Standing on the mountain top.

On January 6, 2016February 3, 2021 By Peggy BereIn Musings8 Comments

I’ve always had a beef with New Year’s. Not the actual Eve or Day, exactly. But all the other hoopla that surrounds it. There’s that depressing song for starters. It’s so bittersweet. As if you’re supposed to reflect on the could have beens, instead of the thank God there was’s. And then the expectations. Oh, the expectations!

My normal new year routine is to go to the mall when the holidays die down and shop for bargains with the other 2 billion people out there looking for bargains. I bundle up in a lightweight outfit (because lord knows the malls are steaming hot and between that and my menopause, I tend to sweat ) and fight the traffic and the weather and head out.

Because I usually get all kinds of nifty kitchen gadgets and candles and lotions from Clark and the kids, (which I LOVE!) I tend to veer towards the women’s clothing department. Last year (and the year before that and the year before that) I learned a valuable lesson.

I went to the mall (surprise, surprise!). I didn’t need anything, but of course that wasn’t the point. One of my favorite stores was having a “70% off everything in the store!” sale. I shopped myself silly and avoiding the glare of other shoppers waiting in the dressing room line behind me, I stepped in with loads of bargains piled high in my arms.

It wasn’t long before I realized that none of the clothes I chose, fit. I tried on a red dress two sizes too small and stared in the mirror.

Wow, my mom was right! Red really IS my color!! I guess it’s kind of tight, but, it’s still a great price. I could wear this, Yeah! …Or maybe…maybe in May for Mother’s Day it’ll fit…

I closed my eyes.

Stop. Just, Stop.

There’s some insistent force that tells us buying our goal weight outfit will make us feel better, when in fact all it does is make us feel like a pile of crumbled up rice cakes and diet seltzer.

I was 50-something years old, and there was a lesson I needed to finally take to heart.

Dress for the body you have today.

I carefully lined up the five tops, one dress, and two pairs of pants that didn’t fit. In another pile, I placed the one top and one dress that did. I took a deep breath and headed for the register. With only two items.

And yet, in 2016, I want to learn to finally and forever learn to live a healthy lifestyle. I want to lose 20 pounds, instead of celebrating the thousand (this might be a slight exaggeration) I’ve already lost. In 2016, I want to celebrate all of the blessings I’ve been graced with in my life. In 2016 I want to remember that beauty is skin deep and that it’s what’s inside that truly counts.

So I’ve got this fab idea! Maybe instead of focusing on our shortcomings in 2016, why not stand on the mountain top and send echos off into the distance that we are fabulous – Just.The.Way.We.Are. Sound good?

Where Were You On October 2, 1998?

On October 2, 2015October 2, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Musings17 Comments

It feels a bit like cheating. But, some words are worth repeating.

I woke up this morning thinking about this exact post and knew it was worth re-posting. For those of you out there whose hearts are tender – to the new readers to my blog since I last ran this piece, I dedicate this to you.

Where were you on October 2, 1998?

You probably have no clue. If you racked your brain trying to remember, you probably would not be able to recall. But, if I asked you where you were on other significant dates in history, chances are you’d probably not only recall where you were, but what you were doing and who you were with.

Where were you September 11th, 2001? Where were you when Kennedy got shot? Or, when Pearl Harbor got bombed? Some of you may recall where you were when Nixon resigned. Or, when John Lennon got shot. Or, when Elvis died.

These significant days in history act as markers on the timeline of our lives. Because they were so catastrophic and life altering, we can remember exactly where we were and what we were doing in that specific moment in time.

We can also recall our specific whereabouts in our times of personal crisis and joy. When a baby is born. When a loved one dies. When a best friend calls us up and tells us they are getting married.

October 2, 1998 – a significant day in my life.

You may not recall where you exactly were then, but I know exactly where I was. That was the day my Dad lost his battle with Cancer. I was with him. My Mom and one of my two Brothers were there, too. 16 years ago today. (That’s so hard to believe!!) I was sitting on the side of his bed holding his hand. It was the first time I was with someone when they took their last breath. It was the first time I held someones hand and felt them go completely still and feel their life end. It was surreal. And sad. And at the moment, something I could not wrap my brain around. Even tho I knew he was near the end of his life, nothing quite prepares you for that moment when your parent actually passes away. Breathing in life one moment – and in the next instance, complete stillness. Their soul moving towards Heaven. It was a powerful moment in my life and a precise moment on my personal timeline where I will always remember where I was and what I was doing.

