It’s that Time of the Year

I’m going to put the blame on my deer dear friend LeeAnn.    Usually I am very organized ready for [any] holiday that sits on the calendar.   I was just putting Halloween candy in my stash and here comes Thanksgiving.   I always keep a stash of Halloween candy – so don’t judge me.    I’m at Wegmans with banners hanging over my head ORDER NOW.  Order what?   A turkey to order but I have plenty of time.   I was still unpacking boxes in our garage when one of our neighbors approached me asking if I ever ordered a turkey from the Wine’ing Butcher.   Turkey? My mind wasn’t very clear because I was rummaging through boxes looking for a pair of garden gloves – which was urgent due to the amount of leaves blowing down from trees that really are not our trees they are trees that sit along the trail  directly behind our home.   Have you ever walked through Central Park in Autumn and found yourself in a huge pile of leaves?   This was the image I had from our courtyard size backyard.   Now you know why the garden gloves were urgent.   Not ordering a turkey.      I found my garden gloves.    And when I was finished raking and filling three large lawn bags from Costco……I made myself a cup of Caramel tea and looked at the Wine’ing Butchers website for turkeys.

I communicate with LeeAnn at least once a day.   We talk about what our agendas hold for the day or the week.  What’s for dinner.  How are the kids.  Hubbys.   Dogs.   Bloating.   Sinus pressure.  And how many packs of cookies I ate that week day.    LeeAnn has been working endlessly trying to make deadlines for her vintage business.   So because she needs to pass her latest creations by me for approval……I’m seeing more Christmas ornaments,  book page trees, wreaths, glitter, bling, white mantels and more!   I know when you have a business such as hers you’re always one step ahead of each season…..but I was not about to head out to the garage and go through large Rubbermaid bins holding every Christmas item I have ever owned.   It was the week before Thanksgiving and LeeAnn sent me three photos of her latest creations before she and her hubby would take them to the antique shop where her booth is.    I’m eating a huge chunk of Rosemary-Parmesan bread looking at each one of her handmade items.   I’m amazed at the detail LeeAnn puts into her creations.  After I finish my second third  half of the loaf of bread, I walked out to the garage (dang you LeeAnn!) and found the six large Rubbermaid bins.    The bins and I are having a stare down.   Thankfully, the garage door begins to go up and I see a black Honda moving in.   It’s Football Superstar.     I watch as he gets out of the car with his briefcase – his face slightly puzzled at what I’m doing standing in the garage alone staring at bins.    Phew.  I followed him inside and the subject quickly went to dinner and what happened to the Rosemary-Parmesan bread.

The following day I’m alone again in the garage staring at the bins.   I’m having a conversation quietly in my head. A friend who shared her Hungarian traditions with me reminded me of why I wait.  And I remember telling her that I have traditions for Christmas.  My mother’s tradition of putting the tree up on the Friday after Thanksgiving.   My Italian heritage traditions and I’ve adopted my husband’s Scottish heritage traditions.   But I will not bring bins in the house until Black Friday.  I don’t shop Black Friday unless I go into the city to shop and I wasn’t going anywhere this year.   But those bins will not come in until Friday.    Oh, LeeAnn!


I decided that bringing the bins in would only be for “inventory”.    Tuesday before Thanksgiving I ask College Daughter to help me drag a few bins in.   Without asking if I was going to start decorating for Christmas – she reads each bin marked “GLASS” or “SANTA COLLECTION”.  College Daughter disappears to her bedroom so she can begin applying for grad school.   And this is perfect because I have more alone time before Apple comes home from school.   I’m able to have another conversation in my head and eat a slice of double fudge chocolate cake.   [pray for me please]

I send LeeAnn a message letting her know what I’m doing.   With excitement she tells me to start placing “winter” decor around my home.   In a moment I’m back in Simple Dimple with music playing and a cup of tea.   But it’s not my shop it’s my home.  And I’m going to make it cozy for winter even if it’s 67 degrees.    Besides….we didn’t get our formal living room furniture yet and College Daughter is having her boyfriend over for dinner to celebrate his birthday.    I need to make the house cozy and inviting because all twenty-three year old young men notice that kind of stuff.


