This time of year always gets me thinking about life... and death.
In a few short days, it'll make four years since my dad died. To say I was close to my dad is an understatement. I truly was Daddy's girl. (I'm sure my sisters were, too, but we won't talk about that!)
Not only did I love my dad, I looked up to him, respected him, and though I didn't always agree with him, thought he was the smartest man I knew. There is a void in my life that will never be filled though as the years go on, I'm happy to say that the edges are a bit less jagged. The pain I've felt in the past has mellowed into longing. Longing to hear his voice one more time, feel his arms around me, or cheer over the phone long distance while we watch the Triple Crown races 'together'.
Okay... this isn't supposed to be a sad post, and I've gotten a bit off topic. Back to my original statement. Losing my dad sharpened my perspective on a few things, the brevity of life being one of them. I don't think any age will be young enough for me to declare that I don't want one more year, one more month, one more day, one more second. That I don't want to enjoy and savor every moment that comes my way. Which is why I try, really try, not to waste what I have this very moment. Life.
I do, though... waste it, that is. Sometimes. Not with deliberate intent. More like a passive 'I feel icky today so I'm going to mope around and feel sorry for myself' carelessness. And, honestly, I'm not certain it is possible to live every moment to the fullest. Maybe for some people. Not for me. I came equipped with a lackadaisical attitude that boots up every now and again. And, yes, maybe I've been known to indulge it a little, too. But I'm starting to see the end of the road. It's a long ways away, at least I hope it is. But it's there. That glimmer on the horizon that says 48 isn't quite as old as it seemed when I was 20.
So, I'm making a vow. The same vow I've made every year for the past four when this date rolls around. I'm not going to waste my life. I'm going to stop being so restrictive with myself. Break out of the steel cage that I've erected around my soul. Enjoy more and worry less. Take care of my health. (Whew, that's a big one!) I am making progress. It's not an overnight project. It took me years to get where I am and it'll probably take a few more to get to where I want to be. But I have faith I'll get there. Because no matter how many mopey days I have, I keep coming back to the productive ones. It's a choice. One I'm honored I still have the chance to make. And here's hoping I get to make more of them in the decades to come.
You taught me a lot about life, Dad, but in death you've taught me the most important lesson. Don't take life for granted.
p.s. - I love you and miss you like crazy!
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Do you want to know what it means to be a writer?
I’ll tell you…
An idea pops into your head. It can come from anywhere – a song you heard on the radio, that lady standing next to you in the checkout line at the grocery store, a dream you dreamt the night before. You hurriedly scribble it down on a piece of paper so you won’t forget it, adding as much detail as you can, as names and places and descriptions start forming.
All of a sudden, you have a story to tell. One that’s burning a hole inside of you, one you just HAVE to get out, if for no other reason than to make room for the next one that’s already infringing on your consciousness.
Now you’re ready to start. You sit down and type the title. Page one done! Your fingers begin to fly over the keyboard, adding more and more words as they stream out of your brain. You can’t type fast enough and then, uh oh, you can’t type at all! The words have stopped, like a clog in a drain. You can see the rest of the story behind it but you just can’t seem to get past that blockage. So you sit, and stare, and curse, and cry, and decide you’re done with this, you’re never writing another book much less finishing the one in front of you, and you shut down your computer, grab a handful of cookies, and turn on Netflix. Or maybe that’s just me.
But the story’s still there, nagging at you to come and play, begging you to write it, so you try again, this time pushing against the blockage, typing whatever words come to mind even if they don’t make sense and suddenly, you’re writing again. And it feels great! Better than that, the story sounds great. So you keep writing, adding dimension to your characters until you’re not writing them, they’re writing themselves. Your word count climbs higher and higher, the chapters begin piling up, and miraculously, you’re halfway there. Now you kick it into high gear.
