We had it planned perfectly, we thought.  The movers would come at 11am when dad would go to the senior center with his friend Harry for the day and we could get it done without him getting in the way.

Dad can barely distinguish a hammer from a screw-driver but he always wants to ‘help’.  We knew the best way to get through this was with him elsewhere.

We were having coffee and gearing up for the day ahead when the movers arrived two hours early.  I have to mention here that Dave has worked his ass off for over a week helping dad sort and pack.  He needed those two hours but soldiered on.

It’s hard enough packing your own stuff but add a sometimes belligerent old man arguing over every single thing he’s hoarded, er, saved for 93 years and the importance of taking it along… well you get the picture.

It’s what we call the Great Depression mentality.  Although I understand that generation feels the need for security that comes in having full cabinets I doubt he’ll ever need sixteen toothbrushes!

Dave is a Saint.  He’s only lost it with dad a few times.  I’m not known for my patience and find I’m biting my tongue a lot.  I admire how well he kept it together even as he finished packing the remainder during those two hours with dad’s help yesterday morning.

Once we arrived at his new apartment and the furniture and boxes were delivered we began putting it all together before Harry delivered dad to his new abode.

Dad hasn’t overly exerted himself physically in this process but he is always exhausted.  I get that.  Moving is as much a mental stress as physical and at 93 I can only imagine. 

Our son Jeff, who lives in town, came to help.  I’m so glad he was there because after everything was unpacked, cleaned, arranged, and we were totally exhausted there was a problem getting dad’s cable TV set up.

Jeff told us to go home.  He would stay until it was done.  We gratefully took the opportunity.  I was more concerned about Dave than dad at that point.

I can’t remember when I’ve seen Dave more totally spent.  This was a very emotional move for us as well as dad.  We’ve lived dad’s mental decline daily.  It’s difficult to watch. 

As I’ve mentioned before, dad’s not easy to love.  There is nothing warm and fuzzy about the man.  More often than not he’s very detached, even if he’s sitting in the middle of a room full of family. Yet, there’s a vulnerability about him that touches me.

He’s in the process of familiarizing himself with his new surroundings now.  He’ll probably have several blue haired ladies fighting over him before long. It’s that subtle vulnerability I suspect.

We’re adjusting to the quiet above us.  It helps to know we’ve done the best we could for him for thirteen years.  In his own gruff way I know he appreciates it.

He has set a goal to live to 100.  Somehow that wouldn’t surprise me much.

Have you gone through this process with an elderly relative?  Please share your story with us.

My grandparents, my primary caregivers, were very humble people.  Neither had a high school education yet they were wise.  They were devout Christians. I never saw prejudice in them ever. 

Considering my family’s rural southern roots I find that remarkable.  I’m not saying we don’t have a few skeletons in the closet.  There is the crazy uncle who was the grand Pooh-Bah of the klan for a time, but we never paid any attention to him anyway.

They weren’t actively involved in the civil rights movement yet their support and respect for those who marched and fought for equality was palpable.

I remember my grandmother praising Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. for his courage and “righteousness”.  She was a southern lady in her fifties and used the term Negro with respect.  You would live to regret ever saying nigger in her presence. 

When I think about their consciousness and morality I have to wonder how they would have felt about the issue of gay marriage.  I believe they would have evolved to the point of understanding it as a civil right.

I’m sure this is what comes to mind when you think of the sanctity of Kim Kardashian’s marriage.  Oh and Brittany Spears fifty five hour marriage, too!  Even closer to home for me would be any of my mother’s six marriages.

Is it just me or do you find all this bluster over gay marriage more sanctimonious than righteous?

It seems to me there are too many hypocrites out there passing judgment.  Perhaps they should look in the mirror.

I am personally thrilled that President Obama voiced his acceptance of gay marriage.  I understand his ‘evolution’.  Don’t we all hope to evolve into better, more loving and tolerant human beings? 

Apparently not all of us do but I believe there will now be more people willing to take a deeper look at their own feelings on the matter and do some serious soul searching.

