A Year Later

Dear Mom,

I've been avoiding acknowledging the one year anniversary of your passing for a couple of reasons. First, I wasn't sure what type of acknowledgment would feel right and second, I've been afraid of what emotions it might stir in me. However, you made it very clear when you came in my dream a few weeks ago that you're still close by and you miss hearing from me so what better way to honor the anniversary than to write.

A few milestones have taken place in the past year and I've felt your absence in a big way during them, wishing so much that you were here to share in the joy;

Your littlest grandson, the youngest of the twenty is now a teenager! Can you believe it? I can picture so clearly the day we brought him home from the hospital. You and Dad came over with some nice steaks for the grill to share in the occasion with us. Just as we were sitting down to eat he started screaming and I couldn't calm him down no matter what I tried. You were so concerned about me being able to eat while dinner was hot that you offered to take him but I was so stressed out I just barked, "NO!" at you and went on the front steps with him, probably having a good cry while I was out there. I also remember very clearly the look on your face when that happened, I had hurt your feelings with my gruff response and honestly I don't recall if I ever apologized to you for that . I hope so, because I have to tell you that it tears me up inside now that you're gone to know that there were so many times when I carelessly hurt your feelings. I'm so sorry Mom and I wish I could take all of those times back.

Anyway, that screaming baby is now on his way to becoming an adult and I think you'd be proud of him. He is everything good mixed with the attitude of a young teenage boy now and again but to me, his light just shines as bright as could be. Feel free to keep a close eye on him in the coming years as we navigate our way through the teens!

Your baby girl has turned fifty years old! I remember you telling me before you left that you couldn't believe I was headed to fifty with my next birthday. You told me I didn't look anywhere near the age...so sweet. I think the look of fifty has changed through the years, but I accept the compliment and carry it with me when I have those moments when I look in the mirror and am horrified at what I see. Thankfully, they are few and far between. I'm finding my life to be quite peaceful at fifty and I'm filled with gratitude for where I am. I know that it's part of life's cycle and I'd be foolish not to relish in the joys that are coming my way right now.

(Pause...just felt the urge to call and check in on Dad. He's fine - working on his crossword and watching Let's Make a Deal!)

By far the most amazing milestone to date is that of becoming a grandparent. My first grandchild was born three weeks ago and she is the most precious little child! She looks alot like her daddy did when he was first born with the one exception being her nose. I think she has her mommy's nose and a pretty little nose it is. I know you would adore her.

As if that wasn't enough of a blessing, we have another baby girl on the way in a few short weeks. We're all getting very anxious to meet her (especially her parents!) and I know when she arrives her cousin will be happy to share the title of "Most Beautiful Girl in the World" (I suddenly have the theme song to Miss America running through my brain). Of course as Grammy I'm saying my prayers for her safe arrival. Perhaps you could keep an eye on that as well for me?

I know I have BIG shoes to fill in the Grammy department. I can only hope to share the same kind of bond that you did with your grandchildren. There's so much of you that lives in me Mom, and I want to pass that along to the generations that didn't have the benefit of knowing you personally - "Inside of every human being are our ancestors still alive. Today, man calls this DNA, but there is more than DNA. We have the ability to go inside of ourselves and learn from the ancestors. The ancestor teachings reside in the place of the center. They are waiting for us to come there so they can share the ancient teachings. It is said, "Be still and know."" - I hope I do you justice.

So a year later, life continues to move forward and your family is doing it's best to move along with it despite your absence. I feel the movement, yet when I'm with you in my thoughts or dreams, it feels like yesterday that you were here. The bond that was so very important to you is still going strong among us all and the love you taught us to share is alive and well and weaving it's way into the newest generation of family.

I pray that you've been able to move on to a place of total peace, knowing we'll all be okay until we meet again. I miss you and look forward to seeing you in the stillness.

xo,
Carrie

Love Fest

I went to go pick up a little girl I've started watching from kindergarten the other day and I couldn't help but notice what an amazing love fest I was standing in the middle of! One by one the children would be let out of the door, only after the parent or caregiver had been spotted. The look on every child's face was the same, one of elation! They would run out the door, arms spread wide, squeeling "Mommmmmy" or "Daaaddddy" or simply squeeling and then jump into the arms of the person waiting. As if that wasn't wonderful enough, the reactions of the parents/caregivers were EXACTLY the same! They would squeel right back and scoop their little one up in their arms and squeeze tight. In those few moments after school let out I was completely engulfed in joy. Pure, air filling, heart warming, unbridled JOY! Even my little one, who I only began watching this week, greeted me with a smile and a hug. I was thinking as I stood there in the midst of this love fest, "I wish I could bottle this and sell it. All the benefits of prescription drugs without the side effects!".

I'm recalling what a demanding baby/toddler my thirteen year old was. He didn't sleep much during his first five years of life unless he was on my chest or some part of his body was in contact with some part of mine. As an infant he really wanted no part of anyone holding him but me, even my poor husband wasn't a sufficient substitute until he was over a year old. During those years, I needed to lay with him until he would fall asleep and then carefully sneak off into my bed. If I was lucky a couple of hours would pass until the feel of his peering eyes against my back would wake me from a sound sleep (yes, we mom's DO develop a sixth sense when it comes to our children!) and off we'd go, back to his room to repeat the process. After a good two years of doing this, I simply became too tired to continue the routine and would wake up many mornings in his bed.

I can't tell you how many people over those first few years offered their opinion on how to break him of his poor sleeping habits. Even people I didn't really know well felt it necessary to put in their two cents. Some loved me and saw how run down I was becoming and truly were trying to be helpful, others simply liked to hear themselves talk. Regardless of the opinions, I at the same time was living the teen years with my older boys and knew what was coming down the pike. While there were definitely days I wondered how I was going to function, the reality that this would not last forever and that he too would one day be grown, was always in the back of my mind. Knowing these times would never be revisited was what fueled me to keep going. I understood that what was happening, while draining, was very special.

The closeness my son and I shared during those years is irreplaceable. The stories I'd make up every night that always started with, "Once upon a time there was a little boy named _______ (I'd insert his name and then send him off on some wild adventure) and always ended with him saying, "That was a good one Mommy", those were special. Feeling his head resting on my chest and listening to his breathing slow as his little body twitched itself into a deep sleep, that was special. The touch of his hand on my arm in the wee hours of the morning so he could be reassured that I was still there watching over him, that was special. Knowing that he didn't need a pacifier or a certain stuffed toy or a special blanket, that all he needed to keep his world safe and secure was Mommy's love, and being able to give that to him, that was more special than I could ever convey.

Well...I was right. He's now entered his teen years and in order for me to get a hug or a kiss, I pretty much have to put him in a headlock! His usual show of affection is the occasional tug on my arm or a pushing contest or some other slightly aggressive teenage gesture. He'll still go to the movies with me, but only if it's at a theater where he can feel assured that none of his friends will be (and yes, as I was willing to lay down with him when he was young, I am willing to drive to another town for a movie if it means we get to spend time together). My advice is slowly becoming the "STUPIDEST" he's ever heard and I wouldn't get so much as a "Goodnight" if I didn't make a point of going into his room each night to offer it first. Sometimes, if I'm very lucky, when I say I love you I'll get a "Yup...you too".

I have the incredible blessing of my older boys who've taught me so much in life. They've taught me not to fret over the many phases that children go through because none of them are permanent. I remember being SO upset when my oldest decided to put a bunch of little braids in his hair during his teen years. I tried every trick in the book to get him to take them out but with no success. Three days later as he hiked in the woods, one got caught on a tree and it annoyed him enough that he came home and took them out! That's when I learned to pick my battles. My boys have taught me that what IS permanent is the love. If I can offer them love and affection through all of the different phases, it will be there for me in the end. Now that they're grown, they hug and kiss me freely. They tell me they love me all the time and I know my youngest will too. According to him, maybe when he's twenty-one.

Both of my older sons are going to be parents before the years' end. If I could give them and their wives one thing, I would give them the ability to enjoy every moment of the journey. To take advantage of all that each stage has to offer and to be open but not be afraid to listen to their own intuition over what the masses might be telling them. To know that the love is the only thing that matters, the only thing that's permanent and that all the other stuff is just that. Even the mistakes we make as parents can be rendered with enough love. I wish I could make them understand that the love fest days don't last forever but the memory of them and what they had to offer will, so savor it. Savor it all.

xo,
Carrie

Love After Love

I will be turning fifty very soon and while some dread the number, I feel thankful. Thankful for how incredibly blessed I am. Thankful to have the people, places and things that are a constant in my life. Thankful to be able to retrieve the positive outlook that resides in me, always close to the surface, even after a hard day, a hard journey, a hard loss. Thankful that while there have been times in my life when I have struggled to like myself, that day is not today. I have worked hard to be who I am at fifty and I am blessed with more love than I could ever give enough thanks for. I am grateful for the pieces of you that live in me, the pieces you've given so freely to me through the years and because of you, I am happy with who I've become. I love my life...and I am thankful.

