Isn’t it Beautiful…what blogging is teaching me.

This is my 1,001st post. I was notified on Friday after I posted, and had I realized, I would have planned something special…maybe.ūüėČ

One Thousand and one.

That’s a lot of words and a lot of photos. A lot of research, and editing, late nights and struggles to string sentences together so that the words were more than just…words.¬†I wanted words that painted pictures and shared stories. I struggled most with sharing my heart. These posts (and the stack¬†of unfinished thoughts) represent more than the Opera of the Everday. They represent a journey.

I started this blog on an whim, an¬†uncharacteristic move for an¬†introverted, insecure, perfectionistic individual.¬†It all happened so fast, from conception to writing my first word. My heart was pounding and I could hardly contain my excitement. I was ready for adventure.¬†My goals were simple: ¬†1) to try new things; and, 2) to laugh more.¬†I’ve done both. Who knew I could run in a Mud Hero race, and live to laugh about it later?

But sometimes I strugged.

Society expects us to have goals and to pour ourselves into making them happen. We have work goals, and personal life goals. We even set goals for the lives of those over whom we hold a sphere of influence. We beat ourselves up when we fail to meet our goals. We wonder if we have any value if we fail to even make goals in the first place. Sometimes along the way, I got caught up in it here too.

My best-laid plans would sabotage the creative process. Deadlines would crush enthusiasm. Insecurity created fear and doubt. Self-worth would get tangled up in the small number of “likes” and the lack of comments. People came…and people went. I wondered if I be better off if I just let it go. If I disappeared, would anybody really notice?

There were days when I didn’t feel like laughing. Days when I¬†wasn’t brave enough to try something new. Days when I felt too vulnerable or broken, or just too small to share what I was really thinking or feeling.

Which was a shame.

Isn’t that part of what makes us human? Isn’t what we need, what we crave for in our connections with others? The freedom to be who we are – broken people struggling to make plans, and share our stories, and find joy. To let down our¬†guard and remove the mask. To crush the facade we live behind and just…be.

So I pondered and meditated, and struggled some more to compile my short list of just what this journey is (slowly) teaching me.

  • Be kind to yourself. Set realistic expectations.
  • We all fail. It’s ok.
  • Be yourself. Don’t be afraid to be broken or imperfect.
  • Do what you feel called to do. ¬†Especially if it makes you happy.
  • Eveyone is a critic. Listen to the ones you know you can trust!
  • Take one day at a time. Rest when necessary.
  • Laugh in the midst of the “Opera of the Everyday”.
  • Share your story.
  • Embrace your littleness.
  • Write.

“Isn’t it beautifu

l the way we fall apart
It’s magical and tragic all the ways we break our hearts
So unpredictable, we’re comfortably miserable
We think we’re invincible, completely unbreakable
And maybe we are
Isn’t it beautiful the way we fall apart.”
РWe As Human, We Fall Apart


Thank you to those who have let me share time with you.  Thank you to those who have taken time to share back.


Today’s Daily Post theme was “tiny”. To see other “tiny” posts, click here.

One Fine Day

Yesterday started as¬†just another ordinary , rainy day and then Murphy’s Law kicked in…

I was clicking away on my keyboard, tucked neatly in my cubicle of purgatory at work, when one of our seniors ushered in a middle-aged woman in tight leather pants and “vamp¬†red” lipstick, smiling broadly.

She looked fantastic!

Murphy’s Law:

Spend hours selecting wardrobe, fixing hair and applying make-up.
Meet No one.

Agonize briefly over wardrobe, skip hair and make-up.
Meet the Queen.

