Just Today

Be reverent before 

the dawning day.

Do not think of what
will be in a year, 
or in ten years.  

Think of today.

~ Romain Rolland,

Nobel Laureate

One of the things that

I love about living

across the street from

a large body of water

is the daily show of

sunrises and sunsets.

They are nearly

always magnificent.

Especially in the

winter season.

I'm not sure if it

is the reflection from

the snow and ice, the

angle of the earth to

the sun this time of 

year or what, exactly, 

makes the dawn and

dusk so lovely.

It just is.

I appreciate the wee 

hours most when I'm not 
rushing off to a pre-dawn 
exercise class, important
as they are.  On exercise
mornings I'm barely awake
and am simply focused on
getting ready and out
the door.

But the other 
mornings......

The ones where I

am the first to rise,

the house dark and

still....

Those are the days

when I truly feel

reverent before the

dawn.

Ordinary routines that

remind me of my

extraordinary blessings.

Flipping on lights

here and there, I'm very

thankful that we live

in a house with electricity.

So many in this
world do not.

Turning on the fireplace

to ease the night's chill,

I am grateful for this

warm shelter.

So many suffer on
the streets.

Tossing the first load of

laundry in the washer, I

still have to pinch myself,

after all of these years,

to believe that I have a

husband and children

to care for.

So many are alone.

Grinding the coffee

beans, putting water in

the machine, I move

softly around the kitchen,

enjoying a few more

minutes of peace 
and silence.  

I think how lucky we are

 to simply turn a tap that

delivers pure cold or
hot water.

There are places on this
earth where many poor
souls do not have this
basic necessity.

I imagine all the men and

women who labor on the

coffee farms to bring forth

a rich harvest of beans.

I'm so grateful for
their hard work.

At this time of day, I

don't worry about next

year or ten years 
from now.  

I am just here, with my

coffee, with my thoughts

and my gratitude and the

blossoming day, 
unfolding

like the gift that 
it always is.

Thank you for sharing

it with me, today.

xo

Suzanne  

The Dress

As I pulled out of

the Goodwill donation

garage last week, the

peach chiffon dress,

nestled in its dry cleaning

bag, lay across a heap

of clothes and pillows

in one of those mega

storage bins.

My heart clenched.

My eyes pricked.

I took a deep breath.

via privetandholly on Instagram

And as the sunshine

on that bright January

day beamed through

my windshield,

I

smiled.

And gave thanks.

Thanks for the 95

year-old lady who

danced in that peach

chiffon dress at my

brother's wedding,

when she was 88.

Although she no

longer remembers her

dancing days, I, her

granddaughter, know

that until the last few

years, she danced 

through every decade

of her sweet life.

{GiGi on the right; bestie Mildred on the left. }

GiGi's parents scrimped

during her teen years, the

time of the Great Depression, 

so that she could have 

dancing lessons.

It wasn't peach chiffon

in those days, but fabric

donated and sewn up

by her best friend's older

sister, that she wore to

recitals.

{Third from the left}

When she graduated

from high school and her

dad saw the ad in the

Cleveland Plain Dealer 

for an audition with

Donn Arden's Models, a

traveling vaudeville troupe

similar to the Rockettes,

off she went in her 

homemade costume....

And made the cut.

An exciting new chapter

in her life unfolded.

{She later discovered that

the other dancers thought 

her audition outfit was

so funny....black velvet

shorts and a little top.}

Even after she became

a wife and a mother and

hung up her professional

dancing shoes ~ 

that's how

it was in those days ~

Gigi still loved to dance.

It wasn't uncommon to

see her do a little two-step

when she was really excited

about something : )

Well into her 80's, she

always told me that she

was going to learn

the tango,

someday.

In her golden years,

Gigi and a friend joined

Arthur Murray Dance

Studio for instruction.

Which is where the

peach chiffon dress 

first

came on the scene.

She wore it to a recital,

with a sparkly brooch

pinned to the bodice.

Oh, that dress just

floated.

She was so enamored

of its style that she kept

it in her closet for over 20

years, until it reappeared

for my little brother's 

wedding.

The rumpled chiffon

looked a bit forlorn

on that Goodwill pile.

But as she herself 

used to say,  

All good things have 

to come to an end.

{With the groom!}

Like her dancing days.

And the mind that was

able to remember them.

And the peach chiffon dress.

*****

Luckily, I still have

the brooch.

And her stories.

xo

Suzanne

Handling It

Hello!

Come on in.

Pour yourself a 

cup of coffee.

Pull your chair up

a little closer 

to the fire.

How has January

been treating you?

I was on my way

home, yesterday,

when the sunshine,

bouncing brilliantly

off the thick ice of

the lake, caught my

eye.

via Instagram Privetandholly

I pulled over to take

a photo with my phone,

uploading it to share

with my Instagram pals,

adding this caption:

These are popping up

all over Lake Minnetonka ~

ice fishing shacks.  Now

it really feels like winter!