What is it about gay marriage that could possibly threaten or demean a heterosexual marriage?  Will you love your spouse less if gays are permitted to marry?  Do you believe God would love you less if you accepted gay marriage as a civil right?

I’m on the opposite side of all those questions.  I see nothing threatening or demeaning to me personally by anyone else’s lifestyle choices.  Nothing outside of my relationship with my husband can affect my marriage.

As for how God feels… well I believe in a benevolent God who loves us all unconditionally and wants us to be happy.  How about you?

It brought me to terms with many things going on in my life at that time. Not the least of which was my marriage.  It was falling off a cliff. 

I can’t point to any one thing to blame.  Suffice to say we weren’t on the same path in any way at all.  I was desperately searching for my soul. My husband couldn’t understand how this took me in a different direction no matter how I tried to share my revelations with him.

My accident only created more urgency on my part to find my way, experience inner peace somehow.  I knew I was on the right path I just didn’t realize I might have to follow it on my own.

All this became glaringly aware to me that fateful day in May, 2000.  I had no idea how life altering that year would continue to be as I began making the choice to move on alone.

If you’ve read While You Were Sleeping you know about my husband’s victorious battle with cancer.  The bigger victory was in how our individual battles saved our marriage.

A much higher power determined the two of us would begin the new millennium with a broader view of what life is truly about and we would do it together.  I am eternally grateful for that. 

Sometimes God whispers; if that doesn’t work there’s a tap on the shoulder; sometimes it takes a 2×4.  You get the picture.

When I look back on that year I can still feel the pain and sense of hopelessness I frequently felt with each month as it evolved.  It’s like an architectural dig where you’re not sure what you’ll find but you have to keep digging knowing this is the only way to get the answer you need.

It turns out there is a higher authority, with one hell of a 2×4 let me tell you!

Today when I look back on the past twelve years it’s hard to remember how difficult it really was in 2000.  There will always be ups and downs.  No one goes through this world without challenges.  It’s how you view them that matters.

Can you take the time to analyze a difficult situation honestly and ask hard questions? Mine were:  Can you remember how you felt in the good times?  Can you give yourself some blame?  Is it really worth the pain?  It was a start.

After that you have to be willing to admit you can do more or you have to be prepared to move on.  Then, ultimately, if you surrender it to the universe with an open heart things will resolve as they were intended.

There has been so much good in my life and the past twelve years have had many highlights.  

All I have to do is look at this picture and I am instantly grateful… not just to be alive, but to share my amazing life with Dave and our entire family.

Have you had a life altering experience?  How did you handle it?

Have you ever had a near death experience? Seen the light, so to speak? Well today is the 12th anniversary of mine, and I am thrilled to be here telling you about it!  But first, I have to tell you about the most fun I ever had on Cinco de Mayo…

It was in the mid-90’s and my son Greg, who had just graduated from college, was living in NYC. A friend from my radio days owned a promotion’s company for Corona Beer and they had a big event planned in Manhattan for Cinco de Mayo.

We all met at WCBSfm, a co-sponsor, then loaded into limo’s to spread ’Cheer’s and Ole’s’, not to mention Corona and Cuervo, to 6 restaurants across the city… what fun!

WCBS is the oldies station and they have a gorgeous red 1957 Chevy limo just for this sort of event.  Greg and I were ready to spread the cheer.  Little did we know we would be in the vintage limo with … A Mariachi Band!

The routine was the same at each location… we pulled up outside the restaurant, the promotions director jumps out and shouts “It’s Cinco de Mayo! Corona and Cuervo for everyone!!”  Then the Mariachi band would pile out and play.  It was great fun that got better at each stop.  I’m sure you can imagine why!

By the time we reached the final restaurant for dinner, many of us were slightly intoxicated!  I can’t drink tequila, so I had none of the free flowing Cuervo, just the Corona.  Greg on the other hand…

As we settled into the restaurant I couldn’t find him.  There were banquettes along the wall and finally I saw his head, barely above the table where all the young interns were sitting… “Hi Mom! I’m at the kids table!”

Thank God he was taking public transportation home, and I was staying the night in NYC.  We remember that night every year with a great laugh and a Corona.  Without Greg along it would have just been another event, but sharing it with him made it special.

