I am hearing from more and more of you, and after a chat with my friend Ranae, it is becoming quite clear that this is the summer adult children are descending upon us like locus. Maybe they arrived back home because they could no longer afford rent, maybe they lost their job and had to return to the nest, perhaps they just graduated from college only to discover their degree isn’t going to help land the job they had hoped for in this challenging economy, or maybe they are just home for the summer between semesters? Whatever the reason may be, more and more adult children are living at home these days.
We thought we needed an owner’s manual when they were born! Ha! Where is the guidebook to help navigate this ever-shifting landscape??? What exactly are the rules? We are all adults here, but somehow I found myself reminding grown people to pick up their towels and stop leaving a trail behind them.
My husband, father of these two lovely offspring who descended upon us last summer, reached his breaking point. After nagging and painstakingly pointing out that the dishwasher is mere inches from the sink, and that the dishes must actually be loaded into the dishwasher—not just be left in the sink—hung a sign.
Maybe next we can tackle grocery consumption, i.e. there is a store right down the street, feel free at any point to replace some of the food you have devoured. After that we are going to work on liquor cabinet protocol. If we are all going to live together, Mommy must have some tequila left in the house!
Several years ago I was talking with a woman I considered invincible. She was an athlete, a woman who ran marathons, went backpacking alone, and climbed mountains most only view from the ground. I was telling her how much I envied her courage and lack of fear. She looked at me and smiled, and then told me something I have never forgotten; she was afraid too. It was an amazing revelation to me that the women we admire for daring such courageous feats are really no different than us. The difference isn’t that they aren’t afraid and we are, the difference is that they do it anyway.
I always keep this quote hanging on my bulletin board, “When I dare to be powerful – to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.” Audre Lorde.
Moving through fear can mean daring to cut off the long hair you have had all of your life or starting a new business. Sometimes we need to take a deep breath, and sometimes we may even need a push before we can take that scary leap of faith.
Perhaps it is not failure we fear, but success. Nelson Mandela once said, “Our worst fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”
Dig out your Helen Reddy tape (yes chances are it isn’t on CD) and sing along to I am woman hear me roar….
The other day I was searching for a photo for a new picture frame I’d just bought. I sorted through dozens of vacation snapshots—the ones I keep telling myself I will some day put in adorable scrapbooks—but for now they sit in shoe boxes.
As I poured over the pictures I had a few good laughs going down memory lane. The good times, the bad times, and the what-were-you-thinking clothes and haircuts.
Then I found the unthinkable—an old picture of me in a bikini! My husband had managed to snap a full-length shot of me on the beach. I was instantly transported back to that day almost 20 years ago. I vividly remembered changing swimming suits three or four times that morning trying to find one I thought best hid my love handles.
As I thought back about the morning, and how self-conscious I felt about wearing a bikini, I feel really stupid. Because you know what—that mother of two looked just fine. And yet I wasted precious energy and time stressing out over my not perfect body. What an idiot!
Twenty years later I would love to have that body back. That very same body I anguished over back then! It was a real ah-ha moment for me. Twenty years from now I will most likely wish I had the body back that I have today.
The reality is even the women we think have perfect bodies aren’t content. We are ALL spending way too much time on if-only. If only I wasn’t sagging here or there. If only I didn’t have stretch marks. If only I didn’t have these saddle bags.
The moral of the story is… love the body you have RIGHT NOW.
Think of all the energy we waste worrying about wrinkles, cellulite, belly pouch and gray hair. Does it really matter? NO. Never was that more clear than when I stared at that photo from two decades ago and lamented over the time and energy lost worrying about nothing. I vowed right then and there to spend my time appreciating health and well being instead of berating myself over silly things like stretch marks.
Let’s start today loving and accepting ourselves—lumps and all.
I challenge you to give yourself the gift of perspective. Go get out an old photo of yourself. Remember what you worried about back then… Not so bad, huh. So be gentler with the body you have today.
Don’t waste another minute of your precious time worrying about cellulite! That is what self-tanner is for. Ha!
I just went to lunch with a friend, and as gals do we got talking about, well everything… and it seems a lot of women are in the midst of big, bold, brave life changes right now. I think it is really exciting to see women decide they aren’t waiting anymore to start following their hearts, checking off their life lists and discovering their passions. One friend is going to become a yoga instructor, one is heading to South Africa, another is writing a book.
Our conversation got me thinking about a truly inspiring video my daughter sent me a while back that actually made me gasp out loud. And I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.
