Janice MacLeod's Blog, page 5

If I could sniff you, September, you would smell like freshly sharpened pencils.

Dropped Miss Mini Me off to school this morning. Neither of us slept well in the night. Anxious about ALL THE THINGS but knowing it would all be okay, which it was… at least at 8:30 this morning. Then I came home and didn’t know if I should do all the things or none of the things.

I decided to change my desktop photo. Hardly screams accomplishment.

The healing of the torso is going well. There was a “sticky” moment when I had a few infected stitches, but I pulled them out MYSELF like I was Claire on Outlander.

Thank goodness for severed nerves. Numbness helps when one is standing at the mirror with a pair of disinfected eyebrow tweezers and eyes full of panic.

No one wants to unravel like a sweater.

The gracious GoFundMe campaign has actually been doing what it was meant to do: Calm me down so I stop trying to plow through and heal what needs to heal. The people in my life who have shown up during this time astound me by their generous spirit. Thank you thank you thank you. There were a slew of Anonymous donations, so thank you Anonymous, whoever you are.

I still get weepy.

Emotions are weaved into our muscle memory. My body is still flummoxed. My back likes to announce with bellowing aches when it is time to lay down. Then I lay down and feel better.

It’s a process.

During this time I have been on light duties, work wise. I have been cleaning my office… it’s a paper situation. Where do I file this paper? That paper? These papers? Why did I buy so many books at the library book sale?!?!

Many hopeful projects. Some of which I have mercifully released to the Donation box.

During this time, I also whipped this up: A 2023 dated planner.

I whipped it up because someone who bought my undated planner gave me a few excellent notes:

She wanted Paris art inside, in full technicolor dreamy hues. Done!

She wanted to dream of Paris all year long. And she wanted full colour interiors.

I get it.

These Paris street scenes are the golden oldies from my Paris books.

I wanted DATES and BIG squares and LARGE areas to write a whole year’s worth of remarkable plans that don’t involve recovering from surgery or Lyme disease.

Just look at those squares. I’m going to take my freshly sharpened pencils and jot down all kinds of big plans.

Two-page weekly spreads for ample evil planning.

I know it’s not quite yet 2023. This is very far away, but September makes us all want to buy art supplies. Right? I can’t be the only one.

I vacillate between artfully arranging my art supplies, wanting more art supplies, and Christmas shopping. Clearly, 2022 hasn’t been my year and I will be very happy to close my 2022 planner and move on to the 2023 planner. Planners gonna plan. YEAH!

If you want a 2023 Paris Planner, they are over at Amazon. Softcover and hardcover. Both luxurious in their own way.

Much has happened since my last post.

It started with flowers from Barbara who is one of my Typewriter Letters subscribers. Then came a few emails about how to help during my recovery period after surgery. One person sent Door Dash. Amazing! Another sent an Amazon gift card. Amazing! Another asked “How can I pay for someone to clean your house?”

There was a lot of fielding of messages and very little brain capability to do so.

Sarah suggested a Go Fund Me campaign to make it easier for friends who live far away to help. They can’t exactly ship me a meatloaf, but they can send cash so I can order a local meatloaf and have it delivered.

It was uncomfortable feeling surrendered.

She created the Go Fund Me campaign while I sat in my house with this monologue in my head:

I don’t know how to do this, to sit with this, to ask.

So I consulted Amanda Palmer:

I remember learning about The Art of Asking and feeling cringey about the idea of asking for anything from anyone. The language of love I understood was to stay out of the way and don’t ask for much.

When I met Christophe and he had asked me to pick up a few things at the grocery story, I questioned the validity of our entire relationship.

If he loved me, he wouldn’t burden me with the task of picking up mustard and tea at the friggin’ Fran Prix! (French grocery store)

Even now, the worst thing he can ask of me is to go to the friggin’ No Frills. (Canadian grocery store)

So to admit wanting help feels like I’m telling people that I don’t love them enough to keep my head down and figure it all out quietly on my own. That is the opposite of the truth. I love my people. My people are THE BEST.

