While there...take in the views

It's funny (odd) to me that I don't enjoy my farm more.  Sometimes, days, weeks, months pass by, and I never venture out and take in the sights and views from our place.  One thing this getting up early and going to do the chores has done, is made me wander around and enjoy the views.  We have a magnificent one, I must say.  I'm also finding lots and lots of things that need to be done...but on this particular day, it was all about the views.

Busy filling the buckets with feed, throwing it out in the feedbunks and chatting it up with my "boys", I haven't really stopped and just taken it all in.  But, the other day I did, and looking out over the feed lot, to the south pond and beyond was so uplifting and refreshing.  I.must.do.often.

Early morning has always been my favorite and I've
just gotten out of the habit of getting up and getting my day started.  I haven't needed to be up and out the door at any given time on most days.  I'm working on changing that, though.  Trying to get my body clock back to the way it used to be.  I'm up early on most days, just not ready to go anywhere...I want to clarify that.

On that particular morning, about 8:30, this is the view from one vantage point on our farm.  It's lovely, don't you think...even in the dull, gray, quiet of the lingering winter  Wide open spaces and views for miles.  Ahhhhhhh!  My lungs filled with crisp, freshness.  My breath crystalized in mid~air.  There was an awakening to my senses.  An awakening in my soul; and I just breathed...

Gotta love the men in my life...

Here they are...all 61 of them.  Cute, aren't they?  We've been along just fine for the most part...however,  the mud and muck got a little overwhelming for me the other day.  Going from feed bunk to feed bunk proved to be quite a task, as it was like quick sand and my boots were getting stuck.  I fell!  Yes, in the mud and muck (aka poop). Luckily, not face first and only on my knees.  BUT, it scared the muck right out of me...I was up in no time, hollering at the calves to scare them off so as not to trample me.  They are hungry come feeding time with only one thing on their mind and nothing, not even me, the feeder of their food, would stand in their way.


After that, I decided something would have to change, so I called Tanner, my son, and asked him to come on the weekend and help me move the feed bunks around.  Remember, my hubby has hurt his back, so I'm the 'FARMER' in charge.  He said, YES! without hesitation.

I love the men in my life...I especially love the two legged ones.  These past few weeks have proven what a blessing they are to me...to us.  Our daughter, Courtney, married a farm-boy, too, and without Chad, I don't know what we would've done the day the calves came here.  Then, he graciously supplied us with a load of wood for our woodburner.  I love him.  He's my comedy relief, he's the keeper of my daughter, he's the keeper of us, when we need him.  I love him!

Tanner...he's my first love.  He's my one and only son and he's the best.  When he was a little guy and into his teen year's, I always got a sense that my hubby, his stepdad, was competition for him...in taking care of his mom.  After all, it was pretty much he, his sister and I for several years.  He was the "man of the house".  I've felt that again these past few weeks.  Not the competition, that's long subsided (I think) but that it was his role to take care of his mom.  He makes me want to cry...I love him so!  AND, he gave me my first grandchild...now, that takes the cake! 

One never really knows how they did raising kids until after they are grown.  I think to myself, as I sit here writing this, I did okay...his step dad and I did okay.

I'm a GLAMOUR fashion "don't"...chore time fashion

As I was putting on my clothes...(my getup) to go out and do the chores, I was quickly reminded of a time, quite a few years ago, when I wore another "getup" to my guests amazement. 

On the acreage we originally lived at, there were 9 cres in CRP and running right next to it were another 9 acres that my hubs had row cropped.  This made a perfect scenario for evaluating the effect of land being set aside for a period of time vs. land that had been worked for the same period.

On this particular day, a few employees from an agriculture business came out to prepare the ground and do their study. 

At that time, there was not a restaurant in town for them to go eat lunch, so I thought I would go out and invite them in to eat.  It was a hot, hot August day...and, my hay fever was in full swing.  Oftentimes, when it was really bad and I had to go outside, I'd wear a mask.  It helped tremendously, so I put it on, along with my shorts and rubber boots and headed out to do the inviting.  I fully intended to explain "why" I had the mask on, so they'd understand the reason for it.

For the study, the group had dug a six foot trench, and were down in it.  As I approached, I could see their heads bobbing up and down and unbeknownst to them, I was making my way out to them.  As I got closer, they could hear my boots squeak and squawk as I walked.  As I looked up, I realized they had, too, and I've often giggled over the looks on their faces.  What a sight I must have been.  A Glamour fashion "don't".  After making fun at my "look", they quickly accepted my lunch invitation; nice conversation ensued over lunch. 

As my photo shows, I don't have the regular "farm girl" gear.  I hate being confined in coveralls, my winter coats are too nice to wear out in slop.  AND, these days, I get way too hot, so, I dressed in whatever was at hand, that didn't matter if it got dirty, wasn't confining and was layered. Thus, the "getup" shown above. 

It's all about fashion...and this was another Glamour fashion "don't"  However, I'm perfectly clear on the fact that the cows don't care!

61 calves, a semi, a John Deere tractor and a super rainy, muddy day...let the fun begin!

Well, day one~first feeding down and all is well on the farm front. 

Steve, my hubs, hurt his back again(the first time was Jan. '07) and so, the past few weeks have been an adventure, again!  He went horizontal.  Not able to sit or stand for two weeks, right leg affected, a trip to the ER, with a two day stint in the hospital have been part of the ordeal.  He finally ruptured the disc, where before, it was just "bulging." Doing much better after an epidural in the back, he was finally able to go back to work, and all was well!

We normally get calves at the first of the year.  Not quite ready for them at that time, we knew it was getting a little late and now the back problem.  Well...we had to get them bought, so, the call went out to his buyer.  Our son came over and helped me finish getting the lot ready; our son-in-law said he'd come and help me, too. 

So, the call came in and the cows, 61 of them, would be delivered on Tuesday.  Perfect, (son-in-law Chad has Tuesdays off) ...except for it has been pretty warm, so the frost was coming out of the ground, topped off with a rainy, rainy day.  Hmmmm?  Would the semi be able to make it down the half mile lane to the lot?  THAT WAS THE QUESTION...THAT WAS THE PROBLEM.  NO! 

So, leave it to the John Deere tractor...it was able to pull the semi, loaded with the calves up the lane.  Okay, that worked...until it got stuck again.  Back up, hook on, didn't work!  Back up, unhook, re-hook, unhook...finally, unstuck!  Too much messing around for me...

