YOGI

As I continue sharing about the dogs in my life, I’d love to share Yogi with you. He is a Golden Retriever born in March of 2011 in the great state of Colorado. His forever family lived in California (they had already moved here from CO) so Yogi took a plane ride to meet up with them.

My first walk with Yogi was in June of 2018 and he immediately stole my heart.

Yogi and I first started walking just a half hour but it became abundantly clear within a short time that 30 minutes was just not enough for this energetic guy. We increased our time together to one full hour and that seemed to be perfect for Yogi.

When I first arrive at his house, Yogi brings me a toy so we can play for a minute or so. We don’t just rush into the walk. We greet one another, we get/give lovin’ and share toys. Sometimes, he’ll even lay back in his bed as if to tell me we could just stay home and cuddle but I know after a short time, he’ll still want to walk so we get ourselves leashed up and off we go.

To keep things fresh and exciting for Yogi, we take different routes. He has a few favorites, as do I, but we mix it up quite often. Most times we include some hill therapy and then have a photo session at the crest. While he doesn’t mind the hills, he isn’t always thrilled getting his picture taken. None-the-less, Yogi obliges me in my efforts to keep a photographic file of our time together.

Even though Yogi is one of my bigger dogs and a bit older, he does not let that hinder our progress. He is definitely on a mission when we are outside. He barely pees, he almost never poops (because he can do both of those activities in the privacy of his own back yard) and he doesn’t even really stop much to sniff. He wants to walk. He wants to walk, walk, walk. I think his goal is to be my ‘greatest distance covered’ client. Each week we walk about 3.5 miles in our one-hour allotment. On several occasions, when we run, we can even get upwards of 4.5 miles.

My greatest story with Yogi is the day in early December of last year when we decided it was a great day for a run. We were nearing the end of our time together at nearly 4 miles. I had his leash in my right hand and he was leading the pack (all two of us). I’m pretty sure he was smiling at the time because life was good and we were immensely enjoying our time outside. However, as I was making great strides in my run, I tripped over a raised spot on the sidewalk and down I went. I fell hard because we were clocking less than 10 minutes per mile. First, I went down on my knees and then the upper section of my body landed hard on the pavement with nothing to stop me but my left arm. Needless to say, the leash fell out of my hand and Yogi was free and clear. He is such an awesome dog, however, that he immediately ran right back to me and stood by my side. I was dazed, confused and hurt. A woman driving by saw what happened and stopped to offer assistance. At first, she was standing far away asking if I needed help. Clearly, I needed help and I couldn’t understand why she was staying at a distance. Then I realized that Yogi was standing guard over me and she was afraid. I then told her he was friendly and she began helping me. As it turns out, I nearly passed out from pain and I vomited. My husband was called. The police were called. The EMTs were called. All the while, Yogi was by my side.

It has been three months since that painful fall and I’ve mostly healed. Retelling the story gives me chills all over again. I was physically hurt and anxious about the fall but it could have been so much worse. Yogi could have run off without me and he could have gotten hurt or lost and my heart would have been broken. But he was so good and apparently inherently knew that something bad had happened and his protective guard dog instinct kicked in immediately. What a gift and blessing Yogi has been to me for more than 9 months and especially on that day in early December when he came to my rescue at the exact moment I needed him.

Thank you, Yogi. You are so precious to me. 💖

  

Young Yogi

Sweet Boy

Happy Yogi

Running Yogi

Golfing Yogi

Little Dolly Anna ...

Scott's Aunt Betty wanted to give us a gift. She was an avid dog lover and bred Pomeranian dogs. One day she offered us the opportunity to take one of her puppies home with us. We were thrilled and decided we'd take the one she'd named Dolly Anna. She was tiny and oh so cute. Aunt Betty lived in Southern California so we flew down to pick up Dolly once she'd reached the age of weaning. 

Aunt Betty came to the airport to pick us up and she brought Dolly with her. I decided, as the mom, it was my job to hold the puppy as we made our way back to the house. In the process, the poor little puppy was so nervous that she vomited on me. I was terribly bothered by this. Apparently, I was not ready for a dog and all that came with it so when we left southern Cal to fly home, we left the precious little puppy with Aunt Betty. (Now keep in mind, the puppy vomited on my jacket and I proceeded to get sick myself. I could not roll down the window because Aunt Betty had them locked to be child proof. So I could feel it and I could smell it and it made me sick as well as the poor little dog being sick.)

Aunt Betty decided to keep Dolly. I think she must have known that at some point we’d be ready to take her, and that is exactly what happened. During the next few months I was so sad and upset with myself. I quickly realized that I really did want a puppy and I wanted Dolly. I ended up traveling back south to try again. This time, because she was older and more worldly, Dolly didn’t get car sick and neither did I. I put Dolly in an animal carrier and headed to the airport.