I’ve lost both of my parents now. My Dad 16 years ago and my Mom more recently – just 20 months ago. February 14th – Valentines Day 2014. I did not have the privilege to be with her and tell her goodbye when her time to leave this earth arrived. But I’m confident that she knew exactly how I felt and how much I loved and respected her. I’m confident that she knew how much all of my siblings loved her.

While I’m still adjusting to life without my Mom, the old saying really is true – “Time Heals All Wounds.” You start to come out of the fog gradually and learn to smile and laugh again.

My Dad was Irish. He was hardworking and funny and sentimental. He liked sports, Notre Dame and beer. He passed his sense of humor and hard work ethic on to all of us. Thanks Dad!! When my brothers and sisters and I get together, all we have to do is say one word to each other or give each other one look that was his and we all start laughing. And we laugh long and hard. And we remember him with fondness and joy and with the sentimentality that he unknowingly passed on to all of us. Time heals all wounds.

We remember and speak of our personal experiences and that helps to keep those collective memories of history and personal tragedy and triumph vivid and fresh. And then, suddenly, 10 years have passed. Or, 20. Or, 50

I miss my Dad. Especially today. I miss my Mom, too. I will never quite get used to them being gone – or not being able to pick up the phone to talk to them. And, I’ll never get used to no longer being able to just get in the car to take a road trip to see them. But I am grateful for two such loving, selfless parents who showered me with unconditional love. I’m grateful for the memories of their laughter and smiles. And kindness.

When was YOUR October 2, 1998?? We all have them.

The good new is, Time Heals all Wounds.

Source: Where Were You On October 2, 1998?

Happy New Year!

On September 23, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Musings22 Comments

toamna-Toamna-природа-xxx-outdoors-ana-music-Good-Morning-yellow-fall-animation-erotik-animated-nature-gifs-nice_large

I wonder how many of us feel the sentiment of renewal with the changing of the seasons. Speaking for myself, I know do. The beginning of Fall feels more to me like the new year than January 1st does.

Why is that? Why do we feel this sense of new beginnings as we say goodbye to Summer and roll out the welcome mat for Fall? Is it the cooler air that greets us each morning that gives us a new sense of refreshed energy and commitment? Is it that in the back of our minds we remember that this time of year was when we said farewell, for now, to the carefree days of summer and hello a new school year? A school year and special time of life that held the promise of reconnecting with old friends and scheduled routines and a hopeful, exciting future.

It seems that when I converse with people who live in an area that boasts the blessing of experiencing all four seasons to their fullest, Autumn seems to be the favorite of so many. For so many reasons…

“I Love Football!”

“I Love the changing of the colors!”

“The cooler tempts are a delightful welcome and lovely change from the hot, humid tempts we just experienced”

“The kids are back in school so now I get a little *me* time to invest in things I Love to do”

“We travel in the Fall!”

“My Bible Study and programs start-up again!”

“The holiday season is just around the corner!”

“I finally can get back to the gym!”

unnamed

Clark and I tend to travel in the Fall. (He’s nicknamed ‘Clark” for that very reason; Clark Griswold..) It’s a popular time for traveling. It used to be a well hidden secret that September and October were the best months to get away. Now-a-days the secret has gotten out. While you can still get around without the congestion of heavy traffic, more and more people these days have discovered the perks of fall travel and are choosing the autumn months as their time to explore the world around them. The weather in September and October is still gorgeous. On most days you experience warm days and cool nights. The prices for air fare and lodging fall extensively making it very budget friendly. The added bonus is that the crowds are finally gone. Something that is a win/win to us! So, we hit the road.

Travel, in and of itself, always gives me a sense of renewal. As does Autumn. A new season. A time to begin again. A time to start over. Happy New Year!

Is Fall your favorite season? Why? If not, what IS your favorite time of year?

old fashioned, vintage typewriter isolated on white background with a blank sheet of paper inserted

A thought for Monday…

On May 4, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Musings13 Comments

Faith – Isn’t it comforting to know that somehow, someone is always in control of what lies ahead for us each day ~ that things work out exactly the way they are supposed to work out. Faith does not always lead us where we want to be, but always where we are supposed to be.

Faith is having the courage to let God have the control.

9973243_orig

Margaret

Kodachrome

On April 29, 2015April 30, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Chicago, Musings14 Comments

Today is Clark’s Birthday. Hurray!! He’s my fabulous Hubs! Happy Birthday, Clark!!