Meanwhile, the rain came down, the mud went up, Steve did too much, I got after him, the son-in-law finally explained "why" to the trucker.  I don't know if he was worried about the guy thinking Steve was being coddled too much, or if the guy would think I was being far too bossy (can't imagine that) whatever it was, I was worrying about the same thing, so I'm glad he told him what the deal was.  Except, he said "mother" is worried about him hurting his back, he has back problems, which then made me say, "I'm not his mother, I'm his wife".   Didn't want him to think I was THAT old, or, that I was pulling the Charlie Sheen card and the boys were my "gods". There was laughter...at least it explained what was going on, to my relief...and Steve's. 

61 calves, a semi, a John Deere tractor and a super rainy, muddy day...let the fun begin...

Hands...I've always had a fascination with hands.

Hands...I've always had a fascination with hands.  As an adult, I look at my hands and those of my family and I sometimes see the "genetics" of it all.  Who do my hands look like?  My cousin Tony has hands like my uncle's, who has hands like my Grandpa Herb's, his dad.  My Aunt Dorothy's hands remind me of my Grandma Grace's; her mom.  I see that my Aunt Elaine's girls hands look like hers, but hers don't look so much like Grandma Grace's; I sometimes think my hands look like my mom's, but I also think they look like my dad's side of the family.  They inspire me!

Even as a little girl, the crooked fingers of my Great Grandma Heifner and worm-like veins on my Great Grandma Breton's hands were imprinted in my mind.



Grandpa Herb and his mother,
Grandma Heifner

Gnarled and bent to the side, arthritis had Grandma Heifner's hands in it's grip.  At one time straight and feminine, just like she was.  At her death, small and delicate, just like she was.  I was much younger when Grandma Heifner passed away, so I don't remember allot about her everyday comings and goings.  She seemed old to me, even then, BUT, I do remember her hands.



Grandma Breton with
 Gr. Granddaughter Courtney



Grandma Breton's hands were narrow and long, encased with skin as delicate as an onions.  Made transparent in the aging process, it didn't take much to bump and bruise.  Even as her eyesight left her, she was able to crochet~her hands knew what to do...by memory.  It was her hands that traced my youngest daughter, Mackenzy's face as a newborn.  She said she'd be frugal because her nose was small. She could not see then.  I remember her hands.

Their hands, at one time, were strong and capable.  Many a household task was performed with them.  A spanking~here and there, surely met their palm. Cookie dough rolled out, a piece of butterscotch candy put in a grandchild's hand. 

I don't know if either played the piano or any other instrument; sang or were masters at anything, really. But, I'm confident that a nose was wiped, a tear swept away, and hundreds of meals were prepared.  A helping hand was lent, a finger lashing now and again.

A garden planted, fruits and veggies picked and put up for another day.  A baby's back patted, diaper's changed, clothes hung on the line, finger puppets games played.  And, we can't forget a hug and a pat on the back.  

Crooked fingers and worm-like veins were imprinted in my mind.  And, as I sit here, writing this, I'm trying to remember if I knew their hands any other way; and, I don't think I do.

Hands...I've always had a fascination with hands.  They inspire me!

The Cardinal's visit

A crimson red cardinal is a sight to see.  They are beautiful.  They feel like royalty to me.  If there were to be a king and queen of the bird species, to me, it'd be the cardinal. 

I enjoy seeing the many birds that come and go from our birdfeeders on a daily basis.  They are just cute to watch and make me happy.  I can count on one hand the times a cardinal has been seen by me at the feeders...anywhere, actually. 

The very few times I've seen one up close and personal have been times that have been unsettling for me.  I find that very interesting.  I've spoken and written before of the two cardinals that showed up right after my Aunt Kay's funeral.  I was sitting on my front porch, with my husband, and two cardinals (my aunt's favorites) perched on a bush just over the rail by my arm, sat for just a few minutes, as if telling me, "all will be okay."  Then they flew off.  I found comfort in that.

Today is one of those days.  Life just seems to be out of balance for me right now.  I'm unsettled, a bit nervous and simply put, "out of sorts".  I've been here before, as most of us have been.  I'm ready to shake this feeling, though.  Need to shake this feeling.

As I sat down on my comfy couch, pondering the same things over and over, coffee in hand, I looked out my window and there sat a beautiful crimson cardinal.  All will be okay...all will be okay.  It almost brought tears to my eyes. 

It's amazing what seeing that little red bird did for me.  Hope.  I love that word.  I think it's very powerful and if a person doesn't have it, life can be challenging.  I think Hope helps us to survive the unsettling times, the nervous and stressful times.  Without hope, we have nothing. 

This crimson cardinal made me see again, the hope for my future.  It put a little bounce in my step and got a different thought process going for me.  Don't we all need that at times? 

I pray often.  Sometimes it's just me having a little talk with God.  I always feel his presence...always.  But, today...the past few days, I've needed a bit more, and I fully believe, God new that, and sent me the cardinal...

A crimson red cardinal paid me a visit today.  It was telling me all would be okay.

Lunching with my First bestie

Cousin Linda, Debbie & me/Lake Ahquabi

For as far back as I can remember, my cousin, Debbie, was in my life.  Not just as my cousin, but as my bestie!  I really can't think of too many times that an event for either of us was not shared. 

Of course, the daily ying and yang of life occurred away from each other, but, the monumental events:  Christmas, Easter, birthdays, stay overs, and even some vacations and such, included each other.

On a whim, I called and asked her to lunch yesterday, after seeing on Facebook, that she was on vacation from work.  I'm so glad I did.  Even today, our lives are intertwined and we continue to share some of the same events life has to offer. 

As little girls, we played little girl games.  We stayed over at Grandma's house together, stayed up all night playing games, giggling and in our teens, making calls to teen lines.  I witnessed her driving the mini bike into the fence and she stood up with me getting married(the 1st time).  I think we fell off Lucky, the pony together and were teased incessantly by our uncle Jack and Jerry.  I think Debbie was tormented by "bugs" and me, I screamed "icky acky"as I was placed in amongst a pasture of horse manure. 

Debbie's parents belonged to a camping group and I was often invited to go along on these camping events.  These were some of the best times of my childhood.  Teen dances...man, what a treat!  The venue would be crowded with 13, 14, 15 year olds.  Dancing 'til we couldn't dance no more...or, maybe the music stopped.  I can't really remember.  All I remember is that is was FUN!

