Author: admin

If I had to count the number of times I’ve cried in the shower… I couldn’t. 

I had that thought the other day as someone mentioned to me how strong I was.          Don’t get me wrong I’m a strong woman, of this I’m sure- but even in my certainty of strength, I’m reminded that sadly I have no super human powers. I am not able to leap tall troubles in a single bound, and nothing happens when I yell the word Shazam. 

So, from time to time, I take refuge in the shower. 

While traveling in Texas years ago, I sadly witnessed a woman get killed on the highway. It was raining, and every car on the road had their windows tightly rolled up, yet when her car lost control and was hit broadside by a bus that tore it in two…you could hear the screams of all the other drivers. I’m certain they could here mine as well. Hours later when I arrived at the hotel which had been our destination- I burst into tears telling my folks the story.  A few hours later, after over serving myself some gin and tonics, I sat in the shower crying and eating a snickers bar I had so pathetically begged  my husband to buy out of the vending machine… but that was a very unique circumstance. Those were not the tears of the every day worn down, mentally exhausted woman.

The every day worn down woman is outwardly strong. She’s working, keeping a clean house, keeping her children somewhat in order, and most times either juggling aging parents, a boyfriend, husband or a boss that have their own demands on her time and energy. 

The every day worn down woman, cries alone.   The “strong” women cry alone.

I think out of a need to feel in control, we don’t have our breakdowns in the the public eye. Instead we let our tears merge with the shower suds to go down the drain together.  We emerge back into public looking polished up like old copper.

Nobody is always strong.

Nobody is always strong.

A handful of years ago I had a surgery that went wrong, before I knew it I was the not so proud owner of a colostomy bag, a tired body and a bruised soul. Ive been told I handled it all like a champ, like the good strong girl I’ve always been. I broke down the first night home with my husband and kids despite their best efforts to distract me by playing old Saturday night live skits on YouTube.  After that night, I kept the tears to myself. 

I was “strong.”

It wasn’t until recently, while talking with the husband of one of my best friends that he mentioned his wife, this gal I love, takes refuge in the shower and cries out the days pain. I felt a pit in my stomach over his words, over this practice of crying alone. 

The sympathy I couldn’t muster for myself, I longed for her to have. 

Why do we not allow ourselves the comfort of company when we’re so low? 

Why do we need to cry in the privacy, and emptiness of our bathroom shower?

These are the things I think about, these are things I feel when I want what’s best for those I love. I just need to remember that the list of  people I love, needs to include myself. 

Till next time- Erin 

Recently I spent the afternoon making sock clothes for Barbie Dolls. Making sock clothes is a practice that came from my childhood- then moved up to when I myself was a mom and my daughter and I would rifle through the dreaded mismatched sock basket for something fun enough to turn into clothes. Now, her daughter and I assemble a handful of dolls, and also gather old socks (all these years later, it’s fun that the socks are nearly all colorful and with artwork)

They may have all started out life as a “Barbie” but they are so much more now.
We have the usual three names right out of the gate, Lucy (of course), Cindy and Betsy. The others we try to name but she’s always stuck on these three and eventually naming the rest isn’t important enough for us to worry about.

I’ve often wondered why there’s so much controversy about Barbie. I grew up with loads of Barbie dolls (they say the average girl has a dozen, I believe that to be a low estimate) I did not grow up believing my waist would be disproportionality small or my chest perky and big- I just wanted to play! I think back, and I don’t recall my Barbies coming with pre assigned jobs, although it’s possible they did. If so, that pre assigned job listed on the box would have gone in the trash with the twist ties and cardboard. I probably made them mostly Mommies~ unapologetically.

I guess my dreams were suppose to be Astronaut by day, flamingo dancer by night.
But they weren’t. I think that the sock clothes maybe put it all in perspective. I can’t be sure but my Barbie (who was probably named Kacie…my equivalent of Lucy) was busy hunting for the perfect sock’s to upscale into a posh jumper, a three holed shirt, or If I found an old tube sock of my brothers that wasn’t a dingy mess, a long gown. Kacie wasn’t too worried that the other girls at the party had on the latest colorful gown that Mattel put out- my Kacie, she was sensible and fun. Unique in her quirkiness, she entered every party confident in her sock wrap designs.

I’ll bet that she pursued her passions- she went on to have a house full of kids, she continued with her frugality and made sock clothes for each of them. She met Skipper for coffee or a margarita a couple times a week, she was a good neighbor and a good friend.

