Today, I Need Comfort!

You probably have days like this, too! And the details don’t really matter all that much. Huge concerns. The edge of tears. Loss. Anxiety. One rainstorm too many. (Hopefully) random sneezing. The letting go after a worried day.

The sky really isn’t falling, which doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like it is!

So, what helps?

Well, in my case, some time in Zoom-land with a tribe of curious women in touch with their dreams and happy to play with ways to make those dreams into reality.

Which inspired me to make some placement art out of a few of my favorite things. I started with a stockpot, which is considerably more photogenic than the bones thawing in the fridge.

A pitcher of stand-by roses, holding space for the real ones which will one day reappear in the garden.

A white near-candle, safe light in the realm of big, hairy dogs.

A magic paint brush.

My tiny hand-carved wild goose which, courtesy of my friends in Scotland, is a reminder of the presence of the Spirit, even on droopy days.

The beginnings of a new painting for the friend in the midst of some of this week’s worries. Safe and well. (Don’t worry… the colors will change!)

And, if you squint just a bit, my four year old sign of hope, standing tall among the arugula in the garden.

Yes, I’m still all in. Especially after today’s statement. It all boils down to just this… the greatest good for the most people.

Yesterday I did an interview about my book, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope.

The magic, like some of today’s, happened in Zoom-land with a new friend I’ll introduce you to soon.

Angela and I had a great conversation. And, as we chatted, people were voting.

According to the exit polls, more of them voted out of fear than of hope.

I understand the fear. More, perhaps, every day.

But part of my journey, my promise to my girls and myself, is to keep acting out of hope.

I’ll admit it’s been a bit of a challenge today. So, just in case I need more reminding, I’m off to make some prayer dots. Forty six of them, to be exact.

And, tomorrow?

Paint peeps. Meetings. Dots. Soup. Hope. And room for you.


I missed the equinox!


I missed the Autumnal Equinox this year. I was in Florida, still trying to get my friend busted out of intensive care, which is no place to know what light and dark are doing.

Today was the official first day of fall at our house.

Date brunch!

Our home away from home, The Corner Pub. Just in time to get a table on the patio.

It was 70 degrees, with the brilliant blue sky that only happens at this time of year, spot on at 12:30 pm.

A favorite springy rocker outdoor chair.

Baskets of grilled chicken wings, hot, fresh and delicious.

A mellow Chardonnay.

A sweet doodle-ish service dog who wanted to be friends. Especially with the pocket in my denim vest where the dog treats live, just for events like this.

A bit more practice than I would have liked, sending love to the yellow jackets flitting around the table. It’s a growing edge for me. And a reminder that it’s Epi-pen season again.

A few quiet minutes to plan the winter garden, plot on the weeds, and get everybody on board with the next steps in my soup extravaganza.

Then, a huge freight train trundling by. It reminded me of Taylor when she was little, waving at a similar train in the same place.

And then I saw it! A shipping container bearing the swirly signature of an unknown grafiti artist…”Bernie” in bright red, white, and blue paint.

While two little train fans cried because there was no caboose.

Good times, now and then…


Does anybody really know what time it is?

This has been a major question at our house for a long time now.

When Dave was in 8th or 9th grade, he got obsessed with the idea that time didn’t really exist and was just something somebody made up to try to organize the world. And him.

While this was, in my mind, an inconvenient perception on his part, I must admit he was in pretty good company. Aristotle. Einstein. Stephen Hawking. Not to mention a whole lot of Zen sorts of folks who are still reminding us to stay “in the moment.”

One of the ways this played out at our house, back in the day, had to do with being late for school. Or, more specifically, for the school bus. I have to admit, part of me suspected he was just exercising his adolescent duty to drive me nuts.

This went on for years.

Finally, by the time he was a senior, I figured it out. No more nagging. No more yelling. Just $5.00, cash, payable up front for the Mom-taxi to school.

The first time he thought I was kidding. The second, he raced up the steps, cash in hand, asking if we could leave now. Learning had occurred!

Bill and I have other issues about time.

The light came on for me at a workshop in Neuro-linguistic programming.

It wasn’t just us! People do time differently.

Simply put, there are primarily In-time people and primarily Through-time people.

Bill is an In-time kind of guy.

I am Through-time. 

Here’s what this looks like on just about any weekend at our house:

Me: What time do you want to leave for lunch?

Bill: Well, I need to check on the world and work a while and bike.

Me: I hear you. What time do you want to leave?

Bill: Let’s aim for 12:30.

Me: Your time zone or mine?

Almost always, I’m ready to go at 12:30. (The dogs are a bit of a wild card.)

Bill is almost always in the shower by 12:30. And he usually doesn’t have more than three or four more things to squeeze in before we go out the door.

He really doesn’t think of things in terms of clock time. I do. Hunger is often a factor.

There’s no good/bad or right/wrong here. Just two very different perceptions of moving through the universe.

After 27 years of marriage, I’ve almost stopped thinking he’ll change. Instead, I’m changing me.

I try to be calmly clear ahead of time about occasions when I really need him to live in my time zone. Airplanes. Readings by Anne Lamott. Appointments with the vet.

As he usually drives, charging him $5.00 is somewhat less effective than it was with Dave!

The rest of the time, I take deep breaths and remember that different makes life more interesting and there might just be some bigger questions in the world right now.

Does anybody really know what time it is?

About this time last year we learned that there’s a guy from Vermont who does know, come hell or high water.

It’s time to try and make the world a better place.

Bernie’s still doing just that. And he’s still inspiring yyuge numbers of us to do the same thing.

Donating to food pantries. Calling members of Congress. Growing organic vegetables. Running for office. Marching. Persisting. Voting with our wallets. Tutoring kids.

You can’t do it all yourself. Neither can I.

Here’s what we can do.


Make one thing better. Every day. One thing.

Write a letter. Pick up a phone. Donate a bunch of stuff you don’t need to your favorite charity. Help make dinner for a shelter. Rescue a dog. Support Planned Parenthood. Encourage somebody else. Write a poem.

Whatever moves your heart. MOTB!

And, lest we encourage our inner perfectionists, maybe five or six days out of seven would be a better goal.

Think of what a difference that could make!

It’s time.







A Different Message for Mothers’ Day…

Truth time? For lots of people, Mothers’ Day is hard. Think about it. Perhaps your mom has passed on, as mine has. Perhaps your kids and grandkids are far away. Perhaps you’re a single Dad who is being both parents at once. Perhaps your family did not work in the way you needed it to. Perhaps you, or dear friends of yours, have lost children, or wished for them and not had them. Perhaps your children are suffering in their own lives. Perhaps… Perhaps… Perhaps…

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Sue Boardman, Certified Intentional Creativity®
Color of Woman Teacher & Coach