Survivors' Day!

I just returned from a survivors’ day celebration in Scottsbluff, Nebraska with over 600 survivors and caregivers that met for a day of fun and relaxation.

The theme was “Baskets Full of Care” and they certainly didn’t lack baskets!

More amazing than the event, was the journey to get there. I flew into Denver and then took a puddle jumper to Scottsbluff.

The pilots didn’t look more than 12 years of age, and when I can see right into the cockpit from my seat, I start to get a little antsy (panicky is a better word!). But as it turns out, we never made it off the ground—due to technical difficulties—so we were taken off the plane and waited three hours for a mechanic to check things out.

Do you think I wanted to get back on that “mosquito” with wings? I almost called the meeting planner and said, “Thanks, but no thanks; I’m going back home!” But then I remembered our motto from the National Speakers Association, “A true professional speaks even when then don’t feel like it!” I then imagined all the cancer survivors and caregivers who looked forward to this event and put my emotions in their place and boarded the plane again!

Good news; we took off and landed safely.

I’m always amazed—shocked really—at the beauty of America. The last time I was in Nebraska was 20 years ago when we made the trek by car on our move to Pennsylvania. But somehow I missed one of the most spectacular sites: “The Monument.” God’s beauty is everywhere and sometimes in the most unlikely of places.

Thank you Regional West Medical Center for an amazing day and welcoming me into your great city.

Dream Your Dream!

If you haven't seen this, then you are in for a surprise.

Susan Boyle is making the world stand up and "sing." The first time I watched her on YouTube, I immediately burst into tears and then got goosebumps throughout her performance.

Thank you, Susan, for allowing us all to dream, to believe, to hope, and "yes" forget for just a moment that we ever doubted ourselves.

Live your passion, Susan. You are simply amazing! You've won our hearts and for sure you will win the competition. No doubt about it. God bless you.

Hope Arrives!

Love is a Verb by Gary Chapman arrived on my doorstep this morning via Fed Ex (sorry, honey it wasn’t UPS). My hubby is a manger at UPS so he doesn’t like me to mention the competition by name, but there you have it!


I’ve kept this book under wraps because in publishing you just never know. For those who aren’t familiar with the process, let me tell you how it works (sort of!): You send in a story via an open call for stories or if you’re fortunate, the editor comes to you personally and asks you to write for a certain volume.

Then comes the wait. If you’re a savvy writer, you will keep a hard copy of the story and file it away with the date and note it on your Excel spreadsheet of projects (date submitted).

More waiting.

Pay attention to periodic e-mails, but do NOT bug the editor. There is one exception: If you double submitted something and you heard from the other publisher first. That is an entirely different post, which I won’t get into right now (but let’s just say that it can get you into some “hot” water and you better have your ducks lined up when you perform that daring feat). I for one, will never double submit (ever!).

Then one day—when you’re least expecting it—there will arrive an e-mail from the editor that your story has been selected as a semi-finalist. You shout, “Yippee.” But it’s a small “yippee” because that’s no guarantee of anything (for certain).

More months pass by and you get another e-mail, stating you’re a FINALIST! You do the happy dance, sign the contract (read it first!), and then fax or mail it to the editor (or publisher). Following the directions carefully.

Signing the contract still does not guarantee that you’re in the book. It just means it passed by the editor, the managing editor, and now goes to the publisher.

But don’t get too excited yet. Now you really have to wait. This is the last communication you will receive. Yes, there’s a very good chance you will be in the book, but it’s now up to the publisher (they have the final say-so); and in this case it was Bethany House.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

If you’re a “smart” writer, you have made notations on your Excel spreadsheet of dates along the way and you’ve kept writing and submitting.

Sometimes the publisher has posted a “Search In” option to the book on Amazon.com, so you can start searching for your name before the due date (in this case it was May 1, 2009). But not all publishers use this method.

You wait patiently and keep writing.

And then one day, the doorbell rings, it’s the Fed Ex truck. He speeds away as you look down at the steps and see a brown box. What’s this? I didn’t order anything from Fed Ex? And then you see the publisher’s name and let out a “yelp.”

I carried the box inside (heavy because they are hardbound books), and tried to rip it open with my bare hands (ignoring the tab that would have easily released the contents). No, I had to break two fingernails, get a paper cut, and jabbed myself with scissors before the books tumbled out.