By Wednesday afternoon I’m on my way to pick up the turkey.   I’m sitting in a mob of traffic because everyone decided to head to Dulles Airport before noon.   Obviously they didn’t listen to the travel report you’re to leave on Thanksgiving morning – 6 AM!   Obviously I didn’t listen either.     So because this makes total sense – I jump on the toll road and head to Hobby Lobby.    Because Apple Cheeks wants to begin collecting vintage Christmas villages.  Why not take what little time I have and see if HL has any great sales.  Which they did.  And which I did find my youngest daughter three reproductions of vintage houses.   And a few ornaments.  And a wreath.   And a bag of chocolate covered pretzels – for the trip to pick up the turkey.   For Thanksgiving.

I was ashamed of myself.   Not because I took the toll road to Hobby Lobby but because I ate a bag of chocolate covered pretzels in less than fifteen minutes.   [pray for me]        I managed to get everything needed for the Thanksgiving meal(s), Wednesday evening’s meal and Thursday’s Friendsgiving side dish.   I felt empowered!   Oh, yes come Black Friday my house is going to smell of pine with piped in Christmas music!   By Saturday morning my girls were asking me to lower the Christmas tunes (yeah, can you believe that one) because they couldn’t hear themselves think.   I didn’t know you needed to have complete quietness when you were eating a bowl of Reese’s Puffs.

Saturday I’m sharing with LeeAnn my accomplishments.    We’re having a chat while she’s working on an order of book page Christmas trees and I’m eating leftover chestnut stuffing.   Like any good “sister” would do for you she encourages me to do even more.  So Saturday evening before we said goodbye to College Daughter – we grabbed that last of the six bins.  The very last bin that sat in our garage holding a fragile crèche and stockings that will be placed above the mantel come Christmas eve.

So my inventory needs a few more items.   I’ve become so in awe with deer.  My inner child surfaces when I see them.   We have a few that pass by the Old Dominion/DC trails.  I’m very quiet while walking the pup hoping to see a passing momma and her babes.  And on a rare occasion we may have one pass through our yard.  Sadly, due to development in the urban/suburban areas they are being forced out of their habitat.  But knowing my heart skips when I see deer, I had no choice but to begin collecting deer.  And not by putting its head over my mantel but finding unique and pretty deer decor.  Sparkly deer.   White deer.  Deer on white throw pillows.   Vintage deer.  I’ll stop.  Not stop collecting deer…just stop naming the few I’ve snatched up while jumping on the toll road.

I’m not done with my Christmas chatter.   Oh, there will be more.   Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.   It was my mother’s favorite as well.   But Christmas is the most magical time of the year for me and my family.

Thank you LeeAnn for encouraging me to drive myself mad.  Which resulted in my weight gain [which means I’ll need to explain this to my doctor come January], my talent for eating an entire loaf of Rosemary-Parmesan bread and breaking a promise to my family that I wouldn’t eat the rest of the Godiva chocolates College Daughter’s boyfriend presented us Tuesday.  I did this last year too.    And that I still have it in me to find some of the best deals during this wonderful time of the year!   Thank you my friend!  I love you my sister!


To be continued….









































sleep number and menopause?!

I had the pleasure of spending time with some funny, wonderful ladies last week.  We enjoyed our time by the water as our kiddo’s enjoyed their time in the water or collecting pretty lake rocks.  Our topic; menopause and sleeping.   I can’t help but laugh as I type, so I’ll apologize for type-o’s now!

I’m the senior of this group.  At fifty-five thirty-five, no fifty-five.  Daina is fresh out of the forty bracket and Tanya is permitted to have her forty plus years of life.  Daina and I have more in common when it comes to the circle of life.  No, I mean the cycle of life.         We both know what hot flashes can and will create in the middle of the night.  Hot flashes create monsters.   Pillow becomes a sponge for the base of your neck and hairline.  Where you’re up changing nightshirts and mumbling because the night sweats woke you from a wonderful slumber.   I always feel sorry for bears who hibernate and are dragged out of their cozy dens by researchers trying to poke and probe them for their weight.   I would so become grizzly-like if someone woke me up just for my weight!   Daina not only experiences night sweats, she also gets leg cramps.  So basically….it’s as if Daina is running in her sleep.   Sweating and leg cramps.   Wonderful.   One thing we all agreed on was our ability to fall asleep like clock work.  Lights out.  Sleep.

