Celebration and appreciation (found poem from the comments)

I so wish I could sit with you on a floor in a circle and sing together like I did with my course mates at the end of a learning module. The closure matters. And I don't know how to finish this writing challenge. In some ways we have been like boats at night, everyone on their own course, passing each other, the lights and horns telling us that we are not alone. At the same time, when I read the slices or the comments to my slices, I feel as if we are in the same room, drinking tea, telling stories, allowing our emotions surface, holding each other's vulnerability, being true to our core. 

I have deep appreciation for everyone who found the time to visit my blog and leave kind words. The writing becomes alive when a reader reacts and the writer's heart needs the responses in order to thrive. 

I wish give a personal thank you to Natasha. Her comment on "Ten top three lists" touched me to tears. I wish I could have hugged her. My critic sometimes tries to convince me that it doesn't matter whether I write or not. Natasha's comment reminded me that I don't always know how my words might impact others and if even one reader finds a nugget in them then I have increased the goodness in the world. 

A celebration often includes cake (at least in my world). I have picked some lines from comments and created a short found poem to offer, this is the cake we'd eat if we were together. 

Lately, when I just speak 

or share with honesty, 

everything falls into place.

How else can you really decide 

what you think? 

Life is too short to hold back.

Big fancy words not needed, 

simple and heartfelt ones will do.

Alternative arrangements of familiar letters 

can yield thousands of different languages.

There's so much goodness here.

When everything aligns 

for a perfect day, 

it is magic.

Who we are today 

is not the same person 

we were yesterday.

The best moment is the present.

The end of the challenge is bittersweet. What makes it a bit easier is the knowledge that it doesn't have to be the final time we meet. Let's keep writing. See you on Tuesday!

reflection

I am sitting on my living room sofa. I have written and deleted this sentence several times, doubting that it makes the right start for my reflection slice. I give up. This will remain the opening sentence. I have posted most of my slices from this location before nine o'clock in the morning. A few slices I posted from a teacher's lounge in the school where I provide instructional coaching. Most of the slices have been written on this super comfy slightly out of shape sofa too. Some I drafted on the laptop in the same place the evening before, some I drafted in a journal in bed before going to sleep or sent them as an email to myself, some were born on the spot. 

Last night I didn't draft, knowing I'd have the slow Saturday morning when the rest of the family sleeps. The day started a little later than planned, I followed my morning routine of gentle stretching and mindfulness, brewed a cup of tea, and then to my surprise my husband woke up. I couldn't write. Instead we had breakfast together, breakfast consisting of savoury puff pastry rolls and no-bake biscuit cake, both leftovers from yesterday's birthday party. And then we watched a new to us British Crime series "Grace" season one episode 2. It's almost noon soon.

It was a good day yesterday, my husband and three daughters were at home, my mom and dad, sis and nephew visited, and also my cousin, her partner and her niece (my other cousin's daughter). Like always we had lots of food, lots of talking and laughing, dad taking a nap, and the day ended with playing Dixit and Touche. I received chocolate, books and bookstore gift cards as a gift. Though in many ways the day was similar to many other family gatherings, I know it was still one of a kind. It reminded of Oliver Burkeman's quote I had recently sent to myself.

"Sure, you can have a hundred tea ceremonies. You can never have them all with the same people. But you can only have that ceremony, that cup of tea, once. "

The SOLSC too was similar to many others, some slices similar to the ones I had written before during different years (mornings, family, work, learning, tea, cookies, book spine poem, Leigh Anne's party, right now). Yet the whole challenge was different in one fundamental way. If in the past the writing had been in some way my saviour and therapy in the midst of crazy stressful month, then this year, even though the month had its busy moments I myself was more relaxed and the slices came easier. I was kinder to myself too, worrying less about the quality, not overthinking, letting the words arrive as they did.

I am so happy that I wrote this year too. I know the slices don't tell a whole life story, yet they tell enough, and looking back they aide the memory, show the changes, and grow appreciation for the beautiful people and experiences in my life. 

Looking forward to writing one more slice tomorrow.

in the right place at the right time with the right people

 "So now that you look at the picture you picked, what does it tell you about yourself in relation to today's workshop?" the workshop leader asks us.