Now for the BIG Cinco de Mayo event…

I was relishing a beautiful rag top day in my VW Cabrio on the way to Ocean City, NJ.  Suddenly, about a mile from my exit on the Garden State Parkway I felt a strange vibration and instantly knew the car was going to roll off the highway. My right rear tire blew completely off the wheel!

In my head was the strangest calm you could ever imagine!  I heard this angelic voice saying, “You’re going to be fine, you’re going to be fine…” over and over.

And for the most part I was.  When the car landed, after flipping in the air a few time, I was sort of hanging almost upside down and desperately trying to remove my seat belt. I was afraid the car might go up in flames.

Two guys came running across the median yelling, “We’ll get you out!” and they did.  I was in shock I’m sure but honestly felt ok except for my right arm.   I had broken my ulna and was primarily black and blue from the waist down.

The most miraculous part, to me, was how many people were there with me on the median of the Garden State Parkway and, I swear to you, most of them were medical professionals.  This was before the official rescue crew showed up.  

As I wandered around looking for my cell phone a man gently forced me down on the ground with his thumb in the middle of my forehead and said, “I’m the head of surgery at Shore Memorial Hospital and I’m telling you to lie down.” He then found my phone and called my husband. 

The poor woman who was behind me on the highway came to me and asked if there was anyone she could contact.  I told her my daughter in law was waiting for me in OC and would be wondering why I was so late.

This lovely woman called the OC police gave them the address and they alerted my daughter in law.  I kept thinking it must have been more traumatic to watch this accident happen than to be in it.  She was a saint. She even called me at the hospital to make sure I was ok.

But the one thing I will never forget was the woman in charge of the EMT crew.  She was clearly in charge and I loved that!  Until she started yelling, “Where’s my bird, dammit?”  And I realized she was talking about a helicopter!  I begged her to take me in an ambulance because I was afraid of flying… to which she responded… “Honey, if you were going to die today, you’d be dead now!”

That, my friends, reminds me each May 5th to Thank God for my life and try every day to be worthy of this renaissance. 

Like many of you I read a lot of blogs.  I know most have pages other than their blog post.  I’ll admit I may not explore a blog fully right away.  As I get to know and enjoy the blog enough to subscribe I start poking around.  Do you do that too?

I attempted a second blog last year for my creative endeavors and that effort ultimately failed.  I’ve had an art website, HammondArt.biz, for about twelve years and it was on a respirator from total neglect.  Putting everything under one roof, so to speak, made perfect sense to me.

I understand it may be confusing for you having all my ‘stuff’ in one place so I’d like to explain how some of these improvements make sense.

The Home Page is where you land if you type in http://zeroto60andbeyond.com and I believe it’s easy to navigate from there.  You’ll find direct links to Books, Art and my Shop, as well as the Blog.  Zero to 60 and beyond has always been a blog… that was all.  Now it is much more.

When you click My Books you’ll find your free download, my gift to you,  of While You Were Sleeping.  It’s an eBook based on a journal I kept as my husband nearly died battling lymphoma.  I think of it as a story of hope that may help you no matter what you are battling.  I would love any feedback you would like to give on this book.

The other book is a soft cover children’s story by our dog Duffy that was ghost written by me.  He was adopted then ran away searching for his true home and purpose in life.  Duffy was deep like that!  You can read the reviews when you click on that link.  I donate all profits from his book to no kill shelters, so think of it as a great gift for a child you love and a lifeline for animals in need.

The Art page will always be a work in progress and I feel it needs some explanation.  I’ve tried to put the most popular pieces there and also included some of the murals and pet portraits I’ve done because I do accept commissions for those.  You can email me if you’re interested in that type of work.

The connection between the Art page and my Shop is where it gets tricky.  I’ve tried to make my work available for retail before and it always comes down to logistics… packing, shipping, payment, etc.  Cafepress has taken care of all the logistics for me and I’m forever grateful to Susie Riley for introducing me to them!