I came across a poem this morning by Derek Walcott that speaks of how I feel so I'd like to share it with you -

LOVE AFTER LOVE

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored for another,
who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

xo,
Carrie

Slump

Just checked to see when my last entry was and am surprised that it's been almost a month! I think with summer vacations and starting another little boy in my daycare I've allowed myself to get into a bit of a slump in the writing department. If you're still checking in on me once in a while, please don't stop - I promise I'll be back.

xo,
Carrie

Lisa Shannon

Last night I was lying on the couch, watching the end of the World News when a story came on about a woman named Lisa Shannon. Lisa had been lying on her couch watching Oprah one day when she learned about the war going on in the Congo (considered the worst place on earth to be a woman), and the atrocities going on there. The war has been going on for eight years now, millions of people have been murdered and countless women have been raped and tortured. Think about that for a minute if you will - being raped, tortured, and then watching the Militia kill your husband and your child. Think about that while you sip your coffee or debate what to make for lunch in your air conditioned house while your kids play freely and your husband does, well...whatever he does.

At the time that Lisa saw this Oprah show she was gainfully employed and engaged to be married. Something came over her in that moment and she knew she had to do something to help - "Literally millions of people have been killed and they haven't been missed so I decided I needed to do something to send the opposite message to the women of the Congo". She started by sponsoring two survivors through Women for Women International who provide job training and education to these women but quickly felt like it wasn't enough. She decided to organize a 30 mile run to raise money so she could sponsor more women. She trained and when the day of the race came she had raised $28,000. She said that every half mile she ran represented another woman for her and she was able to complete the run. At this point in her life she felt like helping these women was the most important thing she could do. Her engagement ended and she spent more and more time organizing runs which now take place all over the world. She said, "I don't have a fiance but I have 1000 women in the Congo who consider me their sister.".

About two years after watching that Oprah show, she decided to go visit her "sisters" in the Congo. Despite everything these women have gone through, she was met with singing and dancing and joyful faces. "They kept the letters they'd received from me and other sponsors in pouches around their necks where the letters could stay close to their hearts - like they were the most important thing they'd ever received.".

One woman whose name is Generose told her story of when the robbers came in the middle of the night, killed her husband and then cut off her leg. Lisa decided to do a run right there in the Congo with her "sisters" and Generose, dressed in a beautiful red dress and pearls with her prosthetic leg on, did the run with her (and the other women). As of now, Lisa's decision to get up off her couch and do something that day has provided hundreds of thousands of dollars to the women of the Congo and up to 12,000 women have been sponsored.

After the story ended I looked at my husband with tears in my eyes and said, "I don't know about you, but that story sure makes me feel like a piece of shit". His response was, "Yeah, you can't even get yourself motivated to shampoo the kitchen carpet" (gotta love that man)! I am determined to help aid Lisa in her fight to help these women. I don't know how yet, but I will start by buying her book called - A Thousand Sisters- and googling information about how to help. I would ask that you do the same and the next time I start to whine about my life, I give you all permission to slap me.

xo,
Carrie

Alice

I just read an entry in the online guestbook that's being kept for my aunt by the funeral home. I could not have said it better myself -

"Every once in a while you meet a person in life who is the essence of goodness. You aspire to be like that person, to love the way they've loved, to give to others the way they do, to believe in faith the way they do. Alice was one of those people, she made me want to be a better person. I will miss her smile and her goodness."

Amen to that.

xo,
Carrie

Domestic Violence

As we are being bombarded with the phone calls that Mel Gibson placed to his girlfriend all over the media I am reminded of how many people are victims of domestic violence that you never hear about. The ones who don't record the phone calls and have the evidence blasted all over the radio waves because they are too fearful for their lives. The ones who live every single moment of every single day in that fear and keep it to themselves. The ones that never make it out alive.

I read something several years ago (6/1/03 to be exact) that struck me so deeply that I've kept it all these years and I'd like to share it with you. Maybe when you hear the next phone call from Mel to Oksana broadcast on the radio or television you can say a prayer for all of the silent victims.


WHISPERED APOLOGIES

Clenched fists with knuckles turning white
Fingernails cutting into the flesh of palms

Eyes narrowed and lips pinched like a shriveled rosebud
Fists punching walls as blood streams from the knuckles

Trembling hands shredding tissues,
until nothing remains but a pile of dust

Objects flying through the air,
smashing into a thousand tiny pieces on the wall
Screaming, yelling, punching, kicking...

Regretting...

Rivers of salty tears flowing from bloodshot eyes
Whispered apologies from a defeated face
Begging for forgiveness,
for something she didn't do...

I'm sorry.


xo,
Carrie

Don't Ask

My aunt passed away a week ago today. My oldest sister and I were with her while one of my other sisters went home to change and get an overnight bag as she planned to stay the night with her. Her passing was so quick and so peaceful and I want to write about it but I honestly have not processed it yet so I think I'll hold off on that. What I do want to share is something I've learned through the passing of my mother and my aunt, something that I myself have been guilty of many times and vow never to do again.

When someone shares the news of a loved one's passing with you, don't ask how old they were. Or if the person was up in age, please don't make a statement somewhere along the lines of, "Oh, well they lived a full life". I understand fully that there is a very different grieving process involved when a loved one is lost at a young age or in a tragic way but the point here is that when YOU are the person who has just lost a loved one, at that moment their chronological age is completely irrelevant. Someone you loved very much is gone and can never be replaced and an emptiness is left behind whether they're eight or eighty eight years old. A simple, "I'm so sorry.", or a "What can I do?", or a heartfelt hug is enough.

Age doesn't matter when you've said goodbye to someone who's been an integral part of your family. Age doesn't matter when you've said goodbye to someone who's loved you unconditionally for your entire life. Age doesn't matter when your heart is broken from the loss of a loved one, so please... don't ask.

xo,
Carrie

Another Goodbye

My aunt was having trouble breathing about two weeks ago so she went to the ER where they decided to admit her. She had a similar episode a few months ago when they found some fluid on her lungs and has been seemingly good since then. Upon admitting her this time they did a chest xray and found what looked like a spot on her lung so they made her an appointment for a CT scan. She was out of the hospital by the time the results were in so my sister (one of the two nurses in the family) went with her to the doctors appointment last week to hear the results. While they weren't exactly expecting good news, neither of them were expecting to hear what they heard. There was no part of her lungs that did not show cancer and there was also a spot on her liver. I'm not sure you can hear a worse diganosis.

She's been staying at a rehab facility since she got out of the hospital and since then I've seen her several times. We've had a couple of "heart to hearts" which I'm SO thankful for because I just got a call from my sister that she's back in the hospital, two doors down from where my mom was. Damn it! I just stated to my daughter in law this morning that I was afraid this was going to progress much quicker than any of us are ready for and now I'm certain of it. My aunt has been dealing with kidney disease for a few years now and has faithfully gone to dialysis approximately every other day since she learned of it. She has been diligent about following a strict renal diet and has never lost the faith. Well, she just informed my sister that she is done with it. No more dialysis and someone please...bring her a tomato!

When I go see her tonight I will bring her the same medal I gave to Mom which she did not let go of her entire last week of life. The one that fell off of my keychain the day before the surgery that would prove to be the beginning of the end for her. The one that has a beautiful angel throwing stars into the sky on one side and the words "Protected by Angels" on the other. I can only hope that it will bring my aunt the same sense of comfort and protection that it did my mom.

The reality that my aunt has reached her final destination (here on earth) is setting in as I write this and I know now there is nothing left to do but shower her with hugs and kisses and prayers. Nothing left to do but be there with her to help make sure her needs are met in these final days. Nothing left for me to do now but accept that it's time for another goodbye.

xo,
Carrie

Hurtful words

Why is it that the people who are suppose to love us the most can say/do the most hurtful things? Is it because in time we just take someone's love for granted and believe that there's nothing we can say or do that will interfere with that love? Is it because we're tired or cranky or stressed or just plain fed up? Is it because we've lost the ability to hear our own words? At what point in a relationship do we cross that line? When do we go from not wanting to hurt our loved one's feelings for anything in the world to letting whatever wants to come out, come out with no second thoughts to the harm it could be causing? Do we stop caring or do we just stop paying attention?

I have been married for twenty eight years now and I have been both the giver and the receiver of some very hurtful words. Even after all of these years it never ceases to amaze me the power that words can have. I think it's important to remember that power, remember that words have the ability to cut straight to the heart. Let us not forget that words linger. You may have long forgotten those words spoken but the receiver's heart has not.

I know there are all sorts of circumstances that cause us to be careless with our words and I also know that there are times when our intention is to hurt because we've been hurt ourselves but here is the truth (my truth) about that - it's NOT okay. There is never a time when it is okay to use your words to make someone feel stupid or helpless or less than. It is not okay to chip away at someone's self esteem or say things to demean or promote a sense of inadequacy in someone because you're in a bad mood. It's not okay to burst someone else's bubble to inflate your own and it's definitely not okay to believe that you are superior in any way shape or form to another human being.

It's not okay - so just STOP.

xo,
Carrie

Monday

It's Monday morning after vacation and I'm reminded of how tired you feel on that first work day morning after you've been away. I'm not sure why that should be, our vacation consisted of nothing but relaxing by a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains. I think it must be about the hours you keep while on vacation and at least for me, it's difficult to sleep well in a bed that's not your own. Oh, who am I kidding? For me, it's difficult to sleep well period!

All in all, it was a wonderful vacation. Our son and his wife, two of my brothers and their wives as well as my dad were able to be with us for a few days which really added to the fun. It was nice to see my dad enjoying himself. My husband took him out fishing on the boat which he was very excited about.