It’s easy to remember his birthday because, well, I’ve known him for about 35 years. I’m also pretty good at remembering birthdays. Sending out cards is another story. I tend to either send them out late or not at all. I’ve had an ongoing deal with myself for longer than I can remember to work on that personal flaw. Each year when the New Year rolls around I challenge myself to not only send every single person I know and love a birthday card but to also send it to them on time. And, each year I break that vow. Not on purpose, but because I tend to be a bit unorganized. (A sign of creativity I’ve been told – *probably by my mother*)

When I woke up this morning, I put on my robe, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed towards our basement. I walked down the stairs into the messy, cluttered, musty space under the first floor of our home. I needed a picture of Clark. I needed a picture ~ or two ~ of him to post on Facebook. It’s been a longtime tradition of mine – along with everyone in the universe – to start our loved ones birthdays off on the right foot by publicly posting old, forgotten pictures of them and attaching some sort of sentimental blurb under it. We plaster these Jpgs (pronounced Jaaayyy-pegs) out onto the World Wide Web and into cyberspace for the whole world to see. Well, I exaggerate. But if you’ve Googled your name recently you’ll find I’m not too far off on my statement

At the bottom of my basement stairs, I walked back through a slim, cluttered hallway and towards what was once a working darkroom that Clark and I had built in a cut off, private section down there. I passed up stacks of stored once treasured objects laying everywhere that had once held coveted spots in the rooms upstairs. I got to the door of the old photo room, opened it and carefully stepped into what now looked like a cluttered room where most of our accumulated treasures from 30 years of marriage had landed. I looked around and thought to myself, good grief, we’ve become hoarders…

There were boxes and boxes of photos in that room which were saved in their original envelopes and stuffed into drawers. Jammed drawers that you could barely open up because there were heavy stacks of boxes upon boxes filled with junk and memorabilia crammed all over the place. The walls were also filled with cabinets that held a bonanza of old photo albums. Eventually, I got down to work and started searching for a few pictures that were Facebook worthy.

Not too far into my task I became unfocused as I sifted through what seemed like a million unorganized photos. It’s easy to get sidetracked when you’re looking at a photogenic history of your life. The sentimentality of the task pulled at my heartstrings. I started to examine the content of the piles of photos I was sifting through rather than finding photos of my hubs. Photography sure had changed…..

The Selfie – Those popular self photo’s taken with smart phones and hand-held digital camera’s, which are usually flattering and an attempt to *appear casual* had definitely not made it onto the scene yet. It seems that back before the digital age and social media, people took more pictures of the world around them than they did of themselves. Clark, being the nature lover that he is, seemed to be fascinated with landscape photos. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at. He also shot tons of photos of birds…..and animals at Zoos. But, no selfies.

Photo Bombing – When I did come across the occasional photo of Clark from the olden days, I noticed that a few had some pioneer photo bombers in the background! They were different though than the photo bombs of today where the pranksters purposely put themselves into the view of the photograph with a goofy smile or waving as to tell you that they’re back there and they GOTCHYA!! These photo bombers were mostly elderly Aunts, Uncles or family members simply misplaced in the backdrop of the photo. Often funnier than the bombers of today.

Hairstyles – They will always give away what decade you are looking at.

Labeling Photo’s – I was always told to label the back of my photos with names and dates because one day I’d forget that information. I scoffed at that bit of advice knowing I’d never forget people or names or places. So, I didn’t label anything. And, for the life of me I could not place who half the people in the photo’s with me were. We must have been close pals though because mostly we were hugging and laughing together. Huh??

After a few hours of walking down memory lane, I had finally found a handful of pictures that would work as a tribute to my Hubs. They were awesome photos and during a time when we first met and started dating. His hair was long and he sported a thick, full mustache. He wore t-shirts with pictures of rock bands on them and cut off, frayed jean shorts. He drove a convertible and had a wild streak in him that caught my eye right away. These days he’s traded in that youthful attire and look for work slacks, ties and weekend golf shirts.

It was odd-looking back at those old photos. It’s odd how you don’t realize how much you age and mature from year to year until you look back. It hit’s you then and you think solemnly to yourself, wow, I’ve aged…. You wonder where the time went. How did thirty years fly by so fast. And, were the memories recorded in those old, treasured photo’s really as glorious as our minds would love to convince us they were? Or, is it true what they say; that it’s fun to remember the way things used to be, but the way things used to be probably could never live up to how we recall them. We tend to glorify the past with fabulous stories and timeless photo’s that make you think ‘all the world’s a sunny day…’

Where’s your happy place?

