Adventures on my mom's birthday ~ Coba Ruins, Mexico

My mom's birthday fell at the end of the week during my yoga retreat in Tulum, Mexico. As I thought about how I would spend that day, I considered spending the day alone, in solitude and silence, honoring her with loving thoughts and maybe drawing mandalas all day.

Well, anyone who knew my mom would know that a "day of solitude and silence" would never have worked for her. Ha! And no way would she expect me to take a vow of silence - even for an hour, much less an entire day. In hindsight I realize that my idea of solitude and silence was brewing in my mind as a way to prepare myself for the possibility of being friend-less on this trip to Mexico. And we all know how that played out! ;o)

As it turned out, my group of yoga friends had an opportunity to take a really awesome tour on my mom's birthday. We got to climb Mayan ruins, hike through the jungle to see spider monkeys in their natural habitat, receive a blessing from a Mayan shaman, zip-line across a lagoon and into the jungle, and we even swam in an underground cave/cenote. And, we got to have a really great meal at an authentic Mexican restaurant that my mom would have loved! I couldn't have planned a better way to honor my mom on her birthday if I had tried!

There were so many activities on this day, so I've decided to break them up into a few different blog posts. Today is part one...

♥

We left our resort around 9:00 that morning and were taken to Coba ruins. There were several structures in this area, including the one shown above that we were able to climb to the top. It's estimated that these structures were constructed between 50 BC and 100AD.

There was this really cool tunnel that was designed for air flow and mosquito control. And by "cool" I mean that standing in this little breezeway was a great way to cool down because the temperature was at least 10° less than outside of the tunnel. As we learned about the design of these structures, I was blown away at the ingenuity of the architecture. How did they know how to do that?

The Mayans were short people, yet their stairs were so tall. Man, even with my long legs it was a lot of work walking up these structures.

And there was this really cool tree...

I noticed this at the end of the day when I was flipping through my photos. Can you see a really large tree angel here? Her tall body, with arms stretched out to the Heavens, and there's even a little "face" carved in if you squint your eyes. I love her. ♥

One of the super cool perks of this day was that our tour guide had arranged for us to be bike-taxied in to the Coba structure. It was hot that day, and the walk through the jungle would have taken up a lot of our valuable time. The photo above is of Kat and me, with our bike taxi driver. We loved him.

Here's a shot of the roadway, with another bike taxi in front of us:

Gosh, the Mayan culture was brutal. This was a really interesting and also creepy-to-me thing to learn. See this slanted structure with that little ring at the top?

The structure was the playing field for the "game of the ball" and that rectangular shape and grid in the center was their record of scores. There was an identical structure just opposite of this one too - a side for each team. Players would work to get a ball (about the size and weight of a bowling ball) into that ring at the top - without using their hands! And! Guess what the winning team got as a prize? Their captain had the honor of being beheaded and sacrificed. Eeeeow.

There are rumors that this structure will be closed and that tourists will no longer be allowed to climb up the face of it within the next year or so. Here I am, taking a break (heat and really tall steps...), almost at the top of Coba.

Coming down was a little easier - we sat on our bottoms and came down that way, one tall step at a time.

I had a few loved ones comment, as I posted photos of myself during this week, that I looked so happy. Ah! I was so very happy. I was having the time of my life with sweet new friends, amazing adventures, and being far away from the typical responsibilities of my [all-in-all amazing] life.

This day, my mom's birthday, was packed with adventures and activities. I know she was smiling down on me all day long!

I'll share about more of my adventures from this day in my next post.

Thanks for tagging along with me!

♥

A foggy day schedule

I've been stuck in a bit of a writing slump these days so, on a whim, I searched the internet for writing prompts and found this list of 365 Creative Writing Prompts. One that stood out for me was prompt #22: Smoke, Fog, and Haze: write about not being able to see ahead of you.

Oh, fog...










