Welcome, Sweet Dog

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

Welcome, sweet dog.
We've waited patiently for you
and now that you're here
our house feels just right.

We've all needed your
unconditional love, butt wiggles
and playful boxing capabilities.
We just didn't know how much until now.

Our grief over losing Molly
is safely tucked away,
but not forgotten.
An ache we will revisit from time to time.

But you're here!
With energy!
With sweetness!
With us!

Today is going to be awesome.

Now

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

What is it all really about?  This life?  Family connections?  The stuff we acquire and then purge from our lives?

I feel like there are so many lessons in every day living and, to be quite honest, I don't think I've given much thought to them until I entered my fourth decade.  Before turning 40, I just lived my life without much examination.  Or, at least, it feels that way.

Having a child brings so many situations circling back to you to think about.  Parenthood is like this big mirror and you can either look away and start fresh with your views or take a minute and examine what's in front of you.  What are you bringing to the parenting table from your past?

As my son navigates his pre-teen years, it's becoming more clear to me that I'm parenting from a standpoint of been there, done that.  And I should quickly confess that it's easy right now.  I'm not gloating, but taking a moment to really let that sink in.  I know that hard stuff is coming and I'm trying to relish in the now.

Now he likes to spend the weekends with us.

Now is when he wants to watch silly DVDs and read books about Greek Gods & Goddesses.

Now the library is one of his favorite places to visit and grab a frozen yogurt and talk about his day.

Right now the wildest thing he wants to do is wear the same thing every. single. day.  But even that is morphing as of this week.  He finally relinquished his grey hoodie sweatshirt and I could not be happier.

Now he wants to share his art and play on his iPad.

Now is the time he practices his trumpet in his room before school.

I'm loving right now and feeling confident in my parenting.  I know that whatever the future holds, I'll be ready and until then?

I'm enjoying the now, too.

Time [6th grade version]

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

The days are slipping by so fast.

Yesterday the boy got his first pair of eyeglasses.

Today he had his hair lopped off and he looks a little like Eddie Redmayne.

Tomorrow we get a family dog.

Spring break is the week after next.

One more quarter left of sixth grade.

One more quarter left until I start Summer school.

One month until G turns 12.

He turned in his report on the Hindu Holy Trinity this week; tennis lessons; science test; and I finally let him play around with an Instagram account.

How did this happen?

The painful colic, the skinned knees?

His dressing up and acting like a dog?  Long gone, I tell you.

Typing up papers on his own computer.

Picking out brand name t-shirts so he can give the appearance of cool and to help offset the glasses mentioned above.

The mirrors.  Oh, the looking in the mirrors business is at an all time high. The self-awareness kicking into high gear.

All of this wonderful.

All of this hurts a little bit, but then smooths out into mama pride and acknowledgment of his next phase.

And the love.  The overpowering, all encompassing love I feel for this little human; this life.

Nothing quite like it.

Mornings

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

My mind wakes up before my body is ready.  To-do lists are drafted in my head before my feet even touch the cool wood floors.  My bare feet shuffle across those worn Douglas fir planks and head toward the living room.  I click on my desk lamp, open my computer and then take a few steps to the left to stretch my body and absorb the view before me.  

Some mornings I greet the dark and other mornings I greet the sunrise.  It makes no difference to me what kind of view is out there, I'm just happy to meet the day at its inception.  Something about this small act of taking the time to recognize the start of a new day centers me, grounds me.

Quiet blankets my home.  I rub my son's back and kiss his forehead.  This is round one of trying to get him out of bed.  My husband, the night owl, is still in bed and I gently close the bedroom door so he can rest a little longer.  

I set about making the morning coffee and take pleasure in this simple morning ritual.  Grinding the beans, filling the tank with filtered water and pressing the start button.

The day can now begin.

back to school

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

I'm reading the iconic The Elements of Style Illustrated by Strunk & White & Kalman  and all I can say is - it's about time.  This is the back-to-the-basics, definitive guide for writing.  I ordered the updated version featuring Maira Kalman's illustrations and it's so gorgeous.  She's one of my all-time favorites illustrators.

I have a lot to learn in terms of sentence and paragraph structure and the do's and don't of writing.  This will be a good first step.

In other news, I registered and signed up to return to college today!  I'm working on getting over myself on a lot of matters that hold me back in living a fuller life.  I'm embarrassed that I never finished, quitting when I received my first-ever letter grade "D" in a sociology class.  Good grades came easily to me during my earlier school years and I was in no way prepared for college.  Instead, I took the easy way out after a full year at the J.C. and went to work in a law firm.

In fact, working in a law office was my sole line of work until I was 32 years old (minus the two weeks I worked at 31 Flavors, but that is an entirely different story).