During this same time frame, Debbie would come and stay overnight.  Time and again.  And, time and again, it seemed something strange would happen.  Ummmm, for instance, we were awakened by lights flashing and cops knocking at our door when our car was stolen, tornadoes hit, a man was found in our ditch passed.  She thought of herself as a "jinx".  It was very strange.

One Easter she spent the night with us.  We were up after the Easter Bunny made an appearance.  I can remember we were playing some game on the kitchen floor and one of us saw an Easter Egg that had been hidden.  Well, we started looking and finding and of course, eating them. 

We had our children together.  I babysat for her and her for me.  We shared the deaths of our grandparents and an aunt together.  Although our lives somewhat went their separate ways, I know my love for her never did!  I knew I'd always be there for her if she needed it and her me.  Yesterday was just one of those days.  She didn't really know it, but I'm glad it worked out.  I needed a little "cousin time."  Being one to believe that things work out the way the are supposed to, I found that, once again, the stars aligned again for me when I needed it.

After all, who else shares the same stories as you do.  The same order or understanding of events; a timeline that curves and sways in and out of life's moments together, more than a family member.  For me, it was my cousin, Debbie.  We entertained at the Polk County home with my church...we STILL can do the motions to Put Your Hand in the Hand of the Man Who Stills the Waters, Deep and Wide and others.  And, let me tell you, it's not beyond us to step into those motions and song with even a mention of those times.  Christmas Pageants...memorizing our verses.  Selling "goods" to raise money to go to church camp. 

As we hit our fifties together...one before the other, but I won't mention details, we found ourselves still in sync with each other.  Yesterday's topics:  menopause and grandchildren.  We have gracefully moved into the next phase of our lives.  It's a most interesting time for sure. 

There are many other moments, events, ups and downs.  I'll save them in my memory bank and bring them out at another time. 

For now, for as far back as I can remember, my cousin, Debbie, was in my life. Not just as my cousin, but as my bestie! I really can't think of too many times that an event for either of us was not shared...

The Humbling Years

The humbling years...yes, I think my forties will be considered MY humbling years.  As I enter into my 50th year of living on this earth, I say good-bye to my forties.  Although I've always been one to feel that each obstacle, stumble, heartache, smile, laugh, and triumph are all part of my life's story, I think I shall be happy that my forties are over.  Not literally, but figuratively speaking. 

Ever since I can remember, I've had a feeling that I would not make it past my forties.  As I was reminded one day, when I made this declaration to some co-workers, a gal piped up and said, "well, you still have a year to go".  We laughed, but I was taken aback by her remark.  It was made as a joke...I think?!?!  But, I have thought on that quite often, and, as I normally do, wonder how many times I've made a remark not meaning to hurt anyone...that would not be in my nature, but just being misunderstood.  With that said, it's important, I think, to choose your words carefully and how those words are presented.  One of the biggest lessons for me is that I'm quite often misunderstood and I'm always alarmed when I've found out I've hurt someone and not even realized it.  Whooo...that has been a biggie! 

My forties, I've been personally tested in my family relationships.  I've been taken to task with things I've said or how I've said them.  I've learned the real meaning of family, and of course, friends.  I've realized it's okay to let go of relationships that are not healthy and I've realized that to have a friend you have to be a friend. 

Have I learned and grown through these years...YES!  Mostly, I've learned that I have a voice, that my feelings are real and should not be poo-pooed away.  I've learned that standing up for myself is where it's at, because no one is going to do it for you.  And, I've even learned that sometimes relationships aren't whole...and not because of me, but because of something in the other person.  One time, my son gently reminded me that a particular situation was not "about me".  He was absolutely correct.  I don't have to be responsible for everyone and their happiness or struggles.  Right then and there I made the conscious
decision that I can't take the blame for or hold the bag for every situation that occurs around me.  I don't have to fix everything. 

I'm more sensitive than I realized and that others won't know they've hurt me if I don't tell them.  And, I've realized that if they've hurt me, but aren't really on my radar of relationships I need to uphold, then it really doesn't matter.  AND, I've learned that others may have, and most assuredly do have, those same realities about me, too, and that's okay. 

I've always had a fondness for the past...cherish the stories shared through the generations.  But, this past 10 years and most definitely the past 5, I have a whole new eagerness to learn and get acquainted with my ancestors.  The who and where's.  I'm almost hungry for it.  One of my favorite quotes that shares space on a photo frame chalkboard is this:  "It is not that I belong to the past, but that the past belongs to me."  I have no idea who the author is, but it resounds within me.  I am my past and it me. 

The past...at one time, it may have been considered that I was running from it.  Not any more and certainly not for a long, long time.  I like who I am and where I came from.  My story, however crazy, happy, humbling it is, is mine to tell.  Have I told it well so far?  Will my children rise up and call me blessed?  As I said, my forties have been my humbling years.  I have far to go and I've already been walking for miles...

Maybe, my fear that I would die in my forties, is fact...not literally, but figuratively.  Will I take the lessons of the past and use them to enhance my future?  Will I continue to make the same mistakes...I sure hope not.  Will my path lead me to continue what's been right and good in my life?  I sure hope so. They certainly have a place in my reflections.  One can only move forward, righting wrongs, saying the I'm sorries, showing forgiveness and trying to be a blessing to others...in simple, ordinary, but quite possible life altering ways.

I think, the BIGGEST and most IMPORTANT thing for me, in the midst of all my ups and downs, struggles and triumphs, I've been reacquainted with ME...who I really am and what's been right all along in my life.  Sometimes, the perceived realities in our life can take hold and begin to "form" us.  In my case, I felt like they were suffocating me.  Then, at one of my class reunions a few years ago, one of my classmates said to me, "You were always the nicest girl that came over from Norwoodville"  Hmmm...I knew I wasn't the most popular, smartest, prettiest or athletic, but, someone thought I was the "nicest".  Now really, what's so bad about that?  That one comment reminded of a past relationship I had with someone and a comment she said to me.  She accused me of being "too nice."  How can one be too nice?  TOO NICE, Really?

So, as I round out my forties and head straight into my 50th year...I think I shall continue to be nice, I think that's a great thing to be called.  I will reflect on the trials, tests and tribulations of my past, just to be reminded of who I really am and want to be.  A nice person who cares about her family, friends, acquaintances and community at large.  To carry with me that "kindness should not be mistaken for weakness" and to make this world...mine and yours, a little better place to be.  And INSPIRE you to do the same.  Ahhhh, the humbling years.