I grew up in California's San Joaquin Valley - an area located inland from the west coast of the USA, rich with agriculture, canals and irrigation ditches. During the winter months, fog would roll in at night, blanketing everything in the early morning hours.

I remember looking out at the fog from our front window as kids, not being able to see past the front yard and fingers crossed for a "foggy day" schedule. On foggy school mornings, we'd tune in to a local AM radio station to listen for delayed bus schedules. If the fog was thick enough in our area, school buses were delayed by an hour or two to allow the fog to lift enough that driving conditions were safer. Even then, our bus driver was strict about having us wait on the church steps until she had come to a complete stop before we approached the bus. Visibility was that low.

As an adult I hated the fog. Actually, I only really hated driving in it. It's scary to be behind the wheel of a car and not be able to see past the front end of your vehicle! Driving was slow at best. My mom drove 45 minutes each way to work in foggy conditions every winter. I hated that for her - worried about her driving in the fog every winter! But hey, driving in the fog is not what ultimately claimed her, and cancer was something that had never crossed my mind for my mother. I totally worried about the wrong thing for her! ♥

And so it is with me, that the subject of fog presents itself in a writing prompt - the perfect metaphor at this point in my life. These days I feel as if my life is on a foggy day schedule; delayed just a little until I can see my path more clearly. The things I worry about on the path before me are most likely not even there. And like my mom, the fog will not be my ultimate demise. It's just there to provide a little buffer - a gentle reminder to be patient and not rush things.

There's nothing wrong with a little self-imposed foggy day schedule once in a while.

Besides, I've always been an excellent driver.

♥

It's September and I'm...

Sporting #TealToesForMarti ~ September is ovarian cancer awareness month, so we paint our toes teal in support of that cause, and also to remember my mom's fight against it. It's hard to believe it's been almost three years since her passing. I miss her every day.

Packing and purging and organizing for our upcoming move.

Planning what to do with our turtles at the new house.

Shopping online for new light fixtures, blinds, pull-out garbage cans, a sunflower doorbell cover...

Taking a chance with a whole new color scheme for the new house.

Dreaming of the great big mandala I plan to paint on a wall in my new yoga/craft space.

Reading anatomy books for yoga teacher training.

Practicing yoga more in my mind than on my mat. That's better than not at all, you know?

Breathing super deep and slow on a regular basis.

Preparing for my next yoga/mandala workshop scheduled for October 10th.

Looking forward to having the remodeling process behind us and settling into our new home.

Taking a week off from work to move at the end of this month. :o)

Asking you to join in support of ovarian cancer awareness this month by painting your toes teal. If you do that, and if you post a photo, please use the hashtag #tealtoesformarti so we can appreciate you.

I hope whatever you're doing in September turns out awesome for you!

♥

I wrote him a letter.

I wrote him a letter in February 2014, but didn’t actually send it until March 2015. I carried it with me for over a year, coming across it from time to time and reading my own words again, searching my heart for permission to mail the darn thing. When I finally put the stamp on it and put it in the outgoing mail, I did so with a bit of relief. I did so with a promise to myself that I would let it go from that point forward.

In the letter, I said what my heart felt – that losing Mom made me realize life is short. I feared that he would die believing he was unloved, and I wanted him to know that I loved him. I expected (and hoped for) no reply. I was ready to move forward and heal.

He wrote me a letter and it landed in my hands on Mother’s Day; his confused and broken heart revealed in the typed words that my stepmother had put on paper for him. His distorted view of a life of regrets, his self-justification in order to remain unaccountable, written for my eyes to read over and over again if I choose. I’ve read it thrice.

It was a brief reply, but it held for me unwritten memories of years of separation, years of uncertainty, years of abandonment. As I stood in our kitchen reading his words, my feelings rushed to the surface in a wave of emotion. Memories of hurt and hope and disappointment and longing rising up, my love and undeserving adoration for him crashing into the earth in one giant heap.