I look at the photo of the kitten on it's back. I had struggled with picking the card at the start of the day when the task was to find a picture that show why I came to the workshop. I wasn't entirely sure of the motives. Partially I came because my friend was running it. Partially because I wanted to know more about how to help coaching clients with Impostor Syndrome. And if I am honest, then partially because  I could go to a workshop on Thursday without having to ask permission, leaving sub plans and feeling guilty for missing school.  I decided to trust my gut and pick a photo that caught my attention first. The cat could well symbolise the curiosity that I had.

The workshop had been at the right place at the right time with the right people. We were in the same beautiful location as two weeks ago for my coaching/supervision course. The workshop leader and one of the participants were my course mates, the other three from the same coaching school's different cohorts. Altogether the six of us allowed for the intimacy and trust to be stronger and the sharing to be deeper and more personal than it usually is at the bigger workshops. The Thursday workshop nesting between my birthday on Wednesday and my birthday celebration on Big Friday made it feel like a gift to myself. 

The workshop had flowed at a just right pace alternating between theory, stories, practical work and breaks. Throughout the day we kept reflecting on our own experiences and behaviour and thought patterns, the ways we might sabotage ourselves, and the ways we can change it. I was glad to see that I am in a good place at my life, where I don't doubt too much about my expertise and don't worry too much that people might discover that I am  not as good as they think, though moments like these sometimes show up in some situations.

So what does the kitten picture tell me?

I sometimes struggle when people give me compliments or show how valuable my work is to them. Maybe I should bask a bit in the praise and appreciation without internally denying or worrying they might change their mind.

"The kitten here tells that I should let people pat me and scratch my tummy and enjoy it," I share with the group. 

Welcome new day

Hello, Thursday!

How wonderful to see you. You greeted me with light blue sky and sunshine. Thank you! Starting a morning with a smile opens the heart to all the good ahead. 

You are a yellow spring day. I think so because I look at the tulips and daffodils I received for my birthday yesterday. I also perceive you as warm-hearted. I think so because yesterday was the first day when I switched for a lighter coat and plan to do so also today. You are curious. I think so because I am looking forward to a workshop about Impostor syndrome that my friend will run. I believe I am right, because my gut and heart back up what my head thinks. 

I am glad that we don't hurry even thought we keep an eye on the clock not to miss the morning train. We have abundance of fifteen minutes to drink the Jade Snow green tea, eat a piece of hazelnut cream cake and write a quick slice.   

Ahh, reading on a train, seeing my friend, learning at a workshop, I appreciate the anticipation you have brought with you.

Let's go!

ten top three lists

I am a huge fan of lists. Making lists of lists is extra exciting. When I saw the ten top three lists, I felt kiddy as a child. I dropped my original idea (getting a year older) and decided to draft the lists yesterday evening. I thought it would be a quick write. I didn't know it would actually be a challenge. First deciding what lists to make and then limiting things to three and putting those in order.  I ended up writing a bit beyond my bedtime. It would have made sense to stop and continue the next day, but I couldn't. When I finished I was ready to laugh. I am so predictable. 

Inspired by: 

https://writertammye.wordpress.com/2024/03/26/top-three-lists-solc24-day26/

https://thedirigibleplum.com/2024/03/26/10-top-three-lists-26-31-sol24/

http://wowilkinson.weebly.com/blog/ten-top-three-lists

 

 

10 top three lists:

 

Ways to spend a Friday evening:

• reading at home
• watching a performance in a theatre
• attending a tea ceremony

Places:

• teashops
• bookstores
• art galleries

Breakfast:

• pancakes
• fried eggs and bacon
• oatmeal porridge with raspberries

Dances:

• slow waltz
• cha-cha-cha
• slow foxtrot

British crime series:

• Miss Marple
• Midsomer murders
• Shetland

Spring Flowers:

• snowdrops
• blue anemones
• tulips

Tea:

• peppermint
• loose leaf green tea
• milky oolong

Best gifts:

• books
• tea
• theatre tickets

Time:

• Saturday mornings
• summer evenings
• birthday (I am 52 years young today)

 

Books I am currently reading:

• Leadership team coaching (Peter Hawkins)
• Sour Grapes (Dan Rhodes)
• The Atlas Complex (Olivie Blake)

right now

What would March be without "Right now" post? It invites to explore the moment and then capture it quickly. 