I rarely get night sweats but apparently I’ve become “child-like” in my sleeping pattern.  Football Superstar has been poking me – like the grizzly bear and the researcher – to move over.  Move over?   I’m on my side of the bed!     This can’t be possible because I sleep like a baby.  I rarely flip over from side to side.  I am the hibernating bear.                   My husband tells me that I have been “flipping” from side to side.  And I’m sleeping on an angle.    I laughed because he must have surveyed my sleep pattern as he was reading at 1pm.     So  now I’m sleeping with one leg hanging out over the bed while the other is fully wrapped in the sheet.   I pull the entire sheet over to my side in such a coordinated way – he can’t figure out how I’m able to get a tightly tucked in flat sheet out from under this once football player who hasn’t lost much of his strength – well maybe a little.               As my adorable husband tells me this – I’m almost spitting my hazelnut coffee out into the morning air.  No way!    I have this Cirque Soleil image in my mind.   Tokyo-Girls-Collection-11AW-15-Cirque-du-Soleil-004

My gal pals begin to laugh to the point of hick-ups.  They’re trying to imagine – yet not imagine this.  There’s nothing but laughter.   I seriously have no idea that I’m sleeping in such a way.  I have no memory of my talent.   I give my friends a follow up on the sleeping conversation with my hubby.    A Sleep Number Bed!   There is no doubt in my mind – my husband did his research.   He consumer reported.  He researched local companies that supply these SNB’s, and he probably already went to the store to check them out just so he could come back to me and “sell” me on the idea.    He’s a professional.    Again, I have this vision.   What if…..what if I’m still Cirque Soleiling while I sleep on the Sleep Number Bed?!     Sleep-Number-Bed

Is it possible for my (one) leg to still have its freedom?

There’s quite a few questions I have for the Sleep Number Bed salesman before I agree to this not-so-new idea of my husbands.    I know he had this planned out for some time now.  Football Superstar is just so sweet and kind hearted he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by pointing out that I’ve become a monster in the middle of the night.  I prefer a Cirque Soleil performer thank you very much.


Regardless of what menopause has contributed to my cycle of life… thing I can count on and that is my ability to fall asleep.  Stay asleep (unless a monsterous night sweat surfaces) and share some of the funniest stories with my gals who know what it takes to be a great menopausal performer!


Until next time….





Hatching the Decision Egg

While driving home from Costco this afternoon I was playing back the conversation in my mind – the one Football Superstar and I had over coffee this morning.     I’m laughing while driving on Rt. 7, heading south in full blown NoVA traffic.   No one notices my laughter because it’s like the Indy 500 to reach the next traffic light.   Every once in awhile I have an thought of what I didn’t purchase at Costco.   I’m fasting for Lent – it takes everything I have to walk past the Lindt chocolate sample booth.    Pirate Booty cheese puffs.   Okay, so Pirate Booty went in my oversized box to come home for our lake trip.   Give a girl a break.


Football Superstar:    “do you have any interest in returning to the classroom?”

Me:    “I haven’t given it much thought – but I do miss the special ed. program, if  I return to work outside of the home – I’ll look more at social services again.”   “why?”

Football Superstar:   “I think you should take a course in designing, or staging…you could -as you say “channel your inner Jolene Gaines” and enjoy doing what you love.”

Me:   “it’s Joanna Gaines….and what you’re saying is…. you wouldn’t need to pay a Stager for your listings?!  ( laughing because he called my favorite decorator Jolene)

Football Superstar:   “think about it….you could create your own schedule….other realtors would use your services… miss having your vintage business…..and I think it would be fun for you….and yes, (he snickers) I would have a “free” Stager.”

Me:    “I’ll give it some thought… you really think I should do it?…….geez, what if I only work for you for the rest of my Staging life!…..(I crack myself up) ……you realize you are asking me to make a decision…..and I’m skipping a meal which I can’t make any decisions during lunch time…..I have no chocolate in the house…..making decisions without chocolate for me is like asking Murphy to make a decision on which tennis ball she likes best.”

Football Superstar:   “just think about it… would be great at staging.”

decisions-and-impulsivity                                                                             Decisions.