And there, at the bottom of the page was his signature. It was there almost as one final slap – his own handwriting under the lines of typed words scrawled out like a seal of conviction. Right there, for my eyes to see, he wrote his first name instead of writing “Dad.”

How unfortunate, yet fitting, that I would read his letter on Mother’s Day this year. His words unknowingly validating once again what an amazing mother she had been. How even in his absence and return and absence and return and absence, she persevered and was a parent like none other. She was our mom and our dad and our rock.

I drew this mandala for her on Mother’s Day.
And I drew this one for him in January.
♥

It's easy to remember

Today is the 73rd anniversary of my mom's birth.

♥

It's easy to think of the things we assume she's missing out on: new grandbabies and our ongoing accomplishments that she would have loved being a part of. But it's getting easier to imagine that she's still very much a part of things. I believe she's just enjoying things from a different vantage point.

It's easy to remember how much Mom loved her birthday! It's easy to remember how she loved everyone else's birthday too - making a fuss over the birthday girl/boy, baking cakes for her friend's birthday lunches, finding the perfect card and underlining words that she wanted you to know she really, really meant.

It's easy to look around and see her legacy - children, grands, and even great-grands now. It's easy to remember the love she had for us - she shared it willingly and unselfishly. We always knew we were loved!

It's easy to remember how she would rub her cheek after we'd plant a kiss there - rubbing it in so it would get to her heart just a little faster. How, when she was a little annoyed, all of her sentences began with, "Well! ..." And it's easy to remember little things about her that make us smile, sometimes shake our heads and mumble, "Oh, Mother."

It's hard to remember my mom's fight with cancer, but it's easy to remember how much she loved life. I miss my mom more than words can say, but I am also grateful beyond words for everything she stood for and the way she instilled those values in us.

So today we look to Heaven and thank our lucky stars for my mom, Marti. We'll wish her a happy birthday from maybe-not-as-far-away-as-we-imagine.

There's a party on Cloud 9 today - they're serving margaritas.

♥

Remembering my mom on October 9th.

Can you believe that today is the two-year anniversary of my mom's passing?

♥

The other night I had a sleepless night. I tossed and turned when the lights went out, trying to find a comfortable position but my mind was too busy to allow for that. Thoughts of my mom's passing swirled round and round. In my mind I replayed the five days leading up to her passing. I replayed our conversations, the medications administered, the cassette tape of old church hymns that my stepdad played during her final night - hauntingly familiar from my childhood and a bit unsettling to me, but hopefully of comfort to my mom. God, that was a long night.

I remembered the things we laughed about, the moments that brought tears, the horror of seeing her suffer, the smoke alarm in the hallway screaming just seconds after she passed, calling Doug to say she was gone, choosing flowers for her casket, stitching teal cancer ribbons to wear, writing a speech to give at her services, and feeling so lost and confused for how to proceed with my life without her on the planet to have my back.

I know that in time those memories will not sting so much. I know that I will never forget the details of her passing, but in the past two years since she's been gone I've been able to put into perspective the short amount of time that encompassed her illness and passing. The good times and happy memories far outweigh the painful ones!

For my readers who have been around for a while, you might remember that my mom commented on almost every single post I published. This blog has been such a blessing to me in so many ways, and with my mom's passing I've discovered a new one. The gift of my mom's time and her thoughtful comments continue to bless me anytime I poke around and read old blog posts. And how ironic that there were times when I felt a little embarrassed about her sappy sweet comments (oh, mother...) yet now I read them over and over and hang onto every word.

So today, two years after her passing, I'm paying tribute to her participation in blogland by sharing a few of her comments here in this post. She loved reading my blog, loved reading the comments of my generous blog friends, and loved the opportunity to add her two-cents worth.

And the very last comment she left on my blog, a few days before her passing:



Thanks for loving my blog so much, Mom,

and thanks for the sweet comments you always left for me.

I miss you more than I ever could have imagined I would.

♥

Team Teal Tuesday ~ What's in a name?