When I got dressed after dragging myself from my safe haven (like Flossy), I had fully expected to be ignored at work. I was dressed ‚Äúappropriately‚ÄĚ for work in basic, matronly¬†clothes: grey slacks, a grey & purple print top, and a black cardigan. I knew the building would be full of seniors for their monthly potluck gathering, and I didn’t want to offend them with my sassy green boots or a filmy shirt that might show my tattoo. But mostly, I was tired and I fully expected to meet no one whose opinion might make me question my life choices. Yet, here we were! A sexy vamp and…me! In that moment, I was thankful that I had at least taken time to¬†swap¬†my orange sneakers for black heels, and while I hadn‚Äôt brushed my hair yet, it was neatly pinned up. The barn door, however, desperately needing painting ‚Äď I wasn’t even wearing Chapstick!

She shook my hand firmly as she introduced herself, and passed me a business card. She was a location scout for an upcoming movie starring Robert De Niro. They needed a location to shoot a high school cafeteria scene on short notice since the place they booked had fallen through. Could she look around?

While we were looking around, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window overlooking the gymnasium. It was worse than I thought. I looked, well…


photo courtesy of

She happily chatted away as we toured the building, explaining in detail what they were looking for and why. Filming would be right before Christmas.  She even said I would get to meet Mr. De Niro, if they chose our location.

They didn’t. I won’t.

I tried harder this morning. I took¬†some more time to select my clothes: grey dress pants, white & yellow striped sweater. I accessorized with a yellow scarf and a silver watch. I brushed my hair. I even thought about putting on make-up, but decided I shouldn’t go crazy first thing in the morning. I might put an eye out!

I spent the day in the office…alone.

Still, it’s the weekend so…


photo courtesy of

WPC: Walk in the Fog

Despite the fact that it was drizzling Monday afternoon, it was also warm, and the leaves were displaying their splendor. I went for a short walk along the bike path around 3 in the afternoon.


As you can see, I wasn’t the only one enjoying the leaves on the bike path! Half an hour later, the fog was so thick, you couldn’t see the trees, so I’m thankful I took my spontaneous walk when I did. Just imagine these¬†trees on a sunny day! Magnificent!

“Spontaneity, the hallmark of childhood, is well worth cultivating to counteract the rigidity that may otherwise set in as we grow older.” – Gail Sheehy

To see more Local photos, click here.


Holly Homemaker Strikes Again

It’s that time of year again – the time of year when that tart, Holly Homemaker, makes a visit. She whispers in my ear with her pumpkin-spiced breath, enticing me to don my apron and grab my feather duster. Move over, June Cleaver!

When you’re dead, you don’t know you’re dead. It’s only painful for those around you…It’s the same when you’re stupid.

I believe her. Every time.

I forget I’m not a domestic goddess. I start cooking and¬†baking burnt offerings in my oven. And my family cowers in the freshly washed corners of the living room. This year, they are also soaking through their t-shirts because, while the calendar says it’s the middle of October, Mother Nature is holding on to summer-y temperatures. Which means, I’m trying to make soup and bake bread when we’d be better off still enjoying Popsicles.

We’re supposed to have a thunderstorm this afternoon. ¬†If this keeps up, there may be a volatile¬†storm in my house, ¬†with lots of loud thunder. In the last 5 days, I have made 2¬†batches of homemade cauliflower soup, 1 batch of broccoli soup and 2 dozen cabbage rolls – Little Guy won’t touch any of it! I have 1 more batch of cauliflower soup and 1-2 batches of butternut squash soup to go! Most of it will roll straight into the freezer.

Why so much soup, you ask? Because winter is coming…and my pants don’t fit. Especially my¬†dark wash jeans that created such a stir in Old Navy. The tag is still on the refrigerator door, under an assortment of fridge magnets from other countries that I will never get to visit. I’m thankful I can still¬†enjoy the loose fit of my sundresses and sandals, but like a thief in the night, winter’s grip will be upon us and I can’t wade through knee-deep snow to my car in my sandals. Well…not if I want to keep my toes!

I’m trying to get ahead of¬†the¬†inevitable straining and wiggling my body will endure every morning, just so I get dressed. And with the other inevitable (i.e., the raging inferno of my dying youth), I can no longer rely on bulky sweaters to cover up the rogue back fat, bingo wings, or muffin top!