So what was so jaw dropping about this video? Well, first let me tell you that it’s a video of my daughter’s childhood best friend. Libby was like part of the family when our kids were growing up.
This awe-inspiring video will amaze you too. Take a look for yourself and see the height—literally—of bravery and determination in following a dream. And it all begins with having the courage to take that first step toward a goal, and the persistence to keep putting one foot in front of the other until we reach the other side.
We may not have the moxie to walk across a high wire nearly 3000 feet above the Yosemite Valley floor, but we all have hopes, dreams, and secret ambitions.
Have you lost your sense of adventure? Is she buried? It is time to let her out!
This month I dare you to try something new. Take that painting class you have always wanted to sign up for, go backpacking for the first time, start the business you have been dreaming about, plant the garden you have always wanted. Dare to dream, dare to have fun!
Maybe we don’t all have to walk across Yosemite, but we do have to go out on a limb in order to reach our dreams.
Sometimes on the way to your dream you get lost and find a better one. Now more than ever I am finding people are truly reevaluating life. Perhaps with our ever-changing landscape now is the perfect time to step back and ponder what other paths we might have taken, what passions and pursuits we wished we had let our hearts follow. It is okay to change our minds and it’s never too late to start.
Many years ago a friend gave me a gift with the inscription, “It is never too late in fiction or in life to revise.”
So what new adventure might you begin? What does your heart long to do? If you start something exciting be sure to comment and let me know!
I believe there are two groups of people; those who like to live with a fire extinguisher on each hip and those who don’t. I fall into the don’t category. I like to avoid those last minute fires whenever possible.
I figure life hands us enough twists and turns that can’t be prevented. I am sure as heck not going to add any fuel to the fire by being unorganized. But lately it seems I have been surrounded by the friggin fire department!
One last minute challenge after another keeps popping up and smoldering, many of which could have been prevented with a bit of organization and communication.
Good thing this don’t has a sense of humor and an extra bucket around just in case.
The heat is on so I braved my first trip to the local pool. Ladies what is the deal? More and more of us gals are starting to wonder out loud why it is okay for men to walk around like Sasquatch while women get dirty looks if we show up with a tiny bit of stubble on our legs.
We are expected to fight nature and wax, shave, tweeze and otherwise electronically torture ourselves into sleek hairless creatures. Why is their hair okay and our hair somehow unacceptable?
I am getting simply fed up with this notion of demanding increasingly less and less hair on women while men get to wander around perfectly comfortable with their five o’clock shadows, their Andy Rooney-like eye brows and their hairy backs!
My friend, who shall remain nameless—okay it was Doug—told me that he thinks women should all be getting Brazilian waxes.Oh really? Ladies, lets start suggesting all men get the Guyzilian wax! A past issue of Men’s Journal says this is a sign of the apocalypse—well guess what guys—we thought the same thing when mandatory Brazilian waxing became trendy!
When I went to Europe much to my delight I discovered that women there were lounging at the beach eating carbs, avoiding razors and enjoying themselves! Hmmm… I think they are on to something!
They say all fashion is cyclical. So when is that full length swimming suit coming back?
If you read my last posting you know I have been in need of more than a chiropractic adjustment, I needed an attitude adjustment!
I have often said when kids are crabby put them in water. I think this applies to big kids too.
When my kids were little I would instantly put them in water if they were irritable. When they were babies I would give them a bath when they were fussy. As they got older I would send them out to the pool. Their pleasing personalities soon returned.
I am a firm believer there isn’t much a bath won’t cure. Water will go a long way toward improving one’s temperament.
My favorite relaxing technique is floating. Give me a lake, pool or better yet ocean, and something to float on and I am in heaven. That is my ultimate form of relaxation. I actually count it as meditation.
Well, now we have diagnosed the problem, a case of crabby. And prescribed the cure. The doctor orders 3 hours of float time, taken once a day for 2 days. Throw in a margarita for good measure!
For several weeks I have been referring to a situation as a pain in the ass. It has been frustrating and draining. I like a drama free zone, and it has been anything but around here lately. One of those times, whether on the home front or at work we all want to look back on—not be in the middle of.
I know better, hell I write about, talk about it, and truly do get the power of our words. And here I have been week after exasperating week going on and on about what a pain in the ass this situation is.
Blame it on lack of sleep, blame it on a moment of weakness, blame it on oops I did it again, but you know how this story ends… guess who has a pain in the ass? That’s right boys and girls here it is four o’clock in the morning and I am writing about the literal pain in my ass because I can’t sleep due to the flare up of my sciatic nerve.