You'd think that being away and in vacation mode you wouldn't miss a loved ones presence as much but it was the opposite for me. I really felt my mom's absence last week. There are still so many times when it just doesn't feel right that she's not around. Seeing my dad sitting on the end of the dock in a chair all alone just felt wrong. Knowing that the extra twin size bed in the room my son was staying in would be sufficient space for Dad to sleep in felt strange. Maybe it's because I was surrounded by the beauty of nature and whenever that happens I find myself looking for her and asking the question, "Where are you?". I know some of you might be tempted to answer that question for me but I don't see it as a question that anyone could answer but her. "Where are you now Mom?"

Maybe it's because my parents anniversary fell during our vacation time. They would have been married fifty-seven years on June 20th. I couldn't help but recall that day in the hospital when my mom couldn't talk because she had a tube down her throat and she put her hand over her heart, then my dad's and held up five fingers, then six to signify the fifty six years they'd been married. That's something that none of us will ever forget.

The last night that my dad and siblings would be visiting we decided to go out to dinner together. My brother brought up the subject of a stone for mom's gravesight seeing as nothing has been placed yet. Those of us there agreed on what should be done, pending approval of the rest of the family but as the conversation went on, my tears started to flow. It was one of those times that all the self-talk in the world, trying to convince myself to stop, was not going to work. I excused myself, had a good cry in the ladies room (thankfully noone entered while I was in there!), and returned to the table. I've only been to the cemetary a couple of times since Mom passed in October, it's still too difficult to face the reality of what waits for me there. The thought of a stone with her name on it brings that reality home even harder.

I took a ride over to my dad's house yesterday to show him my new car (can you say WOOHOO!?). After we went for a ride I went in to see his new TV, his old one died and he wasted no time in replacing it. His TV is his companion now and I'm happy he found a nice new one to carry on that job. Anyway, I started fussing with his plants a bit, most of which were pretty sorry looking. One African Violet could not be salvaged and had to be thrown in the trash can. I could feel the emotions brewing when the thought came that even the poor plants miss Mom. I could see her so clearly in my head tinkering around the kitchen, watering those plants. It still just doesn't seem right without her there. The thought even came into my head (briefly) that I wish Dad would move. Maybe if he lived in a place she'd never been it would be easier to be there. Somehow my dad has found a way to be there and carry on. Perhaps he's comforted by her lingering presence there. I remember when my aunt was thinking about selling her house several years after my uncle died she confided in me that she hadn't been able to do so because it was the last place she could still feel him. She was afraid if she left she wouldn't be able to feel his presence any more. I can't tell you how long the grieving process takes. Perhaps I need to accept that it may have no end. It's been eight months and to my heart it seems like a little blip in time, but time keeps moving on.

Oh well, it's Monday morning and it's back to the grind. Baby's waking up in his swing and is letting me know it's chow time. I get to give him cereal for the first time this morning, another indication that time is moving forward. Happy Monday all.

xo,
Carrie

Color

Come the last week of August I will begin caring for a two and a half year old little boy. Having just gotten back into caring for little ones I've been a little apprehensive about taking on a toddler full time. What have I forgotten? Am I still organized and energetic enough to care for more than one little one at a time?

Yesterday I went with a friend, who is presently watching the boy I will be inheriting from her in August, to a playgroup that they attend on a weekly basis. I thought it would be a good idea for me to spend some time with him before August and also get a feel for the playgroup as I intend to carry on this tradition. When we left the playgroup I had the answers to my questions - sort of and yes, respectively!

I have forgotten - I've forgotten the incredibly LOUD sound it makes when you put twenty plus toddlers in a room together! It is the most uplifting, invigorating sound I know. Even the cries are invigorating because they evoke in me a call to action, "What can I do to help?" "How can I make it all better?". You're always calling on your problem solving skills when you're around little ones. Of course, they're not always open to the solutions!

Apparently the trash can had been moved since the last playgroup and I got the biggest kick out of watching the kids attempt to throw their trash away after snack time. One by one they'd come running up to where the trash used to be, enthusiastically anticipating a "Good job!" from mom or caregiver for their willingness to clean up after themselves, only to be met by a big barrel filled with blocks. The look on their faces was priceless! They'd stand there looking utterly confused and stare at the blocks, not saying a word, as if in disbelief. Maybe if they stood there and stared long enough the garbage can would re-appear? Then they would start scanning the room and if they didn't see the trash can you'd hear a loud "HEY!" or some chose to run back to the table and leave the garbage there. After watching this for a few minutes I decided to park myself closer to the blocks so I could redirect the flow toward the trash can seeing as it seemed kind of mean to continue to watch this happening. Mostly my directive was met with appreciative smiles but I also got a few loud, "Hmph's", as if to imply how DARE you move my trash can when I was just getting the hang of this! Have you ever read that book, Who Moved my Cheese? Well apparently all you have to do to rock a toddlers world is move their trash can! Oh, how quickly we become attached to our routines.

I'd also forgotten how good it feels to be surrounded by bright colors. Bright blue homemade play dough (how much did you used to love playing with playdough?). A rice table (can you say MESS?) with the rice dyed hot pink and bright blue, blocks of every primary color, tissue paper of every shade of purple you can imagine cut into little squares waiting patiently for the kids to come glue them in place and turn them into beautiful butterflies. Yellows and greens, reds and blues, purple and pinks. I wonder at what age we allow ourselves to be taken over by nuetrals!

I think people who surround themselves with color have an ability to see a more colorful, joyful world. How many times have you felt yourself being drawn toward a couch, or a piece of clothing or some funky, colorful shoes only to talk yourself out of it, convincing yourself that it's too loud or even worse (drumroll please), "Inappropriate"? God forbid we risk being inappropriate!

I remember when a couple who moved into our neighborhood decided to paint their front door and shutters pink. The chatter in the "hood" went something like this, "Can you believe the poodle people (they own two poodles and always walk them in the middle of the road, thus the name) painted their door and shutters pink? Oh my GOD, it's the most hideous thing I've ever seen! What were they thinking?", etc., etc.. I decided I had to see for myself so I took a walk down the street of mainly tan, brown, grey and white houses and when I came to the poodle people's house I felt myself smiling. I thought it was the prettiest shade of salmon pink and it looked lovely against their light grey siding. They had placed a wreath on the front door which broke up the color a bit and planted pink flowers amidst other colors in a flower box on their front walk which I thought brought it all together beautifully. I was thinking as I walked home, "Really? THIS is what all the hubbub was about? Really?!"

I think young kids are still in a highly spiritual state, having just been sent from God. They haven't had time to be tainted by the world yet. That leads me to believe that bright colors are representative of Gods beauty. Why else are we mesmerized when we catch sight of a rainbow? Why else do we find peace in the colors of a vibrant sunset? Color's where it's at if you ask me!

Anyway...being at this playgroup brought back memories of my pre-school teaching days. I've known the woman who facilitates this group for years and I told her my instinct was screaming at me to jump right in and help her. That feeling answered those questions for me. It's like riding a bike, you forget but it comes right back once you hop on. Being around small children feeds my energy level. I equate it to going to a restaurant that's not busy at all and getting lousy service vs. going to a very busy restaurant and getting great service. The chaotic environment breeds the motivation. Just as yawns are contagious, so is high energy.

I will do just fine watching two little ones. I'll do more than fine, I'll start living in color again. Don't be surprised if the next time you see me I'm wearing something completely loud and inappropriate!

Talk to you soon...think I'll go hide the trash can on my husband and see what happens!

xo,
Carrie

Hi!

So...did I say 365 posts? Perhaps I meant 65! I haven't taken a minute to sit down and write since my last post. The days have gotten busier for sure. I started watching a baby on Mondays and Wednesdays, soon to be Fridays also and I'd forgotten how all consuming it is to watch a baby. I don't bother picking up a pen on the days that he's here for certainty that I will be interrupted. I am enjoying watching him very much.

I also decided to go back to my client on Tuesdays and Thursdays after one week of being gone. I spoke with her to see how it had gone with the new caregiver and unfortunately it hadn't gone very well. I felt compelled to offer to come back for the summer and she was thrilled with the offer. I hope by then a suitable replacement can be found. That sounded a little bit like I'm tooting my own horn didn't it? I don't mean to. I know that I do have alot of patience and in order to be a compassionate caregiver, patience is a must.

I'm not certain if I've shared with you that my husband and I are going to be grandparents...TWICE! My oldest son's wife is due in December and my middle son's girlfriend is due in October. There's alot I could share about both pregnancies but out of respect for my children I'm just going to say we're THRILLED at the prospect of having two new little lives coming into the family and I'm thankful to have my mom watching over them.

It's a beautiful morning and I think I'm going to go for a walk now but I just wanted to let you know I haven't fallen off the face of the earth!

xo,
Carrie

Food

I have been dealing with some G.I. issues for a few years now. After getting an upper endoscopy and learning that I had inflammation of my esophogus I decided to not take the doctors advice of going on a proton inhibitor and seek the advice of a naturopathic doctor. I can't tell you how happy I am that I made that choice. Not only has she helped me to feel better but working with a naturopath has opened my eyes to a whole new way of thinking when it comes to healing our bodies. "The world is facing the largest health crisis in recorded history. Modern synthetic practices have all but destroyed us. Every illness of the past, so carefully kept under control or thought to be eliminated, is emerging in more and more virulent scourges, as artificial suppressants no longer avail. Stronger medications are manufactured that only further stifle health. Earnest but futile researchers mutate generations of animals. They seek answers in unnatural compounds, as chronic poor life marches us toward the grave with the names of new illnesses scratched across the tombstone."