On February 6, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Musings38 Comments

yoga-zen1

We’ve all been there. You wake up in the morning and feel somewhat stiff and sore. The Flu? A cold coming on? Some kind of illness that you’re sure will keep you from leaving your bedroom all day, let alone your home. Your mind starts to clear from the hazy slumber you just woke up from and then you remember. YOGA!!

I was going to become a yoga guru in the new year. My resolution – become more in tuned with my body while nourishing it through the ancient art of yoga. Great idea? Yes, I thought so!

In my mind, Yoga was stretching and a light, relaxing form of exercise. I could wear something fashionable and cute and not even break a sweat while getting into amazingly sculpted shape. It would benefit both my mind and body. And, my friend and I could not wait to get started. One of my bestie’s and I signed up for a 10 week beginners yoga course. It was all set for Saturday mornings. Ten in a row. We’d be fit and fabulous in no time at all.

We agreed to start the first Saturday of the New Year. Oops. That was Superbowl weekend. OK, we’d start the 2nd weekend. After all, what was one more weekend of indulgence after a long holiday season with no regard to nutrition or health whatsoever?

So off I went on the designated start day. I drove to the trendy yoga studio, feeling quite smug, looking around at the other drivers on the road at this early morning hour on a weekend. I wondered where they were going. Well, they weren’t going to yoga like I was. Ha! One point for me!

I walked in with my fancy, new, Costco discount yoga mat slung around my back like all the young girls I saw. I was ready to get my Yoga on. I had beat my friend to the class so I signed in with the bright pen that was decorated with a big daisy on the end of it. Very groovy! I turned and headed towards the sheer fabric panels that I saw hanging from the ceiling. They acted as a divider between the front reception area and the actual studio. I walked through them and entered the studio area.

Looking around, I noticed that the room was not as big as I imagined it would be. It was actually a little tight on space. There were yoga mats laying all over the place in random order. The air smelled warm and damp from the previous class that had just got done. I turned towards the back of the room and found a space in the corner of the crowded room. I unrolled my mat and plopped down on it. I saved the space next to me for my friend who had still not arrived. Everyone around me was stretching and warming up. I decided to do the same. The girl next to me was sitting crossed legged and bending over her thighs. She was folded almost in half, so low that her forehead almost touched the ground. OK! I’ll do that, too. I mimicked my neighbors position and tried to bend down. I didn’t get very far. I don’t even think I got halfway down. I was stuck in an almost 90 Degree angle. I used to be so flexible. When did this happen?

I heard my friend’s voice as she entered the studio and waved her over to me. We were next to each other on our mats, looking around at all the others bending their lithe figures this way and that. We decided to just chat about how great we looked in our new workout gear until the instructor got started. Don’t we look great?! Yes, we do!

The instructor walked in, dimmed the lights low and got started. The people all around me had their socks off to prevent slippage. I kept mine on. I had not thought ahead. If I took my socks off everyone would see my 2 month old pedicure that had grown out almost midway to the tips of my toes. It was chipping and peeling. Who knew anyone besides my hubby would be seeing my toes during the snowy, winter months? Mental note: get pedicure before next class.

We warmed up with a few easy poses. OK! simple. I could handle this. No sweat! But after about 10 minutes, things started to get a bit sticky. We were bending ourselves in all kind of unnatural positions. We were doing planks. And, doing Ab work. My abs had not had a relationship with an exercise, well, since I had my kids 20 years earlier. I was starting to sweat. I could see the perspiration droplets starting to show through my new, trendy workout gear. The instructor had earlier told us to work with our eyes closed and at our own pace. I opened mine and peeked over at my friend. She was dabbing the sweat off of her brow, too… dab dab dab.. The instructor caught me looking around the room and reiterated that nobody should worry about anybody else’s performance level. But how could I not notice and be amazed at the little skinny thing in front of me. She had her ankle behind her neck. Good Lord, It was like something straight out of Ripley’s Believe it or Not. I looked at my friend again and she was silently mouthing something to me…. these poses are humanly unnatural… I nodded and agreed. I could hear pops from different parts of my body and prayed that I wouldn’t throw anything out of joint.

After 55 minutes of putting our poor, out of shape bodies through torture and hell, we finally got to the cool down.