On my 16th birthday, I was hired at a small law firm and worked as a part-time receptionist and file clerk after school.  This was a dream job to this Virgo who had a boyfriend at the time.  Organizing paperwork and I didn't have to work nights or weekends?  Sign me up!  My parents encouraged me to keep this "good job with benefits" and school fell down on the priority list.  It's kind of haunted me ever since.  I've worked half of my life for law firms answering phones, processing client billings, filing and, in the end, supporting two attorneys who also became dear friends.

In the end, I left that clerical life with a lot of knowledge about filing forms with the courthouse, editing and re-typing loan documents and ran towards the chance to run my own small business in the tiny hamlet of Bodega Bay.

I'm tired of thinking I can't go back to school.  I'm following through on this and showing myself, as well as my guys, that I can do hard things.

When I shared this news with my son, he didn't skip a beat and asked "So, are you going to study art?"

Why, yes.

Yes, I am.

Bandaid

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

I realized tonight that one year ago, on the eve of my mother's birthday, my first essay was published over at Mamalode.com.  Setting those words free and sharing them with the world was like ripping off my creative bandaid.  It hurt a little, but my artistic tendencies needed an outlet and it felt so good to have a way to express the feelings that had been bottled up for so long inside of me.

Ever since that nerve-wracking day, so much has happened.  I poured myself into different means of artistic expression that ended up bringing me so much unexpected joy - pens, good paper, watercolor and hand lettering.  Accepting my imperfect handwriting as an art form brought me a satisfaction that surprised and delighted me.  My imperfections could be celebrated and even appreciated for what they were - perfectly imperfect.

I put things into motion and tried them on for size.  Writing retreats, art workshops and a trip to the edge of the continent in Homer, Alaska fueled my need to make art.  Stories, poems and illustrations became the way I communicated my feelings and, as a result, I wanted to set them free and share with others any way that I could.

The Mamalode essay, Snap, was just the beginning for me.  There's a lot more hidden deep in dark within me that I need to turn into something beautiful.

One bandaid at a time…

Born Again

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

I once questioned a mormon missionary about why mormons don't use the phrase "born again."  The missionary simply stated that being "born again" was viewed as a process, not an event.

A process.  Not an event.

What a powerful and wise statement, right?

At the time, I wrote those words down on an index card and stuck it in my brand new bible.  I recently came across that 24-year old card and pulled it out to read.  I decided to use it as a bookmark.  It's since become a little mantra.

This weekend was spent heating kettles of hot water for tea, stoking fires and spilling the truth about a great many things to my best friend of 25 years.  Truths that had mostly been said only in my mind and not out loud.  At first, I parsed them out slowly and carefully, but by the end of our days together I felt the urgency to unleash them before it was too late.  Too late for what?  I'm not sure.

Truth telling doesn't come easily to me.  I'm often scared of how it will be received, how it will land.  I'm fearful of the fallout - knowing full well a lot of this fear is manufactured and adjusted to assist in keeping my secrets safe, guarded.

I found freedom in saying hard words and thoughts and confessions out loud.  I wrote down things that I wanted to be free of and wrote, in capital letters, the word GUILT and centered it in the middle of the page.  I read my list of shame and guilt to my friend, my witness.  I vowed to be free and move forward and to rid myself of the self-hatred.  I no longer want to operate from that place.

I positioned that ugly piece of paper on top of the small stack of burning firewood and bid it farewell.  I shut the doors on the wood stove and sunk into the couch and watched it burn and then double-checked the ashes to make sure nothing remained.

I felt born again.

for better or worse

[Us circa 1998]

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

for better or worse

that’s what we said 

oh so many years ago

when we didn’t know about 

the trappings of marriage

we now move through it all

sharing the roles we were made for

dividing duties

like seasoned pros

making lunches

reading bedtime stories

school pick-up

paying the bills

your stellar knowledge

of math & science

make me glad you’re the 

partner I picked to parent with

it doesn’t sound romantic

but, really, it is

how much we come together

to make this life work

our schedules synced

our mornings hum

our evening dinners

our days recapped

it’s not how i imagined it to be

when we said “i do”

but i think it’s so much

better, not worse

my life in metaphors, lately

My Mom & Dad circa 1969

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

I'm constantly thinking in metaphors ever since I stopped drinking.  As I prepared for my girls'  weekend, I found myself in my head quite a bit.  Normally, I would be packing my personal nine-bottle wine tote and filling it with special wines or the fixings for special martinis.

Instead, I packed up a box of assorted tea bags.

The weight of this intention was both heavy and light.

+++++

For the past 17 years, I've been wearing earrings that my mother gifted me when I was 27 years old and freshly divorced from my own first husband.  At the time, I appreciated the symbolism and sentiment.  They were made from two small diamonds that were once part of her wedding ring, from her first marriage to my father.