Who feels like a horses ass now?
Lesson learned. Note taken. A painful reminder that our words have power. Change of plans, from here to forth I shall be saying, wow I am so lucky to be learning so much from this exciting process. I am sure it’s all working out exactly as it is meant to be.
The other day I was trying to untangle a bunch of necklaces that had become twisted up together in one big ball of knots. After about twenty extremely frustrating minutes on this mess it became quite clear to me that the harder I pulled on each chain, the more ensnarled it all became.
Half an hour into this tedious project I decided to just relax and work each chain with patience. Slowly I began to tug at the ball of knotted up necklaces, winding each chain up, back, around and gently through until at long last it was free from the twisted up pile.
It dawned on me when I finished the project and hung up all five necklaces, just how much this process is like life in general. When we try to force things, pulling too hard in the wrong direction, life fights back. When we relax and go with the flow, life tends to unfold just how it is supposed to.
The next night as I put one of the necklaces on I felt pure gratification.
I was chatting with a friend yesterday who was at the end of her rope. She said she felt like she was clinging to her last shred of sanity. We have all been there at one point or another. As she was sharing her feelings of exasperation it dawned on me that men never seem to feel like they are going “crazy” when they are overwhelmed? They innately realize what they need is a break, not a break down.
“Over the years, I have often called my dear sister, my lifeline, when I felt like I was crossing the line between sane and crazy—when I thought my own nervous breakdown was imminent. Every time I reached out to her, she reminds me—over and over again—that I can check into a five-star hotel, order room service, and get a massage every day for a week for a helluva lot less money than what it costs to check into a sanitarium. She should know! She is still trying to pay off her medical bills from her a stay in the psych ward and she says she would have been better off at a resort. She jokes that all she got was bad hospital food, scratchy sheets and poor counseling.
So whenever I am so stressed out I feel like I am teetering on the edge of sanity, I call my lifeline—she reminds me there is a reason so many women feel like they are about to have a nervous breakdown: they need a break. And she gives me permission to take one.”
That was an excerpt from my new book, Oh Thank Goodness, It’s Not Just Me. Available www.Simple Truths.com
Women, you are not alone! We share so many of the same feelings and experiences.
A trip to the stress-free beach beats a trip in a straight jacket any day!
I was in a store a few days ago watching a young Mom juggle three small children. At the check out counter the woman ringing her up smiled and said “Don’t worry, it will get easier.” I wanted to tell her the truth.
I have come to realize the unspoken truth of motherhood. It gets harder, not easier. When my kids were babies, I thought if I could just get them in school it would get easier. Once they were in school I thought if I could just survive their teenage years it would get easier. Once they were in high school it was all about hanging in there until they went to college. They are adults now. I am no longer in denial.
The fact is, when you put your whole heart and soul into it, involved parenting is never easy and the older your kids get the higher the stakes become.
Why don’t owners manuals come standard-issue when you give birth or adopt a baby? Raising children raises a lot of questions. Will a Mothers vast amount of love and dedication be enough to help make their hopes and dreams come true? How do you keep them safe? It is an awesome responsibility, one I have never taken lightly and one that often feels very heavy indeed.
Each age comes with each own nuances and challenges. I am convinced the reason our babies (think adorable puppies) are so cute is simply so we won’t send them back when they are keeping us up all night. I am also convinced that the reason they turn into teenagers (think dogs) is so when they leave for college we are ready to let them go.
Just think about it, if our children stayed in the adorable puppy phase forever we would never want them to move out. Nature thought of everything and designed teenagers specifically to address that issue. Having said that, now with an empty nest I wonder where the instructions are for this next era of parenting. That’s right—apparently the beat goes on!
And this seems to be the phase—isn’t there always a “phase” when it comes to kids—that nobody talks about. Or should I say warns you about. The 20 to 30 phase. Parents all sigh together whenever teenagers are discussed and collectively cringe over the terrible two’s, but I didn’t hear much about the joys the transitional twenties.
The college years come with decisions that are bigger, consequences that are deeper, and the hope and prayer that you instilled in them the love, principles and fortitude to get through the next decade—or should I say “phase”.
As I face this scary time of letting my kids grow and take risks, I find myself taking lots of deep breaths and reflecting on when they were little. The challenges we faced then seemed so overwhelming. I had no idea back then that potty training would be the easy part.
