It's Good Friday on Easter weekend and I am feeling, well--good! There are rumors that the rain is actually going to stop today and when I asked my son to pack for a weekend away to visit my aunt for the weekend he claimed he did and declared, "I brought two of everything!" Perhaps with all the rain lately, bringing two of everything makes sense. And maybe I should build an ark while I'm at it, too.

There is something about spring and Easter, in particular, when it feels like the real "new" year. Could be that the prospect of getting into the garden again makes me buzz with anticipation. Watching small green sprouts pop up from the ground is exciting. Renewal is emerging all around us. Even indoors, a plant category I usually don't excel in, is showing another flush of blooms emerging on my mother's Christmas Cactus that just bloomed in December. Perhaps going along with my New Years feel for life right now.

I have tulip, daffodil and allium greens popping up all around my house and I pray the bunnies don't eat them all, helping my prayers along with some sprays of Repels All to round things out (prays and sprays--haha:). The bunnies are really only interested in the tulip greens. This past month has been a busy one for The Room to Write with our Young Writers and Illustrators Meet, Greet & Create event finally making a comeback after four years and all sorts of fun plans for April. In particular, I have been busy with details of a collaboration with the Arts Collaborative of Wakefield's April exhibit at the Albion Cultural Exchange titled "Tell Me a Story." If you'd like to see all about the event details, check The Room to Write's events page!

​We have a writer/artists exhibit where 13 writers write about 13 pieces of art. There will be a table with 20 books by local authors and their information. We are highlighting picture book authors with six authors reading their books during the day on three different days so that parents and caregivers of young children can have a fun activity for their kids and time to enjoy the art off-peak exhibit hours. Lastly, we are holding our quarterly Meet & Greet at a local ice cream parlor and then strolling over to A.C.E. to see the art and one of the very kind artists, Joy Schilling, will be touring attendees through the art and talking about the various art techniques.

Even more like a New Year's celebration is that Easter is on March 31st and so the next day is April 1st! I'll be so happy to land in April knowing that May won't be too far away in the future. Warmer weather, greener landscapes, and knee deep in my garden. I have 6 raspberry bare-root plants on their way along with a River Birch tree, my second attend to plant that in a roughly similar spot as the last time, but with the knowledge I gained from the last time I failed. I haven't started any seeds, but I look forward to getting them going sometime next week. I hope:)

Hopefully spring brings renewal to your life. Brings you a sense of starting again and hoping for the best!

Happy Easter!!

Here I am--another last-day-of-the-month . . . and year . . . blog entry. 

The bare minimum blog requirement that I gave myself in 2020 was that I do one entry a month. When anybody first starts out on anything like a blog, podcast, video series--whatever medium is chosen to express themselves--there is usually a big wad of pent-up creativity resembling second-graders in a line at school all wanting to be first, all smooshing into each other if the line slows, and all eager to get to wherever it is they're going. There is a sense of urgency. Temper that.

Telling yourself to do something as infrequently as once a month, which boils down to 12 times a year, well--that seems too low a bar. It's like limbo with the stick still over your head and you think, "I got this! I am going to outlast every person in this limbo line." 

Your smile is eager, but you haven't had to bend your back in the opposite direction that it's used to bending yet. The music has you energized, there are enthusiastic people all around you in line, and you just tip your head back ever-so-slightly when you reach the limbo stick. Easy peasy!

Then you cycle through a few times and the sweat starts. There are less people in line, but the crowd is still feeling the music and now you need to act energized rather than actually feeling energized. The limbo stick is below your shoulders and let's face it--that's low for a middle-aged woman who hasn't done back-walkovers with her friends on the front lawn in about something-something years. ​

The point is--you're confident and even cocky at the beginning of any quest whether it's a blog, a plan to get organized, a vow that you'll make more time for your friends, or a limbo line. I have said it before and I'll say it again, "The key to happiness is low expectations." Bite-sized pieces can be very helpful. We've all seen The Great Outdoors and what happens with the Ol' 96er (if not, you should see it and have a good laugh in 2024). Don't make the same mistake our beloved John Candy made by letting other people set expectations for you, by going outside of your comfort zone to please others. Letting others dictate your actions can not only cause avoidable stress but it can sow resentment. And resentment is, unfortunately, the gift that can keep on giving even after the stress has been eliminated.