So this practice of sock clothes served me well. It served my daughter well, and it’s serving my granddaughter well. We discuss the up-cycle angle and the fact that we are saving a lot of money by not running out to buy new clothes. She has taken it a step further (because my Grandchildren are above average) and has figured out how to create shoes and handbags~ Not once during our clothes making did I get the impression that she will have a damaged outlook on herself. Never does she mention wanting to look just like them, only that designing clothes is fun and later that she might want to have whatever job it is that you can lay on the board with wheels and go under cars. I tell her that’s called a mechanic, and they work on cars. She smiles broadly, shaking her head yes.

The world is her oyster.

Till next time- Erin

Week three of the one hundred dollar challenge?
How are you doing?
If you’re new to the blog, know this…My posts go in order of publish date-so go ahead and seek out part one and two~ or read all the posts and hopefully enjoy getting to know me and my passion. You can double back to the rest of week three right here when you’re done.
Are ya saving money, or still making excuses?
Have you had it to save or have you made arrangements to earn the extra? Hopefully you’re moving forward, after all the rest of the world is not working to fulfill your passion.

Since last week I haven’t had to purchase much to add to my writing area. I’m keeping my eye out for a rug, and in the interest of saving money I have dug up an old desktop computer to use! Just like that, no money spent on a used laptop!

I did get a great deal on a clearance lamp at Lowe’s. Always the bargain shopper~ gotta love those yellow tags.
I love the lamp and it’s great for those three a.m. writing sessions because I’m not kicking on the overhead lights in the living room, waking up the rest of the house.

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I’ve decided to relocate an old dresser I use for storage, and I’ll take down my repurposed old garden fence to open up space to hang my artwork from last weeks post. So the vision will surely come to life by week five.

Change is still being saved, and dreams are moving forward
If you’re stuck, push through… think hard about why you’re letting your passion go unfulfilled. For me it was the idea that something I would be spending a chunk of time on would be for self fulfilling reasons. That seemed to indulgent. It wasn’t going to bring in money, and therefore felt wasteful. I quickly found out that time doing what fills your soul with joy is never wasted.

So I write.

Than, when I’m feeling selfish or wasteful, I write some more.

Till next time- Erin

Six a.m. and I’m already at the second airport of the day. Not a usual start to the day for this homebody. Here I am at O’Hare, if I were traveling with my Grandma Beer she’d ask “Where are they hanging the meat?” My last minute decision to grab my “Grandma” sweatshirt was the best decision I’ve made since throwing out the borderline chicken in the fridge. It’s freezing in here, or maybe it’s the blood thinners talking? Either way, I’m hunkered down wishing I had a blanket.

My hunt for the nearest Dunkin’ was a flop~ I could see it from the seat on my plane while we made our way to our gate but spent two thousand steps looking for it. My lack of sleep will kick my ass later today and coffee, as always is a must! Found a McDonalds, and thankfully the line was a mile long…us humans (sigh) a million choices but we are creatures of habit. My lack of patience leads me to a cafe with Spanish tacos, red roasted salsa and coffee! Worth the twelve bucks they are asking.
Thank you Chicago!

I spent a lot of sleepless time thinking about my blog last night- it was the chicken or the egg effect… could I not sleep because I was thinking about the blog, or did thinking about the blog make me not sleep? Either way, I am surprised by the path it has taken so far- I thought right out of the gate I would be trying out different jobs and business ideas, and I still want to do that. Passing a horse trailer daily that I talk about turning into a bar, redesigning the local ice cream shop in my head for the millionth time readying myself for the day it goes for sale and I can buy it- looking to do more baking and creating this winter… but for now, I hope you’ll stick with me while I tell some stories. While I reminisce out loud.

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I’m surprised that so many of my stories include my mom, and more than that is the fact that they are serious. With a name like “The last piece of pie” you know I thought the posts would be more humorous. Ya just don’t know till you begin to write. All I do know is that gratitude and calmness play a bigger roll in my life since I’ve been focused on my passion. So maybe just maybe the universe is telling me something.

Just this morning before my flight I looked around and thought “How many of these people are traveling and taking time away from their family for a job they hate?” Then I was seated next to a great gal who talked about how much she hates traveling and that leaving her three kids had her thinking about life changes every day. Food for thought, if your morning starts out with doom, and dread for the day- that’s your sign.

Adjust your life, make some changes.

It will be like a Buffett song and your changes in latitude will be your changes in attitude.