I've worn them every day since she gave them to me for Christmas back in 1997.  I took them off a few weeks ago and carefully set them in my jewelry box.  I said a little prayer for them and hoped the bad juju that I think they hold will wear off and be absorbed by the green felt lining of that little drawer.

The symbolism of this gesture was heavy on my heart, but I've felt about 10 pounds lighter ever since I shut that little drawer.

+++++

Waking up clear headed, instead of foggy and slow is new and, happily, preferred.  When the fog is rolling in over the hillsides, I'm reminded of how I used to feel.  Blanketed by regret or loss.  My heart cloaked in a thick sadness that is hard to share with anyone.

The beautiful revelation about fog is that it sweeps over the landscape only for a little while and then slowly lifts and retreats.  The world them seems open to me and I can feel the sunshine on my face.

The grey fog and the warm sunshine work together, in tandem, to help center me and start a new day.

The soupy fog symbolized my heavy feelings, but when it lifts I feel the weight of my burdens and thoughts rise up and leave me.  When they settle back down inside of me, they will be lighter after their journey.

my mind is packed

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

These six-minute quick writes are supposed to be just that.  Quick.  Only six minutes out of my day and somehow I couldn't find the time to do this today.

Starting the day off by waking up late didn't help, but I tried to salvage this mishap with making a healthy juice for all of us and joining my girlfriends for a barre exercise class in Santa Rosa, 30 minutes northwest of my home, starting at 9:15 a.m.

The camaraderie of those ladies helped jolt me from my morning funk and I easily fell into the sadist exercise regime also known as barre class.

The rest of the day was filled with work, doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, a makeshift dinner, homework help and packing for my impending Big Sur trip.  Just normal, everyday life items to tick off my list today.  I felt productive.  I felt a wee bit rushed.  I felt anxious about leaving my family for four days.

After tucking my son in bed and kissing him goodnight, I settled into the couch with my husband to watch a movie.

I felt nervous about leaving.

I felt nervous about meeting up with my best friend.

I felt nervous about not drinking this weekend.

I felt all of it.

All. Of. It.

I went to bed making small talk with myself about my strength, my impending journey.  My newfound ability to do small things for myself that will help me heal and make better choices for my mind, body and family.

My bags are packed and, now, so is my mind

the fog

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment

 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

the fog,
thick and pixelated,
blankets the world
just outside my window.

dewy, wet branches
breathe a heavy sigh
as the sun fights to emerge
through the slate-colored sky.

the sun surrenders.
grey wins.
the dampness is absorbed
by the ground, the air, the day

melancholy fills the ether,
sadness takes up residence,
reminding us to sink
into ourselves and feel

the fringe of darkness
just beneath the surface
of our body, our mind

with tendrils of love
and acceptance
gently traveling down
to the soles of our feet

we remind the darkness -
we are rooted,
we are strong,
we are loved; and
soon we are going to

shine.

The Door to Independence

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment
 of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.  
I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

Yesterday I caught a glimpse of the teenager that my son will be in a few years.  He glared at me, barked something about how I ruined his perfectly good day by enforcing trumpet practice and threw his prepubescent body on top of his bed and laid there in silent protest.

I walked away.

Took a few deep breaths and quietly chuckled to myself while chopping root vegetables that he will most likely push around on his plate during dinner.

It's coming.

He's almost 12 and the increased attitude and shift in him is happening right before my eyes.  Everyday he is recalibrating himself towards the man he will one day be.  Ratcheting up his opinions and pushing back when he doesn't want to do what we want him to do.  Forming opinions and testing limits.

I realize he's taking baby steps towards a great big door called Independence.  Leaving his mark and trying new things on for size are what's happening right now.  I'm here, not too far behind him, making sure he doesn't wobble too much or fall over.  Supporting him, acting as cheerleader and disciplinarian at the same time, has been my occupation for almost a dozen years.  I'm slowly starting to understand that right now he will need to scrape his knees a bit and brush himself off without me.  I know this is all normal and completely to be expected, but it's my first time, as well as my last time, going through this new phase with my only child.

The door to Independence is unlocked and ajar and he's approaching it with great speed.

I just know the man that will emerge on the other side is one I will be proud of.  However, I feel a weight of responsibility in making sure he has the necessary tools available to him to help open that door with strength of character and knowledge that he is loved by us.

I just wish he would take it a little slower.

Sleepless in Valley Ford

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.
I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

Sleep has eluded me, once again, and I wake up groggy and congested.  I feel like I have a hangover, but I know that isn't possible this morning.  Since my breakup with alcohol, I've been sleeping through the night and rise early feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day.  I'm intoxicated in a different way these days - by my newfound strength, the beauty of the natural world and watching my son navigate the end of his 11th year.

I'm not sure how or why I fell down the rabbit hole of insomnia last night, but I did.  The middle of the night used to be the time rewind the day and then beat myself up about all the things I did wrong or mourn the family (the family I came from) that once was.