Two hardbound author copies with a beautifully designed dustcover.

Two copies.

I only expected one (after all I only had one story). How nice…one to keep and one to give away.

At that point, you are "hopeful" that you're in the book. Certain is a good word, but not for sure until you scour the table of contents for your name.

You’re feeling a little better…you actually see your name!

You turn to page 210 and then it’s for certain. You read your story and Dr. Chapman’s commentary on what you wrote. You check the bio and see your name again.

Afterwards you get out the file and write the date you received the book and file it away under “finished projects”).

You do the happy dance one more time.

Oh yeah, the check. That comes out later, sometimes 4-6 weeks later depending on the publisher. You do the happy dance with that one too (it’s a double celebration). Actually, it’s many dance steps along the way, some are slow dances, some are jigs, and sometimes it's a waltz. It all depends on the project.

But today I did the happy jig twice. My check arrived in the mail (the same day that the books arrived). That has never happened before—ever!

Jon came back home to give me the stub to pick up his tux for a wedding he's, so I autographed the book to him as an early graduation gift.

Sigh.

Do I always make the list?

No.

One year, I was always a bridesmaid and never a bride. I made it to the semi-finalist list and never made it to the finalist. Never get discouraged. I turned around and submitted them to another publisher and they accepted all THREE!

Why do I write about the writer’s life on a Monday morning? Because for some reason, I always receive my author copies on a Monday. Today I started humming the song, “Monday morning…” and said a prayer, “Thank you, Lord, for another opportunity to share with others your message through my writing.”

That is the true gift…sharing with others what gems and pearls I’ve gleaned along this journey called life.

It gives me hope for tomorrow!

Living Life Passionately,





P.S. Leave a comment and Love is a Verb can be yours!

Buona Pasqua

I’m off to my favorite Italian bakery in town, “La Dolce Vita.” They carry all my must-have items to make Easter dinner festive, including: the “Colombo” (baked bread in the shape of a dove); biscotti di mandorle (almond paste cookies with pine nuts), and chocolate eggs filled with a “sorpreza” (surprise)—a small toy.

Having just returned from the country, so aptly named “La Dolce Vita,” the images are still fresh in my mind. And with the recent earthquakes in the town of Aquila, my heart aches for the people and the country that is so full of pain right now.

Having lived through my share of earthquakes in Sicily, I can still picture the beds moving across the speckled marble floor, the "palazzo" swaying back and forth, and the screaming and shouting as many jumped from their balconies and windows to escape being crushed from the collapse of buildings. We endured one of Italy’s worst earthquakes in 1981, but we were spared harm.

All these years later, I look back and realize there was a purpose for us surviving…we have two beautiful sons with which to share the blessing of Easter. This Easter we will pray for the country we hold so dear and unite around the table to give thanks to God for giving us this one life to live for Him!

Buona Pasqua Tutti!

I'm Back!

I woke up this morning at 5:30 a.m. (a rare thing!), and peeked up at the ceiling and watched as the fan whirled its white blades?

Where am I? I thought.

I had no clue where I was or what bed I was lying in. And then it came to me…

I’m back!

At home, that is. And I must say it has been a glorious ten days where I spent some time in “heaven” away from e-mail, phones, and “yes” the Internet (for the most part). I was totally disconnected (almost), and it was glorious.

The trip was a gift and the particulars are being kept “secret” for now, but each day I will post a picture of my travels. You may leave comments on where you think the picture was taken. Whoever is the closest in its proximity (I don’t mean country…I mean city), will receive a copy of The Ultimate Mom by Chicken Soup.

So go ahead and give it your best try.

Each day this week, I will post a different picture. Sorry, no hints!

Living Life Passionately,

The Third Time is the Charm!

Today and yesterday, I’ve been collecting books in the mail, and I have yet to read a single page.

The Ultimate Mom by Chicken Soup arrived first with its glossy color photos (of course, I couldn't help but look at the pictures first!). Since I had three stories in that volume, I received three books (not a bad deal).

My hubby took one to work because one is titled, “La Famiglia Pombo,” and one goes to my mom, and the other one went to the editor of the Lancaster News who will be doing a write up for an upcoming book signing.