For three days straight, you do nothing but write. You live, eat, breathe the words. Twelve, fourteen, sixteen hours a day, you sit and you write and you hate that entire paragraph and erase it, only to decide you like it, and you pray your undo button works, and voilà, there it is and it’s brilliant. And - oh my god, how could I have forgotten to hit save? I’ll never be able to remember that paragraph - so you write a new one, and hey, you like this one even better. And it goes on and on and on, and you lose track of time – how can it be 1:30 already? I just looked at the clock and it was 11:00 - and you forget to eat until that part of your brain that understands why you’re suddenly bitchy screams at you, and you get up and grab the simplest thing you can because you don’t want to lose your train of thought, and you might as well pee while you’re up so you don’t have to stop again. And you finally drag yourself to bed because the words you’re typing make no sense at all, and you’re exhausted, and your head hurts, and you know the moment you hit the pillow, you’ll be unconscious, and instead you lay there for two hours, wide awake, trying desperately to forget about the story for five or six hours, and instead you come up with the PERFECT line but you’re too tired to get out of bed, so you scribble it on a piece of paper – in the dark, of course, so you don’t wake your husband by turning on the light – and then you try to sleep, only to have another sentence pop into you head, and you beg for someone to shut it all off, and...
The next morning you wake up, groggy, crabby, exhausted from lack of sleep but you bypass everything and head straight for your desk, running back to your room to grab that slip of paper with the finest sentence ever written, only to find that you can’t make sense of what it says because you were too damn tired to spell correctly.
But you don’t care because this is the day you’ll get it done and you sit and the words are flowing like Niagara Falls but they’re not flowing fast enough because it took you an hour to write that paragraph because you’re too picky about which adjective you want to use, and the only resource you seem to utilize is the thesaurus, and oh no, another hour has gone by, and you’re never going to finish because the story JUST WILL NOT END, let’s wrap it up already, and oh, yeah, you try to breathe.
You ignore everything around you as you push to get it all down. The housework, your friends, your husband, even the dog. Okay, maybe not the dog. You resent any and every interruption and turn your phone to silent, berating yourself for reading the message that just popped up, resisting the lure of Candy Crush Soda, urging yourself to finish the damn book!
That’s it! You’re so close now, you can taste it. Only one more chapter to go and the epilogue, and you’re home free. A couple of more hours... wait, did I say hours? Well, okay, I guess technically a day counts as hours – 24 OF THEM!!!! So you push and you tell yourself you are NOT going to bed until it is finished, and you save time where you can (how much do adult diapers cost?), and you get to the last paragraph, and you decide the entire thing’s a piece of crap, and then you type the final words (I don't mean "The End"),and you smile because you absolutely love it! And a weird sense of peace envelopes you.
You did it! You completed something you set out to do. No matter whether anyone likes it or not – who wouldn’t like it? It’s awesome! – it doesn’t matter because you did it! Well, maybe it matters a little bit. Wait… maybe it matters a lot! Oh no! What if nobody likes it? What if I’ve just spent the past two weeks killing myself, metaphorically, of course, but physically, mentally, emotionally draining myself, ignoring everyone around me, and nobody likes it??
You take a deep breath, calm your nerves, blame your outburst on the fact that you’ve had little to no sleep in the past week, and begin reading. From the beginning. And you smile because you really, really like it. And you know that moment you hit publish, every tear, every knot in your stomach, every curse word, every sleepless night will be worth it.
Because you’re a writer.
I’ll tell you…
An idea pops into your head. It can come from anywhere – a song you heard on the radio, that lady standing next to you in the checkout line at the grocery store, a dream you dreamt the night before. You hurriedly scribble it down on a piece of paper so you won’t forget it, adding as much detail as you can, as names and places and descriptions start forming.
All of a sudden, you have a story to tell. One that’s burning a hole inside of you, one you just HAVE to get out, if for no other reason than to make room for the next one that’s already infringing on your consciousness.
Now you’re ready to start. You sit down and type the title. Page one done! Your fingers begin to fly over the keyboard, adding more and more words as they stream out of your brain. You can’t type fast enough and then, uh oh, you can’t type at all! The words have stopped, like a clog in a drain. You can see the rest of the story behind it but you just can’t seem to get past that blockage. So you sit, and stare, and curse, and cry, and decide you’re done with this, you’re never writing another book much less finishing the one in front of you, and you shut down your computer, grab a handful of cookies, and turn on Netflix. Or maybe that’s just me.
But the story’s still there, nagging at you to come and play, begging you to write it, so you try again, this time pushing against the blockage, typing whatever words come to mind even if they don’t make sense and suddenly, you’re writing again. And it feels great! Better than that, the story sounds great. So you keep writing, adding dimension to your characters until you’re not writing them, they’re writing themselves. Your word count climbs higher and higher, the chapters begin piling up, and miraculously, you’re halfway there. Now you kick it into high gear.