Not only is Mother’s Day around the corner, May 2nd was Jordan’s birthday. I feel compelled to remind everyone how precious life is and how important it is live it with passion.
Jordan Chiovarelli was one of those charismatic characters you couldn’t help but love. He was my daughter Harlie’s best friend. She adored him and he looked after her like a big brother. He was like a member of the family.
On Jordan’s last visit to Las Vegas he came to stay with us for a week. One night he and Harlie tried to convince my husband Jeff—who Jordan always called Pops—and I to go out with them. We said we were too old to hang with the twenty-something crowd, said we were too tired, said we had to go to work in the morning…but Jordan was having none of it. He was determined to drag Pops and me out on the town with them. He had a grin you couldn’t resist and a way of coaxing you into anything.
Just like Jordan convinced us to say yes that night, he always said yes to life. He loved to ride motorcycles and planned to open up a shop back in Long Island one day. He was an avid and talented competitive skier who traveled the world in pursuit of the sport that was his passion.
Jordan seemed invincible. And then early one morning the call came. Harlie on the other end of the phone telling me the unimaginable. Jordan had been killed in a motorcycle accident. That was impossible. He was so full of life.
My mind immediately flashed back to that night. I was so grateful he had convinced us to say yes. So grateful I didn’t miss out on creating those memories.
As a mother I can’t imagine anything more painful than having to bury a child. I think about his Mom every day.
In honor of her, please go hug your kids, let them know how much you love them. In honor of Jordan, go hug your Mom and let her know just how much you appreciate her, just like Jordan did. I know how much Jordan loved his Mom, Rita. In fact the last time he and Harlie were talking on the phone, he was cooking dinner for his Mom. That’s the kind of kid Jordan was.
A foundation has been established in Jordan’s honor to support the cause he was most passionate about. www.jordanchiovarellifoundation.org
This is the year I am going to stop fighting nature… I am apparently born to be a bad packer. I have spent a lifetime trying to master the art of packing. I really want to be one of those people who can show up with a small carry-on bag for a 5-day business trip. Alas, valiant efforts and hundreds of thousands of frequent-flier miles later, I am still a bad packer.
So I am surrendering! I am giving in to my bad packing ways. This year I am going to embrace my inner over-packing self. I am going to check in my luggage–filled with too many shoes and too many clothing options, and I am just going to relax and smile when they give me that judgmental look and tell me they need to weigh my bag. I am going to stop stressing out about trying to be a good packer and continue to over-pack—with abandon and joy!
Once I made this life-changing decision, the metaphorical weight of trying to be a good packer was lifted, and the literal weight of my suitcase increased. I am oh-so liberated! Now when I get my bag out to get ready for a trip, I no longer kid myself that this will be the trip I leave with only a carry-on bag. I no longer stress out about it, I simply pack what I want and stop worrying about it. Freedom!
It got me thinking about all of the things we continually try to change about ourselves. I have no doubt I lost months of my life while trying to blow-dry my naturally curly hair as a teenager back when Farah’s straight, smooth locks were all the rage.
What areas of your life could you just release and accept? Perhaps we should stop fighting our quirks and accept them as part of our endearing nature? What are you going to surrender to?
Am I the only one with a growing stack of receipts, credit card bills and IRS forms about to smother me? I think April 15th should be a national holiday—so we at least get a day off. Or maybe it should be April 16th so we can recover and lick our wounds!
Have you ever noticed Attorney, Accountant, and Agony all start with A? I am kidding…kidding!
I actually really like my accountant. (Craig, you know I adore you.) Yet, honestly I’d rather have a root canal than look at one more bank statement or fill out one more form!
Calling the IRS hotline feels like a set up, you get a different answer every time. I think I will fill out my tax return in pencil just in case…
I just heard that internet searches for “spring cleaning” are up over 183%. I am not surprised. I think a lot of us are ready for a fresh start. And our closet is a great place to begin!
I’m a gal that loves order and organization. The bliss of spring cleaning is not just about getting to organize our homes, but also donating the things we don’t need. I am a firm believer that by clearing out our excess we make room for more abundance. As we let go of the old, we open the door to receive the new. Try giving away things with an abundant attitude and watch what happens!
Whenever I clean out my closet I do so with a happy heart, because I know each and every piece of clothing and pair of shoes is going to be put to good use. No need to cringe when deciding whether or not to give up that perfectly new sweater you never wear.