Nighttime fostered a loneliness in me and I think that's why I overindulged with wine and spirits.  The void-filling seemed like a necessary task to get to the other side of the darkness, the sadness.  I'm sure on the outside people might think what does she have to be sad about?, but it's there.  Always.  I have a deep well of memories that haunt me when it's quiet and I'm left with too much time to think about how my life slowly veered off course once my parents got divorced.

I was 23 when my parents split up and it completely rocked my world.  When I looked back at my formative years, I desperately longed for the family that was.  What better way to capture that family than to hurry up and try to recreate one of my own, right?  Wrong.

Well, I immediately went out and tried to do just that.  I was engaged after just three months of knowing someone and married three months after that.  Played house for four years, devoted myself to church and emulating Martha Stewart.  I didn't drink at all during this time in my life.  I was divorced four years later.

After my divorce, letting loose and being the life of the party became my way of thinking I was all grown up and in charge of my life.

Ironically, my parents never had alcohol in our home and I only saw them drink once or twice while growing up, so I'm not sure where I got this ridiculous idea.

I guess I'll have this idea to ponder in the middle of the night the next time I'm sleepless in Valley Ford.

haiku :: country alarm clock

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

haiku :: country alarm clock

turkey gobbles serve
as my morning alarm clock.
no-snooze button found.

the uniform

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

the uniform (of my 11 year old boy)

what he wears:
black denim jeans, ripped at the knee
high top vans
black leather belt
mid-calf length colorful socks
any t-shirt he an grab off the shelf
grey & burgundy hooded pullover sweatshirt w/ VANS logo on the front
a hat (beanie or baseball variety)
the occasional necklace
sandy blonde hair swept across his forehead

what he carries on the outside:
cherry red & turquoise backpack
a banged up water bottle
green striped lunch bag
trumpet case
tennis racket
sports bag
a good book

what he carries on the inside:
comfort from this shield of an outfit
not too cool, not too nerdy
the knowledge that his mom doesn't dress him anymore
"i don't have time to think about clothes too much"
dressing is so easy, why do girls change clothes so much?

Shed [update]

Our funky little pink art studio

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

Shed.

Shed is the word I chose to focus on in 2015 and boy have I been shedding some stuff!

In January I focused on shedding excess from my home.  I participated in Apartment Therapy's January Cure and got really into it.  I purged spice cabinets and organized utensil drawers.  We sold our bed frame and acquired a storage bed from Craig's List.  Clothing, kitchenware and unread books were sent to the thrift stores and local library.

February has been for shedding old habits.  I gave up drinking and wheat, both huge challenges for me.  I'm discovering that I'm also shedding some old preconceived notions about spirituality and judgments of others while I'm on this journey.  Hopefully, all of the shedding will equal a few less pounds on this body - but that's not the point of my alcohol and wheat abstinence - it would be a welcome byproduct though.

Yesterday my old oven range was laid to rest and a new range installed in its place.  My oven had been dying a slow death ever since Thanksgiving and we stretched out it's demise as long as we could.  It felt good to say goodbye to the range that came with our house and usher in the new, stainless steal beauty that now sits in its place.

March will also see another huge appliance leave our kitchen - the clunky, old, white fridge that was here when we bought the place over eight years ago.  It's a total energy suck and on its last leg, as well.

There is something strangely intoxicating (to me) about taking stock of what we have accumulated over the years and being ready to say goodbye to them.

I feel pleased with the process of thinking about objects and finding new homes for them.

I feel stronger as I'm adopting new habits and rituals of my own making.

I feel like I can finally roast some freaking vegetables without it taking seven hours!

Shedding ideas, thoughts, habits, tangible items is my new thing.

I feel lighter already.

Months, Not Days

{1.0 micron pen on paper 2015}

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about the way I have been describing my current break-up with alcohol.  Yesterday I hit the one-month milestone for not drinking.  I was using the new-to-me language of counting dry days and celebrating my first alcohol-free month milestone with some trepidation, coupled with feelings of shame.  Somehow my good intentions were starting to feel like deprivation and that, in turn, started to feel negative.

Instead, I decided that I want to focus on more mindful practices surrounding my drinking habits and what I'm choosing to do for myself that comes from a place of positivity, truth and clean living.  As of right now, I have no plans to return to imbibing full-bodied reds or artisan cocktails.  I reserve the right to change my mind, but as of right now I'm done.

I'm not jonesing for alcohol first thing in the morning or going off to sneak a drink.  That's not the relationship I've had with alcohol.  My relationship has been one of overindulgence once I start; the mantra that one more is more fun;  pouring drinks was my chosen profession for six years and I absolutely love to top off a glass of wine and use my martini shaker; and, an empty glass has symbolized the end of a good time (in my mind, at least).  I'm a social drinker and I've chosen to be social for years.  Eighteen to be exact.