If you live near Lancaster, feel free to join us for a combined author signing with the other Cup of Comfort Authors: Carolyn Ruch of Hatfield, PA; Susan Kelly Skitt of Chalfont, PA; and Carol Cool from Ephrata, PA. The date is Saturday, May 9 from 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. Just in time for Mother’s Day and for those last minute shoppers. A signed author copy always makes a nice gift!

I will be missing in action for the next two weeks due to a delightful and unexpected trip overseas. But I shall return on March 31—just in time for April Fool’s Day (no kidding!).

And then for sure, I will be offering three book giveaways: A Cup of Comfort for Mothers and Daughters; A Cup of Comfort Women of the Bible, and The Ultimate Mom by Chicken Soup.

If you leave a comment telling me why you desperately need these books, my hubby will read the comments and pick a winner.

Until next month…

Reading Your Daughter

My dad is a voracious reader. He carries several pens and a yellow highlighter in his pocket protector—always—so he can record his thoughts and underline key words. A quick perusal of his bookshelf will give you a glimpse into his interests: political, religious, and medical. He shares his vast knowledge on almost any subject with careful cross-referencing—handing me a book outlining the details of his argument.

I love it.

On this last trip, Dad gave me several books to read, one was titled, Taking Care of your Elderly Parents. My mom is shipping that one (I didn’t finish it!). But the one I adore is titled, Stein on Writing, with an inscription, “To Connie, with love, Dad!”

Ahh…

Dad didn’t know it at the time, but that’s the best gift he has ever given me (except for the letter he wrote to me shortly after I was married). It was a gift from the heart because Dad’s books are like his children—he doesn’t part with them (even if I ask politely!). This, however, was even more poignant because he gave it freely—he picked it out for me.

The book, by the way, is the best I have ever read on the subject of writing (fiction or nonfiction). It’s a writer’s conference in a book. In fact, if you don’t have this reference book in your library you are missing a vital link to the craft of writing. As a master editor of some of the most successful writers of our century, Stein liberally shares techniques and strategies. Normally, when I read a book filled with such valuable information, I follow my dad’s example and underline, write notes in the margin, highlight with a pink marker, and tab the pages. I resisted. Instead I savored each page and took notes on the back of my ticket voucher (which is now carefully filed away).

Why?

This is a gift from the heart—to be cherished. As I flipped through the pages, I imagined my dad reading in his chair with his black-rimmed glasses and yellow highlighter in hand. Tears flowed. Several times during the trip, my hubby asked me if I was okay. I dabbed my eyes and said, “I’m fine.”

I was not.

From California to Denver and from Denver to Baltimore, I cried—no sobbed. It’s not unusual—I do it every time. I wore my dark sunglasses (the ones with palm trees and flamingos), and re-lived the still precious moments: Dad fixing waffles for breakfast; working in his vegetable garden; taking Brandy—his beloved German short hair—on a walk EVERY morning; working in the garage—sculpting works of art from wood; picking up more books at garage sales, and sharing his opinion on political views.

I always wondered why I loved to read and now I know why.

Thanks, Dad, from your daughter with love!

Rocky Mountain High

We arrived home at 3:00 a.m. and woke up at 11:00 a.m. to a cat who is not “speaking” to us. I’ll give her some space and hopefully she’ll snap out of it.

Yesterday flying over the Rocky Mountains was a highlight for me (which is why we go through Denver on the way to California). If you hit it just right, the layers of pastels at sunset are a blur of lavender, orange, yellow, and violet with a smoky haze that takes your breath away. However, we did not see that view this time, but it was still spectacular.

This morning, I’m still on a “high” because my passport arrived (a miracle!). Sometime I hope to share the rest of the story on that one (smile!)...

Although spring has arrived in all its glory in California, we arrived home to shades of gray in Lancaster County. But this morning (okay, this afternoon—to be precise!), I peeked out the window and saw a fleck of yellow. Spring has delivered its first package—a yellow crocus. The daffodils and tulips will follow (hopefully!).

I’ll leave you with some memories of our time in California with family…










Blessings!

Wearing your Wrinkles

I sat in the hot tub at LA Fitness (pool therapy for my arm), and the woman next to me blurted out, “Oh, I see you had thyroid surgery—how are you feeling?”

I thought, What is she talking about?

As soon as the words formed in my head—the woman pointed to my neck.

