Category Archives: happiness

My spare time is a “write” off

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Knowing the fall-out I may face, I’ll admit it – I miss the fall and winter nights but only because I miss the time I had to write and to read blogs.  The summer months are unforgiving when it comes to spare time.  I miss the words that used to come so easily and I miss being able to read the words of those I follow.

My imagination used to be ready and waiting as soon as I sat in front of the laptop but recently my muse has been accused of taking vacation and enjoying the summer weather along with the many guests at the resort where I work.  The time I used to have to read the many blogs I follow seems to be non-existent and the pond of creativity I had the benefit of floating on is now a dry well of sand and I am stuck making angels in the dust.

sand angels

(image credit)

But in those moments of creative drought, I have the good fortune of interacting with many smiling faces so all happiness is not lost.  The forecast for my upcoming day off looks promising for a day on the couch, laptop in position and hopefully a few creative thoughts will drop like the rain that is supposed to fall on Monday.

 

Living in abundance

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I am not wealthy, but I feel rich. I don’t have a large collection of belongings, but I live in abundance because I choose to define my prosperity in the most basic of ways.  I choose to perceive my success in the reflection of the people in my life and I don’t measure that success by any other standards but my own.  My richness cannot be seen, only felt.  The wealth I have is in the things that I hold dear to my heart and, for that reason, I will never be poor.

I have love in my life, so I will never be without emotion.  I have friends in my life, so I will never be without laughter.  I have the gift of creativity in my head, so I will never feel alone.  I am bathed in the glow of the sun, so I will always be warm.   And I live as my most honest self so I will never be afraid.  My abundance is overflowing.

Life-of-Abundance

True success should only be defined at the end of your emotional journey and not in the possessions you collect along the way.  Your greatest wealth lies in the eyes of your partner or your children.  Your greatest strength lies in the arms of your family and friends.  And your only obstacle is the limit you give your imagination.

I live well because I am rich.  My stocks are in my family, my bonds are in my friendships and my gold is in my truth.  My richness collects interest with each day that passes because I have people in my life that support me and challenge me.  I have discovered new friends that inspire me and that feeling of worth pays me dividends that mean far more to me than monetary wealth ever could.  I am living in abundance and I have more than I ever dreamed possible.

 

Branching out from every day life

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“Our life is frittered away by detail.  Simplify, simplify, simplify.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

treehouse

(image credit)

This picture is my bliss.  If I could press a magic button and be transported to this place, I would be a happy woman.  I have never been lured by the latest fashion or by the possession of “things”.  I am not a person who is concerned by status.  I simply want to feel joy in my day-to-day life and this representation of simple happiness truly defines the life I wish to live.

I want to create my own standards.  I don’t want to be held hostage by the confines of what society deems acceptable.  I refuse to compare my success to the success of anyone other than myself because that would be unfair to me.  I want to live on my terms and live by my own rules.  I want to live the way I want to live….nothing more, nothing less.

Being able to climb up into this tree house at the end of a long day would make all of the effort worthwhile.  Just to know that this little piece of Heaven existed would make all of the daily hardships seem more acceptable and afford me that much-needed escape at the end of a long day.

The perfect tree awaits and I have begun my search.  I don’t need bigger and better, just my own little piece of paradise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I followed the crumbs back home

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“A party without cake is just a meeting.” ~  Julia Child

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 I’m not sure how old I was or what passing birthday had just eclipsed my dream of being a child forever but I remember the birthday cake my mom had made.  It was a chocolate cake with homemade buttercream frosting and a bittersweet chocolate ganache.  It was decadent.  It was made with love.  And to a child still in single digits, it was crack cocaine.

Every special occasion I demanded politely requested that my mother painstakingly recreate that masterpiece.  Throughout my childhood, I never deviated from that cake.  It is one of the favorite memories I have of my mother.  I cannot recall whose smile was more prominent when the cake was delivered to the table, hers or mine, but I do know that cake was our moment to share.

Over the years, I lost track of the myriad number of times that cake graced our dining room table but I never lost my love of that cake.  I saw how much effort my mom put into that special treat and, perhaps through osmosis, I garnered the same conviction that cake made people happy.

After being absent for some time, due to unforeseen construction on the path of my life, I am back on the road that leads straight to my oven and my decorating tools.  I missed cakes.  I missed the escape from reality that decorating affords me and I missed the joy in people’s eyes when they had seen what I created for their special occasion.

The piping bags are ready, the cupboards are stocked and the fondant is ready to roll.   Let them eat cake!