Grandma made sure...

It's Christmas time and my thoughts return, once again, to my Grandma Grace.  She was very special to not only me, but to my whole family.  We were loved and accepted...no holds barred.  Her love was unconditional and you most definately felt loved and wanted and I'm pretty darn sure I'm not the only grandchild who felt this.  And, I'd be surprised if her own children or extended family didn't feel this same way.

Grandma has been gone for 21 years and to this day, I head to the phone to call and tell her about something that has happened.  I stop short of the phone and remember.  I miss her every day of my life.

When my birthday comes around, it's her card I long to find in the mailbox.  Always appreciative of the other cards I receive, quite frankly, non compare.  Please don't get me wrong...it's just that my Grandma was just that special to me and continues to be so to this day.

She was blessed with 7 children and many grandchildren. If my memory serves me correctly, at her death, she had 26 grandchildren.  There were several added and now, the greats and great-greats have been added.  She would have loved that!

I mention this because, at this time of year...Christmas, she never once left anyone out of a gift.  AND, to this day, although I'm appreciative of the gifts I receive, and the givers, non means as much to me as hers did.  It's her gift that I miss receiving to this day.

Now, her gifts were not over-the-top, expensive or one-of-a-kind gems.  No, hers were simple, everyday useful things.  Maybe a pair of gloves, socks, underpants.  Actually, now that I think about it, I don't really recall what we did get.  So, you see, the gifts were not the kind worthy of antiquity.  No, hers were symbolic of the joy of giving and making sure everyone had "something" to open...her never ending way of making sure we were all included and accepted.  LOVED!

A few times, I know others had to pinch hit for her.  I got to step in a couple of times myself.  It was pure joy to get to do this!  Socks for the boys...I remember socks for the boys.  For some reason, this is what I remember.  And, everything was wrapped as well.

One of the traditions that she had was each of the grandkids (at least us older ones) got a pair of red flannel pajamas or nightgown on our 2nd Christmas.  She made them herself.  This was one tradition I wanted to incorporate into my gift giving, but, I've fallen from "Grace" on that one.  AND, I only have one grandchild.  Mind you, she had several
grandchildren... boom, boom, boom.  A very prolific family.

She was a special lady to many.  Family first, neighbors and friends.  We were loved and accepted...no holds barred.  Her love was unconditional and you most definately felt loved and wanted.  I can only hope to be half of the grandmother she was to me. 

The Doe and cat...a mystery

One of the best things about living in the country is the splendor of watching wildlife up close and personal.  If one were to linger awhile and take in the view, they'd be surprised at just how much wildlife there is in our own backyards. 

If we can't see them, we surely can hear them!  On schedule, coyote's begin their chatter...one to the other.  Are they close or are they near?  At times, one cannot tell for sure. 

Much quieter and more polite, deer are grace on four legs.  I love to watch the deer.  Blessed with the opportunity to view them frequently from our home, they are amazing (inside a fence, of course) to see jumping, ever so swiftly, gently.

On one particular morning, I got to witness the most surprising and lovely thing.  Peering out a window from my bedroom, I noticed a doe walking along the fence line, which had a distinct path from our calves travels earlier this year.  The doe seemed quite apprehensive as she wondered down the trail.  Looking here and there, I wondered what she was looking for.  Not really acting like she wanted to jump the fence, she walked along back and forth.  Hearing but not seeing...

Eventually, out from the grass-lined fence came a black cat (I hope this didn't bring bad luck to the doe).  They looked at each other, then the cat scampered away.  Now, this is the most interesting part.  The doe followed the cat.  Keeping 10 steps behind, the doe continued to follow the cat into a patch of taller grass.  Of course, the cat was hidden, and the doe just paused, kept an eye on the moving grass and then followed along. 

It was the sweetest, yet most unbelievable thing taking place.  As I went about my business, I stopped again to peer out the window.  The doe was still there...looking around nervously.  The grass was not moving.  Where did the cat go?  I stood and watched for a bit longer.  A mystery to not only me, but the doe, as well.  She continued to look from one place to the other.  She seemed at a loss...where did her little friend go?

After awhile, the doe gave up and walked away.  I wonder what made her follow the cat?  I've not seen either since.  It was a lovely sight to see.  A most enjoyable way to while away some time.  A delightful memory to bring out every now again. 

The doe and cat...a mystery.

What Price Freedom...

Today is Veteran's Day.  A day that is celebrated every year on November 11th.  A few year's ago I wrote a piece titled, What Price Freedom.  I'm sharing it again today.

What price freedom?  For most of us, we don't pay a price at all~it's here for the taking!  For the mere pleasure of living a life of freedom of choice, freedom of voice, freedom to live in a peaceful society, freedom to have an education, go to the church choose, support the causes we cherish, the freedom to send our children off to school...knowing that they'll come home.  There is so much we take for granted!  More took for granted than what is appreciated.  I mean really, really appreciated!  At what cost do we have our FREEDOM?  AND, more importantly, whose paid the debt for us?

My thoughts, in the quiet moments of the day, turn to the families who've paid the price for our freedom.  Those whose sons, daughters, husbands and wives, mommies and daddies, nieces and nephews, sisters and brothers, have paid the price...their lives.  As with most things, until something happens "closer to home" one never will have a true understanding of a situation.  And, unless it directly happens to "us", one does not get the full impact of the devastation.  Of course, we can empathize with the family, we can mourn with them, but we never, ever will understand their loss.

*at the time I wrote the original, the following was pertinent at that time.  A few weeks ago, three service men from Iowa lost their lives.  They were not in combat. They were, however, doing what they do every day, every week, every month...to make sure that we~America, are in the ready for any disaster that may occur...that may put our FREEDOM and safety in harms way.  One was a nephew of my son-in-law.  One of our own.  The fact that I was able to put a face with a name and name with a family I know, broke my heart and brought me to tears.  I saw first hand the price they paid...for my FREEDOM and YOURS!  "Brandon" had entered the armed forces post 9-11.  He most assuredly knew he'd be defending our country...and he did.  He served in Iraq for approximately 8 months.  He came home, but passed away during military training at Fort Bragg.

Whether we agree, disagree or are indifferent to the conflict that the United States is involved with today; the ones we've been involved with in the past and will surely be committed to in the future, the mere fact that we can have a view and can voice it, is reason enough for me to honor and praise our young men and women for their commitment to our country.  the defending of it, the willingness to fight for it...for you and me.  With the knowledge that ultimately it could be a cost them and the family loves them so.  Today, in America, they don't have to do it.  They choose to do this.  In many countries, it's still mandatory to give a certain amount of time to the military.