So, I'm choosing to switch up the language I'm using and focus on the new positive aspects I'm adopting into my life.  Diet, exercise and a full night's sleep has definitely changed how I feel and I feel clearer and more free than I have in a long time.

Some may think this is evidence of denial or that I'm replacing a bad habit with another (although healthier) habit - but guess what?  I really don't care!  Isn't that fun?  For the first time in years, I really don't care what anyone else thinks about this topic.  If anything, I'm finding strength in believing in myself.  It's a journey, I know, but one I'm super excited to be on.

About half a dozen people have reached out through social media and emails to support me in this new phase of omitting alcohol from my life and to them I'd like to say a gigantic, heartfelt thank you.  Those two words don't seem like enough to let them know how much comfort I've taken from their stories, from their own struggles.  But it's all I've got to give right now.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Your words, stories and shared experiences have been like a salve this month and I'll be eternally grateful for your bravery in reaching out to me.

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

Today is a new day.

I've decided I'm not counting dry days any longer.  Maybe I'll tally up months, but not days.  The counting of days feels like a hard, punitive (albeit self-imposed) sentence and it's left me feeling deprived and restricted.

Today is for living.

Today is for forgiving - myself + others.

Today is for showing up and doing the work.

Today is my favorite day.

Conscious Relationships

{One year ago today :: March 3, 2014 :: Costa Rica}

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

We live in a small town (population 126).  The reason I'm sharing this with you is to give you a little background about our crummy internet service.  It has been unreliable and measured since we moved here over seven years ago.  Watching videos or looking at too many image-rich sites can time us out and use up all of our daily internet allowance.  Since my husband works from home and I'm addicted to interior design websites, this can be a problem at times.

This used to frustrate me to no end and over the years we have changed internet providers, tried different satellite services and accepted the fact that cable internet will never be available to us in our one-horse town.  We recently switched to Verizon's satellite internet service home plan and that's tacked on to our cell phone bill.  So far, so good.  

Blah, blah, blah.  My point is that a friend sent me this Youtube video featuring Rev. Deborah L. Johnson and asked me to watch it.  Since I live where I do, I needed to watch this somewhere other than my home; somewhere that actually seems like it's in the year 2015.  The video sat unwatched in my inbox for a few weeks, beckoning me to hurry up and seek out a fast internet connection and find out what all the fuss was about.

This video is about conscious relationships and it's a huge game-changer.  

Needless to say, once I finally sat down and clicked play, this video blew my freaking mind.

I paused it.

Took notes.

Shared it with a few friends.

And now I can't wait to watch it again.

If you watch it, let me know what you think.  Don't be in a hurry or have other things going on.  Just grab a cup of coffee or tea and really let her words sink in.  It's approximately 45 minutes long.

Powerful stuff.

Proof of Life

{2010}

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

The sliding glass door shuts and I'm left alone.  The morning routines have been carried out, coffee made and a load of laundry sits on the floor waiting to be loaded into the washer.

I've scribbled in my food journal, drawn lines in my art journal and now I'm here in front of this bright-white screen.  Not sure of what to say today and know that I run the risk of feeling like a broken record.  I'm only two days into this six minute daily exercise of jotting down words here on my blog and it feels weird, forced, unnatural.

Do you ever feel like you have so many things to do in one day that you don't know where to begin?  I feel it every day lately.  My creative pursuits used to be the items that fell to the bottom of the list and slowly, but surely, they have risen to the top.  I wake early to ensure time for these pursuits.  They are now the first things I tend to once I wake up and shuffle into the living room and take a seat at my desk.

Documenting our days, making marks on a page, taking photos - those are all ways for me to try and capture this time in our lives.  I feel a sense of duty to preserve our life in a way that will feel good for us to revisit later on down the line.  Not to be mistaken with making it picture-perfect, but just to have something to look back on and help assist with our foggy memories as we get older.

Proof of life.  I think that's the phrase that resonates with me.

Proof of this life.

Our life.

My life.

I'm a Believer

{This series was inspired by my son's sixth grade english assignment 

of writing for six minutes, without edits or overthinking it.

I'll be posting daily quick writes for the month of March.}

Mornings are my new favorite.  The house is quiet.  The world seems still.  My thoughts are slowly forming and making a plan for the day.  The sun rising across the valley floor somehow always delights me.  Every morning it's a different sunrise and a beautiful reminder that today can be a different day, too.

I shared in my last post that I've put drinking on hold.  I'm trying to form new, healthier habits like drinking tea, juicing an obscene amount of vegetables and exercising.  I'm 27 days in and feeling really positive and energized by these conscious choices.

The byproduct of my actions has been a feeling of safety.  Meaning, I feel safe to feel and think all of the things that are going through my mind right now.  I'm not wanting to tune out or retreat with a drink at the end of the night, so that I don't have to concentrate on the hard stuff.

