Seventeen thousand, five hundred and forty four hours

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Butterflyinthesky1

You left us in the early hours,

so peacefully your spirit would roam.

Through a gentle wind and the rising sun,

He called to take you home.

A ladder was built for your journey to light,

each rung meant to make you content.

While bathed in the glowing light of rebirth,

you gracefully began your ascent.

Loving arms awaited  you there,

curling you into their embrace.

Heaven welcomed an angel back home,

 rejoicing her love and her grace.

You leave behind your spirit and joy,

in those who loved you each day.

While our days will be saddened by the emptiness we feel,

we know we will see you again someday.

~

Jane Eleanore Nairn – May 21, 1940 – March 7, 2014

The day the spaghetti broke

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I do not consider myself to be a “food snob” but there are certain things that are either right or wrong when it comes to the kitchen and food preparation.  Sure, bastardized versions of many dishes have been made popular over the years to appease the increasing number of dietary restrictions, but there is one thing that I find offensive if it is messed with and that is spaghetti.

One of my dear friends shared a story with me (mainly because he knew I would lose sleep over it) about “the incident” that may haunt me for the rest of my days.

We are both twirlers.  We take great pride in reaching into that steaming bowl of pasta with a fork and twirling that spaghetti, either on a spoon or in the bowl, until a pleasing mound of pasta is gathered in a beautiful spiral pattern.  There is something very fulfilling about the twirling process and the effort to twirl makes the reward of the first bite that much better.

It was a day like any other.  He had been out working in his shop and could almost smell the pungent aromas of tomatoes and spices wafting through the air.  As he neared the house, the scent of the sauce was accompanied by the fragrance of a fresh baguette, lathered in garlic butter, toasting in the oven.

She was there to greet him with a glass of wine and, as he got cleaned up from his day, she then busied herself getting the table ready for dinner.  He was eager to sit down to a heaping bowl of what he thought was going to be a fantastic meal.  Once he had seated himself at the table, she presented a bowl that looked very similar to this:

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What promised to be a meal fit for a King turned into a meal fit for a toddler.  I can only imagine the amount of time that elapsed while he gaped at the bowl in front of him, trying to be appreciative of her efforts but not commenting aloud about the egregious choice she had made.  She had sacrificed everything that is good about spaghetti and had broken the noodles into bite-size pieces.

He felt the harness tightening, encasing him in the invisible high chair in which he now felt trapped.  He repressed the urge to turn into that toddler and throw the bowl to the floor while he struggled to come to terms with the embarrassment those noodles must have felt.  He suffered in silence along with them as he spooned the unrecognizable pasta into his mouth.

Years later, I now suffer, not so much in silence, with him.  A law of nature was twisted that day – the day the spaghetti broke.

(image credit)

 

 

 

Smile and the world smiles with you

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I have the benefit of generally waking up “on the right side of the bed”, as my mother used to say.  It is a rare day that I wake up in anything other than a good mood.

The sun usually shines in through my curtainless window.  I am greeted by the face of my loving dog and the world feels like it is waiting to greet me with the same happy mood.

When I looked across my front lawn yesterday morning, I was greeted by these two smiling faces.  Randomly created by the snowfall, these faces adorned the back of the Muskoka chair that sits on the edge of my lawn anxiously awaiting the appearance of Spring.

How can you not smile back when the world smiles at you first?

 

Him

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two hearts2

He put his arm around my waist,

pulled me close,

and whispered the word ‘mine’.

I didn’t feel like an object,

I felt protected, loved.

Locked in his embrace,

I felt I was where I should be.

Unlike who I had been,

I let myself feel vulnerable.

I let him take control.

I let the strength of his embrace

assuage any fear I felt.

I just let him love me on his terms.

I curled into him,

and let everything else go.

Because, in that moment,

nothing else mattered.

They usually mean well…..

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People do strange things when they are under stress.  In the worst case scenario, their judgement is clouded and their choices are made without the benefit of having time to weigh the pros and cons to be able to formulate an informed decision.

On the odd occasion, people have very good intentions but they have terrible execution.  Although they may have a reasonable amount of time to assess a situation, their emotions cloud their abilities to think clearly and they make bad choices.  Their objective becomes distorted and they lose sight of the most important part of the predicament with which they are faced.  It is a simple human error and one that could be so easily avoided.

Conversation is the backbone of any relationship and honesty is the tissue that protects that backbone.  With neither of those things, human affinities will never have the strength to stand on their own.  There is much to be said for direct communication.  And, even if the exchange of information is uncomfortable, it is a necessary tool to build a strong foundation of trust and understanding.

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For the most part, people do mean well.  There are moments when they lose themselves in trying desperately to find a solution without first understanding the entirety of the situation.  Their concern impairs their objectivity and they believe that they are acting in the best way possible.  But sometimes, they just need to take a moment to breathe – to step back and think to themselves “how would I want  someone to react if I were in that situation?”.   And just maybe that one small step backwards will take them leaps and bounds ahead of where they were.

 

 

 

 

 

You can’t have too much of a good thing

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I thought I would have an overwhelming sense of guilt about my day yesterday.  But the truth is, I do not.  I hadn’t deviated from any plan of what I should have been doing but, instead, forged ahead with my original intention and spent the majority of the day on my couch binge-watching the remaining episodes of Breaking Bad on Netflix.  There, I said it….I’m out.

I did manage to feed myself the required meals to sustain my ability to swear at the screen and I did tend to my puppy dog, as the job did seem obligatory.  But any task outside of those parameters took a back seat and I was glued to the screen.