Or sometimes more than a thousand words

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When I first saw it, I was captivated by it.  A simple photo of a friend on Facebook grabbed and held my attention but it was no ordinary photograph.  I had hoped there was more of an explanation to it than mere Photoshop and I was thrilled to hear her tell the story behind the picture.

She had agreed to have her portrait done by her friend who is fascinated by the origin of photography.  He posed her and painstakingly went through the process that photographers went through back in the late 1800’s.  His camera was an antique with the accordion-style lens and the black hood that covered the head of the photographer.

He waited until the precise moment that he thought he had captured her true essence and he let his finger plunge the button that would acquire every detail of her spirit.  The result of his effort was remarkable.  He printed her face on tin to truly encapsulate the original process of printing a photograph.

I stared at her photo for a long time.  There was so much more to it than just a picture of her face.  There was a story in her eyes.  His diligent process captured much more than just who she is now.  This snapshot seemed to hold the story of generations, perhaps lifetimes of moments that led up to her being in his studio and posing for this shot.

It wasn’t a selfie or a picture as a second thought.  There weren’t 100 takes in a minute because that is all we have time for nowadays.  He paused, he let the camera do what it was meant to do and he took a thousand stories, captured them in one single photo and printed them on a piece of tin.

erin

Look at the artwork in this photo and hopefully you can now understand why I was so drawn to my friend’s picture.  Without the use of any computer tricks, this photograph projects so much more than just a face on a piece of paper or a computer screen.  This picture has depth, emotion and a lifetime of moments that led to her presence in our present reality.

If I ever have the chance to do this, I will jump at it.  I would love to see what kind of story my face has to tell and what ghosts from my past linger in the background, searching for recognition.

I’ll take 40-something over 20-something any day

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Arthritic pains, hot flashes, stress and wrinkles withstanding, I would not relive my twenties if you paid me.  That creased, hot-to-the-touch skin cloaks me in a sense of comfort that I was never afforded two decades ago.  In those days, I wore a skin that never felt comfortable.  That twenty year old skin never seemed to feel like it fit on the body that was attached to my brain.

Perhaps these wrinkles are the road map of the journey that led me to where I am now.  Each crevasse that is etched into my skin marks a milestone that ensured, not only a lesson learned but, a memory was created.  Like every foolish twenty something, I thought I was invincible.  I didn’t necessarily feel like the world owed me anything but I felt like it was my oyster and it was my destiny to find that pearl.

It took me that span of twenty years to realize that I am the pearl in the oyster of my reality.  The epic search for the jewel encased in a hard shell was actually the search for my true self.  The walls that I had created in my teens and twenties became the shell of my oyster and the pearl was me.  Slowly, over these many years, that pearl has come to represent the confidence I now have in myself in every facet of my life.

Spending time chiseling away at the outer shell of my oyster has allowed me to gradually peer into the real meat of my reality and open the doors of that tomb that was my shell.  I no longer feel the same constraints I did in my twenties and if some remnants of those constraints still remain, I don’t care.  It is only a matter of time before the sand on the beach of my reality wears away the residue of that shell that still threatens to inter my world.

In my forties the world has become my oyster, once again, but in a completely different way.  I know who I am and I finally can admit to what I want.  My obstacle now is not the boundaries of my shell but the only the boundaries of my courage and my imagination.

It could be really great…..or go completely pear-shaped!

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spare time

Spare time is defined by thefreedictionary.com as “time available for hobbies and other activities you enjoy”.  I had to read that to refresh my memory as to its true meaning since I have not been able to really enjoy any for quite some time.

When you work in the hostility hospitality industry, time of the spare variety is few and far between.  Those waning hours of consciousness after working a twelve-hour day consist of having a libation of your choice and trying to keep your eyes open for longer than an hour after your body pours itself onto the couch.  It is difficult to enjoy an artistic hobby from behind partially closed eyelids.

But all that could change.  The summer staff are arriving, one by one, and my weekly schedule is set.  No more twelve-hour days are in my future, at least that is my conviction at this point, and this fleeting “spare time” could become more of a realistic part of my day.

The weekly calendar begins tomorrow.  The first of many crazy Saturday check ins will come and go and the weeks in between should be routine, in a perfect world.  Life, as I used to know it, should allow me a little more freedom to walk my dog, read the words of fellow bloggers, read a book or just simply enjoy the ever-elusive unoccupied moments of my life.  If all goes well, I will have moments of greatness spent doing exactly what I want to do.