I also have the best of friends and feel really supported by those I've shared my struggles with.  I'm not attending AA meetings or anything like that.  I don't think it's to that level, but I do think that I am not mindful when I drink.  Not at all and so I need this break to contemplate my relationship with alcohol.

I woke up this morning and realized it's my half birthday.  I'm forty-four and a half years old today and it's about time I started believing in myself.  I'm not sure when that ability disappeared, but I'm here to reclaim it.

This song helped me start my Sunday and I hope you enjoy it, too.

Rituals :: Writing + Drinking

As February is winding down, I realize that I haven't come to this space to write much this month.  To be perfectly honest, I have a hard time sitting down and sharing what's on my mind.  Part of me feels like who would want to read that?  While the other part of me knows just how much I get out of reading the work of other bloggers/writers and gleaning advice or shared experiences from their generous words.

I've been reading a lot of books about the craft of writing (like this one, this one and this one) and figured out that most writers are a little gun shy when they share their words with the world.  Also, editors are key.  When I write, I worry so much about the punctuation and structure of my blog posts that they end up taking me hours to write.  I'm my worst critic and I'm also a little bit afraid to be judged by what I'm putting out there.

Last week, my son shared some of his best work (according to him) from his sixth grade english class.  His favorite writing exercise is called a Six Minute Quick Write.  You sit down, set the timer and write whatever you want, quickly and fluidly, until the six minutes is up.  He stressed that you can finish your last sentence, but don't edit while you're writing.  Just write.

I love this quick write concept.  Aren't sixth grade english teachers the best?  Here's what he had to say about it:

"I know that Quick Writes aren't graded, but I really like them because they are a time to say how you feel about a certain topic and clear your mind.  I think they are a really good way to start your morning." - Grady, age 11

Gosh, I love this kid.  And his teacher really inspires him.  

Well this inspired me in a big way.  Therefore, I'm going to jump right in and attempt daily quick writes on my blog starting on March 1st.  No editing, no struggling with formatting, no photo collages or time spent editing photos.  Just me, sitting at my desk first thing in the morning and typing for six minutes.  I'm not going to overthink it.  I'm just going to write whatever is on my mind and hit publish.  I'm looking forward to this new daily ritual and hope it stretches me when it comes to writing (and sharing) on this blog.

February in Sonoma County means that everything is coming into bloom.  The magnolia tree branches are heavy and dripping with pink blossoms, daffodils line the roadsides and wide-open fields are a sea of yellow mustard.  Buds are breaking in the vineyards and camellia flowers litter the walkway into my office.  Hardy calla lilies shoot up overnight in my flower beds and the hillsides are thick and limber with fluorescent green grasses.

I love January for its quiet approval to hibernate, but I love February for it's unabashed beauty and reminder that, well, we have a long year ahead of us and I, too, want to bloom this year.  I like to take this time to plan out family vacations, read as much as humanly possible, hunker down and binge-watch tv series with my husband during this second month of the year.

Redhill Trail || Sonoma Coast || Valentine's Day || 73 degrees

February has also held a new focus for me.  My health.  I'm working on instituting a consistent exercise regime into my weekly routine.  Early morning stretching and occasional meditation, Zumba classes and local hikes.  

I've chosen to abstain from alcohol indefinitely.  

Let me say that again, so that it can sink in.

I've chosen to abstain from alcohol indefinitely.  

And while writing about this feels a little weird, I also want to be honest with myself and anyone reading here about how hard this actually is.  I haven't gone this long without drinking since I was pregnant with my son 12 years ago.  I used to own a wine bar and drinking was part of my profession.  I've been reading a lot of this woman's blog posts about her wine-free journey and it's been a powerful source of inspiration.  

I'm an all or nothing type of gal and I have long searched for balance in the adult beverage department.  I feel like I've tried the all model  and need to try the nothing model on for size.  And let's face it, I'm not getting any younger.  I can't keep indulging in wine and cocktails at no cost.  I have several health issues I'm working on getting under control and the simple fact of the matter is that drinking is not helping.

I haven't been a mindful drinker since I started drinking.  All or nothing may be considered the same thing to some, but I've got to give it a try and find out.

I can do this.  

I am doing this.  

I'm on Day 20 of my self-imposed alcohol ban and I feel really, really good about it.  

The positive take-aways have been that I'm finally sleeping through the night for the first time in years.  I have considerably more patience for my kid, my husband and everyday frustrations.  I've been waking up early and starting my day with quiet reflection and writing down my intentions for the next 24 hours.  

Addiction runs in my family and I just need to hit the pause button long enough for me to ponder why it is I like to drink.  It's hard to put this out there, but I know I need to do it to make myself accountable for this overindulgent habit I've curated over the years.  Living in wine country has been good and bad for me.  It's time to take stock of how I socialize and what's most important to me.

