6 Tips on How To Stop Cleaning Your House

Every Saturday, I mean EVERY Saturday.....housework came first.  It mattered not what I had planned for the day, or how much my friends wanted me to join them for a trip to the mall, Mother always said "After the housework is done, you can go out." End of conversation.

Mondays were reserved for doing the laundry.  Tuesdays were for ironing.  Wednesdays for baking. Thursdays for gardening. I don't remember what Fridays were for but..... SATURDAYS were for cleaning house.  This was usually a full day of work.

Dusting.  Sweeping.  Shaking (or beating) the big rugs outside.  Mopping the floors.  Spot washing the walls, window sills and whatever.  Scrubbing the bathroom.  Polishing the furniture. Polishing the silverware.  It's amazing I survived!

How Can You Leave Me? I Love You Too Much

"TAKE THAT BACK!"  I screamed to myself but it was too late to recant.  What was said, was said.  What's done is done.  I knew how much the words had hurt.  Why did I say them?  Why hadn't I bit my tongue?

It was autumn, my favorite time of year.  I don't appreciate the heat of summer so taking long hikes were reserved for summer's end.  My closest friend and I would often make a day of it.  I would pack a lunch and we would head up the mountain.  We were both a bit too old to walk that far, but would drive as far as we safely could and then hike a bit farther.

Waiting For Answers That Never Seem To Come

When I was younger I wrote a lot of poetry.  It was a way of expressing myself without anyone knowing I was talking about 'me.'    There are poems I often ponder from decades ago, but they still carry a punch.  I would like to share one here that I trust will encourage you.  Read it more than once - let it sink in:

ONLY WAIT

Oft there comes a gentle whisper o'er me stealing,

When my trials or my burdens seem too great,

Like the sweet voiced bells of evening softly pealing,

It is saying to my spirit "Only Wait."

Are Kids Angrier Than Before?

WHAT IS GOING ON?   Last week I posted what happened while I was traveling on a ferry.  I shared how, in the course of an hour, I witnessed three separate incidents of young children behaving badly, disrespectful and down right rude.  I was appalled.  That story is here. After reading that post, a friend of mine emailed me her story.  She witnessed these two events in less than a 24-hour period.  While reading them I kept saying out loud, "No!" and "I can't believe it!"  But it happened.  Just like she saw it and it makes me either want to throw up or cry; in other words, it makes me sick.

The Never Ending Wait in Line

Isn't it odd.... the things we remember?  Some of you will remember my day-long stressful experience at the post office that turned out to be hilarious.  Over 50 years ago, I read a poem and every single time I am in a post office -- I still think of it. It was written by one of my favorite poets, James Kavanaugh.  He wrote about life and love.  Most of his poems asked questions - which trigger thought.  I have enjoyed every single poem he has written and they obviously have made an impact. Some of his works dig deep but this is a lighter one.  Suffice it to say, next time you are in a post office, I bet you remember this poem:

The Post Office

I've never dealt with Russian commissars

Nor spent a single day in prison camps,

But I often meet the ghost of buried czars

When I try to buy a roll of eight-cent stamps.

Perfect Little Angels?

No one is perfect and no one has perfect kids.  We hope for the best and when they surprise us with respectful behavior, we are proud.  I never tolerated rude, obnoxious, disrespectful behavior from my children and am appalled at parents as they look the other way when their kids misbehave.

Recently I was in a restaurant and observed a mother with three young children sitting within earshot. It was quite obvious she was a single mom and her children were polite, quiet as well as courteous to the waitress.  As I was leaving, I approached the mom and apologized if she thought I may have been eavesdropping.  "I want to applaud you as a mom.  It was a pleasure to have dinner next to your family.  You should be very proud at how well behaved and polite your children are."  She agreed that she was very proud of them and thanked me for making her day.

Flattery? What's that?

Some tidbits to make you smile today


Flattery?  What's that?

What do you think of flattery?  Do you want to be with someone who constantly tells you how beautiful and intelligent you are?   Do you want that person to worship the ground you walk on?   I have known relationships like that and must admit, I am a bit envious.  Sometimes I will even work up the courage to ask my hubby, "What do you think?  Like it?"  The reply is usually an approving nod followed by "You look great!"  Why can't he just say that without me having to ask?

He loves my cooking and brags about it to other people so I am aware that he certainly can appreciate the finer things.  After forty plus years of marriage, I still love it when he notices something new or different about.......me.  I admit it; it feels good.  



So, imagine my surprise the other day when, OUT OF THE BLUE, he looked at me and said,

Regret and Fear are Twin Thieves

Many of us have read The Station by Robert J. Hastings at some point in our lives.  I have read it numerous times over the years.  It never gets old or dated.  It is always a fresh message.  It always bears repeating.  It is unadulterated truth.  Read it.  Think about it.  Pass it on.

Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision.  We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent.  We are traveling by train.  Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle gazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flat lands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.