“Oh and I can tell you also had a cervical laminectomy, as well. I had one several years ago. See..." she said, pointing to her neck.

What the woman didn’t know—what she possibly couldn’t understand—was I became a victim of “wrinkle mania.”

I bought this "terrific" wrinkle cream, schlepped it on, fell asleep before I had time to rub it in—as the label had suggested—and woke up with two large streaks across my neck.

The problem with wrinkles; they form little crevices. While I was sleeping, the little crevices grew into deep craters. The wrinkle cream ate through my skin, forming two huge red lines across my neck—resembling surgical scars.

Okay, I’m going to make a confession here. If you lose too much weight, wrinkles appear in places you never had—like around the eyes and neck.

I don’t like the “skinny” me; I like the “plump” me better!

This all started about a year ago when my family physician said to me, “So, what do you want to do about your weight problem?”

“What weight problem?” I countered. My weight at the time was within normal limits for my height, but according to her—I was overweight. So I started myself on a very gradual weight loss program by eating less and exercising more.

The pounds slipped off.

Now, I’m sagging around the face with "thyroidectomy" and "cervical laminectomy" scars (can you tell I used to work in the medical field?).

I finally confessed to the over-inquisitive woman that I had neither surgery, but I was suffering from post-weight loss wrinkles complicated by "wrinkle-cream dermatitis."

She howled.

I did not!

My neck itches like crazy and I absolutely refuse to wear a turtleneck in the pool. I thought about wearing a scarf around my neck, but that looked ridiculous as well. And a towel—that was worse!

But today, I feel relieved that I can’t go to the gym because we had a Nor’easter overnight that dumped six inches (plus) of snow, and I can’t even see my car—much less drive anywhere.

The moral of the story: wear your wrinkles (and be thankful you lived long enough to see them!).





P.S. I think I'll just sit on the back porch and enjoy the snow!

Living with Technology

Twice this week I have fallen asleep with my laptop on my chest (it happens when you “read” in bed). That’s okay, but it's not so great for those stellar thoughts you were writing that disappeared once your laptop went into "hibernation" mode and you didn’t save it!

Then I posted an interview on Momlogic this week with Sherry Taylor Cummins author of Pink Ribbon Devotions to Go—it’s part of the Ning Social Network. Somehow in cyberspace they confused my “login” with someone else, so now I can’t log back in to answer questions about the interview. I’m locked out of my own “network.”

That came on the day after I waited in line for a passport (another post entirely). It seems I let my passport expire and I need it quickly. But the Passport Office has a set of rules based on “need.” You have to fall into a specific time frame for “hurry up; I need this now.” That means either you need to leave the country in 24-72 hours or you need to leave in exactly two weeks. If you don’t fall into those two “need” categories then you really don’t have a problem. But what if you need to leave in three weeks?

Talking to the folks in the Passport Office is like talking a foreign language. I asked, “What if you don’t get my ‘stuff’ and process it before I need to leave in three weeks?” Her response, “Well, you’ll need to get your pictures taken again!”

I laid my head down on my desk and thought, Lady, we have a failure to communicate.

This week made me realize how dependent we are on technology: computers, social networks, e-mail, Inbox and Outbox. Oh, did I mention: I also destroyed the settings in my Outlook, so my Inbox looks “empty” except I have 1,250 e-mails in it. Now I have to delete everything first in order to separate my e-mail.

I will be traveling for the next two months and my dear friend recently asked me, “Are you bringing your laptop with you?”

Not if I can help it! I think I need a break from technology and wait for my "settings" to be restored and for my identity to be recognized so I can become a "real" person again!

Until next time…

The Color Red

This is the month of sweetheart roses and valentines, but it’s also the month of red.

There are red dresses to symbolize American Heart Health (Go Red for Women!); there are the red heart stamps that I just found this morning stuck in an envelope (I knew I would find them!) before USPS increased postage again in May, and just this morning, I peeked outside to find a red cardinal on my neighbor’s flower ornament. I checked twice to make sure it was real.

Yep, it was real!

I dashed upstairs, got my camera, and gingerly opened the sliding door to the back porch. I prayed that it would stay still long enough for me to take just ONE picture. I held my breath, pointed, and clicked.

So what’s the big deal about a cardinal in the snow?