While in flight, my poor little puppy got sick – in both directions. I guess she was really nervous and scared. She pooped in her kennel and then of course stepped in it so she had poop on her little paws. Then she vomited. I felt so bad for her. She was so scared. I asked the flight attendant if I could take her out and clean her up. I then took her to the bathroom to attempt a cleaning. The poor little thing was clinging to me, me being the only familiar thing at the moment. I ended up with yucky stuff on my white blouse and pants. When I emerged from the bathroom I could tell that I didn’t smell good either. The flight attendant gave me some perfume to use. Thank goodness it was a short one hour flight.

I brought Dolly home to live with us and it was one of the best decisions of my life. She was the sweetest dog and we loved her so very much. She was fun and playful and so easy to care for. We taught her tricks. We could walk her off leash. She never gave us one moment of worry.

She brought so much joy to our lives and our home. I always said her goal in life was to please us. She was forever the perfect little dog.

One day, when she was just 11 years old she came in the house from being out on our deck and she was acting funny. She had a little froth at her mouth and simply collapsed right in front of me. We rushed her to the vet and within minutes, they had her hooked up to monitors. To this day, we don’t know exactly what happened. But in a mere two hours we were driving away from the vet, without our precious Dolly. The doctors tried saving her. They first assumed a bee sting and that she’d gone into anaphylactic shock. Then the thought was perhaps she’d been bit by a spider. When they came out to tell us she was not responding to any treatment we went into the room to see her. She lay lifeless on the table, her little body seemingly even smaller than usual. We touched all her pressure points – her foot pads, her ears, her tail – but there was absolutely no response or reaction. My heart was breaking and all I could do was look at Scott and tell him I couldn’t do it. Her heart was still beating simply because they had her hooked up to a machine. I couldn’t tell them to turn off the machine. It was just too much to ask. My brave and wonderful husband made the decision and asked them to let her go. We were beyond confused over the events. Our only guess is that she had a stroke. She’d spent 11 years going out on that deck with never a problem. I still don’t know what was different about that day and I guess it will remain a mystery. All I know for certain is that she was the cutest little baby girl dog ever and that she brought tremendous joy to our lives for nearly 11 years and that we were devastated by her death. We simply weren’t ready. We didn’t have time to prepare and were caught completely by surprise. It was a terribly sad day in our home and remained so for quite some time.

I hear about the Rainbow Bridge and I hope it is true. Perhaps one day I will see my sweet Dolly once again.

Dolly Anna Righter – February 17, 1990 – July 6, 2001

Dolly in a variety of activities

TAMING NEGATIVE NELLY

As many of you know, I am walking dogs these days. I have many regular clients and I love all my borrowed fur babies. Sometimes, Scott will walk with me on his days off from work. Last weekend, we were walking Turbo, a Whoodle (Wheaten Terrier and Poodle mix) that lives in Concord. We decided to take him to the park, one of his favorite places to go, and make a few trips around the perimeter. There is always a lot of activity at this park and Turbo loves it. He likes all the kids playing soccer, he likes seeing other dogs but he especially likes all the squirrels that call this particular park their home. As we were rounding the bend close to the parking lot, an ice cream truck drove in. I suggested that we get a couple of popsicles to complete our outing. As we continued walking, eating our treats, I marveled at what an awesome life I was living. Here I was, walking in a beautiful and safe park with a dog (and getting paid to do it), getting exercise, spending time with my husband, enjoying the magnificent fall weather we are experiencing in Northern Cal and on top of all that wonderfulness, I was eating a fudgesicle! Seriously, does life get any better?

Then …

Well, then Negative Nelly showed up.

We took Turbo home and I got him settled. Scott and I decided to stop at the grocery store before heading home. We needed just a few fresh produce items and the store was on the way. As we pulled into the parking lot, my husband was reminded about a restaurant he wanted to try. It was in the same parking lot as the grocery store so he decided we needed to go there to try it out. My mind went into overdrive in 3 seconds flat --- What? I don’t want to go into a restaurant. My feet are hot and tired, my hair is a mess, I have no make-up on, I smell like a dog, I have on ugly dog-walking clothes, I’m hot and I just wanna go home.

Wowza! How is it that I was just on Cloud 9, marveling how wonderful the day was, how awesome my life was, how delicious the fudgesicle was … And then all of a sudden find twelve things to complain about. I felt like my head was going to explode. I am in my head, beating myself up, but I’m sure you could see it on my face. And then, I looked over at my happy husband and he was so excited to be walking toward this new restaurant he’d heard such great reviews about. He was so happy to be spending the day with me, enjoying the weather, walking, talking and now eating! He didn’t care one bit about my hair, my shoes or my clothes.

I realized in that moment, probably for the umpteenth time, that those external things really take a back seat to the important things in life. I’m pretty sure no one else considered that my hair was not perfect and that I wasn’t wearing lip stick.

We walked into the restaurant and were greeted by the owner, so happy to see some new faces, eager to try his food. He gave us great service and prepared great food for us and we had an overall lovely time.

I am ashamed that I still get visited by Negative Nelly on a regular basis. I know she shows up because I allow her to. I am happy to say however, that on this particular occasion I only allowed her to hang around in my head for a minute or two. Then I kicked her out and went about enjoying the beauty before me.

