Time-Change and the Power of Perspective

trees Why is the Spring Forward time-change so hard? It was like waking the dead this morning. And it’s only an hour difference. I think perspective could go a long way to help my sleepy-heads (and me!) Really. Because truth be told, if we lost an hour and due to a nice trip to the mountains – we wouldn’t feel it much. It would be the best lost-hour ever – a vehicle sending us to slush down the snowy slopes instead of a tool of torture dragging us in a catatonic state to the car; gleeful giggling instead of moaning, struggling, complaining: “The sun isn’t even up!!” (The sun had risen – but clearly not when they woke up.) Enter Stage Left: Sunshine Mom “Quit complaining. Look a the bright side! And rather than let the lost hour put you in a sleep-deprived funk, force your thoughts to see the good. [sidenote: I’m not quite sure

Regular in a High Octane World

high-octaine “How was the basketball game?” I ask Jack – whose name probably needs to be aliased since he is getting old enough to be aware. “Not good,” he answered. “What?” I was surprised. He has so much fun running around, shooting for the hoop and hanging out with his friends. “You love basketball.” “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I just didn’t get to sit on the bench enough.” Oh my word. Apparently, he enjoys the experience a lot more than the competition. He’s never had much interest in intense (if you can call 3rd grade anything intense.) This kid – he basically enjoys life. Things that distract from life-enjoyment can be frustrating to him. He likes to ponder and experience people/places/things. Slow and steady set his pace. The striving part of life is a give or take for him. Don’t get me wrong; he enjoys

Something to Talk About

A Great Big World - Say Something Album artwork A Great Big World – Say Something Album artwork Walking by a hearse with a teenage daughter isn’t on my Top Ten list of things I’d like to do. Sitting next to a teenage daughter at the end of a row of her grieving friends, struggling with disbelief, in a sanctuary anchored by a simple casket – not on that list either. Especially when that casket holds the lifeless body of their friend. That was yesterday [really, Tuesday]. So please bear with me as I briefly grapple. Because I’m sad. Sad for those kids. Sad for my daughter. Deeply, so deeply, grieved for the family. So very sad for her. And I’m mad. I’ve started and stopped this post over a dozen times. But I wanted to write because I feel like something needs to be said; but words are really hard to find. Within the span of one-week two teenage kids in our neck of

Eyes on 2016

Christmas Card 2015 My road – the one paved with good intentions – never ceases to be plagued by detours. And detours can be distracting. Distracting and deflating. Mostly due to focus issues that can arise while on life’s little detours. Because detours can tempt our focus to settle on all that hasn’t gotten done, rather than seeing all good comes with side-roads. Over the last couple of weeks, several of the things I had great intentions to get done didn’t. I had great intentions to finish posting on hydrating for the holidays. I wanted to share about the joys/freedom of: Pop-up-invites. I lived out the beauty of relative-spontaneity when I invited a group of gals with whom I regularly meet to pop by for “coffee & tiny bites” (I wanted to be sure to set the menu bar low). But I had no idea of how low it would
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