I did not write the following, but the person who did could have written it about herself. What she did was write this because she knew that I was feeling unappreciated. Sometimes a few kind words can really make a person's day. The following did just that for me. Thank you, Jena, for understanding and empathizing. You are the one who taught me about being a friend. You are truly the one who ROKs!
"Earlier this morning, while chatting with one of my internet friends, I was once again reminded of how wonderful it is to have her friendship.
NEVER ONCE during our brief friendship, has she ever failed to lend an ear if I needed someone to talk too.
Her friendship is something that I will always treasure! I just hope that I give her the same sort of strength that she gives to me.
I know this is one of those mushy posts, but it's something that I wanted to share.
If at some point today, you talk to one of your internet friends. Take the time to tell them how much you value their friendship.
Don't just need a friend, be a friend...........your life will be blessed because of it!
This post is dedicated to one of the nicest ladies that I've NEVER had the pleasure to meet!
BINGO, you ROK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You've lifted my spirits more often than you realize!"
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Friday, March 18, 2005
Is That My Color?
Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day and we attended a covered dish dinner held by a civic organization to which we belong. This organization was created as a vehicle through which a nearby small community could raise funds for its local volunteer fire department and emergency first responders. Since it is a rural community, the dress for its events is usually very casual. For this event, the flyer suggested that everyone wear something green in keeping with the spirit of the day.
I have always said that green is my favorite color. However, when I searched through my newly reorganized closets and very extensive wardrobe, I suddenly realized how few green things I owned. A quick glance at my closet shows mostly black with red and blue pieces mixed in. Over the years, I thought I had remembered wearing a lot of green. Perhaps it was that I remembered wearing green because those happened to be my favorite things at the time. I am not sure, but looking around my house, I realized that there was not that much green in the decor either, although I did recover the seats of some bar stools in a dark green several years ago.
So what makes a color one's favorite color? Is it the color that we enjoy wearing the most or living with, or is our favorite color because of what it symbolizes to each of us? I know that I always liked green because it is tranquil and reminds me of nature, and yet I see very little green in my clothing or home right now.
Recently, my mother told me that she was thinking of repainting the walls in their house a pale yellow because yellow is her favorite color. I knew that my mother wore a lot of bright yellow as well as other bright colors, but was surprised to learn that yellow was her favorite color. Similarly, one of my sisters in law once told me that yellow was also her favorite color. That was a complete surprise because I have never seen her in yellow nor it is used in her home either. Often when I think of people, I do think of them in terms of certain colors. For example, while the concept of yellow being my mother's favorite color is not foreign, I think of her as a bright lime green. My sister in law is definitely a rose or pink person. Those colors look great on her, and she has used a lot of mauve in her home.
Last Christmas my mother in law gave my two sisters in law and me each a decorative bracelet watch. Each watch was distinctly different and obviously chosen with our individual tastes and personalities in mind. My watch was a bold black and white enamel that was very funky and contemporary, while the ones chosen for my sisters in law were both more traditional and subtle. I loved the one that my mother in law had chosen for me and would have chosen that one for myself. When I think of the clothing that my mother in law has given me in the past, nearly everything has been black or red or a combination of those two colors. And I have always loved the things that my mother in law chooses for me.
So whatever happened to my favorite color? Or was it really my favorite color? Or is my favortie color simply the victim of the color professionals who declare the "in" color palette each year? Or is it simply a color whose symbolic qualities I admire but do not really use in my personal choices of clothing and home decor? I am not sure. However, I am beginning to think that my mother in law is right about my colors, and my colors are actually black and red.
I have always said that green is my favorite color. However, when I searched through my newly reorganized closets and very extensive wardrobe, I suddenly realized how few green things I owned. A quick glance at my closet shows mostly black with red and blue pieces mixed in. Over the years, I thought I had remembered wearing a lot of green. Perhaps it was that I remembered wearing green because those happened to be my favorite things at the time. I am not sure, but looking around my house, I realized that there was not that much green in the decor either, although I did recover the seats of some bar stools in a dark green several years ago.
So what makes a color one's favorite color? Is it the color that we enjoy wearing the most or living with, or is our favorite color because of what it symbolizes to each of us? I know that I always liked green because it is tranquil and reminds me of nature, and yet I see very little green in my clothing or home right now.