Here’s the tricky part… I can’t possibly put each image on each product available in the store.  You might love the photograph of the Venice Canal as much as I do but instead of wanting it as a print for your wall you’d prefer it on the cover of a journal.  Maybe you love the LOVE print but want it on a T-shirt instead of an iPhone cover or notecard.

If you want one of my prints on a T-shirt all you have to do is tell me and I will do my best to make it happen.  You can customize the art to the product by simply telling me what you prefer.  It’s fairly easy for me to add your choice to the store and from there cafepress takes care of everything else.

I’m very happy to have this connection to allow my work to be sold in traditional and non-traditional ways.  Win! Win!  You get unique products and gift ideas with original art and I have peace of mind about the quality and purchasing process.

PLUS!  It is all so very affordable.  From $3.59 for a magnet to $43.69 for a framed print.  I have ordered the products to insure I was happy with the quality and they exceeded my expectations. 

With Mother’s Day coming up next week I wanted you to know there are some very affordable gifts mom might love and if you act now they’ll arrive in time.

Did that make things a bit clearer for you?  I really hope so.  I wanted this site to be clean and as uncluttered as possible and yet feel like home for all the things I dabble in.  Thank you for the amazing support you’ve given me and I hope you’ll venture into my shop and find quality gifts of art for your friends and family.  In return I will endeavor to make more art and write more stories.

It was 1993 and I was having some success as a talent agent in the Philadelphia/ New York market.  After a fairly profitable series of seminars with New York acting coaches and casting directors I decided to treat myself to something I had long wanted.

Maybe it was because I spent too many years in a business focused on appearance or my own crazy insecurities, who knows?  But, I had always hated my ‘pot belly’.  Mind you I was a size six on a bad day!  Ahh, the wisdom of hindsight.

In any case… I got a referral for a plastic surgeon and arranged a consult.  She told me I was a text book case.  My flabby belly was hereditary and an easy fix with a little lipo and minor tuck.  So easy it could be done as an outpatient in her office which had a small surgical-center.

I was all in!  I arrived at 8am and out before 1pm.  I don’t remember a lot about it except going into shock as the anesthesia wore off.  They got me through that wrapped me up and sent me home.  Getting in and out of the car was excruciating!

We had a guest bedroom on the first floor which was a life saver.  The incision on my stomach wasn’t the two inch one she had promised, no mine went hip bone to hip bone.  It was two full weeks before I could move without pain.

After things started to heal I noticed a large hard lump in the middle of my belly.  When I went back for the follow-up exam she told me it was scar tissue and would go away.  To help it along she injected something that felt like rice krispies popping in there and did little to ease the lump.  It has been eighteen years and I still have the lump and a very ugly scar all the way across my abdomen.

So what’s the lesson here?  When it comes to something that involves cutting you in any way or a procedure that’s very new DON’T DO IT.  Wait and see how it progresses.  Find people who are happy with their results.  Research the doctor!  We have so many resources now that weren’t available in ’93.

When you see celebrities who barely resemble their former selves and you know they can afford the best what chance do we regular folks have? (Insert Joan Rivers joke here) It’s scary.  I’m fortunate to be able to hide the botched job I have to live with.  Can’t imagine if it had been my face!

I remember an older model I worked with back in the day who literally interviewed every plastic surgeon up and down the east coast looking for the perfect one.  She found him too.  He won her over by explaining what a good face lift should look like.

He told her to lie down on her back and then handed her a mirror.  “This is what you should look like,” he said, “not pulled up but relaxed and natural.”  Go ahead, try it.  It makes perfect sense to me, but I still think I’ll pass.

After she told me this story she said, “And you know what else I learned from that little exercise?  NEVER be on top during sex!”  I’m sure I spewed my coffee all the way across the office at that remark.  It’s hilarious but truly something to think about!

I’ll admit, when they invent a vacuum device that fits on top of your head and gently pulls everything back where it used to be, I’m in!  Until then I’ll get by the best I can with what I’ve got.