​Think simple.

Case in point: this blog post. I told myself to just sit down and write something quickly so that I would get a blog entry in for the month, the last day of the year. Here I am still droning on and now looking up clips of John Candy eating the Ol' 96er and figuring out how to wrap this up and wondering what my point was to begin with. I guess my point is set the bar low and just begin. Say you'll only write a few sentences and perhaps you'll walk away from a few paragraphs instead. Give yourself the possibility of a victory, no matter how small, and you may just exceed your own low expectations. If you make goals too lofty, too intimidating and too stressful--you risk sabotaging the whole thing.

Gratitude plays an important role as well.
If you set a small goal then you are more easily grateful when it is reached.
Gratitude is integral in life, to love and to growing in your faith. 

Start small and be grateful.
Happy New Year!

This morning I walked the lake as I've been doing consistently two days a week since the new year. I suppose that is my resolution. I'm not sure if I knew it was at the time, but apparently that's how resolutions are made and kept at my age: make it small, tangible and achievable.

Baby steps.
​
Today the fog seemed to tell me something similar.

Usually while walking the lake, I have a clear view of the opposite shoreline. It's only about 3 miles around, so it's not difficult to see the whole thing at a glance, but not today.

​This morning the fog was so thick--like pea soup, as they say--I couldn't see the water, let alone the other side. It was very striking, beautiful, unusual--other worldly. At certain points it seemed as if I was staring off into the ends of the Earth.

As I walked I wondered what the lesson was because it felt like the fog was telling me something. The Universe was whispering in my ear and it struck me: focus. Focus on what is right in front of you and don't think or worry about the other stuff in the background. Fog forces this to happen.

​On a clear day the branch of a tree can be so easily lost among the colors of the water, the distant trees, the bird flying by at that moment, etc, etc. Fog erases all of that from your vision and the branch that never caught your eye before, stands boldly against the backdrop of the muffled grey mist. An ordinary blade of grass pops. The empty boat has never looked so desperately alone.

The Universe pleads, "Slow down. Focus on what is right in front of you."

Don't waste time thinking of the stuff off in the distance. There may come a time when you are there, but currently you are here. Forget "over there" for now.

Appreciate, worry about, tend to, take pleasure in, suffer through, deal with, savor--what is right here right now. 
Be present.

Let everything else fade off behind the fog.

At long last, two years after I was originally supposed to sit down with the wonderful Joy Nelkin Wieder, author of The Passover Mouse, we finally got to chat mask-free in the WCAT Studios this past Monday. I got to follow Joy on her journey from spark of an idea back in 2002 all the way to this moment twenty years later to celebrate her picture book just before Passover begins April 15th. 

The Passover Mouse came out two years ago, just before the pandemic, and so Joy has had to endure a two-pronged form of perseverance with not only a long wait for her story to become a book and reach the eyes of children, but also to connect with those children once the book was out there. So much was cancelled and so two years later she looks forward to reading it to kids in the classroom, at libraries and bookstores to see their reactions to a story about a mischievous but adorable mouse.

​Joy said it best during her interview when she said, "Don't give up!"

It's been a while. Since, the writing--in here.
With a blog titled, "Dear Diary" I wanted to write, "Dear Diary, my mother passed away less than a month ago and I'm finding it hard to write. Why does grief take up so much room in my head? Why does it feel like such a relief to write what I'm thinking in my paper journal with my pen, but when it comes to typing in this Diary---I just don't want to?"

And that's a problem, for a writer. "Writer's block" seems to take on a whole new, debilitating strength after the loss of a loved one. It makes me think of the children's book I used to read to my children called, Sometimes I Like to Curl Up in a Ball by Vicki Churchill & Charles Fuge. For some reason, when I'm sad or overwhelmed, I want to get as small as I can. And, in an effort to get as small as I can I pull in my arms and legs and tuck my chin down. 

