It seems I’ve broken the rules of blogging and gone almost two weeks without posting anything new.

Ah, well.  Such is life.

The reality is that school started last week and I took the week to spend some time enjoying the quiet in my house.

That, and I was so damn frustrated that I couldn’t breathe.

You want to know what sent me into a tailspin, causing me to question everything?

I’m trying to get insurance to cover my life coaching business so that my butt is covered if someone decides that I gave them bad advice.   Sad that it’s needed, but okay.

So the nice insurance lady calls me and says,

“Underwriter would like to know what makes you think you are qualified to be a Life Coach?”

I very nicely reply, “I have a diploma as a Social Service Worker.”

“Oh great,” She says, “And how long have you worked in the field?”

” About twenty years,” say I.

“And with what company or organization?” She wants to know.

Oh dear, I think.  Here we go. “Well, I’ve never actually been paid for what I do.”

“So you’ve never actually worked in the field.  So what is it that makes you qualified to be a life coach?”

I try a different tract, “20 years of life experience, then.”

“Like what?”  She asks.  I can hear in her voice that she’s starting to think I’m an idiot.  And now I’m getting annoyed.

“Okay, well, let’s start with multiple marriages, so I know quite a bit about relationships.  Abuse in one of those marriages, so that’s covered.  I have two kids, and siblings with large families, so I think I have some parenting wisdom to share.  Also, I’ve worked with people dealing with everything from abortion to childhood sexual abuse to coming out of the closet to…”  And she stops me there.

“So,”  She says, patiently, “You think that all this experience, even though you’ve never worked as a Social Worker, plus your diploma, qualifies you to be a Life Coach?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, well, I’ll put it to the underwriter.”  Still sounding like she thinks I’m a loon for even thinking about becoming a Life Coach.  After all, I’ve never been paid for any of this, so what could I possibly have to offer?

And we hang up.  And now I’m frustrated.

Could she be right?  Am I just chasing another dream that’s gonna end up where all the other ones have?  In the trash because I got too frustrated to follow through.

I’ll be honest.  That conversation was enough to put me in a funk for quite a few days.  I even started looking for a job.  I started reasoning that it would be easier to just continue doing what I was doing and work at some crummy job to pay the bills.

Gaa.  I hate crummy jobs.

But, you know what happened?  My best friend called with relationship issues.  Then my niece texted me with some general life questions.  And I realized that the insurance lady is wrong.  Working with people is what I do.  It’s who I am.  And it’s about time I started getting paid for it.

So I’m gonna work my butt off.  And I’m gonna accept that the insurance company thinks I’m a loon and will likely charge me an arm and a leg.  And that’s okay.

This is what I was meant to do and I’m not going to let anyone or any thing get in my way.

I don’t look a day over 35…

Today is my birthday.  I’m feeling everyone one of my 42 years today.

Yes.  I really am 42.

The women in my family age gracefully, so I’m pretty comfortable admitting my age.

My husband, incredibly smart man that he is, says I don’t look a day over 35.  Bless his heart!

Okay, so enough of talking about age.  I already wrote a blog about that.

This is my first post in almost a week as I’ve had a mentally rough couple of weeks.  My son had a tonsillectomy, which in turn made my daughter a cling-on.  When you’re basically an introvert that needs time alone to recharge, these two things alone make it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything beyond getting through the next minute.

Add to that the fact that this week I’ve been given some disturbing news about someone I love dearly, had my beliefs challenged and been emotionally attacked and you may wonder why I’m writing at all today.  I should be curled up in a ball, sucking my thumb and humming the tune from “New York, New York”.

I wanted to.  I really did.  Even came close as my wonderful husband let me sleep in this morning, given the occasion of my birthday.

But I didn’t.  That would have been too easy.  Instead I got up, stepped into the shower, turned on the hot as far as it would go to ease my aching back (that’s where I hold stress) and began to count my many blessings.  And as I did, my back began to ache less and the stress began to ease.  My mind became clearer and more focused. 

Because I am blessed.  Many, many times over.  I am surrounded by some pretty incredible people.  Some are family by blood, most are family by love.  And I have so much to be grateful for:

I’m happily married to a wonderful man and have been so for 10 years.  A record these days, and a personal record for me.

I have two beautiful children that are my joy on a daily basis and are healthy and happy.  Most of the time, anyway.  Kids are kids after all.🙂

I have two wonderful fur babies whose only goal in life is to love me and bring a smile to my face daily.  And they do.

I have a warm and loving home that is peaceful and calming and all who enter feel comfortable, warm and loved upon entering.

And, I am surrounded by amazing people each an every day that support me and encourage me and love me. 