I’ll sit on this staging egg.  See how it hatches.    But my husband who knows me so well is right about one thing – and that’s how much I miss having my shop.  If a particular someone is reading this (Gracie) you know that Joanna/Jolene Gaines stole my ideas!  I’m serious!   I watch Fixer Upper and I’m talking to Jojo and Chip – announcing to them that I did the exact funky-junky whitewashed table eight years ago!   The owner of a tea room purchased it for her kitchen!  Hey!….those candle sconces are table legs!  We had those!!!  You get the picture.  On a serious note – I adore the Gaines and their show is fun to watch.    She stole my cupcake idea as well.    [giggle]

  Though I continue to keep Simple Dimple‘s Facebook page and sale page up to date (as much as I can)  owning a full-time business in this area is very competitive and expensive.   My shop was located on my property when we lived in Pennsylvania.    It was the perfect location and super convenient for me, especially after Apple Cheeks was born.    For now, I’ll settle for being a vendor during seasonal events in historic areas of Virginia, DC’s summer market days and the occasional charity event.

Who knows what the egg will hatch out.  Or when it will hatch.    I’ll let you all know!

But before I turn into this >  Bride-of-Frankenstein-Bride-Screaming  I’m going to go eat a handful of pistachios.

14 more days until this >  70458e921d17c728271de30a1d33770a

Happy Spring!!

no More shopping 101?


I recently had an inbox question regarding Shopping 101 post.

“Dear Momma Daisy,  what ever happened to your Shopping 101 post?  Are you no longer food shopping? ”   – M.L.  Kansas  

My family…sure they are fed, healthy and happy.   Not sure they are happy with each meal  I lovingly create.  Perhaps I should say throw together.   My menu planning has taken a back seat to other work related stuff.  As I sit here typing this post – my menu dinner planner is peaking out from behind a file titled “Family Meal Planner”.   Even I get such a chuckle out of the clearly marked vintage style tag attached to the vintage style folder placed neatly in the vintage galvanized organizer.   This brings out my inner Joanna Gaines, and because I am NO Joanna….my office area clearly shows this file has not been touched in months.   Except for the occasional dusting.

As for food shopping, well my latest experience at Costco was more like a skit from Seinfield.    Normally my blue ticking linen backpack is placed in the shopping cart in place of a child.   If it’s on my back where backpacks are to be displayed – then I run the chance my phone will chime and I may miss a call from school (never get calls) , college daughter (prefers texting) , hubby (reminding me to get shaving cream) my mother-in-law, my father…. you get my point.   Tuesday my backpack played the part of being just that- a backpack and looking quite cute if I may say.   Not me…the backpack.     I was seeking out the ginormous bag of Krusteaz Buttermilk pancake mix when my eyes caught the book section.  I can not stay away from books.  I smell them.  I track them down like a bloodhound on its trail.   I love books.   While joyfully filtering through the latest selection of arrivals (the dude was just opening up boxes of newly pressed hardbacks!) I forgot there was a linen growth attached to my back.  As I slowly turned to make my way up the sea of words, the growth then attached itself to the handle of a shopping cart.  As I walked….so did the cart.   A woman laughing – chuckles out  “hey…excuse me ma’am…you have my cart!”    Oh, well, yes, yes I do!

Released from the metal monster I waltzed down the bakery aisle remembering how much Football Superstar and I love Rosemary-Parmesan cheese bread.  Two come in one sleeve.  ($6.99)   It’s not exactly our favorite bakery’s version but dang when it’s pumped out of the mega ovens and placed (again TWO) in a plastic sleeve while still warm and seeping the aroma of rosemary…..sold!     I know I was smiling not only on the inside but my exterior had to be exploding.   You have no idea how much I LOVE fresh baked breads.   Just as I was walking towards the produce selection a quiet voice appears from behind Aloutte’s Goat Cheese vendor booth.  Wait…goat cheese?   Rosemary-Parmesan cheese bread needs goat cheese.  I gently pick up one of the teeny-weeny cupcake like papers with a morsel of Aloutte goat cheese just enough for a mouse – when out of nowhere a couple, well dressed , possibly between the ages of 65-70, pushes my arm to grab three teeny-weeny cupcake papers when my morsel of goat cheese went flying in the air directly landing on the gentleman to my left – his black dress coat.   Sticking to his coat.   Do I pick at the tiny morsel of cheese – do I tap him on the shoulder as he was looking at a selection of Cheval Blanc.   Do I walk away.   Did you know goat cheese can be rather sticky?  Firm curds that react when pitched in the air.