Mother Nature knew what she was doing when she started the tradition of Spring-Cleaning! I challenge each of you to free yourself of old baggage—literally and figuratively—that may be hanging around in your closets. I promise you’ll find it liberating! Be sure to make plenty of room for all of the abundance heading your way!
In my home we frequently use the expressions, get an “app” for that, or we need an app for that. As an iphone loving family app’s are part of our vernacular. So when I got my own apps, it was VERY exciting!!! As far as my twenty-something kids were considered mama had finally hit the big leagues!
My Stepping Stones and Permission to Dream cards are now available for your phone! (Even if you don’t have an iphone)
They are now live in these app stores: iPhone App Store, Handango, BlackBerry App World, PocketGear, Handster and Android Marketplace. And, coming soon to Windows Market and select Wireless Operators (i.e. Virgin Mobile, Bell Mobility).
They say the first step is admitting you have a problem…My name is Lisa and I am a multi-tasker and I need help.
I have taken multi-tasking to new and embarrassing heights. The look on my daughter’s face when she walked into my bathroom recently and discovered me with a curling iron in one hand, the cell phone in the other and my laptop on the counter, let me know this was not normal. I guess most people aren’t doing their hair, reviewing spreadsheets and holding conference calls simultaneously—in the bathroom?
Women can do it all, and far too often we do. I have learned to delegate, learned to say no, I’m very organized, and yet I still find myself rushing all the time.
Can you relate?
Is there a rushing rehab? A retreat for multi-tasking mavens? Or do you just have to go cold turkey?
They say if you want something done, give to a busy woman. Well, let’s stop saying that!
I would like to publicly apologize to my Dad. You see back in the day, when I was growing up, I used to think it was down right cruel of my father to hide his stash of Pepsi from his kids—especially me!
He had gone so far at one point he actually started locking his favorite cereal and candy in a drawer in his filing cabinet. At the time I thought it bordered on child abuse. Now I think it was nothing short of the desperate act of a man simply trying to enjoy a cold soda.
Fast forward a few decades to my own desperate acts as a parent and you will find my own stashes hidden now too. Just the other day I literally laughed out loud as I reached for my stash of chocolate, popcorn and Diet Dr. Pepper. My Dad would be so proud. My hiding place not only has a lock—but a fridge!
The topic of sex came up with a group of friends discussing what was too racy or offensive to put in a gift book. The conversation made me once again grateful that the religion of my youth didn’t “take” and I was not only able to avoid a temple recommend but keep my libido!
It seems many, many women are struggling with the messages of their chaste upbringing and the desire to now have fulfilling sex lives with their husbands.
I had a friend who went to Catholic school and the nuns made sure that impure thoughts were beaten out of them – sometimes metaphorically, sometimes literally … with a ruler.
When another friend finally met the man of her dreams and got married, years of chastity training left lasting impressions. She adores her husband, but still finds it difficult to really enjoy sex. Her inhibitions make her anxious and nervous. What is natural to him seems distasteful to her. It’s not easy to transform from being the “good girl’” to the passionate woman.
How on earth are women who are taught to treat their bodies as temples supposed to transform into sex vixens overnight once they cross the threshold of holy matrimony?
“Sex is dirty – save it for someone you love.” That pretty much sums up the mixed messages many girls receive. Talk about confusing! What can Mother’s who are raising daughters now do to make sure they enjoy sex later?
According to Dr. Laura Berman, the talk shouldn’t only be about being moral and STD prevention and pregnancy. It’s also about empowerment—and Dr. Berman says the conversation needs to include pleasure. “You don’t want her to have sex right now. … But you eventually want her to have a fulfilling, happy, loving, intimate sex life,” she says. “When the time comes, she’s that much more likely to make those healthy decisions since she feels good about who she is as a sexual person and not just give away that gift to anybody—the first time or any time.”
As for adults, perhaps its time to leave the mixed messages behind and follow the sentiment of Mae West who famously said, “When I’m good I’m very, very good but when I’m bad I’m better.”
The other day I was searching all over my house for a certificate I needed to find. It was an important document so I thought it might be in the safe. Yet as I started pulling everything out of the safe, I had to laugh. What is in my safe wasn’t legal papers or fancy jewelry. My safe is filled with photo albums and old home movies.
It’s something my husband has teased me about for years. We have ended up with bigger and bigger safes so I could fit more and more pictures and things of sentimental value—not monetary value, but irreplaceable items.
