I stand on the brink of another year and once again contemplate all the ways I could improve myself. And I once again reflect on all the plans of the past year that were enthusiastically begun but fell by the wayside, or deliberately abandoned, or just never got past being thought about. And I could, as in years past, berate myself for the many ways I failed to follow through. But, I choose not to.

Instead, I will remember 2018 --my first year being "officially retired"-- as the year I lost my dad, some special friends, and neighbors. It was also a year that revealed while I may not control how life unfolds, I can choose how I perceive and respond. I had chosen perspective as my 2018 guiding word, and it was appropriate. Even in the midst of grief, my world view broadened, I made a major decision, and I welcomed a new BFF into my circle of special friends. I also developed a bond with my mom that probably wouldn't have happened otherwise; together we figured out how to navigate through her first months of widowhood, and in the process, we both grew to understand and appreciate each other as the women we are beyond just mother/daughter. I couldn't plan that.

My 2019 word choice announced itself recently during the brief moments between being asleep and fully awake: content. It's an interesting word because it fits into three parts of speech (which appeals to the grammar nerd in me) and has two unrelated meanings. Pronounced con-TENT, it relates to satisfaction; pronounced CON-tent, it relates to all the elements that combine to make something. I like both meanings, and I think both are relevant to personal goal-setting. 
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​This year, I would like to add some skill sets to my CONtent - learn enough Spanish to communicate basics, learn elementary keyboard, (re)learn crocheting. I'd also like to loosen the grip of my lifelong nemesis Procrastination, and develop the habit of moderating my voice (which gets whiny) when I'm annoyed.

​Decades of making resolutions - officially or not - has taught me likelihood of success declines dramatically after the first week of January, so this year I've invested in a paper planner. It has a vision board. Goals-setting pages. Focus tips. And, of course, monthly and weekly calendar pages. My go-to e-calendar doesn't give me all that, but the idea of another thing to keep up with is a bit daunting. I'll just blame my artistically-inclined sister if this idea fails me, as she gave me a book of colorful stickers which inspired the idea.

Happily, in most areas of my life, I am already conTENT, which may be an obstacle to successfully growing my personal CONtents. Perhaps a bit of DIScontent will be necessary. Hmmm...

​While I do succumb to the tempting distractions mentioned, they’re not the sum total of what I do these days. I spend lots of time with my mom who is grieving the loss of the man she was married to for 70 years. As the only one of her offspring living nearby, I am her chauffeur, consoler, encourager, entertainment-provider, business adviser, personal assistant, and sometimes biggest source of irritation. Her transition into widowhood is redefining our roles in each other’s life; I am needing to find different ways to navigate our relationship, particularly in regard to how I respond to differences of opinion.

One frequent source of conflict between us is her desire to have something done as soon as she articulates it, and my desire to do things when it’s convenient for me. For example, she says, “I baked some cookies and there’s a bag on the counter for you.” I might respond, “I’ll pick them up this afternoon.” She gets irritated because what she really meant was “I baked some cookies and I’d like you take the bag on the counter with you now” and what I really meant was “I’m not finished my exercise walk (or whatever) and I’ll come back to get them when I’m done.” Stupid conversations like this are now dangerous; she’s already on an emotional roller coaster and it’s my job to protect her to the degree I am able. So I am making the effort to take action immediately – without rolling my eyes – when she makes a comment or “suggestion.” An unexpected benefit of changing my behavior pattern in this situation is that I’m feeling the urge to apply the change to other parts of my life. ​

And so I am about to say yet another good-bye: for nearly five years, I’ve invested untold hours and the bulk of my creative juices into a Facebook page featuring my Corgi furkids. Through that project I’ve communicated with people from around the world, developed social media and photo-enhancement skills, helped with fund-raisers, advocated for rescues, laughed and cried with other pet owners, and even made a few friendships that have crossed into my non-FB world. It’s been a venture of the heart. It’s time, though, to let it go. In the upcoming days, my Corgis will let their friends and followers know they are closing down their page. And then it will go dark. ​
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​I hope the result of this difficult decision will be more time and a renewed surge of creative energy that can be focused on different endeavors, some of those things I said I’d do “when I retired.” My heart grieves the losses of my friends and Dad, but I cherish what I learned from each of them and how they made my life much richer. I expect I will be able to say the same about this good-bye, too. ​

#good-byegirl   #corgicharacters  #newventures

Some years back, it became a thing to choose a word for the year. I liked the idea, so several years ago, after angsting over which word might best suit me, I chose one. Not long into the year I realized I had no idea what to do with it. So I did what I often do: nothing.

The following year, I tried again. I did a bit better with that one; it inspired a few activities that I followed through on, but it was more of a word-for-a-few-months than a word for the year.

Not quite ready to give up on the whole idea, last year I chose yet another word: grace. It was the right word at the right time, and its threads wove themselves throughout my 2017. Our Sunday school class did a study on grace; I read books with the word grace in their titles. I gave it to others. I gave it to myself. I received it (over and over and over again!) I feel I ended the year a better person because I am so much more mindful of the grace and gracefulness that inhabits my world. And I now understand how a word can help shape the direction I travel.

So what word sets the stage for my 2018? Amazingly, I did not have to even ponder what this year's word would be. When I found out a class I've been wanting to take - one which I had been willing to travel 2-hours round trip on Saturday mornings to attend - will be offered three minutes away on Thursday evenings this semester, my word became clear: PERSPECTIVES.  

Although the word is both the title of the class and name of the organization behind it, the relevance of the timing is undeniable. Having just become officially retired, I am standing on the brink of possibilities and options. I can coast along and become an older version of the same old me, or I can choose to look at my life and the world I live in from different angles. A friend recently commented my new life status is "refired" and "funemployed." I liked her perspectives. There's no doubt it's my new perfect word. ​ 

​#newdirections, #perspectives, #refired 

​My reuse/repurpose heart cannot bear to toss perfectly usable bottles and jars. Never mind that I have no place to store them, that I’ll never make seasoned oils in those with elegant long necks, that I have scores of other containers for storing/
​sharing leftovers. If it’s washable and has potential for shaking, gifting, or storing, I save it.
 
To my credit, I have all the lids. And my environmentally-minded intentions are good. But do I really need proof of how much gelato I consume? And don’t all those jars pleading to be filled with something homemade make me feel more than a bit guilty?

Fully aware I’ll need some of them someday for something, I’ve opted to reduce – which goes well with reuse and repurpose. Canning jars and corked bottles have moved to the donation pile, others to the recycle bin. The remaining 19 (of 46) are safe.

​For now.
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