For three days straight, you do nothing but write. You live, eat, breathe the words. Twelve, fourteen, sixteen hours a day, you sit and you write and you hate that entire paragraph and erase it, only to decide you like it, and you pray your undo button works, and voilà, there it is and it’s brilliant. And - oh my god, how could I have forgotten to hit save? I’ll never be able to remember that paragraph - so you write a new one, and hey, you like this one even better. And it goes on and on and on, and you lose track of time – how can it be 1:30 already? I just looked at the clock and it was 11:00 - and you forget to eat until that part of your brain that understands why you’re suddenly bitchy screams at you, and you get up and grab the simplest thing you can because you don’t want to lose your train of thought, and you might as well pee while you’re up so you don’t have to stop again. And you finally drag yourself to bed because the words you’re typing make no sense at all, and you’re exhausted, and your head hurts, and you know the moment you hit the pillow, you’ll be unconscious, and instead you lay there for two hours, wide awake, trying desperately to forget about the story for five or six hours, and instead you come up with the PERFECT line but you’re too tired to get out of bed, so you scribble it on a piece of paper – in the dark, of course, so you don’t wake your husband by turning on the light – and then you try to sleep, only to have another sentence pop into you head, and you beg for someone to shut it all off, and...
The next morning you wake up, groggy, crabby, exhausted from lack of sleep but you bypass everything and head straight for your desk, running back to your room to grab that slip of paper with the finest sentence ever written, only to find that you can’t make sense of what it says because you were too damn tired to spell correctly.
But you don’t care because this is the day you’ll get it done and you sit and the words are flowing like Niagara Falls but they’re not flowing fast enough because it took you an hour to write that paragraph because you’re too picky about which adjective you want to use, and the only resource you seem to utilize is the thesaurus, and oh no, another hour has gone by, and you’re never going to finish because the story JUST WILL NOT END, let’s wrap it up already, and oh, yeah, you try to breathe.
You ignore everything around you as you push to get it all down. The housework, your friends, your husband, even the dog. Okay, maybe not the dog. You resent any and every interruption and turn your phone to silent, berating yourself for reading the message that just popped up, resisting the lure of Candy Crush Soda, urging yourself to finish the damn book!
That’s it! You’re so close now, you can taste it. Only one more chapter to go and the epilogue, and you’re home free. A couple of more hours... wait, did I say hours? Well, okay, I guess technically a day counts as hours – 24 OF THEM!!!! So you push and you tell yourself you are NOT going to bed until it is finished, and you save time where you can (how much do adult diapers cost?), and you get to the last paragraph, and you decide the entire thing’s a piece of crap, and then you type the final words (I don't mean "The End"),and you smile because you absolutely love it! And a weird sense of peace envelopes you.
You did it! You completed something you set out to do. No matter whether anyone likes it or not – who wouldn’t like it? It’s awesome! – it doesn’t matter because you did it! Well, maybe it matters a little bit. Wait… maybe it matters a lot! Oh no! What if nobody likes it? What if I’ve just spent the past two weeks killing myself, metaphorically, of course, but physically, mentally, emotionally draining myself, ignoring everyone around me, and nobody likes it??
You take a deep breath, calm your nerves, blame your outburst on the fact that you’ve had little to no sleep in the past week, and begin reading. From the beginning. And you smile because you really, really like it. And you know that moment you hit publish, every tear, every knot in your stomach, every curse word, every sleepless night will be worth it.
Because you’re a writer.
Friday, January 29, 2016
For most of my life, I've been fighting against things that make me happy...
I don't know why. Maybe some part of me thinks I'm not deserving for whatever reason. I don't dress the way I'd really like to, I don't live where I want to, I don't learn the things I want to. You know, those things that, the moment you look at them, make your soul sing. The things that are authentically me.
One of my favorite books is 'Something More: Excavating Your Authentic Self' by Sarah Ban Breathnach. Quite honestly, I love all of her books. In her pages I find hope that I can embrace my authentic self, that I can live the life I'm meant to live. Someday. So why not now?
