dare to be different, fitness and nutrition

Sense of Direction

It’s true, I’m getting older.

As I age, I notice that certain things are starting to deteriorate. Today’s example: my sense of direction.

When I was young, I would read Atlanta’s Creative Loafing newspaper every Thursday or Friday. I’d check out the list of festivals, events, art openings, even new music releases, and make my weekend plans. I’d pull out my mom’s Atlanta road atlas and set on my coordinate spree to map my weekend adventures. From these jaunts week after week, year after year, I got to know my way around Atlanta inside and out.

These days, I can hardly find my way around my little suburb without waze or google maps. If I’m somewhere without service, I get nervous and often guess the wrong direction. Such a change. It may not just be due to aging. Maybe more a combination of getting older and over reliance on technology. Still not a change I like, no matter the cause.

I spent the past week in a confusing condo building. Actually there were two buildings connected by bridges and corridors. There was also a parking garage. None of the connecting floors had the same number. Walk through a hallway from one building’s first floor and suddenly, without stairs or elevators, you’re on another building’s third. The garage was a totally different mess. I felt lost and disoriented much of the week.

After a couple of morning condo workouts, I went to the gym one evening to make sure I could find it from our room. The next morning I spent a half hour with dumbbells in the gym. After I was done, I decided to test myself and make my way back to the condo from the gym using stairs instead of the path I already knew.

I walked into the stairwell. When I opened the door, I was surprised to find an old man, slightly hunched over, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was short with groomed gray hair. He wore a cotton t-shirt, athletic pants and tennis shoes. He was there to exercise. He smiled at me.

Good morning, I said.

Are you still moving every day? he said,

Yes sir, I replied. I want to be sure I can move for as long as I can, so I try to do it first thing every day.

Good for you, he replied. I do the exact same thing. Keep it up. It’s so important.

And with that, one floor up, I walked out of the stairwell. He kept walking up the stairs. Up. Up. Up. Moving. Ascending.

It was like the (living) ghost of Christmas Future. Letting me know that taking time to move, for me, is what will keep me moving long term. I can feel confident when I get up and make my physical and mental health a priority each day. What others think of it is none of my business. My approval is what is required.

Did I find my way back to the condo? Happily, yes. And taking that different path gave me unexpected landmarks and signs. I’m heading in the right direction. It was a roadmap to the future I am heading toward, nimble and purposeful.

balance

New Spots or Spaces

I have a few new spots or spaces to find peace and recovery. These spots and places all have a purpose to me in their design but also in the usefulness over time.

A bench seat tucked in the woods. It’s not a fancy spot by any means. A resting place while taking the dog for an adventure. A place to sit and reflect on a crazy day. A peaceful spot away from others. The bench in the woods. 

The bike erg set under cover outside. A place to ride stationary for a secondary workout. Nestled in fresh air. Where you can hear and smell the rain and see and smell the flowers. A new scenery of sorts. Why not move the bike outside instead of staring at a wall. Maybe the miles on the bike will be less taxing based on the surroundings.

The gathering spot. The open air venue where I can bring people to gather. For a picnic. For cocktails. For community. Large enough to accommodate a big group yet small enough to be intimate. An eclectic place that is a quirky as me. This is a shared space or spot. A space I choose to share with others to offer to others what they may not have in their life. A spot or space that is as unique as them.

The thinking chair. The chair with a cozy and soft blanket. A place to write in the notebook or take notes on the digital device while others sit nearby in their own peaceful state. The thinking chair can be any chair. Mine is just where I choose to gather my thoughts and think about endless possibilities. 

The big top. The circus tent in my mind. The desert oasis type of tent. Set in a rustic wonderland. Cool breezes flowing through the netting. The smell of fresh wood, animals and water, a comfy bed to nap in. Chairs just outside should I dare to leave the comfort of the tent. My little writing nook. My special place to write new chapters. The place to imagine new endings or maybe even new beginnings.

Spaces and spots are important to me. Spaces and spots provide change and opportunities in my life. Rest in one place. Work in another. It’s a balancing act of sorts. Many will not understand and that is perfectly fine with me. 

I have a swing to add to my spots and spaces in the future as well. Another story to tell I’m sure. Stay tuned. This list is not all inclusive. I have many more spots and spaces but this blog isn’t a tell-all-be-all information site. These blogs represent a glimpse of life. A tidbit to upcoming books and so much more.

I wonder which chick wrote this post? Another question for readers I suppose. Author identity may or may not be shared in a post. You the reader may think you know but you really don’t know unless you ask.

Drop us a line whenever you are curious.

dare to be different

A Fahn Suhthun Lady

(A follow up to the recent post, Redneck Sweetheart. Check it out!)

I was born in Jawja.

Lived here all my lahf.

Except for that ill-advised detouah to Ohio for a few years round college time. They made fun of me for walking too slow in that infernal endless snow and saying y’all when I shoulda said, ahem, “you guys” all nasal or something else inelegant like that. Suhthun ladies roll sweet and slow off the tongue.

