Tag Archives: this i know: notes on unraveling the heart

This particular day

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Remember that this particular day will never happen again. ~Susannah Conway, from this i know: notes on unraveling the heart

A few moments from today:

Sleeping in until 6:15 am (yes, this counts as “sleeping in” when you typically get up at 4:30 am), Sam stretched out beside me, his warmth and deep breath lulling me back to dreams.

Roses from my garden, white and deep red, in a Mason jar on my writing desk. The open window lets in cool air, bringing with it morning bird song and the smell of rain, which mixes with the scent of the roses. I write in my notebook, but not about that.

Walking with Eric and the dogs, we see a man park his truck, get out dressed in nice work clothes (button down shirt and slacks), pull a pair of dirty work boots out and put them on. With a rake slung over his shoulder, he walks towards the ball field. We walk one lap around the dog park, and when we get back, he’s still raking lines in the dirt as if it were a giant zen garden.

I clean up the house a little more, folding sheets and sorting laundry. At first, the dogs follow me from room to room, but finally settle somewhere and sleep.

A blog post that brings me to tears of gratitude and recognition, exactly what I need to hear, and I wonder once again “how will I ever thank her?”

A shower while Eric barbeques steaks for lunch. The 1/2 side of organic beef we bought at the beginning of the year allows such extravagance, midweek and midday.

Another walk, at a different park. We try to identify trees, guess the types. Everything I don’t recognize, I call an Elm–Honey Locust, Kentucky Coffee Tree, all of them Elms.

In the backyard, reading this i know: notes on unraveling the heart, the sun making leaf shadows on the pages. Sam drops a toy for me to throw, and when I do, he jumps across my chest, over my lap and the chair to go after it, like some crazy agility move or circus trick. Later, both dogs are sprawled out next to me, Sam hoarding all the toys.

This particular day will never happen again…

Gratitude Friday

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This post is a mashup of The Little Bliss List and Joy Jam, and as such is meant to celebrate: the little things that brought me hope and happiness this week, the sweet stuff of life, those small gifts that brought me joy this week. By sharing them, I not only make public my gratitude, but maybe also help you notice your own good stuff and send some positive energy out into the world.

1. The view from where I write, roses from my garden and my new favorite book.

2. Sam’s nose is getting better, and might not be Discoid Lupus Erythematosus after all. We took him to the vet yesterday, and he thinks it’s most likely a simple case of skin depigmentation that’s common in Collies that just got irritated by the sun. We got some supplements for him to take (bacon flavored, so he’s happy) and are going to check back in a month. Sam’s coat is also turning “Summer Shepherd,” when he goes from almost pure black to this brindled reddish brown, especially on his neck.

3. Summer vacation. Did I happen to mention I’m on it? For the whole summer? Until August? I took a hefty pay cut to take summers off, but I am guessing it’s totally going to be worth it. Right after I get over the trauma of the to-do list I made yesterday…

4. Brene’ Brown The Power of Vulnerability two day workshop in Boulder. I get to go, and if that weren’t enough, a dear friend decided at the last minute to go with me, so even better.

5. This morning, I wrote an outline of the book I’m working on. I’m not typically an outliner, I’m much messier and more unplanned than that, but this felt right. And you know what, kind and gentle reader? I had a complete sense of power and confidence as I did. This is totally going to happen, and I’m going to learn so much in the process.

6. A good night’s sleep. After waking up so early yesterday and worrying about Sam, I needed it.

7. Even when I plan to take a day off from blogging or writing, I can’t, I don’t. I want to write and there seems to always be something to write about. After 25-30+ years of writer’s block, this is nothing short of a miracle.

Bonus Joy: Watching Away We Go again. I wanted a goodhearted, romantic comedy, and since they are so hard to find, I watched this one again. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it, and Alexi Murdoch does almost the whole soundtrack, so that’s really good too.