My mom disliked the name given to her at birth so much

that she  had it legally changed from Martha to Marti.

♥

When my mom was born, her parents thoughtfully named her Martha Ruth after both of her grandmothers. Martha was the name of her paternal grandmother, and Ruth was her maternal. I would say that for this reason alone her name should have felt sacred to her - those are strong, traditional, and beautiful names. But I suppose I might feel the same way given the fact that my two grandmothers are/were named Gertrude and Bessie. :o|

In a way I feel sad for my mom – sad that she felt like her name didn’t suit her, that maybe it didn’t sound young enough or hip enough at that time in her life. I don’t really know. All I know is that once my dad was gone for good, everyone started calling her Marti.

In high school she had been known as Marti - "Marti-with-an-i” - so I guess reverting back to that nickname helped her to reconnect with who she had been before - back before she was a young single mother with a whole lot of responsibilities to deal with. Back when she hadn’t had a care in the world and she was happy. Back when she was Marti-with-an-i.

As a young girl in school I wasn’t all that crazy about my name either. There were always two or three Debbie’s in every class, so I always had to be Debbie N. Always with the N. And I didn’t like Deborah back then because that name was only used if I was in trouble. Albeit rare. Cough. I was almost named Vickie. Can you imagine me as Vickie?

My sweet girl was named after her paternal-great-great-grandmother, Carrie, and her paternal grandmother, Rosalind. She has always loved her name and that makes me oh-so-happy.

So I wonder, do you like your given name? Is there a story behind your name or was it one that your parents just liked? Have you ever known someone who went so far as to have their given name legally changed?

I think in Heaven my mom is known as Marti.
Marti with an i.
♥

The Magic of Snail Mail

When my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in February 2011, I started sending her a piece of mail every week. I would send a notecard, a postcard, and sometimes a little trinket or food item. She was in California, and I'm in Arizona, so a little bit of snail mail every week helped bridge the gap in miles between us. That weekly mail meant so much to her.

And when I started sending mail to my mom, I included my grandma too. I could only imagine how hard it was for her to see her own daughter suffer, and since I was sending weekly mail to my mom it was easy enough to include an extra piece for Grandma.

Well, you know how this story unfolded; my mom lost her battle in October 2012, but I continued to send weekly mail to my grandma. I think she needed it more than ever after my mom was gone.

When we visited Grandma last weekend in California she had something to show me. She disappeared into her bedroom and came back with a bag perched on her walker. The bag contained dozens (and dozens) of envelopes and postcards - many of them from me, a few from my sweet Carrie, and others from some of my cousins. She saves them like they are valuable treasures, all of them so precious to her.

There's a space on our kitchen counter where I tuck little bits of mail that I want to save, and the stack has been growing over the past couple of months. This is partly thanks to Sian and her sweet idea to organize the Pile of Postcards Exchange over the summer, and partly due to the sweetness and generosity of my friends and family. Each of them represents a little piece of someone's time and thoughtfulness, and every one is special to me.

It seems that the art of a handwritten note is fading in a world of texting, emailing, Facebooking, and Tweeting. When is the last time you wrote a quick note, addressed it, and slapped a stamp on it? I'm encouraging you to do just that this month, just as Sian encouraged us over the summer.

Who can you reach out to via snail mail in the month of September?

Whose day will you brighten?

♥

An important message for September, and teal toes for Marti

My mom lost her battle with ovarian cancer in October 2012.

♥

September is ovarian cancer awareness month, and while I don't plan to make that the focus on my blog for this entire month, I do feel a sense of obligation to at least mention it on this, the first day of September.

#tealtoesforMarti

While Carrie and I were visiting our family in California this past weekend, we set aside some time to have pedicures. In honor of my mom, the nail polish we chose was teal, the color representing ovarian cancer.

Please take a few minutes to educate yourself about ovarian cancer and its symptoms. And if you are so inclined, we'd love to have you join us in remembering our mom/grandmother, Marti, with teal toes in September.

