I’ve been thinking a lot about paper, pens, planning, and journaling. Honore and I have been chatting about format and process. I joined a Planner Day earlier this month which was super helpful. (** adding to clarify that I took the Planner Day class but I’m not signing up for Journal Club). I follow some lovely Instagram feeds which inspire a little and perhaps intimidate too much.
This weekend I found this post which reminded me that I still have the last steps from the planner day class to complete.
I am settling in with the idea of having different notebooks for different purposes. All I need now is to do some habit making that has me sitting down to put words on paper every (or at least most) days.
Any hints or tips?
look like a bunch of random thoughts.
This weekend was beautiful. Crisp blue skies with enough chill in the air to pull out a shawl or a sweater. I stopped between coming and going on Saturday to take a walk on the trail and was thrilled to see some lovely piles of leaves.
I am beginning to think about one little word for 2018. And December Daily? I think I tried this last year and didn’t get very far. And I am always thinking about notebooks and planners and trying so hard to imagine using up my supplies (maybe because I was helping my daughter pack for a move recently).
Last night I was traveling down some rabbits holes and I found a post with a great question – how did you name your blog. I have had a number of blogs over the years. But after I watched mom lose her stories to Alzheimer’s, I decided to create a place to write down my own stories.
Now I am so curious about some of the lovely blogs I read. What is the story behind the name?
Tuesday is an odd day. It is not the first, not the middle, not the one right before the weekend. It is just Tuesday (except for those weeks when we have a Monday holiday). This year my weekly schedule has shifted and a few regularly scheduled activities have been moved away from Tuesdays. So now I look forward to Tuesday. I know the busy-ness of Monday is behind me and I can sink into the tasks for the week. And I know there is still plenty of time before I need to shift into “finish it up” mode so I can clear off my desk top before the weekend.
Happy Tuesday. Hope you fine a #tinytinymoment to pause and enjoy.
When I was a girl, I usually ate cereal or toast for breakfast. Pop Tarts and chocolate instant breakfast were a treat that arrived in my high school years. On Sunday mornings, dad would make scrambled eggs. The smell drifted under my door and I would climb deep under the bed-clothes. I did not like eggs.
In college, I moved into an apartment and found that smelly things like eggs and canned tuna were very reasonably priced. Suddenly they became staples in my diet. But green things – no. I just could not understand my friends who were choosing to become vegetarians. When I would go home for family dinners, my mother shook her head as I pushed the peas and beans around on my plate without eating a bite.
If only mom could see me now. My day begins with green – green juice, poached eggs on a bed of kale or broccoli, spinach, asparagus, edamame. I love breakfast.
I have had wonderful breakfasts in cities from San Francisco to Edinburgh. In Uganda we learned that the chickens are so poorly fed that the yolks do not turn yellow. I settled for oatmeal and bananas. I had a disappointing breakfast at a little, highly recommened cafe in New York city last summer. But my favorite breakfast day is Sunday, when there is a bit more time before we leave the house. I pull out my simple, white bowl and tops my greens with bacon, kimchee, and a perfectly poached egg. And somehow, I don’t even notice the smell anymore.
Linking up today with Think Write Thursday.
I have taken time off running to allow an injury to heal. It has been hard. But I know it is best.
This weekend I started a 5k training plan, one that has me walking as much as running. It is also hard. But I am determined to stick with this and to be content with the process. A mile is a mile and one mile will lead to two and then three. But best of all, I am not having pain. That is a good thing.
I am going to be honest. I am struggling with Sunday mornings.
We will be heading to church soon and I am in need of an attitude adjustment. Things have not been rosy at church and I could easily stay away. But I heard a speaker this summer who said that these are the times we most need to be with our church community. So I am taking a cue from my daughter and will bring a journal along. I am planning to write down the scripture and names of songs and to take notes during the sermon. Perhaps I will find meaning. Perhaps there will be something that makes me think. Perhaps my heart will begin to soften. I am going today with a blank page and an expectation that words will nudge my attitude in a new direction. That is the power of words and writing.
I recently returned from a trip that was journaling worthy but I did very little writing. I was traveling with a group and I could not push myself to pull out my notebook in public. I was so aware of how awkward this felt and I wanted so much to write. Instead, I carried the little notepad from the hotel room and made notes here and there.
I want to get past this. I want to write in public. I want writing to be a known part of who I am, what I do. I will be working on this.