Congratulations, Baby Sister

As I blogged about on her belly button birthday,  I was thrilled when my one and only Baby Sister was born when I was seven years old. I finally had a sister.

Today, Baby Sister celebrates seven years clean. I found this image online today, and it made me think about what an amazing journey my sister and I have been on, both individually and together.

During her formative teenage years, I was a really bad role model for my sister. No doubt about it. I am grateful that I found recovery in the late 1980s, and I like to think that I became a better role model for her when she finally sought recovery for herself around a decade ago.  

I am so proud of Baby Sister, and her recovery. Once again, I finally have the sister that I have always wanted. What I know with absolute certainty, is that I love her immensely. Always have. Always will. I know how rare it is for siblings to find themselves in recovery together. We really have been truly blessed with...amazing grace.

This one's for you, Baby Sister.

Happy Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day, and I really wanted to write something in memorial for my Mom. Yet, I can't seem to find the words that would adequately relay the great love that I feel for this woman, even now, eleven years after her death. Rather fortuitously, I remembered a letter that I wrote to Mom on Mother's Day in 1999. I didn't know at the time that it would be her last Mother's Day with us. The letter captures everything of what I felt at the time, and much of what I still feel for her today. I miss her terribly, but remain ever grateful to have had her for as long as I did.

I hope everybody has a lovely Mother's Day. I am going to a matinee with my own two lovely daughters, who love me just as much as I love my Mom. Life is good, and goes around and around. 

9 May 1999

Dear Mom,

There aren’t many hours that pass in a day without my thinking of you. And so, I thought that I might share some of the thoughts that have come to me. But first I want you to know that a lot of what I have to say is not new, it is stuff that I have known for a long time but have never shared with you. It just seems as though I have this opportunity to tell you how important you are to me, and I think that I should grab the moment. Besides, I’m running out of things to buy you.

As you know, I hate that you have leukemia. It scares me, maddens me, and very often saddens me. But I am so amazed at how you deal with it, at your strength and courage and all-around attitude. I know that you probably have moments, or days, when your strength falters and I really need you to know that you can share those times with me. Phone me or send me an e-mail, or save it up until you see me, but please don’t keep your worries to yourself. We are able to share so much, I think, and I really want to be able to talk to you about anything. You don’t need to protect me from your pain. You see, I have strength too and I am certain that I got it from you. Anyway, the rest of this letter isn’t about the fact that you got sick and scared me into realizing how much I love you. I am writing because there seems to be no better time than now, to share with you a piece of my heart.

I think I’ve told you about the warmest and most precious memories that I have from when I was little. You know we all go on like we were so hard done by, and I’ve done my fair share of criticizing you and Dad about how you raised us, etc. etc. But I have always known that you both did your very best, and in recent years I have come to realize just how good it really was. I think of what it must have taken for you to arrange our holidays in the summer, to get us a pool, to fix my room up so beautifully, to always make our home warm and safe. I know now how much energy and money that must have taken and as kids, we likely never really appreciated it the way we should have. But the times that are most precious to me are still the times that we sat in the living room, on the couch, probably of a Sunday afternoon, with you reading at one end while I read my Nancy Drew book at the other. Dad and the boys were not usually around, and I guess Deb was either not invented or napping, but I recall sitting, listening to the fat from the roast spitting in the oven. It was just very special. After Debra was born, and you were still at home, after-school time was incredibly wonderful. I suppose it was because you were there (rather than at work) and the boys and I didn’t have the opportunity to scrap but whatever it was, I loved coming home and having you there. And even to this day, I love to watch or feel or hear you, humming or singing while you are puttering in the kitchen or tidying up something. Well, I could go on and on about these silly little childhood memories but most of all what I want to say is that I think it is kind of a shame that we only really know what our parents did for us, when we start getting old enough to wonder why our own children don’t appreciate what we do for them.

