Buoyed by yesterdays’s success of doing small, I was able to plant 3 more tomato plants with kosy coats. Now there’s 5 in a row. I feel pretty good and proud of myself for the deed. I can give myself another thumbs up. Let’s make it 5 👍👍👍👍👍. It’s not often that I give myself much credit. It’s not often that I’m conscious of what good feels like either. Now I know. It feels good to see the 5 red kosy coats in a row. The tomatoes love it, thriving already inside the warmth.
I love sitting in the sunroom facing the dining room and looking out the living room window. I see the trees framed by the bay window. There’s something about the afternoon sunlight on the green of the leaves that is so pleasing. I sit and savour the feeling goodness of it. I’m waking up and feeling the good vibes. It’s a good place to end the day.
I’m a great gatherer of information. I seldom put them to use. It’s no wonder that I’m stuck, finding myself in the same ruts, year after year. I mutter and moan the same old, same old. I set goals, I write about them but somehow the doing gets left behind. Here I am again, at my keyboard. This time, it is a little different. I am doing, using information gathered from B.J. Fogg’s Tiny Habits: The Small Changes that Change Everything. It’s working for me. Hooray!
I’m applying the idea of doing small to my gardening. I am struggling this year. I still have alot of tomato seedlings to plant and it is still cool. I have kosy coats for them but it is very labour intensive when you have to do dozens of them. So using Fogg’s example of flossing one tooth to establish his habit, I decided that I could just plant one tomato with a kosy coat. It didn’t feel so daunting when it is just one. It wasn’t hard and I ended up doing two. I felt pretty good after. I’m confident I could do it again tomorrow. Maybe I could do 4 tomatoes.
There’s nothing like success to make a person feel good. I like it. It helped me to seed another raised bed with more lettuce, spinach, Asian greens and radishes. I’m hoping successive seeding will keep us in salad greens all summer. I finished my day of gardening by spreading 4 bags of manure on 2 raised beds. Enough for one day. I am happy.
I’m hacking through the month of May, working on developing good habits and ridding bad ones. i’m feeling pretty good about my efforts and results. I have to give myself a thumbs up 👍 to celebrate. Did you know that what makes a habit stick is not repetition or amount of time spent on it? I didn’t. According to B.J. Fogg, author of Tiny Habits: The Small Changes that Changes Everything, emotions create habits. We want to create feelings to wire in the habits that we want in our lives. He found that celebration is the best way to create a positive feeling that wires in our new habits.
I haven’t been big on celebration. I’m not for fanfare. It’s a quirk in my personality. Maybe I feel I don’t deserve it or it could be I wasn’t brought up in such a fashion. All that stuff does make me uncomfortable. I’m learning I can celebrate on a smaller and quieter scale. Then I can gradually work it up to balloons and noise makers. A thumbs up is not a big deal and is very quiet. I like feeling good. I will keep a watch out for those feeling good vibes and build on them. It’s a good hack. Who doesn’t want an easier time?
Wanting an easier time, I’m keeping things small, simple and easy. I’m remembering to celebrate small victories. Tomorrow is another day.
A super grey cool day with drizzles. The drizzles are welcome, no matter how small. They’re much needed moisture. However, the grey and cool are not conducive for cheer and action. I am in a grey slump, not jumping up and down with excitement nor smiling with glee. I am feeling glum and being negative. There is no point in putting on a phony face. I do apologize for my negativity but I thought it is okay to feel not okay and face and accept what is here.
I am not a total ‘loser’ for lack of a better word. Though I feel lackluster, I am not inert. I still have a bit of life force in me. I’ve been reading Tiny Habits: The Small Changes That Change Everything by B.J. Fogg. It lit up a small spark in me on this dreary day. I’m already a fan of doing small and doing easy. This book is a great addition to what I have already learned from Atomic Habits.
Rainy days are good for falling asleep and not so good for for finishing posts/projects or for starting them as you can see. I’ve come back to finish what I started yesterday. This way I can honestly say I’m writing every day. Chocolate cake and a coffee does help to wake me up a bit. Writing on doing small and easy and tiny habits do push me to test out the idea of tiny. A bunch of tinys do add up. They have the potential of becoming something big. On difficult and/or rainy days when tasks look monumentally difficult, taking small bites works better than trying to tackle the whole thing.
It works for me. That is how I am getting through the days of this difficult year. Today, I’ve meditated and wrote my morning pages. Last night’s supper dishes and today’s breakfast dishes were done after breakfast. That’s how I start the morning. It starts me up. Then I cosy up with a cup of tea and some reading. We took my father out for lunch. It gets us all out of the house on a grey rainy day. It’s cheery to eat in a restaurant full of other diners. Dad gets a walk in the mall after. Takes his mind off his shingles. The pain is not too bad. He is on tylenol and can sleep and nap despite the discomfort. I feel I’m doing a good job as a daughter with short time spent.