The truth is also this: In this astounding weakness after surgery, I want the help, I don’t want to admit it, I’m glad for it, and I need it. And it’s an eternal three months of recovery ahead without working.

The Go Fund Me has provided RELIEF.

Relief is an overlooked emotion, but holy goodness gracious, relief feels good. It feels like giving the the heavy lift I can’t lift myself with these dinosaur arms.

As a person making a living from creating, this is the usual exchange:

I make a thing. Someone gives me money for the thing.

So it was tough to get my head around what I thought the Go Fund Me thing would be:

I don’t make a thing. Someone gives me money anyway.

But I was wrong. It was about opening a door to let people help if they wanted to help. 

And to provide a safe website where they could easily donate without having to field me with questions… amazing.

As I saw donations come in, I felt overwhelming gratitude. More than I knew what to do with. My large circle of friends, fans, colleagues, and all-of-the-aboves were like light bulbs of love flickering on all over the world. All these bulbs of loving light made my own bulb of love grow. It started to feel fun instead of hard…

Like we all decided to rekindle our love for each other.

Then, in a surprising twist, my five year old picked up her toys. She puttered around and put all the toys away that I couldn’t bend over to reach on my own. I was even too tired to ask (and ask again) for her to do it. She just did it on her own.

Then she took flowers from the garden and put them in a vase by my bed. 

And I fell asleep feeling very taken care of.

Thank you.

Janice

PS If you want to help, here is the Go Fund Me page.

This is not me. This is a woman wading through the dangers of the wild.

You’ve seen a million images of ladies in dresses frolicking through a meadow feeling enlightened or happy or introspective.

All I think is, “Lady, you better have some bug spray on those legs.”

Turns out my feverish delirium of June was Lyme disease.

I knew I shouldn’t have moved that canoe out from the cedar hedge in a dress. Or pulled those weeds… in a dress. Or planted, harvested, walked though my garden… in a dress. Because a Lyme tick got all up in my business and gave me a hickey on my upper thigh. Then it gave me a slew of symptoms:

Fever, welts, body aches, and even a leg that would give out at random moments. Lyme is no joke. 

Because life is full of fun timing, it followed with my reconstruction surgery after my big bout of breast cancer.

I don’t need you imagining my “chestal area.”

I’ll give you a picture instead:

In short, they took my lovely paunch between my belly button and bikini line, configured a couple breasts out of it and sewed them on top. They rerouted the inner plumbing to make it all work. Since they removed my belly button in the process, they made me a new and improved belly button.

I won’t always look like Frankenstein.

In fact, already my body looks NORMAL again… even with the stitches. I will NEVER, EVER, EVER complain about my body again. It works and it is no longer deformed. That’s the bar. 

Living without your boobs blows.

It’s nice to have a reasonable facsimile in their place.

When I was explaining the procedure to a relative in Poland, he remarked how different our cultures were, that they would NEVER talk about such things.

As a memoirist, this is astounding, but as a woman, I think it’s also dangerous.

We have to share things so we can help the next person who goes through something similar.

This blog post helped me prepare for my DIEP breast reconstruction. 

Someone you know will have to deal with this at some point. Sharing information helps us figure out the unfathomable during a time when we can’t think straight.

When you know someone who is dealing with some health stuff, give them groceries and offer rides to the hospital. Do not say, “You got this” to be encouraging. They don’t got this. They need help. I certainly need help. I can’t even bend over.

Just imagine the detritus of a summer vacation at home with a 5 year old and I can’t bend over. 

The weeds have taken over in the garden. The toys are ruling the roost. I’ve got a 3 month recovery on the roster where I can’t work. However, I have managed to sit in my chair for the entirety of this blog post, but soon I must lay down.

The body won’t let you force yourself toward healing.

If I am not horizontal, my back aches and I start to get nauseous. So there is a lot of cartoons. We set up the comfy chair next to the couch so Amélie and I can sit together and watch TV.