I don’t want to get into my teenage years, because they weren’t very good times for you, and hey, this is a present not a punishment. I don’t have any real explanation for why I was such a screw-up, but I am grateful that I lived to see the end of it. There were times when my behaviour was really self-destructive, and I am certain that I was also destroying you and Dad. All I can say is that I am sorry, and I would do anything I could to change things so that we had only happy memories of my teen years, but we can’t so let’s just be grateful that they are long over. And from my perspective, I believe that I learned a lot from those times, and in some ways, that stuff made me who I am today.

I spend a lot of time counting my blessings, and being grateful for all that I have in my life. And I am so glad that I moved back here to be closer to you eleven years ago and that I have gotten to spend so much time with you and Dad this past decade. I want to spend the next decade with you both, and I know that we will do everything we can to make that happen. But I also realize that a lot can happen, to any of us, at any time. And so when I think in terms of time, I realize that I have had the most and best of times with my mother, certainly better than anybody I know. I don’t know another woman who I am close to, except for Debra, who has what we have. And I am so grateful for that. If a person’s success in life is measured by how much they are loved by their children, then I would say that you and Dad are likely the most successful people in the world.

Well, my darling Mother, I guess I should stop this shameless display of emotion. I wanted to write you something that would be entirely beautiful and eloquent and touch you right in the center of your soul. But that will have to come later, this letter seems to be more about saying some things that I should have said a long time ago. And yet, I believe that you know these things already, that you know me, and that you know my heart. And so you already know how very much I love you. I could not love you more, but I sure can love you for a lot longer. So we will just continue along, as we have been doing. Even though we have been changed so much by the past few months, I think that when it comes to matters of our hearts, all of our family has shown how much we mean to each other. Not all of us can speak or write about our love for one another, but we all know it. And that is everything.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Love,

Dawn

(Blog Note: I wrote this letter before our own kids learned to appreciate us, but now they do.)

It's A Happy Day

Last evening, I had an email from Gwen R. advising that I will be featured as Sober Blogger of the Month for May.

I am quite thrilled, honoured, humbled. I had no idea when I started this recovery blog that I would connect with so many wonderful people who are on the path of recovery and self-discovery and are sharing the message at the same time. I plan on posting about my go-to recovery bloggers this week, but a perfect starting point for others who want to discover this community of online recovery is Gwen's TwelveBeads Modem2Modem site.

May is my favourite month. My belly button birthday is in May (the 5th) and my recovery anniversary is as well (the 11th). I've spent so much time this past few months reflecting about where I am at, and where I want to be. Part of my process has been decluttering my home, slowing down and simplifying my life. I have come across a lot of reminders from my past that have given me pause. Mostly good pauses. I posted a few weeks ago about a couple of poems that I wrote way back in the day - before I came into recovery. A few days ago, I found the very first poem that I ever wrote in recovery. It kind of makes me giggle to think that I started this quest to learn how to live in the moment twenty odd years ago.

Yesterday

holds memories and lessons

quite a few

Tomorrow

has my dreams, my hopes,

of which some may come true

But

anything that isn't now

I try to put away...

And

look for all I need from

life, in all I have

Today.

I haven't quite gotten there yet. But I am pleased to be reminded that I have for a very long time, been committed to the concept of mindfulness and living in the moment.

Eleven Years

My Mom died eleven years ago today. I would write about this sad anniversary but I'm afraid that I might lose myself in grief if I get started. I did write my way through it last year, and survived. Honestly, I just don't have the energy, today. My Dad is here, and he hasn't said a word about it, I am not sure if he realizes what day it is or not. Not sure if I will bring it up before the day is done.

In any case, I have Royal Wedding preparations to take care of, as well as a playoff hockey game to watch. So. I miss you Mom. I hope you are doing well, Wills and Kate. And - Go Habs Go.

Fortunately, You Tube always come through when I can't or choose not to find the words myself.

