A Work in Progress

How Letting Go of What I Didn't Love Directed Me to Do What I Truly Love I'm not sure where I went wrong, but for a while, I worked two jobs that I shouldn't have been working. These are two jobs extra besides my other two jobs of freelance writing and vintage clothing.   I was working four different jobs alongside being a mom, wife, housekeeper, cook, and whatever else I missed here. This isn't to say the jobs were bad. They weren't. In fact, they were very far from bad and actually improved my writing by leaps and bounds. They helped me so much that I would recommend writers take these jobs if they want to be better writers. So why was it both helpful and unhelpful? Because I gave up my true love to do something I thought I should be doing rather than what I wanted to be doing.  Turns out, there's a big difference between the two. A few years ago, after feeling a little stuck in my writing, I picked up a magazine editorial position. Then a little bit after tha

My dad gave me a book to read called The Age of Gold.    It's a fascinating book about the California gold rush and the new American dream. It follows many people from various backgrounds who traveled West chronicling their harrowing journeys.  While I'm only halfway through the book, it's enlightening. Particularly how arduous the journey was getting to California whether they traveled by land or by sea, whether they were married or single, with or without children, born in America, or emigrated. Many feel the gold rush ruined aspects of the states, particularly the region, destroying the natural habitats, and endangering native Indians and their land along with myriad other issues. And for the most part, there were issues.   But without this event, the West wouldn't be what it is today. It was a rush to stake claims, and of course, there was a whole lot of greed involved. But whether I agree with the past or not is irrelevant. It happened.  While it doesn't make i

There are tons of memes and beautifully quoted “slow living” posts out there all over social media from Facebook to Instagram.  I follow several minimal and simple lifestyle accounts on Facebook from No Sidebar to Becoming Minimalist   that post beautiful and poignant quotes and phrases. They’re all helpful and validating but this one got to me.   This quote is the essence of my life, these days. And thankfully for me, I’m blessed to have a cozy home, plenty of nice books, and my husband knows exactly how I drink my coffee.  I can’t ask for anything more than this. I don’t need anything more than this. Have a wonderful Easter weekend and may your Good Friday be very good.  - Heather

The older I get, the more I feel like I wake up on the “wrong side of the bed” more often. It’s not because my life is bad. It’s quite the opposite. My life is wonderful. My life is busy, fulfilling, and overloaded with good things. But as I age, my life “experiences” taint my objectivity. This is normal. Life is hard. Adults understand this notion as age reminds us that nothing is easy and we're constantly fighting aging. Wrinkles and creaking joints are now a normal part of my daily life. So I thoroughly annoyed myself one recent morning with this whole groaning scenario as I got out of bed, with sleep wrinkles on my forehead. I not only felt old but was acting like a grouch. Why was I so ungrateful? I decided for the day, I was going to compliment people and say hello to everyone I saw. I would be the anit-grouch I wanted to see in other people. I was going to have a positive attitude about everything around me and see what happened. Anger and pessimism weren't going to be

My grandfather’s office was the best room in his house. At least, to me it was. His heavy wooden desk was the centerpiece and it was a beast. The office was filled with books, papers, and good things that smelled like education and experience. As a child, I would sit in his chair, hands folded on the desk or holding a pen, acting like I was writing something important just like him. Turning to my left, the chair swiveled perfectly to the typewriter. Clackety-clack. Sometimes , I would pretend to write an urgent memo. But, his office had a special smell. It smelled like a life filled with love. It also exuded a smell of adventure with the African art on the walls or the Indonesian sculptures on the bookshelves; places where various missionary journeys had taken him and my grandmother. The sweet smell of aging paper and typewriter ribbon permeated the room, too. And the way the pencil jar was overflowing with pens was a little bit of heaven that I wouldn’t know to miss until I wasn’t

It's been said that fences make great neighbors. I agree and disagree with this. Fences make great neighbors only because they keep them and their stuff in their space and me and my stuff in my space. But, if you're like most neighbors in California, I have met my neighbors once, and rarely speak to them. It isn't because I don't want to, but because we're all too busy to say hello.  Or something like that. I think it has something to do with the fence situation. The part that's supposed to make me a great neighbor doesn't actually live up to the hype.  A few weeks ago, after a wild, windy, and rainy storm, a portion of our back fence fell down. It was an overdue scenario for sure. We'd been propping that part of our fence up with two-by-fours for years. It was over forty years old, and the posts rotted out beyond their use. It was time. My husband and I walked around to confront our neighbor the following morning, a neighbor we had never met despite the

This year is the return to blogging for me. In case you hadn't noticed.  Oh, but I'm sure you did. I went from writing constantly (about a decade ago) to writing once every six months.  My life of raising my boys, as well as work, side-stepped my regular blog posting. But, I've not stopped writing.  Recently, I baby-stepped back to once-a-month blogging in 2023, and now I'm posting once or twice a week once again. I've come full circle. I've had this blog, A Work in Progress , for almost 15 years. This August will mark a decade and a half of writing my first post , along with my thoughts about books, writing, and random life events. This blog has been therapeutic, a way to keep my writing skills up, and hopefully, an informative place to learn about various things. It's essentially a slow-living blog.  Because, over the years, those are the subjects I tend to cover. There's writing (that was all I wrote about in the beginning); how to write, what to wri