You can read more about my mom here.

Please use hashtag #TealToesForMarti on Instagram so we can appreciate you.

♥

The Juggling Gene

I remember it like it was yesterday…

We were all hanging out in the kitchen, and our mom was making dinner when my brother Ron announced that he had learned how to juggle. He proceeded to demonstrate and entertain us with three oranges pulled from the fruit bowl.

It was so fun to see him juggle! “Hey! How’d you learn to do that?!?!” the other siblings exclaimed as he reveled in the spotlight.

Then he had the bright idea to juggle eggs.

“Don’t you do it, Ronnie!” Mom called over her shoulder.

“Aw, it’s ok, Mom! I can do it! Watch…”

Three sibs watched in amazement as the eggs went round and round - all the while Mom was in the background saying, “Ronnie…put those down…Ronnieeeee…”

“Look, Mom!” he answered, “I’m doing it!”

Round and round went the eggs...

And then -splat!- just as Mom predicted, Ron missed one of the eggs he’d been juggling. And to make it an even bigger mess, the egg fell right onto one of the burners of the kitchen stove.

“You’re cleaning that up!” Mom said, and the four of us roared with laughter. Haha – our poor mother.

#15 - a juggler

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Years later when I had entered the corporate world, I attended a team building meeting with my coworkers. At the beginning of the day, we were each gifted with a pretty wooden box. Opening the box revealed three juggling balls inside, and then the assignment was announced. We would each learn how to juggle, and the requirement was that we had to toss and catch the balls at least five times in a row in order to move on. How hard could that be? Right?

Some of my coworkers caught on right away, and the team building part of the exercise was that those who mastered the art of juggling had to help the rest of the group that was still struggling.

Well, wouldn't you know, I was the very last person to finally toss and catch those freaking balls five times. I bent over and picked up juggling balls so many times that my muscles were so sore the following day I could barely walk. And I haven’t touched a juggling ball since!

Obviously, Ron got all the juggling genes.
♥ ♥ ♥






I know, it's kind of weird that the only photo I have of my brother juggling was in his hotel room while our families were together in San Diego, but it's the only one I took so I'm using it as item #15 for Rinda’s Summertime Photography Scavenger Hunt. We spent some time in my brother's hotel room while tending to this little peach, my four-month niece, Olivia. Here she is, watching her daddy juggle.  :o)♥

Simply a Team Teal Moment

I am in my birthday glory, riding in Carrie's backseat as she drives us to the restaurant where we will celebrate with a nice dinner. She and Doug chat away in the front seat as I happily open my birthday cards and packages in the back.

I have a package to open from a dear friend of my mom’s. Actually, now that my mom’s journey is done, I proudly call Judi my friend. She is a beloved soul and a sweet connection to my mom – something I am oh so grateful for. I tear open the padded envelope with excited anticipation and I pause for a moment to appreciate her pretty wrapping – beautiful pink tissue paper with a bright orange ribbon tied in a generous bow.

"Oooh! Look how pretty!” I say, holding it up for Doug and Carrie to see. Doug admires it in the way a boy admires things like that, but Carrie sternly reminds me that she can’t look right now.

I untie the orange ribbon and pull the pink tissue paper back to reveal an adorable apron. “Oh I love it!” I squeal as I lift it up, allowing the fabric to unfold and reveal the apron front. And then my eye catches a sweet little extra in the apron pocket – a handwritten recipe card tucked there, just like my mom always did when she gifted an apron – with a favorite recipe from Judi.

In this moment my mom is right here with me – a memory tucked inside an apron pocket from a thoughtful friend. Gosh, I love my birthday and the gifts of this wonderful life.

♥

As I link up with Alexa today for her monthly “Simply a Moment” meme, I’d like to express my gratitude to her. After a two-year run, this is the final installment for “Simply a Moment.” Thank you, Alexa, for hosting us and encouraging us to stop and notice our special moments. It’s been my pleasure to join you!

