for me?

I ask you….

Who’s husband leaves for work, then comes back 8 minutes later with a beautiful Iced Latte?iced-coffee

Mine does!

Have I mentioned lately, what a lucky girl I am?

ummmm, that kind of man deserves some cookies.

I will be in the kitchen, baking for sure today!

Golly, I love that man.  (no, it’s not the caffeine talking, ha)


wake up 10


I live in the middle of gratitude, so, each morning, even before my feet touch the ground, I list off 10 things I am mighty grateful for. Some make the list daily, others change on a whim.


Boy Howdy,  I feel lucky & bathed in Grace to start fresh, every single day.


1.  Mr. Right

2.  four kids

3.  three grands20161023_152356_resized

4.  Sweet Liberty

5.  amazing, healthy, healing body

6.  cushy, lush, wonderful, bed

7.  remembering: ironing leaves between wax paperwax-paper-leaves

8.  fluffy, extra-large, soft socks

9.  morning letter waiting for me from Mr. Right

10.  coffee (duh, being honest)




sew grateful

Mary Walkley was 20 years old in 1863 when she passed away.   She was a seamstress in West London for a court dressmaker named Madame Elise.  This shop catered to the most fashionable ladies in London society.

From what I gather, she lived in deplorable conditions.  She worked/lived in a crowded house with 28 others.  In order to meet their exacting demands, the seamstresses worked from 6:30 am to 11:00 pm.  With very short dinner and tea breaks.  They slept two to very small beds.

The gowns and pieces of clothing they produced were breathtaking.  Beautiful, stunning, really pieces of art work.  Craftsmanship second to none.   The question is, would she have been an exquisite seamstress in a whimsical, light filled, large sewing room all to herself?

I raise my thimble up to Mary!  Here’s to you Mary and all that you created.  You are remembered.

20160920_145851_resized_2Yesterday, I spent a little time in my sewing room.  Adding a bit more whimsy.  I stenciled words above the window.  I made “curtains”.  I used a branch that had been a curtain rod in our old dining room & lavender that I just harvested from our garden.

I am mighty grateful to have my very own room to sew, quilt, embroider, stitch to my hearts 20160920_151104_resized_2content.  I have no deadline.  I can stop for dinner or tea whenever I choose.  Oh yes, I can and have stayed up until 11:00 pm creating something, yet I don’t have to.

As I sit in my sewing chair, I can glance out that window.  I will always see the words above. A gentle nudge to always remember to live in gratitude. 20160920_151558_resized_1

Have I mentioned lately what  lucky girl I am?

Sew Grateful.


girls vs boy


Big News!!!!!!

It’s a girl!

It’s a girl!

While Mr. Right teases me and makes jokes about buzzards chickens, he was the one who drove, had the box ready, paid and arranged the meeting.

Welcome to the Wilson’s!  I have two new chickens!!!!

I am one of those people who name their livestock.  Okay, Monday morning,  4th of July………….let’s see…….. names, you two beauties need names.

20160704_162224I’d like to introduce you to Martha and Dolly.  That’s Martha Washington and Dolly Madison.

Martha is a Blue Andalusian.  When the sun catches it just right, her feathers are so black they shimmer blue.  Dolly is an Americauna just like our Ginger.

While they are only a few months old they both are laying eggs already.  Which is rather lovely.  I collected and am grateful for egg number 832.

While I was fussing and fluffing the coop yesterday, they were being quite shy.  So I decided to tell them a little about me. I first said I was nice and would bring them goodies almost every day. I always say thank you, aloud when I collect eggs.   I said while I am wearing ugly black boots today, I wear fancy toe nail polish and when I wear flip-flops they will be magically drawn to me.  ha

I offered up a bowl with plain yogurt garnished with meal worms and fresh picked20160707_094536-1 blueberries and spinach.  yum.  (yes, they need the good bacteria 20160707_094710-1of yogurt as the 3 adjust to each other) They all dug right in, so apparently my culinary skills are appreciated.

How are they adjusting you ask?  The first night around midnight, I went out with a flashlight to check on the slumber party.  Everyone was sleeping next to each other.  Guess they got to know each other, did each other’s hair and enjoyed the movie and popcorn.

How am I adjusting?

5 girls (me, one girl dog, 3 girl chickens) VS one boy, Mr. Right.

Odds are good in the Wilson house.






we remember

Memorial Day can be tricky in our household.

While the day has a solomness surrounding it, it is also usually a pretty day perfect to relax and enjoy some down time.  Yes there will be a wonderful meal at the end of the day, however…

First things first.

Mr. Right has an obligation to remember and pay his respects.

Yes, every single year.

Even while we lived in Europe, each year, we visited several American cemeteries where our soldiers rest in peace.

He made a promise never to forget.  He makes good on his promises.

