by Christie Perins
No regrets: It’s the phrase that’s been clinking around in my head for a couple of months now.
Every year a new theme surfaces. I grab hold. It’s as if I have been mixing around all the things I’ve been wanting to focus on this year and the cream for the upcoming year rises to the top. Ooh, I want that! I tell myself. I want something a little more than I had last year.
I want a year of no regrets.
This phrase, of course, stems from regrets. Everyone has them. I think regrets are a tender mercy. It’s a learning moment that bump scoots you to a better road ahead. Or it stop plops you in a muddy path… but that’s not an option we want to choose, right?
I have simple regrets like wishing I spent more time with the kids, that I maximized my efforts, that I was more organized, that I connected better with those close to me; that sugar balls weren’t a food group. Most of the regrets are simple regrets. I even regret not hitting the text books more (yeah, remember I’m boring like that… it’s fine we can still be friends).
Anyway, this phrase surfaced right to the top. Yes, I want of year of no regrets.
I like it. Continue reading
by Christie Perkins
Recently I’ve had the feeling that I need to help my kids and myself work on recognizing temptations. I had a bunch of other things I wanted to write about but this is the one that keeps clomping me in the head.
Over and over.
And since I’ve been working on trying to follow my promptings I guess I better ditch the other fabulous (but flopping) ideas and do this. So here you go: Continue reading
by Christie Perkins
Everything we say or do is a choice. As a nutritionist I understand the toll of what we put into our mouths on our body.
During my chemo treatments I was amazed at the power of the food on my overall well being. Even though I couldn’t taste what I wiggled down the food tube, I felt better when I ate better- when I ate foods from all of the food groups.
It was a simple choice that affected me as a whole. And even now with fully acting taste buds, I am more keenly aware of how my food choices affect me.
(And, boy, have I been flubbing that up lately. Who eats lemon bars for breakfast? Well, who besides my kids and I? Yep, bad mom moment.) Continue reading
by Christie Perkins
They were just hashbrowns. How hard could they be?
Well, since I was newly married and highly unexperienced in meal dealing (but wanted to impress my beau with my presumed amazing cooking skills… ahem, yes, presumed) I offered to take the hashbrown portion of the meal.
And that was the first wrong step.
My guy helped peel and cube the potatoes. Now, in any ordinary circumstance I would have turned to the skimp-on-valuable-time method (thank you frozen bag section). But, since we were camping, a bag of potatoes was our current resource. Continue reading
By Christie Perkins
I read a book by Stephen R. Covey many years ago that changed the way I spend my week. Since I’m a textbook nerd I’ll skip the high tech definitions and get right to the point. You’ll appreciate the shortcut version, I’m sure.
But first you must know I’m a huge list maker. I thrive off lists. It’s not so much the list that I like but it’s the check marks that complete me. I like to feel productive. It’s my twisted sugar rush.
So you must know that list making can be a bit of a problem. On one particular unproductive day I couldn’t stand the fact that I wasn’t getting anything done so I actually created a list that I could check off the things I had already done that day. Oh, what a pitiful list. When you have to actually write down brush your teeth and get dressed as a “to do” item you can assume my noon to moon list was doomed to other menial tasks.
So, yep, it was lame. Continue reading
In Love and Death
by Christie Perkins
I pass my Grandma’s house one last time.
A brief vision of days past flash through my mind. A wave of emotion overcomes me. I remember Grandma standing at the edge of her yard in her curled hair and up curled lips. Grandpa in his navy blue pocketed shirt is waving with those knobby knuckles. I watch out the back window of the van as we turn the corner. Until next time.
It is just a vision, for Grandpa’s been gone for years. Grandma’s only been gone a few days.
I fight the stinging of hot tears brimming in my eyes as I realize that today will be the last time I visit Grandma. No more aqua rainforest soap, aloe vera plants for bee stings, or Tang coupled with amazing breakfast eggs edged with that secret ingredient. (Seriously! How could she not like her own eggs?)
All is gone. But not forgotten.
I touch the corner of each eye to drain the tear and I take a breath.
“Bye Grandma, love ya.” My thoughts cradle my memories. Good byes are never easy but today I say my final good bye.
I believe the wave of emotion I feel is from Grandma whispering back one last good bye. The emotion I feel is not in the doom of her death but in the power of her love. Until next time… as for now Grandma and Grandpa will stand at the edge of heaven and earth and watch over us until we see each other again.
The Holes of Overthinking and Procrastination
Hang a picture today.
I have a confession: I’m a bit of a procrastinator, a perfectionist, and an overthinker. Bad combo, I know. It’s why it took me several years to get pictures on the wall of my first home. I wanted to hang my pictures only once. I didn’t want to leave a little hole if I decided to move it (and yes, I’m fully aware of wall putty…but I’m also a procrastinator). It’s a disease, really.
This disease is why I’ve been only contemplating launching my blog. It’s been well over 5 years. I wanted it to be perfect: no flaws in page-loading , no thinking kinks, no plastered smile on my author picture. Bleh! My posed pictures always look fake. I wanted a masterpiece from the start. Yeah, I know. (You can relax your eyebrows and wipe that smirk off your face.) I didn’t want to leave any little holes. But here’s the problem- contemplation minus action equals life dissatisfaction.
It creates its own ugly hole.