The other night I was in Whole Foods and came across a book that has really captured my attention called Alkalize or Die by Dr. Theodore A. Baroody. The book is a little confusing at first because there is ALOT of information in it but the basic message is that in order to be healthy and STAY healthy you need to maintain the proper alkaline-acid (pH) balance in your body. The first sentence in the first chapter says, "The countless names attached to illnesses do not really matter. What does matter is that they all come from the same root cause...too much tissue acid waste in the body!" "Think about it this way...Too much acidity in the body is like having too little oil in your car. It just grinds to a halt one lazy Sunday afternoon. There you are - stuck. The body does the same thing. It starts creaking to a stop along the byways of life and you find yourself in some kind of discomfort. I watch this with great concern as people of all classes and lifestyles suffer from this excess. It is the bane of rich and poor, young and old alike. Meat eaters and vegetarians are not exempt. Cowboys and congressmen also suffer its gradual effects."

While there are other factors that can affect our pH balance such as our emotional and spiritual well being, exercise, medications (nearly ALL prescription and over the counter medications are acid producing, thus the 'cure one ailment and a new one pops up' syndrome), it's really pretty simple - EVERYTHING we put into our bodies does one of two things - helps it or hurts it. The things that help it have more alkalinity than acid and the things that hurt it are more acidic. Our bodies have a reserve of alkaline so when we foolishly eat things that put us into a highly acidic state our body immediately attempts to rebalance itself but here's the thing - we do not have an endless reserve and once it's gone, if we don't replenish it through our diets, guess what happens? The acids deposit into our tissue and start to make us ill. It's ultimately what causes disease of all kinds, "When there is overindulgence in acid-forming foods (especially fried or processed foods), the body sickens. In its marvelous wisdom, the body will make every possible effort to rebalance this transgression by expelling as quickly as possible, all the acid-forming residues. But when this alkaline reserve is depleted, death follows."

The book has lists of foods and their alkaline/acid levels and a wealth of other information that I will have to continue to refer to before I actually comprehend it but it all makes perfect sense to me. Especially seeing as I've come to know my body and it's reactions to food very well over the past few years. I can accept what Dr. Baroody says as truth because it's been my personal experience.

Here's what I found to be maybe the most important thing said in the book so far, while I truly believe 1000% that it matters WHAT we put into our body, it is just as important to eat the proper portion of food -

"On reviewing nearly 2000 reported cases of persons who lived more than a century, we generally find some peculiarity of diet or habits to account for their alleged longevity; we find some were living amongst all the luxuries life could afford, others in the most abject poverty - begging their bread; some were samples of symmetry and physique, others cripples; some drank large quantities of water, others little; some were total abstainers from alcoholic drinks, others drunkards; some smoked tobacco, others did not; some lived entirely on vegetables, others to a great extent on animal foods; some led active lives, others sedentary, some worked with their brains, others with their hands; some ate one meal a day, others four or five; some few ate large quantities of food, others a small amount; in fact we notice great divergence both in habits and diet but in those cases where we have been able to obtain a reliable account of the diet, we find one great cause which accounts for the majority of cases of longevity: moderation in the quantity of food."

"You are what you eat" (and how much) or better yet, "You are what you ingest". Now go eat an apple or something (preferably with no chemicals on it)!

xo,
Carrie

The Lake

Hard to believe, but summer vacation will be here before I know it. Another school year almost behind us, another year of life lived. I remember my mother saying that the older she got, the quicker the time went by and I'm finding that to be true for myself. My youngest son is going to be a teenager in less than a month. I remember when he was just a line through a circle, a positive pregnancy test that had both my husband and I in shock. He was a surprise and what a wonderful surprise he's been. Yes, the time is going by and not only does it go by quicker as I age, it becomes more precious.

We are fortunate enough to be able to vacation once again this summer at the lake where I wrote the following poem. It's a place where time stands still just long enough to offer a sense of renewal and instill a deep gratitude for the gift of time. I'd say I can't wait to be there, but that would be wishing away the next few weeks and thankfully...I know better!

Do yourself a favor today and S * L * O * W * D * O * W * N - and of course, be thankful.


ODE TO THE LAKE

Time, beautiful time
We take advantage of you so
Tomorrow this, tomorrow that
Always more time, I know

The earth calls out, "Enjoy me now!"
I do not hear her pleas
To quiet all that screams inside
And walk among the trees

The soothing motions of the water
Invite me to come in and play
Yet I ignore the invitation,
"Sorry, no time today."

The Gods look down in silence
And wonder when I might see
Am I ungrateful or simply blinded
To the treasures surrounding me?

The things I allow to swallow me up
My job, the bills, endless chores
All the countless daily routines
Won't lead me to heaven's door

But today in this place, I think I hear you
Your rolling hills are calling my name
The gentle breeze you've sent to calm
Is telling me things won't be the same

Now that I'm in on your secret
I'll be more open to your voice
You're always here to offer me peace
And the taking is always a choice

Our time on this earth is not endless
I've got but one life, as me, to live
So time, time, beautiful time
I thank you for each moment you give

xo,
Carrie

Mom

It's scary sometimes how our minds can play tricks on us. I saw a woman when I was shopping earlier who from behind looked exactly like my mother and for a split second I wanted to run to her. I could actually feel my body begin to lunge in her direction. Of course when she turned around it wasn't my mother, nor did she look anything like her, but from behind...

I wanted to hug her with all of my might. I wanted to tell her of all the change coming down the pike in my life. I wanted to hear the excitement in her voice and watch her eyes light up as I told her I was going to be a grandmother. I wanted to feel her arms wrapped around me and her hand wiping my tears away as I buried my head in her shoulder and told her how much I've missed her. I wanted to buy her some Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

Needless to say it was a very tearful drive home from the grocery store. They say that time makes grief more tolerable and I'd have to agree with that. It doesn't visit me as often and I'm starting to be able to recall joyful moments with joy instead of sadness but on the days when it hurts, it still hurts so much.

xo,
Carrie

Miss H.

Today is my last official day with my client. I'll be starting to care for an eight week old baby next week and I can't commit timewise to both jobs. My time with her has been a wonderful experience and I'm going to miss her.

I'm going to miss her sense of humor. It's amazing with all of her health issues that she still has one, but boy does she ever! I'll miss when she makes up her own words because she can't remember the proper pronounciation and I have to rack my brain to try to figure out what it is she's saying to me so as not to embarass her. I'll miss trying to decipher her grocery lists when words like bowels appear on it instead of bowls. I'll miss the sweet aroma of her Popeyes fried chicken where a weekly trip to the drive through has been part of the routine since I began with her over a year ago. I told her the other day that if I die before she does, I want her to bring me a piece of Popeyes chicken on my deathbed so I can go to heaven knowing if it tastes as good as it smells! She said, "But then everyone will say that Miss H. killed you with her gluten chicken, but I'll do it for you baby."

That's another thing that I will miss greatly, her calling me baby. "How you doin' baby?", "It's okay, it's in God's hands baby." She has definitely been good for my self esteem. Noone else says to me, "Girl...if I had a figure like yours, I'd be gettin' busy ALL the time!" I'll never be able to hear Aretha sing "Respect" again without envisioning Miss H. belt it out (slightly off key) at the top of her lungs while snapping her fingers and grooving to the beat as we ride down the road.

I know one of the things I'll miss most is the feeling I get when she allows herself to become vulnerable with me. Like when we're at the doctors office and she has the nurse come and get me from the waiting room to come and be with her because she doesn't want to be alone when the doctor delivers the latest update or reprimands her yet again for not following his orders. Or like the time when I accompanied her to a medical procedure that she was petrified to be put to sleep for because the last time she'd been put to sleep there were complications and she almost didn't wake up. There was a nurse doing the pre-procedure check in who was not being very sensitive to that fear at all and though my client is very capable of speaking up for herself, she sensed my extreme irritation with this nurse and invited me to speak up on her behalf simply by giving me the look that I've come to know means, "Have at it!" Sometimes even though we're capable ourselves, it's just nice to know that someone has your back. Knowing that someone trusts you enough to show their vulnerability feeds the desire to guard that trust with your life.

There's alot I'm going to miss about her, even the stories that I've heard at least 100 times about all of the dysfunctional people in her building. One time I was there and the person living above her was walking around in what my client perceived as a purposeful manner in order to make noise above our heads, so she grabbed her cane and started whacking the heck out of the ceiling, leaving a mark every time and yelling, "Yeah, we hear you...we hear you!" That was one of my first introductions to Miss H. and I knew right then and there that my time with her was going to be very entertaining.

I'll especially miss her faith. Her faith, like the rest of ours, is challenged on a daily basis but somehow she manages never to lose it. It's inspirational to be around and I think that might be the most important lesson I'll take with me. That or if you're a size 52 DDD you can hide just about anything in your bra and noone will notice! One day we were driving and all of a sudden I heard a beep coming from her chest. We looked at eachother with puzzled faces as she reached into her bra and pulled out a portable phone which she had forgotten to put back on the charger in her living room. I laughed so hard when she proceeded to tell me that when she was living back home in a not so great neighborhood she used to pack a pistol in her bra! Can you imagine?

Oh yes, it's been an enlightening time and while I plan to keep in touch, I know life happens and the best of intentions can fall by the wayside. I know I've helped her in numerous ways over the past year and a half but I'm not sure if she knows how much she's helped me to grow as a person. I'm going to make sure I speak that to her today.