The afternoon is peaceful. I seed a small pot of broccoli and another of brussels sprouts. They will germinate fairly quickly. Our spring is none too warm yet. I’ve painted my teacup for the #the100dayproject. I’ve bagged up some old clothes for the garbage. Then I’m out in the yard, pulling a few of those darned creeping bell flowers. After all the digging up I did last summer, they are creeping up again. I’m applying doing small and easy on them. I will see where that gets me. I’m going to learn how to live with them wisely. And that is not killing myself trying to obliterate them.
Some days I like to give up and give in to my desire to just sit and be. It feels like such a luxury and it is these days. Still I wish but wishes are horses even on a Sunday. Shortly after breakfast, I received a text from my sister saying that our father does not appear to have had a shingles vaccine. He has pain around his belly where he’s been scratching. His blood pressure is 200/100. Do I have time to help her take him to the mediclinic?
So off we went to the mediclinic – again. It’s been like that for us this past year. We are frequent flyers with our father since our mother’s passing. The good thing is that we don’t have to wait long since he’s over 90. We get in right away. He does have shingles even though he did get the vaccine in 2020. His blood pressure was down in the clinic. It was a quick trip. We were in and out with a prescription for antivirals and ointment for a few red spots and scratches on the side of his belly. The pain was not too bad, my father says. It felt like ants gnawing. I’m praying it will pass quickly and uneventfully.
We are fortunate to have our parents for so long, losing mom just last year. There’s a price. Their health fragile in these late years, requiring many medical appointments. It seems so difficult to have long periods of peace nowadays. I do hate when the phone rings. I’ve reconciled myself to that’s what life is now. Accept and proceed day by day and do the best I can. I can do that.
I wonder when the sun will come out again. Will it rain again? Our earth is very dry and thirsty. It’s hard to be hopeful in today’s climate. I envy the toddlers toddling about, laughing and jabbering, impervious to the clouds and the cool. When did we lose this ability? Can we get it back? And how do we go about it, if we can?
I am not holding my breath, waiting for answers. I’m feeling a little stuck again. I don’t want to stay there. I do the dishes. I warm up our lunch. We eat. I do the dishes again. I hang up the laundry. I potted up the snowpeas I’ve germinated for the community garden – all 100 of them. While they continue their germination journey in the potting soil, I will gather my strength and plan how to plant our plot for its best and possible last year there. It’s time to do a little downsizing for our advancing years.
Downsizing is no small thing. It’s a big challenge. When I was young, the house and yard were never too big even though there was only one of me. Now that there are 2 of us, it’s enough. I am older and not craving more of everything. We could do with less. It would mean less space to clean and less space to collect stuff we don’t need. We have what we have in space but we don’t have to keep all the stuff.
Ridding what we don’t need is not an easy thing. It is a slow process for me but I did start today with some of my mother’s stuff. The thing to do is not to handle, examine too much. Bag them up quickly with no hesitation. Otherwise, memories and attachment form. I almost hung on to 2 pairs of mom’s shoes by trying them on. They fit and look almost new. Then I remember I already have too many shoes. I quickly put them back in the box and into the bag with her 2 purses.
It’s another day or what is left of it. I feel as if I’ve lost and squandered most of today. I did not meditate nor journal this morning. Instead I was scrolling through the many shared Jan Arden’s video on Alberta’s want to separate from Canada. The many comments slamming Jan was not good for my spirit. It coloured my day and did not help my already tired body and soul.
I am afraid I was a sad sack though I try not to show or dwell on it. I pushed through it with physical activity. Now I’m trying to be kind to myself. Chocolate cake does help. I remind myself that I am just a human being, flawed and complaining all the while. It’s hard to suffer in silence.
Another cloudy and windy day. On top of that there’s smoke from forest fires in Manitoba. It’s easy to feel anxious and uneasy. Life goes on. Still no rain. I take a tylenol and sip my coffee. The thing about having a greenhouse is you have to tend it whether you feel like it or not. The lettuce and spinach are going great guns. I harvest some for a friend. The snowpeas are pea-ing but not quite ready yet. I watered the seedlings still waiting to be planted out. Chores keep me moving out of my morose mood and thoughts.
I am not in the best of forms. I won’t for a long while yet but I can strive to do my best even on my worse days. The earth continues to turn on its axis, the sun still rises in the east and set in the west. I must do my part of putting one foot in front of the other and be with what is. That is the way for me to move forward. So I take deep breaths, sip my coffee/tea, tap on the keyboard and sigh alot. I step out the door into the world. I have to keep up or I shall be left behind. I get lost. I keep going and I found my way after awhile.