Ahhhh. Now this I could handle. Granted, we were just lying there sweaty on the mats – silently. Eyes closed, hands at our sides, palms facing upwards. My heartbeat began to return to normal. My sweating slowed down from a steady flow to a little drip. The instructors soothing voice washed over us. There was quiet music playing in the background, swirling around my brain. I had actually become relaxed. I had gone from challenging my body like it had not been challenged in a long time to extreme relaxation. All in a matter of five minutes. As the entire class lay there silently she made us aware of all of our senses. Moving from one muscle group to the next. It felt like heaven. In a way, it was spiritual. She told us to let our breathing return to normal. To concentrate only on going to a place in our hearts and mind that made us happy. A beach. A recent or long ago vacation. A memory. It could be anywhere. Or with anyone.

I was sitting on a large tourist bus in a seat next to my mom. We were perched up high over the road. Traveling through the countryside of Italy on our way to Rome. We were traveling with a choir group from one of my girlfriend’s church. She had invited us to come along. There were extra seats available. It was my Mom’s and My first trip to Italy. A place where we had both always wanted to go. And, we did. My mind remembered that the choir on the bus was singing. They were practicing the hymns and church songs that they were going to sing in Churches along the way. It was beautiful. My memory shifted over to my My mom and I looking out the window at the rolling hills of Tuscany. We saw tall trees all around us. Those tall, pine-like ones that are so familiar to the Italian region. The ones I had seen in books and magazines all of my life. The houses were different. Stucco with tiled roofs. There was livestock, mostly sheep, roaming around. Our bus chugged along silently through the countryside over the hills. It looked simple. And lovely. My mom and I were talking all along the way. We were sitting arm in arm. And, we were laughing. Remembering experiences from the night before in Florence. A restaurant that stayed opened for us during the traditional Italian siesta time. The opened bottle of Limoncello sitting on our table Bottle’s of Italian red wine. Our new friends sitting across from us. We did not know them before we boarded the plane in Chicago. Now? We were close with them. And, traveling across central Europe with them. A bond had been formed. It was soothing and it was the happy place that my heart had gone to for that moment…..

And then, suddenly, the instructor invaded my happy place. I was back in the present. With my dear yoga buddy next to me. We were told to sit in an upright position and show the sign of thankfulness. Hands held in front of you. In a praying position. She told us to take with us something good for the rest of the day. Something that will make us shine, inside and out. To remember why we had come in the first place. Why we had walked through the door. That we were there for a reason and not out of randomness. And, she was right.

We had made a pact to better our minds and body in the new year. And now that I had been through the challenges of the first class and the spirituality of the cool down, I knew this was the place for me. I wanted to come back again. And, again.

Namasté

Who is that behind the bushes?

On January 27, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Musings16 Comments

Reading this article this morning, originally printed in Deadstate.org, made me think of how wonderful it would be for those of us who have a love for all things photographic, to have the freedom and courage to simply walk up to any subject head on and do what we love to do most – Interact, fully engaged, with the group of people or person that drew our creative attention in their direction in the first place. Face to face. Not from around a corner or hidden behind a tree. Not from a safe spot, hidden in the middle of some shrubbery. Not from the subject’s backside (good grief, how boring!!) And, most definitely not while pretending to take a picture of something over the subjects shoulder. I mean, c’mon people! – I think everyone is on to that tactic.

I’ve gone through several steps of uncomfortable growth to get to the point I am now in my (very) amateur photography hobby. I’m still not completely where I want to be in learning to just *go for the shot.* I tend to end up feeling squeamishly uncomfortable and as tho I’ve somehow invaded someone’s invisible bubble of privacy. But I’m getting there. One day I hope to feel comfortable enough to walk up to anyone, anywhere and take the shot. I just might end up with some amazing captures like these!

In 1974 a photographer met two mimes, only years later realizes who one of them was

Back in 1974, photographer Daniel Sorine came across two mimes in New York City’s Central Park. Something about them caught his eye, and he immediately began to snap pictures.

Years later, Sorine realized that one of the mimes was a then-unknown Robin Williams and the other was author Todd Oppenheimer.

“What attracted me to Robin Williams and his fellow mime, Todd Oppenheimer, was an unusual amount of intensity, personality and physical fluidity. When I approached them with my Pentax Spotmatic they allowed me to invite them into my camera instead of me having to chase after them.”

take a look:

robin-3

robin-4

via

It’s hard to know if these amazing shots of a young Robin Williams were captured because the photographer was confidant enough to simply walk up to his subject and shoot the picture or if it was simply a matter of Robin’s big personality, generosity and love of attention. But, I do know, that you have to step out from behind the bushes.