I know, I know, I've chosen to live my current life. I make choices every day that keep me where I am and I have the ability to make choices that will take me somewhere else. So why do I fight my authentic self? Why do I ignore that part of me that lights up when I see a particular place, or watch a movie where the characters take part in an activity I want to learn, or try on that dress, only to put it back on the rack?
Okay, yes, some of it has to do with income. Alright, most of it has to do with income. That's what I tell myself anyway. But honestly, I don't think money has anything to do with it. I think it's fear. And that pisses me off. I'm far too advanced in my life to let fear hold me back. I've learned over the years that you never know if you can do something until you try, and not being successful at what you do is NOT the same thing as failure. Failure is never taking that first step, never changing your habits, never venturing out into the unknown. Failure is not having faith in yourself.
So, today, January 29, 2016, I'm kicking fear out of my life. Today starts a whole new way of thinking, to sync my mind with my soul, to clear the path of uncertainty, and to fan that spark into a bonfire. I can do anything I want in my life and I'm intelligent enough to find a way to do it! Will I have setbacks? Most definitely. Will doubts creep in and take up residence? Only if I let them. I am my own biggest obstacle. Well, no more!!
Today is the day I take my life back!
I don't know why. Maybe some part of me thinks I'm not deserving for whatever reason. I don't dress the way I'd really like to, I don't live where I want to, I don't learn the things I want to. You know, those things that, the moment you look at them, make your soul sing. The things that are authentically me.
One of my favorite books is 'Something More: Excavating Your Authentic Self' by Sarah Ban Breathnach. Quite honestly, I love all of her books. In her pages I find hope that I can embrace my authentic self, that I can live the life I'm meant to live. Someday. So why not now?
I know, I know, I've chosen to live my current life. I make choices every day that keep me where I am and I have the ability to make choices that will take me somewhere else. So why do I fight my authentic self? Why do I ignore that part of me that lights up when I see a particular place, or watch a movie where the characters take part in an activity I want to learn, or try on that dress, only to put it back on the rack?
Okay, yes, some of it has to do with income. Alright, most of it has to do with income. That's what I tell myself anyway. But honestly, I don't think money has anything to do with it. I think it's fear. And that pisses me off. I'm far too advanced in my life to let fear hold me back. I've learned over the years that you never know if you can do something until you try, and not being successful at what you do is NOT the same thing as failure. Failure is never taking that first step, never changing your habits, never venturing out into the unknown. Failure is not having faith in yourself.
So, today, January 29, 2016, I'm kicking fear out of my life. Today starts a whole new way of thinking, to sync my mind with my soul, to clear the path of uncertainty, and to fan that spark into a bonfire. I can do anything I want in my life and I'm intelligent enough to find a way to do it! Will I have setbacks? Most definitely. Will doubts creep in and take up residence? Only if I let them. I am my own biggest obstacle. Well, no more!!
Today is the day I take my life back!
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
I've decided to start a new venture...
Don't worry. Writing is still at the top of my list. But while I'm in recovery mode, I need to do something non-strenuous to supplement my income. One of the by-products of writing for many authors is making promos and teasers. The problem is finding the time in between writing, editing, working a job - full or part-time -, taking care of the family, and, oh yeah, breathing. So, in order to fill what-I-hope-is-a need, I've decided to offer my services in the promo design business.
I enjoy creating promos and teasers. It's fun to add different elements together and see what comes up. It's like writing with pictures. Each time I make one for myself, I get a bit more daring, playing around with fonts and colors and shades and graphics. (I'm addicted to fonts!!)
So, if anyone out there in blogger land is in need of a promo, Facebook banner, whatever, drop me a line. I've set up a dedicated email address for just that purpose. And you don't have to be an author, either. I welcome the opportunity to design whatever you need. Oh, right, the email address - it's kristineraymond.promos@gmail.com. Or you can check out my website for pricing and such. And who knows? Maybe I'll end up liking designing more than I like writing.
Nah!!!
Don't worry. Writing is still at the top of my list. But while I'm in recovery mode, I need to do something non-strenuous to supplement my income. One of the by-products of writing for many authors is making promos and teasers. The problem is finding the time in between writing, editing, working a job - full or part-time -, taking care of the family, and, oh yeah, breathing. So, in order to fill what-I-hope-is-a need, I've decided to offer my services in the promo design business.
