Daily writing prompt

Who are your favorite people to be around?

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My favorite people are the ones who make me forget I was ever worried about anything five minutes ago.

I have one friend who picked me up for a road trip. She was coming from Utah, and I hadn’t seen her in a couple of years. On our way out, we stopped at Taco Bell. Within the first minute of sitting down, we were laughing to tears, almost choking on our first bites. I have no idea why we were laughing and it doesn’t matter. That’s kind of the point. Don’t get me wrong, our time is not always laughter, but it is always cherished. She has a way of making me feel chosen. 

I like feeling welcomed, not tolerated. And I try to return that gift just as freely. With my people, we can arrive as‑is.  I never want to feel like a burden, and I don’t want them to feel that way with me either. It settles something deep in the nervous system. Shoulders drop. Breath evens out. It’s therapy on a friendly budget.

One comes to mind. She has always been there.  She is my root friend. She shows up offline and on. She even reads everything I write, which is its own kind of loyalty. We can be lazy lions together. We both like chilling and visiting, giggling and pondering. We share small talk sometimes, but we can go into the deep waters too. That works because we both love swimming, literally and conversationally. We don’t have to keep a conversation going, and yet somehow, we always do.

I love being in the company of interesting people who don’t mind questions, giving and receiving. It feels like a privilege when my people share the good, the bad, and the everyday in-between. The best friends are the ones who stay curious about your life and invite you to stay curious about theirs too.

I have one friend close by, and we are heading out on a road trip soon. She is definitely a keeper. Why? Like my others, she is someone I admire. She is steady where I can be scattered. Thoughtful where I can overthink. She challenges me in a way that feels strengthening, not shrinking. We laugh, we plan, we detour. And I already know the miles will go quickly because that’s what good company does.

As lovely as my people are, no one is perfect. We get on each other’s nerves from time to time. It is inevitable. Give two humans long enough and someone will chew too loud, overthink too much, have a tone, hit a nerve while teasing, or try to instruct when no instruction was requested. It happens. That is just part of the package. The trick is loving the whole package anyway, even the fine print.

While today I’m shining a light on my gal pals, my gratitude always stretches wide enough to hold my amazing Mama, my darling, scrappy daughters, and my beloved grands too. With them and my siblings too, there is never enough shared time.

I am blessed with each and every one of them, but I also like my time. Where sharing takes a rest. Hanging out with me, myself, and I is where I spend most of my time. So, it is good, even healthy, to enjoy my own company. And when I get on my own nerves, I consider calling one of my favorite people so I can get on theirs too… but I try to pace myself. Even favorites need recovery time.

Daily writing prompt

Write about your approach to budgeting.

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Stock photo. The MiMi Clause, however, is very real.

I always start out very intentional with budgeting. I make a plan and by golly I am going to stick with it this time. No budging allowed. I am a resolute warrior on a mission to save my pocketbook.

And then one of the grands says, “Mimi…”

That’s it. That’s the whole turning point.

The budget doesn’t gently rearrange itself. It collapses. Suddenly there are snacks, craft supplies, an emergency stuffed animal situation, and something called “just this once” that appears repeatedly. I’ve come to accept that my spreadsheets operate under a Grandchildren Clause.

It’s not poor planning. It’s Mimi math.

No obligations or expectations required.

The day before, I shared time catching up with friends and family, so today I am intentionally less social.

I wake up early, somewhere between 4 and 5 a.m. I start reading, and quickly peace enters my inner hemisphere. The morning settles into a cozy, calm cadence. Time passes slower than usual. I take a long, sweet breath, inhaling the richness of the early morning deliciousness.

It’s time to write, but not in bed or at my cozy writing desk. I venture outside and sit at the table in my backyard, opening the umbrella to protect me and my laptop.

Time passes again, unhurried, like floating down a slow-moving body of water, refreshing the senses as it moves.

Before walking the dog, I do a little lifting, giving the muscle group of choice a good what for. Then I look over at her, patiently waiting.

“Okay, Dolly, it’s that time.”

Before I even grab her leash, she’s twirling around and around with excitement.

“Me too, Dolly. Me too.”

When we get back, the morning is still here, easing toward the cusp of early afternoon.

