Sparking Joy and Not Letting Go

I’ve been in a Marie Kondo state since January. In fact, that’s the verb I use…I’m MarieKondoing my house. LOL. True story. Clothes, books (yes the books), kitchen stuff, basement stuff. It’s been going and it needs to still keep going. We’ve only been in this house for six years. How do people end up with so much stuff…I don’t know. But, I am combating it in the present tense as I purge and donate the stuff from the past. As long as I am working the process, I am ok. and just to be clear, my house isn’t messy.
Typically when I leave my home for work it is “Norma Ready.” That means, should my mother feel the need to stop by or come inside when she is helping me with rides for my daughter…she will not feel compelled to do anything. It is already done. Tell me I am not alone in this. I know I am not alone in this. My sisters in life confess the same madness. I will never be one of those people who can sleep with dishes in the sink. There is clutter, but essentially, everything has a home. I like clean counters, clean floors. The person who owned my home before me put bisque colored tile as the kitchen floor. It is my nemesis. But I will save that for a later post.

It’s gotten me thinking, all of this asking “Does it spark joy?” about other areas of my life. Sometimes with the stuff, we can decide rather easily.
Sometimes, with relationships, with memories, not so much.
I am just over the cusp of mid forty.
What “sparks joy?” for real?
If you take a few minutes to sit down with yourself (which, believe me, is hard. I know. I get it…) you may see some blatantly obvious things that don’t have a place in your life. Not anymore.
I think it’s more than ok to say, “This, right here…does not make me happy.” To look that crap right in the face and say, “Yeah, you need to go.”
Regret.
Mistakes.
Apologies you didn’t get.
Approval you didn’t get.
Paths you shouldn’t have gone down.
Paths you should have, and yet you didn’t for some reason.
Toxic relationships. Not limited to people (no I don’t mean my obsession with Rice Krispy Treats…back off).
Just the stuff that weighs us down.

Lately, in conjunction with “Does it spark Joy?” I am asking, “Would I want my kids to think this about themselves/struggle with this?” and that’s where the line is drawn. If I wouldn’t want my babies to mentally struggle with it, I don’t deserve to either. If I wouldn’t want someone or thing in their life that causes them pain, why should I allow it in my own?
Big thoughts. Big actions. Cue the big scary.
Change is HARD. Changing a mindset is HARD. Living a life with joy should not be. So I ask, what sparks your joy?

The reason I am writing…it’s not a big deal in the big picture…but it is, to me.
As I have mentioned, my dad passed away after his battle with cancer almost five years ago. His camera has been in my closet. The newly clean and organized and downsized closet. The camera that was hidden behind stuff. On purpose.
Cliff loved his toys. Whenever my dad got a hobby, he was all in. Fly fishing? Check. Golf? check, Art? Check. Photography? Check.
My dad has lenses and filters and books on photography that I am seriously working through to understand. I’ve been taking pictures since my first real camera three decades ago and I am still trying to understand all of the toys in his camera bag.

While sorting through said camera bag, I found a smaller point and shoot he had stashed in a side pocket and just this morning I looked at the pictures.
Flowers. Flowers. Flowers. My best friend’s wedding. My family. More flowers. Less than 100 pictures between two cameras and I find that my photos, are very very similar to the ones my father took. Mine are closer up and more in your face, but the subject matter…its the same. My family, my flowers, my great loves, including the food I create. I didn’t know. The things that spark my joy, sparked his joy too.
I think, there are things we need to let go. But, there are things we need to cling to with everything we have inside of us. The beautiful parts of this life that literally, cause us to glow inside.
Find those things.
Let the other stuff yell it’s way, tear it’s way, cry it’s way, chunk it’s way, fluff it’s way, or slink it’s way out of your life. Can we dare to live a life like that?

My son is not happy when I take pictures of the everyday life. He’s playing guitar with his best friend. My two kids are on the couch trying to see who can push each other’s legs farther…people laughing at the table. This morning I caught a glimpse of my son and the dog curled up together and if I didn’t restrain myself, it would be digitally captured because stuff like that fills my heart. That’s where I want to live.
I know as I write there is heartache. I know there is sickness and disease and wrong in the world that is undeserved. I know there is sorrow. I think we all own our share. But it shouldn’t define us. It’ll leave scars but it won’t detract from who we are.
Anyway, on this Saturday morning when the sun is reflecting off the snow and I am knee deep in chores I am making time to do two things: Write, and celebrate the thread that I didn’t really know I had with my dad who I miss every single day. My heart is grateful. Ever so grateful.
Sending you love, strength, and joy today. Thank you for coming to the table.
Chrissy





























If for some reason you are not a fan of pie during the holidays, never fear, the world is filled with this fall-ish deliciousness. I have been whipping up pumpkin protein smoothies and muffins, and this spectacular bread made from the Key Ingredient Recipes website. This makes three full loaves or six smaller loaves, should you wish to share.





Except, by the end of the school year this time around, I was weary in my core. This year was tougher for some reason. Across the board. We weathered a few major storms at home. I got sick, like a lot. Our school year had a lot of transitions. I looked out at my gardens this late winter/early spring and thought, “I’m not doing it this summer.”
Because even soul’s get hungry, and one year in, mine needed nutrition.

I’m just going to put it out there, the word “moist” does not have a big following. But in a bread, loaded with freshly picked (I picked mine but hey picking a carton out at the grocery store counts too) blueberries, the zing of lemon, and a superhero ingredient of zucchini, this bread is so good, sweet and tart and yes, moist.
In a world where I can not only be productive and useful, utilizing berries I picked and fresh zucchini from the farm stand, I want a little sweet. A bread with the tart of lemon, the jewel-like blueberries, which visually and taste wise are remarkable, and the ninja like skills of hidden zucchini will get my vote every time.