One Is Just A Number

As I took this photo at the end of my family's Thanksgiving meal yesterday, someone asked me if I had taken a before photo. I said not this year but I had one from last year. My mom said, "It probably looks pretty much the same as this year," like it was something bad. On the contrary, there is a comfort in the familiar. It wouldn't seem like Thanksgiving without the blueberry salad my Grandma always made or the sweet potatoes with the marshmallows. I love the familiar of my parents' home. It is where they have lived since their wedding night in 1958. They have added on to the house and just this month they put in central heat and air but it hasn't changed much at all in those almost 59 years. It is still full of love and wonderful memories. The familiarity of this home centers me. I can have a rotten day and can spend an evening there and it sets everything right. Being with people who know me so well is such a comfort. There is no struggle with the f

I had the day off today and even though I had all of the time in the world, I thought of a ton of excuses not to do this post. I had to do work for my second job, I needed to do laundry, I couldn't think of the right photo. But just like what this photo says, I needed to scoop the poop and quit making excuses. If I want to be a writer, I need to write. Quit overthinking it, quit being scare about it, and write. Maybe I am intimidated because I live about an hour away from The Pioneer Woman . How could I ever be as successful as her? How could I be the kind of blogger that she is? But isn't that an excuse, isn't that a load of poop? Comparing ourselves to others is just that - poop. We are fearfully and wonderfully made to be us, not anyone else. Each of us has unique things to offer. We shouldn't make excuses for that, we should embrace it. Excuses are so much easier than action. But what I have come to discover recently is that once you take action, you fi