And with these soul-baring words, I'm going to switch gears.  I've said a lot here and I'm feeling really anxious about my new journey.  Thanks for listening.

I wanted to thank you for your kind words on my recently published essay, The Window for Play, featured on Rachel Cedar's 28 Day of Play blogger series.  Click here to read.  That piece was hard to write, but I'm glad it resonated with others.  I felt hugged by the comments and encouraged to do more truth-telling with my writing.

My new daily rituals of writing, as well as abstaining from alcohol, feel a little scary.  But I'm going to push forward and try it on for size.  As my clean & sober brother recently shared with me - The only side effect of not drinking is that you will feel really good.  What's so scary about that?  

Right, brother.  So right.

And with that - I'm out.  

xoxo,

Tammi

28 Days of Play :: The Window for Play

My essay, The Window for Play, can be found over at You Plus Two Parenting's website.  I am the featured blogger today in the 28 Days of Play blogger series that focuses on play with our children.

I spent a lot of time reflecting on my early role as a mother and how I slowly figured things out.  Please hop on over here and read.  I'd love to hear your thoughts and keep the dialogue open about the hard parts of motherhood, as well as the good parts.

Happy Friday, friends.

Apartment Therapy's January Cure :: Part Two

When I cannot bear outer pressures anymore, 

I begin to put order in my belongings…

As if unable to control my life, 

I seek to exert this on the world of objects.  

Anaïs Nin 

As the month of January came to an end, my list of projects for Apartment Therapy's January Cure had many lines drawn through it.   Items big and small were crossed off, a highlighter drawn over priority to do items and margin notes with measurements or notes to self for future plans.

A lot was accomplished and a lot more still needs to be done.  It was a great way start to the new year.

Grady's Room
My son's bedroom was the least of my worries this year.  That's not to say it flew under the radar during this round of the Cure, but it's good enough for now.  We purged three tsotchke shelves, tidied up his closet, purged his shoe collection, cleared his desktop and added a small chair for additional seating.  I also purged the excess linens I house on the top shelves of his closet.  We spent one hour on his room.

We will revisit his room design this summer and brainstorm new paint colors or wallpaper options.  Moving the furniture around might happen, too, and we'll need to work on sturdier hardware for his window treatments.  Also, I'm going to keep my eye out on Craig's List for a rug for this space.

The Laundry Room
This room is nestled between my kitchen and our tiny entryway.  It is a catch all for many things.  Cleaning supplies are stored in the lower white cupboard, out of sight.  Extra pantry items, as well as my cookbooks, kitchen towels & Dyson hand vacuum live in the top cupboards.

The green picnic basket on top of the dryer usually holds small gifts or books to use as hostess gifts.  Steve has an exposed cubby for his mail, wallet and other small items.  According to Apartment Therapy's guidelines, this would be considered his Landing Strip.  I know there's another meaning for this phrase, but stay with me here, friends.  Let's keep it clean.

The laundry room housed my Outbox during the Cure, but now it's free and clear of all of that mess purgatory.  The white shelf is primarily used to hold our library bags, outgoing mail or items that I need to return to friends.  I guess it's always been used as an Outbox.  The three baskets hold our dirty clothes.  Darks, whites & items to take to the dry cleaner.  I throw a load of laundry in almost every morning and this helps keep these baskets from overflowing.

The Entryway
Nothing much happened in the entryway.  Excess shoes were put away, the small rug vacuumed and the slider tracks were deep cleaned.  A few years ago we added these Flor carpet tiles and I love them.  We haven't had to replace any yet, but it would be easy to do so with the spare tiles we have on hand.

The Master Bedroom (aka - "The January Cure Project")
I posted a few before and in-progress pictures on my last past about the Cure.  This is a shot of an empty room.  I cleaned baseboards and window sills, cleaned the wood floors and said to goodbye to our old bed after a quick sale on Craig's List.

Our room is approximately 11' x 8' feet.  The new platform bed (with storage) takes up 7-1/4' x 5-3/4' - it's a tight fit, but the bed fits and we turned it so the headboard is on largest, blank wall in the room.    It looks a little boring right now, but the plan is to ditch the set of dresser drawers on the right and store those items of clothing in the drawers provided under the bed.  

I'm also toying around with the idea of wallpaper on this blank wall, bookshelves or a large piece of artwork.  These items are on my list and will stay there until I figure it out and run it by the husband.

We met with a local electrician over the weekend and she is going to hardwire a permanent set of reading lights above our bed, so we can get rid of these Ikea plug-in lamps.  Hallelujah!  I just hate the cords and funky look of these functional lights.  It feels like we're still in college with this get-up.  We use them every night, so they are important to us, but not the most beautiful option.  She's also going to add lighting to my hall clothing closet and my son's bedroom closet.  Let there be light!