To quote Marthe Troly-Curtin, “Time  you enjoy wasting, is not wasted time”.  (image credit)

 

 

I had come home

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coming home

There was no sweat on my palms,

merely a certainty I had never known.

There was no rapid heart beat,

only a calm, a sense of knowing

that when we met

we were meant to meet.

It was a feeling of being brought together

after a lifetime apart.

It was a sense that a long journey

had finally come to an end.

It was an understanding

of a soul knowing a soul,

and that our time to meet again had come.

 We had met before,

perhaps decades or a lifetime ago.

We had since locked our doors

and hidden inside,

but your eyes knew my eyes.

You had seen my heart before

and when we met again,

 I recognized you without hesitation

because so much about you was familiar.

I had come home

and you were there to welcome me.

A warped sense of entitlement

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I have never been one to define myself by my generation but the more time I spend just existing in each day the more I realize how profoundly different my perspective is on what this world owes me compared to the twenty-somethings of this new generation.

When I was in my twenties, and even now, I never for one moment thought the world owed me anything.  It was up to me to put in the work to earn my place on this revolving planet and prove to everyone that I deserved my spot here.   And I have continued my journey in that paragon of reality.  But so many of the generation of today feel a sense of entitlement and hope to gain the greatest amount of accolades with the least amount of effort.  They seem to expect everything for nothing.

The thought process plagues me and I spend countless hours wondering where this ideology began.  Where did they acquire this sense of entitlement?  How is it they can feel so exempt from basic human nature as to not strive for achievement and the resounding sense of accomplishment that follows without putting in the work?  They have become a generation of people willing to rest on the laurels of others and take the credit for the blood, sweat and tears that they have not emitted.  They live in the pampered dog world – not the dog eat dog – world and it makes me fear for their longevity in the authenticity of being a member of the human race.

A sense of attainment is based on hard work.  You get back what you put forth.   That dog eat dog world promotes the attitude of “survival of the fittest” and those who are deemed fit are those who actually compete.  If you are sitting on the sidelines and simply relishing in the victory of the team without playing, you are winning by default.

There are some members of this younger generation who have made it out from under the blades of “helicopter parenting” and are becoming successful adults who are willing to work hard and take responsibility for their own success.  But the vast number I have encountered rely heavily on others to do the work for them.  A word to the not-so-wise, if your mom calls to get you a summer job your resume will find itself at the bottom of the pile.

To those particular slackers, I say – participate in the outcome of your own journey.  You can only blame other people for so long for any supposed limitations before you are forced to subject yourself to a heaping dose of introspection.  The only limit in your life is the amount of effort you are willing to put forth to strive for personal success.   Life isn’t easy, but the satisfaction achieved when you are successful is well worth the energy exerted to create that success.

Hey twenty-somethings – reality is calling….it wants you to join us.

You want fries with that?

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When I win the lottery (note the eternal optimism) I dream of having a food truck.  Seeing this burger and New York Fries truck only placed that dream, once again, in the foreground of my reality.  Our lodge was host to a collection of guests who were attending a wedding at the golf club next door to us and this was the midnight snack truck the bride and groom arranged for their wedding guests.

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My food truck dream changes fairly often.  I have thought about a soup truck with fresh-baked goods, since I love making both of those things, but after seeing this pimped out truck my idea morphed into a fine dining truck that would make the dining more of an experience in the truck rather than just picking your food up from the truck itself.

My brain kicked into high gear today and toyed with the idea of creating a fine dining restaurant on wheels, making the impossible night out possible by bringing the fine dining experience to you.  With a mock backdrop of a starry night and some great jazz, you would be able to enjoy the experience of a real date night without leaving the confines of your property.

Food courses, from Amuse Bouche to dessert, would be paired with wine and the food would be presented in a way that would please the eye as well as the palette.  I have been using myself as a guinea pig and, so far, the tests have been an overwhelming success.  Last night’s meal was bacon wrapped Pork Tenderloin served with spinach, apple, Goat cheese, crushed Pistachios and a Balsamic Reduction and I am confident this dish would be a success. (It was delicious!)

food truck

I am still waiting for the lottery Gods to smile favorably upon my new career choice.  Reservations are available but may take a few years to come to fruition based on how those lottery numbers match the numbers on my tickets.  Until then, I will continue to sample future items to perfect the menu of my food truck and hope my culinary dreams turn into a reality.  This truck, if all goes well, may be coming to a neighborhood near you!