Till next time- Erin

Hello dream seekers, passion finders and flustered folks who don’t have any idea which way they are headed!

Since last weeks post “The $100 challenge” I hope you’ve started to save your pennies…(dimes, quarters and nickels too) as we are trying to put $20 a week away to add to the pursuit of our passion!

If you missed part one, please scroll down to post one and give it a quick little read. 

So, it’s week two- if your saving WOO HOO! If you’re anything like me, you’ll be looking for deals and maybe spending along the way! That’s the best way to get the deals!

While visiting family in Georgia I stopped by one of my favorite stores, Kirklands. What do I find inside, but a beautiful large print of an old typewriter, very similar to one I was given as a gift!

I knew I had to have it for my home. One thing you’d notice if you ever visited my home is that I don’t really have “artwork”.   My passion has always been my family and I decorate my home with photos almost exclusively! 

But, now I have this dream of my own writing area, and things changed. While at Kirkland’s I see this large print- priced at forty nine dollars but marked down to twelve! Evidently, you all are not searching for prints of typewriters as often as they thought you would be! (A win for me). I jumped at the chance to buy it!     I’m sure I gasped, or clapped or maybe even shed a tear as I do get overly excited at these kind of things. Just last weekend I literally started clapping upon entering an ice cream shop, because it was soooo cute, and looks just like the one I envisioned myself opening some day- they even had the same bowls I had picked out! But, that’s a passion post for another day, back to artwork…

So, I bought the artwork and I’m really happy with it! It’s bold, beautiful and my “statement piece”. With twelve of my forty dollars spent- I looked for another deal and won a long used hotel table over an online auction site- twenty six more dollar… gone, but the vision is coming together at this point!  It needing sanding and a fresh coat of black lacquer which I already had in my craft stash so I’m counting that as zero spent on improvements!

Time to start saving for another week! In the meanwhile, I’ve shopped within my house, gathering some pretty storage boxes from my closet- and of course I’m including my coveted angel who sits reading that Ive owned for over fifteen years. She was made to be an outdoor garden piece, but I’ve loved having her in my living room and have decided to promote her to my writing desk! 

So, as we wrap up part two of our challenge- keep in mind all the resources that are available today. Women in business groups, programs for start ups etc. Keep your eyes on the prize and know that it’s okay to take baby steps, it’s okay to be scared out of your wits- but it’s not okay to remain stagnant.

You’re worth more than that! 

Till next time-

Erin 

It is not uncommon for me to utter the words “You wanna run away with me?” to my husband at the end of a long day. It sounds soooo good to just utter the words. He always reminds me I’d get lonely for the kids and Grandkids, and before drifting completely off to sleep he will remind me that we’ve built a life we don’t need to run away from. He’s always got a good perspective. 

I’ve only ran away from home once-  When I was five years old. I don’t recall why but I’m sure I was as fired up as a sassy five year old could be. The youngest of five, with only eight years between myself and the oldest brother I’m sure somebody wasn’t wanting to include me in their activities and I had decided life would be better if I packed up and left. The details are a bit sketchy, but I remember I had a few items in a bag- I was still in pajamas and I was being sassy about leaving. I was handed a sack lunch by my mom who informed me I’d be getting hungry soon.  I believe it was also mentioned that I’d be taking care of myself now..a little reality check sprinkled in with some good old fashioned mom guilt for good measure.

Adventurous as I must have felt, I ended up across the street in the lawn of our church. I was very familiar with this spot. My best friend lived across the street from me, next to the church as her father was our pastor. We used to play on that lawn daily. I’m sure it felt welcoming and safe, and heck I crossed the street so I must have felt very independent! I ended up hunkering down under a pine tree. The boughs falling all the way to the ground,  I remember lifting the heavy branch to crawl under. I’m sure I settled in, feeling like I’d be there forever, but I’m not one to be alone- so when the bough lifted a short while later and it was my Dad telling me I had to come home- I didn’t resist too much. 