So ya, I am really blessed.  And I am thankful for each of these things and people and a whole lot more.  I truly believe that life is what you make it, and I am in the midst of making mine incredible.


If you’re wondering about all that stuff that put me in a funk in the first place, my son is doing A LOT better, talking and eating again; my daughter is less of a cling-on; and the stuff that happened earlier this week, while needing some thought, is no longer as distressing as it was.

So, Happy Birthday to me.  Still feeling every one of my 42 years, but the years no longer weigh so heavily.

….And then I moved the couch.


I found a flea on my dog.

I hate fleas.  Not so much the little critters themselves.  I’m sure they were created for some kind of purpose, although what exactly is beyond me.  I hate fleas because of the work that they symbolize.  The cleaning.  The bathing.  The laundry.  The vacuuming. 

The saying goes that if you find one flea on your pet, there are likely 100 more hanging around.


I found the flea on Monday.  I held my panic in check, found my flea-fighting supplies, made a list and came up with a battle plan.

Tuesday we went shopping for the needed flea-fighting supplies.  As the kitten is still only about 10 weeks old, I couldn’t find a firm answer as to what I was to do with her, exactly.  Turns out that the incredibly nice lady at the pet supply store said to just wash her with Dove dish soap and comb her with a fine toothed comb.  Of course, that was AFTER I had purchased my groceries and of course, do not normally use Dove dish soap.  Nothing against Dove dish soap.  Just not what I normally use.

We got home and I organized my supplies and planned my plan. Wednesday would be D-day for the fleas.  Since you can’t just treat the pets, you have to clean, launder, wash and vacuum EVERYTHING, I figured the fleas could have one more day.

Today is D-day.  I got up at the crack of stupid to wash the cat and then the dog in the kitchen sink.  My dog is way too fat for the kitchen sink, so he had to be done in parts.  Poor guy.    The cat survived her first bath with surprising grace.  She even let me towel dry her and comb her.  I survived the experience with absolutely no scratches.

Speaking of scratches, did you know you can buy “claw covers” for cats and kittens?  They even come in colors!  I would sincerely like to watch someone put those on.  That would be a super popular youtube video for sure.

Anyway, I cleaned the main floor of the house and started the laundry, washing the bedding, including the dog bedding first.

Now, I must stop you here and point out that I really hate housework.  It’s really not my thing.  I hate doing laundry even more than doing housework.  If we were playing a game of “would you rather?”  I would rather clean the toilet than do laundry.  But with a hubby and two kids, housework and laundry are a fact of life, a drudgery that must be dealt with on a fairly regular basis.  I try my best to keep things neat and tidy most of the time because I’ve found that a little done each day is better than a whole bunch in one day.

But when dealing with fleas, you must do everything in one day, otherwise you run the risk of having to do it again.  And again.  And again.

So I was doing well, things neat and tidy, freshly sprayed with flea spray and floors washed, etc.  Thank goodness I don’t have much carpeting to deal with.  And then I remembered that even though the dog is way too fat to fit under the couch, the cat has made it her favored hiding place.  So out the couch must come so I can clean under and behind it.

oh dear.

The dust bunnies were so big I was afraid I was going to have to give them a flea bath too.

There were toys under there that had been missing since we moved in.  So much dog hair that I began to wonder if dust bunnies had competition.

Let me just say that cleaning under the couch is now my new, least favorite cleaning job.  It was pretty gross.  But the dust bunnies are gone, the dog hair vacuumed up and the various bits and bobs have been claimed and put away….for now. 

I’m still working on the laundry, at the moment, but it’s all bagged and downstairs, waiting it’s turn in machine.  The house smells lightly chemically, but clean.

And, I’m fairly confident, flea free.



Gratitude – Not just for Thanksgiving.

One of the biggest ways that my life has changed over the past few years is in my ability to be grateful.  I know that sounds like I must have been a pretty selfish person previously, and I guess I was.  I was so concerned with everything that was going wrong in my life for so many years that it took a long time and a few good books to realize that the more I focused on the crappy stuff, the more crappy stuff kept happening to me.

And it was pretty crappy, let me tell ya.

And then I started reading “the books”.  You know the ones.  If Oprah recommended it, I likely read it.  I knew I wanted to make a change in my life, I just didn’t know quite how.

When I came across the concept of gratitude – being thankful every day for the blessings that are already in your life actually brings more things to your life to be grateful for, I was a little taken aback.  Could it really be that easy?

I mean, sure.  I was grateful for my husband and my kid (I only had one at the time.) I was grateful for lots of stuff. 