Why women need women in their lives

On January 10, 2015January 10, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Musings67 Comments

It was a Thursday Morning. The first Thursday of the New Year. That meant that I would be meeting up with one of my besties for coffee. We made a pact last year to meet up once a week at the coffee shop that sits midway between her suburb and mine. Thursday mornings, that was the day we agreed upon. They would be our day!! Regardless of weather. Regardless of schedules. And, we stuck to our deal. Last year we met every single Thursday except for one or two. The only thing that keeps us away from our sacred get-together is if one of us is out-of-town. That’s a reasonable excuse.

She always arrives before I do. And, there is usually an empty “to go” cup waiting for me. Her treat. We buy the “to go” cups because this particular spot lets you refill your java as many times as you’d like and then take one with you *to go* if you’d like. And we do.

I have tried endlessly, unsuccessfully, to beat her to our spot so that I can treat her for coffee just once. But every week, regardless of how early I get ready in the morning and rush out the door, she is sitting there already. Waiting. Enthusiastically.

Our first Thursday of the new year!! I was ready to get back on track with a normal routine. I was burned out on the holidays and all of the socializing that comes along with the hectic, jolly season. I was ready to get back into my regular routine. I was happy to be up and out the door early and on my way to meet up with my sweet friend. We were going to discuss our new Yoga class we were enrolled in on Saturday mornings!! Hurray!!

As I pulled into the parking lot I noticed her car right away. Of courseeee she would be there before me! I walked in and turned my attention to one of the two spots that we usually sit in. And, there she was. Big, bright reddish bouffant, smiling eyes and a huge grin. *over here!!* She always stands up when she spots me walking in and waves her arm enthusiastically back and forth – as If I would not be able to find her unless she stood up and signaled me. Ohhh, my dear, sweet friend must not be aware that I can see her big, beautiful bouffant over the top of the booth from across the room whether or not she stands up to greet me.

I made a beeline for the booth and sat down. She had papers and a schedule in front of her and was ready to dive into the details of our new Yoga class. I scooted into the booth across from her and looked at the coffee and water sitting in front of me. She had put a slice of lemon in my water. Everybody knows that lemons help to flush out all the millions of calories and impurities that we tend to shove into our bodies over the holidays. Every little bit counts!! And, if we can lose weight just by drinking lemon water, bring it on!!

We were all settled in and ready to get to the gabbing. She looked up at me and immediately knew that something was a little off. Women do that. We have a special, ingrained sense of female esp. We can tell when one of our girlfriends are upset about something. She asked me what was wrong and I burst into tears. I had been thinking about my Mom on the way to the coffee shop. About how desperately I missed her. My heart-felt such a heavy weight that morning. I knew that this time of year was a trigger. The anniversary – the first anniversary of her passing was just around the corner. It was all too much to bear.

My bestie popped up and went to get some makeshift Kleenex (scratchy paper napkins). She handed them to me and scooted back in the booth. I took them and held them up to my face. I was covering my face with them and blubbering. I was hiding behind them. She told me to put them down. That she knew I was back there behind the scratchy napkin crying. I thought to myself, that comment was something my Mom would have laughed about. And as I thought about my Mom laughing at a comment like that, I began to laugh, myself. I laughed for a minute and then cried some more. It was the ugly cry where your face is all skewed up. But then I thought about my friend telling me that she knew I was behind the napkin and my emotions turned into a half laugh half cry. I lowered my scratchy shield an inch and looked at her through watery, drowned eyes from over the top. She didn’t seem to be phased that I was making a scene. So I chanced lowering the napkin all the way down and looked her straight in the eye. And, went on to unload my soul to her. Like I had so many times in the past year. She sat there and listened as I unloaded my grieving sorrow to her. She had all the right things to say. All the while, reaching across the table and holding my hand. And after about 10- 15 minutes, I felt so much better. I pulled myself together, we smiled at each other. It had passed. Unloading on her was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. So, we went on to discuss how we were going to become Yoga Guru’s in 2015. (Lord help us! )

I have always been aware of the fact that women need women in their lives. Or, maybe it’s just me. But I don’t think so. I really do believe that women need women. For socializing. For nurturing. For talking with. We are strong and intelligent and loyal to each other. We relate to one another and usually think along the same wavelengths. I’m constantly amazed by my friends who seem to know when I need them. And, we are complicated. Men, not so much. Men are simple. They can get along with a tv remote and a bag of snacks as their sidekicks. I’m not sure if I envy that or not. I just know that I have some amazing women in my life. I have been blessed with an abundance of besties. All good women to their core.

