It's All About the Journey

Today is your future. Live in the moment!


Celebrate Today

Today is National Apple Pie Day, I learned from the morning news, as I also watched Mr. Food’s Howard create Pineapple Honey Salad Dressing (Mmm…it’s so good!).

Why do we need national food celebration days?  Every single day is devoted to a national holiday of some kind, have you noticed that?  Is humanity THAT NEEDY, that we are ISO something better from every single day?

In my own personal walk, trying to ground myself, I stepped into previous writings ISO myself a little bit more.  Turning the inside out!

A dear friend shared a message with me a few years ago.  I recorded it.  I refer to it.  “You have the right to be who you are.  Stop apologizing for being you.  Stop trying to earn what is already yours.  You have earned this incarnation, so live it with integrity and fullness.  The mountain does not apologize, nor does it seek approval.  It simply is what it is.  Be what you are.  Your soul know its way.”  

Delve deep, go inside.  If you don’t meditate, or cannot meditate, pick your own way.  Art, music, writing.  Or go out of doors and stand in the grass to greet the earth and nature.  Breathe deep.  Grow the your flower inside of you, a rose of beauty.

Emerson writes:  The inner world of imagination becomes a sanctuary of hope and promise, a place of retreat for feelings and thoughts, where seeds of individuality and creativity incubate.

Now, isn’t that tastier than that $75 cup of coffee from beans from Panama?  Easier to obtain, but you do have to open the earth of your heart and soul, and bravely explore.

photo rose

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Dating

Midge ready to go out on the town.

Boyfriend Alan is ready!

“Do I look alright?”

Midge rolls her eyes. “It’ll do,” she sighs.

Typical male, huh?

Meanwhile Suzette is dressed to kill when Ken swings by

Ready?

And Cousin Francie gets ready for her girl gig

Stay tuned…

From the Very Young at Heart


A Young Girl’s Dreams

“I will never be able to marry Peter Tork now,” were the words that climbed out of my brain and through the process of thought.

Why did I think that?  I am a 62 year old woman now.  Those are the thoughts of the sweet pre-teen, as she teeny-bopped her way into the world to become the teen, and a child with lights in her eyes, and hope in her heart.

The truth is, I’m really not as old as I look.  I’m still 13.  I’m still 14.  I still have those wishful thoughts, the brightness in my mind’s eye, of a life that is idealistic and full of hope.

The days of youth–the crush on the latest star of television, watching The Dating Game, The Newlywed Game, all with dreams in our eyes.  The beautiful face of youth, the beehive hairdo and the thick eyelashes only made by Maybelline or Max Factor.

Songs that brought us daydreams by The Seekers, The Beach Boys, The Everly Brothers.  Ryan O’Neal and Ali McGraw’s eternal vow that Love means you never have to say you’re sorry.

We all were going to go to California and walk the streets of San Francisco.  Become a beach baby and, like Annette Funicello, have our Frankie fall in love with us.

The young girls’ dream.  Of convertibles, sunshine, movie stars, and living happily ever after.

Well, I have made to the living and the happily ever after is right where it’s at, even though I still have my young girl’s dream.


Psychology Today & Eudora Welty

I live among control freaks.  I should know better.  I should study my notes more: Glasser, Jung, Szondi, and a little bit of Freud.  I throw Freud in only because he was mentioned in articles so I didn’t feel it wise to throw him OUT.

I don’t even need to tell you why I am writing, you can read it all here, Eudora Welty explained it very well in the short story, “Why I Live at the P.O.”  This was originally published in 1941.

https://art-bin.com/art/or_weltypostoff.html

So the next time you think you have no control, comfort yourself with these words.  And smile.


Fanning My Flame

Surrounded by the comforts of my ancestors, words from the philosophies of Emerson and Thoreau, I am reminded of who I am and where my soul thrives. All of the outside world fades, for just this brief moment of time, and I fan the flame called my soul, into a roaring fire that drives me forward into 2019 and shows me that happiness is right here, inside of me.


Experiments in My Kitchen

Prep for Eye of Round Roast.  I found 4 in my freezer, from last summer’s butcher.  So, I ventured to my favorite cookbook (the internet) to see what it had to say.  I have chosen a simple recipe, which could make or break my family’s holiday meal scheduled for tomorrow.

Preheat oven to 500 degrees.  Salt and pepper the fat side of the roast, put in a roasting pan and place in the hot oven.  Reduce temp to 475 and roast for 21 minutes (or 7 minutes per pound).  Here comes the scary part:  Turn off the oven and let the roast sit in a hot oven for 2 1/2 hours.  Do not open the oven to check it.  Remove the roast, the internal temperature should have reached 145.  Let rest for 20 minutes.  Carve into thin slices and serve.

I have seen many variations on the recipe, but I have chosen this one.  Be on the lookout for “Part 2.”

You may see ham…


You Pop!

I think I may have had a revelation in the wee hours of this morning.

Now and then I read about slowly waking up and becoming aware of your surroundings. I don’t. I just POP and I’m awake. I never even realize I’m awake, I just am. My thoughts do not idly turn toward the day. They just are. A mile a minute. Then the cats come up to pretend their snuggle, when in reality they want to be fed now. I’ve got to hand it to them, they are shrewd!

Anyway, I’m thinking that this is what happens when you die. You don’t slowly and painfully realize it, you just are. You don’t even arrive bag in hand and say “where am I?” You just are there. It’s so ordinary it’s probably too profound to realize.

I’m guessing that my friend, Ruth, went through that. She had a cold (flu?) and wanted the comfort of her cot by her wood stove. She had her tea and her daughter helped her lay down. She shuffled to become comfortable. She slept. I can just see her now popping up and saying, “oh!” and looking around her. And then she got up and, I don’t know where she went, but assume she resumed her journey into afterlife. It would be nice to run into her and talk about it, but I’m not sure that happens. I know I will find out!

“Oh shoot! I should write about this! Let others know!” are my first thoughts (hence this post). Heck, I bet you don’t need me to tell you that. We will all find out on our own! I’m only letting you know in case you have concern, and just want you to rest easy. It will be okay.