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March 8, 2019: Alternate Title

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A good start to a cold week in Omaha Life is a combination of moments in time. How we react to these moments by our actions and words is what defines them. It’s when I act with intention and allow myself the mindfulness of the moment that I find the greatest rewards in the most unlikely places. This story was no exception. If I were to properly title this blog, I would have called it The F*ck Man. Apologies to anyone I am offending with the language, but I am quoting and want to keep the story real. And the man really did say f*ck a lot. Instead I am going with an alternate title. My story begins at the Boise airport. It was my second attempt to fly back to Omaha after weather-related changes in flights a few days previously. With another wave of storms hitting the Midwest and a connecting flight through San Francisco to still deal with ,  I was feeling a little on edge. Arriving at my gate early, I made a quick call to my second son, Ben. We caught up with...
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Own Your Shit

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  A few weeks ago my previously favorite blog subject (otherwise known as my middle son, Ben) called me for advice. The reason isn't significant now, but his approach to the conversation carried weight with me. "Mom, I need your advice on something. And before we even go there, what I am going to tell you is completely my fault. I get all the life lessons around it. What I want is just advice. So can we just put that all aside and stick to advice on my situation?" I respected Ben's ask and we had a productive conversation. He sought out advice from others and ultimately came to a good conclusion. Owning his shit and life lessons acknowledged early on,  I am pretty confident Ben won't be in the same situation again. I have always felt that a top responsibility in parenting is to teach our kids to think critically on their own. A specific skill that falls squarely in this category and high on my list is the ability to own your shit. To accept blame when due. To know...
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February 8, 2020: Old Guy and Me (our new normal)

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We got our new cards and no mug shots this time! Durango life is beginning to feel very normal. Our new normal. I just did the math (of course) on our number of days here. With my time away in Indiana to move Larry, Garrett's travel for work, and Larry coming in late to the game, here are our individual stats on days lived in Durango: Garrett - 31 days Sandy - 30 days Larry - 25 days In that short span of time, we have accomplished a lot. And more importantly, we have no reservations on our new city. We are loving it here. With my loft office above the family room and kitchen, I often play favorite vinyls from our combined collection of Larry's and my records. This afternoon I had yet to put on Artie Shaw or Johnny Cash. Instead he and I chatted about the day and what was to come for the rest of the weekend.  Old Guy (nickname given before my time BTW) had just sat down in his favorite chair with his favorite blanket (knit by his mom, Mabel) which has trav...
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