In loving memory of my Mom, Dorothy Mary

April 1932 - April 2000

Everyone Deserves a Life

Every year, as I start getting closer to celebrating my recovery clean date, I find myself wishing deeply that every woman who needs help to get clean, will get that help. Here is my message for each and every one of them.

Dear Newcomer,

One day you will look in the mirror and cry to yourself, “I just can’t do this anymore.” And you will put down your drink, your drug, your hell. You will stop the behaviour.

That’s Step One.

One day you will realize that against all odds, you have made it through a day (or through a “thing”) without using anything or getting loaded, and you will think to yourself, “Maybe there is something to this new way of life, maybe I can do this.”

That’s Step Two.

One day you will experiment with letting go of control of something that you have been hanging on to so tightly that it is killing you, and everything will turn out okay.

That’s Step Three.

One day you will look back over your past and start figuring out what you did wrong, and what you did right, and in so doing you will identify the patterns that ruled and (probably) still rule your life.

That’s Step Four.

One day you will share your past and your pain with another woman who has been where you have been, and through her understanding and acceptance, you will come to know that those things you can’t forgive yourself for are only things that you did, they are not who you are.

That’s Step Five.

One day you will finally become willing to change those patterns that still keep you from being your highest self, and once again you will come to believe that you can, if you choose to, change your life for the better. But it’s going to take some more work.

That’s Step Six.

One day you will try to replace just one of your character defects with its spiritual opposite, and the relief you will feel when you succeed will compel you to try to replace another one.

That’s Step Seven.

One day you will realize or remember that something you once said or did to another human being caused that person extreme pain, and you will find yourself wishing you could take it back, or make things right.

That’s Step Eight.

One day you will go to that person and say, “I am sorry, I have changed.” He or she may or may not be ready or willing to forgive you, but you will feel a great burden lift, just for having made the effort.

That’s Step Nine.

One day you will look back over your day before you close your eyes and recognize the moments in your day where you absolutely got something right, and reflect upon areas where you know you want to do better tomorrow.

That’s Step Ten.

One day you will realize that a few days have passed since you felt unworthy of the grace and the gifts that you are experiencing in your life, and you will start to wonder what else a higher power might have in mind for you.  

That’s Step Eleven.

One day you will recognize the same pain in another woman, that you once felt yourself. Perhaps you will see it in her eyes, or read it in her words. You will reach out to that woman with all that you are, all that you have learned and all that you know to be true. You will tell her that one day she will look in the mirror and realize that she can’t do it anymore. You will tell her that when that day comes, you will be there for her, just as others were here for you.

This is Step Twelve.

New Food For Thought

I don't have major issues with food. But I confess, I do have a few minor ones.

A close friend of mine recommended Geneen Roth's book Women Food and God to me months ago, so when I saw it on the shelf in the library last week, I grabbed it.

I haven't had a chance to dig into the book yet but tonight I did a few minutes of research into the author and was extremely pleased to find a YouTube discussion of the book between Roth and another favourite author of mine, Anne Lamott. I am excited to dig into the book after viewing this teaser clip.

Of course, I am also a bit hesitant. I don't want to uncover any new issues. And I have absolutely no intention of giving up strawberry shortcake during strawberry season.

The Art of Female Friendship

We may not have dressed quite as formally as the Empress Eugenie and her friends in the painting by Franz Xaver Winterhalter, but we all sure gave ourselves the royal treatment at our women's retreat last weekend.

In the end, seven of us gathered at Orveas Bay Beach House for a couple of days of good company, relaxation, gourmet-inspired meals and plenty of tea and coffee. (One boyfriend asked one of the girls why she was going to a place called Ovaries Bay. He's funny like that, but he wasn't far off.) Quite unanimously, we have all declared the retreat a magnificent success. 

The weekend was about sharing. Space. Food. And most of all, stories. Most of the narratives that we shared were similiar to what other groups of women would share in such a setting. We are really just your average ordinarily amazing women. Perhaps the most unique thing about us is that, combined, we share 75 years of twelve step recovery. Still, none of us consider ourself "recovered." Nor do we describe ourselves as sick, or defective, or deficient human beings. I don't think that I would be wrong if I said that all of us were absolutely grateful to be where we were that weekend, not just at Orveas Bay, but where we are in our lives.