Where do you stand on this subject?  Any stories to tell?  Do share!

photo image from freakingnews.com

In early December Maggie gave birth to a perfectly healthy boy.  They named him James.  She was amazed how easily the time had flown with this pregnancy.   Yet she didn’t argue with her doctor when he suggested they insure she wouldn’t have another and swore him to secrecy.  Grady would not agree with anything interfering with God’s will but she felt six pregnancies in ten years with only four healthy living children was a sign.

With Elizabeth in school Maggie could devote more time to the baby.  Jewel, who was now ten, was quite capable of handling much of the housework and Charles could be helpful but she didn’t feel her two sons would have any common interests with an eight year age difference.

Life was very routine in Maggie’s little world.  She was content.  She had her dear sister Dottie nearby and a strong church community around her.  Some days she couldn’t believe her good fortune.

A typical week began on Sunday, the Lord’s Day, with church in the morning.  Sometimes Grady would preach though he was only a Deacon.  He wanted his own church one day but their financial reality kept him in carpentry and even that was becoming scarce.  He traveled further outside of town these days than he liked but you had to go where the work was.

They always went to Sunday and Wednesday evening Prayer Meetings, and he made sure the children were involved in Youth Group and Choir.  Essentially church was the only life outside of home and school for his children.  Over time this created some rebellion.

Five years passed quickly and Jewel was becoming a young woman who resented having every moment of her life dictated.  She began to find ways of circumventing the status quo which usually involved her younger sister covering for her.  Elizabeth didn’t mind because she was rebellious by nature and not happy with all church all the time.  They were in different stages of a search for forbidden fruit.

Maggie was onto them.  She heard the older church ladies buzzing about seeing Jewel with a boy on the other side of town and decided to do some detective work of her own. 

One late summer evening when the girls were preparing to leave for choir practice she decided to follow them.  She dropped the boys at Dottie’s house and went to church.  She peered in the window of the parish hall and was relieved to see both girls.  Maybe the old biddies were wrong, she thought.

She’d gotten the boys home and was putting James to bed when she heard the front door.  “I’m in here girls!” she hollered, certain neither suspected her of spying.

“It’s just me mother.” Elizabeth replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Maggie asked.

“Mr. Bradshaw asked her to stay and work on a song for Sunday,” Was her reply.

Maggie found nothing wrong with that.  She knew Jewel had a beautiful voice and Grady would be very proud if she had a solo at church next Sunday.

The three youngest were tucked in before Jewel came home.  Maggie was again suspicious.

“Why are you so late young lady?”

“Didn’t Elizabeth tell you Mr. Bradshaw asked me to stay and learn a song?” Jewel asked.

“Two hours ago,” Maggie said.  “That’s an awfully long time and it’s late for a school night.”

She noticed a flush to Jewel’s cheeks and knew something had been going on besides singing.  “I believe I’ll have your father look into this with Mr. Bradshaw.”

As Jewel turned to head for the bedroom she said, “Oh mother! Don’t be ridiculous!  Why should daddy bother Mr. Bradshaw over a late choir practice?”

“Because it’s his daughter and his business so don’t get sassy with me girl.”

The bedroom door slammed sharply.  Maggie had to find a way to share her suspicions with Grady without having him fly off the handle.  She knew he would get to the bottom of it but also knew he ruled with a hickory switch. 

Grady would often line them up and give them the lecture, “This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you…” before he started the beatings.  Jewel was always the toughest.  She could have blood running down her legs and never let him see a tear drop. 

Maggie was very concerned about how this might play out.  The next Sunday Grady went to see Mr. Bradshaw after services. 

Bobby Bradshaw was a nice man about the same age as Maggie.  He’d moved to town from Marietta Georgia the year before.  He told everyone he taught choir in a high school there but they changed the program and left him searching for work.  Silver Creek seemed like a nice town and he heard they needed a choir director in the church.

Grady promised Maggie he wouldn’t even talk to Jewel about this incident until he spoke to Mr. Bradshaw first.  Jewel wasn’t sure what to expect when he came home.  She was prepared for the worst and told Elizabeth they would probably all get a beating and it was her own fault.

Maggie had kept the Sunday meal warm waiting for Grady.  She too was afraid it would be an ugly afternoon with no one interested in food when he was finished.  To her amazement Grady was in a good mood.

