Mission in progress. . .

This painting is getting tedious but little by little I am beginning to feel the satisfaction of "mission accomplished."  Well, mission in the process of being accomplished, anyway.  When it comes to household upkeep, is it ever really all accomplished?  First of all, I don't like to paint.  Neither did Bob.  As a result, the painting chores were always put off or left undone and that was perfectly okay with both of us.  Sooner or later, one of us would "cave" and have a short-lived painting spree.  These days, I'm finding it somewhat more enjoyable by doing only small areas at a time.  That way, I'm finished for the day before it starts to wear on me.  It's not so much the actual painting that I dislike; it's all the prep work that I have no patience for and the dissemblance of normalcy that makes me twitchy. 

My options were to either continue marking time with my daily monologue consisting of: "I really should get at that one of these days" or I could begin this (painting-of-the-doors) journey the same as any other -- one step at a time; beginning with that all important first step, which is to start!  It was a tussle to conjure up that initial step but there is fulfillment now in what I have done having taken it.

What a time it was!  I cannot even begin to say where I have "been" during those peaceful, thought-filled hours.  I have reflected on the past, found contentment in the present and have contemplated the future.  Why, I have traveled randomly through time!  I smiled, I sang, I was quiet, and I cried.  It was a good "trip."   

I think I'll do the stairs next.  Or maybe the woodwork in the music room.  And the kitchen ceiling really needs to be done, too...but there's no way I'm doing that! 

Although, I do have one of those extension handles.......

Morning commute. . .

Create a picture slideshow

Secret anniversaries. . .

February 12th...birthdays...Bob's and Abraham Lincoln's.  Bob enjoyed saying, "All the great men were born on this day" and then he would chuckle.  I carry guilt from the several years that I postponed the baking of the carrot cake because I was "so busy."  I try not to dwell on those times, though, because I can't change the past.  Instead, I try to remember all those other years of birthday celebrating -- the laughter, the singing, Bob's predictable words of appreciation for his "favorite cake," the ceremonial blowing out of the candles (for the kids' benefit) and later on, the jokes about the likelihood of the Fire Department coming to investigate the smoke. 

This is a sweet, sad/happy day.  I will be going about my Sunday routine today, content in the fellowship of choir family and church folks   during worship, and taking genuine delight in our annual Valentine Coffee Hour afterward.  My heartstrings will be safely tucked away so that, unless I say so, no one will ever know how much of my joy comes from the private celebration of my journey's past, secret anniversaries of this date, February 12th...a day when some really great men were born.