But how often do we actually say the words?  No matter what your religious or non religious beliefs, how often do you say thank you?  Do you thank the universe/God/Goddess/the Force/Whatever? 

Do you thank the waiter or waitress that brings your coffee?

When was the last time you thanked your parents or significant other, just by saying “I appreciate you and all that you do/have done for me”?

Those are just examples, of course.  My point is that with everything going on in my life; everything that had gone on and was continuing to go on, being thankful was not something I did on any form of a regular basis.  If at all.

And so I started.  I thought, at first, that I didn’t really have that much to be grateful for.  So I got out a piece of paper and a pen one night when I couldn’t sleep and I started to write down what I could possibly have to be grateful for.

Three pages, single spaced, later I found out.  I did, indeed, have a TON to be grateful for.  Everything from the people in my life to the fact that I had clothes to wear and food to eat.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  The clothes left something to be desired and the food was not my favorite, but at least I had both in a world where so many people had neither.

So I began to weave gratitude into my daily life.  Many days the only time I had to myself was either in the shower or in those last moments before falling asleep.  Often I would fall asleep listing all that I had to be grateful for.

And my life began to change.

As it began to change I learned more and more about this gratitude stuff and how it works.  I learned that as well as being grateful for the blessings already in my life, I could be grateful for the blessings to come.  It was okay to be grateful for the wonderful stuff that I wanted to be in my life.

It’s okay to be grateful for the blessings that I wanted to be in my life.

Got that?

That right there is some pretty powerful stuff.  Often we ask for better stuff in our lives.  A new house, a new job, a baby, the baby to stop crying, whatever.  But how often are you thankful for it before you even get it?

I realized how powerful being grateful was when I was toilet training my son.  I was so very frustrated, as a lot of parents are during this stage, as he had no problem peeing in the toilet, but pooping was another thing entirely.  It became a daily battle.  I tried everything from sticker charts to presents.  Nothing.

And then I read something about being grateful for the stuff you didn’t have in your life yet but wanted.  So I gave it a shot.  I woke up the next morning and, along with all the other stuff I was grateful for, said I was grateful that dear son was finally toilet trained.

And guess what?  I got the inspiration to let him put a stamp on a piece of paper every time he pooped in the toilet.  And it worked.  Yes, it did.

Now, you might say that that is just a coincidence.  You might.  But I believe that by choosing to be grateful for that one little thing, I actually made it happen. 

And it made me see the bigger picture.  I began to be grateful for all the wonderful blessings in my life, both the ones I had and the ones I wanted. 

Now, here’s where things get honest.  When you read those books or watch those shows or the infomercials, they make it seem like once you get to this point, your life is a bed of roses. 

I’m sure for those that actually start out in the bed of roses, life continues to be.  Not so much for me.  I had good days and not so great days.  But I worked hard to be grateful anyway.  And life began to change for me.  For us.

Enough that I began to see what the big deal about gratitude was all about.  Enough that it became one of the first parts of my morning ritual, along with writing in my journal, personal affirmations and now, blogging.  I don’t always get to do all of those things every day.  Sometimes life gets in the way.  But if I do nothing else, I’m sure take time to be grateful each day.

And today?  Today I’m grateful for the beautiful sun shining.  I’m grateful for baby girl singing her heart out in the living room.  That my son’s tonsillectomy went well last week and this morning he seems finally on the mend.  That my hubby had a great weekend at work and is finally on his way home.  And that he will arrive home safe and sound.

And, I’m grateful for my readers.  Thank you for taking the time to read my blog.  For leaving your comments and insights.

Thank you.

People have asked me recently what exactly a Light Worker is and why do I insist on putting it on my business card.

So, the term “Light Worker” is used to describe someone that has taken on the responsibility of guiding others on their own spiritual journeys.

Why do I insist on putting it on my business card?  Well, because that’s one of the things I do.

But let me explain why.

I was raised in a church-going family.  My mother was born and raised a Catholic, my dad, Anglican.  When I was born I was baptized in the Catholic church.  Somewhere around the age of 10 or 11 my parents began attending a small Missionary church and eventually became Christians and both became active in the church.  The day that my parents were baptized as “born again Christians”,  I “accepted Jesus into my heart” and I too became “born again”.  I was baptized in the Christian church at about age 20.

Growing up I was often categorized as the “good, little Christian girl”.  And I tried.  I really did.  But something always felt a little off to me.  Like wearing a sweater with an itchy tag.  It looked great and kept me warm, but didn’t quite feel right.  Because I couldn’t figure out exactly what was off, and didn’t feel like there was anyone to ask about it, I kept my mouth shut and did all the stuff a good little Christian girl is supposed to do.  On the surface anyway.