I shuddered in my L.L. Bean duck boots.  Just as I was about to pass by and pray my linen backpack would come in handy as the tool it was designed to do (not really) and gently knock the morsel of now warm and less firm goat cheese from this gentleman’s black dress coat – I noticed it on the floor by his shiny black loafers.    This tiny morsel of goat cheese went from its wrapper to a teeny-weeny cupcake paper to my hand to a coat to the floor in a matter of seven minutes.    There was no way I was about to approach the vendor for a second sample.   But. There. They. Were.  The couple.  The couple that first took THREE teeny-weeny cupcake papers.   They were back for more.   I watched from the other side of the aisle pretending to be selecting guacamole.  This couple went from sampling more Aloutte goat cheese to the happy vendor warming up organic Al Fresco tomato&basil 60% less fat chicken meatballs.     It was lunch time.

I made my way through the paper product aisle making a U-turn down the frozen fruit aisle.   No way.  A vendor sampling frozen smoothies (didn’t get the brand name) was talking rather loudly to – yep – the couple.     It was lunch time.

Fifteen minutes later I’m waiting in the check out line.  Backpack is now sitting in the child seat of my mega cart.  I’m smiling because the aroma of fresh bread is still seeping through its plastic wrap.  My membership card is placed between my fingers so the kind check out lady can quickly retrieve it.  And just then….there they are.   The couple.   Two rows across from where I wait.   Talking.  Sweetly laughing with each other.   And in their hands….more teeny-weeny cupcake papers that held small morsels of granola.

It was lunch time.

My food shopping days have been of no value to report.  Meaning, I am not saving as I should to be bragging of my hours spent at Wegmans, Costco or Harris Teeter.   My backpack and sometimes my black leather tote bag at times are filled with receipts.  If I were an accountant I would have them neatly organized and categorized on display in a vintage file holder labeled with a vintage tag.

Maybe, just maybe some day I will be back on track with my Shopping 101.  Until then I’ll waltz through Costco watching and waiting for the couple.

Accountability now Organized

imagesHappy New Year!      A new year – a new me.   No, no, no…I’m not trying a new diet.  I’m not taking cooking classes.  And I’m not enrolled in a financial class in order to learn how to make Shopping 101 earn the A+ other food shoppers have bragged of so many times.    No, this is about getting organized.   Organized.      This is my resolution.  I don’t make resolutions.  Because I’ve never been able to keep it.  Giving up chocolate lasted a day.    And my new running shoes are still in the box.   Well, not in the box but sitting on top of the Mizuno box.     This resolution is to get so organized it’ll make Football Superstar feel as if he is married to a new woman!    Well, ok..maybe that was exaggerated but as organized as I’ve ever been.

Plan A – have an accountability partner.

This idea came from LeeAnn.  After LeeAnn filtered all the ideas and plans she had flowing through her mind – she then decided to revisit her passion.  Creating.   LeeAnn presented me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

After revisiting my own passion for creating, I thought why not.  Though my plans to resurrect my vintage business was always on my brains “back burner”….I just didn’t want to make such a commitment that I know (especially in the area where I live)  would need to jump kick the competitive  styles and items we are now exposed to on Pinterest, Fixer Upper and Etsy.  I live in such an area where the IN is IN and the IN is what’s wanted.  No matter the price.   So for me to create the IN – I need to be completely organized and focused.   If I’m in to create the IN then I must really be in – it.

Without this taking over my other priorities – organization is the key.   I’m still devoted to my community outreach with the pup.  I’m still that PTO mom.    I’m still assisting my hubby when needed and I haven’t starved my family with the lack of warm meals and they do have clean laundry.     My mother was very organized.   I believe she had organization skills tattooed in her mind.      I need an accountability pal.

So, LeeAnn…are we in for the long haul?!


This is what my brain has tattooed at the present.  A completely organized work space.

