Simple Girl

Letter to My Congressional Delegation

Twenty children were shot multiple times and killed with a semiautomatic assault-style rifle. We may never understand the motive, but the question you must ask yourself as you represent New Hampshire’s children, is how can we prevent this from happening again?
There are nearly 300 million privately owned guns in the United States -- the majority are legally owned, safely used and carefully tended. I support my neighbor’s right to arms – for self-protection, for hunting and for recreation. However, I refuse to believe that we cannot strike a balance between Second Amendment rights and the safety of our children. I urge you to:
1. Stand up to the NRA’s use of fear tactics about gun control, and fight vigorously to reduce gun violence.
2. Quickly and transparently debate Senator Feinstein’s proposed legislation to prospectively ban assault weapons, big clips, drums or strips of more than ten bullets
3. Pledge to enact meaningful legislation in 2013 that will help to reduce gun violence by limiting access to assault weapons, increasing registration and background check requirements.
The problems of violence and mental illness in our society are very complex and no amount of legislation will completely solve the growing crisis of gun violence. But this voter is counting on you to try.
While the media and fringe groups will seek to polarize this issue, please employ common sense and determination to help put an end to gun violence in this country, in New England, and unfathomably, in our elementary schools. Thank you.
Respectively,
Catherine Palmer
Exeter, New Hampshire

Reset Your Expectations and Be Happier

I am a frequent protestor of magazine headlines that offer promises to “Be Happy Now” and list “Top Ten Ways to Be Happier”. The sources of my irritation are many. For starters, the advice begins with the assumption that you are surely miserable and urges you to be your best self, fulfill your destiny, capture joy and otherwise sets the bar ridiculously high. Secondly, the lists are rife with examples that are out of reach for most women -- “I quit my job as a paralegal and started a vineyard!”  Worst of all, that there many of us (including me) willing to spend the $4.95 and passively expect to be granted the headlines’ promises rather than simply taking action.

With that said, I concede that I am living a fortunate life at the moment and my own particular experience may not be duplicable by many. I work for a company that granted me a six-week paid sabbatical and helped me to build the nest egg I needed to pursue my Vermont farmhouse renovation dream. Still, I will be bold enough to suggest that there may be “happy lessons” to be learned from my recent sojourn from the daily grind.

The main goal of my time off was to work on the renovation. Progress  was good but nowhere near my expectations.  And, that’s just the thing: expectations. Whether vacation plans, self image, or life goals, somehow we always fool ourselves into believing that our expectations for the feelings and things we desire are easily met. Well, certainly this is the case for everyone in the magazines ...  so why not us?!  Buy crocodile booties that Patti Hansen wore in More Magazine only to realize that it they aren’t really helping you look or feel as tough and sexy as she. Buyer’s remorse is simply the collision of reality with a set of expectations built from fantasy.  

I learned this the hard way during my sabbatical.  With expectations to completely reboot my priorities and set a foundation for the next chapter of my life in just six week, I planned to get outside every day, learn to play guitar and to knit, begin a regular yoga practice, read my entire Edith Wharton library and the Tao Te Ching, blog daily and search through my journals and scraps of paper for the book I would outline.  Oh, yes and tick off about 20 items on my renovation checklist.  Seriously, this was my list. At the end of four weeks, I was miserable.

So I offer this advice to you, with no presumption that you aren't perfectly happy without it:

Ten Ways to Be Happier (by lowering your expectations)