So, here I am now, the grown up. The Grandma for heavens sake, and still at least once a month I whisper “Can we run away?” to my hubby as he tries to drift off to sleep. It’s the restless nights where I’ve already tired my mind with the days business and the nonsense you think of when you can’t fall asleep…. What if monkeys could crochet? What happened to Mr. Thompson after eighth grade graduation? What ever happened to my childhood plastic animal collection?  But on top of the nonsense, there has been true deep thoughts about life’s purpose, life expectancies and legacies. Worry over our children and now Grandchildren. I mull this all over, nightly. Im in hot pursuit to not only become a better person but to be sure I am doing all I should with all this life has to offer. The phase “life is not a spectator sport” is very true, and I try to achieve and balance it all. Laughing, loving, struggling and celebrating. I am careful to never take the good moments for granted. Never run away from the life we’ve busted our backs to make. Never run away from a situation that is in front of us. I have faith that the outcome will be what the good lord intends. So, I’ll stay firmly planted. I’ll leave the runaway days to the five year old who felt lost in the shuffle. As I try to focus on building this passion filled life, I will remind myself that as long as I am settled in next to my man at night there’s no reason to run away, even if he’s willing to come with. 

This summer, I had a fun visit with my first friend. She was the one who lived in the house next to the church where I had taken refuge in the pine tree. We decided that we couldn’t be so close to our childhood homes and not take a trip down memory lane. Coffees in hand, we parked in the church parking lot where decades before we had played tag, and learned how to ride two wheel bikes. The empty field where we would have neighborhood ball games now was filled with homes. We stood on the stairs of her old home and recreated a photo of us taken the first day of kindergarten- I think we both felt a quick ping of pain for all the years that had passed.

About forty seven years have passed since I lifted the bough of that tree- but looking at it standing there all trimmed and grand I couldn’t help but think of that day.

I had to take a minute and sit under the tree again. I’m a sucker for sentimental moments, moments like this remind me that Ive never been one to wander far from my roots. Even at the age of five. 

A reminder that I don’t ever need to run away from home again. My heart is full where I am.

Till next time- Erin

Ugggg, here it is again. 

That feeling of want, and of wishing you were here. No surprise…been fighting it all day. I’ve done the usual tricks, I’ve avoided sappy songs, thought of only funny moments (which honestly only makes it worse) and told myself that I’m strong enough to not be reduced to tears.

Such a liar.

Almost eight years have passed since losing my Mom. One word to describe that- unfathomable. We were thick as thieves. We were laugh till you pee your pants friends. We were secret keepers, and stay up past dawn talking gals. 

We were not ready for it to be over. 

God has a plan. I’m not privy to it, therefore I have my days that I ask questions. I have my days that I celebrate her being gone as well, because being here was just too painful for her, and as a bestie, I didn’t want that for her.  So, I carried on.

I had promised her I wouldn’t cry while she was sick- but damn all bet’s were off when she was gone. Pulling myself together wasn’t an option, even the tanqueray and tonic wouldn’t help.

I tried. 

We threw her the best  funeral a gal could ask for- beautiful and genuine. Funny stories filled an overflowing church on the day after Christmas. A testimony to how loved she was/is. 

We picked up her ashes on my birthday, later having pizza and more tanqueray… my sister found the birthday gift she bought me in her closet- I have no idea what it was, I wanted nothing to do with that bright colored paper. 

The void is palpable.

She has had so many Great Grand-babies since she’s been gone. She had only met one, and she was over the moon for her little man. I’d like to think that the ones who came after her departure she also held for awhile, and kissed their heads. They all laugh from their toes like she did, they are making her proud. 

I realized today, when for no good reason, I started to cry, that I never let go.  I have no intentions of starting now.

I sure am missing ya Momma Lady.

With love from this side of heaven.

Till next time- Erin

In January I had the idea to start a blog. ( insert tears, frustration, sleeplessness and a touch of excitement.) Finding my passion was top of mind as I worked through another brutal Michigan winter while my soul died from the experience.

I realized I had a million soul filling ideas, than a friend asked a question- “So, is the blog about finding your passion, or is writing your passion?” I had to consider the question for just a minute.

“I’m pretty sure writing is the passion..?” Honestly, this was a revelation.

My piece of pie was rediscovered!

So I have begun to unearth some of my old stories. Some are for children based on my hospital stays for open heart surgeries as a child, others I wrote for my kids when they were young, a novel half way done sits on my shelf, and so on….

Never one to be ahead of the times, I am still struggling to get going with today’s methods, and this blog has been a struggle bigger than I had imagined. Many thanks to all who continue to encourage me daily.

Years ago (decades) I had heard of “self publishing and Electronic books,” I didn’t have a clue what folks were talking about- Now, I’m a Grandma whose trying to get with the times while I dig up this old thing called “PASSION.” I didn’t know when I started months ago that it was going to be writing that pulled me out of the doldrums. I had a million business idea’s and I figured that one of them would steal my focus and I would spend countless hours proving that I could get a business idea launched and allow it to remain going on my mad skills…. nope, it’s writing, it has always been writing and it has been sitting in boxes and on closet shelves for decades waiting for me to remember it.

