Perfectly Imperfect Day

The view from our hike to Box Elder (it was wicked hard, but GORGEOUS . . . and we got to see it a lot because we kept having to stop and catch our breath)

First off, who did a little movie/show watching on Tuesday at 1pm?

Oh, yeah, I did. With little Henry on my lap, and it was some baby show I cannot pronounce . . . but he loved it and I got to relax for a minute so I count that as a win win. And it was fruit snacks and goldfish instead of apples and popcorn, but again . . . we were all happy, so that's a win.

Today was such a good day.

No for reals, there is no filter, it was this breathtaking (literally)

I woke up before my alarm (darn bladder), but didn't get too frustrated.

We ran in the dark and despite the endless stream of cars blinding us with their lights, I was able to run without pain or wonky stride so being blinded was NOTHING.

My German pancakes, which have been big flops lately, came out PERFECTLY--fluffy, light, crisp on the edges and brown underneath. The kids and John devoured them.

Box Elder . . . we will summit you one day . . .

I got ready for my hike with friends without freaking out (regular occurrence when I have to get the kids out the door AND myself at the same time), and was out the door with everything I needed on time (never happens usually).

Even though we didn't summit (that's going to be a loooonnnngggg day), we got to the saddle and got to enjoy one of the most gorgeous days/views ever. Plus, honestly, my heart and lungs got WORKED (big time).

I got home and there was left over dinner from last night so I didn't have to make anything for lunch. I could just lay on my front porch in the sun and eat without having to move pretty much at all.

Then, I got to shower BEFORE the kids came home. They were happy. I was happy.

I got to shop online (even though what I was really trying to do was type up a list I needed to get to my YW president . . . and I didn't--sorry) and found some shoes I want to buy (when I strike it rich).

I forgot I had to bring Piper to gymnastics (remembered in time) and thanks to it being close to Target, got my one of my returns. The second return, after being stuck in traffic for 30 minutes, I gave up on. I decided to treat myself, and just go right on home and not bother with the return. The store will still be there tomorrow . . .

And for dinner, we had tomato soup from Costco (kids and John were not fans, but I loved it) and grilled cheese. Hallelujah for easy five minutes meals.

After dinner, while we were cleaning up, John and I had a "discussion" about a stupid little thing. Finn was wise and high tailed it out of there (shower! I am taking a shower!) as our discussion grew heated. When the heat passed and the apologies rolled in, I thought for about six seconds about pride and fair and hurt and rightness and then promptly threw it all away. Because, at the end of the day, love, if we let it, trumps everything. And just like that, warmth and laughter and happiness returns.

In each of these great things that happened today, there was a moment were I had to chance to get frustrated and mad and let it get in the way of enjoying a perfectly imperfect day.

Wouldn't that have been a bit of a waste?

I keep thinking about how many days I've spent holding on to the frustration . . . and how much joy and happiness I missed.

Note to self, let it go. Choose the good parts. Forget the bad. Remember this, and my life, all our lives, are waaaaaayyyyyy better.

Yeah . . . this is the gorgeous meadow you reach after your heart and lungs about burst . . . and yes, I did twirl and sing (very quietly) "The hills are alive . . . with the sound of muuuussssiiiic! My heart wants to sing every song there is . . . "
And then I stopped because the hunters behind me (can't see them but they're sitting behind in beach chairs with massive scopes) were, I'm pretty sure, convinced the altitude had gotten to me (and maybe it had . . . but when you get to a Julie Andrews Meadow, you GOT TO SING!).

Forced Frugality

We are going on ten months of looking for a job. Last September, after a rather horrid ten months, John got the boot. It was oddly and rather unfairly done, but a great relief to all of us. Working at that company had become a puzzle that grew harder and harder each day until it was in fact, impossible. The stress of it took a wild toll on John's mental and physical health. By the end, he was neither eating nor sleeping. He had strange episodes of racing heart and an inability to tell what was real and what was imagined. I sat him down and told him I would use up every penny of our retirement and sell the house if it meant he could stop working in that environment. And it may take all that. And I still won't regret it. When I feel rather sorry for myself, I remember what life was like for him a year ago and then I don't feel sad that I am once again digging through my closet to find a new way to wear old things. In fact, there is part of me (small though it

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It's been a year. I'll sum it up by saying that food no longer tastes good to me. The last time that happened, I had lost three pregnancies in a row and John had lost and found a job and we had moved three times. The feeling is very similar. There have a been a lot of losses or near losses. Enough that when the phone pings with a text or vibrates with a call (I long ago turned off the ringer), I take a deep breath and think, you can do this . More times than not, I need that deep breath. I am probably in the second half of my life and I feel it. 47. My children are nearly grown. My house is established. Our bank accounts don't fluctuate like they used to. I don't go to the store and dream of being able to buy things. I walk into my closet and wonder what I can do without. I feel the finality of my existence and I wonder . . . what do I really want out of all this? For book club, we read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years . It's about re-writing o

The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

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