A normal day

This morning I was up before 5. I heard a distinctive grumbling from the other side of the room.

Normally, I would have shouted back some language I am working hard on not using. Normally, I would have been hurt and angry.

Not today.

Why not?

In a meeting I realized that my reactions are not cool. I realized that I can not continue to punish him or myself for every mistake we have ever made.

I can not keep a list of every little time someone hurts me and hold it over them like a bloody axe. What I can do is gather more information.

So I did.

I handled it. Quietly.

I want this to be my new normal.

Thanks for reading my blog.



Weirdness prevails

Valentines came on the farm and now I am in Minnesota. I woke up this morning with 3 males in bed with me. That is just plain odd. I don’t sleep with the hounds anymore on the farm. However, you know, life goes on.

This morning’s coffee is a weak blend of decaf instant, hazelnut creamer, and artificial sweetener. It’s the little things that count. Those of you who knew me in my scrubs wearing days remember that I used to go for the stronger the better. I would have called you insane if you told me that I would prefer weaker coffee than that. I would have laughed and turned away.

My tums bottle is running low, better add more to the grocery list.

I have been hitting the meetings while in town. It’s a very good thing. I have been to a total of four meetings this year. That unacceptable, and I just can not continue to live this way. I had always lived a sobriety comes first life. I let life get in the way of sobriety. There were quite a few black or dark days in the last month.

That is not good eats.

When I get to the point that I am writing, “Find a reason to live” in my bullet journal over and over, I know I have taken it just a bit too far.

So, what has to happen?


To give hope for the future, I worked on my life’s plans. I have decided that after Dad’s life runs its natural course, I will return to the land of twenty zillion mosquitos and town life. While I love the farm and all it entails, farm life, in the long run just isn’t for me.

Oh, I will return to the state of my birth every month for family time and grocery shopping etc… but I just cannot see getting a tiny apartment somewhere and spending my end days listening to the neighbors argue.

What about my gun and reciprocity? I will take the official certified courses in order to satisfy the governments of both states. It’s that simple.

It sounds like I have solved all of it in one go.

Actually, I haven’t. I still have to hit the steps pretty hard, both physical and recovery wise. I still have to attend meetings. I still have to live the program. I still have to survive.

This winter, I haven’t thrived. I have stagnated. I can tell the difference.

So, without further ado, I better get my arse in gear and get my morning step work done. Huge huggage. Take care, L

Updating the Bullet Journal and following directions

It has been that season of the year again. For a couple of months now, social media and YouTube has been flamed with diy planning ideas. There are the scrap book styles of Bullet Journal, the simple versions, the combo journals, and everything in between.

I am a combo planner. I have a travelers notebook style bullet journal. I try to keep the artsy crafts crap to a dull roar. Yea, there is washi tape in my journal. I use it sparingly. Very sparingly. It adds bulk to an already bulky system, and I seriously don’t want to haul it everywhere I go.

I don’t tape in photos, printouts, or stickers. I don’t have all the pens, because they bleed through and that defeats the purpose. I also don’t have the most expensive notebooks in my travelers notebook.

My travelers notebook is one I made myself.. I used old planners or scraps of leather for my notebooks. I used dollar store and walmart cheap notebooks, some cut to fit. I use colored pencils when necessary, and crayons.

I am cheap.

Now, if you haven’t had a stroke, and run for the hills….

I’ve been tap dancing around flylady for years now. I am working on the baby steps yet again. However, instead of a control journal, I have a bullet journal. I own a copy of her book, and I also own a copy of many of the source books for her system. So, in one notebook of my TN, I am slowly adding lists.

My long term collections list book gets these. I have routines written down. I have The master grocery lists, and I am still adding to those. I have the “Zone lists” and when the house is decluttered, I will adopt the zone system. So, adding flylady, adapted to my lifestyle, with major input from sidetracked home executives, just makes sense.

What adaptations am I adding?

Morning routine.: She has a master list of stuff she does. That is great, but not really necessary. I put the things down that I actually do. Until I purchase a dishwasher, I don’t have to unload a non existent machine. I do however get up and let the dogs out. I do read Dear Abbey and update my journal. I make coffee, and my bed. I study, write and knit. I take my vitals, including blood sugars, and eat breakfast. Then I get dressed. Screw the shoes, I hate them. Even in winter, for emergency purposes, I can be found outside, untangling a dog chain barefoot.

I check on any shipments that are scheduled, I look over the days plans, and I get busy. I do my 11th step. I make and receive phone calls, and I check in with family and friends via text.

On website update days, I check with my client, and make any changes necessary.

The bedtime routine, is much simpler.

I take a shower, set out the next day’s clothes, take my vitals, and do my tenth step lists. I then play a computer game, or read after journaling as I go to bed.

That’s about it.

I am throwing a few 27 fling boogies, and a few hotspot fire drills into my day for now, and the crisis cleanings into every day. I’m not jumping into the deep end of the pool, because I just can’t swim.

A couple of updates that are needed on her website though, is that technology has dramatically changed since she wrote that book, and since Pam Young wrote hers. I wear a smart watch. I can ask the watch to set a timer. My emergency contacts are in the cloud. Most reminders come from the cloud as well, either on the watch, or my smart phone.

So, why the hell do I carry a bullet journal yet?

Because the physical act of writing slows my overactive brain down. It’s the time that I take, pen in hand, that gives my brain time to see what my day really is like. Notes, ideas, meeting notes, appointments, everything goes into my bullet journal. Doctors visit notes go in there, gift ideas, project plans go inside. Patterns for knitting and crochet. Sewing ideas, and tracking my medical. It’s what works. Most importantly, my recovery goes in my planner. And that is where my life eases up.

I better get back to it. I am expecting a yarn swift and ball winder via fed ex this morning. It’s a good thing.


Another town day

Here I sit at 7:30pm, waiting for the dogs to come in. It’s stinking cold outside, and I don’t want them to have problems out there. I have a cup of decaf in front of me.

The terrible two had to come to town with me today. Dad requested I go to Campbell’s Supply and pick up some desperately needed gear. Since it was a quick trip, the hooligans had to come along. We have a rule that the monsters are not outside unsupervised during specific hours.

Those hours fell during my run to town time. The monsters, have been trained well for car rides. Duke keeps the van safe, and Jesse is in training for backup protection.

On our return home, I delivered the gear, talked to Dad, and got back to work.

Footnote on yesterday’s post. The new medicine is working exceptionally well. My blood sugar levels are way down.

In the plans is a trip to Minnesota next week. I have work to do there. There are also friends to visit, ideas to share and a new clubhouse to see.

Other than that, it’s time for supper. My sugars are dropping, and I better get to it.