Plan B -To be continued….

lost in time. catching up. where did summer go? It’s October.

October came sneaking up on me.   Behind my back – I wasn’t ready!

But now I am.   And I must give thanks to my dear friend LeeAnn.  (It’s All About the Cozy)  My home is decorated for autumn.   Remnants of summer are hidden behind closed doors of the hallway closet.  Beach towels, those fabulous Turkish blankets and my floppy beach hat will hibernate until next season.

I’m still wearing flip-flops and shorts…so don’t hate.   The temps are warm here….so allow me to wean myself from my comfy flops to wearing shoes.

As I flopped myself through Wegmans, Spencer who just happens to be my check out guy now (I still miss Jake from Wegmans, but he’s moved on to a new career).  Spencer is a little more talkative – and at times – don’t tell him this – he’s distracting.   But he knows every type of bagel there is in the world!     And he lost a lot of weight.   And….


Pumpkins were everywhere.   I decided to take a drive after leaving Wegmans to a local nursery that had mini pumpkins and gourds.   Grabbed a handful and headed back home so I could display those mini darlings on my mantel.  Along with some glamorous Halloween crows Apple Cheeks created.   I never  knew crows could looks so darn cute!    My bird phobia set aside.           I am  was, no, still am  feeling Autumn!

Then Sunday evening as we arrived home from our weekend get-away.  I decided to light candles that had the matching scent of our home decor.   Autumn Spice.   Pumpkin Delight.      Fifteen minutes before we went up to bed, I blew them out.    Within six minutes of blowing out the candles….Murphy decided to annoy September – within 3 minutes September jumped up on the mantel to get away from the exact creature she enjoyed her weekend break away from – knocked over the candle onto the carpet which splattered directly on our fairly new reading chair.       Football Superstar and I stood there motionless looking at the orange wax.   The cat.  The dog.  Back to the wax.   Murphy sat by my hubby  looking confused – but yet and as always happy.   September was ______!

After an hour of scraping orange soy wax off of the carpet and my new favorite reading chair….it was a loss.   Football Superstar googled “how to remove candle wax (soy) from carpet/furniture”.   Nothing.  No hot iron on paper towels/brown bag.   No scrubbing, which we refused to do, because our luck we would have turned the orange from Orange Delight into Mud Pit Brown.     1-800-STEAMER nothing.   Today I wait for another “carpet/textile expert” to arrive.   My window of time 8-12.

I’ve learned a lesson.   After all these years of burning candles on my mantels, and tables….I’ve learned a valuable lesson.    Probably expensive one too.   Which means valuable – right?

But even so, I’m not going to allow that to ruin my carpet and favorite chair  my week.   Autumn is here and my home smells wonderful!


My cup is empty….and guess who arrived?!



Enjoy the sights and scents of Autumn.  *

(PS…I can’t take credit for that beautiful pic….however I’m looking forward to enjoying a similar view this  weekend at the lake)


Lessons from a dog.

It seems like forever since I’ve posted – so before I begin to lose readers/followers….I better say something!


Life has been in the fast lane for us, and I’m sure many of you have your own lane or have been in some type of race since summer opened up the starting gates.

I had every intention of posting [again] of the debates, the election, the candidates, and their messiness.   I even made a time after all my sleepyheads went off to bed – for me time.  My time to set up the laptop on the balcony, along with fresh brewed ice tea.   Raspberry flavor.   But that “my time” fell hard on Murphy’s dog bed which resembles a white water rafting craft.  Large enough for three dogs or one dog and two humans, or two dogs and one human.  Doesn’t matter, it’s large enough for me to flop down on and not wake up in time to get out my laptop and begin to post.  I woke up an hour later with a fuzzy head on top of my own.  Drool and tennis ball in her mouth as she slept.  I’ll never understand.  And perhaps she is the reason I changed my mind on the blog topic.