As the credits rolled and I waited for the next episode to begin, I had to face the harsh reality as the screen changed to the standard Netflix screen and not the profile of the characters I have come to know so well.  No longer would I be captivated by Walter White and his transformation from meek Chemistry teacher to the tower of greed and felonious intentions that he slowly became.   I had to call it – time of death, 10:39 pm.

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I will slowly acclimate to the reality I once knew.  My blog will learn to recognize me once again.  My Kindle will be dusted off and my vacuum will feel the familiar touch of my hands as I learn to live my old life.  I’m sure my friends will vaguely recall what my voice sounds like once I pick up the phone to re-establish contact.  I just hope I can remember not to call them all “bitch”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feeding the right wolf

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I don’t usually reblog my own posts, but this one struck me today. It holds just as much meaning today as it did when I wrote it.

Polysyllabic Profundities's avatarpolysyllabic profundities

It never ceases to amaze me when people make gross assumptions about single people and feel that they must be missing something in their lives.  Not all single people are lonely.  Just as not all people who are taken are in love.  Some things we see on our own would completely escape our attention if we were with others.

Single is not a status.  I am forging through this life unattached again by choice.  That decision took some deep soul-searching on my part but in the end it was the best decision I have made in a long time.  My willingness to be on my own again only solidified the fact that I am strong enough to live and thrive without having to depend on another person to perpetuate my happiness.  There were days during my marriage that I felt more alone than I do now that I live on…

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When you don’t want to mince words

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sure_logoIt is no secret that I love words.  I like to articulate my responses in a way that is concise without being too verbose, but I do like to phrase my answers in a meaningful way – especially if I am replying to a significantly valuable question.  I want people to know I have truly ingested the words they have spoken and taken the time to formulate a well-constructed response.

But there are those less wordy than I, those who choose to avoid the commitment of a lengthy answer and spare any unwarranted emotion by responding with a simple, one-word comment.  While that single word may convey the necessary feedback to the initial query, sometimes the person posing the question is left thinking that the responder cannot be bothered to take the time to formulate a proper retort.

Upon chatting with a friend, he told his tale of how he had fallen victim to the easy out of a one-word answer.   He had received a rather detailed text and he simply wrote back “Sure”.  After I had admonished him for his complete avoidance of all other words in the English language, we both had a good laugh.

He was incensed by his own lack of effort and every time he repeated the word ‘sure’, we laughed even more.  After we had expelled all the laughter we could, obviously at his expense, he thought it would make a great idea for a blog post and asked if I would be able to write about it.  I said the only thing I could think of – “sure”.

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Holding on to strength

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worry-zdralea-ioana

“Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.”
― Corrie Ten Boom

~~

It is easy to tell someone not to worry.  I am guilty of doing that very thing on an extremely frequent basis and in many different circumstances.  Recently, I have become much more aware of how redundant that statement can be and how little it does to alleviate the concern of the person doing the worrying.

Worry is a big part of the human condition.  We spend countless hours stressing about the things we cannot foresee, cannot control and cannot change.  We are designed to be thinkers, to be problem-solvers, and in those brief moments that we are left without an answer or a contingency plan we submerge under the waves of the unknown.

For as much as I try to not unsettle myself with things out of my control, today was a glaring reminder of how quickly worry can overtake us and truly drain us of our strength.  There is a small path in the carpet in my office where I paced back and forth.  There is an emptiness in my stomach where nourishment should have found its place, but didn’t.  And there is a dull ache in my temple from the inescapable habit of clenching my jaw when I am apprehensive.

Today worry was the cat and I was the feeble mouse.  I was victim to its cunning and could do nothing more than to hide in the metaphorical corner and play dead, hoping that the insidious predator would leave me alone.

Now I sit, writing this post with a slightly more peaceful feeling than I had earlier today.  Worry still beckons, the concerns of tomorrow still evident, but it holds much less power now than it did earlier today.  I have regained some of my tenacity so I can face tomorrow with a new courage.

Worry may be strong but I am stronger.

~~

image credit: Worry by Zdralea Ioana – http://www.fineartamerica.com

When you don’t have to think twice

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I am fortunate to have some truly great friends in my life who just get me.  I never have to worry about saying the wrong thing or having a joke hang in the air like a deflating cartoon balloon.  My sense of humor falls squarely on their ears and is met with an understanding laugh as opposed to the chirping of crickets in an otherwise silent room.

And the same can be said for their comprehension of the range of my emotional scale.  I have never been afraid to cry in front of, or with, those same people.  To me those tears are not a weakness but a genuine representation of my character and I admire that same quality in those with whom I choose to surround myself.  In an ocean as big as this life, it is nice to find another fish from the same school of thought.

There is a great sense of comfort knowing that, when you are with the right people, there is no need to feel guarded.  There is no reason to quell words or feelings because you sense they will be out of place.  There is no second guessing when it comes to telling it like it is because those people expect and appreciate your honesty and your compassion.

With those same friends, I never feel embarrassed if I am not at my best.  They know my good days and my bad days by the timber in my voice and they are just there, with no judgement and no unsolicited advice.  There is only concern and a touching way to express that concern.  Whether it is a solid embrace, a well-timed “I love you” or a simple touch of a hand to a shoulder, they seem to know the solution before I have had a chance to diagnose the problem.

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Those friends, those souls who are so connected to my soul, never make me think twice about being myself.  They cushion my fall.  They wipe my tears.  And they really do take up the biggest part of my heart.