November 11th is designated Veteran's Day.  A day to honor and remember those who have given of themselves to their country and the freedom's we all enjoy.  What can we do to show our appreciation?  I leave that up to you individually to decide.  Maybe you'll do nothing, maybe a note will be sent, maybe a prayer will go out.  We all hear stories from those who served in Nam, Korea and maybe even the World Wars.  How can we honor and acknowledge each of them?  Those involved in the earlier conflicts were enlisted.  The fact that service to our country is "voluntary" today is probably due, in part, to the causes these men and women fought for.

Again I ask...what price freedom?  Well, freedom isn't really free at all, is it?  To those who have served, are serving, thank you.  It's because of you that I can drive or walk down the road and not fear a bullet.  My daughter can attend school along with my son.  I can work a job that I enjoy and make a decent living.  I can go to the church I choose, believe or not believe what I want, spend or save my money how I see fit, feed my family, help those around me and not be persecuted.  I can dress how I like.  I can walk with my head held high and my face uncovered...or covered, if that's what I choose.  I have a say in my household, elect whom I want and so much more.  Do we really have an understanding of what our FREEDOM is all about?  I leave you with that thought. 

And this folks, is the view from my front porch.

It was my kind of day

It was joyous, refreshing, relaxing, contemplative...an absolute delight!  That's right...yesterday was my kind of day!  The temps were comfortable and prime for baking and cooking.   I had a great nights sleep, so upon waking, I had the energy of my earlier years.  Sometimes these days, that's not the case.  Without going into detail...suffice it to say "I'm mid-lifing it!" 


So, with an abundance of energy, clear thoughts and focus, I started the morning off my making banana muffins.  The bananas...they, too, were prime for baking.  Yummo!  I've had my favorite recipe for years. It's simple, but good.  Muffins are one of my favs to bake and are always nice to have on hand for a quick snack. 


That done, I was off to the next thing.  Using the last bit of roast leftover from last week's meal(s), I chopped, sliced and opened a few cans.  Dumping all into a pot, I let it simmer all morning long.  I must say, it was delish! 


Here's my recipe:  leftover roast, cooked to perfection, chopped or shredded into bite size pieces.  One
X-large can of tomato juice.  Three tablespoons of beef broth granules.  Fresh onion chopped.  One can each:  carrots, green beans, corn...whatever you have on hand; liquid and all.  Frozen peas(or canned).  Four potatoes (red) peeled and chopped to bite size pieces.  One bag of shredded cabbage.  Simmer, simmer, simmer.  Serve with a variety of breads.  I must say...another YUMMO!  and, leftovers, too.

Good and hearty.  My meal was complete with a large glass of milk. 


As my day continued...I was on a baking craze, I pulled out the pie crusts I had in the fridge.  Now, my intention earlier this fall was to make apple pies.  Our trees were ladden with them.  But, time got away from me, I was sick for a few days...one thing led to another and they didn't get made.  But, I was determined to get something made.  For interest, I decided to use what I had on hand...which actually, turned out to not be as much as I first thought.  However, I was determined.  Six pies later, I ended up with:  one cherry, one blackberry, two oatmeal and two pecan (with oatmeal).  Oh, and the pecan...I ran out of Karo syrup, too, so I added some honey to complete that requirement.  They turned out beautifully.  With that said, I prefer all Karo and all pecans in the pecan pie.  I'm a purist that way, I guess!

So, my day ended with a hearty bowl of homemade soup, dessert of pie and one very happy  hubby...he's a dessert kind of guy and unfortunately, I'm really not. So having dessert readily on hand is not on my radar. Now, to find freezer space for all the goodies.  I'm bound and determined to have these around for awhile and not eaten in a matter of days.  We'll see how that goes. 

It was joyous, refreshing, relaxing, contemplative...an absolute delight!  That's right...yesterday was my kind of day!  And this folks, is the view from my front porch.

Don't Hog Your Journey...



My cousins, lil sis and me, circa 1968...
we're each a part of the others journey



"Don't hog your journey, it's not just for you." As I was listening to the Today show while working, Hoda Kotb was sharing a story. While on a plane, she was visiting with the gentleman sitting beside her. Chit-chatting away, she had mentioned she had had breast cancer. She asked him not to think of that if he ever thought of her in the future. He turned to her and said, "Don't hog your journey, it's not just for you." I kept thinking of that statement and have decided that I agree with it. What if no one ever shared their story~their journey...good or bad. My world would certainly not be as rich and full as it is now. I would not know of another's happiness, adventures, struggles. I would not be who I am today without knowing of another's journey.

Hoda's story is great, and deep, and more than just her breast cancer...for sure! We are all more than just one part. We are, shall we say, the sum of all our parts. I am a woman, a mother, a wife, a daughter an entrepreneur...the list goes on and on. But, it's the sum of all of these things that makes me who I am today. I enjoy sharing my journey...it gives me great pleasure and I hope it adds to your journey, too.


The other day, I stopped by the "Music in the Park" event held at the city park in town. In amongst the music...which was very enjoyable, I heard someone get up and give a testimonial. I wonder, did his journey make a difference to someone else in the crowd. It did mine and I'm sure another's. Then I have to think...what if he didn't share his "journey"? What if he kept it to himself...I would not have known the depth of his story...his courage in sharing it. It has stuck with me...and, it removed me from my cares and woes and opened my mind, my heart, to another's struggles and triumphs.


Life is a Journey, isn't it? Sometimes we're on a mountain, sometimes we're in a valley. Most of the time, I'd guess we're just motating along on the plaines. Enjoying life, taking one day at a time, doing what needs to be done and just cruising along. To me, it's the mountains and valleys that we grow the most. We are pushed to our limit, only to find our limit can be pushed. We read something or hear of someone else's journey and we gain strength from it. We realize we're not alone. Somehow, we come out on the other side because of it...but don't necassarily understand where it came from. What if no one shared their journey? Who would be a better, stronger, wiser person because of your journey? Maybe your journey is told by your actions. How you reach out to your community members, volunteering, donating, a struggle overcome. Our journey's are shared in many different ways. The key is that it's shared.


"Don't hog your journey, it's not just for you." I would not be who I am today without knowing of another's journey. And this folks, is the view from my front porch.


