10 reasons why life was easier/better/happier in 1900 - in a primitive, homestead minimum sized cabin, with dirt floors:

1) No digital accounts to keep up with - this includes user names, passwords, documents saved, documents lost as websites upgrade and shed past documents.

2) No home office supplies to keep track of, like, where are the scotch tape refill rolls? What about thumb tacks? Pens? Pencils with erasers that still work? Postage stamps? 

3) No email accounts to keep track of, update, remember how to log into, etc.

4) No digital challenges to accept or decline.

5) No television noise. At all. 

6) No idea what is happening anywhere else in the world; this is actually peace bringing. Thing about it ...

7) Very few possessions to keep track of/care for, as there was little space to store anything but necessary items. And usually, no stores and/or no money for buying anything.

8) Quiet was everywhere ... you could hear all the birds around you.

9) Creek nearby to walk down to for water, and to listen to ...

10) Fewer things to remember; only really important stuff - like, who were your family members, where are they now ...

I wish I had a photograph of my family's homestead cabin, when I saw it in 1960. It had completely fallen down, and the moist air, rainfall and tiny organisms of the Ozarks were all hard at work decomposing the structure. My dad could now remember, nor tell from the size or location of the structures, which was the 'house' and which was the 'barn' - both were tiny.

Years later ...

Years go by, and I am still thankful for many of the same things. I still have a job. I can still walk almost as much as I want. I am able to read lots of books, every year, thanks to my public library. Life is good.

Walking, walking

Being able to walk is a glorious thing, and continuing to walk almost every day is also good, good, good. I try to walk twice a day on my work 'break' and am successful most days. When I can do this little thing, I find that I feel better at the end of the day. These are LITTLE walks - ten minutes total. Get out there, and take a little walk!

November 6, 2013 - There is always room for more thankfulness

Even if I haven't written a single line in a very long time, it does not mean I have not been thankful. Let me think of some things, big and small, that are worth writing about.

Travels, trips, people and places
I am grateful for my job. It allows me to do a little domestic traveling. This year I have been to Santa Fe. We walked everywhere, viewed beautiful art work, ate some delightful lunches, and built a fire every night in the fireplace. I am so thankful to have these opportunities.

I was also able to travel to Seattle this past summer, and see family. My brother and I had a long and completely unrealistic list of things to do and see. We both knew this to be unrealistic, but loved making the list. And we did a few of the things on the list, too.

Years and years go by, and I am still thankful that I have a job, and that I am still able to work. 

Having a job

I am thankful that I have a job. A decent job. Most of the people I work with are great, and I am happy to see them. I am paid enough to make it worthwhile, and to allow me to do a few extra things, like take a vacation - though I am not a world traveler. When I get up in the morning, I know where I will be going that day, and mostly what I will be doing. Having a job, in this current economy, where every single day, I see/talk to people who are working on their resumes and applying online for very low level jobs ... I am thankful for the job that I have.

Spring, sunlight and daylight savings

In two weeks, daylight savings time begins. More daylight! And at the end of that same week, the first day of spring is noted on the calendar. Of course, that will mean another six weeks of snow here in Colorado, but at least the days are getting longer.

Sunlight!! I am thankful to see more of it each day. Maybe my dead, brown yard will be green again. It seems impossible at this time of year. Twenty shades of brown, and bare dirt, too. Bare branches on all the trees. The calendar tells me spring is coming. The sunlight tells me not to give up hope - all will live again.

Hurry, spring!