Thank you Miss H. I'll miss you and I'll always be grateful for our connection. God Bless.

xo,
Carrie

Cranky

I am an absolute bear today! I can feel it creeping slowly, taking over my entire being and I'm not sure how to shut it off this morning. EVERYTHING is irritating me! My aches and pains, especially this sore jaw that keeps recurring and I haven't figured out the source yet, the sound of the phone that keeps ringing nonstop, the sight of the dust on the furniture and the dirty dishes and the piles of laundry. Walls that are in need of painting, closets that need to be cleaned and organized, windows that are still screaming to be cleaned despite the numerous attempts (in my head) to tackle that project. The bills and the lack of money to pay them leading to this feeling of inadequacy that is making my head pound. My every thought this morning is just pissing me off!

The poor dog, whose latest thing is to have an anxiety attack whenever he gets gated in the kitchen because of muddy or wet paws or I've just vacuumed and would like to enjoy an hour of seeing no dog hair all over the house, is getting on my last nerve! Earlier, after he'd been outside for some time, as soon as he saw the gate going up he started the shaking and the panting. Knowing I'm in no mood to deal with that this morning I walked away and went upstairs to start sorting some laundry. Next thing I know, I hear him banging the gate against the doorway in an attempt to move it with his nose and a minute later, guess who appeared at the top of the stairs? I'm sure he was very proud of his escape, that is until he encountered me up there. He then realized very quickly that he'd made a very BAD choice! I screamed at the top of my lungs "KITCHEN!" like a mad woman and for some strange reason he began running away from me, into every room of the house BUT the kitchen and of course I kept chasing him screaming "KITCHEN" louder every time. My son finally surfaced from his room, grabbed the dog by his collar and said, "Why does he need to go into the kitchen?". I yelled back, "Because his paws were wet and I'm SICK of this behavior! My son knew enough not to take it any further and helped me by escorting the dog back into the kitchen. As the dog sat in the corner shaking uncontrollably and panting like crazy I looked at him and yelled, "Yeah...you BETTER shake now!". Oh man...I'm going to hell, I just know it.

Some days no matter how hard you try to fight it, it's just bigger than you are. Some days, all the blessings in the world just aren't enough to silence the "Oh woe is me" thoughts that take over and make for a miserable day.

I have a client in less than an hour and I'm quite certain that once I get out of my house and out of my head my mood will shift. I'll attempt to do the things that normally make me feel better when I feel like this, like writing this blog, taking a walk, sitting in the sun and maybe calling a friend. I'll try hard not to fall into old patterns of drowning my feelings with food which will ultimately make things worse and be thankful that I no longer have a desire to drown them with alcohol. Maybe I'll make a card or two.

I'll give it my best shot and hope that this day ends in a very different place than it has begun but if you drop by later and see my husband in a corner of the kitchen shaking uncontrollably, you'll know I didn't succeed!

xo,
Carrie

Inner Critic

I went shopping for jeans yesterday because I've come to accept that the few pounds I put on over the winter are not going to just miraculously melt away after a couple of trips to the gym. It's amazing what putting on a pair of jeans that are too tight (especially when they used to be considered my "fat jeans") can do to my mood.

I have been part of a Womens Group for many years now. We meet once a month and go on retreat together once a year. You never really know what the topic of conversation will be at our monthly meetings. The groups always take on a life of their own depending on what the needs are of the individual members when they walk through the door. Sometimes you don't even know what your own needs are until you come in, plop yourself down on a comfy chair or couch, look around and see the faces of your trusted friends and get the massive jug of chocolates which is a staple at these meetings placed securely in your lap. Then it comes. Much to your surprise it comes with vigor and it continues to spew, sometimes so forcefully that it takes your breath away. I'm always amazed at what you can let go of when you're in a safe environment, surrounded by kindred souls.

Anyway, the other night we got on the subject of the "inner critic". It has other names as well, a couple of which are "negative self talk" or perhaps "The devil"! Whatever you call it, you know it well I'm sure. It's that voice inside of your head that says things to you that are so hurtful you could never fathom saying them to or even believing them about another person. The voice that when I put on those tight jeans screams out, "You are such a disgusting fat PIG! How could you let yourself do this? You are such a LOSER!". But it doesn't end there, I then walk around feeling somehow not good enough as the waistline of my pants cuts into my stomach and the inner critics words cut into my heart.

If we allow ourselves to buy into the words of the inner critic it not only has the potential to affect our mood, it has the potential to affect our life. We don't need to be in a relationship with an abuser to suffer the affects of abuse when we're oh so capable of dishing out that abuse to ourselves.

So what do you do when that voice starts to chime in? I'm sure there are many methods that have been documented on how to deal with this phenomenon effectively. One woman in group says that she asks it nicely to leave the room while she tries to figure out what the message behind the voice is. I on the other hand am not so nice! I've gotten very good at yelling back until it subsides a bit. Or I ask myself what I would say to my children if they were saying these things about themselves and then say those things to myself as many times as I need to until I feel better.

Sometimes the voice of the inner critic is just a big, fat liar and needs to be dealt with as such but sometimes the voice of the inner critic is calling for action, and that's not always a bad thing if like my friend, you can silence it long enough to figure out what that call to action is. Whatever methods we use, I think it's important to remember that we're not alone in our battle against the inner critic and we do have the power to silence it.

Gotta go...my inner critic is calling me to the mall!

xo,
Carrie

Prayer

I received an email from a friend yesterday asking for prayers for a mutual friend whose eleven year old niece died on Friday. This is the kind of news that rocks you to your core, especially when you have young children of your own. I didn't know the little girl or her parents personally but when you hear something like this I don't think you need to in order to be able to relate to the type of loss it is and how life altering it will be for all involved.

We have friends and relatives who have lost children and I can honestly say I believe it's a loss you never recover from. Our friends and family have carried on and I'm happy to say appear to have found joy in their lives again but you know there's a part of them missing that will never return.

I was watching the news last night while eating dinner and was listening to President Obama talk about how the biggest threat to our nation (and the world) would be if terrorist organizations were able to figure out how to build a nuclear bomb. He assured us that they would not hesitate to use it (silly me, I thought it was a President's job to reassure a nation). I suddenly lost my appetite.

I know that when I first started writing this blog I promised not to talk too much about religion and for the most part I think I've kept that promise but let me tell you something - if you don't believe in something bigger, something stronger and more powerful or a loving creator of some sort with a loving, peaceful intention for us all then I don't know why this life would be worth living.

Regardless of who/what you direct it toward, sometimes a prayer is all you can offer and a belief that it is heard can mean the difference between hope or defeat, joy or despair. Sometimes a prayer is your only saving grace and today I am offering mine to all in need.

xo,
Carrie

Hope

I promised myself I would get up and write first thing this morning. It's 6:08 and my vision is still a little blurry, as are my thoughts. It sounds like it's raining outside. I guess I can't complain after the beautiful summer like weather we've had for early April (92 degrees last Wednesday).

I went to my girlfriend's mother's wake last night. She passed away at noon on Easter Sunday. My friend is going through the motions but I know her brain hasn't had a chance to wrap itself around what's happened yet. She's still in shock mode... "We went to go pick her up because she was coming to spend the week with us to help celebrate (her daughter's) birthday. The decorations are still up, her place setting is still set at the dining room table!" "One minute we're driving to the E.R. because she has a pain and the next she's gone. I still can't believe I'm talking about her in the past tense." Wow. How life can change in a moment's time.

I went to a beautiful outdoor sunrise Easter service at a local park this year. It was 6:30 a.m. and as you entered the park you could hear the sound of a trumpet blowing, then came silence, then out of the silence came the low moan of a bagpipe playing Amazing Grace. When the bagpipe was finished there was a moment to breathe it all in, when all you could hear was the cheerful sound of birds greeting daybreak as people set up their lawn chairs. The backdrop for this service was the city of Hartford off in the distance with the early morning fog hovering over the tops of the buildings. I've never seen the city look so peaceful.

A man from one of the area churches welcomed us and then another man began to sing "Morning has broken..." in an absolutely heavenly voice. Representatives from various churches came to the podium one by one to speak their truth on this Easter morning but none touched me so deeply as the woman who spoke of Mother Mary's pain when it came time for her to say goodbye to Jesus. Mary had no clue what was to come and her pain was deep. Then this woman spoke of the joy, the elation, the light that came from the horrible darkness. We all sang and gave thanks.

I decided to go to the cemetary after the service to see my mom. I hadn't been there since Christmas time (thank you to whoever removed the mini Christmas tree!) and it was definitely an emotional visit. I left some daffodils, a little medal cross and a marshmallow peep (which I'm sure some critter enjoyed immensely). I had myself a good cry and as I left, my thoughts turned toward Mother Mary. The pain, the joy, the light and the resurrection of hope. No matter how difficult our journey becomes, the resurrection of hope is always on our side.

xo,
Carrie

Love

Sometimes I feel like I sound like a broken record. I talk about love and blessings and gratitude alot and maybe that's partly because I need to remind myself often of the important things in life. As you get older I think it's easier to stay focused on what's important because luckily with age comes wisdom, as well as the reality that your time on this earth is getting shorter with every birthday you celebrate. Maybe I'm wrong but if this life isn't about love and the connections we make along the way then I don't know what it's about.

