Puzzle Pieces

Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?

Winnie the Pooh

When you were a kid, lying under a tree or while cuddled under a warm blanket, did you envision yourself as a grownup? In my Midlife Jobhunter quest to discover what I'd like to be, I've returned often to what my thoughts may have been when I was ten. I mention 10 as somewhere I read - I think in Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach - that we are the closest to our authentic self when we are 10 years old.

Ten. Oh, to summon back the youthful vision of ten.

When I completed Breathnach's year long study many years ago, I discovered a long forgotten photo of myself -- at 10. Sure luck as I don't have many photos of my youth. But, alas, from a book my oldest brother had gathered for me, I discovered a picture in front of a birthday cake -- a smile on my face and 10 candles ready to blow. I studied the face of that child, excited about life, unaware of what might lie ahead, and tried to recall her dreams, desires, and hopes.

I'm sure at the time I journeyed through Simple Abundance, I also journaled my recollections. But life, once again, segued me off in another direction.That journal is now buried in a box in the attic and I have no desire to dig around up there. I must begin anew.

Sitting on my porch this morning, accompanied by the morning glories that burst open today,

I recall I liked to explore, albeit with trepidation. I was neither the one with the most guts, nor the most fear. I would climb the trees and ride the neighbor's horse, but always with a tug of angst in my chest. I wasn't fond of getting hurt. But I never minded following a new trail in the forest. I had a good sense of direction and the ability to remember where I came from. I could always find my way back.

I know I wanted to see the world. In middle school, we had assemblies in the auditorium. We saw movies of far away places, different cultures, adventures. My family didn't venture far - a week at the lake in summer and a four day trip to Chicago in the fall. Sunday car rides offered a view of life surrounding our small corner of southern Minnesota - the cornfields flying by, interrupted by the cows walking home or a railroad track with a train due. As my older brother was drilled on his math facts or the parts of speech, I sat in silence, watching the heart and soul in the countryside glide by outside the window. I dreamed.

My mother always talked of visiting Paris so from an early age I knew another world existed. Her father left her a $1000 life insurance policy when he died. She planned to take that money and go to Paris someday. Then more kids were born and life took over and many years passed, the $1000 depleted. But in my head, a world beyond the gridded sections of Minnesota countryside existed. Paris, New York City, the Pacific Ocean.

What does this have to do with my authentic self and what I want to be when I grow up? Hell if I know. Trying to piece it together, I guess. And today, you are my listeners as I sort things out.

Sorting. Always seem to be sorting. Laundry, thoughts, me.

Random Kindness Appreciated

Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.

Henry Ward Beecher

Yesterday brought a most unusual day for several reasons. First, awoke to rain and cool temperatures of 58. Sixty-eight days of 100+ degree heat accompanied by a drought, found me dredging through the closet for a pair of pants that might fit my summer body.

Instead of biting my lip when looking out my windows at a scorched lawn and wilting garden, beautiful green met my gaze. My new tomato plants reached higher just overnight.

Happy to find my husband had replaced my windshield wipers, I drove over to pick up a friend I hadn't seen in a while. Time seems to get away from me and I had thought of her often. A few weeks prior she had dropped her daughter off at college and now with both children gone, I wondered how she fared in a house void of children.

She chose a restaurant downtown and we ordered a glass of wine. Greeted by a menu of delectable comfort food, I ordered something I never do, nor particularly like. Macaroni and Cheese. This, however, was Green Chili Macaroni and Cheese delivered in a very large bowl. Incredibly good. Mouth watering good. Don't let me take another bite good. Great perk also - large enough portion for a take home dinner for husband and son.

Where is this going, you say? Just the usual, fervid conversation as we caught up on the past month only stopping to take in a bite or a sip of wine. The waiter came to ask if we wanted dessert. We passed. (I was giving up swimming a mile at the Y to lunch the afternoon away. Couldn't further compromise myself by eating dessert.)

She then informed us that our lunch had been taken care of. That no bill would come our way.

What? Was I in the movies? How could this be?

"Who?" we asked.

"I can only say someone in this room."

Having been so engaged in conversation, we never noticed anyone at other tables and we glanced around the room, seeking who we knew. I knew no one. I looked at Lisa. She didn't know anyone either.

A kind soul? An admirer? We'll never know. Most fun.

I will have to return that fun with gratitude for someone else one day soon. A kindness I never would have considered until I experienced it myself. I'm thinking that will be more thrilling than having received it. Gratitude appreciated.

Also, random kindness arrived in the form the following two awards. From ds at the beautiful third-storey window I have been granted the Zombie Chicken award. Please visit her site. Truly lovely. ds, I'm so glad I found your site.

"The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken-- excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words.



And from Missy at Missy's Book Nook, the Dragon's Loyalty Award. I find it most easy to loyally follow her blog. Who can resist a book lover? Visit and read her book reviews. Authors - she also will review your book. I thank you, Missy.



The morning glories featured here were another lovely surprise. They sprang up during the late spring from seeds in a pot I had planted last year. All summer at the lake, I kept them watered in hopes they'd bloom. The week I was in Green Bay, I figured they would die without my touch, but returned to find them most beautiful. One never knows.