So as I searched for this document, which alas wasn’t in the safe, I had the pleasure of looking at old photos and flipping through the pages of baby books and such. I spent time enjoying one of my most cherished gifts, a scrapbook my sister Diane gave me years ago with a collection of stories and letters she gathered from some of my family members.
The things in my safe are the items I most treasure and want to protect. For those are the things that represent what truly matter to me.
They say don’t sweat the small stuff, but maybe it is the small stuff that actually matters.
I have been thinking about all of the weight we give to the big decisions in life. How much pressure we place on ourselves to make the right choices when it comes to deciding on a career path, buying a car, picking a place to live, whether or not to keep this job or that.
Think of all of the time and energy you put into the big decisions in your life…
Yet we virtually ignore the small decisions in our lives. We hardly give a second thought to all of the tiny matters throughout the day. Whether or not to stop on our way to work for that $5 cup of coffee, to eat or not to eat that second chocolate chip cookie, to use the treadmill for a workout vs. a clothes hanger, whether or not to buy just one more tube of lipstick while we grab that loaf of bread.
Maybe the decisions we aren’t making are the very ones that are deciding the true direction our lives take…
Many people ask me how I got the money to start Femail Creations. It pretty much came down to French fries. When I say that people look at me like I am crazy. But it was the simple choices, like giving up fast food and going to the movies twenty years ago that allowed us to save every penny we could toward the down payment on our first home. And it was ultimately mortgaging our house many times over that allowed me to get Femail Creations off the ground over a decade ago.
Small decisions lead to big dreams. Sometimes it is as simple as skipping that side order–and believe me that was the true definition of delayed gratification for a girl addicted to French fries!
More and more I have come to believe it is actually the small seemingly inconsequential decisions that are making up the fabric of our lives.
Recently I have been facing a lot of big decisions and today I remembered, it’s the small stuff that matters, always has been, always will be.
I am a big fan of Life Lists. My kids are always teasing me saying, “is that on the LL Mom?” That is how often I refer to my Life List!
The start of a New Year—and in this case a New Decade—is the perfect time to create or add to your Life List.
Some of the items I got to cross off my Life List in 2009 were driving up the California coast from Santa Barbra to San Francisco, writing another book, golfing 18 holes (even if it was 9 at a time), rowing, getting my friends to visit my favorite island, and stand up paddle boarding (much harder than it looks!)
One of the most fun things I did last summer was take a long weekend with my girl friends to Catalina Island. It was our annual Girls Trip and this year was extra special because one of my friends crossed something off her Bucket List—she finally went Parasailing!!! And I got to be there to witness it all. That is almost as much fun as crossing something off your own list!
It seems that we are being given reminders in both large global ways in small personal ways not to take life for granted. This year I hope we take that message to heart. Find the time, speak your love often, mend a quarrel, keep a promise, welcome a stranger.
Let’s begin this year by reflecting about the changes we want to see and then putting our intentions into action. The way we spend our time is ultimately the way we spend our lives. Devote your time and energy this year to what really matters.
What do you always think about doing, but don’t actually do?
What does your heart desire? Have you always wanted to run a marathon, take a trip to the land of your ancestors, take a photography class, learn to speak another language, plant a garden, write your history, or volunteer at a local charity?
Commit to making this be the year we actually do it! The reality is we make time for whatever is really important to us. If it is truly a priority we find, we carve out, we create the time.
It is my tradition on each New Year’s Eve to make a list of everything I want to release from the year—and burn it. It’s may way of making sure I let go whatever isn’t working for me so I can head into a New Year with a clean slate and a fresh start.
Some years my list makes it’s way to the fireplace, some years we have had a fire pit in the back yard, and some years I am lucky enough to be at the beach with a bon fire.
It’s liberating to throw your list into the fire! Try it!
I am hearing from more and more of you, and after a chat with my friend Ranae, it is becoming quite clear that this is the summer adult children are descending upon us like locus. Maybe they arrived back home because they could no longer afford rent, maybe they lost their job and had to return to the nest, perhaps they just graduated from college only to discover their degree isn’t going to help land the job they had hoped for in this challenging economy, or maybe they are just home for the summer between semesters? Whatever the reason may be, more and more adult children are living at home these days.
two’s, but I didn’t hear much about the joys the transitional twenties.
Pepper. My Dad would be so proud. My hiding place not only has a lock—but a fridge!
Sometimes it is as simple as skipping that side order–and believe me that was the true definition of delayed gratification for a girl addicted to French fries!