Beth Voltmer lives on a farm in rural New Virginia

Learning to peel...Grandma Grace style

I was peeling apple upon apple yesterday, readying them for an apple cake I was making.  As I started, knife poised just under the flesh, I was distinctly reminded of the time (in my early years of homekeeping) when I was peeling potatoes under the careful watch of my Grandma Grace.  Not knowing I wasn't doing it correctly, she quickly pointed out that I was wasting too much of the potato.  She showed me how to do it.  She'd be proud of me today.  I can peel a potato, apple, pear...whatever it may be, with the best of them.

It does take practice...this peeling.  Sliding the knife just under the flesh and peeling away the colorful top layer, leaving behind as much of the meat of the fruit or vegtable as you possibly can.  My other goal is to peel the fruit with one swell swoop.  No starts and stops.  I find that I point this same thing out to others at times, too.  I want them to be as proficient as they can be.  Not to waste anything so precious.

I think, my memories of my Grandma are most vivid and alive while I'm in the kitchen.  I can still see her in her kitchen now...21 years after she's passed.  A strong, sturdy woman.  Seems she was in her kitchen all the time.  That's where I remember her most.  It wasn't a big kitchen.  But, somehow, she managed and fed her brood of seven quite sufficiently from it.  There certainly was not a multitude of cabinets, nor counter space.  A very humble kitchen, to say the least.  A very humble home over all.  I loved it there. 

She was a great cook and a very generous lady.  She always seemed to have plenty for whomever was there.  No guest was "one too many".  Never an invitation only household...somehow, we all gathered there.  And, I do mean "we".  It may not have been the same "we" every Saturday, but there were plenty of us.  Saturday nights were hamburger night.  I can see her mixing the hamburger meat and it never failed, she always took one bite of the raw meat, spiced with salt and pepper, only.  Still  makes me gag.  I don't remember anything else being put in it.  I remember that, every single time I make a hamburger patty.  Funny what sticks with you, isn't it? 

Sundays, too, brought another set of "we's" and some of the same from the night before.  It was "just the place to be."  WE all loved it there.  And, WE all miss it terribly, even to this day. 

Right before my Grandma got really bad with her cancer, she came to spend a week with me.  I will forever treasure that time.  She seemed to have gained strength that week.  I wanted to her to show me how to make her vegatable stew, which she did.  Our cherry trees were heavy laden with fruit.  I wanted to learn how to make pie.  She happily obliged.  She rolled out the dough for the crust with every ounce of energy she could muster.  It just came from somewhere.  Maybe we both knew...if I were to learn this from her, and she to show me how, it was right then, or never.  She passed just a few weeks after I had her at my home.  It was one of my greatest accomplishments...to care for her like she had me for so many years.

She tired, but did not quit.  She sat down at my table and started working those cherries over.  De-pitting and de-stemming.  Before we knew it, we had cherry juice all over...and, I do mean all over.  I think we must have been so busy talking and cherishing that moment, we weren't really engaged in what we were doing.  It took me awhile to get that cherry juice cleaned up.  It was blissful!  I miss her every single day! 

She was a generous lady and no guest was ever "one too many".  Never a "by invitation only" household.  I learned from her.  She was my mentor.  She is my mentor...she's with me every day and I miss her!  And this folks, is the view from my front porch.

Would you like me if you Knew?

I wonder...I really do wonder!  Would you like me if you knew?  Knew what you ask?  Today's news has got me to wondering.  Let's play a game of Suppose if...okay, you ready? 


Suppose you and I, along with our families...I'm speaking of our parents and siblings, were friends.  We, you and I, met in kindergarten and went all through school together.  Had sleep overs at each others homes.  Stayed up all night giggling like the school girls we were.  We were blissful. We loved each other like sisters. 


Suppose you and I, and our families had taken vacations together.  We went to Florida one year and shared the experience of seeing the great ocean for the first time together.  We camped at the local lake; where we swam by day and made smores by night.  We talked under the stars for hours and hours.  We even went to the Grand Canyon one year...our families together. 


Suppose we partook in American Traditions.  We even shared some Fourth of July's together, where the sparklers lit up the night.  We enjoyed the floats, bands and saluted the American Flag, hand over our hearts, at the parade.  We celebrated other times, too, you and I and our families.


Suppose we went our separate ways come college; but knew in our hearts we'd be friends forever and ever.  We visited each other at our respective colleges.  We attended each others games, campus events...and more.  We set each other up with guys we thought would be perfect for the other. 


Suppose we never talked about religion.  We never ever talked politics.  We never ever heard our parents talk about it either.  It was a rather mute subject for both. We knew your family didn't go to church and my family kept quiet about ours.  We knew your beliefs...or that you weren't BIG believers.  We knew our beliefs were not readily accepted, so the less said, the better.  We were not ashamed, there was nothing to hide, really. It was just easier to do our thing and spare ourselves the condemnation or discussions.


Suppose you finally fixed me up with the one and only guy that turned my world upside down.  We hit it off.  We became engaged.  We (you and I) knew you'd be my maid-of-honor...it was agreed on many, many years before.  We, you and I, sat down one day and I shared ideas for the wedding.  We talked about colors, who else would be in the wedding and all the other one million and one things that needed to be talked about.  We then discussed where the wedding would be held~


Suppose I said it would be held at the Mosque downtown.  But, because my husband-to-be was Christian, it'd be a combined ceremony.  We, you and I, looked at each other.  We, you and I, sat in silence.  We, you and I, felt a shift in our relationship...in that second that it took for it to register what I had said, you decided if you WOULD LIKE ME IF YOU KNEW?


Today is September 10, 2010.  The day before the anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks in New York.  How many years...nine.  Today, on the news, there is talk of a minister in Florida threatening to burn the Koran.  The holy book of the Muslim faith.  What are my thoughts, my feelings?  To be honest, they are ones of confusion and really, really, disbelief!  I'm saddened.  I'm astonished.  I'm irritated.  I'm bereft!  And, I think I'm kind of mad!


Religion...it's so many things to so many people.  I am a member of the United Methodist Church in New Virginia, Iowa.  I am that because it's mainstream.  It's a church in my community.  It's neither left nor right.  It fits my lifestyle.  It's comfortable.  It's Iowa.  It's in the middle. 

