When Dreams Become Goals

PART 2 OF IT'S TIME TO BE HAPPY

The truth is…to decide it’s time to be happy and then to actually BE happy isn’t a matter of flipping a switch. I had to think first and I don’t mean just making a quick list of the obvious but a deep, introspective sorting of possibilities and dreams that have been laying there in wait.  Even though I have dabbled with those dreams over the years, I realize I will never be really happy until I have them up and running.  Since I am a firm believer in the statement (since I heard it a little over a week ago) that a “goal is a dream with a deadline”  I realize that finding this kind of happy is going to require a little strategy and GASP…some work!

And yet it occurs to me that those dreams I’ve tagged as the ones that will enhance my happiness are feeling quite comfortable right where they are thank you very much. They are safely tucked away as a dream rather than a reality.

Perhaps it’s hard to bring them fully out because there is always the chance of failure, or might require working extra hard or require taking risks – or require that I need to be brave.  Can I do that?  I’m kind of in a comfortable pattern right now.  But there’s that happiness issue.  No one else can make me happy.  Not the inner happiness that comes with the satisfaction of fulfilling a dream.

When I was 6 my Mother asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And without a moment’s hesitation I told her in one word and she responded “Oh good, because you can be whatever you want to be!”  “How very wonderful” I thought!

But I let the more important things in life get in the way, I’m not saying that was a bad thing, it was a happy life spent with the people I love. And even though I have accomplished many things in my long life I have not ever become that one thing. Perhaps it’s finally time for me to grow up in answer to my Mother’s question those many years ago. I want to feel that I can truly say that I am that!  Feeling satisfied that I am!  I have dabbled in it over the years, I have even studied it but to be accomplished and use that as a title….no.  I have been fortunate to have family and friends and even some teachers give me some much appreciated praise but alas I’m somewhat like this peacock….

I need to believe in myself although I only see my faults!  It’s so much easier to believe in someone else!

But if I’ve learned nothing else since Dale died it’s how to be brave.  How to persevere.  How to keep pedaling.

The gymnastic gold medalist didn’t just have fun doing flips on the trampoline and then hop up on the balance beam in Rio and win the gold.  It took strategic planning and instruction and practice and work, work, work.

So I’m ready to pull out the full-fledged dream, dust off the cobwebs and make it happen.  By setting a long term goal date and then set up all of the steps that it will take to get there and then while I have no delusions of grandeur like going for the gold ~ I can certainly go for the Goal. 

I understand that Laura Ingalls Wilder didn’t accomplish her own dream of writing the Little House on the Prairie books until she was well into her 60’s.  So perhaps there is hope for me with my dream. I just need to make it happen without getting in my own way by talking myself into feeling comfortable with it just being a dream or fall prey to all of the "what ifs" and make this adage my mantra: 

If you want what you’ve never had…

you have to do what you’ve never done.

And then I will be able to say:  

Now that's a happy thought!

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The Next Step & Writing Assignment #29 Home Sweet Home

The handsome elderly gentleman sat within my plain view at the table near us in the restaurant. I could see him over my sister’s shoulder.  He was dressed in summer attire, perfect for the hot day, but the yellow of his shirt played against the silver of his somewhat disheveled hair. An untouched plate of food sat in front of him and another full plate and a drink was set at the place across from him - although there was no one in that chair.

I watched as he would pick up his fork and place it back down without taking a bite. Then he would look over my shoulder towards the entrance, look at the empty chair, sigh and take a sip from his soda and then put it back down.  Finally he looked around and asked a little too loudly, “Does anyone have the time?” Instantly everyone took out their phones but it was a lady near him that announced, “It’s 12:15”.

“Thank you” he said in a much quieter voice and then a bit louder, “My wife will be coming you know.”

More waiting and finally he shrugged his shoulders and began eating. Within a few minutes, he called the waiter over to take away his half empty plate.  More heavy sighs and more time had passed when he called the waiter back asking her to prepare the extra plate to go.  He kept looking at the empty chair, kept waiting and then at the same time as my sister and I were leaving I heard him say resignedly, “She’s not coming”.  I could tell that he had at one time had a slight stroke in the way he was speaking. And then I caught the look on his face and recognized it as one which so often had mimicked the expression I have had or felt many times before and I knew…his wife would never be coming to lunch again.