Before I settle in for a rewarding Netflix binge, I go back outside and sit still. I close my eyes and clear my thoughts of any residual what-ifs or to-dos. No fretting. No yearning. Just staying in rhythm with the day.

Time to lie down in a bed made exactly right for me. Pillows fluffed. Cozy jammies. Tasty food and beverage. Animals nestled close, remote in hand.

Daily writing prompt

How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?

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I am very much inside the weather of my life right now. So many things are happening at once, and many are rocking my world, shaking me up much like a smoothie in a blender.

Mama has cancer, and while I know the circle of life dictates this natural occurrence, not cancer specifically but the body failing in general, it doesn’t change one thing about coping through it. Since we got the diagnosis, I have been going through pictures and lamenting with excessive tears. Don’t get me wrong, she is a trooper, a strong, stubborn gal who might just beat this. I do accept that it is slow growing. However, they think she probably has had it undiagnosed for years.

How has this affected my view on life? Right now, I am kind of frozen, trying to get through it one day at a time. I can’t imagine what I would do without her. I suppose most everyone has wondered about this since the dawn of time.  I am concerned I won’t be able to continue. I know that is too deep and scary to say but she has been my world for my entire life; each breath belongs to her in a way. So how has it changed my perspective? To be continued, I suppose.

Yesterday, my brother’s 14-year-old granddaughter was rushed to the hospital.  The doctors are guessing that she probably had the flu or influenza, and somehow that caused her heart to stop, thus losing oxygen.  Today, they did more tests to verify what they already know. Her brain is dead, and if the final test tomorrow confirms it once again, they will turn off her life support.

I am crying now, not just for the loss of this sweet young child, but also because my brother and sister-in-law are completely devastated. Gracie, her dad, and her sibling have lived with them since she was born. Ouch. I cannot even fathom it and pray I never have to.

How has this significant life event influenced my perspective on life? To be honest, to be continued as well.

About a month ago, my oldest sister lost much of her home to a fire. She is devastated and unable to even talk about things. She was already feeling fragile about Mom, and this has completely taken her strength.

How has her loss affected my perspective? Again, to be found.

I am in a season of loss, even if not directly.

Even at work, I feel like I am not on solid ground.  Big changes, and I am uncertain if my job is secure. I need it desperately. It seems like everything is shifting and that I may have to adjust elsewhere.

However, I may just need to calm down, give myself mercy, and hope my employers, who once seemed to value my service, still feel the same way. I don’t know, and to be honest, I need to move forward, as this constant second guessing slows down my productivity.

I am rambling today. This piece feels very “Dear Diary.” So dear reader, if you are still with me, thank you for sitting with me for a longer time today.

Even in the middle of these stormy times, there have been divine moments of light.

My oldest granddaughter moved in with me. She needed a new place to thrive, and that is exactly what she has done. I could not be more thrilled. One of my daughters said, “Mom, you should flex. It is because of you.” I told her thank you, but it is because of her, and besides that, we are a team.

In fact, her aunt, who directs a community theatre, has made my granddaughter the stage manager. This has helped her build confidence. Her mom and dad could not be prouder of her turnaround and plan to visit in June.

How has having my new roomie changed my perspective? Hmmm…still not coming up with anything.

Let’s move on to writing. I have made significant changes in this arena, ones that have me tickled pink. I am working on my first book. I am entering submissions pieces, and I now have my very own page. I keep repeating this, but my goodness, I love having a writing home.

Can we call this an event? Gosh, yes, as it feels like a holiday worth celebrating. I think it is such a blessing. I am so excited. Will I succeed? Am I good enough? Hey, I do feel confident I am going to finish the book, and that is a huge win.

I have created this page, and regardless of where it goes, I am thankful for it. I am learning the craft more, connecting with fellow writing peeps, and on and on. Writing is the thing getting me through these days lately.

I can’t put my finger on how all of this has changed my perspective. I have always been acutely aware of the fleeting moments we all have, and for the most part, I have appreciated the ephemeral specks of time. However, lately, not quite as much.

I wonder, as things seem to be changing so rapidly, have I lost my ability to live in the moment, appreciating simple abundance?