1. Planning is essential Carpenters have a saying: “measure twice, cut once.” Cutting and nailing and painting are fun! Measuring, budgeting, setting schedules, inventorying materials and measuring again are not. Less fun though is running out of money, managing chaos, and doing the same thing over and over again without satisfying results. Do you see where this is going? Whether it’s building a bathroom or living a secure, peaceful and gratifying life …  you can’t just wing it.
2. Do the work.  Planning is critical, but it can’t last forever. Stop looking at Pinterest, searching for just the right font for your business plan, re-organizing your tools, and making lists. It’s time to do the work. A friend of mine recently told me how her husband fulfilled his dream to be a full-time tennis coach. He took jobs stringing rackets; he got certified to be a line judge; he volunteered to teach tennis at a summer camp. He did everything he could think of that involved tennis. Today, he is the head coach of a successful New England university team. (I’ve been thinking about this example a lot lately with regards to my writing and love of vintage stuff ... stay tuned to learn if I take it to heart!)
3. Protective equipment may be required. At the farm house, we ended up taking unexpected safety precautions after encountering a motherload of mouse shit behind every surface we demolished (see Hanta Virus). I remembered thinking that Genevieve Gorder always worked in bare feet on Trading Spaces. But in real reality, the work is not always going to be glamorous or easy. How many times do we see a “Top Chef” contender nearly slice off a finger or one the designers on “Project Runway” have a massive meltdown. There will be mouse shit. There will be mistakes. And, hardest to take of all, there will be criticism. Posting pictures of progress on my Facebook page has resulted in two near “de-friendings” when comments pointed out mistakes or advised what we “should” do, instead of just clicking on “like”. Whether respirator or thick skin – get one.
4. Any progress is progress ‘Stop beating yourself up’ are words most often pointed at me by those who fail to understand why I feel the need to get. it. all. done. right. now. And now, I point them at you… ha!  And for goodness sake, don’t let the fact that you really won’t be able to do it “all. right. now.” be a reason to do nothing. People ask me if I am having fun picking out things for the new bathroom.  Well, I thought it would be fun. I thought it would take one trip to the “kitchen and bath store” and then … well, and then I came face to face with reality.  Do you know the difference between sub-floor and underlayment? Did you know that you have to carefully choreograph the sequence of framing, flooring, insulating, electrical, plumbing, sheet rocking – and it takes weeks (not 48 hours like on HGTV)!  And, do you have any idea how many different types of toilets there are?!!!  Three months after purchasing the house, I now celebrate the simple accomplishment of getting a reply email from the electrician.
5. Nothing beats the satisfaction of a job well done. Take this bit of advice along with our new definition of progress. While taking a shower in my new bathroom will be the ultimate gratification, there is also nothing like the sound of debris hitting the dumpster.  Kerplunk, thunk, and crash are the sounds of your efforts taking shape. The piney odor of a room covered in new plywood underlayment (which goes over the subfloor!) is the smell of success!  In other words, revel in your progress. Men sit back and drink a cold beer after mowing the lawn. We women are more likely to finish the job and fret that we should have planted a smaller garden that the garage needs painting, and we totally need a pedicure.
6. It takes patience to get the best results. Oh, this is a hard one. Once we’ve made our plan, we want to get to work.  And yet it seems that, to completely misquote Thomas Edison, good results require 90% preparation and 10% perspiration.  Take painting. Picking the color is traumatic enough it’s the cleaning, spackling, sanding, taping, priming, and cutting in that require the greatest investment of time and energy.  The final coat is the easiest of all and the one that delivers the most satisfaction.  Unless, that is, you skipped steps 1-6. In which case, every bump, crack, and drip will taunt you for years.
7. Start on the inside.  This one is so obvious I almost did not include it for fear of condescension. However, when it comes to my Vermont renovation, this has been one of the biggest lessons.  I knew the house was challenged in many ways, but had set my expectations on quickly achieving a cool shabby chic sort of look and living in bohemian-like comfort in no time. Yes, we’d work on the systems, but we could do that quickly or even concurrently with other projects. Reality came in the form of an out-of-control mouse population; an electrical service at the whims of dead tree branches; not one of four chimneys capable of safely supporting a heating systems, and the mysterious decision of a former owner to remove a load bearing wall supporting a great majority of the house.  Desires to create a vintage farmhouse feeling were quickly put in check with the realization that all of the cosmetic work would be meaningless, if I didn’t fix the supporting systems that made the house safe and sound weren’t done first.  I spent three days clearing mildewed insulation from the dark, damp, cobweb covered basement and the majority of my Phase One budget on Fred’s Plumbing and Heating.  No one else will probably ever see it. But it is now my favorite room in the house.  See?  Obvious.
8. Learn to trust.   Did you know that I am not always right? Came as a shock to me too. I’ve also learned that I am not the only person capable of doing (or hiring someone else to do) a job correctly.  Shocking! I hope that a certain someone reads this with a chuckle and knows (without question) that that it isn’t faith that I lack, it is the ability to let go of the rains.   I think women have been taught – through early feminist treatises (“a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle”) or more likely at the school of “I Trusted This Asshole” – that the only person to truly bank on is their self. True only to the extent that we are responsible for the choices we make. Sad, if we can’t let go long enough to benefit from others’ experience, wisdom or kindness.
9. You must compromise.  All those expectations? … the fantasy of owning your own business, writing a book, marrying Prince Harry … probably not going to pan out just the way you envision.  My fantasy tile shower will realize itself as a $500 acrylic unit from Lowes. The six foot vanity now measures in at just 36 inches. The extra 10 sq. feet of space? Gone.  But compromise is not failure (see #4 and stop beating yourself up).  I will have a brand new bathroom in my Vermont farmhouse … and I get to keep my ceramic tile floor and stone top for the vanity.  If in the future, when showing guests this bathroom, I preface each tour with a “well, it’s not what I planned, but…” then shame on me.  You wouldn’t introduce your husband with a “well, I really was holding out from Prince Harry” or your new business venture by saying “it didn’t quite turn out the way I planned” … would you? Compromise is part of life; celebrate that you are able and capable of making the best choices.
10. Simplify I couldn’t not include this advice, especially since it is a choice that has come up at nearly every decision point in the renovation project. It goes something like this: I pull open my Pinterest boards and excitedly present my ideas for the next project. The response is invariably “yes, we can do that.”  Ha! Forget what I said about compromise … I can have it all!!  And then, “it will cost $$$ much and take another two weeks.” (it’s always two weeks) Wait! I don’t have that much money and I want to be done faster. “So”, the response continues …” what is it you really want?”  
    