What if we just took the time to slowly watch our lives play out.  What if planet earth stood still.  Would we?    I listen to the news, it shows up on my news feed, it’s everywhere.  Even poolside conversations begin to become somewhat political.    I’ve avoided Facebook for this very reason.   We can go from wishing everyone Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday to – she’s this and he’s that.   We worship celebrities and give thanks to those who make an appearance at a peace walk.  We give materialistic views the priority instead of thinking about how we, ourselves can take “us” out of the priority.   I hear hatred and bitterness in the voices of adults.  How are we to expect our children to become better “people”.   Yes, the beautiful quotes and photos of people from all walks of life holding hands, embracing, smiling together makes us feel there is hope.  But what happens when these Facebook pictures, tweets and peaceful protest become like every other novelty?    We move on with our lives.  Purchase the latest technology.   Watch our lives move in the fast lane.   We forget what happens until….until another tragedy takes place.


I won’t pretend I’m not worried about what is about to unfold come November.   But I refuse to become the very reason we protest, hate, discriminate, and can only speak of what is happening in our fast lanes.    Who’s right and who’s left?    I don’t care who’s lane your in.   I’m going to care about you either way.    Even if you don’t care about my lane.  But you will not find me pushing into another lane to prove my point.   You won’t find me switching lanes because I refuse to hold on to my values and morals.   But you will find me working hard to stay in my lane – and working to slow down my speed.   I don’t want my life to play out without me watching every moment of it.   We may not be able to change our schedules or routines.   But I’m going to try with all my will to watch it.  Watch life.

I know sleeping with a tennis ball in my mouth looking completely peaceful is out of the question.   But I did watch for a moment – eyes closed tight – looking as if life is carefree and in the slow lane.

Lessons from a dog.   One very happy and peaceful dog.





To You…


Mother’s Day.   noun.  A day of the year where mothers are honored by their children.  A day to celebrate and/or honor.

On this Mother’s Day I would like to honor you.  My followers, my fellow bloggers and to one of my mentors who inspires me the most to write, Brenda.

The month of May is always jammed with “somethings”.    This year we have just about every weekend on the calendar marked with either a vacation, a party or an event to attend.  As much as I can’t wait to see family, friends and a sandy beach….May is going to come and go before I know it.  So I requested this Mother’s Day – the actual day of our celebration and/or day to be honored, we I do absolutely nothing.  We get home Saturday evening from an office event and honestly I would love to just do nothing!   My family feels my nothing filled day will stop me from having the opportunity to be honored, or celebrated and taken out for a nice dinner where we can sit with other mother’s eating al fresco and……

There is one place I would like to go.  To a garden center in Frederick.   I love Frederick Maryland.  I will purchase more herbs to plant in my container garden, and we can stop at my favorite hole in the wall and eat crab cakes.  And even Murphy may join in the fun!

Mother’s Day is whatever you, mom, mommy, mother, momma want it to be.  You’re honored and celebrated no matter what is on the menu.

So I would like to say Happy Mother’s Day to you!

With daisies and hugs,

Momma Daisy 13151790_710379425732372_53117142505798991_n



what’s in a number?

I have been thinking about my age.   Before this year, I never really put a lot of stock in the whole numbers thing.   Like when 40 became the new 30.   60 was the new 50.   To be honest, I sometimes forgot my age!   One year I needed to make sure I was actually turning a certain number with my husband.   He laughed and corrected that number.   My father would forget his number.   My mother…not so much.   She always new her number.

I had a coffee chat with one of my friends who just so happens to be in my number bracket.   Meaning…we are over the 40 bracket but under the 60 bracket but our number falls between them.   Somewhere it falls.   I do have a few friends who fall below the 40 bracket.   Their numbers are so far behind my number, they couldn’t possibly get confused on what number awaits them.

As the coffee got cold our conversation became a hot topic.   Aging.   Celebrities don’t age.  Their number goes up but their outer container becomes air tight and sealed like a brand new Rubbermaid container.    I don’t find myself standing at Wegmans checkout looking over the oodles of magazines that stare at you while waiting your turn to pay for the junk food you really didn’t need.   Blame that on aging.   Celebrities don’t purchase five bags of Tate’s Chocolate Chip Cookies.    They have someone holding them accountable for even looking at the name.  Before they even think about it – something pinches their Rubbermaid container under their designer jacket and it stops them in their tracks.  Like an E-collar for your dog.   I should probably invest in the E-collar for myself.    Unlike the celebrity, I find myself blaming my downfall of the five bag purchase of Tate’s on menopause and the fact my number is rising and I need the yummy sweet – just because I do.