I can’t even handle much more than a cartoon. My nerves are frazzled by the hospital experience where I could only eat ice chips, couldn’t pull myself out of bed, and listened to the unique symphony of sounds only a hospital can provide.

In summary, help where you can, share your knowledge, and wear bug spray.

It started off as either a bug bite or an infected hair follicle.

Blood work hasn’t come back yet so no need to scroll to the bottom for a big reveal.

Even I don’t know what happened. All I know is I had an angry welt on my leg followed by a fever.

Self medicating ensued. A week of so much Tylenol, winter hats, wet sweaty clothes, and back again. Each day I thought would be the final day. It was just a fever.

HA!

The welts spread to an all-body situation. Clearly time to call the doctor. The pharmacist handed me antibiotics and I scarfed back my first one right there and then like I was a junkie in need of a hit.

Took another week for everything to simmer down.

Two weeks of feverish out of control angry welts. Still not sure what that was all about. It has left me creaky and weak. It reminded me of the stages of health I created for myself with the whole cancer fiasco a few years ago.

THE STAGES OF HEALTH

Stage 1: Healthy enough to exercise and then going to exercise

Stage 2: Healthy enough to exercise but not exercising and feeling guilty about it.

Stage 3: Not feeling healthy enough to exercise and not feeling guilty about it.

Stage 4: Exercise isn’t even an option. Just trying to stay awake.

I made it to Stage 4 during the chemo and radiation of treatments, then crawled myself back to Stage 1, which took A YEAR.

This fever brought me BACK to Stage 3. A two week fever over probably something as trivial as an infected hair follicle?!?!!??!

Life is tender business. It really is true when they say if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.

The fever presented me with a few gifts.

Gift 1: Stopped self loathing. Stopped the simmering irritation of not having the bod of a teenager. Somewhere in my brain, links formed in my teenage years about body image have been fused/knotted/stuck together really tight. The fever, I hope, burned some of that out of my brain. A fever-induced lobotomy. Because now I look in the mirror and think “No fever… standing up… amazing human.”

Gift 2: Book reading. When I am ill, my creativity goes silent. The other day was International Typewriter Day and I didn’t even blog about it. That is how sick I was. I didn’t even type on my typewriter. I just read books. Here’s what I read:

I haven’t read a Danielle Steel book since my early teens. I had forgotten how much the reader is spoon fed all the details. No need to put two and two together or to find out what happens next. She will tell you. Over and over again. It’s almost like mansplaining.

People go crazy for this book. I thought it was ridiculous. It was written by a man who clearly has no concept of social obligation or energy management. I would like this book to be written by a tired mommy. The fact that he was so dismissive of half the population and focused on his myopic view that everyone has all day to do anything and all the energy to do it INFURIATED me. Then I had to calm down because I didn’t want my temperature to rise. James Clear can bite me. But if he does, he could get welts.

Between life and death there is a library. That’s how this book starts and it is a beautiful masterpiece of wonderful. I liked everything about this book, from concept to execution. Reading it could actually change your life with way Life of Pi can change your life… really. Worth it!

Aw, look at that. I just used an exclamation mark. I’m clearly on the mend.

Before all this happened, I listed a 12-month subscription of the best of the best Paris Letters in my shop. One delivered once a month to anyone who could use fun mail. Of course I have been too sick to tell you about it. I created it because many people were buying single letters and asking me to send one per month. So, I whipped up a listing of it.

Subscribe over at the shop. Makes a great gift. As does life after a fever. Speaking of books… a few summer reads to slake your cravings for Paris…

And also with you.

I just can’t help it.

Neither can you if you spent childhood Sunday mornings counting the stained glass in church… counting the pews… counting the candles… counting the people.

Anyway, May the 4th… Star Wars Day.

There are many holidays in life that make us reflective. Christmas is marinated in memories, birthdays that end in a zero invite pondering, and let us consider the natural nostalgia of Star Wars Day.

Where were you when you first discovered Star Wars?