Recently, my mother told me that she was thinking of repainting the walls in their house a pale yellow because yellow is her favorite color. I knew that my mother wore a lot of bright yellow as well as other bright colors, but was surprised to learn that yellow was her favorite color. Similarly, one of my sisters in law once told me that yellow was also her favorite color. That was a complete surprise because I have never seen her in yellow nor it is used in her home either. Often when I think of people, I do think of them in terms of certain colors. For example, while the concept of yellow being my mother's favorite color is not foreign, I think of her as a bright lime green. My sister in law is definitely a rose or pink person. Those colors look great on her, and she has used a lot of mauve in her home.
Last Christmas my mother in law gave my two sisters in law and me each a decorative bracelet watch. Each watch was distinctly different and obviously chosen with our individual tastes and personalities in mind. My watch was a bold black and white enamel that was very funky and contemporary, while the ones chosen for my sisters in law were both more traditional and subtle. I loved the one that my mother in law had chosen for me and would have chosen that one for myself. When I think of the clothing that my mother in law has given me in the past, nearly everything has been black or red or a combination of those two colors. And I have always loved the things that my mother in law chooses for me.
So whatever happened to my favorite color? Or was it really my favorite color? Or is my favortie color simply the victim of the color professionals who declare the "in" color palette each year? Or is it simply a color whose symbolic qualities I admire but do not really use in my personal choices of clothing and home decor? I am not sure. However, I am beginning to think that my mother in law is right about my colors, and my colors are actually black and red.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Clearing the Clutter
Yesterday I spent most of my day cleaning out closets. They really need it and I have been remiss in doing it for some time. It seems the longer you let things go, the more difficult it is to keep them up. A lot of things in my life has been neglected, particularly around my house.
As we prepare to begin remodelling our kitchen and bathroom, the sheer enormity of clearing out the clutter has begun to overwhelm me. Each time I start on one area and make progress, something seems to happen that sets me back. And so it goes in a ever increasingly cluttered circle.
When more than one person is involved in the creation of the clutter, it takes all parties to remove it. For some of us, it is difficult to physically and emotionally part with things that may have once been dear or valuable, but no longer have purpose. So it was when I started in the kitchen cabinets last week. Who needs three fondue pots that have not been used in 20 years? Or a broken vegetable steamer? While I debated with myself over the merit of owning three fondue pots, I promptly tossed the broken steamer in the garbage, only to see my husband fish it out later in the day. De-cluttering is a frustrating battle in our household.
So I moved on to my closet and clothing. There, I have control and I am making great progress in my effort to simplify and clean out. First I removed everything that was on hangers and sorted it into piles on the bed. I placed all the pants in one pile, jeans in another, sweaters in a third, skirts in a fourth, and finally a small pile of dresses which I draped over a chair. I began with the pants and jeans and tried everything on. The reality of the extra five pounds put on a Christmas struck me harshly, as several pairs of pants were uncomfortably snug. So I made a mental note of seriously watching what I eat and forcing myself to get more exercise. Five pounds on a relatively small person like myself is significant.
As I made my way through the stacks, I began to think about a book I had bought a while back after a friend had recommended it to me. It is called "Clear Your Clutter With Feng Shui." My friend bought it after she and her boyfriend of over eight years had broken up. It made such an impact on her, that she took a week off from work and completely cleaned out her house of the physical clutter. She also began cleaning her mind of the emotional and mental clutter. When she finished, she cut her very long hair and decided to search for a more satisfying job in her hometown. Within months, she found a wonderful job in her hometown, sold her house in less than a week, bought a home five minutes from her new job, and never looked back. She is so much happier now than she has been in years.
Cleaning out the clutter is not just a physical act There is an enormous amount of emotional clutter we all carry around. Lately, I have been thinking about some of the clutter in my life. Non-rewarding relationships, unresolved personal issues, and my hair, my hair, my hair have all been dragging me down. One of the most frustrating things for me lately is the amount of emotional investment I have put into people and things without getting any return. Maybe it is time for me to read the book again. Then I need to get a plan, clean out the physical clutter in my house, and try to change how I deal with the negative people and emotions that have been cluttering my life and hindering me from moving forward.
As we prepare to begin remodelling our kitchen and bathroom, the sheer enormity of clearing out the clutter has begun to overwhelm me. Each time I start on one area and make progress, something seems to happen that sets me back. And so it goes in a ever increasingly cluttered circle.
When more than one person is involved in the creation of the clutter, it takes all parties to remove it. For some of us, it is difficult to physically and emotionally part with things that may have once been dear or valuable, but no longer have purpose. So it was when I started in the kitchen cabinets last week. Who needs three fondue pots that have not been used in 20 years? Or a broken vegetable steamer? While I debated with myself over the merit of owning three fondue pots, I promptly tossed the broken steamer in the garbage, only to see my husband fish it out later in the day. De-cluttering is a frustrating battle in our household.