For so much of this journey through widowhood I’ve felt or wished that Dale would just walk in the door and be here with me again, even if just for lunch.  The “acceptance” part of grieving that says - he would never be doing that again - came fairly early on but the feeling that he could or should never quite goes away.

I have the happiest memory of meeting Dale for lunch one day many years ago. I had been in Denmark for nearly two months and was flying from Copenhagen to Paris.  Dale was flying from the states and we were to meet at the hotel he had booked in Paris at noon and then go to lunch. What a joyous thing it was to see the love of my life, my best friend,  stride into the lobby of the grand hotel where I was waiting after such a long separation and fall into his arms and then to walk hand in hand and talk and eat a casual Parisian lunch together…True serendipity.

I should be crying here, right now, feeling empty but I’m not! I’m smiling and feel a sweet happiness.

People kept telling me it would get easier.  “Yeh, Right” I thought skeptically. But I'm surprised to tell you that it suddenly, suddenly got easier just a few days ago. I'm relieved to come to that realization. It doesn't mean that I miss Dale any less - it doesn't mean that I love him any less in fact I find that I love him more and more with each passing day.

At the store 3 days ago, I saw a little sign for sale that said simply “It's Time to Be Happy”.  And it was next to a painting of a beautiful white flower. Dale used to write poetry for me, often it would be just a few well-chosen words that would resonate and touch my heart and he would often bring me a white rose from our yard so these two things (the sign and the painting of the white rose) felt like gifts from him. Gifts for now, gifts for this time. He is with me; in my thoughts and memories, I see him in little things as I go about my day, I remember him in songs that I hear and even feel his love when looking into sky blue eyes in photos of my grandchildren. And when I saw that sign "It's Time to Be Happy" I felt like he was whispering to me…OK, it’s time now, it is a possibility to think about feeling happy.

And being happy doesn’t mean I'm moving on or that I'm OK without him but because (and this was a light-bulb moment) this is the latest chapter in the book about…Us.  I love the fact that he and I together are…Us.   A case of “Love you still, Always Have, Always Will”.

It’s getting easier, because I’ve learned to take those memories (whether carefully thought out or the ones that come unexpectedly with something that suddenly reminds me of him) as moments of joy rather than moments of heartbreak.  It has, in truth, taken time but now…It’s time to be happy.

I pray the sorrowful and grieving gentleman at the restaurant will arrive at that time soon. My heart goes out to him.

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Writing Assignment #29 – “There’s No Place Like Home”

Describe what “home” means to you at this time in your life. What constitutes that feeling of warmth and comfort and peace that is called “Home”.  Include descriptions of the inside and outside surroundings (yard, mountain, stream, etc.) everything, that when added together, makes you feel safe and comfortable.

Now do that for each of the homes you have lived in during your married life (and/or your adult life).

The Golden Ratio

I remember so well the day that I boarded the #7 bus in Firenze and headed into the Tuscan countryside toward the hilltop town of Fiesole. My goal was to find Villa San Michele.

The bus worked its way on narrow roads winding up the hill providing views of Florence that became more and more distant with each hairpin turn. And finally…Fiesole.  I stepped off the bus and was immediately enticed with the intoxicating aromas of several charming outdoor cafes in the town center but I only stopped long enough to ask a waiter for directions. A fair distanced walk and a steep climb up a long driveway later I was treated with the view of the incredible villa, originally a monastery founded in the early years of the 15th century for the Franciscan monks and then completely renovated in 1600 with the façade and loggia designed by Michelangelo and today, an elegant hotel.

Everything I had studied about Divine Proportion (the Golden Ratio or Phi) in my college Art History class stood prominently before me. I smiled; as I absorbed the beauty that is the result of Divine Proportioning; took a few photos and then simply walked through the front door as Michelangelo surely had done 400 years before.  I found my way to the loggia where I was seated and served a delectable lunch, as only the Tuscans can do, with a view of Florence in the distance and feeling the serenity of the peaceful phi arches over my head. Pure bliss.  A golden moment I will put on my 3x5 card tonight.