It started on Student Appreciation Day in my elementary school. We watched it in the gym on floor mats, then were given rocket popsicles. Solid hand clap for the teachers to added a thematic snack.

 I always thought of them as rockets, but they could be lightsabers.

After Return of the Jedi came out, I was so very bummed. There were no films on the horizon. Just a lot of unanswered questions. But how does it all turn out?

Then Hollywood started investing in established franchises and “sure bets.”

Prequels while we wait for the original cast to age. 

I went to the midnight opening of the Star Wars prequels. Now that I’m a mom of a little kid, I look toward Disney+ for my Star Wars fix. Star Wars in pajama pants. Plus, I’m already up at midnight with a kid squished against me and an elbow in the face. Not all night, just long enough to bed hop a few times.

On one May the 4th, I was sitting at a train station with the lovely Aine. There was a comic book conference nearby. Everyone was dressed up. I thought, yep, this is how it would actually be in Star Wars. All these creatures showing up at a train station from other galaxies on their way to other galaxies. We were the earthlings.. as weird to them as they to us.

It is nice to know how it all turned out with Star Wars. It’s satisfying to know who lived and who died in the film and in real life. As weird as that sounds. It’s like living IN THE FUTURE right NOW. There are even a few people I couldn’t speak to until after they watched because… because I couldn’t be the one to tell them… what happened.

I even had a carpool buddy who wouldn’t carpool with me unless I caught up. 

He just couldn’t NOT talk about it. That’s what Star Wars does to us.

AND… amazingly… because life is so incredible… Ewan McGregor’s books sit next to my books at the bookstore. Best. Part. Ever. There are times when you think “OMG I have a book in a bookstore!!!” Then you stop and say “OMG I have a book in a bookstore NEXT TO Ewan McGregor’s books!!!!”

But not at Shakespeare and Company. I’m not in the travel section with Ewan. I’m in the Paris section with the other Paris books. Fair enough.

Shakespeare and Company, the first time I saw Paris Letters on a shelf.

To celebrate May the 4th, my Top 10 Obi-Wan Kenobi quotes.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi: So that’s your plan: Just fly there, land, hope they don’t spot us, and walk in the door?

Anakin Skywalker: Basically.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Oh, brilliant. Let’s get going.”

“You can’t win, Vader. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”“Mos Eisley spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”“Be mindful of your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you.”“Why do I get the feeling that you  are going to be the death of me?”The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.“Why do I get the feeling that we’ve picked up another pathetic life form?”“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”“Skill is the child of patience.”
and of course…The Force will be with you … always. 

Watch the interview where we discuss the flow of creative living

Sometimes I think there is NOTHING out there, no BEYOND, no hope. No nothing. The world is just cruel and then it’s over. And then… things happen that make me curious and dance in the delight of the divine.

It’s a mixed bag.

Erin from The Elegant Life came across me in a group Zoom call with business coach Leonie Dawson. She recognized me and contacted me for a YouTube interview aaaaand…

Turns out we lived on the same street in Calgary.

We went to the same pizza place, the same coffee shop… probably walked by each other with a friendly smile because… Calgarians. Sheesh, a lot of smiling. Now we are both far away from Calgary and living on different points on the globe, meeting and yapping about living the elegant life via the information superhighway that is the world wide web.

Amazing.

We chatted about applying feminine energy to our creative jobs.

What is feminine energy?

Slow, flow, intuitive, in tune with your body, open to receive messages, nourishing yourself and others, soft and playful, remaining open to hear bits and pieces of life to pull in and swirl around your mind. It is not about being rigid. Not about push, push, push. Not the 9-5. Which kind of explains my loud exodus from corporate life. 

We talked about writing books using feminine energy, but of course we talked about so much more.

