Category Archives: success

Hearing the most important voice

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I did something yesterday that I sincerely hope I remember to never do again – I bought a fully processed and synthetic lunch because I had failed to prepare my own.  What seemed like a good idea at the time came back to haunt me a few hours later when every part of my body screamed in disgust.

Recently I have been very smart about my food choices.  With only the occasional “treat”, I have been preparing all of my own meals so I know exactly what my body is ingesting and I have really enjoyed cooking again and experimenting in the kitchen.  The only processed items that have passed my lips are the ones that I have processed myself so I know what kind of food is in my food.  My body made it abundantly clear today that it will no longer put up with my bad choices and laziness when it comes to preparing my own meals.

It is simple to adhere to a proper diet when you take a few moments to prepare in advance.  I love when I have a full day in the kitchen and am able to think ahead about what I want to use to fuel my body for the coming week.  I make all of my own soups and freeze them so I am not overwhelmed by the hidden sodium and preservatives in canned soups.  I make ‘Salad-in-a-Jar’ for each day of the week and sometimes even prepare sectioned grapefruit or ‘Refrigerator Oatmeal’ for breakfasts.  It takes the guess-work and stress out of having to prepare meals each morning for the work day ahead and it can prevent those bad choices when you are hungry and pressed for time.

salad in a jar

Salad in a jar was an amazing discovery for me.  I bought a case of Mason Jars and made a week’s worth of salads for lunch.  Each day I opened a jar onto a plate, the lettuce was still crisp and it was a quick way to have a healthy lunch.  For those of you who may have heard of these but never tried them, I urge you to buy some jars and spend and hour on the weekend making your lunches for a week.  Knowing those go-to lunches are always there during your work week will alleviate the stress of wondering what you will eat at the office and you can add any ingredients you like to your salad.

I listened to my body today and got the message loud and clear.  I’m not 25 anymore.  I can’t just eat what is available and go about my day without ever giving it a second thought.

Your body’s voice is the most important voice you will ever hear and you should heed its advice.   It will be more honest with you than any of your friends or your family and only has its best interest at heart.

 

A little dab’ll do ya

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Although this cute little catch phrase was originally used for Bryl Cream, it came rushing to the forefront of my mind when I passed a young man on his way into the grocery store as I was heading out.  He was wearing SO much cologne that I actually began to gag on the way to my car.  The scent permeated, not only my nostrils but, my taste buds and it eventually began to burn my throat.  It was overwhelming.  I guess he was never taught the old adage – a little goes a long way.

Little_Dab

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I may have a slightly tarnished view of this because I am allergic to perfume and cologne so any slight whiff affects my delicate sensibilities, but, even so, it was like watching the well-groomed version of Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoon except the cloud was a film of cologne instead of his usual dust cloud.

I think Axe Body Spray for men, and any perfume or cologne companies for that matter, should adopt a new advertising campaign – commercials showing women and men running in horror from the noxious cloud created by those who don’t know when to say enough is enough when it comes to “dabbing” on that bit of fragrance.

For those of you fortunate enough to be able to wear your favorite scents, please remember – everything in moderation.  A little dab really will do ya.

Getting to the root of the question

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I am a natural brunette, or at least I was a natural brunette until sometime in my twenties.  Like my grandmother, my hair started to age before its time and I began to notice more salt than pepper at the roots surrounding my face.  I have been dying my hair since then because I refuse to go down the path of “aging gracefully” without a hearty fight.

Someone recently asked me what my natural hair color was and, after I finished giggling, I responded with “I’m guessing somewhere between alabaster and egg-shell white”.  I still like to think the hair color that I have paid for on numerous occasions reflects the age I feel and not the age I should look when I am eighty.

When I was younger I remember  hearing the belief that grey hair made men look distinguished but made women look old.  Along with every other changing belief, this is an outdated way of thinking and there are many women disproving this theory at an alarming rate.  One stand-out woman who takes grey hair to a new level of sexy is this woman.

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Jamie Lee Curtis is 56 years old, a mere 10 years old than I am and she looks absolutely stunning having allowed herself to embrace the natural greying process.  Since the length of my hair in the summer months is very similar to her pixie cut, I have been tempted many times to put the box of “natural” color back on the shelf and see just what color my hair really is at this stage in my life.  Somehow those ‘Natural Instincts’ make their way to the counter every time.

Maybe when I hit that magic number, the big 5-0, perhaps then I will be ready to leave the color in the box, but until then it’s time to put those gloves back on and keep fighting the good fight.

The monsters in the closet of my mind

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orwell

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There have been many writers before me who have been driven by the same demon.  I love words.  I love using them like paint and creating a wall of graffiti that truly represents me.  I love to dip my fingers in those words and rub them on the wall with the freedom of a child learning how to paint.

Writing this blog has been such a wonderful experience for me.  I can write each day about whatever my brain sees fit to write about that day.  But the more time I spend with my blog, the less time I spend trying to struggle through that painful illness of writing my book.