Does Negative Nelly visit you? How long do you allow her to taunt you? Are you able to recognize she is not helping you be your best YOU?

The commonality factor with Clark W. Griswold

As many of you know, I am a professional dog walker. I walk dogs of all shapes, sizes, and breeds. When I first started this endeavor last October, I would go nearly anywhere in the county to walk a dog. I wanted the experience and the money and the exercise. Now, nine months later, I am a bit more selective about the distance I will drive. It is great fun for me and I still love every dog I come in contact with. I do have a few favorites however and as time goes along, I will share stories about these favorites.

One of the by-products of walking dogs is that I quite often find myself covered in their fur. I do my best to wear clothing compatible with being around furry animals but I am not always successful.

One of my regular dogs is named Max. He is a Siberian Husky and we have a definite mutual love for one another. He now knows what days I will be over to walk him and he expects me by waiting at the door. If his owner is not home, I let myself in and he is so grateful to see me. He will jump on the sofa and then jump off and come stand right beside me, brushing against my body, until I get him leashed up for the walk.

Yesterday, he was particularly lonely and was particularly happy to see me. Since it is warm out, he is shedding his coat in a massive way. Sometimes I'm surprised to see any fur left on the big guy because so much of it is either floating in the air or clinging to my clothes. After I took him back home yesterday morning, I went to my car to retrieve the lint brush I keep there for such emergencies. I was heading to the gym and didn't really want to take remnants of Max with me.

The lint sheet that was out was already used up so I began to pull it off to reveal a clean and usable sheet for my current need. However, because the roller had been in the heat of my trunk for quite some time, it had become VERY sticky. It took nearly all my strength to get the outer sheet off. I almost gave up but was determined to win the battle with this uncooperative lint roller. The harder I pulled, the stickier it seemed to get, almost in defiance of being used. I finally won and proceeded to use the lint roller to remove Max's hair from my clothes. I was ready to enter the building, clean and ready for a good workout.

But then I discovered something that Clark Griswold discovered in Christmas Vacation after cutting down the family Christmas tree. I didn't have sap on my fingers but there was something there almost as incessant - glue from the lint roller sheets. I quickly realized that I was in quite a funny situation. I couldn't touch anything with my right hand index and middle finger or my right thumb. I was attempting to put my hair in a pony tail in anticipation of exercising, putting my keys in my bag, carrying my water bottle and throwing my gym bag over my shoulder. Needless to say, this is not easy to do with only one hand. I decided I'd need to go to the bathroom to remove the pesky glue from my fingers so I proceeded there first. I washed up, using as much soap as I thought necessary to get the job done. I rinsed, checking to see if I'd accomplished the task at hand and then when I was satisfied with the results, I dried my hands in the hand dryer. At this point I decided I probably should USE the bathroom before beginning my workout routine. I entered the stall, ****, and then pulled toilet paper from the dispenser. And you can probably guess what happened next. Yep, you guessed it. I still had glue on my fingers. And, you can probably guess what my next challenge was. Yep, right again ... I had toilet paper stuck to those same fingers. So there I was, in a compromised position, trying to figure out how I was going to get out of that situation. I won't go into the nitty gritty details but let's just say I had to chuckle at myself before all was said and done. I finally figured out that using hand sanitizer will remove glue from skin. Who'd have thought?

By the time I got to the bench to begin my workout, I was quite amused. I often wonder what the aliens must think of us when they see stuff like that transpire. I'm pretty sure they are convinced that we are not an intelligent race and unfortunately sometimes our antics prove that point quite well.

IS BEAUTY REALLY WORTH IT?

You may have noticed that I've titled one of my pages "The Diet to End Them All." I have some ideas of what I want to do with this page but it will take some time. However, I'd like to start this section off with a funny post because it will take some time before I can provide you with the Perfect Diet.

I've got more than 10 books on my shelf that state the claim it is the best diet. I'm pretty sure that can't be true but I intend to read them all and try them out to find which book is the honest one. I am confident that I will gain wisdom and tips from each one and I probably won't find just one that is perfect for every body, including my own.

The book I am currently reading is so good and enjoyable and chock full of what I'm sure are great tips to be a healthier person. I am learning a lot and feel both inspired and empowered to make some positive healthy changes to my diet. I will not disclose the name of this book just yet because of what I want to share. I'm not sure if it will be looked at positively without more explanation (and based on my interpretation of the recipe) but I want to share this funny story from an experience I had today with one of the recipes.

I have a friend who lives on the east coast. She is very motivated to live a healthy lifestyle and she shares lots of healthy ideas and suggestions with me. Today I shared a recipe with her and her response was 'it looks time consuming and definitely fermented.' And then she said 'I wonder how it tastes.' My response was 'probably awful.' Then she said she was trying to be gentle with me because she didn't know if I liked the recipe. Then we both shared puke emoticons on the phone screen and LOL'd. 

Here is what all the fuss is about ...