Top 14 topics we covered:When to quit your job and live off your creative projects.Why fear of poverty isn’t such a bad thing.How to start writing a book.How to create from a flow state, especially under deadlines.The glorious emotion of relief and why it is important for creative projects.Why most women’s books are written at the kitchen counter.How to land your dream agent and publisher.When to traditionally-publish and when to self-publish.Living with imposter syndrome.How to thrive with a faith-based finance model.What is next on my agenda.How to get noticed on Etsy.The single best thing you can do to start living a creative life.The best part of my job.

Spoiler alert: The best part of my job is to have an idea, have time to follow through on that idea, complete it and put it out there… and blog along the way. FUN!

Check out the video. It’s a whopping 48 minutes long so start it, lace up, and listen to it on a walk. Bring an index card and a pen. You’ll find out why.

For more on book writing, check out my online writing courses.

Janice

PS, Spiritual Retreat from Home could be helpful to you or someone you know who craves a quiet fortress of solitude to work on your stuff… manifesting, healing, and conversations with spirit guides. It’s all in here and it’s available on Amazon.

We create routines for ourselves so we can fit in work, play, errands. We work on our mood underneath our skin.

It is both a stormy sea and a morning meadow.

Tricky business. Life.

Often this depends on the intakes of caffeine, media, sugar, exercise, and how much sleep we got the night before.

For me, from the moment I drop my kid at school, I feel a race coming on. Gotta fit it all in. Go go go go goooooo. It’s more stormy sea than morning meadow.

I sit at my computer until the knot in my back burns. Then I sit for an hour longer.

Because… RACING. 

In recent times, I was working on this fine book, which helps turn a mood from stormy sea to morning meadow. It is now available to buy on Amazon. Fun!

At other times during my daily creative process, I’m slogging through a bunch of half baked ideas until I come up with a winner like Spiritual Retreat from Home. I’m currently running through a few projects and I wonder if it will all work out. You’d think Miss Best Seller Yadda Yadda would make hit after hit, but it is more stormy seas around here than morning meadows most of the time.

So I race to get as much done as humanly possible. Then I put on the kettle, set my alarm, and nap. Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I don’t. Alarm goes off. I hop out of bed, make a tea and race out the door to fetch this shy hand model:

On the way, I stop by the mailbox so I can read my mail and drink my tea in the parking lot of the school.

It’s the little things.

And that’s where Tom Hanks comes in.

A few typewriter letters ago, I sent a letter to Harley about a weird prom night in Barstow. If you’ve ever been to Barstow, chances are you had a weird night as well. Barstow can’t help itself. It’s weird. It was one of the better letters. Harley sent the letter to his pal Tom who replied back with this:

Obviously needs a new ribbon, but the important bit is this:

“Janice must write with her eyes. I saw what she saw in Barstow.”

Thrilled. Then Harley sent Tom’s note to me because typewriter people love sending letters in the mail so it takes longer and is therefore more delicious upon arrival.

Tea sipping, kid arriving, thrill seeping through my veins. MORNING MEADOW MOOD.

Strapped ourselves back into the car, drove out of the parking lot and at the light I was back to STORMY SEAS.

Two minutes of Tom Hanks thrill, and then I’m back to the baseline that has been stormy seas. It’s hard to feel the fun feelings. A mix of lockdown, war, germs, endurance. All of it.

So I made myself go to an antique show featuring a typewriter exhibit. Some of us love nerding out on typewriters. LOVE LOVE LOVE. Met this guy:

Martin Howard was featured in the documentary California Typewriters. He collects the very VERY old typewriters. He had a table of excellent machines. People were buzzing around clicking away. Children seemed most taken with the typewriters. One older woman sat down and typed at lightning speed. “I used to type 100 words a minute!” she said. Impressed. She used all the fingers correctly.

On a computer keyboard I can type fast, but on a typewriter…. ohhhhhhhh soooo sloooooowwwww. Two fingers. Loads of typos. Typing is FUN and AN EVENT on a typewriter. On a computer keyboard, it’s just work.

Meeting Martin Howard got me back in the MORNING MEADOWS MOOD for a bit of time. Now I’m seeing storms on the horizon again.

