Putting my self out a little further.

Hello word press loves.  
Just wanted to share a little update. You can now find my blog on Facebook .
I’d love for you all to follow this link and continue to follow me.  
I am planning to still post here but perhaps not as frequently. 
Come along for the ride.  

Happy Friday! 
Write with passion.  Find your inspiration. 

C.

Advertisements

More than half my life

When I tell people that I am newly forty and have been married for nineteen years (together for more than half my life)

I always seem to get a surprised reaction.

Sometimes I like to chalk it up to my youthful beauty (insert belly laugh here) 

But I believe the reaction comes from a place of genuine shock and surprise. 

In a time where it is easier to throw out a broken thing rather than fix it -we are still standing.

My American grandfather always reminds us of this fact, I can almost hear him tell me 

Back in my day if something didn’t work right we didn’t shop for something new. We worked on and fixed what we already had, whether it was our lawn tractors or our relationships. 

In perhaps not those exact words.

For the record, sometimes it just doesn’t work. There are so many reasons for a relationship to fail.  Sometimes the tractor just needs to be junked. 

That’s ok too

My husband and I were young – in retrospect now that I have a preteen daughter and nieces and nephews who are now the age I was when I got married- maybe too young to get hitched.

I’ll admit – when I said ‘I do’, I didn’t fathom the depths of what for life really meant.

I have a memory of driving on our honeymoon and looking at each other in awe 

 “What did we just do?” 

Then laughing about the fact that when we turned 40 we’d already be married for 20 years. 

And now here we are. 

Please don’t get me wrong. It has not always been smooth sailing.  

There have been plenty of peaks and valleys on this road of ours. 

Lots of shit piles to plow through along the way. 

Lots of broken tractor parts in the fields of greener pastures. 

When we stumbled upon them (or sometimes fell right into them) 

We adjusted. 

We became expert shit shovelers.

We picked up the pieces of tractor and slowly learned how put it back together again. 

We leaned into each other instead of leaning away.  

The end result after our twenty years is not a shiny new top-of-the-line tractor. 

Nope

It’s a dirty, manure smeared, jolopy of a tractor, melded together with dented pieces, elbow grease and the labor of love. 

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Every marriage is a hard road. It’s easy to fall in love- the work comes in staying in love.  

“What did we just do?” I asked

“The rest of our lives?” He answered in his question.

(Insert belly laughs here again- because that was the only answer we had) 

Our twenty year love is a one with a depth that maybe no one will ever understand. 

But it doesn’t matter – because it’s ours.

And it runs better now then when we first drove away in it. 

Today – Tell your someone you love them.  

Not because the card companies tell you to buy flowers and give gifts this Feb 14.  But because every day you wake up is a gift. 

Even if your tractor looks a little run down and rusted. Or your road seems very long.  Or your shit shovel is broken – again.

This road is yours to live and understand and love despite what comes your way. 

And that alone deserves a prideful belly laugh. Or at the very least a clear path through the manure pile. 

Happy hearts and flowers day. 

Write with passion. Find your inspiration. 

C. 

Yesterday I received this 

Yesterday I received this notification from WordPress several times through the day.

   I couldn’t figure out what was causing such a spike, then today it continued and I realized it was the one year anniversary of my most popular blog post.

So in honor of its anniversary and wanting to simply state a heartfelt thank you to all of my followers and those who take the time to read and comment and inspire me! 

Happy one year to my post with the very long title!

Thank you WordPress friends.  💞☺️

A repost for you:
https://musefullymendaciloquent.wordpress.com/2015/01/29/please-dont-look-at-me-like-that-when-i-tell-you-i-am-a-pediatric-intensive-care-nurse/

Just jot it January – mendaciloquent 

Yesterday I got lucky and had my word selected for Linda G Hill’s JUST JOT IT JANUARY.  

Which means it was that day’s word prompt for all those who would like to play along! 

Super cool! 

Clearly I chose mendaciloquent, because who doesn’t love that word as much as I do? 

Well, everyone who has never heard of it before I guess…

Seeing as my word was the word of the day – I wanted to add my Just Jot it January to the pile.

Thanks to Linda for using my word, and for everyone brave enough to step up to the challenge of such a word 🙂 

Here’s my jot ~ enjoy! 

                        ~~
‘Christopher.’ My grandfather’s voice called from across the living room, rough and kind but not demanding. ‘Did I ever tell you the story about the year I walked along the damp floor of the Costa Rican rainforest?’ 

I picked the clean pot off the counter and stuffed my tea cloth in, swirling it around the inside. 

I tilted my head in his direction to answer and took a moment to really see my grandfather, sitting patiently, his crooked fingers steepled just in front of his mischievous smile. 

My mother leaned in and whispered, ‘Be careful of that mendaciloquent old man, if you listen long enough,  you’ll turn out just like him.’ She winked, flicking warm, sudsy dish water at my face while she laughed. 

She loved that man before I was born and could not hide her pride in his story telling ways.

I bit at my grandfathers invitation, as I always did, and slunk down on the carpet beside his rocking chair. 

Thinking as I pulled my legs up under me I am too old for this– but also knowing that through the eyes of this remarkable old man – I am still a child. 

Taking his soft, wrinkled hand in mine I  rested my head on his leg like I did years ago, listening to the slow, rhythmic rattle of of his breath mingle with the  hum of the oxygen tank. 

‘No papa,’ I say looking up into his gentle face. ‘Tell me your story.’

From the kitchen I can almost hear my mother smile and for a time we get lost in  his vibrant, artful lies and fall ever deeper, under his spell. 

  

Write with passion. Find your inspiration. 

C. 

#BellLetsTalk 

It’s #BellLetsTalk 2016 ! 

Today, Bell will donate 5¢ more to mental health initiatives for every:

Text message sent*

Mobile & long distance call made*

Tweet using #BellLetsTalk

Share of the Facebook image

In honor of this worthy cause I’m reposting an earlier post which is close to my heart.  

A creative non fiction piece about a dear friend of mine.

Diagnosed as bipolar, she has encountered many struggles from homelessness to addiction, yet is a beautiful example of grace and gratitude in her potential abyss of mental health. 

Have a read HERE and feel free to share.

Let’s spread the message of understanding and help to end the stigma about mental health. 

Bell let’s talk! 
 
Be brave enough to start a conversation that matters! 

Squelch the stigma ~spread kindness instead. 

#endthestigma. 

Today, Let’s Talk
Write with passion. Find you inspiration.

C. 

Winter reads quote lovin’

I am a late bloomer with reading this one. But it has entered my heart at the top. Definitely one of my new all time favorites.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep going without a friend. I used to be able to do it very easily, but that was before I knew what having a friend was like. It’s much easier not to know things sometimes. And to have french fries with your mom be enough.”

The perks of being a wallflower, Stephen Chbosky.

The kind of raw innocence and heartbreaking words that always keep me coming back for more.

“Love always,

Charlie.”

Write with passion. Find your inspiration.

C