I enjoy creating promos and teasers. It's fun to add different elements together and see what comes up. It's like writing with pictures. Each time I make one for myself, I get a bit more daring, playing around with fonts and colors and shades and graphics. (I'm addicted to fonts!!)
So, if anyone out there in blogger land is in need of a promo, Facebook banner, whatever, drop me a line. I've set up a dedicated email address for just that purpose. And you don't have to be an author, either. I welcome the opportunity to design whatever you need. Oh, right, the email address - it's kristineraymond.promos@gmail.com. Or you can check out my website for pricing and such. And who knows? Maybe I'll end up liking designing more than I like writing.
Nah!!!
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
I hate down days...
Oh, I understand they're a part of life. Not every day can be a feeling great, icing on the cake, ponies and rainbows kind of day. I get that. The thing that scares me about down days is... well... me. It doesn't take much for me to slip into a dark mood, one where I'm feeling sorry for myself, for anything and everything that's ever gone wrong in my life. Strep throat in third grade? Add it to the list.
I don't like myself when I'm in my dark place, and I can guarantee no one else does, either. Even my furbabies know to steer clear on days like these. A joy to be around, I am not. Here's the thing I've learned, though...
My usual way of dealing with such days was to push through them. Force myself to be active, be productive, be social, when all I really want to do is stay in bed and grump. However, it's taken me many, many years to learn this doesn't work for me. The harder I push to make myself sunshiny, the longer I linger in the dark. Because I can't be productive, creative, or even civil when my mind, body, and soul are hurting. I end up having two or three miserable days because each non-accomplishment fuels my feelings of despair and failure.
So I'm trying something new. Instead of pushing against my emotions on days like these, I'm embracing them. Accepting that I feel badly for whatever reason. Realizing that a down day is not the end of the world; it's a pause on life. And we all need to pause sometimes, as long as we keep in mind that pause is not the same as stop. Didn't finish that to-do list? It'll be there tomorrow. I promise.
My newfound realization doesn't make me like down days any more than I used to. For me, lazy days are only fun when you plan to be lazy, not when some inner mechanism outside of your control forces you to be. But maybe by letting the bad flow through me the same way good does, I'll have a more balanced life.
Maybe...
Oh, I understand they're a part of life. Not every day can be a feeling great, icing on the cake, ponies and rainbows kind of day. I get that. The thing that scares me about down days is... well... me. It doesn't take much for me to slip into a dark mood, one where I'm feeling sorry for myself, for anything and everything that's ever gone wrong in my life. Strep throat in third grade? Add it to the list.
I don't like myself when I'm in my dark place, and I can guarantee no one else does, either. Even my furbabies know to steer clear on days like these. A joy to be around, I am not. Here's the thing I've learned, though...
My usual way of dealing with such days was to push through them. Force myself to be active, be productive, be social, when all I really want to do is stay in bed and grump. However, it's taken me many, many years to learn this doesn't work for me. The harder I push to make myself sunshiny, the longer I linger in the dark. Because I can't be productive, creative, or even civil when my mind, body, and soul are hurting. I end up having two or three miserable days because each non-accomplishment fuels my feelings of despair and failure.
So I'm trying something new. Instead of pushing against my emotions on days like these, I'm embracing them. Accepting that I feel badly for whatever reason. Realizing that a down day is not the end of the world; it's a pause on life. And we all need to pause sometimes, as long as we keep in mind that pause is not the same as stop. Didn't finish that to-do list? It'll be there tomorrow. I promise.
My newfound realization doesn't make me like down days any more than I used to. For me, lazy days are only fun when you plan to be lazy, not when some inner mechanism outside of your control forces you to be. But maybe by letting the bad flow through me the same way good does, I'll have a more balanced life.
Maybe...
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Happy New Year's Eve ...
Looking back over this past year, the first thing that jumps out at me is all of the goals I didn't meet. But rather than dwell on what I didn't do, after all, I can't get that time back, I've chosen to embrace the things I did accomplish.
1) I attended an author signing in Biloxi, MS, a city I'd never been to, and met some wonderful people like Amanda Lanclos, Anna Kristell, Anne Welch, and Lila Felix. I was also able to catch up with friends I hadn't seen for several months as well as meet lots of readers.