PS: I made the recipe that was written on Judi’s card, and I’ll be sharing that on my blog tomorrow.

A Quilt Square for my friend Deb

It's time for another Friendship Quilt update.

:o) ♥

I'm participating in Fiona's Friendship Quilt Project, and each month we create a quilt square to send to that month's designated recipient. May belongs to Deb{s14}.

I knew I wanted to create a strawberry quilt square at some point during this exchange, and when I saw that my friend Deb had requested the colors pink and green I knew she'd be the one to receive it.

My mom loved strawberries {her kitchen was decorated with them}, and Deb was a sweet member of Team Teal, so it felt even more right that she would receive this square. And! The best part? All of these fabrics came out of my mom's scraps!

I created strawberry and leaf shapes and traced around them on the back of fabric after I'd ironed on some fusible webbing. Here's a little tip if you use this fusible stuff - it's tough to peel from the edges without fraying your fabric a little, so I take a straight pin and scratch the surface in the center. That makes a nice little cut that you can work your fingers into and peel off from the center of the shape.

And speaking of fraying, I also use this handy stuff called Fray Check on the edges of my squares that I will be handling more than normal. I knew I wanted to do a little hand stitching on this piece, and I didn't want the edges to look frayed and tattered, so I added a little Fray Check to the sides to keep them neat and tidy. This stuff is also great for the ends of ribbons that tend to unravel.

I loved making this quilt square for Deb, and I know my mom would be so very pleased that I was able to use her fabrics to make it.

♥
{You can see other quilt squares I've made for this exchange by clicking here.}

Scrambled eggs and me

Thanks so much for your sweet and thoughtful comments on yesterday's post. Today I have another little story about the one and only time my mom ever forced me to eat something I didn't like. Ah, yes, something else I need to work on forgiving her for... {just kidding!}

We were staying at my aunt and uncle's house - I'm going to guess that I was about four years old - and my aunt had made scrambled eggs for breakfast. All I really remember is that everyone else had left the table and I couldn't be excused until I'd finished my scrambled eggs which, by that time, were cold and yucky. I sat there for what felt like an eternity...

For the longest time I couldn't even look at eggs, and I'm still not a huge fan. Don't even think about asking me to eat cold scrambled eggs now that I'm the boss of me! But I do like them hot out of the pan, the way Doug makes them with cheese mixed in, a dash of salt and lots of black pepper...some sliced avocados on the side if we've got 'em.

I don't remember ever forcing Carrie to eat something she didn't like, which may be the reason she grew up to be such a picky eater...I don't know...

Did your mom ever make you eat junk you didn't like?

And if so, did you learn to like it later on? 

♥

Someday, when I'm a mom...

Mother’s Day always finds me deep in thought about my role as a parent.

I know that over the course of Carrie's upbringing I did a lot of things right, but there are definitely things I would've/should've/could've done differently. There have been far too many times when I've lost my temper and said things I regret, and life mistakes I've made that Carrie was forced to bear witness to... Junk like that that's really silly to ruminate about at this point.

Thoughts of the way my mother parented us also flood my mind. I think about how the interactions between us played such an important role in the way I’ve parented my own daughter.

My mom and I went through some rocky times in our early years. I wasn’t a bad kid, really. I was a good student and was respectful to teachers and everyone I knew, but I could be really sassy with my mother. In hindsight I realize that in many ways we were so much alike that we were bound to butt heads, but the main issue was that she was going through a divorce at the age of 34, and I was along for the ride at the age of 15. What I needed at the time she was unequipped to provide, and I suppose she could have said the same about me.

I vowed that things would be different if I ever had a daughter of my own. And things were/are different for Carrie and me – but the fact of the matter is that everything was different for Carrie and me. Our mother/daughter relationship can’t really be compared because my mom had her own unique set of challenges and I had mine.