That and 5 degrees F on

my dash.....

One of my IG friends,

who lives in Florida,

commented,

How do you handle that??!!

It never occurred to me

that I'd been handling

anything.

I have really come to

embrace winter.  A lovely,

fresh start.  Cozy times

inside punctuated by brisk

walks down the road, the

frosty marsh on one side

and the frozen lake on the

other.

Having spent most of

my January days ill with

flu, then stomach virus, I

am relishing the opportunity

to get outside and inhale

the piercingly cold air.

If you have never

experienced air this frigid,

it refreshes body, mind

and spirit like nothing else.

Clogged head, cough,

chills, nausea, I don't

handle very well.  But

winter in Minnesota?

Piece of cake.

Last night, while taking

Gracie out, I threw

my head back to take in

the gazillion stars overhead,

snug in my puffy coat

and Uggs....

And I thought of so

many people, out there

in this big old world,

who truly are just

handling it.

Chemo treatments

Job losses

Depression

Care taking

Military service

Deaths of loved ones

Natural disasters

Broken hearts

I bet you are sending

prayers or good thoughts

to someone who is

courageously handling it,

whatever their it is,

each and every day.

I know I am.

Makes a winter's day with

a high of -2 degrees F

seem like a walk in the

park.....

{Although even Gracie and

I aren't too keen to set out

on those days : ) }

So pour yourself another

cup of coffee.  Let's toast

to all the brave souls who

are, indeed, handling it,

each

and every

day.

I was thinking about
the word handle, and
 all the unavoidable
things that get handled.

"I'm sorry," I said.

~ Hazel, The Fault in Our Stars,
by John Green

xo

Suzanne

Just Words

At our house, the

holidays aren't really

behind us until we've

acknowledged the gifts

we received with a

thank you note.

With a cup of something

comforting, I settle

in at a table or desk to

carry out this familiar

ritual, jotting them

off until I've finished.

The kids tend to pen theirs

one at a time, between

homework and activities,

until they are all done.

Yes, I'm one of 

those moms.

Like my own mom.

Her mom and my dad's

mom were, as well.

As a child, even if I

absolutely loved the

 present I'd received

from a grandparent

or aunt or uncle, it was

difficult to understand

the big deal about

sending a thank you

note, especially if I'd

already expressed my

gratitude in person

or over the telephone.

They were just words.

But as I grew older

and thoughts flowed

more easily from heart

to hand, those words 

ceased

to be a chore.  

And as I continued to 

grow, I realized how

much it meant to the

recipient of my thank

you note to be given

a gift, of sorts, along

with my words.

The gift of time.

Time I'd taken to pick out

just the right note card,

or crisp stationery ~

or even the time it took

to rip out a page of my

spiral notebook.

Time I'd sat for a moment,

my thoughts lingering

on the gift, as well as

the giver.

Time I'd taken to commit

my reflections to paper 

in pen or pencil, then 

stamped and addressed 

the envelope. 

Time I'd taken to trudge 

to the mailbox, inserting

the note and then gently

lifting the little red flag 

on the side so the mailman

would be sure to stop.

You really don't appreciate

the gift of time until you've 

acquired some mileage 

of your own : )

My dad's mom, Mie-Mie,

was an amazing correspondant

and one of my best role

models for connecting

through the mail.

She was a champion letter

writer and remembered all the

birthdays and anniversaries

of her friends and family.

All eight of her grandchildren

received cards for different

holidays, such as Halloween,

Valentine's Day and Easter.

Her mailbox was 

stuffed

at Christmastime.

I didn't post a lot of cards

until I went to college. 

Then, it gave me great joy 

to send greeting cards 

 to my grandparents and

my Great Aunt Helen, 

who lived alone.

I was certain a note in

the mail would make

them smile....

Because the ones I was

lucky enough to receive

 in my own little mailbox 

made me smile.

I'm not sure if any of

them would have 

considered e-cards

or e-mail thank yous

as substitues for 

the real deal.

Somehow it doesn't

have the same 

heart.

When my kids were

in elementary school,

I always wrote a thank

you note at the end of

the school year to 

their teachers.

I wrote an especially

heartfelt one to my

daughter's third grade

teacher, Mrs. Smith,

who she spoke of 

glowingly

every.single.day and

who truly stoked her 

love of learning.

On the last day, 

Mrs. Smith, young and

eager and full of energy,

stopped me in the warm

June sunshine to say,

I'll treasure your letter

forever.  It's the reason

I went into teaching.  It

is the best gift I could

ever receive.

And to think there was

a time when I thought of

a thank you note as

just words.

xo

Suzanne

PS:  Thank you for all the

love that you poured on my

dear little Cousin, Soup, in

my last post.  We are still

waiting to hear from Carrie,

but I truly believe it's just a

matter of when!