Overall, we are a group of generally positive women, each just doing our best to live our best lives. A couple of us are recovering from overwork (including motherwork) and burnout. A couple more are actively working on workaholic tendencies in order not to become like a couple of us. Still, like so many women, most of us continuously struggle to balance our work lives against everything else including relationships, exercise, recovery, hobbies or other passions. At least one of us was seriously sleep-deprived upon arrival (darned toddlers, anyway). We are all at various stages in romantic relationships, from long-time married (me) to newly blossoming love and a couple of women thoughtfully pondering the possibility of remaining single for a spell longer. Not unhappily, I should add. Each of us had the opportunity to contemplate our issues with sugar and wheat, and one of us (not me) actually has the discipline to have given both up. She's our self-care hero, at present.

The pace for the weekend was set at slow to slightly slower. Most of us read, several of us meditated throughout the weekend, a few others strolled. One of us strummed a guitar. I for one climbed an outrageous trail, an activity that I swear nearly killed me, although the two women who were in front of me did fine. (Next time I am going to leave the beautiful beach rocks...on the beach). We made regular trips to the hot tub, one of us swung in a hammock on the porch even though it drizzled rain. We read some more, wrote steps, and a couple of us knit.

The spirit of womanly cooperation was captured beautifully on multiple occasions. Two massive meals came together, were served, and cleaned up, effortlessly. We came up with the fairest and most practical sleeping arrangements that we could manage, and smiled when the youngest of us admitted that she had the hardest bed, but with her tongue in her cheek proudly stated that as the youngest she could handle it. One of us (not me) sat patiently for nearly two hours helping another sort through a tangled ball of yarn. When it was time to pack up on Sunday morning, everybody came together to get tidied up. Again, effortlessly.

When we gave each other hugs before we climbed into our cars for the drive back to town, it seemed clear to each of us that we had shared something special. We all got to know one another, just a little better, and in so doing, came to know ourselves a little better too.

We are already looking forward to doing it again.

Your friends will know you better in the first minute they meet you than your acquaintances will know you in a thousand years.

(Richard Bach)

Chasing Authenticity

I've been trying to live by the Dr. Seuss quote, above.

I don't think that it is a coincidence that I keep coming across Brené Brown's work and words. I'm certain that some of the bloggers who I follow have mentioned her in their posts recently, and last night after watching the first instalment of The Kennedys, I came across a PBS special showcasing Brown and her research.

Today, I spent a bit of time researching her, including listening to this provocative TED talk that she gave on "The Power of Vulnerability."

I desperately want to speak, write and live my truth. But I feel like I've got a hell of a long way to go to get there.

Maybe Brené can help. I don't know her very well yet, but I already really like her. A lot.

Cheerio For Now

I am just about to shut off my computer for the the weekend and head off to a beach house with some close female friends. Hope to do a little healing, a lot of laughing, shed a tear, or three. A little bit of step writing. Some healthy eating. A walk by the ocean or two. A hot tub or two. About eight cups of Creamed Earl Grey.

It's a beautiful day in Paradise. Peace out. Here is where you will find me...

Or check out the website:

http://www.orveasbay.com/accommodations.htm



Things That Make Me Happy

I've been on such a downer this past while, it feels wonderful to be able to say that I've experienced some happy moments, this week. All because:

• It is snowing pink petals, everywhere;
• I found a perfect storage solution for our very small bathroom (chrome shelving unit that goes over the toilet);
• Soul Mate was able to put said unit together easily (he didn't even swear);
• I gambled that the bath mat from Superstore would match our shower curtain when I got it home, and it did;
• I made the best damned lasagna, ever;
• I now have the cleanest fridge, ever;
• I have only screwed up two rows of the scarf I am knitting;
• I decided I could live with two screwed up rows, and didn't take the scarf apart and start over;
• I took Yoga Kid's hatha class last night, and was so proud of her, I nearly cried;
• First Born survived a week-long ear infection and is feeling better;
• My white lilac tree has buds all over it and is sure to burst into bloom;
• I fell asleep easily last night, and slept soundly through the night (doesn't happen often);
• I sat in a room tonight that was filled with awesome, beautiful people; 
• I started a Jodi Picoult novel, and I love her writing;
• For the first time in months, I didn't have to crawl into my bed when I got home from my therapy session this morning. 

Small steps, but all in the right direction.

Remembering To Live a Life That Matters

Trying to be a little more upbeat than yesterday, today. Yoga helped. So did knitting. So did eating Kraft Dinner and watching the season opener of The United States of Tara with First Born.

Still, it won't hurt to end my day with a positive reflection on the meaning of life.

About 5 and 1/2 years ago, a friend of mine gave me a framed version of this poem by Michael Josephson. I had stage three colon cancer at the time. I wasn't sure that I was going to beat it. Reading these words had a profound impact on my thinking at the time.

Still does.

(Note: I posted this material as text previously on this blog, but just came across it in video.)

Strange Politics, But They Are Our Politics

I'm not going to lie, slowing down and taking care of myself has been a real struggle for me. I thought that I was finally getting the hang of it this past week, thanks to yoga, knitting, and some physical illness. Nothing like your body telling your mind and spirit to slow things the hell down. On a regular basis. I'm sure I'll figure that all out, soon.

In addition to two awesome yoga classes (one was on meditation, the other was a restorative class) and my knitting class, this week I also went away for a couple of days without my personal computer. That in itself was a new but healthy experience. For two days, I relaxed spending quality friends with close family friends. I was taken for a lovely drive, had a great seafood lunch "out," won a couple of crib games, had some tasty meals "in" and drank copious cups of good tea.

Oh, and we watched our government fall on television.

I mean really, where else but in Canada could a government be overthrown so quietly? For my American friends, the short story is that  yesterday our House of Commons voted 156-145 on a no-confidence resolution aimed to topple the Conservative government. This triggers the dissolution of Parliament and calls for an election to be held within the next several  weeks. This would be akin to your Republican leader dissolving Obama's Democrats and calling Americans back to polls. We we have different political systems, but you get the point. It would be big deal where you live. Not so much of a big deal here in Canada.

What strikes me the most about this event (it's happened a few times, lately) is its stark contrast with what is going on in the rest of the world. In particular, what is going on in the Middle East. What is happening here may seem ludicrous to some, but it provides clear and compelling evidence that only democracy makes sense.

A young woman for whom I have a great deal of respect wrote a lovely Facebook status yesterday, reaching out to her many young friends. I am repeating it here because it says it all. I'm sending it out to all of my Canadian friends and relatives (old and young) in the hopes that you will hear and consider her plea.

"In the last couple of months, we have watched as people from various countries have taken to the streets in order to exercise their right to determine their own fate and to hold their leaders accountable for their actions. We have watched them suffer and face serious reprisals in their fight for democracy. As we are asked to go to the polls again, I hope you will all remember this thing we take for granted."

Honesty, I hope you will, too.

Elizabeth Taylor, 1932 - 2011

I started knitting class last night and I fully intended this post to be about how much fun I had. Clearly, I am going to love this knitting thing. I learned that even I can be taught how to do purl stitch, rib stitch, seed stitch and one other stitch whose name escapes me (but I can show you how to do it). I was glad that I had reminded myself how to cast on by watching YouTube all weekend, because we really did launch right into knitting.

I wanted to write a little bit about how disappointed I was to find that there were no little old ladies in my knitting class. Well, except for me. Our instructor was in her early twenties, and none of the other three students looked like they had cracked thirty, yet. They were all lovely, don't get me wrong. It's just that I had this vision of sitting around with older, grandmotherly women. Which is kind of silly, since most older women already know how to knit. I had a hot flash while we were learning about measuring "gauge" in our knitting. I didn't quite understand, and I don't think that it was just the heightened body temperature that stood in my way.