I grew up in a non-denominational church in Des Moines.  I went there because that is where my aunt went and she got me there.  Had my childhood been different and my parents had married, I would have been raised a south side Catholic.  It's a fact.  It's true.  Nothing wrong with that..it's just that I am what I am, because of my circumstances.  And, I bet...if you really considered it all, you are what you are because of your circumstances, too.

Had I been raised in the south, there's a good chance I would have been raised in a Baptist Church.  If I lived in Finland...I may have been Lutheran.  To me...religion is 'where we're at' 'where we're from' more than anything else.  I find I like the simple wisdom of the Buddhists.  I appreciate the rituals and symbolism of Catholicism.  I love the traditions of the Christian faith.  I know no others to compare. 

I'm mystified at the discombobulation that is 'man-made' in my opinion.  I do not know anyone who is Muslim, that I'm aware of.  I have friends who are Catholic, Baptist, Lutheran and Evangelicals.  I don't think I know anyone who is Jewish.  Our exchange student was a Christian, but her grandmother was Buddhist.  She studied the Bible, and went to Temple, too.  I'm sad that I don't know of these other cultures, which seem to be defined by their religion.  Gosh, I'm missing out on so much, I'm just sure of it. 

So, here I am...back where I started...we played a little game of Suppose if...what are your thoughts on this subject?  You don't have to put them here...just take some time to think about this.  Again I ask: Would you like me if you Knew?  And I wonder...

Mornings, Memories and Moments, part one

I love my mornings...especially this one.  After weeks of sweltering, hot, humid weather, I awoke to much cooler, comfortable temps and lower humidity.  Sleep is so much sweeter with the fresh air finding it's way into your being~windows wide open and coverings billowing.  I love it and slept so well.

Refreshed and ready to start my day, I jumped out of bed, started some wash...then, coffee time~me time.

My routine is most likely not much different than others.  Up and out of bed, I turn on the morning news, brew the Joe, check for missed texts and voice mail messages.  Reply as needed. Facebook time follows:  what's new and noteworthy?  New photos, birthdays, personal highs..and, lows; inspirational quotes, event reminders...I really enjoy 'catching up'. 

Today is a bit different for me though.  The past three weeks have been a whirlwind of happiness for me.  Reflecting back on my time spent with my nephew, Camden; vacation with my family at Rathbun; a weekend with my past...hosting my 'girl' cousins for our 'Cousins Weekend' and the finale~my 30 year class reunion.  Wow!  it's been fun, fun, fun!

Camden loves the farm.  He especially loves building a fire and poking at it.  We made sure that activity was part of the mix.  He picked apples for me, went to a buyer's Welcome to the Neighborhood open house I hosted, helped move the cows and just relaxed on the farm. Five days of Camden...it was such a joy.

The part I liked best was making the time for him.  Stopping what I was doing to talk and answer a question.  Two afternoons found us at the pond.  He fished while I read on the first afternoon.  The second afternoon found us floating on the pond...it was refreshing and a 'bonding' experience.  We talked about anything and everything.  He made me giggle.  He asks some pretty good questions...which made me think and ponder.  Camden is a really great kid with an inquiring mind and a zest for adventure.  He laughs easily and it's contagious.  He's always been a giggler...even when he was a little guy.  Kind of arnery in a subtle way.  A teasing manner that sometimes makes you wonder if he's teasing or being serious. Much like his daddy in that.

My sister brought Camden to me at my office in Des Moines.  We left and had showings to do.  He was great!  He got to see a little of what it is I do selling real estate.  We were very late getting home, but Uncle Steve had a fire going for us at the pond.  That is directly where we headed!  Just Camden and I. 

We looked at the stars.  He made himself a 'smore.  We listened to the sounds of summer...sounds of the countryside.  Had he heard them before...most likely.  Were they more intense?  vivid? brighter?  YES, because we were 'in the moment'.  Crickets, grasshoppers, croaking frogs.  Callie barked in the distance...what did she see, smell or hear?  A falling star zipped through the sky.  Flickering lights from an overhead plane.  Big Dipper and Milky Way were overhead. 

In the quiet of the night, with no interuptions, Camden and I shared a special moment in time, memories in the making to be remisced in the morning...at a different place and a different time.  Hoping this time 'finds' Camden, when he has a niece or nephew of his own~he'll take the time, be in the moment and discover for himself, just how special this time was for me.

My inspired life: Mixin' and Matchin'

My inspired life: Mixin' and Matchin'

Mixin' and Matchin'

Last weekend served as the Grand Re-opening for Vintage Home & Garden.  After 8 years being open, I felt it time for a face lift.  So, several cans of paint later, new inventory, and a little rearranging, the doors opened at 10 a.m. Thursday, July 15th.  Many nice compliments unfolded. 

I had a great time doing a little mixin' and matchin' with the vintage jewelry and clothing in the shop.  Brooches, earrings, necklaces and scarves were matched to sweaters, cami's, skirts and more.  A photo shoot is planned...keep a watch out for more on this later.

New garden decor, by way of flowers and birds, will "happy up" your sweet garden spots.  Introducing my "Time Traveler" and "Time in a Bottle" lines.  I've had fun with this.  Stop in and see what I'm talking about.  Great ways to showcase family photos, old letters and ephemera.  A nice gift for a 'graduate-to-be' or start placing mementos for a new baby...maybe yours or a grandchild.  

Stop in sometime.  VHG is open the Third Thursday and following Friday, Saturday and Sunday for a sweet, once-a-month shopping event.  10-3.  OR, by appt. 

Thanks to all the Vintage Home & Garden Fans that made their way to the shop...it was a real pleasure to meet my 'new' friends.  

“It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation." ~ Herman Melville
 
I received this today on Facebook. I really liked it and really, what a true statement.  Do we live a life of authenticity or do we imitate?  Imitation is the easy road to travel, isn't it.  And, it does flatter...but who? 
 
Something to think about today in our comings and goings.  Have a wonderfully authentic day inspired by originality! 
 
Beth

Summer in a Tomato

After a wet and soggy start to our summer, here in Iowa, the weather has been picture perfect the past few days.  Hot and sultry...it drains you to just step outside.  But, not these past few days.  Energized and ready to entertain for the upcoming 4th of July Celebration...plans are underway.

I picked my first tomatoes from the garden the other day.  Summer in the form of a ripe red, juicy tomato.  As a little girl, my cousins and I, would pick a tomato from our grandparents garden.  Biting into it, the juice would run down our chins.  We'd giggle~take another bite~giggle again!  I love reminiscing about those times...all the time. 