As I write this my mind wanders to other remarkable works of art based upon this principle that I have had the pleasure of seeing: The master of Divine Proportioning, the genius Leonardo Da Vinci’s Annunciation in the Uffizi Museum in Florence, Michelangelo’s ceiling in the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City near Rome and his marble sculpture of Christ and Mary called the Pieta in St. Peter’s Basilica; Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris and Leonardo’s Mona Lisa in the Louvre to name a few.  These highly intellectual artists and architects didn’t create the principle; they were just brilliant enough to recognize the mathematical methods and geometrical designs that begin to capture the masterful formula of beauty in God’s creations.

Something that these inspired artists were not able to see however, but now is clearly evident with modern science is that our very DNA follows these same Golden Ratio parameters. My interest in phi has recently been rekindled by the studies showing that our genes, damaged through environmental toxins and emotional stress, have the ability to reset (epigenetics). And according to one of the world’s top geneticists, Kazuo Murakamo, Ph.D. it has been “proven that our DNA is not just a static data bank. On the contrary, it has the dynamic potential to have desirable latent regions activated – or active, undesirable regions silenced – by psychological input alone”. (Quoted from the book – The Golden Lifestyle Ratio Diet) And the book's authors further state that Dr. Murakamo’s “genetic thinking” concept reminds us that we have more power than we realize in altering our life perspectives, thereby resetting our happiness set point to an upward, expanding Golden Spiral operated by the complex Golden Ratio principles in our DNA.

Due to the high emotional stress and the resulting effects the last few years as well as the fact that I haven’t yet had a truly good night’s sleep since before Dale died I figure my genes are in need of a little resetting as it seems that what they deem to be normal now is not what I consider to be normal at all!  To think that I can actually do something about it psychologically is intriguing.

One of the psychological (genetic thinking) techniques used in the book (as mentioned above - written by Robert Friedman, M.D. and Matthew Cross) to upgrade genetic potential is to look back over your life and determine certain ages where you felt you were at your happiest, with yourself.  And then for each of those ages prepare a 3x5 card adding sensory memory boosters: Visual, Auditory, Kinesthetic, Taste and Smell to give a complete experience to the memory and then make time to take "time-travel experiences" to recapture and remember how you felt at that time and then allow the rejuvenating and regenerating qualities to become the you of NOW.

Oh the power of the mind!

Watching the coverage of the Olympics it’s clear to see that the athletes must use the power of their minds to compete at their optimum physical potential.

When my mother was in her later stages of dementia I would call her from my home nearly a thousand miles away every odd numbered night for several years and read to her from her beautifully written autobiography. Mother had a delightful childhood brimming with the love of four older sisters and a mother and father whom she respected and adored and who clearly loved her.  Although a humble home, her father being a farmer, the 5 girls were talented and classy and devoted to one another, a veritable Little Women lifestyle.

Caught in the magical spell of her own words we meandered happily through the adventures and thrills, the tastes and homemade-bread-smells as well as the growing pains and learning experiences of her youth and into young womanhood. I would call her at night, after she had been tucked into her bed by the attending nurse. As a great blessing, she remembered me by voice when I called, always calling me by name and saying "Oh how are you! I'm so glad you called" and she remembered my sister the same way who called on the even days, week after week, month after month and year after year. Mother couldn't remember if the person who had just been there to visit was a close friend or relative or someone she had never met before, and she could't remember what she had eaten for dinner or if she had even been out of bed all day (which she always had). She remembered that she had been married but didn't know where her husband was and was saddened over and over again to hear that he had died.  But as I read her the stories she had written she would laugh and sigh and remember each and every detail to the finest point. At one time I mispronounced the name of a childhood friend and she quickly corrected me. When in her writing she mentioned a song, we would sing it and she would remember every word. Each night she would thank me from the bottom of her beautiful heart and say that she would be able to sleep well now because of the happy memories and the joy they brought to her. For those moments on those nights she allowed her mind to visualize and re-live those time-travel experiences and it was rejuvenating.

So as I continue to try to move forward with my life and even though by nature I have always been positive and look for the good and the uplifting, I will seek to revisit and embrace the peak health times in my past and if it can reset and rejuvenate, Hurray.  To recognize and embrace the beauty of divine proportions from within my mind and my body as well as recognizing it in beautiful mortal artwork and especially in God's own artwork is a golden opportunity.