It might surprise you to know that my mom and I went through times when we didn’t speak to each other for a year or more at a time. In fact, we didn’t speak to each other for a couple of years when Carrie was between the ages of two and four. And just now, when I typed those words, I felt a pang of guilt and sorrow knowing how my mom must have longed for us during that time, yet she and I were both too stubborn to move past our own issues. We lost time that can never be regained.

I can’t say that my mom and I ever completely worked out our differences. I think the more accurate way to put it is that I set some boundaries and she learned not to cross them. I feel a little sad when I think of that – ashamed that maybe she walked on eggshells around me, fearing that a slip of her tongue could have potentially sent our relationship spiraling back to the days of being absent from each other.

When I think of my own shortcomings as a mom (and daughter) I am struck by my harsh judgments toward my own mother. How different things would have been if I hadn’t been so stubborn – how different if I had been more tolerant... All of the “what if’s” pile on top of each other in a big ugly heap, and now that she’s gone there are no do-over’s. And I wonder what kinds of things Carrie aspires to do differently someday, when she's a mom.

I’m a firm believer that everyone does the best they can with what they have to work with at any given time. Knowing that – believing that – makes it possible to find forgiveness for my mom and for myself. The love we had for each other could never be denied, but there were plenty of days when we rubbed each other the wrong way and needed to keep our distance. We were at peace with that many years before she left the planet, so it’s all good, but Mother’s Day gets me every time.

♥

Mother's Day Weekend

Good day, blog friends.

♥

If you live on a piece of the planet where Mother's Day was celebrated this past weekend, I hope you had a good one. And if you didn't celebrate Mother's Day, I hope there were other things that made you happy.

I loved Mother's Day this year! Carrie gave me the gift of her time, and that's always a favorite for me! We spent time together Saturday night, and then again yesterday for lunch and shopping.

My own sweet mom was on my mind a lot ~ I kept a candle burning for her, and my thoughts were of gratitude for the amazing example she set for my siblings and me.

And other than celebrating motherhood, there was a lot of this going on:

Our nephew, Cris, is graduating from ASU this week and the party is at our house! {yay!!!} I spent some time in my craft space on Saturday creating a banner and working on cupcake toppers. And of course, a party in these parts always includes cupcakes, so I geared up with baking supplies...

And since the party is at our house, there was some backyard preparation going on too. I repotted some flowers and spruced up a few existing plants and took a whole bunch of photos of flowers {totally un-party-related, but took them just the same...}.

Even though it's Monday morning there's a feeling of happy anticipation for this week! It's a short work week for us as we are taking Thursday and Friday off to celebrate with family in town.

I hope each of you have something to look forward to this week!

I'm off to make mine happen...

xoxox

♥

Just a Quote for Friday

"The older I get the more I see the power

of that young woman, my mother."

~ Sharon Olds
 

♥

Marti's Birthday ~ Team Teal Tuesday

 

I was trying to decide on a photo for today's post and I texted this one to Carrie. I had another one in mind, but she thought I should use this one because, "Grandma was so happy that morning." And that decided it. We had celebrated Mom's 70th birthday at a party the night before, but on this morning, we met for breakfast before heading back to Arizona. This was taken on Mom's birthday, two years ago today.

♥
Things I miss the most about my mom:

I miss the way my mom underlined words on greeting cards to emphasize their meaning. She never chose a card without the words saying exactly what she wanted them to say, and then she’d underline the words that meant the most to her. And many times she’d add exclamation marks on them too. !!! And always "xoxox" at the end.

I miss the way she called me her “May-bee” in my birthday card every year.

I miss being able to call her when I have cooking questions. Which is kind of silly because at this point in my life I kind of have the cooking gig down pat - plus there's Google - but it was nice to know I could call her if I needed to.

I miss making stuff for her! My mom was the biggest fan ever when it came to things handmade by me. I really miss having her around to create for.

I miss being able to mail stuff to my mom – cards, letters, her birthday or Mother’s Day package. I miss the phone call when she received it, telling me how much she loved what I had sent.