Right now I am:

:: sitting in a spring-sunny spot on my living room sofa

:: waiting for my green tea to brew

:: debating whether to eat the left over tiramisu (that I made for dad’s birthday) for breakfast or as a dessert for dinner

::  smiling at the family photos my sis shared on messenger from yesterday's party

:: appreciating a home office day

:: worrying that I might be sucked to the work behind a laptop forgetting to move enough

:: hoping my hubby's back is ok for us to go to the dance lesson in the evening to get exercise at least then

:: thinking I should plan this week carefully to ensure writing time on the following days that include school visits and a course

:: wondering how come I started the month strong with drafting in a journal or on a phone in the evenings and now I start the days with a blank page

:: feeling content that the twenty-fifth slice of this challenge is written 

All the previous "right now" posts.

a phone call with an aunt

The other day I called my eighty-eight year old aunt who lives alone on the other side of Estonia. Our conversation started like many before: how's health (she didn't want to talk about that), how's life (she stays mostly inside now), how's weather (grey and rainy) and then it continued with topics stretching from now to past to present, from home to universe, in no coherent order, we addressed them just as they surfaced. 

We talked about a tv show we both had watched (about a scientist who respects the mystery of life), old postcards, how someone’s handwriting creates a presence (that makes it impossible to throw away the postcard), my kids, her older brothers (one of them is my dad), memory playing tricks, what she read in someone’s diary that a family published, whether people write diaries for themselves or to be published (I vote for the first, she believes the second), her first job, the kindness of her first boss, where to buy flower stickers, the need for a good night sleep, about politics and the state of the world, clothes that seem to shrink, not wanting to think about her older sister (my other aunt) who passed away a year ago, campfires and boat rides, not to waste time on books that are not engaging, upcoming birthdays, nature magazines, food that doesn't taste like it used to. She reminded me that the universe keeps expanding (something we have spoken about before) and now besides the library the forest trail seems further and further away. We concluded with the need to have dreams, and how she now understands that a simple thing like a walk in a forest can be a grand dream for someone whose feet hurt. 

My aunt asked me to make sure my dad gives us the greetings and hugs she had given through their last phone call. I will make sure he does. Today we'll celebrate his 90th birthday in a small family circle (my dad's wish.)  

joining Leigh Anne's Slicer Party

 Leigh Anne's Slicer Party 

She has invited us to a Word Buffet. Oh my, this is an invitation that puzzles me the most. I don't even know where to start. I am pretty good with baking breads, pies, pastries, cookies and cakes.  Delivering the delicious delicate word snacks sounds like a Master Chef assignment. 

Then I remember that this party is a gathering of writerly friends, where no judgement is passed, no rankings made, and no eliminations happen. All experiments are politely accepted. 

I have been reading Dan Rhodes' "Sour Grapes" where one character, an author, likes to speak and write in super long words, and old out of use words, and sometimes makes up his own words like "sblomtamgungulous." I think of borrowing from his vocabulary. While I like the sound of the longer interesting words in English, and new words always create a spark in the brain, it doesn't feel right to take these. I'll sure taste them on my tongue when others bring them along. 

What about offering some Estonian words? I close my eyes and listen carefully what words whisper to be included. I am surprised that none of the fancy ones arrive. It's the everyday words, rather short and sweet.

Sinililled - the exact translation is "blue flowers", the blue anemones (sinilill in singular). I know why this word came. Spring has been slow to arrive in Estonia. The snowdrops under my window are rather short. The blue anemone signals full spring and it is my favourite spring flower.

Ema ja isa (emme ja issi) - mother and father (mom and dad). I think no explanation is needed here.

Piparmünt - Some people might be able to guess this one, it's peppermint. During the summer my husband layers peppermint leaves in small plastic containers and puts them in a freezer, and then during the winter we take them and make tea. There's something special in the taste of summer when waiting for the fresh green to return to the world.

Võlusõnad (tere, palun, aitäh) - the magic words (hello, please, thank you) are useful in every language.

Kalli-kalli - "Kallistus" means "a hug". "Kallis" means "dear" (also expensive but not in this context), so kalli-kalli is a word we use with children when we hug them, and also in the end of letters or phone calls with adults. 

So these are the words I'll bring to the buffet.

Kalli-kalli,
Terje

Waiting for these to bloom. Sinililled.

book spine poems

As soon as I posted yesterday, my writer's block got bored and vanished (probably trying its power with another slicer). My attention free to wander and mind relaxed to play again, I instantly got an idea for today's post: combining Multilingual Friday and Book Spine poetry.