The recipe calls for:

1 medium head of green cabbage, shredded in a food processor or finely sliced by hand

The liquid brine mixture is:

Water
Gingerroot
Unpasteurized miso paste

You are to blend the brine ingredients until smooth. Put the cabbage in a bowl, add the brine mixture and stir. Once well blended, you are to use a wooden spoon and tightly pack the mixture into sterilized jars. You have to leave room at the top for the mixture to expand. Add whole cabbage leaves to the top and tightly close the lids on the jars. Once the jars are full of this concoction, you place them in your pantry for FIVE days. After that time, you move the jars to your refrigerator and are to consume 1/2 cup of the 'salad' each evening during dinner. Apparently bubbling in the jar is a good sign. It means that the probiotics are teeming. Yay!

So is it just me and my east coast gf who think this sounds positively awful or does this sound positively awful to you as well? Apparently, it is crazy good for you because it is a homemade probiotic and enzyme salad but really? Gingerroot and miso paste? Ick!

Okay, okay, I realize I shouldn't judge a recipe by its ingredients but I can't help myself. I will be instituting one of the other recipes from this book beginning tomorrow and I will let you know how it goes. I have more hope for it than the one I've shared here. Apparently, to some folks, gingerroot and miso paste is worth it but I'm not fully convinced yet. The jury is skeptical. :-)

I SAW IT COMING

It had been more than 15 years since we’d brought the little guy into our home, getting him from the county shelter. We learned from our first visit to the veterinary office that he was probably about one year old based on his teeth and the fact that he appeared to be fully grown. And based on my internet research the Miniature Pinscher/Chihuahua mix breed, Sam had a life expectancy of 12-17 years.

As we approached Sam’s 16^th year of life, I realized he was probably nearing the end and I began to pray that God would help me through the difficult times ahead. Almost more than anything else I wanted to be sure I was with him when he passed away. I couldn’t bear the thought of my little constant companion dying alone.

My husband and I travel a lot and I was concerned that Sam would die at a time when we were gone. The thought made me so very sad. In December of 2016 we took a family trip to Hawaii for 10 days. I held my breath, hoping all was well with Sam while we were gone. We returned home on December 24 to a mature dog who had great difficulty reacclimating to his life in our home (he had been with the pet sitter for the 10 days of our absence). I thought for sure we were going to lose him on Christmas Day but I prayed a lot and asked God to be with us. We made it through the end of the year and Sam rallied after being in his own environment. As we began 2017 I noticed that Sam struggled more and more each day.

He no longer wanted to walk the neighborhood. His eyesight was nearly gone as was his hearing. He could no longer use his little doggie door to get outside so I began putting him out to do his business. He could no longer chew nor digest his regular kibble so I began giving him soft food.

During the month of January, I was terribly sad and didn’t quite know how to handle the transition we were experiencing. A very good friend suggested that I just enjoy each day with Sam and at the end of the day thank God for the time I had and hope for another day. So that is what we did. We enjoyed each day together. I began praying that God would take my little furry friend, perhaps in his sleep, so he wouldn’t suffer any longer and I wouldn’t have to make any horrible decisions.

At the beginning of February, my husband went on a 12 day trip. During that time, I felt like it was Sam’s time so I made an appointment with the vet. I labored over the appointment for a week, scheduling and cancelling several times. I continued to pray, asking God to take care of this situation for me. As the appointment drew ever near, I asked God for a sign. I wanted to be sure I was making the right decision. The three days leading up to the appointment all I could do was frown and cry.

My husband was out of the country so we had very limited communication. I kept asking God for a sign. Sam and I got in the car and I cried the whole way to the vet's office. We arrived a few minutes early so we sat in the car for a last few precious moments to be together. As I was getting ready to go inside the office, my husband called, from the Philippines, to check in. He asked why I’d made the decision and if it was really time. As I sat there talking with my husband, I realized this was the sign I’d been asking for. God had intervened and had my husband call within minutes of me walking into the vet’s office.

I went into the office out of respect for the doctor, since I’d made an appointment but I knew that it was not going to be the day I put our little man down. The vet came in and reached for Sam. He snipped at her, which he never did, and she told me that the day was definitely not Sam’s last, that he was clearly not ready to go. I shared my concerns with her, how I’d heard horror stories of people letting their pets go too long and I did not want to make Sam suffer. She said that it was better to wait too long than not long enough and told me to take Sam home and enjoy him for a bit longer. I cannot tell you how happy that made me. We nearly skipped out of the office in glee. I’m pretty sure Sam knew what had just transpired and he was as happy as I was.

We were able to enjoy Sam for another seven weeks, all the while I prayed that God would intervene. “God, please take this burden from me. Please take my little man so I don’t have to make the decision. I don’t want to make this decision.” I believe God answered me in a very strong and clear manner. His answer was “No, my dear child. I will not take this burden from you. I put Sam in your life 16 years ago. He has brought you much joy. You have benefited from his little life and he has given you his whole life. Now it is time for you to give back to him. You need to walk this journey. I will not make this easy for you but I will not leave your side. I will be with you through the pain and sorrow.”

