"Take chances, make mistakes. That's how you grow. Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave." (Mary Tyler Moore)
Hello,my lovely friends!
The snow's playing a vanishing act, a fleeting white whisper against the thaw. But don't stow your mittens just yet! Next weekend a dusting is on the horizon, a gentle reminder that winter still holds the stage. And let's be honest, March? That's when the snow really throws its best party. So, while the landscape breathes a sigh of relief, remember, we're just hitting the reset button on moisture, not the spring countdown.
Okay, confession time: my house is officially staging an intervention. It's been a while since the carpets saw the light of day, and the drapes are practically whispering, 'Clean me.' So, this week, Operation Spring Cleaning is a go! Since 'travel' currently means a trip to the fridge, we might as well make our home a place we actually love hanging out in. Plus, we've been dreaming up some changes – you know, finally making this place ours. And speaking of dreams, I have this whole plan for the den. It's currently a 'Dad's stuff/random junk' zone, but I want to turn it into my mom's art studio. She's always talking about painting and creating, but she's the queen of putting herself last. I'm determined to make her a space that screams 'You deserve this!
Mom's pain is a rollercoaster, up and down, a daily struggle against a cocktail of meds, now including cannabis gummies. It's a hard pill to swallow, literally and figuratively, for her to see me going into a dispensary. But they work, and that's what matters. I've seen improvements, moments of clarity and ease, but then the pain strikes again, a cruel reminder. It's tough seeing her like this. I'm just hoping this current surge is finally subsiding, for her sake and mine. It's a weight on my shoulders, a constant worry in the back of my mind. I try to be strong for her, to offer a smile and a comforting presence, but sometimes it's hard. I see the toll it takes on her, the way it steals her joy and energy. But she's a fighter, my mom. She never gives up, always searching for a way to manage the pain, to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. And I'll be right there beside her, every step of the way, offering my support and love.
Thank you for stopping by! Wishing you a day/evening/morning filled with sunshine, laughter, and perhaps a little bit of magic. Until next time, ta-ta for now!