My Hobbit Home I'm done with hurrying. I don't know what the deal is, but there is an epidemic of hurriedness in our society and I'm a part of the problem. It's driving me crazy and I aim to do something about it. Now! Quickly! While I can! Okay, see... why is that the first thing I think of? In everything I want to do, whether it's reinstating my blog, unloading the dishwasher, or running errands (all fifteen of them), I don't want to slow down.  I don't want to take it at a snail's pace. I want it now, and I want it fast. But, why? What is it about doing things slowly that hurts so much? There are quite a few books on this subject and in fact, my sister-in-law recommended a book to me called The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry . I knew I needed to hurry up and read it as soon as she told me. But being that I'm on a no-hurrying kick, I went to my library app (because I don't want to buy the book yet. If it's good and I can't live without i

 A couple weeks ago, I stood in line outside of a thrift store I frequent waiting for it to open at 9:00. I'm not sure why there are unwritten rules for this thrift store (none of my Goodwills have this issue) but this thrift store -which is one of the many thrift stores I frequent to source for my online vintage shop - has a long line on Tuesdays. They're closed on Sunday and Monday, so I'm sure that's part of it. Tuesday is also their sale day and people like me who resell vintage, as well as others - many retired folks looking for a good deal - stand in line waiting for the doors to open. I feel very much like cattle being prodded into a pen.   I was standing in front of a woman who reminded me of my grandmother. Next to her, was a young man, maybe 25, who was doing his best to ignore both of us. He was there to do what I was doing: sourcing for items to resell. I think I heard him say something about electronics. The woman? She was there because she was on a fixed

Old books, new books, big books, small books.  Dr. Suess could have written a story on the diversity of books and their wonderfulness. One of my best friends and I talk about books versus e-books a lot. Which one is best?  She and I are both writers. This means we write as much as we read, and we vacillate between using actual physical books and e-books. But we've come to terms with these multi-faceted feelings; sometimes an e-book feels better, and other times we grow weary of the digital page. Here's what we always end up saying to each other: "There are days when we have to feel a book in our hands." It's also a way of clarifying that we're not cheating on print books when we choose the e-book. I think a small part of us feels guilty for using our e-readers as much as we do. But why? Books, the smell of books, the look of books, the way books feel in the hand... that's all part of the mystery, charm, and charisma of physical books; I love the pages tur

How Writing Down One Grateful Thing a Day Changed My Life For all of 2023, I decided to write down one thing that I was grateful for at the end of every day. We've all heard of this helpful hint to improve our lives; to use gratitude to remind ourselves how good we have it; to write down ten things we're grateful for every day, or to write down five things that made the day wonderful; keep a gratitude journal. I understand the concept. And I fully endorse it. But, for reasons I couldn't explain, I never "found the time" (i.e. wasn't willing to put in the time) to write them down.  I am a grateful person. I am beyond thankful every day for the life I get to live, to do what I love, and to have my family with me. Life is good. I mean, really good. But I decided to change the rules up a little. Instead of making things harder on myself, and writing yet another list, I decided to keep things simple. Simple living is my daily intention. For 2023, I wrote down one t

Peace can be elusive. When we're stressed, it's the furthest thing from reach.  Naturally, we look for ways to relieve the stress that surrounds our lives - whether that stress is from jobs, family life, relationships, or even our own thoughts.  The car breaks down, the fence blows over in a storm (this just happened to us yesterday ), or an unexpected surgery threatens to sabotage our state of mind. Maybe a lifelong friend no longer wants to talk to you. Life is stressful.  But, when we accept life is stressful, it allows us to let go of wanting control (albeit, even if only a little). We learn to develop a "laissez-faire" attitude, which means letting things take their own course.  It's a hands-off, come-what-may-approach to the things we don't have control over. Things such as other's actions and random events we can't foresee, even "acts of God." But, other than the obvious relinquishing of control, some things cause stress in our lives t

I love Friday nights at home with a movie or a book, and my family alongside me. I also happen to love Friday nights when both my sons and husband are at work and I’m home alone. Whether alone or with people, the constant thing I yearn for is quiet living.  Choosing a quiet life isn’t a popular choice, nor is it spouted as truth even if everyone over the age of 35 feels this way. You couldn’t pay me now to start the evening at 10:00 pm. I’m in my pajamas and socks as soon as dinner is over in my house. There are times when a “wild” night out is necessary, which means we eat dinner at a restaurant at 7:00 pm and my husband and I might be out until the wee hours of 9:00 pm.  I also love being with friends and family, and there are times when I desperately need to be with people. I’m not by any means antisocial. The community and fellowship feed a deep longing that being alone can’t fulfill. I also love musical theater, ball games, and parties. But, as I’ve gotten older, I’m finding most