Tales of the Ordinary Days

"Are we back to normal again?" I heard my father-in-law, Larry (aka Old Guy), asking Garrett this as I laid in bed.  Garrett was performing his morning ritual of coffee bean grinding before brewing our morning specialty coffee. This was after he had read and stretched, all while I was still thinking about waking up. Through the crack in the door, I could see Larry sitting, feet up, in his favorite sofa spot. Jake, my step-son, was noisily filling his large water jug for a day in the sun at his summer job. This clanging of ice at 7 am along with the permeating coffee aroma and Larry's shuffling have been my morning wake-up routine of recent times. With my delivered cup of hot java, I hear the sounds of the morning; the garage door opening with Garrett taking Jake to work and the percolating of Larry's own coffee of choice, Folgers, in his Mister Coffee machine. His own pot to drink through the morning while enjoying his latest book. Yes, Larry, I think we are ...

"Made by Mary" tag proudly sewn on inside of pajama top (Brutus to my right. Photo cred Garrett) My mom made my jammies and I love them. I love them a lot. Enough that I packed them for our last out-of-town trip, and most trips for that matter. They are my cozy, go-to, favorite nightwear. Typically paired with a fluffy sweatshirt or furry slippers, this black flowered combo is starting to show some wear, but will likely be falling apart before I part with them. As a child, my mom sewed a majority of my clothing. Having store-bought clothes was rare and only for special occasions or items too difficult or expensive to sew (winter coats, socks, sweaters...). This was such a norm in my life that until junior high, I didn't know other kids bought a majority of their clothing. My mom would spend hours going through bolts of material, carefully planning our next season wardrobes and choosing patterns to complement our sizes and personalities. Wardrobe by mom My fon...

Day 23 | 30 Days of Writing Last night in Kingman Today was our last day in Kingman before we hit the road again. It doesn't feel like we've been gone for over a week. In fact, thinking about being back home next Sunday made me a little sad. Our epic road trip is living up to expectations and going by way too quickly. I also noted that my 30 day writing exercise coincidentally ends with day 30 being the night we pull back into our driveway. Thoughts were starting to stir on which writing project I should take on next. Mom helped relieve me of this decision. I am now officially on the the writing team for the Pick Family History book. We spent the afternoon going through Mom's mounds of documents, files, and research with her. Google file sharing will be our saving grace as other contributors include mom's brothers in DC and Indiana, and sister in Idaho. My very organized mother white-boarded her outline of the book contents with many notes on key points...

Mom & Me selfie outside Del Webb Wellness Center in Kingman, AZ I recently talked to a friend about pursuing her passion in her next career. Currently in between jobs, she is looking to jump from the insurance world to the hospice world. Most would see this as a leap of faith. I see it as a great fit and a huge asset to those who will benefit from her strengths and desire to serve her greater purpose. My friend's husband died many years ago. Raising her child on her own after a lengthy period of caring for her young, ailing husband, I see no one better equipped to help others work through end-of-life. As we talked through her transition and desires, I immediately thought about a favorite book of mine, "Being Mortal" by Atul Gawande. The author, a practicing physician, argues that quality of life is the desired goal for patients and families. Gawande tells wonderful real-life stories of elderly and hospice care demonstrating that the last years or months of ...

My current view My mom has been in town this week. The last time I saw her was on a visit to Arizona while I was taking a time off from my work life. Now months later and with me fully back on the work treadmill, I found myself making a comment to her on more than one occasion. "Mom, I am so busy. How did I let this happen again?" I swore myself to a more serene lifestyle after smelling the roses during my months off of work. Instead I have found myself shuffling calendar entries and running from back-to-back engagements and meetings. Although I have been wildly successful in my quest to work with the right people on the right projects, I've somehow left out the balance of leaving some time for myself. Sometimes ones self is the best study of human nature. I have come to realize that what was good for me 20 years ago is different now. What I desire for daily personal time and replenishment of energy is much different today. I will rack that up to age and human e...

Love abound? Probably not... Cleaning up my e-mail archives, I stumbled on a story my mom shared with my nephew and then later shared with me. My first ordinary day as the little sister... Sandy Wagner: home from the hospital 9/16/67 Dear Josh, Aunt Sandy turned 46 years old last Friday, the 13th. After getting home from the hospital on the 16th, I laid Sandy on the sofa and called Matt & Mark to come in the house from the backyard. Babysitters Gma & Gpa Gib were going on and on about our new pink bundle of joy while both boys walked very carefully to investigate what warranted so much attention. They got real close to her face for a really good look. Who to blame? I don't remember, but someone flipped the top of the blanket over Sandy's face. No longer interested and impatient to play again, they left the room to go back outside. I wish I could describe Gma Gib's reaction and Gpa Gib's laugh. Gma Gib was a little less complementary a few minutes lat...

Mom and her famous wreaths As I read people's Christmas posts and their words of fond holiday stories from years past, I'm reminded of the little things that rest in our happy memories. It really is the sights, sounds and smells of the season that linger. My own personal treasure chest of memories may seem incidental to most, but these little bits of Christmas fill my heart with emotion each time I reflect... The warmth of the stove on my three-year old back as I sat next to it, playing with my magnetic alphabet set. I was allowed to open one gift early on Christmas Eve. An act of charity as I was home bound with the Chicken Pox. We did not go to our grandparents that year. Mom cooked a turkey and our little family stayed home. The sight of a three-wick candle burning brightly in the formal living room. The lights were dimmed with Elvis singing Christmas carols from vinyls in the background. Our record player was a large piece of furniture used to display our favorit...

The year we were busted. Cousin, Adam, is nestled in the middle. I have always enjoyed the joy of a great surprise. Growing up, I would often asked to be surprised with gifts rather than having each present chosen to my specifications. Unwrapping a pink flowered robe on Christmas day, knowing my mom had picked out this retail treasure just for me, was bliss. My brothers, on the other hand, did not buy into my naive wonderment. Their Christmastime goal was to uncover every hidden treasure and unwrap in advance of Christmas Day. And no matter how hard I tried to resist their Grinch antics, I would ultimately cave. I was a willing participant in a trio of holiday hi-jinx. The year of note was during our pre-teen years. Old enough to babysit ourselves, our parents would leave us alone when they would go out. During the holiday season, they were gone most weekends socializing. The minute Mom and Dad would walk out the door to go out to dinner or to a holiday gala, we three kids wou...

Guest blogger and family historian, Mary Wagner, contributed today's blog post... John & Mary (Smith) Galles Family, Remsen IA in the 1940’s   The John & Mary (Smith) Galles family members are John, Mary & children Lenora (Mrs. Dan Raher), Hilary, Armella (Mrs. Fred Heidesch),  Julius, Alphonse, Louis, & my mother-in-law Marie  (Mrs. Gilbert Wagner).  The children blessed John & Mary with thirty-three grandchildren. Married February 4, 1896, St. Mary’s Catholic  Church, Remsen IA, it was a steadfast belief in God & prayer  that guided them  throughout their lives as farmers in Plymouth County/northwest Iowa.  Proud, hard workers, honest & unassuming describes both Mary & John with John the quiet one and Mary, less quiet.  Pivotal to the Galles Family were family, church & work with a little fun thrown in for good measure. Courtesy of Mary (Pick) Wagner