And so it was. Scott and I enjoyed almost two more months with Sam and I relished every day. I learned how to care, both physically and emotionally, for a senior dog. I learned how to set my own selfish desires aside and be present for my little man who’d given so much. I learned to be a big girl and deal with big girl stuff.

The day of the appointment was one of the most difficult moments I’ve had. I could barely fathom what life would be like walking out of the office without Sam and yet I knew we’d made the right decision. He was ready to go. He gave no resistance. He was at peace and because of the journey I’d just walked, so was I. While I felt horribly sad about the end result, I felt peace. I knew it was time and I knew we’d made the best decision for Sam.

Even to this day, 15 months later, I am still very sad that my constant companion is gone. He remains fully lodged in my heart and I miss him on a daily basis. However, my resolve about our decision remains strong. I know we made the right choice. I know Sam's time had come. I know God was with me through every step of the process. I know it is okay.

Flirting with Mom

"Hey, mom!"

Sleeping Beauty

Using his new bed as a pillow

I was being shunned

Sporting a sweater

With BFF Wrigley

Sam loved watermelon

What a handsome boy!

Sunning with BFF

Loved my boy!

Journey vs. Destination

This topic has been discussed by many people over the course of many years. My bff and I used to have a conversation about this topic quite often. We discovered that I am most definitely a journey girl and she was an absolute destination girl.  I always ended with, ‘it’s all about the journey’ and she always said, ‘screw the journey.’  We had such fun teasing one another about this difference in our lifestyle.

Recently however, I began to give the idea more consideration.  There have been times in my life when I’ve struggled with my goals, my destination.  I had ideas of what I wanted to accomplish but struggled with the process.

And guess what?  As a result of that struggle, I wasn’t really enjoying the journey.  I felt hapless, like a drifter just floating through space and time, wandering around within my own self like a nomad.

So I made a short list of goals and I started working toward those goals. I exposed myself to many other schools of thought, through books, movies or internet videos that continued to foster my growth in the whole journey/destination argument.

At the end of that learning period, I sat down with keyboard in hand, and made a resolutions chart.  Each month has a specific goal.  A favored quote sits just below the ultimate goal and below that is a list of minor achievements that will enable me to check another item off my goals list or ultimate bucket list.

So, with all this in mind, it would seem that the destination is the goal.  How we get there is of paramount importance, dare I even say half of the process.  How we reach our goal, how we feel during the process of personal growth, will determine our mood at the finish line.  But we must get to the finish line.  Otherwise, it was just wandering through life. If we never reach the finish line, we never get the prize.

After much reflection, I’ve determined that each part of the journey and destination process is equally 50 percent.  You cannot happily have one without the other.  To be fully journey is to wander.  To be fully destination is meaningless.  To have each equally is lifelong success.

Where do you stand on this topic?

HEALTHY - Really?

My husband and I went to the grocery store last week. He was wandering the market as he usually does and I was actually accomplishing the task of getting the items on our grocery list. I was in the dairy department, considering if I should get some greek yogurt when low and behold my eyes fell on these containers. I couldn't help myself but to stand in awe and take photos. Really? Isn't yogurt supposed to be healthy? Don't we eat yogurt because it is good for us?

 

So then why do you suppose Dannon, the company that manufactures YoCrunch, felt the need to add sugar, food starch, unenriched wheat flour, butter, chocolate, preservatives, additives and a host of other ingredients to an otherwise healthy food product? Their ad says "Yum ~ Just Yum. Smooth, yummy yogurt meets fun, tasty toppings." After the ad tells you how to mix up the yogurt with the toppings it goes on to say "because you deserve the best of both worlds." Wowza! Don't you just love the way companies market these days?

And while we are on the subject of a wolf in sheep's clothing ...

What happened to granola - granola used to be healthy - whole grains, fruits, nuts and seeds - but now we've added butter, shortening and sugar along with chocolate chips, sugary fruits and yogurt coverings so the average serving of granola has more than 400 calories. Yikes!

And energy bars - these were originally marketed to folks exercising (running, swimming, heavy weight lifting) but now the average consumer (who isn't working out) eats them in large quantity because they are marketed as a healthy snack. Some of these 'healthy' energy bars contain as much sugar as a candy bar while others contain artificial sweeteners for flavor and as an added bonus actually cause sugar cravings.

Let's discuss turkey bacon. While some believe this is a better option than the good stuff of pork bacon we must remember that turkey bacon is still processed meat treated with sodium, artificial colors, sodium nitrates and saturated fat. While it is somewhat healthier than pork bacon, there is not enough of a difference to warrant the switch. You might as well eat the real stuff, just cut back on the quantity.

I'm afraid we must talk about coconut oil too. I have personally fallen victim to the marketing ploy suggesting coconut oil is better than other oils. Here's the truth ... while coconut oil has protoprotective and anti-bacterial properties, it also has 115 calories and 12 grams of saturated fat per tablespoon. Its saturated fat creates LDL (the bad one) and has such a high percentage of fat, we really should leave it on the tree in its original form. The saturated fat content of coconut oil sits at a whopping 82%, compared to 63% for butter and 50% for beef fat. 