I'll try my best with translation but it's harder than I thought. 

Novels, the first one is Estonian and others are translations that might have completely different titles in English. 

Vaikne ookean

Kuidas vaadata vett

Mida siit näha võib

Sellised väikesed asjad

Kõik mu mured mannetud

Kustunud mälestuste saar

Silent ocean*

How to watch water

What can you see from here

Such little things

All my worries feeble

The island of extinguished memories

*can also translate into Pacific Ocean

Poetry books, all Estonian authors:

Pimeduse tunnil

Sügaval elu hämaras

Janu on kõikidel üks

Paranemine

Aga armastusel on metsalinnu süda

Mu tiivad on mu juured

During the hour of darkness

Deep in the dusk of life

Thirst is the same for everyone

Healing

But love has the heart of a forest bird

My wings are my roots

And one super short in English for fun:

I will judge you by your bookshelf

Books make home

I love you my dears and would never judge you. Hug!

accept it

So now it arrived. The writer's block. The one I know doesn't exist and yet here it is, sitting between me and my laptop, blocking the view, blocking the mind, blocking the writing. 

I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to push it away. I wanted to smash it. I know I have the skills, tools and strategies to do it. 

I let it be. It is what it is. 

a sick day

It started at 4:a.m., the rumble in the stomach, the queasiness. It was still there at 7:30 a.m. and I realised that I wouldn't be able to go to work in this state. I called in sick. While I was awake I quickly posted a slice, thanking myself for having an emergency draft that I had written earlier. And good that I did because the rest of the day I wasn't up for anything. 

I had hoped that a few bathroom trips and throwing up would make me feel better. They didn't. The stomach ache kept me curled up and I ended spending the day in bed. I didn't have temperature but some cold spells and heat waves washed over me. I couldn't pinpoint what started the sickness, whether I caught a bug or ate foul food, anyway my body was fighting something and I didn't know how to help it besides letting it rest when it needed. 

Hardly ever getting sick I am always taken aback how awful it feels. Last time I was sick was with a cold and a back ache, and I thought this had been bad but at least I moved a bit and did something. Yesterday was worse. Besides the occasional bathroom trips, I was in my bed drifting into sleep and out. In the middle of the day I came out and thought I might be able to sit in the living room. I lasted five minutes and returned to bed again, falling asleep again. 

It was a day lost for me. I skipped morning exercise and mindfulness, I had to cancel my observation and feedback sessions at school, I had to give away my theatre ticket, I couldn't even read, or watch TV or scroll the phone, I didn't write my evening journal entries nor fill my gratitude journal. I slept, slept, slept.

You'd think that with all this sleeping I'd be awake at night. No I slept through the night also.

Feeling much better now, thank you.

not the usual challenge

I don't like shopping for shoes and clothes. This is an understatement. I dread and avoid shopping clothes and shoes, all the way to the point that there is no other option. I must do it because my last pair of jeans  has a tear beyond repair, I have only two pairs of socks left and the boots have the heel coming loose. 

Today I gathered my courage and my wallet and headed to the mall.

I had mapped my route and hoped for the best.

One, two, three go!

First stop.   I get two different sizes of jeans of the same type I bought last time (it is likely I have grown a bit wider), try them on in the changing room, take the pair that fits better, go to the cashier, pay. Done! Less than fifteen minutes. Thank you!

Next stop. "Any socks with foxes?" I ask. The shopkeeper shows me. I take these and one pair with giraffes that I have had before. I take a moment to think what else could I take. A pair with cats? Yes. Pay. Done! Have a good day!

The last stretch is the worst. There are too many shoe shops in the mall. There are too many shoes and boots. And none of them look like the ones I have now. First shop. Nothing. Second shop. Nothing. Third shop. Maybe? They don't have my size. Fourth shop. I try one boot on. I request the other. I walk around. They feel ok. They look ok. Ok is good. Pay. Bye!

Challenge completed!

I deserve a prize. A chocolate? A pice of cake? A book? 

The bookshop is the closest. 

Too many books to look at. Can't do it today, even though book shopping is usually my happiness source. 

I am ready to go home. I bought a box of strawberries. 

enjoy every moment

Sitting criss-crossed on a cushion on a floor of a sixth floor venue with a green plant wall and a beautiful view to the old town, I know I am in the right place in my life. With the rich taste of warm raw cocoa in my mouth I sing to the sound of a guitar and breathe together with a group of coaches/supervisors in making, a learning tribe who has grown and transformed together. This is the last hour of our last learning day of our two-year journey. When we meet in June, then for an exam and graduation. 