 And in preparation for any forgetfulness that may come my way down the road...I will have my autobiography and some 3x5 cards to stimulate, gladden and reinvigorate my mind.

Which brings us to the writing assignment for today...which is to prepare your own 3x5 cards - look back over your life and determine certain ages where you felt you were at your happiest, with yourself.  And then for each of those ages prepare a 3x5 card adding sensory memory boosters to give a complete experience to the memory: 

Visual (a favorite scene, person, picture, smile, painting: any evocative images)

Auditory (a favoite song, the voice of a loved one, cheering crowds, laughter, sounds of nature - waves, wind, rain, crickets, etc)

Kinesthetic (i.e. what you were wearing, the weather etc. Pay special attention to how you felt in your body at the time and what you were thinking), 

Taste (a particularly wonderful meal or beverage and how it tasted; how delicious was it? sweet, spicy, cold, warm or hot?)

Smell (any scents or aromas associated with the scene - food, flowers, perfume or cologne, freshly cut grass, the ocean etc. Your sense of smell is intricately connected with emoitional memories in the brain's limbic system. It plays a particularly powerful role in both encoding memories and in supporting their recall.

This 3x5 card idea and the above descriptions are from the book: The Golden Lifestyle Diet by Robert Friedman, MD and Matthew Cross.

Doe a Deer, a Female Deer and Writing Assignment #28 Children

The doe lay uncomfortably in the shade of the trees outside Dale’s window. The serenity of her creamy tan body, white tail and large languid brown eyes made her a vision of peace and loveliness which defied the miserable way she must have felt.

Dale always had a “way” with animals.  Many years ago our neighbor’s children excitedly brought home a baby calico kitten. Dale had given them a visit one day and late that afternoon I found the kitten at our door step.  Dale took her back over to the neighbor.  Shortly after his return I opened the front door and there was that precious little kitten, so tiny she could fit into a teacup. Dale scooped her up and walked her back to the neighbors.  The next morning, once again there was the calico at our front door. This time the neighbor said that the kitten obviously wanted to live with Dale so we were given the gift of a tiny purring little friend that the boys quickly named Calico.

A year later at our small town’s annual summer days faire, a rodeo was held and tickets were sold to win a pony.  I chose to attend a different venue and I arrived home first afterwards and began setting the table for dinner.  The boys came bursting in the door announcing that Dad won a horse! The sweetest little colt I had ever seen. Buckskin colored with a cream colored mane and tail, actually more white than cream - kind of the color of a shooting star.  So we put the two descriptions together..shooting star and buckskin and came up with “Starbuck” as his name.  This was before Starbucks became a world wide coffee franchise.  It fit him and we fell in love with him and he fell in love with Dale.  We kept him at a stable that had a large field that stretched over acres of hills. We would stand and call Starbuck! Starbuck! and…nothing.  Dale would whistle once and down the hills Starbuck would run with his beautiful mane and tail flowing in the wind as he would gallop right up to Dale who would always have an apple in his hand.

Many years later, in the last months of Dale’s life he was too weak to walk up the stairs to his “man-cave” which we had created out of the apartment over our garage, so I re-purposed the guest room, taking out the bed and putting in a desk and a comfortable chair.  I was surprised, although Dale didn’t seem to be, when a beautiful doe walked up to his window and pushed her nose against the glass, looking at him.  They became instant friends and she appeared daily and would often lay down in the shade of a tree not more than 10 feet away from Dale.  As he worked at his desk she watched and rested.  Her very peacefulness brought comfort to his pain and grateful tears to my eyes.

But this day she looked as if she was not at ease.  I stood at the window and seeing her laying there I realized that her large belly was moving.  She was going to have a fawn.  The night came on and we were unable to see her. In the morning she was gone. Three or four days passed without a visit and then there she was! She walked up to the window and then looked back as if waiting for something…two little bambies joined their mom. 

We were overjoyed and delighted in their daily antics. Balancing on their long spindly legs and hopping in and out of each other’s way. Pure delight.

One day Dale spotted a coyote on the bluff at the edge of our property and took the coyote photos below. That night we heard the coyotes howling at the full moon until he stepped out onto the deck and whistled. They stopped instantly. It took so much of his strength to do that.