We're also exploring the possibility of using stools (inspired by these) as our bedside tables, but we only have 13" to work with on either side.  In the end, Steve may just build a set of simple floating shelves for each side of the bed that can be used to store our nightly glass of water, book, eyeglasses and small electronics.

The master closet is predominately utilized by my husband.  I do have two shelves for jeans and t-shirts, but most of my clothing & shoes are housed in the converted water heater closet in the hall,  just outside our bedroom.

The simple pine racks with pegs that hang behind our bedroom door save the day.  I use them to hang our baseball caps on the upper level and use the lower rack for bathrobes, my rotating cardigan sweater collection, as well as scarves and tank tops.  It's not glamorous, but it works and it's hidden behind the door when it's open.

I had the jewelry hutch custom-made about 13 years ago.  It is a dreamy little cabinet that houses all of my baubles, plus Steve's watch collection.  I purged it and reorganized it during this month's Cure and now have an empty drawer.  I'm sure that won't stay empty for very long.

I also picked up a set of curtain rods for our bedroom this week.  I thrifted a set of sturdy chocolate brown panels by Woolworth a few weeks back.  My husband has agreed to hang them in the near future.

The Living Room
Last year I worked on my living room as my January Cure Project and accomplished quite a bit.  However, the artwork I was going to get framed...never got framed.  Surprised?  I'm not.  I'm taking the piece down down today (I hung it up with washi tape and it's been that way for 365 days) rolling it up and placing it in a cardboard tube.  I'll take it to the framer next weekend.  I promise.

I popped into Target this week to grab a few new throw pillows for the couch.  All three were on sale and I'd been coveting them since the holidays.  I'm drawn to mustards and golds lately and love the look of these on my beige couch.

Well, 106 magazines were housed in my living room, mostly hidden in the drawers of our  rehbilitated mid-century dressesr-turned-media stand that I thrifted a few years back for $3 and Steve brought back to life.  I ended up donating 72 periodicals to the local library and unsubscribed to Sweet Paul, Sunset, Taproot, Cook's and Audubon.  I also put a hold on my Sunday New York Times subscription until the end of Spring.  I have a lot of reading to catch up on and my magazine problem was getting out. of. control.

I'm on the hunt for a new side table to replace the blue one I pulled out of my bedroom during the new bed installation.  For now, it will stay in the living room until another one finds me while I'm out thrifting.

I've also asked my husband to install two bookshelves above my desk in the living room.  For a girl that loves books as much as I do, I can't believe I don't have any bookshelves in my bedroom or above my desk.  He's added this request to his honey-do list and I can't wait to fill those shelves.

The Landing Strip
My desk acts as The Landing Strip and I'm pretty fastidious about tidying up loose paperwork and incoming mail by the end of each day, as my desk sits in the corner of our living room for all to see.  I have an acrylic box that houses a few file folders for bills to be paid, tax & school paperwork and monthly receipts.  I have to start and end the day with a clean desk.  It's just the way I work.  But in the middle of the day?  It looks like this!

The Digital Dump
I got a lot done in the Digital Dump department and found this to be a good use of time during the last week of the Cure.  I was kind of over purging cabinets and cleaning my house at this point, but going through email folders and dumping old and irrelevant documents was liberating.  I also created a better file folder system for storing years worth of taxes and Grady's artwork.  There is still a lot of room for improvement, but it was a start.

The Master (aka - Only) Bathroom
Our house is less than 1,000 square feet and has only one bathroom.  We renovated this room when we purchased the house and made good use of the space.  Not a lot was done in here during this round of the Cure.  I have a cleaning lady that comes every other week and she did all the deep cleaning on my to-do list.  And, yes, I love her.

I cleaned out under the sink, ditched old washcloths, organized the drawers and went through our medicine cabinet boxes (which are housed in our slender wine-slash-linen closet just outside of the bathroom).  I found old prescriptions, sunscreens and makeup that needed to be tossed.

The Outbox
The Outbox concept is one I have adopted from my prior participation in the Cure.  It is crucial in helping break the bond some stuff has over me and makes it easier to see leave the house and, in turn, my life.

I read Marie Kondo's new book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing earlier this month.  I didn't love the book as a whole, but I did appreciate her advice about holding an object in your hands before you decide to keep, donate or toss.  I think there is some power in that advice.  Also, her question about does an item spark joy? resonated with me and I posed it to myself on more than one occasion during the Cure.

All in all, my house feels really clean and organized.  My husband was instrumental in some of the big changes and I would definitely sign-up again for next year's January Cure.

The marked-up to-do list is going to reside on my desk for the next few weeks and then I'll put it away.  I'll tackle a few more things this month.  But first, I want to sit down and read a bunch of magazines.