    Why, to be happy of course?
    
    Be Simple.

Advice From Helen Gurley Brown That Changed My Life

Helen Gurley Brown published Sex and the Single Girl in 1962, the year I was born. I haven’t read it and wonder if in 2012 it would be a juicy retro delight or a tired cliché?  I have, however, like most women, thumbed through my share Cosmo magazines. There is, in fact,  a 2" x 3" remnant of one issue that I especially treasure.

I remember my first glimpses of Cosmo when my mom would bring it home and leave it on coffee table…except for that issue with Bert Reynolds, which she made some attempt to keep out of sight. As a young teenager it was titillating; in retrospect, it occurs that I never thought twice that women could have careers, live in the city, dress fabulously, and actively seek men.  This was the age of Mary Tyler Moore and That Girl after all!

In college, I bought my own issues of Cosmo, mostly for the quizzes, the Bedside Astrologer, and yes, the sex tips and the men (Tom Selleck!  Richard Gere!).  Ms. Brown left Cosmopolitan in 1996, and today with cover stories such as “Wow Him Every Time,” “How to Read His Beach Body”, and “30 Things to Do to a Naked Man” I wonder if it is a continuation or an abomination of her “bad girls go everywhere” philosophy?  Or, if I must face facts, perhaps simply I am no longer “The Cosmo Girl” demographic – that era having passed me by a quarter of a century ago.  

Photo Credit: Santi Visalli/Getty Images (as published in The New York Times, August 13, 2012)

I will never critique HGB’s feminist bona fides because of this taclipping I've carried for at least the past twenty years.  These words became – and still are – a mantra for me: “yourself as the source of your own salvation.” I hope you see how it connects to this simple girl’s approach to life.

I also hope you see that #31 on the list of Things to Do to a Naked Man is to be able to walk as confidently away from him as you do toward him. Herewith, the advice from Helen Gurley Brown's tenure as Cosmo editor:

".... it’s time to take realistic action – trade some of that spending for saving, finally write up your resume, take a hard look at your lover – and recognize that you can be responsible for your own happiness and success. Most important, remain aware that reality will never quit match your fantasies, no matter how down-to-earth they are. “We all have to grow up and recognize that life is a blend of positive and negative experiences, relationships, enterprises, projects,” reminds Sally L. Kitch, director of the Center for Women’s Studies at Wichita State University in Kansas. “Whatever you undertake is going to be part headache, part pleasure.”

“To write fiction,” Virginia Woolf said, “a woman needs money and a room of her own.” This is true on a metaphoric level as well. To be the author of your own adventures, to plot your own life, you need to be financially self-supporting and to have a place that you can call your own. Not a house in the country, not a room in the attic, but simply a safe haven for your sense of self-worth and the belief in yourself as the source of your own salvation.”

Rest in Peace Ms. Brown

Be Simple

p.s. I’ve sent a request to Sally Kitch in an effort to identify the year this article was published. I'll update this piece if I get a reply

 

 

Living the Dream

Just about two years ago, I and shared a draft of my mid-life crisis plan.  That’s right, a plan – a path laid out to prepare for mid-life and the emotional bumpy road of not having had the aforementioned plan in place.  More to the point, the plan has has come to fruition, because I kept to the path and ignored the obstacles.