Dale was getting weaker and weaker and he spent most of his time now in a chair in the living room, too miserable to even lie down at night. One solid wall of the living room was a window looking out onto the bluff and over to the forest beyond.  He watched the sun go down each evening and the days awaken each morning.

One afternoon the doe returned. She was limping, I looked for her boys, but only one appeared.  She looked up at me with tired and sad eyes and I knew instantly that she had fought off the coyotes trying to protect her little ones.  Only one survived. What a hero! What a valiant warrior this mother was!  I praised her and prayed for her.  I was fighting my own battle keeping Dale comfortable, changing bandages, and desperately trying to serve his every need.

Day after day they both fought to live until one day, he was gone.

The doe continued to heal and her bambi continued to grow.  The white spots disappeared from his coat and when little nubs began to show on his soft head I knew that he would become a magnificent and healthy buck.  The days and months wore on as I showed the house to one potential buyer after another. A year went by.  The doe no longer limped although an ugly, dark scar remained on her thigh.  I stood at the window and watched her as the seasons slowly passed by.

A year and a spring after Dale died, the house sold.  Early evening and everything was packed - moving day was set for the next morning.  I stood one last time at the large window and I was happy to see the doe.  She looked at me and then walked to the edge of the bluff but before she left she turned her head and caught my eye.  And in that one beautiful moment, in my heart I truly understood her loss and I felt that she truly understood mine.

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #28 - CHILDREN

Write at least one descriptive and heart felt paragraph per child.  Like it or not...this will be the first chapter they will read in your autobiography...DO NOT LEAVE ANYONE OUT!

Tell about his/her birth,

Why his/her name was chosen,

What he or she was like as a baby,

What he or she means to you..

Relate any tender, humorous, spiritually uplifting, and rewarding experiences.

Be honest, be accurate, let the kind of parent you are show through your writing.

(Any praises or apologies might work here!)

   

My Journey in Quotes & Writing Assignment #27 Jr High/Middle School

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #27 JR. HS / MIDDLE SCHOOL

Adolescence is the age at which children stop asking questions because they know all the answers

Describe your Jr High/Middle School.  The layout of the campus, a classroom and favorite and/or a least favorite teacher.

This is the time when you started to develop a taste for the current fashion, music, slang or sayings. Give a detailed description of YOU at this time....clothes, hair...what you thought was "cool" or what was important to you.

Did you have an embarrassing, humbling and/or growing experience during this time? Share your feelings and how you "lived through" it.

Home life during this time period:

Who was waiting for you when you came home from school? What was it like?

Did you have chores to do?

Were you paid?  How much?

How did you earn "extra money"?

What did you spend it on?

Who were your friends?  Describe their looks and personalities. What influence did they have on you?

How did you spend your after-school time?

If television/radio was a part of your life at this time...what shows did you watch/listen to?

Video games?

Cooking like a Tuscan! And writing Assignment #26 - Recipes

I've discovered that grief doesn't ever go away, not totally. Probably because the sense of loss is always so prevalent. There is no denying that loneliness is a constant companion even in a crowd. I try to fill my life with distractions, not always successfully however because it's a constant 24 hour a day job even after this much time has passed since Dale died.

I grin and bear it but there are some days, like today, when my distractions aren't cutting it. So what's the answer? Oh how I'd love to hop on a plane and head to Italy! But alas, I am well aware that it is not something I can do now. And then, suddenly, the gift of a memory pops into my mind and leads me back to a time in Florence when I decided to take care of my loneliness there. The memory is calming to my agitated mind and seems to slow the pace of the unexplained feeling of a constant revving engine deep within me. Perhaps the recycling remnants of grief? 

I don't know, but for now, I'll use this memory, not as a distraction this time but actually reliving the joy and maybe even pat myself on the back for knowing how to solve the problem for loneliness then which means I should be able to figure out what I still need to do now.

In the meantime, here's my Tuscan memory.....

I bid a fond “Arrivederci” to my fellow students at the University’s Italian evening class that I was taking thanks to the arrangements made by my Polish housekeeper, a full time language student at the school.