A friend whose child I watch called last week to see if her child could come an extra day because she was bringing her mom to the emergency room for what they thought was gallstones. I spoke with her several times over the course of three days and the information was always the same, "Not sure yet, they're running more tests". Yesterday I had her child and when she came to pick her up it was obvious that she was in a state of deep sadness. That state where you're trying to speak and hoping you won't burst into tears, one I understand very well. I went to her and said, "Hugs are included in your daycare fees", and I hugged her. You could see the tears starting to form but she said nothing, quickly gathered her daughter's things, wished me a happy Easter and out the door they went. Last night I got an email saying that her mother has breast cancer and liver cancer and even with chemo they are giving her about two months at best. Her exact words were, "She's so sleepy I'm afraid I won't get to talk to her much more. She needs the meds for the pain and they keep increasing them. It's all happening so fast."

Oh how my heart is breaking for my friend. So fast indeed. I remember when I went with my brother and sister in law to a seminar on grief through the holidays, one of the things the speaker said was that the one thing he hears almost invariably from people is that it happened "too fast". Even in families who knew their loved one was dying when the actual death came it was never expected at that moment.

I didn't really know what to say to her other than to savor every moment left with her mom, say everything it is she wants to say and assume her mother can hear it whether it appears that way or not. Lean on the people who are going through this with her and know that she's not alone even though it seems that way right now. I had my dad, six siblings, their spouses, numerous other family members and friends going through the process with me and it still felt like I was facing it alone at times. Our grief is our own, noone can grieve for us or take it from us and sometimes it seems like a very lonely process but the truth is if we let them, the people who care about us can love us through anything. Love and our connections, what else is there really?

I'll leave you with a quote from Mother Teresa - "Love has a hem to her garment, that reaches the very dust. It sweeps the stains from the streets and lanes, And because it can, it must."

xo,
Carrie

Survival

I was at the book store this past weekend having coffee with my sisters and on my way in to the restroom there was a rack that held a few different free magazines. One that caught my eye was called Natural Nutmeg so I picked it up and brought it home. I was reading it the other night and was so incredibly moved by one of the articles that I wanted to talk a little bit about it today. As I started to write I quickly realized that taking various quotes from the article to share was not going to accurately convey the power of what was being said so I've decided to share the entire article. It's a bit lengthy so you might want to read this when you have some free time to ponder it's message. I think it's a vitally important one and maybe another day this week we can talk about that message.

Let me just say that my take on this article is that it is not intended soley for people who are dealing with a diagnosis of disease. I believe it's message is intended for each and every one of us who must choose how to deal with life and our own individual journeys. Anything written in a parenthesis is my thought.

SECRETS OF SURVIVAL by Bernie Siegel, MD

Most medical school applications of today state that the candidate for admission is interested in and fascinated by the human body. The problem is that often, physicians have been given medical information, but not a true medical education. An education teaches you how to deal with and care for the human experience of illness and not just treat the diagnosis. A medical education would also teach the skill of communication so that we do not kill with our words, but heal with them just as we heal with a scalpel and do not wound with it.

What I have found is that information does not change people. The obese, alcoholics, smokers, and nonconforming patients all know their behavior is not good for them. So why do they do it? It gets back to the lack of messages of love for the individual from parents, teachers, clergy and other authority figures. Ugly ducklings rarely find out on their own that they are swans. In one study a loved child had one fourth the illness rate of an unloved child by middle age (how powerful a statement is that?). I see pet owners who have lung cancer or asthma smoke outdoors to save their beloved pets. Killing yourself is not questioned. Nine hundred years ago Maimonides stated, "People would suffer fewer illnesses if they took as good care of themselves as they do their animals." Times haven't changed.

I have found that approximately 20% of patients are what I call respants: responsible participants who display and are interested in learning survival behavior. What I do for the other 80% is love them and give them return appointments no matter what they do. With time and love some begin to care for themselves. Then the information I present to them is utilized to achieve better health and survival statistics.

I can't sell them the idea of being a respant or cite better statistics because they aren't interested in working at living. They have grown up hearing there is something wrong with them. So guilt, shame and blame are what they are dealing with and if you ask them to fight for their lives it is one more thing they won't get right. Sad but true. I often ask people to answer questions, join support groups and draw pictures of themselves, their treatment and disease. That eliminates many patients because they are not artists - could do it wrong or don't want to work at surviving.

If I can inspire them and breathe life into them, then changes will occur. Now they are waking up to life and what makes them happy. This is not about self interest but paying attention to their bodies and what feels good for them to do. I help people reclaim their lives and be reborn so every cell in their body is given a message about the joys of life each day. Have I seen people expected to die in months cured of their disease by living this way? Yes. Do I recommend it as the sole treatment? No, because I know how hard it is to 'live in your heart and have magic happen' and 'leave all your troubles to God.'

I do, however, point out the benefits of love to the individual and those they are in contact with. When people are unwilling to do this I let their families know that they need to take care of themselves too. Why? Because there is something called Siegel's Sign in physical diagnosis. When a family walks into my office and everyone looks sick except one person, you can be sure the one who looks well is the one with the illness and is using it to manipulate everyone else in the family. I always guarantee them a cure on their next visit. They never come back to that office again and always arrange future meetings in the ER or other safe places where a cure is not available.

What do respants do that represents survival behavior? They take action, seek wisdom, perform meditation and imagery and have spiritual support. Spiritual support may come from a religion but some religions have regulations that create guilt and lead to feelings that one deserves God's punishment. Disease is no different than when one loses one's car keys. You don't say God wants you to walk home; you look for your keys. When you are ill you have lost your health and respants look for it to be restored.

They live a life with meaning, express their feelings and appropriate anger, ask for help when it is needed, learn to say no to things they do not want to do, make their own decisions about treatment, bring play into their lives, deal with feelings of depression and learn from them and they live an authentic life.

In essence life becomes a labor pain in which we birth ourselves and because we are making the choices the delivery has less pain, complications and side effects.

About thirty years ago I met Susan Duffy who had developed scleroderma and was not given much time to live. She was an enraged lady over her illness and her difficult life. Her parents and sister were alcoholics who committed suicide and were angry at her for not doing so. When I met her all I could do was listen and it turned out to be what Helen Keller advises since 'deafness is darker by far than blindness.' When she emptied out her rage in 1987 she wrote me a letter telling me that she had let love into her prison and it had touched every negative item in it and transformed them into something meaningful. She is alive today and a member of our support group and one of my teachers. I will present her list for survivors at the end of this article.

We each need to find our path and way to healing. The messages are age old and can be found in the literature of great spiritual leaders, the US Marines training manual, the writings of children with cancer and others. Two things are key elements. One is the inspiration I discuss, and the other is one's behavior. Just as multiple personalities disassociate so one must disassociate with the old self and BEHAVE as if you were the person you want to be. You rehearse and practice and find the coaches to help guide you. That is the role I see myself in today: a coach for the inspired respant who wants to learn survival behavior. How will you know one when you meet them? Ask them these questions:

1. I am taking you to dinner what do you want?
2. How would you introduce yourself to God?
3. What should I hang in the lobby of a public building with a sign above it that says, come and see how beautiful and meaningful life is?
(Take a minute to answer those questions for yourself before going on)

The correct answers are:
1. Any response within 15-20 seconds demonstrating they are in touch with their feelings and not thinking about fat content, cost, or what you want.
2. The introduction is that you and God don't need an introduction. You are a child of God.
3. And last (this is my favorite answer and the one that blew me away), you hang up not a picture of a baby, rainbow or flower, but a mirror.

Now let me close with a list from Susan Duffy:

SECRETS OF LIVING FOR SURVIVORS

Trust yourself enough to become your own teacher
Cultivate your own sense of being and spirituality
Trust in your own instincts, intuitions and leadings
Learn to flow with your own ideas concerning searching and seeking answers
Choose to have faith in yourself and your place in life
Discipline yourself to love the positive more than the negative (This one is HUGE)
Let go of everything that you can't change
Change yourself through self-acceptance and love; then what happens around you won't matter
Learn to forgive the unforgivable - you will become free
Forgive God, others and yourself
Allow yourself to feel anger, pain, joy and sadness
Express your feelings and don't feel so alone
Realize that everything changes
Look to other people for guidance and inspiration but not answers
Other people don't have all the answers, they are learning too
Nothing so bad ever happened to you that didn't happen to someone else
No one is unique we all suffer the same joys and pains of life
Our problems may come in different shapes and sizes but the solutions are the same
Embrace life and it will hug you back
Don't have a need to control
Allow the order of things to take place
Enjoy the peace, knowing someone bigger and stronger is in charge
Don't make too many schedules - you will go crazy
You can't fix everything

xo,
Carrie

Stories

I came across something I had written while away on retreat in 2005. We were asked to come with something special, a treasure if you will, to circle time that night. Something that was all ours to share so I shared what was my story up until that point in my life. One of the benefits of writing is being able to go back and read your story, see where it ended and see where it's gone since that ending. That's why writing is a treasure to me.

I ran into a good friend at CVS yesterday who reads my blogs and she said, "Carrie, don't ever apologize for not writing your blog. These blogs are a gift to us and you don't need to apologize for not giving us a gift!" It made me feel better about the days that I've missed. Please know that my being able to share my deepest thoughts with you is a gift for me.