Things kept happening to me during all those years.  People that I knew no one else could see would come to visit me.  In the early years I couldn’t tell much beyond the fact that I wasn’t alone, but it was enough.  No matter how much, or how often I followed the “rules” laid down by my church, I would still get these visits.

When I moved out of the house I eventually stopped going to church.  I was an “adult” now and could think and reason freely.  Unfortunately, I was also free to engage in all the things I wasn’t allowed to do when I lived at home, so as you can imagine, my spirituality, or lack thereof, was shelved for quite some time.

I won’t go into the details of those years between then and now.  Let’s just say I did quite a bit of living, a tremendous amount of learning and gained enough life experience that I feel quite comfortable also adding the term “Life Coach” to my business card.

In the past couple of years though, I’ve been given the time and the opportunity to reflect on what and why some of those aspects of organized religion didn’t feel right to me.  I’ve been given the opportunity to grow and feel comfortable in my own beliefs.  And very recently, I’ve learned that I am not alone in those beliefs.  That the things that happen to me, the things that I can do, don’t make me crazy.  They make me a spiritual being having a human experience.  And that’s okay

So what about the Christianity I grew up with?  How does that factor in?  Well, it didn’t really.  Not for the longest time.  And then I was given the following tidbit of information,

” ….the word “God” is like the word, “water”.  In all the languages of the world, “water” has it’s own word.  But it’s still water.  So it is with God….”

What that means is that it doesn’t matter what religion you call yourself to be, what line of reasoning you follow.  If you believe in something, someone greater than yourself, no matter what you call it, it’s the same.

Father God


Universal Energy



Mother Earth

The “Force”

Whatever you want to call it, the name doesn’t really matter.  The fact that you believe does.

We all know that there are as many different ways to believe and to practice spirituality as there are individuals on the planet.  What I do is help people not only recognize their spirituality, but when they’re ready, to begin integrating it into their lives on a daily basis.

I don’t  judge.  I don’t make excuses.  I don’t say that what you believe spiritually to be true is wrong.

I do believe that we are all spiritual beings on this planet having our own unique and very human experience.  I want to work to bring people together because I don’t want anyone to feel alone.  We all already feel isolated for so many other reasons.  And I struggled with my own spirituality for so long.

That anyone should feel isolated or alone on their own unique journey is, in my opinion, not an option.

So there you have it.  This is why I have chosen and been chosen to be a Light Worker.  So that YOU don’t ever have to feel alone.

Peace and Light to you.

Age is just a number……right?

The other day I spent a few hours visiting with a very wonderful lady who has become a very close friend in just a few short months.  She is a true Earth Angel and has taught me a lot about myself, my spirituality and, indeed, about life in general. 

Although I had always known that she is younger than me, I have to admit that it came as somewhat of a shock to find out exactly how much younger than me she actually is.  She’s still a baby, for goodness sakes! 

So, after some consideration on the subject, I wondered……. at what age does age become just a number? 

When we have children, we are often taught to judge their milestones based upon their age,

“My little Timmy was walking at 10 months.”  Well, bully for Timmy, I’d always thought, when my angel was still bum scooting at 12 months.  But I digress.

The age when we begin to realize that other people have feelings and that the world does not revolve solely around us, I was taught in psychology class, is age 5.  Some people, I’ve learned, never learn that the world does not revolve around them.

The age that we officially become teenagers is 13.  We can begin driving at 16, begin voting at 18 and begin purchasing alcohol at the ripe old age of 19 (where I live).

We are considered a senior citizen at age 65 and are then entitled to everything from discounted meals to pension plans.  A person that lives to age 70 is considered is considered old, if you make it to age 80 you are well preserved and at age 90, well, congratulations.

But what happens in the in between years?  Can someone with as few as 28 years on this planet have as much wisdom as someone with, say, 60?  And why do we automatically assume that being older makes people wiser?  I’ve known some older people that could definitely learn a thing or two. 

Now, I’m not in any way, saying that older people are not wise and should not be treated with respect.  My mother did not raise me that way.  But that isn’t what this is about.

I think that age really is just a number.  Although the number is important in some way, for some reason, to everyone, when it comes to friendships and wisdom, age has no place.  Wisdom is about the things you’ve been through in your life. Your ability to recognize that there will always be people that know more than you, but what you do know is important. 

Friendships are supposed to be based on mutual respect and mutual interests.  That you both can still laugh because someone said “I will do just about anything for some wood” like it’s a dirty joke, has nothing to do with the number of years you’ve been on the planet.  It has everything to do with the fact that both of you have minds that spend a significant amount of time in the gutter.