It was evening now. The school was in the Altra Arno section of Florence.  I strolled back across the Ponte S. Trinita stopping midway to absorb the beauty of the full moon reflecting on the languid river. My growling stomach reminded me that it had been a long time since my nibble of percorino cheese and a few grapes at noon. I picked up my pace just a bit and made my way through the ancient streets of Florence. I could try a different trattoria each night and still not eat at all the glorious places in Firenze! What did I feel like this evening?   

The door of the Trattoria Maremma stood ajar and I floated in on the delicate fragrance of the roasting main course…roasted wild boar (cinghiale) infused with sage and rosemary.  Seated at a tiny table with a white linen cloth near the window, I nibbled on the crusty bread while I analyzed my homework of verbs and nouns and the rolling r’s that make the language so intoxicating.  Just the sight of the laden plate when it was set before me gave me a thrill…I was in for something very special!  Oh the fragrance, oh the delectable mingling of flavors and textures, oh how I needed to learn how to cook this way! I scurried back to my apartment, full, contented and eager to get to my computer and research cooking schools.   

Just one week later, the early morning bells of Florence chimed as if it were any other Thursday, but I knew better.  The Florentines would be going about their regular activities; meandering their way through the ancient streets on their way to work - stopping first at a cozy café to stand at a counter and sip morning espresso and munch on pastry. Soon, but not too soon, they would be opening their shops and wishing “Buon Giorno” to their holiday shoppers until they closed down again at 12:30 to have a leisurely two hour lunch before opening up their doors again for the afternoon.  I, on the other hand, knew that today was America’s Thanksgiving Day and I was going to celebrate and what better way than cooking! And I was going to learn to cook ITALIAN! Not the boring Roman food but the food of Tuscany!  Besides, without my family and in a far away country, I knew I needed to entertain myself to avoid the dreaded homesickness of explorers like myself far away from family on holidays….

So, I dressed in layers….piling on the thick woolen Florentine scarves and gloves that  I had purchased at the shepherd’s market in Piazza della S.S. Annunziata, my new black Italian coat and my good walking shoes. With my camera slung over my shoulder I headed out the door of my sweet little apartment with the wonderful terrazzo that has the sweeping view of Florence with the Duomo and Campinelle, the Bargello and the Badia, the bridges of the Arno and the Piazelle Michaelangelo all waiting for me to gaze upon…but not today!    I walked to the viale where Elizabeth, from Australia, picked me up her in silver hatchback and we headed out for an adventure.  

For forty minutes we chatted and drove, first on the autostrada and then winding our way on the narrow roads leading to a hillside village - past ancient farms and villas and under the arches of towers that have stood for a thousand years.  We stopped at a charming café to meet my host, a noble looking fellow who was born and raised in the castle Villa Pandofini, a palace dating back to the year 1200, built as a hunting residence for the elite Florentines.  Guests have included Napolean Bonaparte and King Charles VIII of France!  Two other stranieri (foreigners) were also there at the cafe and would be joining us on today’s quest.  We were going to the forest to hunt for the prized and elusive “white truffle” and then return to the massive tiled kitchen with two fireplaces to spend 5 hours learning the art of Tuscan cooking from two prominent Italian chefs followed by a feast of truffle laden dishes.  

One of my cohorts was a young ragazzo from Ireland who is the head chef on a yacht owned by the heir of the large fortune, he travels around the world stopping at ports to shop for local delicacies for the guests who fly on and off the boat via its helicopter!  The other was a lady from Seattle who has a catering business and teaches classes in Italian cooking and my qualifications the asked?...well … I eat therefore I am! I said.

So together with cups of hot espresso warming their tummies and ciocolata calda warming mine, we headed for the forest…acorn and oak trees not pines.  We met our guide, a 74 year old truffle hunter and his 8 year old dog, Tobia, whose reason for living (and it is a good one) being to sniff out truffle.  The day was crisp but sunny and the golden leaves crunched beneath our feet as we made a path through the foliage following Tobia. To find a white truffle is like hunting for gold in Alaska but before long (about 30 minutes) good old Tobia sniffed out a location and the hunter went to work digging…nearly 12 inches into the mountain soil and up he came with a round truffle about the size of a cotton ball. A prize valued at over 200 Euro…roughly 225 American dollars.  I held it in my hand and smelled the heady aroma that is unique to anything else! 