I think it comes with the aging process.  We have a tendency to reflect back more and more.  Each generation thinking there's was the best, when really, if we each wrote down our favorite memories, studied them side-by-side, we'd realize that the memories are all similar.  They don't look much different...the basics.  The memories are much the same and really, I mean REALLY, have everything and all, to do with family and home. 

All that changes are the clothes we wear, the cars we drive, the jobs we have...the home and places we live.  All of those things revolve around us~but, they really don't 'sustain' us. I find, as I move into this thing called 'grandma~hood', I want to share with Makenna...actually, even my nephews, those things that inspired my childhood. 

The songs we sang, camping, fishing, picking a dandelion and placing it under our chin to see if we like butter.  Family reunions, aunts and uncles, cousins around...all the time.  Picnics and holidays, Christmas eve pj's.  These are all generational and family traditions.  And, inspire in us the same need and want to carry them on...for the here and now and the generations to come.  

A ripe red tomato grows in my garden~a new generation will know the thrill of picking it fresh, biting into it~giggles will form, as the juice runs down a chin and I am inspired!

Vintage Home & Garden...where my inspirations come to life

I've been busy...busy, busy, busy.  My mornings are spent with my real estate business.  My afternoons, weekends and any other 'free' time is spent at my shop.  I'm re-re-redoing, refreshing, re-styling.  It's been 8 years and time for a change.  It's been fun, uplifting and energizing. 

Time is closing in on me. I'm a procrastinator...so, the push is on.  Almost every day, I receive a call or email from someone asking if my shop is open yet...and if not, WHEN?  My open date is coming soon. 

The THIRD THURSDAY SALES will start in July.  VINTAGE HOME & GARDEN will be open the THIRD THURSDAY each month and the following Friday, Saturday and Sunday...YES, I'm going to try being open on Sundays.  I'll be open 10:00~3:00 each day.  As always, I will try to accomodate shoppers by appointment. 

You're going to find a new look...walls have been repainted.  New vintage merchandise will be available, as well as NEW, new home and garden decor.  

Please mark your calendars now...and plan to make it a day shopping at Vintage Home & Garden and the other fine shopping venues in south~central Iowa. 

I'm inspired...are you?

Great time with a Great Friend

It was a great time, shared with a great friend. I decided to try my hand at camping alone, my hubby has cows he needs to tend to, and my job allows me to be anywhere and conduct business. So, with a little planning, a date picked out, groceries purchased, clothes packed...I was off and pulling the rig behind me (followed by the hubby...he had to show me how to set up).

While in the midst of making my camping plans, I remembered my friend, Cindy, had purchased her own camper, so, I did what any good friend would do. I invited her to join me. So the adventure unfolds...

Steve left on Sunday morning, so that meant I had two whole days by myself, until Cindy made her way down. What to do, what to do? I had so many ideas and plans of things I wanted to get done. I didn't know where to start.

I finally decided to try my hand at watercolors. Not too bad, not too bad! It was fun and I lost myself in what I was doing. I was surprised at how enjoyable it was. Sitting at my camper table, taking in the views of the lake, I painted a landscape. Set it aside...I'd come back and tweak it later. I used my pencil to outline a rooster...what did I want it to look like? What colors would I use and how would I initiate texture into the painting? How would it all come together? My first attempt at watercolors was successful, enjoyable and something I wanted to accomplish. I'll come back to it again, and again, and again...I liked it just that much!

It was so fun, not a care in the world! No laundry to worry about, didn't have to concern myself with a meal for anyone. I was one relaxed gal. I pondered, I cleaned, I rearranged the camper (it needed to be done). My afternoon was filled with whatever tripped my trigger...which really wasn't much, but, it was nice! It was refreshing! it was liberating!

The adventure began when Cindy rolled in. I giggle now, just thinking about it. WHAT IS IT THAT IS SOOOOO DARN DIFFICULT TO BACK A CAMPER...ANYTHING FOR THAT MATTER, INTO A NICE BIG PARKING SPOT? We both new what had to be done, we both new how to do it. But, then we noticed a real nice, older gentleman watching us. We, being the big hearted gals that we are, thought that maybe he had some testosterone induced need to come and help these 'damsels in distress'. So, we just played up to it and sure enough...he came over, beat on his chest and directed Cindy into her spot. We played our cards right on that one!

Of course, I'm just being silly. We were very appreciative of his help. And, as I mentioned, we knew what to do...JUST COULDN'T DO IT!!! This sweet man insisted upon helping us set up the camper. "Verle" was his name. Pretty soon, we waved his sweet wife over to join us at the picnic table. Shirley came right over and we had an extremely nice visit. Verle and Shirl went back to their camper and Cindy and I had supper in mine. Needless to say, it had to be the hottest day of the year so far, and we were hot, sweaty and exhausted.

Our two day adventure took us to Van Buren county one day and into Missouri the next. Yes, I did say Missouri. Jamesport, Missouri to be exact. A little shopping along the way, a stop here and there and lots and lots of talking and laughing.

Once again, I found myself basking in the joy of taking the road less travelled. My cohort in crime likes to do that, too. And so, there we were, driving along the back roads of southern Iowa and Northern Missouri. Gentle curves, rolling blacktop, grassy hillsides dotted with cows and the occasional sheep. A great time, shared with a great friend...taking the road less travelled and enjoying the adventure called life.

So many reasons to be inspired...

I find inspiration in many places.  From many different situations.  A multitude of who, what, where and why's...one never knows when inspiration will come, but if we're open to it, it'll find us! 


A gentleman stopped in my office to chat the other day, and said, "wow, this is bright.  I like it."  I told him that I needed bright, happy colors go give me energy, make me happy...inspiration.  He noticed that I pulled the wall colors from the picture I had hanging behind my desk.  He was correct.  A colorful and pretty picture inspired me...first to purchase it and then to use.  I had this picture in my bedroom for quite awhile.  Now, it's in my office.  It makes me happy to be in my office, surrounded by colors and things I enjoy. 


I subscribe to a couple different 'do good, feel good' blogs/websites.  Daily, I receive a new post on my email with a great story and quotation.  I find, the more I introduce these into my daily life, the more I am in tune and concientious of being better.  I think about the situation and wonder how I could incorporate that into my life.  Who could I share a similar idea with...to make someone else's life better.  It helps to keep me focused, and of course, inspired. 

Take a minute to leave a comment here on my blog...share a story, an idea...your inspiration.  Thanks for stopping by today...