Placing aside my uncontrollable urge to devour anything chocolate or remotely rich in cocoa – let’s get back to this number thing.

I’m coming up on another number.  While Miriam asked me how I was feeling because I’m coming up on another number even though her number is two ahead of mine…..I can honestly say I answered her honestly.    I don’t feel any different.   Physically there is a difference from my number five or six years ago…there have been changes in our lifestyle that brought my physical container to slow down.   I haven’t been running for months.  That’s about to change, but my focus for so long has been my family, my father who doesn’t live close by, my mother-in-law who doesn’t live in our state, and my husbands business that keeps him in a constant state of busyness.   I returned the question to Miriam, and as we learned that we agreed on the number thing…it’s just a number.   We disagreed on how to react to the “it’s just a number”.     It’s your birthday number.   The day you were born.   A day to celebrate and continue to feel blessed or grateful to see what waits ahead when your next number awaits you.

I feel blessed.  I’m grateful.   And today I’m not as tired as I was last Sunday.  But today is not quite over and tomorrow will come before I know it.     If Murphy and September sleep in before my alarm goes off at 5:15am I’ll feel like the forty year old I once was!    If not, I’ll stay the number I currently hold and begin my morning yoga with a few yaps and meows.  Coffee then yogurt.  A beginning run after taking Apple to school.    I can’t run away from those numbers… I may as well join them.

Care to join me?





Book Hoarder


I love to read.  And I love to collect books.   I honestly can not remember when I started hoarding books my obsession  for collecting books.  And though I may not have read each and every book that sits on my book shelf stack, I will one day do just that………..

As I was typing a draft for Momma Daisy…..I  glanced over at my book shelf stack.  I went back to typing.  And glanced back once again.

Oh, my gosh, I thought to myself!   I don’t even have a book shelf anymore!   The adorable vintage whitewashed book shelf that once sat beside my work desk… that actually matched my work desk is no longer visible.  It’s gone!

The 51 [I counted]  books are lined up not even in alphabetical order or stacked by width or color or length or age or…..  they are just stacked in a sloppy heap of text.  Paperbacks are under hardbacks, antique books are used as a “bridge” for the heavier literature that has no where to go but under and over.

There are those safe and happier books that are perched on our  large mantel.  These antique books are part of my early collection – or my precious novels and journals that were given to me as  gifts.   LeeAnn presented Apple Cheeks with Milne’s 1954 edition of “The World of Pooh”.   It’s safe LeeAnn, on the mantel!

My goal for the day.  Organize my books.  Each and every book.

While walking Murphy around the nature preserve, I planned out how this book organization was going to take place.  First thing first is find the book shelf.  Secondly, find the other two thousand books that are hidden throughout my home.  I say two thousand because that’s the figure my husband throws out to me after we have the hundredth discussion on me getting a Nook or E-book.   It’s the same answer…”no thank you”.   My husband is a reader, he reads every night.  And he is the owner of the electronic hand held devise that has the cute and bright light for night time reading.   I prefer the smell of a book.  The sound of pages turning.   The weight of the book as it hits my head while I fall asleep.       I just like books.  Period.

I found the vintage whitewashed book shelf.   And…I found four Rubbermaid bins that are holding at least…..two hundred books!    I sat there going through the books, reminiscing and reading through chapters, tagging some of the books with sticky note paper.  Which books will be “summer reads” or “must read again” went on a separate pile.    Though some books were rather boring, long and sleepy reads….I’m keeping them. They went on the bottom of the bin.          One never knows…I just may open my own library.  Or book shop.  As for the stack of books that distracted me….the books are still as is.  The shelf is sitting in our office.   The Rubbermaid bins are back in the office closet.   Murphy and I went out for another walk as I smiled thinking to myself….I love books.  And my books are going to sit on the floor unorganized and sloppy.   That is until I really get motivated to organize and rearrange them.  Or until I get tired of looking at the unorganized and sloppy arrangement.   But I’m sitting here now typing and I can see my messy unorganized sloppy arrangement of books I so love.  If you listen closely….you can even hear the whisper of their pages.   Or maybe that’s my inner voice telling me to organize that sloppy stack of books!


I’m a book hoarder collector.  And that makes me happy.