And for those of you considering going veggie - veggie burgers are touted as being a healthy alternative to the cow or turkey burger. However, read the label carefully because many of these so called healthy alternatives are bound together to create the burger texture with fillers like gums, yeast extract, and corn starch. They are loaded with soy, salt, fat and additives. While going vegetarian is certainly an option many are choosing these days, just be sure to read labels carefully or better yet, make your own version of the burger using more veggies and less yucky stuff.

How is it possible that we can ruin even the best intentions of being healthy by masking the truth, dare I say, lying to ourselves about what we are consuming. Eating yogurt with candy pieces and cookies is pretty much defeating the purpose of eating yogurt. If you want a cookie, eat a cookie. If you want to be healthy, choose the yogurt without all the garbage in it. You'll be better off in the long run.

Something to ponder ...

House and Home

Sometime around March 1 my husband and I started the massive undertaking of remodeling our kitchen. Our home was built in the mid 1970s and we had only done minimal updating of our kitchen since we bought the house in 1992. I’d been asking for a remodel for approximately five years and was beginning to question if it would ever come to pass until one day I was standing in a small puddle of water created by a leak in our dishwasher. We made a homeowners’ claim on our insurance and received a nice little sum of money to repair the damage that had been done. It seems that was the final straw to get my husband to decide it was time to begin the remodel.

The demolition began. Cabinets were removed. Fixtures torn out. Appliances relegated to the living room or garage. Flooring ripped up. Big mess created!

Not only did we want to remodel the kitchen, we wanted to lay flooring that would make the kitchen, dining room, hall and living room look as if it was one big room. More flooring ripped up. More furniture moved. All personal items packed up and stored. Bigger mess created!

By the time all was said and done to demo the old and begin anew, the entire downstairs of my home was affected, including the garage. All fourteen hundred feet of my home was in complete and total chaos.

This caused me to want to go room to room and clean, purge, revamp, tidy up. Needless to say, this was a daunting task. But as I’ve been going about working to recreate an inviting space of comfort and cleanliness, I’ve been taking moments of time to consider the photos, the mementos, the knick-knacks that fill our home. I decided it was time to STOP and look at what I found important enough, valued enough to decorate our living space. As I was putting our home back together I saw our life in photos and trinkets from days gone by. Baby pictures of nieces and nephews. Souvenirs from our travels to foreign lands. Antiques passed on from prior generations. Treasured photos of loved ones who have passed on.

Over the past few days I have walked down memory lane and have enjoyed every.single.second. Prior to this project, I’d begun to think our home had become a big giant conglomerate of silly things that simply took up space. It was cluttered and dusty and unkempt. Now … well now these things have once again become the things I love, the tangible objects that we have spent a lifetime acquiring. I have a renewed appreciation for the things that collect dust in our home and I vow to not take them for granted again. The thousands of photos remind me that I come from a big and loving family and married into a big and loving family. These photos remind me that we have friends in all corners of the world. These photos remind me that we have not lived a lonely life. The trinkets remind me of a person or place that is part of our past. Each item I have displayed in our home carries a unique story and reminds me that I have lived an adventurous life. And I have done all this with the most amazing person, my husband Scott.

I’m so grateful Scott decided it was time to remodel the kitchen. There was an obvious benefit to it – increasing the value of our home. And as it turns out, there was also a silver lining – reminding me that this space we live in is truly our home! It tells our life story, almost without me needing to say a word.

MOM GAVE ME WINGS

At about the age of 20, my mom handed me a set of wings. Perhaps they weren’t real wings, I couldn’t touch them, play with them or wear them as part of a Halloween costume but they were no less significant. She may have even tried giving them to me earlier in life but I remember the day I accepted her offer.

I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma. When I was entering into 4^th grade we moved to the big city, Tulsa. I went to elementary school, junior high and high school all in the same area. The schools were all next to one another within a square mile. Home was within walking distance. The church we attended was full of friends and family. My safety was never an issue but none-the-less I’m sure my mother worried about me daily, as all parents do. 

In 1985 I met the boy of my dreams. At the time, I’m not sure I realized that but it certainly didn’t take long for me to recognize Scott was different. He was kind and considerate and was nearly always happy. We dated for a few years while he was in Oklahoma going to school. However, once he graduated and before he got a full-time job, he returned to his home town and his parents’ house in Pennsylvania. We were in the midst of having a long-distance relationship when he suggested that we meet up in Missouri. His dad (who was from there was planning a trip to visit his family). Scott told me that if I would be willing to make the drive from Oklahoma to Missouri, he would make the drive from Pennsylvania to Missouri with his dad so we could see one another. I was a little apprehensive. After all, I was just 20 years old, a female and at that time had really not ventured too far from the safety net of home, especially by myself. I was contemplating the decision before me when mom entered the room. “What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” I explained the details of Scott’s offer. I imagine she could sense two things from me: first that I wanted to go and second that I was a tad frightened about doing this trip alone. She looked at me and with conviction in her voice said: “Brenda, if you don’t do this, you won’t ever do anything.” “Well, alrighty then mom. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel.” I was a little shocked at her sternness and blunt answer and wondered where it came from. Why did she have such an opinion? Wasn’t she worried that something horrible would happen to me on such a dangerous mission? Didn’t she care? Was she throwing me to the wolves at the ripe old age of 20? Well, of course not! My mother loved me so very much and wanted to see me prosper. She knew she’d raised me to be a good girl, a strong girl and a girl who trusted in God, just as she had done her whole life. She was taking the opportunity Scott had presented and run with it. I wonder if she thought to herself that this was the moment - that prized moment when you realize as a parent it is time to gently and lovingly assist your child from the nest. Did she see this as a moment in time to seize?