Have you ever noticed diet is spelled DIE with a “t”?

I know this isn’t going to end well. It never does. Holly has a tendency to disappear about the time exhaustion sets in and the stack of dirty dishes outnumbers the clean ones. Why let her in, in the first place, you ask? To be honest, I have yet to discover her secret. I am disappointed with my own gullibility. I suspect she plays on my deepest insecurities, persuading me she will always be my best friend and deceiving me with her lies that we’re in this together! Just yesterday, she joined me in a¬†morning walk (possibly the first of the year-yikes!), making dessert suggestions and sharing decorating ideas. ¬†Lo! And behold! I came home from the grocery store with a bag of icing sugar and a bag of ground almonds to make french macarons.



I’d love to know what¬†tactics she employed to brainwash me into thinking I could tackle such a technical dessert (not to mention low-calorie. Ha!) The ¬†benefit of that¬†information would far outweigh what I’m going to weigh once I eat all those macarons, assuming they don’t become burnt offerings as well.


photo courtesy of

Holly Homemaker, one of these days, I’ll become wise to your wiles and will lock the door¬†the moment I smell sugar cookies. Now, let’s go make fresh pasta!


Next Week: Holly Homemaker: The Prequel

WPC: Local

A river runs through my town, and anyone who has frequented my blog has seen photos of my river…from the small bridge near my parents’ home at the north end, to the Falls and Boardwalk at the south end.

The foundation of the¬†bridge near my parents’ home is all the remains – I couldn’t even find a photo of it on the internet, prior to its collapse when I was a teenager. I suspect most of the local residents are unfamiliar with its story.

This bridge is named after a descendant of slaves brought north by a Loyalist family, one of the first settlers just east of town. Some of the slaves, once freed men, became well-known and prominent businessmen. One man became the proprietor of a major stage line, bringing passengers and packages between cities. Another man owned a livery and a successful tavern.  Unforunately, the man who settled on this river, and for whom the bridge is named, was drowned in the river. At this time, there is no known person of the name now living.


“In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.” – ¬†Leonardo da Vincio

To see more Local photos from other photographers, click here.

A Lot of Dough

“I’m not saying let’s go kill all of the stupid people…I’m just saying let’s remove all the warning labels and let the problem sort itself out.” – Author Unknown

I’ve had my fair share of encounters with stupid people. They are…everywhere. They are in the stores, the school parking lot, and even at work. Fortunately, most of them were smart enough to stay away from me…this week anyway.

It’s Friday and I’m feeling a little frazzled. Last weekend, I¬†drove over 300 km, took over 200 photos and ate turkey at least 4 meals in a row. No regrets! But it means the sitting, the fresh air and the food kinda turned my brain to mush and I haven’t written a thing.

Cue the “maybe someday list” of writing topics…and this little news story¬†from 18 months ago screamed “pick me”! It tickled my fancy at the time¬†and it’s¬†tickling something now…

Setting: April, 2015. Alaska

Characters: Two male geniuses, ages 21 & 29, respectively. Drunk, high or just¬†not the sharpest knives in the¬†drawer – we’ll never know.

One Sunday evening, two friends (with the munchies?) decided to steal frozen pizzas from a warehouse. They made off with 80 with an estimated street value of $1000 (approx. $13.75/pie). They cooked and ate¬†5 of those pies before one of them cooked up the idea of making some dough by selling some pizza…but to whom? How about at the¬†local police station.

It was a cheesy move!

On-duties officers, already alerted to the theft, received an interesting phone call and played along. They easily captured the culprits red-handed (with tomato-sauce)! The pair faced charges of second degree burglary and second degree theft.

75 pizza pies were recovered! ¬† That’s a lot of dough!

“The problem with the gene pool is that there’s no lifeguard.” – David Gerrold

Happy Weekend!