2) I wrote and published a novella and a non-fiction short story. While that isn't even close to the goal I'd set for myself, I'm proud that I kept writing and didn't give up.
3) I learned that I'm not as invincible as I once thought. And, yes, that's something I embrace because I was able to let go of a lot of thought patterns and feelings that hold me back. I still have a long way to go but it's a start.
4) I've continued to grow as an author, and the audience for my books has grown as well. Nothing makes me smile more than hearing from a reader who liked one of my stories. Sales are great, reviews are nice, but it's hearing that you made a difference in someone's life, that you made them smile or laugh or cry, that pleases me most as an author.
5) Not that I've ever doubted this one but the knowledge that my husband is always there for me, literally in sickness and in health, was reaffirmed. I'll admit, I like to be the one in control (stop laughing, those of you who know me). I like to be the person who anticipates needs and gets things done. I've acknowledged that this comes from a need to fix something in myself. I'm not sure what that is yet but I'm enjoying the journey of discovery. I think learning what makes me tick, and adjusting my behavior accordingly, is the greatest gift I can give myself.
6) Back to the goals thing, I've realized that not meeting a goal is not the same thing as quitting. I don't see myself as a failure; I see a determined, non-quitter who will pick herself up and continue on the path I've made. I am only a failure if I never try in the first place.
7) I've come to the conclusion that life's too short to keep putting off simple pleasures. Have I mentioned how much I love pie??
8) I've accepted I'm where I'm supposed to be at this moment in my life. It might not be where I want to be, but it's where I am. That has to be enough.
9) I decided to take the plunge and host my own author event in 2016. I'm so excited for the chance to meet new authors, welcome ones I know, and generally, have a blast. It's called Pages in the Caves if anyone wants to come. Here's the website - www.pagesinthecaves.weebly.com. (I never said I was above self-promotion!)
I'm looking forward to a wonderful year but I also realize it will only be as good as I make it. And I plan on making it a GREAT one!!!
Happy New Year everyone! Here's to health, happiness, and prosperity.
One more thing ... 2015 gave us a Triple Crown winner for the first time in 33 years. I've never missed my dad more <3
Looking back over this past year, the first thing that jumps out at me is all of the goals I didn't meet. But rather than dwell on what I didn't do, after all, I can't get that time back, I've chosen to embrace the things I did accomplish.
1) I attended an author signing in Biloxi, MS, a city I'd never been to, and met some wonderful people like Amanda Lanclos, Anna Kristell, Anne Welch, and Lila Felix. I was also able to catch up with friends I hadn't seen for several months as well as meet lots of readers.
2) I wrote and published a novella and a non-fiction short story. While that isn't even close to the goal I'd set for myself, I'm proud that I kept writing and didn't give up.
3) I learned that I'm not as invincible as I once thought. And, yes, that's something I embrace because I was able to let go of a lot of thought patterns and feelings that hold me back. I still have a long way to go but it's a start.
4) I've continued to grow as an author, and the audience for my books has grown as well. Nothing makes me smile more than hearing from a reader who liked one of my stories. Sales are great, reviews are nice, but it's hearing that you made a difference in someone's life, that you made them smile or laugh or cry, that pleases me most as an author.
5) Not that I've ever doubted this one but the knowledge that my husband is always there for me, literally in sickness and in health, was reaffirmed. I'll admit, I like to be the one in control (stop laughing, those of you who know me). I like to be the person who anticipates needs and gets things done. I've acknowledged that this comes from a need to fix something in myself. I'm not sure what that is yet but I'm enjoying the journey of discovery. I think learning what makes me tick, and adjusting my behavior accordingly, is the greatest gift I can give myself.
6) Back to the goals thing, I've realized that not meeting a goal is not the same thing as quitting. I don't see myself as a failure; I see a determined, non-quitter who will pick herself up and continue on the path I've made. I am only a failure if I never try in the first place.
7) I've come to the conclusion that life's too short to keep putting off simple pleasures. Have I mentioned how much I love pie??
8) I've accepted I'm where I'm supposed to be at this moment in my life. It might not be where I want to be, but it's where I am. That has to be enough.
