My blog is about evolving from one particular “phase” into, or through, the next as seemlessly as possible. Just moving. No phases necessary. And mostly, to do so with grace. While my desire to accomplish this is sincere, it is clear that it is much more challenging than I first considered. It gets down to… Continue reading Regressing?
It’s been over five years since we moved from Pittsburgh to our little lake here in the middle of nowhere. Before moving, I speculated about what I would miss about living in the city. I thought I would miss having close neighbors, certain noises of the city, restaurants and cultural events such as concerts, the… Continue reading Stages
I have resumed playing my violin after years of leaving it in it’s case, leaning against the wall. One of the primary reasons I didn’t play for so long was that I can’t see to read music anymore. I had a cornea transplant that resulted in an injury to my iris, and trying to read… Continue reading Challenges
I think one of the more interesting things about minimizing is what to do with the items I come across that reflect the “fantasy me”. Coming to terms with the things I had hoped to do one day, but realize will probably not happen. A quilt pattern I had hoped to make for my then… Continue reading Lightening Up
Something I struggle with is the strong correlation between the weather and my mood. As the weather gets increasingly dark, so does my mood. The past week or so has been cloudy and rainy each day, and despite strong efforts to the contrary, I feel my mood sinking down. It isn’t going to get better… Continue reading Darkness
Part of the aging process, unfortunately, often includes the death of our parents. This is a real challenge for most of us, and doing so with grace can seem impossible. I’m sure that my way of dealing with my parents’ deaths could have been much more graceful. And I am also certain that I am… Continue reading And So Is Hers. . .
My father was my hero. He and I had that special connection that fathers and daughters sometimes have. He could tell I was getting a cold before I ever felt it, and he could sense when someone hurt my feelings. When I still lived at home, he would go to our local dairy and get… Continue reading His Life Is Worth Writing About