As someone who has battled depression in her life, I have made it a practice to pay attention to the shoots and ladders of my moods. It is a big effort to even remember to do fun things. But I’m telling you this now because I think there are a few of you out there in the same situation. I’m in it, too. We are trying to remember how to have fun. Trying to remember TO have fun.

Let me know how it’s going.

Over 500 people voted on the cover for my new book, Spiritual Retreat at Home.

Watch the book reveal here.

Or just keep scrolling.

The votes were enthusiastic, funny and kind. You, dear reader, are very funny. And you care. Big time.

This post had more action than any other post of all time. To recap, here are the covers we voted on:

Some people sent simple messages: A, B or C.

Some people took this opportunity to catch me up on the latest goings on in life. I’m slowly getting back to everyone.

Everyone else had OPINIONS:

“I don’t love any of them”

“A looks like a sympathy card.”

“B is garish.”

“C is perfect – reminds me of flowers floating on water in a pond.”

“My choice “C” is my favorite.  Not a hard decision for me.”

“I love the first one although I do like all of them, perhaps I find the third a bit busy although I do like all the flowers. The first one is serene and reflects the title well.”

“A is best. Simple, uncluttered, calming.”

“My vote is cover A. B is too bright and playful to feel “spiritual retreat” and C is too heavy and busy.”

“My pick is A. The colors are beautiful and peaceful, perfect for a spiritual retreat.”

“Definitely C love the colors and the book stands out.”

“I definitely choose A, as it is pretty and soothing compared to the other two.”

“A or B but definitely not C.”

“I like B because it catches the eye with its striking sun rays pattern.”

“I don’t like the darkness of C.”

“C is the only option.”

“A is beautiful, simple, reminds me of your Paris books.”

“B is too “loud” for me, though it is bright and cheery.”

“C is so pretty, but I’d love it more if the background weren’t black.”

“I love C with the darker background I am really drawn to it.”

“I vote for A because of its quiet simplicity. Isn’t that what we seek in retreat?”

“B doesn’t feel emotional enough and C is too perky and pretty.”

“My vote is for B, then A….”

“C. Then B.”

“A, then C.”

Strong lean toward C.

“I am drawn to  C. Some how the darkness of the black color on the cover and the title of the book made me feel that this book would be a light in the darkness of the world.

“I choose cover C for your book!  I hope everyone else does too.”

“Definitely not B.”

“A will be fine.”

“C has the most pop.”

“I am loving C, it feels like a retreat, a wonderful place to be.”

“B stresses me out.”

“C speaks to me.”

“C makes me feel surrounded by warmth and life.”

“C reminds me of a muumuu I wore in Hawaii.”

“I’m voting for C. It’s mystical and magical.”

“Dislike B quite strongly. Garish and brash.”

“I would purchase book with cover A. BUT. If that cover were to be sold out, and I was desperate to have the book immediately, well then I would purchase the book with cover C if I had to. Otherwise I would probably wait for the second printing of book with cover A.”

“Thumbs down to B”

“If ‘spiritual’ is meant to be introspective, then A.

If ‘spiritual’ is meant to be ka-boom life changing, then BIf ‘spiritual’ is meant to be day-at-the-spa-like, then CYour choice is now clear as mud, right?”Exactly. What to do?

Count up the votes.

The winner is….

 

There it is.

As Carol W put it:

“Option C. Since the title suggests that the spiritual retreat is at home, I think the multiple flowers are the way to go, like a garden that surrounds the home.”

I loved the honesty and hilarity of opinions. Some of you might look at some of the comments as harsh, but I see a beautiful thoughtful team of people who care. Go team go!

It is available on Amazon. A great little workbook to work out the kinks in your soul. (also turns you into a wizard)

Email me your fave at [email protected]

I can’t make decisions easily these days. I’m sure you feel the same. The turmoil. The images on TV. The astounding decisions other people make.

Fury.

Fury at all the decision makers making astounding decisions. How did it get to this point? 

I don’t even want to take my kid to the grocery store because it’s a pain.