Our Thursdays have been a special blessing to me. This past year would have been overwhelming without my girlfriends in my life. I treasure each and every one of them. And, I know just how blessed I am to have the company of so many amazing women on a day-to-day basis in my life.

My Mom was an amazing woman herself. I miss her SO much. I think about her everyday. I will never stop missing her or feeling her void. But with a little help from my girlfriends from time to time, I learn to smile over the memories I have rather than dwell on the pain.

The man in the van

On January 7, 2015 By Peggy BereIn Chicago, Musings44 Comments

New-Year-Resolutions

There are two things you can count on as a New Year rolls around. Resolutions will be made. Resolutions will be broken. As humans, we tend to set time lines and dead lines and unrealistic goals for ourselves. It’s human nature to set the bar super-humanly high, go in swinging and end up with deflated outcomes within weeks. Or in some cases, within days or even hours. Let’s face it, you can’t go from being a couch potato to being an instant gym rat. Start slow people!

Perhaps it’s more realistic to craft your goals so that they fit into your lifestyle rather than trying to change your lifestyle by going resolution-crazy. Oh resolutions can be accomplished, but baby steps people, baby steps!

This year, I’m starting sloowwwwww. Over the weekend, my besties and I decided to start an ongoing mass txt thread with the intent of lifting each other up with positive little messages filled with enthusiasm and motivational comments to each other!! Hurray for group support!! The encouragement started coming Sunday night already!!

Sunday

JB: I’ll start the ball rolling, just walked 3 miles at the gym.

JH: you are awesome, JB!

ME: Yes!! You are amazing!!

JH: My positive for the day….I’m hitting the gym this week and packed a healthy lunch for tomorrow!

Oh geeeze, I was feeling pressure already. Two of my besties had actually made an attempt to start off on a good foot. Me? Nothing yet. I could hardly post a txt about how I was looking forward to sitting in front of the boob tube for the much anticipated return of “The Good Wife” and “Revenge.” I had to think of something quick. Aha! I would send a positive txt about what I was going to do tomorrow!! Remembering that I was going to start slow, I decided to start off with hydration. I liked drinking fluids!!! This would be a no brainer! I could even drink the water in front of my tv shows. Win/WIn!

ME: Girls, my positive moment for the day – my attitude!! I’m ready to get started living healthy again. I’m going to concentrate on drinking a lot of water all week!

I felt good! I felt empowered and motivated! Not only was I going to treat my body as a temple while hydrating it, my skin would also look better. My hair might even get shiny! New year, new me! Hurray!

And so it went. The motivational txt’s were working already! Reading just the first round wasssss motivational. So motivational in fact, that I decided on Monday morning to dig out my athletic clothes, dust off my sneakers and hit the gym.

Monday morning rolled around and I felt like Wonder-woman…..

wonderwoman-mkvsdc-white

Monday

JB: Starting the day with a healthy egg white omelet!

JH: Good start. You are inspiring me!

She was inspiring me, too!!! I could not wait to hit the gym! I could not wait to get back on that elliptical and burn off the Holiday pounds+ that I had allotted myself to gain.

ME: I’m hitting the gym, Girls! Feeling good!

I walked into the gym, head held high, smug confident grin on my face and made a beeline straight for the machine I had used endlessly before the holidays rolled around and I decided to take an extended hiatus. I climbed onto the elliptical. It felt like getting back up on a bicycle. I looked down at the dials in front of me automatically set them at the same level that I was used to setting them at 3 months ago. I put my earbuds in, tuned my device to the corresponding station of the tv in front of me which was airing Kelly and Michael, hit the start button and off I went!! Hurray! I felt like Lance Armstrong!! I had my rhythm going. I had good timing. I was laughing at the monologue jokes that I was hearing through my earbuds. That Kelly was a funny girl!!

My heartbeat started to rise slowly and I could feel the beginnings of sweat start to form on my forehead. No problem! I had a towel draped over the handle bars of my machine. *dab dab dab.* I looked back up at the tv, my breathing started to get a bit deeper. More sweat. *dab dab* I looked around and noticed nobody else was sweating. Well, obviously I was working harder and longer than they were. I looked down at the clock on the bike. Geeeze! I was only 4 minutes into it. How could that be? It felt like at least 15 minutes. I decided to toss the towel over the clock. Who needed to see those debbie downer numbers staring you in the face. Who needed the guilt and sense of defeat? Not me!! I was motivated!! I was thinking positive thoughts only!!