A gentle soul, a compassionate heart
Are gifts God gave me right from the start
Strength to live when I couldn't breathe
A Mom who loved me enough to leave

Hopped a plane down south to give my lungs a rest
Only a slight memory of that war in my chest
A lingering fear when cold season draws near
A blessing from above, no asthma attacks in years

First day of kindergarten, shoes shiny and new
Special school dress with flowers of red and blue
Waving goodbye to Dad who held the video cam
Mom choking back tears as we walked hand in hand

Arriving at school on my own now, grade two
Sitting down on the steps to remove my snow boots
An unexpected pool of tears as I sat alone
Boots back on my feet, I ran all the way home

When I opened the door my mom looked confused
"Did that mean girl Denise throw a snowball at you?"
"No Mom, without warning, I just missed you too much."
No schoolwork that day, just a mother's loving touch

Dance lessons in tutus that made me feel fat
Always feeling awkward in that damn ballet class
Fish sticks and fries every friday night for a treat
Doesn't make for a ballerina who's light on her feet

As the youngest of seven I think I grew up too fast
Always wanting what they had, I hated being last
I tried to be like them and all of a sudden, I was
I of course wish now I hadn't been in such a rush

By age fifteen I'd left my innocence behind me
Oh so certain true love had come to find me
Just one of those moments I would take back in time
If reliving the past was a magical power of mine

But for every moment I'd want to take back
There's countless others that I want to last
Forever untouched or changed by time
Lord, how I hope they don't get lost in my mind

Some of the ones I hope I'll never forget;
My mom and dad dancing to Tony Bennett
The everpresent sound of piano playing and song
My fear of thunderstorms drowned by a family sing along

Dads accordian playing at Christmas time
Moms pot roast and mashed potatoes on which we'd dine
The smell of swedish meatballs and cabbage soup
Did it's job well, no need to call for the troops

One by one in the kitchen we'd appear
All were wondering if dinner time was near
Up on kitchen counters, cross legged on the floor
We'd wait, we'd laugh, we'd sit and talk and laugh some more

If I could go back in time to just one place
It would be my mother's kitchen to see the smile on her face
I've never felt so much love as that kitchen had
Pouring through my mom surrounded by her kids and my dad

Oh sure, there was anger and teardrops and fights
Sometimes cocktail hour would last well into the night
Cigarettes and cigars would overflow the ashtrays
Sometimes on those nights, I'd wish I was far away

But the love always lasted well beyond those nights
I have to dig deep to even remember a fight
Although the one when sister punched brother, I do recall
She was fulfilling the secretly hidden desire of us all

Poor brother sometimes thought his shit didn't stink
And that noone would challenge his desire to be "King"
But sister's quiet demeanor could only be pushed so far
He didn't see it coming, but I'm sure he saw stars

I met my true love when I was just shy of sixteen
Cutest guy at the party and lo and behold, he was free
He wrote down my number in the mist on his car
As I was thinking, "Oh yeah...this will go far!"

If I knew then what love needs to endure
I'd have run in the opposite direction, I'm sure
But with twenty eight years and three beautiful sons
I'm nothing but grateful for what that night had begun

As mother of three boys, there's no end to the lessons
Though I admit sometimes it's hard to hear their confessions
Yet I wouldn't trade their trust that I love them enough
To be able to bare their souls when life gets too tough

I'm still working on freeing more of the real me
The adventurous spirit, musician and writer that I long to be
Slowly but surely it's finding its way
Through the strength and new perspective coming every day

The stories of my past have brought me to this place
The love of family and friends, and Gods amazing grace
A desire to learn and move and grow
And the incredible power found in letting go

So you ask what treasure I'd like to share tonight
It's the same I try to share every day of my life
A gentle soul, a compassionate heart, the love this world needs
An attempt at God's healing light shining through me


xo,
Carrie

Slacker!

I can't believe it's Friday! So this is what happens when I give myself an inch...oy vey! I'm so sorry if you've come to check in this week and found nothing. I am vowing to myself to do more next week. Something about this beautiful weather has kept my thoughts on other things.

Have a wonderful weekend and see you on Monday!

xo,
Carrie

St. Patricks Day

Dear Mom,

Boy oh boy, I'm not sure if it's the time change or the dreary weather but I have been trying to figure out why I feel so low today. I keep thinking about you and wondering when I'll be able to do that without this heavy sadness accompanying the thoughts. People say it gets easier with time. My question then would be, how much time? It's coming up on five months now and some days it feels like it's getting harder. The more time that goes by without being able to see you or talk to you makes me feel like I miss you even more.

No, I wasn't sure what was bringing on the tears today. I thought maybe because the first purple crocus has popped it's head in the back yard and I know how excited you would be to see it could be the reason. Or it could be all of the buds on the pear tree in the front yard that are hinting at it's imminent blossoming. Knowing how much you loved that tree in full bloom could be to blame, but I don't think that's it.

Two more days until St. Patrick's Day and my "So proud to be Irish" mother is not here to celebrate with. I'm having flashbacks of you and Nan in the kitchen wearing the green plastic hats, holding the green plastic shillelaghs wearing the green and white Hawaiin leis (not sure how those ended up being part of the outfit other than the green!), smiling and singing away. The smell of corned beef and cabbage permeated the air and there was no shortage of Irish Whiskey flowing into those short plastic cups. You know, the cups that were responsible for Nan's famous saying, "Can you fix me another short one hon?".

Of course a visit from our Irish neighbor across the street was always part of the routine on St. Patrick's Day. Listening to his thick Irish brogue was always intriguing to me and watching him try to navigate his way back home on foot after the celebration had ended was always the highlight of the evening! Oh such wonderful memories of celebrations passed. I know that the Swedish side that Dad passed down to us always got alot of attention what with the bakery and all and I know you were proud of that too, but St. Patrick's Day was one day out of the year that the yellow and blue took a back seat to the green. On that day you got to claim your heritage and you sure did it with gusto!

I don't know that I will be celebrating on Wednesday with as much gusto as you did but you'll be happy to know that I will be meeting some people you loved very much bright and early on Wednesday morning for an Irish breakfast at an Irish Pub and I will be wearing green proudly in honor of you my love. Give Nan and Junie and Frank and all of your Irish cohorts up in heaven my love and know how very much I miss you. In the meantime, this one's for you Mommy...

"There's a tear in your eye,
And I'm wondering why,
For it never should be there at all.
With such pow'r in your smile,
Sure a stone you'd beguile,
So there's never a teardrop should fall.
When your sweet lilting laughter's
Like some fairy song,
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be;
You should laugh all the while
And all other times smile,
And now, smile a smile for me.

When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure, they steal your heart away.

For your smile is a part
Of the love in your heart,
And it makes even sunshine more bright.
Like the linnet's sweet song,
Crooning all the day long,
Comes your laughter and light.
For the springtime of life
Is the sweetest of all
There is ne'er a real care or regret;
And while springtime is ours
Throughout all of youth's hours
Let us smile each chance we get.

When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure, they steal your heart away."

xo,
Carrie

Trying

My niece and I used to make some beautiful greeting cards. I was the voice, she was the artwork and together we made an awesome team. I truly believe that we made a unique product that made people feel good and I don't think I'm alone in that belief. Then life changed and it became more difficult for us to connect, so subsequently the card making came to a halt and the cards we had created have been sitting untouched for quite some time.

I've wanted to attempt to make cards on my own but have had no clue where to begin, or confidence that I could accomplish anything close to what we accomplished together. I am NOT an artist by any means and that has kept me from trying, despite the fact that it's been a yearning of mine ever since we stopped working together. Then, this morning at about 3:00 a.m., a thought came to me, and that was this - The point is not to RE-create something, the point is to create something. How can I know what I am capable of if I never give it a shot? So at 7:30 this morning I was at my kitchen table creating and it felt good. It felt really good and that's when I realized that maybe the joy isn't in the finished product, maybe it's in the creating itself! Maybe the joy is in the attempt, regardless of the outcome. Perhaps the joy is in conquering the fear and nothing else.

For what it's worth, my twelve year old came home from school today and said, "Mom, did you make that?" and when I said yes his response was, "That's wicked good! Can you make money off of it?" Typical twelve year old!

So here is my quote of the day - "There is no greater feeling than the moment in which you discover that you can do something that you have previously believed you could not." CMK

How many times has your fear robbed you of that feeling? I know for me it's been too many to count. Is there something your fear has been convincing you to put off or forget about all together? I think spring is the perfect time to start taking a few chances. I think now is a good time to take a few risks in an attempt to nurture that feeling, don't you? Time to take off those training wheels and soar down the street without anyone holding on to the bike but you. I'll try if you will.

xo,
Carrie

Entries

I'm not sure what's happening but sitting down to write is starting to feel like a struggle some days. Writing is very much about giving myself an outlet to deal with my mother's passing and while I was a writer long before I lost her and hopefully will continue to be until I can no longer hold a pen, I think the fact that I no longer feel the need to run to my journal as soon as my feet hit the floor in the morning is a good thing. I'm choosing to look at my diminishing entries as a positive sign.

Writing honestly is a must for me and when I feel like the words are forced, I'm never happy with what ends up on paper. I can't feel rushed or distracted when I write and we're coming into a time of year where there is much to be accomplished! Taxes, cleaning out of basements, garages, sheds or attics to see if a springtime tag sale is in order, window cleaning, painting, sorting through clothes, etc.. Getting out to exercise becomes more of a priority when the temps warm up a bit because the reality that the body I've been hiding in long pants and sweaters all winter long will soon be in shorts and t-shirts (and the B word that I can't even bring myself to say) starts setting in. I think being sick for over a week is also leaving me feeling like I need to play catch up on all the things that got put on hold last week.

