and sometimes we don't. Sometimes we're angry with one another and sometimes we're deeply appreciative. Sometimes the meals are amazing and sometimes we order Plan B pizza. But we begin and end the day together, at the same table, dining on the same foods and sharing an experience.

Tonight was Taco Tuesday on Sunday because, I mean, because tacos what else do you need to hear?

Store bought salsa and taco seasoning is so over-laden with sodium that I have learned to make my own. Not only does this help keep my sodium in check (and, thus, help control my blood pressure) but it also tastes better as I can adjust it to our taste buds. So I wanted to share my recipe with you today. I almost exclusively use Penzey's Spices because they're damn good! And now with their political statements, I definitely try to stick with them as it's important to stick up for what's right in America. So here you go, adjust as you wish:

1 Tablespoon chili powder
1/2 Tablespoon Chipotle powder
1/2 Tablespoon Ancho Chili powder
1 teaspoon cayenne powder
2 1/2 teaspoon smoked cumin
2 teaspoons roasted garlic powder
2 teaspoons dried minced onion (I used kroger brand)
1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon smoked mexican paprika
1/4 teaspoon salt

You can tell we like it spicy and smokey. Adjust to suit your taste buds. I find I use stronger spice combos to offset the reduction in salt.

Brown 1 lb of hamburger or meatleass meat. Drain the grease. Return to heat. Add 2 tablespoons of taco seasoning mix, a couple tablespoons of water and a couple tablespoons of fresh salsa (or whatever you have, I'll write that recipe down another day). Heat back up and let water evaporate.

The amount of sodium reduced in this recipe compared to a typical store-bought taco packet is incredible! I can't even do the math BUT this recipe basically makes enough seasoning for three lbs of seasoned taco meat at just under 750 mg of sodium (so 250 per lb of taco meat. each one makes at least 8 tacos for 30 mg of sodium each, more or less) compared to one package of McCormack having 190 mg of sodium per taco! My son and I ate three tacos today for a total of 90 mg of sodium. Store bought we would have had almost 600. Boom! There you go y'all! and I swear it tastes so much better!

You won't go back to store bought. I usually will double this recipe and it'll last me several months. Bon apetit, y'all!

you deserve to live

Today is my dad's birthday. Except he's not here to celebrate it. And I'm not here to mourn it, either. I'm here to celebrate life. He would have been 59 today, but he only made it to 53. Some people have said he was taken too soon, too young. But who are we to say? When our time is up our time is up. Do we have any control over that (yes and no, I can see both sides of this coin based on life choices). 

I do not believe we have a lot of say in how many days are in our life, but we do have ultimate say over how much life is in our days. Just because you woke up and went through another 24 hours doesn't mean you're living. Just because you are breathing and have a pulse doesn't mean you're alive. It just means you have survived more days, but maybe not truly lived. 

So my invitation to you, as I celebrate and honor my dad's life, is to get out and live today. Do something that gives you LIFE and makes you feel alive. 

On my death bed I want to be able to look back and say, "damn! I packed a lot of life in those years, didn't I?!" I hope you do too. You deserve to live! 

Lots of pictures. No apologies. No regrets. Just memories.

I take a lot of pictures of me and my son. Of the things we do. A lot. I have thousands on my phone (mental note: back up phone, print photos). And I have zero apologies to make for stopping to take them.

I do not have the "first time sitting up, rolling over, crawling, walking, day of school," etc. moments to recall but I have "first time ironing clothes, making cookies from scratch, day at work, visit to Disney," etc. memories. As an adoptive family our memories began the day we became a family...the day after my son turned 11. Again, I make no apologies and I've no regrets. I photo-document everything I can remember to.

And I'll tell you the real reason:

almost seven years ago my dad died suddenly. He was here one day and gone the next morning. Poof. Lifeless. Expired. Gone. No further memory-making-moments to be shared. Only a future filled with memories. And pictures.

During the visitation I remember sitting with my aunt Gaila looking at the photo slide show thing-a-ma-jigger (I don't even recall who got the pictures or how this got made but somehow it did) and I broke down. I wept. And mourned that we won't have anymore pictures together. Ever. Every picture we have and will have has already been taken. And I still break down in tears (right now, actually) because I can't take pictures with my dad. I can't take pictures with him and my son. With him and me. With all of us. I can't take pictures of him holding my nieces as they get older and become young women in their own right. Or random shots of him sneaking up behind my mother.

So I take a lot of pictures. One day, my son won't be able to take anymore with me and I want him to have as many as he can so he can look back and remember all the good times we had. All the random road trips we've taken. The times I've been so proud of him. The times our animals have loved on us. When we've had guests over for dinner. When we've done service projects. Memories last forever in our minds, yes, but the pictures help keep it real for me. I can hold a picture. I can put them on my wall and surround myself with the cherished moments. I can tell the stories and keep them alive. The memories will live forever, and the pictures help my dad's legacy live forever, too.

Lots of pictures. No apologies. No regrets. Just memories.