A few days later she helped me pack up my car. She and my step-dad made sure I had plenty of money and that the car was in good running condition and on my merry way they sent me.

I ended up having a wonderful time and the trip, while great fun, was pretty uneventful. When I look back at this experience one thing is glaringly obvious. My mother put my feet on a path that is vastly different than what it could have been. She nurtured a sense of adventure, a sense of calm, a sense of trust that all would be okay. That sense has stayed with me to this day. She gave me a healthy set of wings and encouraged me to fly. She loved me enough to let me go.

Since then, I have quite often lived a life very much outside a warm and fuzzy comfort zone. Scott and I have traveled the world. We’ve gone to several countries where the natives don’t speak English. We’ve traveled to countries still under a communist regime. We’ve traveled to countries where Americans are not a favored visitor. Some of the travels I’ve done alone. I’ve traveled to many states alone. I’ve made both road trips and air travel alone.

So why am I telling you this story? Because I find it interesting that after all these years of living an adventurous life it has dawned on me that my mother did me a great service. She pushed me beyond not just my own comfort zone but hers as well. Actually let me rephrase that. I’m not sure at the age of 20 I had a determined comfort zone but I know she pushed me beyond her own. For many years she was a single mom and greatly worried about her children. She had created our lives in such a way as to minimize danger and harm. We lived in a bit of a bubble in order to remain safe. And yet when presented with an opportunity to help me make my own way in the world, she took it. She set her own fears aside and pushed me to expand and explore. I remain forever grateful to my mother for this act of courage.

To Ponder: What do you do, as a parent, that might help your child find his or her way outside the comfort of the life you created for them? Are you giving your child wings or are you holding back for fear of potential pain and suffering? Are you encouraging them to live a life of wonder or sabotaging their inner growth? Are you planting faith or fear?

My mom most definitely gave me wings. She encouraged me to live a life of wonder. She planted faith. "Thanks Mom!"

Monday, Monday ...

The Mamas And The Papas, right?

I love Mondays. Many people don't. Sometimes it is draining to think about the drudgery of another week of work. But when you look at the positive side of Monday, you'll see it can be a good day of the week.

Monday is a good day to start doing something such as a diet or a new exercise program.

Monday is also a good day to stop doing something such as a bad habit or having a bad attitude.

But the reason I like Mondays -- it is garbage day in my neighborhood. I know, you think I'm a little kooky now, right? Let me explain.

Every Monday morning I see two different garbage trucks go through my neighborhood. One empties the blue cart which is regular garbage and one empties the brown cart which is recycling. So I started thinking about the details of this. I can live my normal life all week long and then throw all my yucky stuff away. Once per week, on Mondays, some nice men come along in big trucks and haul it off. For up to 32 gallons of garbage I pay less than $3.60 per week.  Included in this fee is a once-per-week street cleaning service that keeps my neighborhood streets looking nice. And for less than $1.30 per week all the recycling gets removed and by recycling I mean anything recyclable -- glass, tin, paper, plastic ... All I have to do is put the garbage and recyclables in their respective containers, put the containers at the curb and Wa La it call gets carried away. Wow! That is pretty cool!

After traveling around the world, trust me, this is a valuable service. Not every country has such benefits. I've been to countries where the garbage just piles up in the streets - the city, and the countryside. In places that do have refuse service, the amount you can discard is quite small while the cost is quite high. Not many of us think about the benefits of having someone physically come to each of our homes and pick up our garbage. It just is what it is. It is a service we have come to expect.

Don't get me wrong, I expect this service because I pay for it. I'm merely pointing out the fact that I like this service, I appreciate this service and I'm grateful every Monday to see the smiling faces of those nice men in the big trucks driving through my neighborhood.

What do you like about Mondays?

MARVELING AT THE LITTLE THINGS

As I was walking this morning, I had a surge of happiness. It never ceases to amaze me at how wonderful our world and life can truly be. We are such a smart and inventive people. I won't discuss putting a man on the moon since that has almost become a cliche -- wow! we put a man on the moon. While I am not negating the importance or crazy accomplishment of that feat, it is not the only thing we can be proud of. We can be proud of and talk about so many other things - so many huge accomplishments. Actually, I personally believe that even what some would consider small accomplishments are something to marvel.