Then I see people carrying kids and heavy bags across a country, crying with bandages on their heads. Home gone, job gone, all the things left behind. Including spouses.

The luxury of crying in front of the TV.

How lucky we are to get to break down in our warm houses full of food and water and clean things.

Look at us, lucky ducks.

It’s hard to complete tasks these days. We get muddled. Grief makes us silent. The words get stuck in our throats.

I’ve been feeling the need for a spiritual reset. So I’ve been creating guided journals and designing book covers. Pictures seem to come more easily these days, but decisions don’t. Please choose a cover for me. See above. Email me at [email protected] or reply to this message depending on how you are my latest “malaisy” prose. The Spiritual Retreat at Home guided workbook will come out soon. Just waiting on you to choose a cover. Join my mailing list to get details on the release date. 

Speaking of my mailing list, at some point in the last few months, the subscription button on my blog stopped working. Great. Another thing to get ruffled about, but instead of spending the day trying to fix it, I just created another route. Voila. Done. Well enough.

They say, be the change. 

I don’t know about that. Sure feels hard to change big things. But most of us are not able to hop on a plane and hand out soup at the Polish border either. So we sit and do what we are meant to do.

The world is a big bummer these days.

Recently, CBC wrote an article about optimism vs pessimism during the pandemic.

They interviewed ME as the optimist. HA! Oh three weeks ago when we were seeing glimmers of hope on the horizon. The good ol’ days. Not that I feel much like an optimist these days. I’m sure you can relate.

But I planted a few seeds and set the trays in the windowsills. This morning my daughter filled a water bottle and watered them. She didn’t ask permission or how. She just decided it would be a good idea and found what worked. She also suggested we plant a lot of sunflowers this summer.

Humanity. The brilliance of humanity.

Let it win. 

You may also like - Don’t be like the rest of them, dear Rain on Parade Capture the Color Love, Paris style Black and white and cream all over Strengthening the Fearless Muscle Gare de Lyon Lent OR New Year’s Resolution Part 2 Rome Street Life Rome: Before and After in the Eternal City The ways 2020 has changed us, plus a book writing ecourse

I’m basically in the creative game just to solve my own problems.

You may recall one of my previous posts when I showed you my art journal pages created with a blank 2020 daily planner. Because no plans, amiright?

Exhibit A:

I call this “Christophe and I out for a stroll.”

Alternate title: “Never bad weather, just bad gear.”

As I pondered my blank 2020 journal AND my blank 2021 journal (remember 2021? I don’t.), I thought there MUST be a better way.

And that, my friends, is where I whipped up a glorious undated planner for today, tomorrow, next year, whenevs…

Because of this…

And this…

So I can use it as a planner when I have a lot going on, obviously. But the real magic is using it for ulterior motives.

Bwahahahahahaaaaa.

As in trying to take over the world. Like a queen.

(By the way, I waltzed into a flower shop and declared I would like her Majesty’s head on a platter. They rang me up and popped a violet in it for jewels. Also genius.)

I’ve been using the planner as a kind of habit tracker. One calendar spread is for tracking how many walks I go on. I write down the thoughts from each walk in the week area. So often we forget our excellent thoughts that come up on walks. NO MORE. Not with this gorgeous walking tracker!

I have another calendar for tracking a tiresome No Sugar expedition I’m partaking in as of late. I’m trying to beat my score from last month.

There are 12 calendars and 52 weeks, which means 12 goals to track.

Trackers gonna track, amiright? 

(Merriam-Webster added “amiright” to the dictionary in 2021 so I’m just trying to keep up with the times. I might even track my usage in my new planner.)

I’m so psyched about my undated planner that it honestly feels like January 1st.

Back when we had hope. Also back when we had covid.

I might even take on a series of 21-day challenges. Or use one section as a travel planner for if/when we ever go anywhere.

Why didn’t I think of this before?!?!?!

If you would like to rule your world like Queenie and me, get yourself a copy. Fun!