I have been chasing cardinals for as long as I can remember and it’s as if they knew it was on my passionate to-do list.

“Can’t catch me!” I could hear them squawk back.

But today the cardinal cooperated. And what a better day: fluffy snow and a red tree as a backdrop. Now I can scratch that one off my passionate to-do list.

It sure does the heart good to know that I don’t have to slip, slide, and chase down red birds in the snow.

I love the color red—don’t you?

A Day to Remember

While sitting in Border’s Bookstore I desperately tried to finish writing my Valentine’s cards and make sure they made it in the evening mail. As I wrote my last card, an elderly gentleman interrupted my thoughts. He went from table to table pulling out a tattered photo from his pocket. “This is my sweetheart,” he said with tears forming in his eyes. He went on to explain, “We had our last dinner together at the Palms in Willow Valley—it was our thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

I listened intently as he placed the photo next to my green tea latte. “I lost my wife to cancer six months ago,” he blurted out. “I miss her more than you can imagine.”

Several customers who were annoyed that their respite at Borders had been interrupted, moved away to other tables or wandered to the back of the store. I took the photo, cupped it in my hands, and commented on how lovely his wife looked in her violet-colored dress with a corsage of pink roses.

His face lit up.

He went on to explain how they met, fell in love, and had three beautiful children. I laid my pen down and listened to more of their love story. “This is my first Valentine’s Day without my sweetheart,” he finally admitted. He glanced down at my stack of Valentine’s cards and added, “I don’t want to take any more of your time… thank you for listening.”

He shuffled back to his seat, buttered his plain bagel, and sipped black coffee with the photo of his wife propped up against a stack of books he had gathered to read. There she remained the entire time, until he finished, picked up his things, and gently placed the photo of his dear wife back in his wallet.

Tears dropped—one by one—onto my Valentine’s cards as I watched the ink smear on my stack of pink and white envelopes. I grabbed a scratchy brown paper napkin and blotted my eyes before fixing the spills.

Time—he just wanted more time with his beloved. Everyone in Borders was so absorbed in their books, magazines, and bagels they couldn’t give a grieving widower a moment of their time. I have to admit that I was tempted to turn away because I was on a tight schedule, but I felt compelled to listen. I saw in this elderly gentleman’s eyes a hurt that ached for his dear wife. He just needed a listening ear.

Images of his wife—and their once happy life—were gone! This Valentine’s Day will be his first without his sweetheart and a test of his faith. I’m thankful I listened and wished I could have done more, but maybe that’s all he needed—a listening ear.

Valentine’s Day is a time to remember those we love and an opportunity to share just how much they mean to us—not just one day a year—but every day of our lives.

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!

Skating on Thin Ice!

Today is a record 44 degrees and balmy. I loaded up the car and headed to my other office, “ The Panera,” when I noticed my running shoes laying in the backseat of the car—all laced up ready to go. They only thing they were missing were my two feet. I ripped off my scarf, took off my gloves and coat, and shouted, “Yippee, no more ice!”

You know the saying, “pride cometh before a fall.” I laced up my running shoes and started jogging down the driveway. I got about 25 feet from the car and there it was—a patch of black ice—desperately trying to melt. I don’t remember much after that, but I literally skated on thin ice with my arms flailing in every direction. I heard a pop in my left shoulder (the one with a newly torn rotator cuff), and then came the “zinger”—it’s like an electric shock that doesn’t go away. Good thing I already have a scheduled appointment with the orthopedist on Friday.

I dragged my body back to the car and started out again and thought to myself, The statistics are right…most accidents occur within a five-mile radius from the home. Yes, I guess that applies to skating accidents. It’s ironic that I cancelled a speaking engagement in West Virginia because of black ice and ended up almost “breaking my neck” twenty-five feet from our house.

I called my mom in California and she reminded me that things aren’t that “rosy” in California: there’s fog, rain, and occasional frost.”

“Yes, Mom, I remember…”

But the one thing they don’t have is ice—baby—ice!

Will I miss the ice storms on the East Coast?

Absolutely not!

No more skating on thin ice for this “girl.”

The Proper "Weigh" Revisted

Two years ago, I posted this blog on Boomer Babes and can you believe it...the ten pounds finally came off? So now I don't have to go to such great "lengths" to make myself believe that I actually weigh less than I actually "was" (are you confused yet?). Read on...