Some people would consider this soulful singing in a circle experience a torture. Some might label it nuts. The same would go for the coaching/supervision learning experience also. I don’t care. I am happy, relaxed, content in my skin, appreciative and feel a sense of belonging. 

Five years ago I didn’t even know there was a course like this, the place didn’t exist, nor had I any images of singing in a circle. Sometimes you can’t dream of what you don’t know that exists. But you can be open and curious and ready to plunge into the adventures that come along. 

I stretch my feet. From the corner of my eye I see a groupmate taking a photo of my socks. I know why. The bottoms of my socks say “enjoy every moment.” My journal too says "enjoy every given moment." And I do. 

a summer day

What am I doing here? Do I really think I can write poetry? That it's possible to learn it?

I give myself points for being me, for being here because I wanted to.

The grill smoke snakes in the air, the sun burns my neck, disco music blares from a neighbouring garden. I am sitting on a wooden chair in a backyard of a seaside village cafe. Old poetry journals and a cup with variety of pens compose the centrepiece of a round table where the six of us sit around letting the pens move across the journal pages. 

"Write with f* honesty" the young instructor had said.

What is the most honest thing I can write now? Nothing deep. There's no poetry inside me right now, at least not in a level to reach it. Of all the things I could have chosen to do today I came to this poetry workshop, even when for the rest of the family it seemed like a strange activity for a summer day. I regret a bit that I found writing so late in life. Yet, if I think of all the people over ninety I have forty more years to go. The most important thing would be to stay as healthy as possible, my mind clear, and my memory and sense of humour in tact, and that I wouldn't turn bitter. 

I am who I am, I do what I want, because I can. This is something, isn't it?

The words keep coming, the poems not, and it's ok. 

(on the photo I am on the right, you can only see my hair)

an early start for a day of learning

I have a brief moment to sit and write before I catch a train to the city to attend the third day of a coaching/supervision course. I'll eat the breakfast when I arrive in the train station. I have a new book (Sour Grapes by Dan Rhodes) for the forty minute ride. And I have an apple and a small bag of walnuts for snack. 

Over the past two years our learning cohort has met in various locations. This time we are in a coaching centre that one of the participants opened two months ago. It has one big room and several small ones on a sixth floor of the newest building in the city creative centre. 

The first day I sat so I had the view to the old town. I spaced out few times just dreamily looking at the distance. Pulled myself together. 

This is not an ordinary course where you listen to the lectures, take notes, do some group work, though we do that do. During the past two days I have drawn fish, danced, been on my back and stomach like a baby, made paper art, and a sculpture with my body based on a photograph's title. There's a continuous exploration on identity, considering context, changing perspectives, using head-gut-heart, finding and interpreting metaphors, and using collective wisdom to solve problems. Creative methods are there to help to bypass the cognitive rational thinking. We are way too much in our heads and getting out of the head is what is sometimes needed to understand situations, move on and create change. 

For the past two days my keywords have been flow and playfulness. They have served me well. With two more days to go who knows what else I would have to do - paint the sky or make music with my toes. 

be real

I sit on a train, the coat unzipped, my city backpack on a seat next to me. I have already taken my reading glasses and a book to be ready for the forty minute ride. 

My phone starts blinking and I see my daughter is  returning s missed call. 
I am sitting in the first wagon of the train. Are you coming?” I ask
"Yes, I’ll be there in five minutes," she replies.  
And she is. 

She sits next to me in the 7:20 pm train and we head home.

I have come from my coaching/supervision course and she from her acting class.

She tells me about her day, including watching a morning performance with her cousin (both skipped school), a lost pen preventing her from doing math homework, and missing lunch because she couldn’t decide what to eat besides a banana. The teacher in me should wave a finger for skipping school. As a mother I agree with my sister that the senior and first grader going to watch Astrid Lindgren's "Ronja" performance outweighs a day of classes.

I tell her about the supervision session that ended with dancing and about the delicious asian noodle soup and strawberry-rhubarb dessert. 