On we went deeper into the forest until again Tobia’s white tail wagged furiously and another prize was dug up. What luck!  Even the hunter was surprised and very pleased!  

The chefs, who know the real value of such things, were elated and I knew that a special meal was ahead. Our 8 course meal was prepared with great care and frivolity and the finished product was delicioso!!  

I was dropped back at the viale in Florence and walked home heavy laden with leftovers for my refrigerator.  It was a nice day. Little did I know then that it would make it a good day today!

WRITING ASSIGNMENT #26 - FAMILY RECIPES

The food we eat plays a major role is who we are!  Keeping a record of favorite family recipes as part of your autobiography is a good way to keep them alive.

Along with the recipe itself, tell what made it special.  Whose recipe was it? Why is it special? Describe who was with you as you ate it, where you were? 

If you love to cook, share your own recipes and maybe even some secrets to pass down to future generations!

Have Fun and include photos!

WOOHOO TO WHO? and Writing Assignment #25

I watched a parasailer the other day as he floated over the lake, beneath a parachute of many colors and high above the speed boat that kept him aloft.  “Oh the thrill he must be having” I thought, “The panoramic view; the coolness of the air; the”…and then I thought..”But there is no one with him to hear him exclaim "Woohoo!" No one with him to hear him marvel, "Oh look at that!" and "Oh isn’t this fun!”

So really, how much fun could that actually be?

Well I can tell you the answer to that as I sit here alone; it’s no fun at all. And just as I feel my cheek pull into a smirk I remember the bumper sticker I saw the other day:
 

“THE LIFESTYLE YOU ORDERED IS CURRENTLY OUT OF STOCK”

Well if that isn’t the truth! 

I’ve heard it said that whatever words you use to fill in the blank following the word “I AM ______” is who you become. And since it’s my life, I can fill in my own words - I AM SAD!  I am sad that death came between me and my best friend.  Even after 2 ½ years now I realize that I still can’t say I AM HAPPY.  I have happy moments, I can be completely happy for someone else but I am not or at least my heart is not happy.

Is Dale happy now that he is in a heavenly place?  I hope so, I really do but then I’m shocked to hear my mind repeat the words to the song “Jealous”

I'm jealous of the way
You're happy without me

Perhaps I’m ashamed for thinking it - him being happy without me!

Perhaps I’m angry at the thought of it

Perhaps I feel that I would feel guilty if I were to be happy without him

Or Perhaps, just perhaps, if I look beyond the jealousy or fear of guilt, I realize it’s perfectly OK for us both to be happy now. And that doesn't separate us but joins us even more closely.

He spent our married life making me happy (as I did him). Why would that change now?  I’m sure he’s saddened by my unhappiness. And HE wouldn’t be jealous if I said I was happy now.  I somehow feel that he understands that if I were to be Happy that it wouldn't mean that I’m happy without him.  Funny but I can hear his voice now saying as he used to say,” I’m happy if you’re happy!”

I am suddenly aware that I have been spending a lot time thinking of all of the things that I AM NOT. Gasp. That only fosters unhappiness.

Well I can see that I have some work to do, it won't just happen because I want it to. It will take work filling in the spaces after I AM ___________.

• Not filling them with negative things, or the self deprecating I AMs as in "I'm so dumb" or I'm so clumsy" Or the I'm Nots as in I'm not as talented or healthy, wealthy or wise as someone else) 
• And of course not the I AMs with things that would be prideful or conceited at all
• But with positive observances, as in I AM __________Therefore I can Be _____________.(and reserve my comparison with others who are better than me as a way to improve myself not to discourage my growth)

Ok, here I go, I should start my list with I AM A CHILD OF GOD and then I AM LOVED for the perfect base for happiness and then go on from there in a more specific way.  Adding more each day and becoming those positive things until as faith would have it I will be able to exclaim I AM HAPPY ~ Even if I’m floating through life now under a one person parasail.  I can still yell WOOHOO!

WRITING ASSIGNMENT #25 I LOVE / I HATE

Love and Hate are emotions that help determine who you are and have been so be specific, be thoughtful and answers these questions:

• To this very day I love__________________________. And I can trace it back to.
• To this very day I hate__________________________. And I can trace it back to.

Repeat as many times as you'd like.