It's hard to write when you're in a ball.
Writing is an extension of who I am and I suppose stretching myself out so publicly on a page is simply unappealing. It's the last thing I want to do because, well--when you lose someone you love you really don't want to do much at all. But I'm still a mother, wife, sister, friend, neighbor, volunteer, citizen and, still, I am a daughter--with all that continues to come with such a role even without the mother to show for anymore. 

A little over two months ago I set out to create a blanket--for myself. I haven't done that since the '90s!
​
Post-2000, my blankets have usually been for new or approaching babies. I made one for a cousin's birthday.

A few starts remain undone for one reason or another--like abandoned manuscripts tossed into a drawer. 

Shortly before the new year arrived, I tied the last knot in the blanket I started in October. It's warm. It's cheery. And, it's the perfect size for sitting on the couch, kicking up my feet and fully covering me from pointed toe to tucked chin. 

It's bitterly cold today. My thermometer reads 5 degrees. 
Hats, gloves, coats: ON.
Heat: UP. A constant purr in the background.

I hope you have something cozy to snuggle with today.
One stitch at a time may seem slow, but Cozy Rosy is proof that--
even the long, cold days
eventually come to an end.
Keep going.
One stitch at a time.
One day at a time.
One thought.
One word.
One -- soon equals five, then ten.
You'll have something to spread out and 
be grateful for when it's just you,
your creation, and
​old man Winter.

I love the Peanuts cartoons and always have to watch Merry Christmas Charlie Brown when the holiday season rolls around. It's a wonderful, quiet nod to the real reason for the Christmas season and how community can lift us up, little things can mean a lot, and the underdogs in our lives can surprise us and save the day! 

During such challenging times, fear can start making our decisions for us. That's not a good thing. The ever-present essence of fear in the air lately makes me appreciate the page from my Our Daily Bread book that I have included alongside this entry. Linus takes center stage and speaks so simply.

I hope that whatever faith you practice you are able to take strength from it, lean on something larger than any of us and shed some of the fear that we have all come to live with constantly.

I have faith that something is going to give and we will start to feel some relief from so much stress in the new year: 2022! Good times are ahead where we will be able to let go a little, enjoy the moments as they present themselves to us, and live fearlessly.

​Happy New Year to you and all the family and friends in your life.

I was reading my itty bitty Our Daily Bread book this morning and had to share this. Sometimes no matter what your faith is or what you believe, it's good to know you are on this Earth for a reason.

With the cooler weather starting to seep in, I can't help but think of one of my all-time fave holiday movies: It's a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart! 

I got news of someone's passing today. She wasn't someone I knew well--in fact, I'd only met her once in my life, but she was a lovely, talented, generous lady and it made me think of how all of us have people in our lives or that perhaps were merely brief flashes of acquaintance who have been impacted in a good way by us.

None of us is ordinary!

Have you ever given inanimate objects more credit for your future than they deserve?

I have. Earlier this month, I found myself getting to the end of my current writing journal. You may have seen the cover of it in a past blog or newsletter. It says "Organized Chaos" on the front. I have to admit it wasn't my first choice for cover designs, but like with clothes--often I go for comfort over style--the choices of journals with coptic binding were few and so I snatched it up. The important part is the inside (wow--what an unintentional, but heartwarming truth:) with its empty lined pages. 

As Organized Chaos came to a close and school was starting, I pulled my next journal out from under a pile of clothes. (How I knew it was there, I have no idea. And why it had remained there--also, no idea.)

The next journal said, "Sunny Skies Ahead" on its cover. The colors were muted and everything looked calm about it. It was quite the follow-up to multi-colored, metallic organized chaos. That's when I started to believe, to genuinely hope, that the journal was making promises we all know it couldn't keep. Once I opened that blank journal I would be leaving chaos behind and sunny skies would open up and usher in the calm that everybody's been longing for after several years of not-quite-calm-at-all.