More sweat. *dab dab* Good Grief, I was starting to think that maybe I did not do myself any favors by treating myself to a holiday hiatus. I was huffing and puffing. Sweat was starting to seep through my workout gear. My towel was starting to feel soggy. In the course of 25 minutes I went from feeling like Wonder woman, to this…..

tumblr_mcqrcrPaLV1r7rk26

So, I psyched myself up as best I could, finished my workout and could not get out of there fast enough. I was exhausted. And sweaty. And thirsty. I needed to hydrate.

On the way home, I was driving in one of those halfway trances you get into when driving along great spanses of desolate highways. I was trying not to think about how thirsty I was. What had I just put my body through?? Even tho it was a sub-zero January day, I was driving with the car heat off and my jacket open. I was boiling. The sweat was still dripping down my neck. My hair was matted to my scalp. You could see the sweat mark around the neck of my fancy athletic shirt. I was hoping I would make it home without seeing anyone I knew.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a car riding parallel to me. How annoying! Well, I would ignore it and it would soon pass me up. A few minutes passed. Nope. Still there. I chanced a peek and saw some weirdo in a huge, creepy, suspicious looking van. He was looking at me. His eyebrows were raised freakishly high, as tho he was trying to tell me something through his eyeballs. He kept pointing to me and smiling. Geeeze! Could he not that I was dripping in sweat and on my way home from a vigorous, successful, healthy workout. I was thirsty and crabby. I was in no mood for socializing. What nerve.

131643564_39e85f8937_z

I decided to speed up. Then he sped up. So I decided to slow down. And, he slowed down. I chanced another peek at him to try to figure out what his creepy story was. And, I was sneaky about it. I moved my eyes as far as I could to the right while keeping my head pointing straight ahead towards the road. *ouch, eye strain* Yep, he was still sidling me. And now, his window was part way down. What in the world?!?!?! I had a stalker! What a freak! I slowed wayyyy down so he could get several cars ahead of me. Finally, I saw his blinker go on and at the next traffic light, which thankfully was green, he turned right and off he went. He was gone! Thank God! He was out of sight and out of my comfort zone and world. Good Ridance!

As I pulled into my driveway, I started to think about the entire bizarre morning. The gym workout. The van freak. I think Van-Man was hitting on me. He was! He was hitting on me and I was not even in my best form! Or, maybe I was. Perhaps I was not giving myself enough credit. Maybe I looked athletic…and young….and healthy already! One 1/2 hour session on the elliptical and I was already turning heads! I wasssss wonder-woman!!

And, just like that I was motivated again and ready for the next day at the gym! The man in the van had actually motivated me!! It did not really matter where my motivation came from, It just mattered that I stayed motivated!! Hurray for living a healthy lifestyle!! Hurray for New Year Resolutions!! I walked in the house and pulled out my phone and sent a txt to my besties.

Me: One half hour/ 3 miles on the elliptical. Felt good to be back at the gym. I think I’m going to start a gratitude journal. Maybe use the journal that my sweet daughter-in-law gave me for Christmas to use at my desk for writing. I think that it would make a perfect gratitude journal. I’m so glad that we are doing this all together. I’m going to start off really slow and make realistic goals for myself. Good luck this week girls! Love you two! Have a great week……!

twenty fourteen

On December 28, 2014December 28, 2014 By Peggy BereIn Chicago36 Comments

Nobody knows what a New Year will bring. Nobody knows what life holds for each of us from one year to the next.

As I walk away from 2014, I reflect back on a year full of ups and downs. A year full of joy and heartbreak. A year that I would hear the word remission. And, A year that I would end up expectantly saying goodbye to my Sweet Mom. Amazing joy and bitter sorrow. Hand in hand throughout the year.

I turned to my friends and family for support. I turned to my WordPress community as a means of purging my painful feelings through blog posts. And, with camera constantly in hand, I turned to my photography as a way of relaying through photos what I was not able to and could not verbalize into words.

Before we can look ahead, let’s take a reflective look back at what was 2014.

Retrospective – 2104

Before we move ahead, a chance to look back….

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice, And to make an end is to make a beginning.”

-T.S.Elliot