So I moved on to my closet and clothing. There, I have control and I am making great progress in my effort to simplify and clean out. First I removed everything that was on hangers and sorted it into piles on the bed. I placed all the pants in one pile, jeans in another, sweaters in a third, skirts in a fourth, and finally a small pile of dresses which I draped over a chair. I began with the pants and jeans and tried everything on. The reality of the extra five pounds put on a Christmas struck me harshly, as several pairs of pants were uncomfortably snug. So I made a mental note of seriously watching what I eat and forcing myself to get more exercise. Five pounds on a relatively small person like myself is significant.
As I made my way through the stacks, I began to think about a book I had bought a while back after a friend had recommended it to me. It is called "Clear Your Clutter With Feng Shui." My friend bought it after she and her boyfriend of over eight years had broken up. It made such an impact on her, that she took a week off from work and completely cleaned out her house of the physical clutter. She also began cleaning her mind of the emotional and mental clutter. When she finished, she cut her very long hair and decided to search for a more satisfying job in her hometown. Within months, she found a wonderful job in her hometown, sold her house in less than a week, bought a home five minutes from her new job, and never looked back. She is so much happier now than she has been in years.
Cleaning out the clutter is not just a physical act There is an enormous amount of emotional clutter we all carry around. Lately, I have been thinking about some of the clutter in my life. Non-rewarding relationships, unresolved personal issues, and my hair, my hair, my hair have all been dragging me down. One of the most frustrating things for me lately is the amount of emotional investment I have put into people and things without getting any return. Maybe it is time for me to read the book again. Then I need to get a plan, clean out the physical clutter in my house, and try to change how I deal with the negative people and emotions that have been cluttering my life and hindering me from moving forward.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
A Live Human Being
My husband and I are getting ready to do a major kitchen renovation. Our home is thirty years old and we have lived in it for 22 years. From the beginning, I never liked my kitchen counters and cabinets. The original counters were orange which was a very popular color back in the mid 70's when our house was built. About two years after we bought our house, I tiled over them with an off white tile. The cabinets are a country style, as was much of the rest of the house. Over the years, I have tried to do everything possible to de-countrify our house, including removal of shutters on the outside which gave it a more contemporary look. However, the cabinets with their vertical grooves remained.
My sister in law who is a residential realtor told us that we really needed to update our home if we ever decided to move. Finally, I convinced my husband that we really needed to remodel our kitchen and hall bath. He told me to come up with a budget and plans and then we might do it. I have spent nearly a year doing research and formulating what I wanted. Since we were going to have to replace everything in our kitchen, I figured that I might just go for the layout I really wanted. After several drafts, I came up with a floor plan that opened the kitchen up to our family room and had a counter bar for seating. My husband liked the plan, and when I budgeted it out, it was doable.
My husband's taste reflects that of his mother which is dark wood traditional and somewhat formal. I prefer a cleaner and more casual contemporary look. The clash of different tastes has been a problem for us for years, but I usually have given in. Most of our furniture looks like his mother's house. So the idea of us agreeing on cabinets and decor was a little scary. He told me to pick out a couple of cabinet styles that I liked and then he would look at them. I had one cabinet that I really liked and surprisingly, so did he. It was almost too easy for two people who have such different tastes.
We ordered our cabinets through a home improvement center who placed the order with a national cabinet manufacturer. The cabinets are manufactured only after the order is received. A little over twenty four hours later, a representative of the cabinet company called to set up a delivery date of less than one month. In addition, the representative gave me her name and telephone extension number in case a problem cropped up. I could not believe it. In this day and age of impersonal customer service, I talked to a real human being who gave me her name and phone number. Every so often, just as I become jaded about big business, my faith in customer service gets renewed. It did that day.
My sister in law who is a residential realtor told us that we really needed to update our home if we ever decided to move. Finally, I convinced my husband that we really needed to remodel our kitchen and hall bath. He told me to come up with a budget and plans and then we might do it. I have spent nearly a year doing research and formulating what I wanted. Since we were going to have to replace everything in our kitchen, I figured that I might just go for the layout I really wanted. After several drafts, I came up with a floor plan that opened the kitchen up to our family room and had a counter bar for seating. My husband liked the plan, and when I budgeted it out, it was doable.