The point here is that when I'm feeling called to do other things, it's hard for me to give myself permission to spend the time necessary to write something I feel comfortable sharing. I know it may not seem it but there have been days when writing this blog has taken me all morning long. Some days the words flow freely and others they just don't. For instance, Mom's birthday was on Sunday and I wanted to write about it yesterday. When I sat down to write this is what came...

Dear Mom,

Well, we made it through your birthday on Sunday. I'm sure you saw all of us gathered at church on Saturday for a mass in your honor that Auntie A. had arranged. It was very hard for me to be there in the same church where your funeral was held. Quite honestly, I don't think I've been to church since your passing because of that reason. Church is one of the places where I really feel you and while I hope in time to find it a place of comfort where I can feel connected to you, right now it's just too hard.

...and then it just stopped. Other thoughts started creeping in like the bills, the client I needed to pick up from the hospital at 11:30 and the client I needed to bring grocery shopping at 1:00 and the fact that I hadn't showered or walked yet. Once that happens, it's hard to get back to the writing.

I've really come to value my relationship with you and I appreciate so much your desire to share in my thoughts. The fact that you take the time to come and see what I have to say on any given day means the world to me and I promise, I won't altogether disappear on you but I guess we both need to accept that in an attempt to give you the best of me, there will be lulls in the entries from time to time.

I hope that the sunshine and the warming temperatures are stirring in you the same desire they are in me - to get up, get moving and start living life again. Happy (almost) spring!!

xo,
Carrie

Antibiotics

For the first time in a long time, I'm taking antibiotics, seeing as this sinus infection is not going away and it's something I don't want to mess around with. I try very hard to avoid taking antibiotics if possible. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that they exist when you need them to kill off bad bacteria, it's just the killing off of the good bacteria and the resistane that over use produces that makes them undesirable for me, unless they are absolutely necessary. I started them yesterday and my body is already letting me know it's not happy. Here's a little glimpse into what's started going on -

Stomach - "Grrrrr, grrrrr, growl, growl, gurgle."

Head - "Oh stomach, you're such a drama queen! Knock it off and give her a break!"

Stomach - "Hey, I gave her a break for alot of years when she was putting lots of stuff in me that I didn't care for but YOU kept telling her she wanted! Now it's all about me baby."

Head - "Uh, hello! It's not like she has a choice here, she has an infection and I'm the one with the brain in it that we don't want to mess with."

Stomach - (Mocking head) "Uh, hello! Don't you read? The digestive system pretty much has a brain of it's own!"

Head - "You're such a jerk! Why do you have to be like that?"

Stomach - "That's just how I roll."

Head - "Can't we all just get along?"

Stomach - "Grrrrr, grrrrr, growl, growl, gurgle - BURP!"

Head - "Oh, now that's just rude!!"

Stomach - "Shut up!"

Head - "No - YOU shut up!"

Oy, it's going to be a long ten days.

xo,
Carrie

Pay attention

Seems I'm always talking about my blessings. Usually when I speak of them, I'm referring to the big ones in my life like love, or friendship, or family, etc.. This week I've been the sickest I've been in quite some time with what appears to be a sinus infection and it's made me think about the blessings that I take for granted every day, like taste buds or a sense of smell! Imagine going through life never being able to taste or smell again. How much joy do those two things bring to your life?

I saw Roger Ebert, the film critic, on Oprah the other day. He lost the bottom half of his jaw to cancer and can no longer eat or speak. He gets nourishment through an IV bag and speaks through a computer. He will never taste food or utter a single word again. When Oprah asked him if he could remember what the last words he spoke were, he (his computer) answered, "I don't really recall, because I didn't know they would be my last words, but perhaps I told my wife I loved her. At least I hope my last words were I love you.".

As you go through your day today, from the time you open your eyes, until the time you lay your head on your pillow to close them again, pay attention. Pay attention to all of the blessings that we don't give much thought to. The blessings that seem small, but were they taken away, would be life altering. And pay attention to your words. What would you want your words to be if you knew they would be your last? Maybe more importantly, what wouldn't you want them to be?

I'm recalling my Mom's last words to me. It was my turn to keep watch during the night shift at the hospital when she woke up looking for her water. I went to help her put the straw to her mouth and she said, "Is that my Carrie?" I said, "Yeah Mom, I'm right here." She said, "Oh, what a good girlie you are." She took a few sips of her water, went to sleep, and from that point on I didn't hear her speak again. How's that for a blessing? She could have said anything, like, "You're not holding the straw close enough" or "It needs more ice" (I laugh as I read that because those were words we heard alot those last days in the hospital! My Mom was an ice freak.), but it's so typical of her that those were the words she left me with.

Blessings big, blessings small...pay attention, because you don't know when they'll be gone.

xo,
Carrie

Aging

I feel very blessed that I have been able to work with the sick and the elderly. It's given me a perspective on life that didn't exist before I started this job. When you see how some people suffer day in and day out, you can't help but feel grateful. When you see what potentially waits for you down the road, you understand how important a grateful heart is.

Over the past year and a half I have experienced some very powerful moments with my clients, the most recent being just the other day. I was helping a client who's been very ill get dressed for a doctor appointment. This was a very long process as she was incredibly weak and had to stop to rest every 30 seconds or so. This particular client is a very tough, very headstrong, stubborn (need I go on?) individual so it's not easy for her to be in situations where she feels vulnerable. Unfortunately, illness and disease leave you quite vulnerable and dependent, something that's not easy for many people. I've learned that one of the hardest things for elderly or chronically ill people to accept is the guilt that comes with feeling you're a burden.

This client suffers from the same disease (and all of the complications that go hand in hand with it) that has taken the life of her mother and two of her brothers at an age that she is fast approaching. She has two sisters, one of whom almost lost her battle twice this past year with the same disease, and a brother left. They don't live locally so she's left to face this battle without the aid of family. Anyway, we were about half way through the task at hand when she got very still, stared off into space and started talking in a tone that you would expect someone who's very ill to talk in. I had to strain to hear her words...

"The leaning tree isn't always the first to fall. My sisters and I been talkin' 'bout who we think is gonna be the next to go. We all thought it would be _____ (her sister) but I think it's gonna be me."

Her eyes were now filled with tears. "I had a dream the other night but I'm thinkin' it was more of a premonition. I was lyin' in the bed and when I looked up I saw a dark figure all dressed in black. Couldn't see no face cuz it had a dark hood over it's head. I tried talkin' but nothin' came out and then a hand grabbed my foot, started pullin' me out the bed. I tried gettin' away but it had me, it had me real good. It felt so real, you understand? Like somethin' pullin' me to my death."

My eyes were now filled with tears. "I don't know what I done in my life to deserve all this sickness but I really think my time's comin' next. I can just feel it."

When I first started working with her, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she was not a "touchy, feely" type of person, "You white peoples are always huggin' on one another. Just give me a pat on the back or somethin' and that'll do." But on this day, a day when I could find no words, I hugged her and she welcomed it.

My job is a blessing. It offers me a glimpse into the future, a warning that I'd be foolish not to heed. It is inevitable that one day, I too will be old, and perhaps plagued by disease. When that day comes I will pray that I've sown the seeds of goodness and love in my life so they will be there for me to call on when they're needed most.

xo,
Carrie

Cold

Sorry folks, this cold is kicking my butt today. Think I need to see what tomorrow brings. Thanks for your understanding.

xo,
Carrie

P.S. At least this time I have the GOOD kleenex! :-)

Restless

I'm not sure if it's the sun attempting to break through the clouds, or having entered the final countdown of winter, but man do I feel restless this morning! Restless like I want to get up and go somewhere. Any place that has NO sense of familiarity to it and everything feels new. A place where all of my senses would be commanded to be on alert because of that newness. New sights, new sounds, new smells, new architecture, new people that have no clue who I am or what I'm all about. A place where I wouldn't have the ability to close my eyes and still find my way from one destination to the next because I've been taking the same route my whole life long. Maybe I'd even allow myself to get lost! Getting lost is one of my hidden fears, so I avoid going places by myself where this is a possibility.

My cousin's daughter just did some traveling to various places around the country all by herself. Just her, her Civic Hybrid, her courage and her desire to connect with family and friends. God, how I admire that! A while ago my friend's daughter, who was in her twenties, traveled to Italy alone. I remember being in total awe of her when she did that. I can't fathom the idea of traveling all that way alone. I don't know if it stems from being the baby of seven children, but if it's one thing I wouldn't call myself, it's independent.

I don't know, maybe it's coming from the movie I watched yesterday called The September Issue. It was a documentary on Anna Wintour, the editor in chief at Vogue magazine. It painted a wonderful picture of what life is like in the fashion world. While it showcased some of the down sides, like the discouragement one feels when their creative vision is thrown to the curb, or the exaustion that comes with trying to meet deadlines, or the fierce competition that's out there among designers, what I took away from the movie is that the fashion industry is a fun, exciting, fast paced, delicious world to be in. Imagine...Rome, Paris and London all being in your job description. Not to mention the clothes!! And the shoes...UGH, let's not even go there.

That's the life I wish I was waking up to this morning (and I wouldn't need to worry about getting lost because I'd have a driver!). All I can say is it's a good thing I don't own a Nordstrom's credit card or my debt would have sky rocketed today.

Back to reality (sigh), time to go tackle the mound of dishes waiting for me in the sink. Then it's shower time, off to comfort a client who I have a feeling might be hospitalized today, back home to pick up kids, dinner and then bed.

No, I can't imagine what's causing this restlessness. All I can say is I really hope the sun wins it's battle with the clouds today.

xo,
Carrie