Before I go on, let me translate some of this for y’all, lest you find my Suhthun accent a distraction.

I don’t have a hoop skirt. Sweet tea is not my thing but there is no other soda (pop!?!?) than a Coke. I’m still a Suhthun lady through and through.

I blush at the mention of unmentionables. I am steely and will give you the side eye while saying “bless your haht.” I fan myself when I am flustered. Well I nevah would be so vulgah!

I am polite and don’t show up to a gathering empty-handed. To knock at a door without a casserole or even a simple mason jar filled with fresh picked blooms? Why my dear mother, rest her soul, would have been simply mortified!

I’m not all lace and doilies, mind you. I am gracious and refined at times, but will dig my hands in the dirt and grime. Just be sure I have a proper apron and brimmed hat. My fair Suhthun complexion demands protection from our hahsh climate.

I will bring you a snack when you’re hungry, refreshment when you’re pahched. I can quote the Bible, Flannery O’Connor, and Dolly Parton in the same afternoon chat. I am as well read as my farmily is well fed.

Many times I smile when I am angered. I’ve mastered the gentle art of holding my tongue when others try to ruffle my ruffles. Howevah, do not test my resolve. Do not mistake my quiet for ignorance or lack of passion. Do not confuse my kindness with any sort of weakness. I’m wise enough to realize most irritants are not worth my energy. But poking the bear too many times will bring her roaring to life. On that you can depend.

I will raise my voice at the right time. What comes out of these cultured and cultivated lips will surprise you. I don’t share my sharp and critical mind with just anyone, but if you earn yourself a piece of that mind with your vahl behaviah, well, bless your haht.

Back to minding my own business in my own hospitable way. Smiling politely. With a wink and a twinkle in my eye.

Don’t cross me.

challenges

It Was So Quiet

It was just so quiet one day at the house. You could hear the cars pass by on the road. You could hear the creaks in the floor. It was just quiet.

Then there was a fart. A long fluttering fart sound. Like a machine gun that was firing multiple rounds. It was loud. Like a series of firecrackers. It caused a big disturbance. The dog barks. The dog growls. The dog smells the air. The dog barked at the air. The dog sniffs the air again with discontented look.

I was in awe. The dog left the scene in pure disgust. Will the dog think about returning? I have no idea but this was so amazing to witness.

The sheer sound effects of the fart and its longevity in sound effects was probably one for a record book, but the reaction of the dog was absolutely memorable. 

The lingering hang time in air was flattering from an accomplishment perspective but the stench was just awful. I guess eating healthy has its benefits but sometimes can cause a gassy reaction.

But who actually farted? Why did I recount the story? How many will literally die laughing when they read it?

Well I read it back and laughed a good bit. I hope you enjoyed the fart encounter. It was a real life scenario. I experienced it first hand and I am happy to say I lived to tell the story.
Smell you stinkers later.

healthy hacks

Rising Rituals

Win the morning, win the day, to paraphrase author and entrepreneur Tim Ferris.

Life these days has me early to bed, early to rise.

Right now, a good morning starts the night before. I lay my clothes out for whatever the day may bring. If I am going to the gym, I pack my gym bag and work clothes and put them in my car. One less thing to worry about in the wee hours.

Coffee maker starts brewing at 4:15 am.

I start the day by preparing my coffee and lighting a candle. Something that smells good. The warm light is comforting and for some reason just adds to the quiet sense of this as my personal time and gift to myself.

Then I read for about 5-10 minutes. I just finished Obstacle is the Way and started Stillness is the Key. Then, I grab my 5 Second Journal. This journal was recently recommended to me by a friend. I jot my way through my daily schedule and morning thoughts. Probably the most helpful part is writing down the main project for my day. I am generally pretty scatterbrained and can get through a day without even touching the most important thing. Forcing myself to choose a priority helps me think ahead to getting that done. I also benefit from the hour-by-hour breakdown of the day as a bird’s eye view of what is ahead.

After reading, writing, candle, and coffee, the day may take one of two paths. I may have time for a quick errand or two…empty the dishwasher, pay a bill, or I might do some more extensive writing. If I am working out at home that day, I start my home workout.

By the time I really start moving, I feel productive. I feel relatively calm, centered, and directed. The day is going in the right direction. I blow my candle out and off I go!

My biggest challenge is staying off my phone throughout this process. Some days this is easier than others. I know I need to use my time productively and generally my phone scrolling is sort of mindless. I can also quickly lose 20 minutes and not know what happened. So I try to keep it to paper and pencil as much as possible.

My morning routine for the past few months. It wouldn’t work for everyone but it works for me. Sometimes this is the only time I have to myself all day. While I love and appreciate people, getting my mind right and having some time to just think and greet the day myself is helpful for finding my footing in this hectic and unsteady world. What do you do to start your day off right?