If you don't want to do it the hard way (eat less and exercise more), just get yourself a Kymaro body shaper (they work...you automatically look 10-20 pounds thinner). Although once you're in, you're not getting out (trust me!). You will be permanently "iglooed" into that thing. I almost called 911 to help me wiggle out until my hubby arrived on the scene and rescued me (not once, but twice!). I must say the proper "weigh" is so much easier!

Here's a stroll down memory lane...

“I can’t believe I was doing it wrong all these years. We MUST get the word out!”

My precious mom sent me this e-mail last week; I fell off my chair laughing! Only because I am THAT woman! For years, I have been tricking myself into believing that I’m the proper weight. And—now—I want to share with you a little “secret”!

First of all, I do weigh myself (regularly!), once a month in Towson, MD (are you listening, Dotsie?). I go to the GNC store (lower level of the Towson Mall), tastefully peel off all the layers of clothing (to what is legally allowed!), put 50 cents into that silly weight machine, and enter my height: 5 feet 11 inches!

“Fibber.”

Truth be told, I’m exactly 5 feet 3-3/4 inches. Here’s my “secret”: If you put in a “taller” height, you get a reading like this: “You are 35 pounds underweight for your height. Here are some tips to help you gain weight.” (Oh, such glorious words!)

I dance out of the store, waving my tiny receipt in the air, and shout, “Yeah, I need to gain weight!” Shoppers scoot out of my way as I gallop upstairs to Starbucks and order my double mocha cappuccino.

Deception?

Yes. I’m really 10 pounds overweight. The same 10 pounds I gain and lose in five-year cycles. And the same—seemingly endless—vanity pounds that keep disappearing and reappearing. So what’s the point?

This is January (right?) . . . and next month is February (I think!). So between now and chocolate season (my heart’s desire), I need to lose 10 pounds (only because I have my cholesterol checked on February 14—heart day!). If that’s not an incentive, I don’t know what is?

Here’s the serious part (you knew I’d get to it!): I’m a survivor (as in cancer). So why should I care about my cholesterol, my weight, and taking care of myself? Because now I have so much more to live for. I got a taste of life ten years ago—while facing my own mortality (if that isn’t an oxymoron?)—and I LOVE LIFE! I think that’s the proper “weigh” to live.

LIVE WELL.

LOVE MUCH.

LAUGH OFTEN.

And pleeeeease throw out the BATHROOM scales!

“A merry heart does good, like medicine . . . ” (The Bible!).

Living Life Passionately and a "little" Lighter,

Simplicity!

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I have re-evaluated my life and I am simplifying! I took a hard look at all I'm doing between now and when we move to California and realized, there's not enough "me" to go around.

I've cleared my calendar of all unnecessary stuff (that was hard!) and here's what I came up with for the next six months:

1. Make "me" a priority. I will go to the gym faithfully (every morning--no excuses!). Four more pounds to reach my goal weight (the home stretch is in sight). No peeking at e-mail until I return from the gym (period!).
2. Preparations for our move to California which also includes cleaning, packing, sorting and throwing away the non-essentials (one drawer, one closet, one file cabinet at a time).
3. Blog only twice a week and disable comments for the next three months (a temporary meaure).
4. Speaking engagements, no more than twice a month until moving preparations are complete.
5. Writing days (two full days per week), until the book "Moms of Sons" is done. Publisher due date: September 2009.
6. Spa days (once a month). I have a certificate from October 2008 that I haven't even used yet (and the last time I checked, we're in 2009).
7. Freelance work (two articles per week--no more!).
8. Date night reinstituted (once a week) or more as needed.
9. E-book on mentoring (to be completed by August 2009).
10. Try to figure out what to do with our cat Bianca. Do we bring her with us to California or do we find a loving home for her in Pennsylvania?

Newsflash: I changed my blog address to http://www.livinglifepassionately.com/ because I thought it was more simple than http://www.livinglifepasionately.blogstpot.com/. That's progress, don't you think? And I changed the color back to white (pure simplicity). It helps me to think in clean lines.

Wow, I feel like a new person. This week the mold remediation people are coming to clean our basement and maybe I won't have to wear my "gas" mask when I venture into the basement. I just happen to be in the 15 percent of people who are allergic to mold.

Here's to living simply again!