I closed on the Vermont house / future retirement cottage a week ago. The search took some time and there was a near miss and heartbreak along the way, but alas, just as it always does when you believe it will, and you combine that with action… it came to be! Today I am the sole owner of a very tired and abused, but charming and full of potential 199 year old farm house.  

I wonder what its earliest female residents would make of this? I suspect when the home was newly built, it was done so for a bachelor farmer and his soon to be bride. Their path was very different - mostly obstacles of what could not be, rather than dreams of what could. A 19th century woman might have lived alone in this house only if she were widowed or her husband away at war. Think of it – the Civil War came decades after the foundation stones from my house were first laid  … and just by the looks of it, probably the roof was not long after!  As 21st century women, we might forget it wasn’t until only a few decades ago – the mid-seventies – when Congress amended the Fair Housing Act, that single women could even get a mortgage (or horrors! a credit card!) in their own name.

But here I am, walking from room to room in a house that is all mine. Confident and at the same time completely overwhelmed, listening to the drips from the washer hook up, the bath tub, and the sink – even the toilet was running! – opening windows to air out the acrid smell of wood smoke, dogs, cooking, people, and probably dead rodents between the walls.  I took "before" photos from every corner of every room and made note of the mysteries and histories that were now all mine.

The first few days were filled with the basics: utilities, propane, exterminator, lawn mower, and locksmith.  I had a picnic table delivered from a rosy-cheeked freckle faced boy named Calvin and bought a gas grill (note to self: next time pay the $20 to get it assembled!). We brought out the BFH (big-f’ing hammer) and knocked down a few cabinets just for fun. 

 I spent three solid days painting and cleaning one small corner of the upstairs just to have a “safe room” for us to sleep while the renovation commences. Before (still renter occupied) on the left, and after on the right.  I took an old door off its hinges. Cleaned it and sanded it down to cover the weird metal mirror thing between the windows, added some roman shades, simple white bedding, and painted the crap out evey surface!!

I had the bed delivered, but no, I did not sleep there.  I mentioned the exterminators, right?

So much to do and so much to tell about my Full Vermonty adventures … but for now, my point is just this:    I DID IT!!!!!  

Be Simple

Excuses Excuses

We excuse our sloth under the pretext of difficulty.  ~Marcus Fabius Quintilian

Yah, no I don’t know who Marcus Fabius Quintilian is either, but apparently he came up with this nugget over 1,900 years ago. So you can see his wisdom has stood the test of time – much like the many excuses we’ve all made to avoid getting out of our comfort zones and on with our lives.

How many times over how many years have you used this phrase: "as soon as I?”   From the trite: "as soon as I lose some weight, I'm going to ___<fill in the blank>___", to the tragic: "as soon as I finish this project, I will visit my Dad, spend more time with the kids; plan a date night with my spouse; you get the idea.

There are excuses that allow us to politely say no, to carve out our own space, and push aside truly annoying tasks.  Yes, Marcus, we use excuses because we just don’t want to be bothered. Let’s call this the active excuse. All we suffer by actively employing an excuse is a bit of guilt.  The danger lies in the passive excuse – where the subject of the story (i.e. you!) is not driving the action along, but only submissively affected by it.

These excuses how they served me so well
They've kept me safe
They've kept me stoic
They've kept me locked in my own cell*

Make a list of the five things you “love to do” or have “always wanted to do” but haven’t lately … or ever.  Now ask yourself why. Then ask why again and again. It probably won’t take more than one or two rounds before you realize there isn’t anything in your way but you. 

Now I am not going to go all Nike^® on you here. I understand very well that the fearless ability to “just do it^®” is a rare gift.  I don’t have it.  But excuses bring you to a full stop; safe, but locked in one place.  My dad told me once, “any progress is progress,” and I swear I use that phrase at least once a week and try to practice every day. Allow me to illustrate:

Passive Girl: 
I’ve always wanted to write a book, but I don’t know where to begin and I’m just too exhausted.

Active Girl:
I’m too exhausted to write a whole book, but I am keeping a notebook of thoughts, even just a few words and I’m committed to working on my blog at least once a week.

It’s not a book. Not yet. But it’s progress. Simple efforts. No excuses.