I am realizing that I may not be able to clearly answer how these significant life events have changed my perspective just yet, because I am still inside the change. Everything feels unsettled and tender. What I do know is that writing has been with me all along, but it feels especially present right now, almost as a compassion I didn’t know I would need in this particular season. I can’t help but believe God nudged me toward this space, knowing full well it would help carry me through. I may not have clarity. I may not have perspective or answers right now, but I have words, dear ones, to tend to. For today, like my evolving perspectives, this is enough.

Daily writing prompt

What do you complain about the most?

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My first thought is that I don’t want to complain.

I giggle, because in my mind I immediately start complaining about this particular prompt. So… off to a great start.

Let’s try again.

I complain about the weekend being over. You know the feeling, the Sunday night blues. Nooooooo, I don’t want to go back to work, even though my commute is literally just across the hall. I feel like saying, you can’t make me, while stomping my feet like a dramatic toddler with principles.

Then reality clears its throat.

The response would be something along the lines of: You are absolutely right. You don’t have to work. We also don’t have to pay you. Now get to getting, you complaining subordinate.

And just like that, Monday wins again.

Still, I complain. Briefly. Theatrics included.

Because some rituals are sacred.

Daily writing prompt

What books do you want to read?

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This question feels a bit like being asked what food I want to eat. Holy moly, where do I even begin. Peanut butter, fruit, BBQ protein chips, so many good options.

The best answer to this question might be almost all of them.

From the classics, like My Cousin Rachel, to anything by Nicholas Sparks, to a longtime favorite genre of mine, cozy mysteries.

I’m currently reading one now, The Kidnapped Bride by Steve Higgs. I love his simplicity and humor. I don’t think I’ve ever read his work without laughing, which feels like a small gift every time.

Sometimes my first go-to is to write, when what I actually need is to balance that impulse with reading, and lots of it.

My writing journey has nudged me further down the road of reading even more. Reading widely, soaking up different voices, rhythms, and styles is one of our greatest resources as writers. It has helped me, and continues to help me, decide what kind of writer I want to be, besides a prolific one.

Gosh, this is tough.

I could imagine working with animals like dolphins, elephants, bears, and lions. Or being a paid writer. Or even working with Dolly Parton, doing whatever she wanted me to do. The truth is, I am a dreamer with no bounds. I should have been a philosopher, as I tend to ponder things deeply and often. In an ideal world, I would be an independent thinker with flexible hours, able to work from home or travel, while still getting the work done.

If I am honest, my dream job would offer meaningful work, great hours, and enough flexibility to live well. In that sense, I already have much of what I once dreamed of. A lot about my current job feels tailor made for me.

That does not mean every day is perfect. Some days are a nightmare, though those are rare. And while I do not make dream earnings, I do have stability, purpose, and sometimes room to breathe.

Overall, I am grateful. Because often, it feels like I am living the dream, one grounded in responsibility and possibility. 

And Dolly, I am still waiting for your call. Shoes on. Bag packed.

I really appreciate this prompt because it is something I have been thinking about a lot lately.

For me, the answer comes easily, and it is one I am guilty of myself. Single-use plastics, things like Keurig cups and water bottles. I know I want to be a good steward of my home, my body, and our earth. And yet, time and again, I choose convenience over the more intentional care required to do better.

That choice says something uncomfortable. It suggests that caring for us as a whole does not always weigh as much as my desire for the quick and easy way. I am not proud of that, but I recognize it. And I am far from alone. The cost of these choices is mounting as many of us make them, often without much pause.

Perhaps this small confession does more than simply acknowledge the problem. Maybe it nudges me toward action instead of just consideration. Yes, it would be nice if things that harm us more than they help us had never been invented. Just as it would be nice if I more consistently chose alternatives that do not add to the growing burden single-use plastics bring.

For now, I am noticing the tension, between what I value and what I reach for, and allowing that awareness to linger. Sometimes, that is where change begins.

It was my granddaughter’s performance. She was twelve, sharing the stage with around twenty other kids, ages five to seventeen. The play already had me feeling warm and fuzzy when, right after their final bow, my granddaughter suddenly called out,

“Today is my biggest supporter Mimi’s birthday. Will you join us in singing happy birthday to her?”

What?! Oh my goodness!

As all those stars began to sing, joined by the audience, the love inside me could not be contained; It flowed down my face in pure joy.