Maybe this blog is teaching me something.  Perhaps knowing I can devote time each day to my blog means that I am capable of changing that focus and spending the time trying to bring the characters of my novel to the finish line of their bizarre journey.

I get you, George.  Time to face that Demon head-on!!

Grab the eraser, the blueprint is changing again

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“We must be willing to get rid of the life we planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” ~ Joseph Campbell

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We are all designers and if I have learned anything in my 45 years on this revolving orb of surprises it is that life never goes according to our intricately drawn plans.  Maybe it is the shifting tides or global warming or an ill-timed sneeze in the wrong direction that erased the lines we had drawn on our personal architecture but the structure of our life always ends up being different from what we had originally anticipated.

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Somewhere between concept and construction, the lines of communication are interrupted and life continues with one plan while we are left scratching our heads looking at the original drawings and wondering what happened.  Life is never exactly what we imagined.   And if yours is I applaud you and you can stop reading because this will have no bearing on your perfect life.

Adapting to change is something we are all too familiar with – the capability to shift our focus and rebuild a few walls to maintain the structural integrity of our lives is of key importance.  The giant eraser of fate can remove one small line in the rendering of our life and change the bones of the entire skeleton of our reality but it is how we learn to live the life that was meant for us that makes us successful.  Being able to leave the old drawings behind and start building again based on the updated sketch is what life is really about.

Maybe those blueprints we so carefully drew helped to build the foundation of our life but I’m willing to bet a little something called fate is going to fill in the rest of the lines for us.

How close is your life now to what you thought it would be?

A non-felonious state of mind

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“There are two types of people in the world.  Those who waste time staring at a closed door and those who find a window.” ~ Phil Dunphy, Modern Family

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I love watching Modern Family and as soon as I heard this quote I immediately thought of my dad.  It wasn’t because he was the eternal optimist, although he was.  It was because he took this quote to a whole new level of reality about twenty-five years ago.

My dad sold real estate and he was regarded by many in his field to be one of the best.  The man could sell ice cubes to Polar Bears.  So when a family of five decided they wanted to purchase a cottage in Muskoka, my dad went out of his way to find the perfect place.  He had heard of a property that was being listed, but not yet officially on the market, and he knew it would be their Utopia.  The lake frontage was stunning, the view was incredible and the neighborhood had the promise of only increasing in value.

They ventured en masse to see the property and, because it had not been officially listed, they were unable to access the cottage itself….until my dad spotted the open window.   He would never be able to convince the family of the charm that cottage possessed unless they were able to see the entire property, inside and out.  The wheels in his head began to turn and his eyes finally fell on the youngest of the three children.  With sufficient cajoling and a little effort, the couples’ youngest son was boosted up and sent through the open bathroom window.  Moments later he appeared at the front door to, just as illegally, let the rest of the family enter what would eventually become their family cottage.

break and enter

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That closed door meant nothing to my dad.  It only took a few moments for him to realize that portal was not his only option.  If he had let himself be constrained by his perceived reality, that cottage would never have been bought by this family.  His perseverance and willingness to think outside of that boxed-in door led him to that open window, the sale of a beautiful cottage and the happiness of a family.

As it turns out, that relatively innocent “break and enter” would have much more of an impact on me, when years later their daughter and I would meet while working in the same pub and become best friends.

You are never stuck in a situation because the door seems to be closed.  And although you think that door may be the only way in or out, look for that open window.  It’s there somewhere.

Willie, may the odds be ever in your favor

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Superbowl Sunday has arrived!  The culmination of seventeen glorious weeks of watching the pigskin, followed by Playoffs and now it’s time for the Big Show!!  Even the groundhogs get a reprieve this year and get to watch the game in the comfort of their burrows without being dragged into the daylight until tomorrow.

Ah, Groundhog Day – that magical morning when we put our faith in an abundantly nourished, rotund mass of fur to predict the arrival of Spring.  This over-sized rodent is depended upon to prognosticate to the best of his ability and tell us, by virtue of seeing or not seeing his shadow, when we can expect the return of Spring.

Last year my post about this auspicious day focused more on the history and process of Willie’s predilection for weather.  This year I thought I would look at things from the perspective of poor Wiarton Willie (the Canadian version of Punxsutawney Phil).  First, he is rudely roused from his winter-long slumber to come out of his burrow and predict something even educated meteorologists cannot agree on.  Second, when he finally does make his appearance, he is greeted by a bemused but somewhat urgent crowd as they try to keep themselves warm enough to endure the period-costumed pomp and circumstance.

I am inclined to guess that Willie’s urge to get back into his cave has nothing to do with seeing his shadow.  I don’t know about you but, if I awoke to large crowd focused solely on me, I would be in one Hell of a hurry to bury myself back under my nest of blankets, shadow or not.  I feel somewhat sorry for Willie.  After being forced from his snug home out into an artic-like morning, the New England Patriots are probably not the only ones with deflated balls.