Jewel sat at the table making eye contact with no one.  She listened to her father recounting his conversation with Mr. Bradshaw barely able to swallow a bite of food.

He told them what a great guy Bobby was and how he went on about Jewel’s voice.  “He wants her to have a solo every week and he’s going to work extra hard to help her do well.  I think that’s very nice of him Jewel and you better pay attention.”

Maggie looked at Jewel and knew it wasn’t her voice Mr. Bradshaw was interested in.

Every year she would take me shopping for a new Easter outfit and it always meant a head to toe look including the hat and spring coat, new patent leather Mary Jane’s and ruffled socks (at least until I was ten).

I’ve decided to continue the series I started last year called Georgia on My Mind.  It grew out of my first attempt at memoir many years ago.  As I started writing about my life it turned into my grandmother’s life story. I can’t explain why.  Perhaps it speaks to the deep connection we always had and more similarities than I ever thought about.

I realize many of you are new here so I’m including the links to the first two of this series.  I hope you enjoy this bit of Historical Fiction.  Most is from facts and dates, the rest from family lore.

The posts won’t be consecutive but I will categorize them under Georgia on My Mind and if you’re enjoying the stories, which I hope you will, you’ll read more and I will welcome your comments.  Please pardon the irregular print. I had some problems due to the recent move here.  The content is the same and that’s all that matters.

She had an interesting and challenging life my dear Mamaw.  Married at fourteen to a man of twenty who met her the day she was born in rural Georgia.

Despite surviving the Great Depression and family tragedies they had sixty-two wonderful years together.  This is their photo at their fiftieth anniversary.  They have always been the answer to a question I often hear after someone learns of my dysfunctional childhood… “How did you ever turn out normal?”

I wanted to post this today and give those who haven’t read the first two posts a chance to catch up.  I’ll have the third installment for you on Monday.  Have a great weekend!

Georgia on My Mind/1

Georgia on My Mind/2

We’ve been vacationing in Ocean City, NJ for over thirty-eight years.  It began with weekends when we first lived in the Philadelphia area and gradually progressed to two weeks every summer even after we moved seven hours away.  With all the moving we’ve done Ocean City became the comfortable constant in our life.  It was always like coming home.

When we moved back to Philly in ’92 it was great to be close enough for day and weekend trips again.  The town hasn’t changed much over the years and we like that.

Ocean City was founded in 1879 as a Methodist retreat.  That conservative ethos remains to this day.  It has always been a dry town, meaning no bars or liquor stores allowed.  Until 1986 there were Blue Laws that forbid businesses to open on Sunday.

I have to admit it didn’t bother me all that much having Sundays for quiet time with family and no one begging to visit an arcade or ice cream shop. The ‘dry’ aspect didn’t bother us either. 

Fortunately there are huge liquor stores at the mouth of each bridge going into Ocean City.  Our kids believed they couldn’t cross the bridge into OC without a case of beer on their laps. 

In 2000 we bought a house in Ocean City.  Best investment we’ve ever made.  We’ve never objected to the law forbidding alcohol sales.  We bring our own. There’s a referendum to change that law, just a bit, on the ballot in November. 

The restaurant association of OC has been fighting to allow BYOB, which to most means Bring Your Own Bottle but to the opponents means Beware Ye Of Blasphemy.  There is a lot of Armageddon rattling going on.

Back to the accident…

When we bought our house in March of 2000 we enjoyed as much time there as possible and looked forward to enjoying the fall because we could.  Rentals normally run from Memorial Day to Labor Day so often you miss the sweetest time of year.

On a warm Sunday in October we were relaxing on the porch sipping wine and enjoying the quiet long into the night with our son and daughter-in-law.  There were only five cars visible for blocks and three of them were ours. It was heaven!  Around midnight we finally gave in and went to bed.

At 2:00am we heard a crash and a car alarm.  Dave sat up and said, “Someone’s breaking into your car!”  I said, “This car doesn’t have an alarm.”  (I had just gotten it four days before and driven it only twice.)  It was an older VW Cabriolet. 

