More Please

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What would you like more of this year?  Here’s  my list.

  1. peaceful sound sleep
  2. great coffee
  3. good books
  4. amazing sunrises
  5. gorgeous sunsets
  6. smiles
  7. creativity
  8. writing ideas
  9. positive thoughts
  10. laughter
  11. daydreaming
  12. fun
  13. love
  14. gratefulness
  15. magic
  16. healing
  17. random acts of kindness
  18. crazy (the good kind)
  19. sunshine
  20. joy

Gotta get going on this one.  Starting with coffee.  Wish me luck.

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Sharing My World 21

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Share Your World – 2015 Week #10

When you lose electricity in a storm, do you light the candles or turn on the flashlight? How many of each do you own?
I have no idea where all the flashlights are in this house, although I know W has lots of them.  Candles are more my thing.  Most of those are on the fireplace mantle along with a box of wooden matches.  We have a barbecue lighter, which I hate, because it takes for flaming ever to fire unless someone besides me is using it.  I also have cigarette lighters which I use for lighting incense sticks.  It appears I am a fan of fire.  My phone is always close by if I need to light things up in a hurry.   Despite all this preparedness, the power rarely ever goes out here during a storm.  I honestly can’t remember the last time it happened.  However, that doesn’t stop me from sitting around with the lights out.  I love candlelight.
You are given $5,000 and the chance to exchange it for one of two envelopes. One envelope contains $50,000 and one contains $500. Do you make the trade? Why or why not?
I’m no gambler.  The odds are rarely in my favor.  I went to the horse races once and was thrilled to break even.  So no, I would not make the trade.  I would grab the five grand and run.
What’s your first memory?
I don’t trust that my very early memories are really my own, rather than stories I’ve been told.  I think I remember standing up in the back seat of a car behind my dad and seeing a gigantic animal wander across the road in front of us while the rest of the passengers (mom, brother, grandparents) exclaimed excitedly about it.  Several miles down the road I apparently said “Oh my, that was a very big mouse.”  Moose, mouse, big scary creature – it was all the same to me.  My mother told me I was two years old and couldn’t possibly have a memory of that, and she’s probably right.  But standing in the backseat behind my dad is something I know I did all the time.  It was the best way to travel for a kid who got motion sickness if she sat down and couldn’t see out the windows.  There were no seat belts or booster seats way back then.  There were some really big mice wandering around on the roads though.
What do you do if you can’t sleep at night? Do you count sheep, toss and turn, or get up and try to do something?
I read.  Until my eyes burn.  But falling asleep is normally easy for me.  If there’s too much going on in my head,  I think about breathing.  Not making myself take slow, deep breaths or anything, just being aware of the breaths I am taking and nothing else.  Inhaling, exhaling, relaxing.  It’s usually the last thing I remember.
Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
I’m glad W had a good visit with his parents.  And yes, I’m glad he went on his own.  I’m glad I had some me time.  Well, who am I kidding, it’s ALL me time.  I’m grateful that I survived the trip to and from the airport in rush hour traffic yesterday.  Through various stretches of construction.  Going just over the speed limit and still being passed on both sides by idiots in a big hurry to die.  This morning I went to see my doctor to have my prescriptions renewed and to discuss the results of my recent tests.  And on the way home I stopped at Michael’s for some retail therapy.
My calendar is blank for next week, except for a notation that our middle granddaughter celebrates her tenth birthday on the 18th.
They’re growing up and we’re growing old.  And I’m grateful for both of those things.
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Gentle

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Snow is gently falling this morning and if there is any wind at all, it is gentle too.

My Saturday morning house is quiet and the January light reflects off the gently rotating hangy-things dangling across the kitchen window.

Yes, there does appear to be a photo in this slide show which doesn’t belong.  It is meant to show that beauty can be found on a cluttered kitchen counter.

I am about to begin session three of my gentle stretching of miscellaneous newly awakened muscles.

There are miles to go before I sleep.

Feel free to take all of this and shape it in to an epic piece of poetry.  My brain is currently tuned to the gentle setting and won’t cooperate.

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Like a Stone

William Powell Frith - Sleep

William Powell Frith – Sleep

March 23rd Daily Prompt:  Mr. Sandman 

What kind of sleeper are you? Do you drop off like a stone and awaken refreshed, or do you need pitch black and silence to drift off to dream?

(I know this is yesterdays prompt, and I would have done it yesterday if I hadn’t needed to take so many naps.  It’s the only sane way to spend a Monday.)

I am a marathon sleeper.  If sleeping were an Olympic event I would be a high ranking favourite, a definite contender for the gold.  I have been in training my entire life.  When I was a baby my mother said her envious friends were sure she must be sedating me.  She could plop me down on any flat surface while she visited and drank tea and I would stay happily passed out until it was time to bundle me up again and take me home.  It was anyone’s guess what color my eyes were for several months because they were so rarely open.

I don’t remember ever being freaked out by bedtime as a child.  Or as an adult either.  So when I gave birth to a daughter who couldn’t seem to figure out how to sleep for more than four hours at a stretch until she was six months old, and then bumped it up to six hours between midnight and six a.m. until she was almost two – well that was enough to make me totally rethink the parenting thing, never mind my new zombie-like personality caused by sleep deprivation.  She was the kind of kid who would jump up and down in the middle of the room and sing and dance to stay awake.  After that I had a less confusing child who restored my faith in the existence of our family’s powerful sleep gene.  I never loved my son so much as when he would look at me with his forlorn little face at the end of the day and say “Is it time to go to bed yet?”

Although pitch black silence is nice for inducing sleep, for me it’s not a necessary requirement.  My grandma could fall asleep anywhere and so can I.  A loud noise or the phone ringing or incessant and annoying snoring (not mentioning any names here) will wake me up easily enough, but if I’m not sufficiently rested I will be ridiculously cranky until you shut up and go away and leave me alone.  Or give me coffee.  That also works.

Maybe I was a raving insomniac in a past life and in this one I’m making up for all that lost sleep. Sleep is such a lovely thing.  I don’t understand why we all don’t do more of it.  Although I’ve heard there are people who would like to do that and can’t.  That makes me feel like one of the lucky ones.   It’s like my brain has an off switch triggered by simply closing my eyes.  Is that a blessing or a curse?  I don’t know.  Maybe the mysteries of the universe can only be solved at 3 a.m., in which case I probably won’t be the one doing that.

But I’m sure this talent for dropping happily off into dreamland and staying there for hours has to be a true indicator of an untroubled mind, right?

Anyway, don’t think too hard about that.  Just agree with me.  You’ll sleep better.