9) I decided to take the plunge and host my own author event in 2016. I'm so excited for the chance to meet new authors, welcome ones I know, and generally, have a blast. It's called Pages in the Caves if anyone wants to come. Here's the website - www.pagesinthecaves.weebly.com. (I never said I was above self-promotion!)
I'm looking forward to a wonderful year but I also realize it will only be as good as I make it. And I plan on making it a GREAT one!!!
Happy New Year everyone! Here's to health, happiness, and prosperity.
One more thing ... 2015 gave us a Triple Crown winner for the first time in 33 years. I've never missed my dad more <3
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Do most people grow more reflective this time of year?
I do. Even though I'm not much into celebrating Christmas (my hubby could take it or leave it, and we have no kids, so...)I still get caught up in the remembrances of my childhood. My mom did all holidays up in a grand way but I think the one she went over the top with (in a good way) was Christmas. In our household, the holiday began on December 1st. As kids, we would go to school in the morning, leaving behind an ordinary house, and return to a winter wonderland. Every room was decorated, with garland and lights decking the halls, figurines and villages adorning every flat surface, spray snow on the windows, and Christmas music playing on the stereo. It was magical!
Recreating those enchanting moments were one of the things I missed most when kids didn't happen for us. For decades, I'd looked forward to bestowing that magic into my children's lives. My first few years of marriage, I tried to keep the spirit alive, if only for the hubs and myself, but his lack of enthusiasm - not that he minded if I decorated or not, it just made no impression on him - gradually dampened my passion. Add to that the addition, over the years, of dozens of furry 'children', and dangling lights and a live scratching post in the shape of a tree didn't seem to make much sense.
But as I get older, the desire to recreate my childhood Christmases grows stronger. In a few years, we'll be able to reclaim our home from our furry rescues (not that I begrudge one single moment, cat, dog, ferret, puppy, or kitten that has enriched our lives) and at that time, I'm hoping to rekindle the spark of magic that glows inside of me this time of year. Because to me, it is magical, this season of giving and loving one another just a little bit more. Laughing a bit easier and showing appreciation for what we have in our lives.
Whatever meaning one associates with Christmas, whatever traditions that find their way into homes around the world, I wish you peace and happiness, not only for this month or that one day which most of us celebrate. I wish you peace and happiness for the entire year, and the one after that, and the one after that. I wish it for myself, too. I love this nostalgic feeling and I want to keep it with me every day.
That's my Christmas wish. What's yours?
I do. Even though I'm not much into celebrating Christmas (my hubby could take it or leave it, and we have no kids, so...)I still get caught up in the remembrances of my childhood. My mom did all holidays up in a grand way but I think the one she went over the top with (in a good way) was Christmas. In our household, the holiday began on December 1st. As kids, we would go to school in the morning, leaving behind an ordinary house, and return to a winter wonderland. Every room was decorated, with garland and lights decking the halls, figurines and villages adorning every flat surface, spray snow on the windows, and Christmas music playing on the stereo. It was magical!
Recreating those enchanting moments were one of the things I missed most when kids didn't happen for us. For decades, I'd looked forward to bestowing that magic into my children's lives. My first few years of marriage, I tried to keep the spirit alive, if only for the hubs and myself, but his lack of enthusiasm - not that he minded if I decorated or not, it just made no impression on him - gradually dampened my passion. Add to that the addition, over the years, of dozens of furry 'children', and dangling lights and a live scratching post in the shape of a tree didn't seem to make much sense.
But as I get older, the desire to recreate my childhood Christmases grows stronger. In a few years, we'll be able to reclaim our home from our furry rescues (not that I begrudge one single moment, cat, dog, ferret, puppy, or kitten that has enriched our lives) and at that time, I'm hoping to rekindle the spark of magic that glows inside of me this time of year. Because to me, it is magical, this season of giving and loving one another just a little bit more. Laughing a bit easier and showing appreciation for what we have in our lives.
Whatever meaning one associates with Christmas, whatever traditions that find their way into homes around the world, I wish you peace and happiness, not only for this month or that one day which most of us celebrate. I wish you peace and happiness for the entire year, and the one after that, and the one after that. I wish it for myself, too. I love this nostalgic feeling and I want to keep it with me every day.
That's my Christmas wish. What's yours?
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