A few weeks ago my neighbor was having some work done on her house. We live in a cul-de-sac - this neighbor lives directly across from me so I was able to watch all the activity. She ordered two replacement columns for her front porch. The original two had dry rot damage and needed to be replaced. I did not see the truck arrive so I missed the beginning of the process and by the time I realized the columns had arrived, the forklift carrying them was already in motion. The driver was manuevering around in order to place them on the floor of my neighbor's garage. I watched with some amazement as it appeared he was doing his job with little effort. He gently placed the columns on the ground but was unable to push them entirely into the garage (there was some other stuff in the way). Once the obstacle was removed, he continued placing the items in the right place in order for my neighbor's contractor to be able to do his work. When the driver was finished with this, he proceeded to place the forklift back where it came from. He drove the forklift across the street and parked it directly behind the big truck (which carried the materials the driver was delivering). He then went to the bed of the truck and started pushing buttons. Some arms came out from the big truck and grabbed hold of the forklift. These arms then lifted the forklift off the ground and pulled the small piece of equipment close to its bumper. One could hear a few clicks and clangs while the connections were made between big truck and little forklift. After approximately 5 minutes, the process was complete and the forklift was fully secured in place. The driver then got into the truck and pulled away. Job complete!

It may sound odd but this whole process totally intrigued me. I stood in wonder at how easily one person was able to accomplish this task. The columns were 7 x 7 and 10 feet tall. I can only imagine how heavy they were. The driver was delivering two huge, heavy and cumbersome columns at the same time, he was alone, he was working an invaluable piece of equipment, he did all this with ease.

Isn't it incredible that we are able to accomplish these types of tasks? We are able to create and build and do and be! This particular task only needed one person to get it done. The two machines he needed to do the job - the truck and the forklift - both came in very handy and enabled him to deliver a product to the customer of the company with little effort.

I am often intrigued by what we have invented and I am eager to see what we'll invent in the future. There is so much possibility!

STORAGE WARS

For as long as I can remember, I've not been a fan of storage units. To be honest, I never quite understood the need to pay for storage, unless it was of course for something like an RV or a boat. Certainly you'd need to store one of those items since it is not like you can tuck either of them into your kitchen junk drawer. But other stuff? Well, I just didn't get it. And my husband felt the same way. He has always been opposed to paying for additional storage, beyond what we have available in our home and garage. Once, several years ago I merely suggested that we tuck a few things that we don't regularly use into a storage facility so that our garage wouldn't be so cluttered. Let's just say hubby's answer was a resounding 'No!'

Since then, I'd reverted back to my original opinion that storage was silly, a waste of money. To store things you've purchased, for example scrapbooking/craft goodies seemed particularly wasteful. I mean really, why buy so much that you don't have room for it? Let's face it, if I shop and buy so much that I need to store the spoils, then clearly I'm shopping too much. I should say, for the record, that I'm a shopper from way back. I can shop nearly anywhere, anytime, with anyone for any reason. At times this has gotten me in trouble from a storage space point of view but I've always somehow managed to handle it. I find nooks and crannies and tuck away here and there. The day I discovered storage bags was a good day! You mean I can put LOTS of items in one little bag, suck the air out and then hide the bag in a small space under my bed? Well, what are we waiting for, let's buy two bags!

Last year, for the first time in my life, I actually cleaned out my closet for the season. I packed away, in my newly purchased storage bags, all my summer clothing and my summer shoes. Wow! Would you look at all that space in my closet. Hmmm ... I may need to go shopping because clearly I don't have enough clothes to get me through the winter. There is extra space in my closet and I don't believe that has happened since around 1984 so I must need to go shopping.

Scrapbooking is one of my favorite hobbies and I also love making my own greeting cards. We travel a lot, I have a large family with lots of nieces and nephews participating in a variety of activities -- scouts, music, cheer, scholastic -- so I need a variety of scrapbooking supplies. So I shopped. And since I have a diverse group of friends from all walks of life I obviously need many options for papers, stamps, ribbons, and do-dads when card making. Guess what? I shopped. I somehow over the years managed to accumulate such a large supply of scrapbooking and card-making supplies that I ran out of space for all of it.

Can you see what's coming? Yep, yesterday I became the proud lessee of one 5 x 10 storage unit. Gasp! What have I done? I've gone against the very grain of my person and caused some tension in my house. My husband got strangely quiet which means he's not particularly happy with what I've done. Then he reminded me that I'd at some point in my past vowed to never pay for storage. But you know what? I am strangely exhilarated, dare I say even inspired. I see this rental as an opportunity to remove all the stuff (some might even say junk) to an off site location so that I can actually see the floor of my craft room for a while (my craft room also doubles as our guest bedroom). I now have the opportunity to weed through my purchases with time on my side to determine what, if anything, needs to be donated. I now have the time to be less overwhelmed since these items will not be staring me in the face every time I walk by the craft room. I find myself excited about the possibilities of all this new space. Uh oh ... a familiar sensation is coming on ...

See you at Hobby Lobby! (Ah, just kidding.)