I think one of the reasons we justify not making progress is because we have an all or nothing mindset – a silly conception that all must be perfect or it is not worth the doing. This is why I haven’t practiced my guitar; because after four lessons, I don’t play like Joni Mitchell. If we don’t leap over the high bars we set for ourselves with ease, we lower the bar instead of trying again.

These excuses how they're so familiar
They've kept me small
They've kept me blocked
They've kept me safe inside my shell*

Or perhaps we are afraid.  I know I am. Why set the bar so high if we are too scared to make the leap anyway?  Because we know the excuses that keep us safe, also keep us small.

Bringing this into the light
Shakes their foundation
And it clears my side
Now my imagination
Is the only thing that limits
The bar that is raised to the heights*

Go back to your list with your excuses in full light. Now, use your imagination. It isn’t that difficult and you are not slothful. A small step, a hop, a skip, or a little jump – even one that results in a skinned knee – is progress. And any progress is progress.

Don’t just listen to me, listen to Alanis:

Be Simple

 

*Morissette, Alanis. “Excuses.” So-Called Chaos. WEA, 2004.

Making it Happen

The opening shots have been fired. I await a second counter offer (fingers crossed) from the seller. 

Anxious, nervous, excited, scared, giddy .. feeling all of this and more.

But how would I feel if I were doing nothing? Not pursuing my dream, but just dreaming ....

Timing is Everything

Why is it always so that the things you wish for come to you when the timing couldn’t be worse?  The woman who tried for years to have a baby finalizes an adoption and then learns she is pregnant with twins. You meet the man of your dreams and then (yes, Alanis) his beautiful new wife. You get a huge opportunity to boost your career, but you’d have to be in DesMoines when your son is graduating in Boston.  That’s life – unexpected surprises, disappointments, and tough choices.

Last summer I was faced with an unexpected surprise during a “just for fun” house-hunting trip. Finding houses in my price range is an adventure – equal parts treasure hunt and maze, filled with dead ends (or rather 1970’s era ¼” pine paneling and shag carpet, mold, sagging floors, dangerous electrical and heating systems.  Oh my! But on this day, last August, we found it.  Farmhouse kitchen, screen porch, big barn, rock solid foundation, new windows and 270 degree panoramic mountain views.  It was love at first sight and I made an offer straight away.

The dilemma? It was a year too early, I didn’t have the money or the vacation time, work was insane. It would mean carrying a mortgage plus my rent for another 9-12 months since my boyfriend’s work-in-progress renovation (in which I am to live during the week while I work in New Hampshire), was nowhere near inhabitable yet.   Yet I plowed on, because this was “the one.”  Negotiations were tough – the sellers had a bottom line they would not cross – but the inspection went well. Fifty-six days into a 60-day escrow, and the appraisal fails to meet the lender’s requirements. Meaning, I need to come up with extra cash to close the gap – or finance with different terms that would cost much more over the long term.

The sellers had found a new place, deposits paid, household packed …. And the deal was quashed. I felt like an asshole, but I also felt they should share some of the risk with cash back at closing. They were unwilling to do so and I was able to exercise my “finance contingency” clause.  I cried for 5 minutes; ranted and swore for 10 more; and then got over it.  Sure, I second guessed the call and Gaskell Hill is still something of a benchmark as our searched continued, but ….. honestly?

It felt really good to walk away.  Powerful.  In the past when I’ve had to move or buy a car or other big decisions, I came from a position of weakness.  I had nowhere else to go or nothing else to drive. This time, I was able to exercise a relatively new and hard-won ability to say no.

Friends and family were disappointed for me and spun many a version of “it wasn’t meant to be”, but I don’t know; that was a pretty perfect house. For me, it’s not about fate; it’s about having freedom and control over my destiny. Simply put, I made the timing MY timing.

Be Simple

What are you wearing?

Once again, location proves to be the deal breaker. In New York City the past couple of days and so glad now to be home, at the riverside, listening to the gulls, with only one other person in my proximity (using the word person loosely, as I mean Kitty).

I was, of course, not on a house hunting trip this time, but there for work. I have been very lucky over the past couple of decades, thanks to my employers, to see the world: Dublin, Munich, Tel Aviv, Shanghai, London, and many times the big apple. On each trip, I felt a sense of wonder (pinch me, what is a girl from Maine doing on the Great Wall, floating in the Dead Sea, flying in Business Class?), and I wore a worldly sophistication that served its purpose but never fit quite right.