My husband's taste reflects that of his mother which is dark wood traditional and somewhat formal. I prefer a cleaner and more casual contemporary look. The clash of different tastes has been a problem for us for years, but I usually have given in. Most of our furniture looks like his mother's house. So the idea of us agreeing on cabinets and decor was a little scary. He told me to pick out a couple of cabinet styles that I liked and then he would look at them. I had one cabinet that I really liked and surprisingly, so did he. It was almost too easy for two people who have such different tastes.
We ordered our cabinets through a home improvement center who placed the order with a national cabinet manufacturer. The cabinets are manufactured only after the order is received. A little over twenty four hours later, a representative of the cabinet company called to set up a delivery date of less than one month. In addition, the representative gave me her name and telephone extension number in case a problem cropped up. I could not believe it. In this day and age of impersonal customer service, I talked to a real human being who gave me her name and phone number. Every so often, just as I become jaded about big business, my faith in customer service gets renewed. It did that day.
Friday, March 11, 2005
A Killer Lives Here
As I have written in my profile, my husband and I have no children, but we do have four dogs. We are fond of saying that our dogs own us, not us them. Three of our dogs are older, between the ages of eight and ten. Willie Bear is our youngest dog at age two and a half. I call him Baby Dog because it seems as though he will never grow up.
Willie Bear is a pomeranian on steroids. At 20 pounds, he is four times the size of a show quality pom. We knew when we got him that he was going to be a larger dog because the parents were 10 and 14 pounds each. Pomeranians are the smallest of the northern spitz dogs. Before the breeders got ahold of them and bred them down to tinker toys, pomeranians were about 30 pound dogs that were used to pull small sleds in the northern countries. Willie Bear is a throw back to what the breed originally was. He has the original, beautiful wolf eyes instead of the bug eyes that the show dogs have. He is all muscle and no fat. Our vet has said that he is the athlete of our dogs.
Nothing about Willie Bear is subtle. Not his size, not the way he struts, not the way he goes out the door or comes back in. When we let him out in the yard, he leaps out the door and he dashes to come back in. Out in the yard, he literally flies about, chasing squirrels and birds and rabbits. He is like a quarter horse in speed compared to the thoroughbred greyhounds. I have never seen a faster dog in a short dash in my life.
On Tuesday afternoon, I let the springers (the Orcas) and Willie Bear out in the back yard. The Orcas don't like to be out there alone for long, so they came right back in. But Willie Bear stayed out like he often does, laying out in the yard for much longer periods, and enjoying the warm spring weather and watching the birds.
When I checked on him later, he was waiting on the back patio, grinning from ear to ear. He had proudly dragged home the remains of a full grown rabbit that he had caught and killed in our back yard. It was fresh and there was very little left of it. Our Baby Dog had caught and tasted what every dog dreams of.......rabbit! Willie Bear may be a rabbit killer, but he is still our Baby Dog.
Willie Bear is a pomeranian on steroids. At 20 pounds, he is four times the size of a show quality pom. We knew when we got him that he was going to be a larger dog because the parents were 10 and 14 pounds each. Pomeranians are the smallest of the northern spitz dogs. Before the breeders got ahold of them and bred them down to tinker toys, pomeranians were about 30 pound dogs that were used to pull small sleds in the northern countries. Willie Bear is a throw back to what the breed originally was. He has the original, beautiful wolf eyes instead of the bug eyes that the show dogs have. He is all muscle and no fat. Our vet has said that he is the athlete of our dogs.
Nothing about Willie Bear is subtle. Not his size, not the way he struts, not the way he goes out the door or comes back in. When we let him out in the yard, he leaps out the door and he dashes to come back in. Out in the yard, he literally flies about, chasing squirrels and birds and rabbits. He is like a quarter horse in speed compared to the thoroughbred greyhounds. I have never seen a faster dog in a short dash in my life.
On Tuesday afternoon, I let the springers (the Orcas) and Willie Bear out in the back yard. The Orcas don't like to be out there alone for long, so they came right back in. But Willie Bear stayed out like he often does, laying out in the yard for much longer periods, and enjoying the warm spring weather and watching the birds.
When I checked on him later, he was waiting on the back patio, grinning from ear to ear. He had proudly dragged home the remains of a full grown rabbit that he had caught and killed in our back yard. It was fresh and there was very little left of it. Our Baby Dog had caught and tasted what every dog dreams of.......rabbit! Willie Bear may be a rabbit killer, but he is still our Baby Dog.
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