She is hungry and I give her my emergency muesli bar that is a bit flattened by months of travel in the bottom of my bag under laptop, cords, books, water bottle, and wallets. My daughter notices it has passed the expiration date. She decides to take the risk and eats it anyway. 
She is thirsty and I give her my water bottle. Her own bottle is empty because the cousin drank all the water. 

I start reading my book - a collection of literary criticism, theatre reviews and essays. Oh, the writer is so skillful with the words. She speaks directly to the reader in this friendly over the table kind of way, including her likes and dislikes, wonders and surprises, boredom and disappointment, connecting mundane everyday moments with playful literary devices.

My daughter is on the phone, scrolling Pinterest, chatting with friends. 
Then she finds that one of the titles "Garbage and Roofs" is funny, snaps a photo and asks her friends to guess the author. They don’t.

“Be Real time.” she says, “Let’s have the book also on the picture.”

So I close the book and lift it up. We lean closer to each other and she takes a photo.

“Send it to me too," I say, thinking I need it for my be real slice.

time travel

"Do you remember that it was exactly four years ago that we received a Toblerone and a toilet paper roll and went to lock down?" a former colleague sent a note on a messenger yesterday. I went quickly back on my blog and saw that this was true on the 13th of March 2020. This is what I could slice about I made a plan.

I got home late last night, too late to draft the slice. I kind of like the drafting in the evening, it’s less pressure the next morning, but, oh well, sometimes the mornings would have to do, and sometimes the writing might move to the last minute.

The evening was good though. I spent almost two hours in a cafe chatting with an educational coach whom I had first “met” on LinkedIn and we had arranged this meeting more than a month ago. It took so long because she lives in the southwestern part of Estonia and we decided we’ll meet face to face when she comes to Tallinn. Evening meeting in Tallinn means a late train ride home for me, but how great it was to talk to her, so easy and engaging.

I’m glad I have time this morning because instead of a workday I will go to my coaching/supervision course 11th 4-day module, the last one before the final exams in June. I haven’t even left my couch yet and I already feel bittersweet. In years to come I will read this post and think, “oh, this was my life then.”

 

Today is the 14th of March during my 14th SOLSC.

The yesterday’s message and post about the Toblerone and toilet paper in 2020 nudged me to get curious to see what I had written on the 14th of March in previous years. The following is probably meant for me more than it is for any other reader. You may read it, but you don’t have to. You are also welcome to click on the links if you are curious, but I understand when you have to wave goodbye and move on to other slices.

Last year - 2023 - It is an ordinary slice about an ordinary outside break. Only I know that the last line "I could use their attitude of not being afraid to fall to plunge into some adventures of life." refers to my decision to apply for a new job. 

Two years ago - 2022 - One of my all time favourite lists "50 good things in life" - a list I nudged several of my friends to write also. Behind the scenes a war is going on in Ukraine and I struggle with turning fifty.

Three years ago -2021 - Self-care during the second year of Covid and the second distance learning stretch. 

Four years ago -2020 - The post following the announcement of a lock down, yet it's written on a Saturday morning at  home, the most ordinary place, what a contrast to know that on Monday we started months long distance learning.

Five years ago -2019 - A book spine poem (makes me smile)

Six years ago- 2018 - A day before an opening of a photo exhibition of a class I took. I was scared. Looking back, I am happy I had the experience. 

Seven years ago -2017 - A morning walk through the city to work.  I miss the morning walk on the city streets a bit, but not having to commute daily has allowed me to sleep longer in the mornings, and this is valuable. 

Eight years ago - 2016 - "What are you reading?" slice. I am still a reader. This hasn't changed. 

Nine years ago - 2015 - Written and unwritten slices - a busy week - a happy life. 

Ten years ago - 2014 - A newspaper article about my mom. A decade later she is still energetic and active at the age of seventy-nine. She is a teacher at heart, tutoring two students once a week. 

Eleven years ago - 2013 - Is it really eleven years since I finished Literacy Coaching Cohort? What an amazing experience this was. I did not envision what the future would bring. Since then I have learned Cognitive Coaching and now I am about to finish a long coaching/supervision course. 

Twelve years ago - 2012 - Writing about Pinterest. It shows you can slice about anything. I am still on Pinterest, not as active as at the start. Mostly checking recipes, sometimes looking at some boards just to feel good. 

Thirteen years ago - 2011 Cha-cha challenge - this made me smile broadly. I could have written this post this year. 

I am glad I have recorded the extraordinary and I am even more happier I have recorded the ordinary.