Given the success rate of these whiskered weather forecasters, the only prediction I would really take to heart is perhaps Willie’s prophecy about Superbowl 49.  Enjoy the game Willie and good luck with the madding crowd on Monday!

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Here’s to grit in my eyes

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Dear Mr. Sandman,

This is a difficult, yet necessary, letter under the circumstances.

While I respect the fact that your position among the Counsel of Legendary Figures (COLF) may be on a lower rung of the power ladder, I must respectfully submit this letter to share my disappointment in your abilities of late.

I have been seemingly self-sufficient when it comes to nodding off after my head has initially hit the pillow.  I know you are busy with others who have difficulty finding that evasive snooze-zone so I have learned to manage that on my own.  What I fail to understand is how you neglect my needs after I have come back into full consciousness and am wide awake at 2:30 in the morning.

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I am a relatively patient person and have been using my time creatively to come up with story lines and blog post ideas while I wait for your arrival, but to no avail.  You have been a repeat offender when it comes to being a no-show and I am beginning to take it a little personally.  I mean, come on man, it’s just a little sprinkling of magical sand for goodness sake.  Surely you can swing by and drop some of that precious powder on my eyes so I can find that whimsical dream world once again after waiting for several hours.

I certainly don’t want this to sound like a threat but, I can only imagine how displeased the COLF would be to find that you have been slacking in your duties and misrepresenting such a prestigious mythical body of great legendary figures.  I’m sure Santa Claus, Cupid and the Tooth Fairy would be slightly easier to deal with but Mother Nature has been a real bitch lately!  (Even Father Time cannot keep up with her shenanigans)

So, for the sake of fairness, I shall refrain from sending a copy of this letter to the COLF in hopes that we can come to an agreement.  I shall eagerly await your attendance the next time I find myself staring at my ceiling in the wee hours.

Come on, Sandy, just a little sprinkle.

With the utmost respect,

Susan

 

 

 

Removing the obstacles – a lesson in housekeeping

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clutter

I would never describe myself as a minimalist.  I do love some of the comforts I have afforded myself.  But the bits of collected stuff that seemed to have congested my life have been eradicated, tossed, vanquished.

I live in a small home that suits my needs and the needs of my dog.  We have a vast amount of space outside and ample room inside to be quite comfortable.  I have never been one to have rooms just for the sake of having rooms.  Our life is simple, our life is comfortable and our life is manageable.

The largest room in our 600-square-foot home is the kitchen.  This is why I chose this house.  I remember standing on very high snow banks to peer into the windows before I began renting.  As soon as I saw the kitchen, I knew this was meant to be my home.  My kitchen is my haven.  I love to bake and I love to cook.  And even though I am currently cooking for one, creating food is a passion and not just a necessity.  When I finally bought this home from my landlord, my renovation money was easily focused on the kitchen.

Over the years the clutter began to accumulate but, it wasn’t just the physical pieces that had been stashed into the corners, it was the collected bits of memories and regrets that had also been piling up in the invisible spaces in my house.  These piles of intangible things had been standing between me and the life I was willing to move towards.  It took a small dumpster and a great deal of courage to rid myself of the physical and mental obstacles in my life and be able to live free of the clutter that had been threatening to topple over and bury me under its weight.

After a few hundred dollars and several hours of intense labor, I was finally free of the clutter – all of the clutter.  The physical reminders of a life that had failed and the mental reminders of things that were never meant to be were finally gone.  For the first time in a long time, I felt free.  I truly felt that the life I wanted now had a way to find me without having to circumvent all of the barriers I had created.

A little Spring cleaning can go a very long way and it can eventually clear the path that you were meant to follow.

 

 

 

 

If I lived in Boston, I would say Buddha is ‘wicked smaht’

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I’m sure we can all recall the many times in our childhood we were told to treat people the way we would like to be treated.   Do unto others.  It made a great deal of sense, it still does, and made us all (hopefully) more socially responsible and more polite human beings.

But somewhere along the path of treating others with respect and courtesy we may have drained our personal well of kindness and empathy and saved very little compassion for ourselves.  We spend so much time worrying about how we treat others that we fail to treat ourselves with the same dignity that we would impart to a stranger.

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 It is instinctual to be concerned for others, to help those who need our help, but how often do we reflect on our own needs and drink from our own well of compassion?  We need our own help just as much as others may count on us for support.  There is a vast difference between wallowing in self-pity and allowing yourself a few moments to feel the pain of what is bothering you, to process it and to understand that giving yourself time to heal is, not just okay but, a necessity.

We need to do unto ourselves and give the same common courtesy to ourselves that we were taught to give others.  To do anything less would be a grave injustice. As Buddha so wisely says, it would make us incomplete.  Denying ourselves that level of self-compassion makes us unworthy of being able to understand the message behind the emotion and renders us unable to truly share the gift of empathy.

It is better to give than to receive.  But it is acceptable and necessary to give to ourselves as well as give to others.  Compassion is not something you can only share with those around you.  Compassion is meant to encompass everyone, including you.