“Oh shit! It’s my car!” he yelled as we got up and ran for the porch.

At first glance through my groggy eyes I thought, “No, both cars are here, no one stole them.”  Then I realized my car wasn’t where I’d parked it and Dave’s was on the neighbor’s sidewalk!

A neighbor came running over and told us she’d seen the car that hit us because he stopped to assess his damages before running/driving away.  The cops found him by her description and following the oil trail.

He was a seventeen year old local kid who had just left a party around the corner and was too drunk to handle the turn onto our street. 

The point is this… Ocean City is not a ‘dry’ town and never has been.  We prefer to drink at home on our porch and not have to worry about driving.  Most of our neighbors do too.

When we want to go out for a nice dinner however we have to hire a cab and go to the mainland.  There’s the rub for the restaurants in OC.  Fine dining never survives long because most people who appreciate a great meal prefer having a nice glass of wine with it.

The conservatives in OC believe this will cause more drinking in town.  They refuse to admit it goes on all the time and not just with those of legal drinking age. 

I would not like to see bars or a liquor store in OC.  I don’t believe the restaurant association wants that either.  They just want a fair shot at competing with restaurants on the mainland and I think that’s fair.

I will be happy to walk to a restaurant in the summer with a bottle of wine and keep the money in our town rather than take it elsewhere.

Have you experienced a dry town?  I hope you haven’t had two cars totaled at once but if so please share!

Have you ever been so grateful you felt your heart would burst from your chest?  I’m having that experience at the moment because of you, the lovely people who read this blog, and the reception you’ve given the new design.

It’s so spacious and beautiful in here, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I won’t make you take your shoes off or anything.  Everyone should feel right at home here and judging from the numbers this week I feel you do. 

As a matter of fact the brilliant designer, Susie Riley, told me I have the most loyal readers she’s ever encountered.  Again… my heart is bursting from my chest with gratitude for each and every one of you!

We will continue to fine-tune as we go along and I welcome any suggestions you may have to make things better.  We’ve put a survey on the side bar that will give us more insight.  I hope you’ll take a moment to give me some feedback.

I’ve written many times about gratitude.  I can honestly say gratitude changed my life.  Thanks to Sarah Ban Breathnach’s book, Simple Abundance, and a nudge from Oprah, I started a Gratitude Journal in 1997.

Things weren’t particularly rosy that winter and as all humans are wont to do I was kind of wallowing in anger and self-pity.  The concept of the Gratitude Journal is to create a shift in your thinking.  Focus on what is right in your world instead of what’s not.

So I began trying to come up with five things to be grateful for at the end of each day.  If you’ve never done this you might be surprised at how difficult it can be.

Thank God for my dogs because they were on the list every single day and if it was a really crappy day I would list them separately.  There was always breathing to fall back on… waking… sunshine… you get the idea.

Gradually I began to recognize the truly meaningful things.  My kids and good friends (sometimes they are one and the same)… music…walking in the city…art…laughter.

At the end of the year I wrote this:

It has been an enlightening year.  A huge growth year in so many ways.  I’m so hopeful and excited for the new year.  I’ve rediscovered my art, my true love!  I’m learning my worth and appreciating ME.  I feel at home in the city and I’m so happy we are here!  Thank God for our home and all the blessings in it.

Here’s the interesting part.  The things that had me wallowing in anger and self-pity hadn’t all gone away.  Many of those issues hung around for a few more years.  The difference was in how I experienced them.  They didn’t consume me any longer because I was always looking for the silver lining.

When you consciously focus on what is right with your life instead of all the things that aren’t you begin to feel a paradigm shift in your world.

If you’ve never experienced this I wholeheartedly encourage you to give it a try.  As an incentive I’m offering you your own Gratitude Journal for $10.99, that’s a 25% discount.  It’s available in the new online store in your choice of three of my designs. 

You have all been mentioned in my gratitude journal many times for over two years now.  This week has been especially heartwarming for me and I want you to know you mean the world to me.

I hope you’ll share this with your friends and help me spread the gratitude!

Now, tell me how you feel about journaling… gratitude… and anything else you’d like to add to the conversation.