So early in the morning, he readies his uniform.  Yes, with a small dressmaker’s ruler, every single ribbon, button, and award is measured and remeasure.  I don’t think I have to tell you that everything is shined to perfection.  Nor are there any wrinkles or lint to be found.

While he prepares, I make sure I am dressed and ready to go when he is.  This is important to him, so it is important to me.  This year I chose to wear 2 beautiful strands of pearls the 20160529_124608grands gave me.  Stunning colors along with the smooth, cool feel.  I always wear a dress and sandals.  The grass is still wet and sandals seems to work best.

We visited a National Cemetery about 30 minutes from our home.  The drive is quiet.

We have a list of sites we visit, we made promises.  He has soldiers to remember.

As he puts on his hat, I look around and am always taken aback by the beauty of the grounds.

The very next time you complain about taxes, this is a beautiful thing to slip into your mind.  Our tax dollars are used to keep the sacred ground in excellent condition.  It is a sense of pride and appreciation.  Very well done.

As I lag behind and try my best to give him time and space, my eyes wonder.  The cemetery is amazingly full of visitors yet shockingly quiet.  I see so many flags, one on each grave.  Each standing at attention.  I see flowers, beautiful flowers symbolizing the love of family and friends.  I spy a bottle of unopened beer leaning against a headstone.  A unit patch placed on top, a buddy came to visit.  I see small stones placed on headstones and coins.  Lots of coins, military men will leave a coin to remember their own.

I try not to interrupt others time.  I play with my string of pearls.  I pray.  I pray for military wives and moms.  I pray for their shattered hearts. It is the very least I can do.

This year a woman caught my eye, held up her camera and asked if she could take a picture of Mr. Right.  He had his back to us.  I nodded yes.  I appreciated the gesture, her kindness in asking.   Her respect of him and his private time. 20160529_120442

After an hour or so, you almost forget you are holding your breath.  Until that moment when something reminds you to breathe.

As I followed him through one last section, I saw a family of four.  A lady about 85+, and 3 others in the 70 year range.  They were grouped around a headstone.  Flowers in place.  I saw the older woman reach in her pocket.  She handed each person a Hershey Bar.  She kept the last for herself.  They each were unwrapping their chocolate.  Then they began talking louder and smiling.  Remembering.  A private, sincere moment, I just happened to be lucky enough to witness it.   Chocolate helps them remember.

A fresh military haircut, a spit spot uniform, flowers, a unit patch, a prayer or a chocolate bar…

We remember.





pretend happy

Waiting rooms.  The very name explains the purpose.  Waiting.

I spent sometime in one this week.

If you have never been in one, let me explain:

waiting room.jpgUpon first glance, the furniture looks nice with enough padding.  After 2 hours, that is not the case.  I move, shift, cross and uncross my legs.  I try standing and walking (not far).  Everyone in that room has their spidey sense honed in on the door.  The door where a nurse comes through smiling calling your name.

The tension in the room is thick.  Sticky thick like 90% humidity on a late summer day in North Carolina.

When you first get there, you think everything is so opulent, well-appointed.  The longer you stay, the less you like the stupid lamp with the print.  The wooden safari giraffe looked so perfect when you first arrived, now 2 hours later, just sad and ridiculous.

I counted 17 sofas or love seats.  8 coffee tables.  A fireplace large enough for me and the two adults next to me to crawl in.

I pray and then get distracted, circle back to more praying.

I chew my fingers.  No, it is not lady like.  No, it is not appropriate.  I do it anyway.

I fidget.

I play with my hair.

I have a bag with books, magazines, my phone, snacks.  The coffee table in front of me has fanned out surprisingly up to date magazines.  Nothing keeps my interest.

While being surrounded by 7 other people, it feels lonely.Hydrangea-02.jpg

I wring my hands like a 72-year-old Jewish mother.  I am an excellent worrier.

Then I make a list in my mind of things I am good at.

I am polite and say good morning to everyone who walks near.

I am helpful.

Two people asked me the time and I gave it.

I am pretend happy.  I have a smile on my face.

I want to go home.  But of course, I stay and I don’t leave the area.

I am a much better “doer” than a “waiting room contestant”.  I can bring soup, I can tidy and fluff pillows.  I can keep things orderly and on track.  I can quickly change a bed or scrub a bathroom spotless in less time than it takes for someone to  eat their lunch.

Today, I have a friend on the other side of the country playing the waiting game.  Gosh, I have sent way too many texts and emails.  I want her to know there is someone in her corner.

As i type, I have two band-aides on my fingers.  drats.

….ps.  I did a great job at waiting.  Everything turned out wonderful.  I have convinced myself it is because I was a wonderful contestant.  I get to do it all over again in 10 days.

Bring it on.  I got this.

Here’s to all those wonderful souls that are sitting in waiting rooms reading this.

May you be bathed in Grace.  You are in the exact right spot at the right time.  To the person you are lifting up and supporting, you are making a difference.

in this together






1,000 bits of glittering gratitude

colorful elephantJoke:  How do you eat an elephant?

