It's All About the Journey

Today is your future. Live in the moment!


How “it’s done!”

Leslie said, “this is how it’s done.”


No Mom! Said Jake, THIS is how it’s done!”


Now wait, says Grandma, this is how it’s REALLY done!”


(Videography by Joscelyn Studios)


Sounds Like Spring, Feels Like Spring

It’s 34 degrees and sunny outside.  The birds (blue jays mostly) are creating enormous havoc.  See?  I told you, “if we listen close enough, we can hear spring before we see it.”  

My grandson is 4 and he said, “it must be spring, it’s SO WARM!” (40 degrees)

We celebrated with a map of Tyringham Cobble (complete, of course, with ninjas, Moby Dick, and castle…)

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Life on the Inside

“I have made my world and it is a much better world than I ever saw on the outside.”  –Louise Nevelson

I used this quote yesterday and it has resonated throughout the last 24 hours of my world. I live my life on the inside. I’ve always been an inside person. As a child I spent most of my days in my dream filled world: of dollies and babies as a young child, in my little tree stand (one really couldn’t describe it as a “tree house” as it was just a small platform framed in a crook of the tree in my front yard). I remember “running away” one day. I had a woven old basket purse of my mother’s, which I put extra underwear and socks. I intended to start my journey by crossing the meadow, only to be waylaid by the snake that lay across the path, and deciding it wasn’t such a good idea after all. I spent my early teen years playing with my Barbie dolls: I had Tammy, Barbie, Francie, Tutti, Paul McCartney (the only male doll). These dolls were my family, their house was a large flat board in my room, and had furnishings from old jewelry boxes, a small cast iron stove, and beds from longer boxes. It was a sad day at 14 when I felt that I had to put them away, I thought I was “too old” for such childish play.

I lived my life through books, not unlike Francie from “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” Francie was always a favorite of mine. She wanted to be a writer, like me. Other books that I lived for were written by Agatha Christie, Victoria Holt, and Mary Stewart. There was something magical about their writings. I try to impress children to read. I tell them, “you can be anybody you want to be, travel anywhere you want to travel” just by reading. There is a whole world out there, via books.

I try to live my life simply. I try to do good for others. I designed a coffee shop just for this purpose. It worked for awhile, but economically it was a bust. Eventually it went the way of other small business’ here in America. No place for the American dream anymore.

I still live inside of my world. It is a much better place than the outside. I can live with my own opinions, I find others that are encouraging. I’m not sure that they live on the inside, but they seem to admire that I do.

I have only come to terms with this recently, encouraged by my mother, who told me, “you always have lived inside your own world.” Not a bad place to be…


The “preferred” meal

Little Miss!  We sat down to feast on a beautiful chicken dinner, very carefully prepared by my son, and she ate oh, maybe 2 bites of salad, one of potato and I’m not real sure about the chicken, but she did make sure she ate the contents of the dill pickle.  Then she ran off to play (after sitting, standing, moving to her daddy’s lap, moving off her daddy’s lap, making use of the bathroom facilities, and a few other distracting things with which to skip her dinner).  I caught up with her eating her own Thanksgiving dinner with her Barbie dolls.

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“Oh Tish!”

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My sister and I, close in age by 2 years, were always enjoying life and inventions with imagination. 

We had tree houses, grass forts in the meadow.  We dressed up in Mom’s flouncy 50’s petticoats and ran all over the house, believing to be the most beautiful in all the world. 

We had our moments with little devil horns popping out of our heads as well.  I remember us conning my little brother into “karate chopping” the chair.  We covered it with a towel and convinced him that it would NOT hurt. (yeah, yeah, shame on us)  I think that is the worst con we ever pulled though.

We were raised (believe it or not at this point in the story), to have strong morals and good character.  We were not allowed to swear, or use slang.  “Darn it!” was the strongest we were allowed.  We lived in fear of the adult, and were always respectful.  (In fact, I do not even remember thinking the swear words, that’s how much it was ingrained into us.)  I do remember an event at about age 3.  We were living in Watertown and I do believe that we were getting ready to watch The Wizard of Oz on that little black and white portable, when Dad swore at the cat.  Now, I don’t remember the exact wording, but I bet it was “Damn cat!”  I said, “Yeah…damn cat!”  and promptly got spanked.  (What was I thinking! Haha) 

So, let’s add to our world the secret of “Tish!”  Terri and I devised our own swear word.  It was effective indeed, every time we’d drop something, have something not go our way, etc., it was “Oh Tish!”  Then one day, while we were tishing our way through monopoly, my mother’s friend said, “They’re swearing!  They switched the letters around.”  Oh man!  The secret was out and it became a forbidden word, along with other slang words, and swear words.  

Mild compared to today, isn’t it?  But that was our world.  I laugh, but now being realistic, I think I prefer our world of back then to what I see now.  Anything goes with language, etc.  Topic for another day…