On this trip, I forgot to pack that sophisticated, city girl costume, perhaps on purpose, and brought only my more comfortable 'country mouse' skin. While, I rocked the pencil skirt ( black of course) and stilhettos, this simplegirl could not revel in the moments. Party on the 61st floor of the Empire State Building? Pretentious and self-congratulatory. Walking down 7th Avenue to meet with customers in their posh midtown office? Excruciating, agoraphobia-inducing. Executive level meetings in high tech board rooms? Uncomfortable; listening to my colleagues and clients talk, I was envious of their passion for what they are doing, and suddenly, keenly aware that I was in the wrong place.

To live in the landscape that you love is one thing (oh Vermont!) but to live in the work that you love is equally, if not more, important. Time to swim against the ambitious and political currents and create a career that need not be worn like a costume, but that is as comfortable as bare skin.

Besimple.

Location. Location. Location.

Last week’s trip to the Northeast Kingdom was, alas, not a right out of an episode of House Hunters.  There were no three finalists – interesting and different properties from which to choose. Instead, I saw six properties – ranging from virgin land to foreclosure to the ultimate renovation – none of which made the cut.

The good news is that the excursion helped to narrow down my list of wants to a list of must-haves and no-f*cking-ways. I think the dreary weather served well to keep me on track – no panoramic Vermont views to entice and distract, just the house, the plot plan, and the facts, ma’am.

We started at what would be a pretty good choice – a very affordable farmhouse on 5 acres just outside of St. Johnsbury; an easy commute due to the fact that the house itself was about 100 feet from the main East-West corridor in northern New England (Route 2). At any given time, I could pump my elbow with clenched fist and be greeted back with a blast of an 18-wheeler.  Like many farmhouses, this one was well-laid out, with an original butler’s pantry and some built-ins. Unfortunately, like many farmhouses, this one had been renovated sometime in the 1970’s with sculptured carpet and ¼” paneling. Renovation possibilities aside, the highway was a deal breaker.

Beautiful landscape, until you turn 90 degrees. Then you see nothing but highway.

The plot of land, with amazing views, was nowhere near the highway and, in fact, had no road frontage at all – just an easement for a driveway.  Oh, yeah, and that chain link fence in the backyard? to keep the pets and kids off the abutting airport runway. Besides, as I walked across the wet field, I realized, I don’t want to build a new house. It would be a nightmare managing construction from 150 miles away (not to mention a former contractor boyfriend to kibitz)  and I confirmed, I don’t’ want a shiny new house.

On the flip side, there can be a fine line between fixer and tear down. In the case of the next property we saw, I think tear down would not have sufficed. Nuclear bomb, maybe?  A banked-owned house that reeked of mold, with septic, electric, plumbing, and structural issues and sat just 10 feet from a four way intersection (one axis of which was a state highway), we talked about moving it back as there were ten acres, but decided it would not survive. That said, the floor plan was perfect.

Sixteen hundred square feet on 10 acres for $47,000 – My realtor took one look and said, “I think it’s overpriced!”

 

There was a lovingly restored large farmhouse with a barn and workshop most men would kill for. But ….right in town, no land, and over-priced. And, one you’d think would earn a nomination if not a Purchase & Sale Agreement, was a beautiful restored farmhouse on two acres with a great (if not tight to the weather) barn. The mud room alone was to.die.for.  Reasonably priced and impeccably decorated in shades of sage and taupe. Unfortunately, it too was near a noisy road, but that wasn’t it. This house was TOO perfect. It could have been any house in any subdivision. The charm had been renovated right out of it.

As it happens, I would rather have this      

 

than this. 

At least to start. The dream is still alive and the house hunt has taught me things.  If onlyI had had this patience with men. Select the best one before marrying him, not marry him and suffer buyer’s remorse.  I will keep hunting (for a house, that is).  Until then …

Besimple.

Entering the Wilderness

I have found it to be difficult to reconcile "corporate me" with "simple girl" me. However, one trip to the Whites or Greens (Mountains, that is) and I am no longer confused.  I'm good at my job and frequently even motivated to excel, but alas ... even though I am not a real mountain girl (yet), the outdoors speaks to me in ways I find peaceful, renewing ... and uh, hard to describe.  I am a better person when I am "up North" and it only takes one short weekend get away to reassure me that my next step is make a permanent change.

Perhaps I am in my "Sandwich Range" - that place between one life phase and the next.

Balancing what must be done with what wants to be done.

 Filling my reserves, storing potential.

Knowing the path, in anticipation of walking it.