Answer:  One bite at a time, of course!


Who would have guessed that I would be writing my 1,000th blog post? Day by day, one bite at a time.

Writing is the easy part. Trying to write “one glittering paragraph” a bit more tricky.


 “To get the right word in the right place is a rare achievement. To condense the diffused light of a page of thought into the luminous flash of a single sentence, is worthy to rank as a prize composition just by itself…Anybody can have ideas–the difficulty is to express them without squandering a quire of paper on an idea that ought to be reduced to one glittering paragraph.” Mark Twain

I began writing this blog in an effort to sleep through the night.   I use to wake up at 3 am and have a need to write down my thoughts, my grocery list, things I was grateful for or things that pushed my buttons.  I decided to write during the day, so I could get a peaceful night’s rest.

However, I never dreamed in a million and one years that I would be given so many bits of goodness (as well as 8 solid hours of nightly sleep).  Imagine one million pieces of glitter all over your keyboard right this very moment?

No one tells you, when you write a blog you will be bathed in Grace, Goodness & Glitter. No one says that you will be gently reminded, daily, how many wonderful loving people are in your circle.

It is never mentioned, if you write a blog your new followers could very well become real life friends.friends

As you write, you share a little smidgen of your heart and soul.  That brief glimpse gently sprinkles glitter on your new friends.  And we all know, you can’t sprinkle glitter on others without getting some on yourself.

We all read blogs and sometimes forget to leave a comment.  Maybe because like me, you forget your google account password and are too lazy to go look it up.  Or you get interrupted, or what they wrote hit too close to home and you can’t figure out the right words to say.

I must gush and tell you, receiving a comment pushes my swing.  You know, high enough that the legs come up on the swing set, and your stomach drops for just a slight second?

Receiving a comment, reminds me every so gently to leave a comment next time I read another blog. Oh, and warms my very soul.

Some days, I receive private emails telling me they read my blog and liked it. Or it touched a nerve and they had to tell me a story.    Inside Christmas cards I find a note on the back:  ps.  I love your blog, never miss reading it.  

Once in a while I am flabbergasted that someone, not in my usual circle of campers, reads my blog and comments. A jaunty tip of the hat to you, my friend.

I am humbled by former school chums, relatives far away, former co-workers who make a quick comment and lift me up.  On a daily basis, I  am gently reminded of the oodles of good eggs in my basket.

The gratitude circle around me is astonishing.  If you ever feel alone in this great big beautiful world, may I suggest start writing a blog.

The writing helps sooth your soul. Writing gently reminds you of all that you have. gratitude

Writing a blog gives me a place to work out life.  People raise their hands and offer a suggestion or idea.

That moment when you have downsized and think oh no, what have we done?  This is too small. I need to tell someone.  (Come to find out, it is perfect & lovely and you just needed to “talk” about it.)

The exact second you see a sign that says, Make a Wish and you know you want to share it with your circle of campers.

The moment in time, when you make the biggest decision in your life…….you know it is the right thing to do, for you, it is just so damn big & scary.  Slowly, word by word, blog by blog you reveal the choices you made.

If you ever, ever feel lonely, start a blog and tell people you are: 

a home school family

read magazines back to front

a vegetarian

study one hour a day

you politely & sternly said no thank you to chemotherapy and radiation and chose a different healing path

Readers come to your rescue.  They pat your hand and tell you it will be okay.  They bap you up side the head with a pillow and yell, COME TO YOUR SENSES!  Sometimes readers know magically what you need and leave a heartfelt comment that for some silly reason makes your eyes water.

Writing a blog was suppose to ease my soul, calm my spirit, empty my brain so I could sleep.

Funny thing happened on the way to a good nights’ sleep.

Writing has swung open the window and let fresh air in, lightened the mood & makes it easier to breathe.

There are a bazillion things to write about and I have only covered 1,000. Apparently, I have oodles to say.

Writing gives me a place to shout at the top of my lungs all that I am grateful for.

As I write day by day, as if by magic my circle of friends grows at that same pace.

If you are on the fence about writing a blog, let me give you a gently shove.  You will love that you jumped in.

I am extremely grateful for the folks that have pushed my swing, held my hand, listened to me, disagreed with me and loved me…… and I am mighty appreciative for a good night’s sleep.

Heartfelt thanks to my followers, my friends.  I started this blog for me, however, somewhere along the path, it slipped from helping myself to gently becoming an honor and privilege in sharing this journey with you.

You guys, thanks kindly,  for holding my hand and agreeing to wear wearing cute shoes and not eat canned peas.

You make my world more sparkly, you lift me up and I am truly grateful.

Today, I will use a teal glitter pen and write in swirly font on a square slip of white paper (I will most likely doodle all over it)


1,000th blog post

1,000 things to be grateful forgreen hydrangeas

In this together, friends.

We will chat tomorrow.