So those were some of the things that I was going to write about, but honestly, my heart just isn't into penning about knitting.

I woke up to the news that Elizabeth Taylor has passed away. First Born just called me to make sure that I had heard. As she said "I knew you would care, Mom." I think it's very sweet that she knows that about me. I know that my daughters don't know much about Elizabeth Taylor, but they know that my mother and I (and maybe my Baby Sister?) thought a lot of her. It was less than a month ago that I blogged about missing seeing Elizabeth Taylor at the Oscars.

I grew up knowing that Elizabeth and my Mom were born in the same year. I think they were both beautiful, dark-haired women with piecingly bright eyes  - Mom's blue and Elizabeth's violet. Mom used to talk about watching the young Elizabeth in her early films (National Velvet was her favourite as a young girl) and absolutely loving her. Being of the same age, she once joked, she felt they had some things in common, give or take six or seven husbands and a billion dollars. Her adoration turned to admiration when Elizabeth Taylor started fundraising for AIDS in support of one of my Mom's other favourite movie stars, Rock Hudson.

Elizabeth Taylor was one of the last remaining Hollywood Movie Stars. I guess I'm getting to that age where I will start to see the "passing of an era" on a regular basis. I suppose I'm part of an era where young women are picking up knitting needles more and more, and even teaching a few of us older ones how to use them. Guess I'm grateful that I'm here, knitting and watching eras pass. As a cancer survivor, I have no right to bitch about getting older.

Speaking of eras ending, I'm going to miss Larry King tonight, he would have done a great show talking to people who knew and loved Elizabeth Taylor. Larry is on CNN right now, being interviewed about the star's passing. Larry's with me on this one, Elizabeth was special. As he just said, "we'll never replace her."

I don't mean to be so dependent upon YouTube these days, but the late Paul Newman's tribute to Elizabeth Taylor really says a lot. Rest in Peace, Elizabeth.

Slowing Down on a Sunday Afternoon

My mother taught me to love Sunday afternoons. So I'm trying hard to love this one. You have to catch the right "pace" to nail a good Sunday afternoon. The trick is not to be too productive, but yet not become so relaxed that it could be mistaken for paralysis. So far, I'm doing pretty well.

Here are the highlights:

• drank two cups of creamed earl grey (sweetened, with milk)
• ate two crumpets, smothered in butter and plum jam
• had a Skype call with my dear cousin from Montreal. It was her first time on Skype, it was hilarious to see how excited she was, and she got to show me around her house, which was cool
• had a Skype call with my other cousin from Montreal and two of her three boys. Dylan asked me if we grow mangoes where I live (we don't)
• spent a few minutes tidying off my desk
• read a few chapters of a new novel (Sheila Curran's Everyone She Loved)
• listened to one of my favourite tunes sung by K.D. Lang

Now I am waiting for Yoga Kid to get home, she went to pick up First Born. We are having family dinner for the first time in a while. Everybody is so busy these days, I'm really looking forward to being together for a meal. Soul Mate has his specialty ribs baking in the oven. He smothers them in garlic, covers them with orange slices and bakes them for hours, then tosses them in a secret bbq sauce and bakes them a while longer. I am going to make asparagus and salad. Lemon meringue pie for dessert.

Family, food, and as much reading as I can fit in. Exactly the way my mother taught me. Happy Sunday afteroon, everybody. As Leonard Cohen wrote, and K.D. Lang can really belt out...Hallelujah.

