Photographs

Gerry recently got a new DSLR camera and we took our first class last week. You know it's a good camera when you have to take a class to use it correctly. I have so much to learn, but spent a bit of time outside today playing around. The instructor said we would have to take 500 bad pictures before we started taking really good ones so I thought I better get started!

Celebrating!

Yesterday I finished the latest draft of my memoir! The sense of satisfaction I had coming out of Office Depot with the printed spiral-bound copy was like none other.  I feel that I have nailed the structure this time and fleshed out what I want to communicate with this book.  The value-add for me is that I have learned more about myself, gained a new perspective on certain circumstances, and have a greater sense of gratitude about my life. Not bad for more than a year's work!

I'm going to set the manuscript aside for a few weeks before beginning the next draft.  I had set a personal goal to finish this draft before the warm summer weather arrived. (Mother Nature, if you're reading this you can bring on the warm summer weather anytime now!  We have had enough rain, honest!)

I did some quiet personal celebrating yesterday afternoon in the form of enjoying a Carmel Macchiato while shopping for shoes.  Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

I'm doing additional celebrating in the form of a blog makeover.  I thought that the Velvet Room could use a bit of a lift, after all we all enjoy a new outfit now and then don't we?!  I hope you like the new look!
 

Value-Add

It’s a popular concept in business: Value Add. It refers a marketing strategy that offers something that increases the perceived value of a product in the eyes of the customer. It could be something like a rebate, free delivery of the purchased item, a guarantee, or loyalty rewards. It is a term that irritates me in the same way as many other marketing tactics that seem to assume limited-intelligence on the part of the customer.


This morning I accidentally stumbled upon an application for the term that I can relate to; I had my own value-add epiphany.

I started new morning routine a few weeks ago that I alluded to here. My body has been crying out to me of late, and I’ve been wise enough this time to listen and react to what I know I need to do for my physical and mental well-being. I need to stretch; I need gentle exercise; I need to move.

One step I have taken is to start a simple yoga stretching routine every morning. I have shied away from yoga in the past assuming it was some kind mystical practice that I wanted to part of in my life. I have found, however, that a simple routine in the morning has begun to satisfy the craving in my body for stretching. Perhaps it is coincidence but I find that I am more emotionally balanced and my thinking is clearer these days.

This morning I realized another benefit of my changed morning routine.

Last night Gerry and I were up later than normal as we attended our first photography class. Truth be told, I was struggling to stay away toward the end of the class. (A class that goes to 9:30pm? It must be geared toward the younger generation!) This morning when I heard the voice of the NPR news commentator at 4:45 the time I normally rise, I reached over and hit the snooze button a few times until I found the strength to rise from my fitful sleep and begin the day. Bottom line: no yoga routine this morning.

As I stood at the bathroom vanity this morning and leaned toward the mirror to apply makeup, I discovered eyes that were puffier and more bloodshot than they were the day before, and skin that seemed to sag just a little more than I remembered.

I realized that for the past few weeks I have taken time for myself in the morning before putting my face on for the rest of the world. Whether it is a result of the grounding and relaxation, or whether it’s because I have not been immediately beginning my morning ablutions when I rise, I look better by the time I get to the bathroom mirror.

The physical and emotional benefits yoga is providing me are wonderful. The value-add is that I see a fresher, more relaxed, and younger looking face in the mirror in the morning.

That works for me!

Mother's Hands

I have worn contact lenses since I was a teenager and few years ago I got reading glasses to wear over my contacts for seeing things close up. 

First thing in the morning when my eyes are naked, so to speak, without the benefit of a corrective lens of any kind I see some things clearest of all and sometimes what I see startles me. Like the other morning when I saw my hands and realized that they are no longer the hands of a young woman.

At first I was somewhat dismayed to find that my hands have aged along with the rest of my body. Fine lines crisscross the back at all angles; flesh that was once taut and firm is now softer and lies in soft folds at the base of my fingers; a bluish vein snakes a prominent path from one side to the other.

I recognized the hands as those of my mother. Mom was almost exactly four years older than I am today when she passed away. It has been twenty-five years since I saw her, I barely recall what her voice sounded like, yet I recognized her hands when I saw them that morning.

They were the hands that fed me, bathed me, caressed me, played with me, and even occasionally spanked me. They were the hands that cooked for our family, cleaned our home, painted our walls, mowed our lawn, and planted gladiola bulbs in the spring. They were the hands that made crumb cake, banana bread, peanut butter cookies, and heavy brandy-soaked Christmas cake. They were the hands that sewed dresses and knit mittens and scarves. They were the hands that poured peroxide on my skinned knees and held me when I cried. They were the hands that smelled like Jergens hand lotion.

They were the hands that held my mother’s head in them as she wept when she was told that my father had died. They were the hands that held mine and my sister’s when we walked to the front of the sanctuary to stand before his casket on that surreal day when he was laid to rest.

My hands, the hands of a woman who is no longer young, have their own story.  Tucked within the wrinkles and folds is the story of my life.  What point would there be in longing for the youthful hands I once hand or despairing over the changes that have taken place? 

After all, my hands are also the hands of a mother.

A Goal Without a Plan

Recently, I've had conversations someone about our respective five-year plans.  I have a five-year plan for certain areas of my life and I'm realizing that I need to put together a concrete plan for other areas as well. 

After all "A goal without a plan is just a wish" (Antoine de Saint-Exupery), right?

I happened to glance up at my magnetic poetry board today and noticed that I had formed sentence fragments about wishing for something.

I long to write but .....

I long to garden but ....

I long to read but ....

I long to believe but ....

What wishes or longings are whispering to you right now? What is the "but" that is holding you back from having them? What goals do you need to put in place today to help you move closer to obtaining them?