Another day is almost done. I haven’t drawn my teacup yet. I’ve spent time with friends in the morning. In the afternoon my sister and I took our father to the Berry Barn for coffee. The weather was not the best but we made the best of it. We wandered through the greenhouse before heading to the Barn for coffee and Saskatoon berry pie. It was a wonderful day and afternoon outing despite the weather and inspite of my mood.
A cloudy afternoon. It’s not very uplifting. I’m drowsy, wanting to shut my eyes to the world. I don’t. I sip my coffee, I tap a few words and I sip some more. I think chocolate cake might be good now. The trouble is we ate the last of it yesterday. I have to think of something else to lift me up. I wonder why I’m such a sad sack, always searching for happiness.
Why is it so elusive? Am I searching in all the wrong places? Do I even know what it is? How will I know when I find it? I’m sure they are age-old questions with no answers. Still, it is good to voice them even if it is just to trick my brain into work. I finish my coffee. I get up and sweep the kitchen floor. So much dust and food crumbs every day! Too bad there’s no such thing as self-sweeping floors. Then what will we do with ourselves?
I pick myself up and dust myself off. Time to go and see my father. He is alone and lonely without my mother. I zipped onto his driveway and let myself into the house. I announced that we are going to Market Mall. I have a few things to pick up at Freshco. I load the wheelchair in the trunk, helped him with the seat belt and off we went. We cruise the aisles of the grocery store. My father bought 2 tomatoes. I bought a couple of snack food. We cruised the mall, my father pushing the wheelchair for support. We finished with coffee. The vendor was a bit annoyed that I use a credit card for $2.50. It’s easy. No fumbling around for change.
On the way back, I stopped in our back alley to show him my live in’s boat. Dad surprised us by climbing up with a bit of help to check out everything. He was impressed with the cabin, that it had everything in it. I was worried about how he was going to get down. He surprised me again by doing it. He will be 94 in July. He did say that it was his first and last time on the boat. He said his legs were shaking so badly. But he was laughing, looking excited and happy. I am, too, seeing him thus.
The clouds and wind are playing havoc on my well-being. They are not helping me in getting on with the day. I can’t afford to lose energy that I don’t have to my moods. I took a tylenol and am pulling up my socks. I feel limp but I can put one foot in front of the other. I can still move all body parts. I do the dishes. I soak some snowpea seeds to plant in the community garden. I paint a teacup and posted it on Instagram.
I make a cup of chrysanthemum tea. I take a sip and close my eyes, relaxing and smoothing out the space in my forehead. I take a few deep breaths in and then out slowly, focusing on the word joy. I let go of trying to control my body. I let it be how it is and rested. It’s true a rest is as good as a change. I’m feeling much better, having taking time off from trying to feel better. Sometimes I get too focused on things and I stall instead of flow.
I haven’t saved the day but I haven’t lost it either. I haven’t planted any more garden or pot up more seedlings. However, I have watered them. I’ve checked my lilies for scarlet lily beetles and dusted them with diatomaceous earth as well as dusting the earth around the lilies. So far that is helpful. I’m slowly learning that I am a person who can do smalls only. I am incapable of being a cyclone. I don’t have that kind of energy. My smalls do add up.
I hate the feeling of dread, of putting off things I should be doing or should have done. I can’t really identify what it is that I’m putting off. I don’t want to either. I would have to do it then, wouldn’t I. So I rather sit with this discomfort, this dread till it passes somehow. I wash the breakfast dishes, sweeps the dust off the floor and now here I am, at the keyboard.
Thoughts are not flowing. The words are hard to come by. I feel languid. I feel limp. My iMac freezes again and I’m on my laptop. My second cup of tea is almost finished. I’m using tea to fill in the gaps like I used to use cigarettes. At least it has no bad side effects except increased trips to the bathroom. I’m restless. I move to the deck and repotted some tomato seedlings. I’m not sitting stuck.
I cut some tulips and elephant ear blooms from my flowerbed to take to mom’s grave this afternoon. I put them in water and stuck them in the cooler to keep fresh. I head out to London Drugs to get a bath mat for my father. While there, I also got a new pair of sunglasses. I made sure that the bottom of the lenses does not touch my face, leaving their mark long after taking them off. The next stop, The Asian Market for incense sticks and josh paper. Not sure whether we will use them but I will have them. The last stop was to get a potted geranium for mom. It will last a while longer than the tulips. Mom loved flowers.
That was yesterday. Another year. Another Mother’s Day. Now it’s a reminder that my mother is no longer here, a reminder that it’s the day before that she fell and broke her hip and the downward spiral to her final resting place 5 months later. I suppose I am grieving, not only for her but for all of life. I have had more than a few regrets, of roads not taken. I have to live with it all somehow, someway. I am no Frank Sinatra. I didn’t do it my way.
onethousandandtwo 