I miss the way I’d say, “Hi MomMEE” when she answered the phone, and the way she’d respond with “Hi DebBEE” every time I called. Doug says the tone of my voice would change when I talked to my mom on the phone.

I miss her telling me every detail about the conversation she had with the person sitting next to her on the plane once we’d retrieved her from the airport. No wait, I don’t really miss that part – but I do miss picking her up at the airport! ;o)

I miss taking her to her favorite Mexican restaurant every time she came to Arizona. {We're going there for dinner tonight.}

I miss free Avon products like my favorite eye-liner and Carrie's mascara.

I miss her calling to tell me the latest gossip from our hometown. She’d always start with, “Do you remember so-and-so?” and I'd say, “No, Mom, I don’t” and she’d say, “Oh, don’t you remember? She had the brother that was Tim’s age? They lived in that house at the end of the road where the Smith’s lived…” and I’d say, “No, Mom, I don’t remember,” and she’d say, “Well…” and tell me the gossip anyway.

I miss her feeling sorry for me when I’m sick, and having her tell me to gargle with salt water when I have a sore throat. I always said, “I know, Mom, I will…” and I never rarely did.

I miss my mom’s comments on my blog posts. So many times she’d leave these sweet and sappy comments and I’d cringe a little with embarrassment. Oh, mother… And now, sometimes, I go back and read old blog posts just so I can read my mom’s sweet comment. I miss having my mom read my blog.

I miss her quick wit, her honest opinions, her animated facial expressions, and her pumpkin bread at Christmas. Oh, this list could go on and on and on...

Today I thank Heaven for the path we walked together in this lifetime.
Happy heavenly birthday, Mom!
I love you and miss you so much!!!
♥

"Be still, close your eyes and breathe.

Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you."
~ "The Two of Us," Sheila Hancock

This week in my garden ~ and thoughts on apologizing for our art

"The expert in anything was once a beginner."
{author unknown}

♥

Lately I have been doing a lot of thinking about how we apologize and/or make excuses for our skills and compare them to others. Today I'd like to share an experience I had recently that made me stop and take notice.

I was thinking about my mom and how she could never put together a scrapbook (or any other handmade item) for me without a whole lot of fretting and apologizing because her pages (or whatever) were nothing like mine. Ugh - that used to drive me nuts! No amount of reassurance or gushing could help her get past that.

I recently had an opportunity to look through a scrapbook Mom made for us and I hope she was watching from up above and saw that I cried when I looked at it; that I held it close when I was done and felt so grateful that she’d taken the time to make that for us. {See, Mom? It was/is perfect!} Her scrapbook doesn’t look like something Ali Edwards put together but why would I want it to? I want it to look like my mom’s style – I want it to look exactly the way she made it.

I’m currently enrolled in an online sketchbook class and have really been put to the test when it comes to enjoying the process without comparing myself to others. I am a beginner when it comes to sketching still life, and oh-my-gosh you guys should see some of the amazing art that my classmates are posting! At the beginning of the class I cringed at the thought of posting any of my drawings in that forum. And when I did post a photo of my sketch, I felt the need to remind everyone that I was “just a beginner” and I made excuses for my art.

I have realized that this sketchbook class has bigger lessons for me than putting pen to paper. Perhaps the bigger lesson for me is the reminder that everyone starts somewhere – we are all at different skill levels based on our own personal experience, practice, talents, desire, and commitment. My drawings don’t look like anyone else’s because {hello!} they aren’t supposed to! If they looked like someone else’s they wouldn’t be mine.

 

So today’s post is just a little reminder to never apologize for what you’ve created. Create from your heart and soul and honor it because it’s part of you. Don’t dishonor it by pointing out your own perceived flaws or shortcomings. If you are giving that creation as a gift, the thing the recipient will appreciate the most is that it has your unique touch!

The best thing about your creations is the gift that
is you - flaws and shortcomings and love and all.
I say there's no need to ever apologize for that!
♥