Making A List

I feel compelled to make a gratitude list. In no particular order, these are the things I feel grateful for, right now, in this moment:

• I spent over five hours today with Yoga Kid and First Born (shopping for eyeglasses) and not one of us bitched or fought about anything (this is an amazing feat)
• As of tonight, we have a new premier in our province (similiar to a state's governor, if you are American) and it's a woman
• A boat fell on Soul Mate at work the other day and it didn't squish him to death (he did injure his shoulder and neck)
• I love getting comments, and Jenni Engledow left me a lovely one (check out Jenni's blog, listed in my Blogs of Note)
• Tomorrow is the Academy Awards, and I get to continue a tradition by watching them with my daughters (I always used to watch them with my mother, but then she died)
• Only five more sleeps and Soul Mate and I get to go to Tofino for the first time ever
• I am beginning to understand the nature of my malaise, and am figuring out what I need to do in order to heal
• I drank a Tim Horton's 1/2 French Vanilla, 1/2 Coffee drink this evening, first time in a really long time (I used to live on them)
• A dear friend is recovering well from colon cancer surgery (I did too)
• I get to crawl into bed and sleep under our new duvet (it's Egyptian Cotton, don't know how we lived without one until now)
• I am pretty sure Soul Mate will make me bacon and eggs in the morning if I ask him nicely (apologies to the vegans and vegetarians)
• I had a really good hair day
• I sat in a room full of friends this evening and knew with absolute certainty that there is a higher power.

In gratitude,
Dawn

Coming Out of the Blogger's Closet

I don't know Jenni Engledow, but I like her a lot.

I decided today was the day to start to let people know that I have a blog. After all, it is the two week anniversary of my commitment to myself to blog every day. I'm loving it, intend to keep doing it, and I think it is time to put myself out "there" a little bit.

Sadly, I have absolutely no understanding of how blogs work. I thought about figuring out the mechanics before I started this new blog, but that proved a mode of procrastination, so I decided to start writing and sort the details out later. I need to figure out how to get traffic, apparently.

Today, I went to my beloved She Writes site and posted in a few spots that I had started a new blog. (I haven't quite figured out how the She Writes site works either). I didn't really know what would  happen if or when people visited my blog, or if I would know what was happening when it was happening. I did notice that there is a tab called "stats" that, as far as I can tell, up until today has merely registered every time I viewed my own blog.

Well anyway, several hours after letting my own cat out of my own bag, I checked my "stats" again and what do you know. Something called "traffic sources" listed a web address, which I assumed indicated that - I got traffic!

I clicked on the website and lo and behold, the remarkable Jenni Engledow has Recovering Dawn right there under a list entitled "Interesting Blogs." Oh. My. God. Jenni, I adore you. I am so going to figure out how to get you on my list of interesting blogs once I figure out how to start such a list. Until then, let's do this the old fashioned way.

If anybody other than Jenni and I ever read this blog, be sure to check out Jenni's blog, The Engledow Chronicles: Musings of a Suburban Housewife and Mother. Have a look at her Blurbs of Wisdom in particular, there are some absolute gems. For example:

If you want your life to be a magnificent story, then begin by realizing that you are the author and everyday you have the opportunity to write a new page. – unknown

I am so happy to be writing these "pages." Thank you Jenni, for giving them a read.

This Writing Every Day Thing is Tough

Some days I got nothing.

Still, I am committed to blogging each and every day so for tonight, I thought I would share the original version of what most of us program people know as "The Serenity Prayer." I've recited the shorter version often since I learned it so many years ago, but what follows is the longer original prayer written by Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971).

God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.

I am not a religious person, but I love prayers. It must be something about ritual for me.

Going forward, my evening blogging  ritual will be about writing original material. But I am not there, so just for today, I'm going with Reinhold's prayer. Blessings on the lot of you. Meet you back here tomorrow.

Gratitude

I feel better today, lighter, happier. I remembered to breath deeply throughout the day, figure that had anything to do with it?

And so, I am grateful. To celebrate my new attitude, I want to share a blog post on gratitude written by my beautiful daughter, Taryn.

http://www.anahatamoonyoga.com/blog/2011/01/practice-gratitude/

Enjoi. (That's French for enjoy).