“I remember you old friend, I remember you!”

So although my writings will still focus on passion and finding it, rediscovering it or creating it out of this moment- it may not be the quest I thought I was going on. I have a lot to discover- about myself mainly and I’m grabbing a fork and digging into this piece of pie with gusto.

Thank you for taking the journey with me. I hope that we find it mutually beneficial.

Till next time- Erin

I’m spending a few minutes of my morning sipping black coffee while I sneak one of my ever famous chocolate chip cookies. (yes, you know the ones.)

I’ve been deep in thought again, sometimes a good thing…sometimes not.

Getting my nerve up to fight with word press again because everywhere I turn there are posts, and quotes, and conversations about finding your passion so I am reaffirmed that I am not the only one out there searching. Right?

I keep going back to a conversation I had with my Mom, probably, shamefully about twenty years ago which would have put me in the thirty something age bracket. Ya know what I wondered about? “What did you want to be when you were growing up?” That my friends is a simple question asked probably about twenty years too late. I was really around thirty years old before I had the thought that my Mother maybe just maybe had a different idea in mind for how her dreams would play out. I mean, of course she had the best five kid’s that God had ever handed someone- so the idea that she didn’t always want to be twenty nine years old with five children hanging on her had never crossed my mind.

Her answer, if I recall, was that she wanted to do something with fashion. Come again??? If you’d met my Mom you would had guessed this answer was about 356 on her list….. but no, she said she wanted to do something with fashion. She also told me how her and a friend had tried to join the Navy once, but she was glad that hadn’t worked out.

My point to this memory is that even the best Mom in the world had other dreams, and it pains me to say I was too busy selfishly enjoying her motherly love to consider this till much too late.

So, do me a favor and drop me a line of either your passion or your Mothers. Let me know which is which…..If you’re blessed to still have your Mother than firstly, I’m jealous as hell and second, if you’ve never talked to your Mom about what her dreams were- invite her for a cup of tea.

Til next time– Erin

I have decided to put a challenge together to jump-start some creative juices in all of us. I have a five-week plan to help us get started. I say it’s time to turn our ideas into a reality and begin to fuel these stored away passions. We will begin taking action on our passion’s with a small monetary investment of one hundred dollars. I have begun saving my change in old water bottles. I will say it’s easier not to spend when the money you are saving is in coin form. (Take this as a tip from a long time saver.) If you think you can’t get started moving your passion in the right direction with just one hundred dollars, then I especially throw down the challenge to you.

Five weeks is our timeline. Any more and we’re gonna be spinning our wheels, and any less it’s possible we won’t be able to come up with the money. One hundred dollars spread out over five weeks. I’ll bet it’s there. Not saying you might not have to pack a brown bag lunch or give up your Starbucks but it’s there. If you can’t find a way to save it- find a way to make it.

Can you dog sit or kid sit? Do you love to bake and could you put together a Facebook post asking folks to buy your cupcakes, cookies or pies? (see how I slipped pie in there) I think there may be a lawn that you could mow or a friend who needs help with chores.. whatever you can think of. Do it!

We are women who have raised kids. We have made budgets stretch further than most can imagine. We have had to be creative with how we spend and save. But here’s our chance to dig deep and do it again. This time it is not for anyone else, or anyone else’s needs and that can be an odd concept for some…myself included- but here we are and it’s time to find and follow our passion.

So what will you do with your hundred dollars? Well, that will depend if you’ve given your dream enough thought. Are you a person who loves photography but never signed up for the class offered online? What if you want to start baking and you have had your eye on some special molds you’ve secretly coveted? Do you need business cards made or fliers to promote yourself?

I started with a crude sketch of my own writing space. I haven’t had my own space for that in over twenty years. I know that having a place that is all mine for just my writing would be inspirational to me. So that is what I want. I have already bought a large picture I love of an old typewriter, and now I am building on that. I want to find an old desk to refinish and maybe even a fuzzy rug that my bare feet can curl around while I am enjoying the clicking of keys.

Let’s not over complicate this idea. Don’t get bogged down. What’s the first thing that pops in your head? Write it in sharpie, pin it on the fridge and start saving. I will be updating how my writing area progresses and I hope that in five weeks you’ve saved your money and are on your way to investing in your piece of pie.

Till next time- Erin