Happy 2018! As the calendar rolls from December 31 to January 1, it’s not unusual to hear the sentiment “out with the old and in with the new.” With the… Read more »
Last week, my Fitbit tells me, was my best week ever, walking-wise. Technically the Fitbit’s only been with me for about a year so “ever” might be a bit strong,… Read more »
I’ve been fretting because I didn’t have a good idea for a post this week. It’s a super busy season at work as I’m trying to finish up everything that… Read more »
Sometimes I wish I could talk to my former self. I’d love to go back to Dawn at age 16 or 26 or 36 and tell her the things I… Read more »
Dana and I have written several posts about the practice of keeping a gratitude diary and on understanding the value of contentment. In 2015, I kept a gratitude diary pretty consistently for a… Read more »
The great irony of writing a blog dedicated to promoting happiness and positive thinking is that we don’t always feel that way. Sometimes life feels gloomy, and sometimes storm clouds… Read more »
A famous quote from Mark Twain says “The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read.” The bookworm and the writer in me love… Read more »
I admit it. I can be really hard on myself. I set lots of goals — sometimes pretty tough goals — and then feel down in the dumps when I… Read more »
It’s Monday. I got up after only one — okay, one and a half snoozes and started my day with some awesome quiet time. My Bible reading included 1 Corinthians… Read more »
I wrote this post this morning on my personal blog, www.dawntolbert.com, and then thought, “Hey, that sounds like a Pink Typewriter post.” Dana texted a few minutes later and said… Read more »
In my head, I’m much more crafty than I am in real life. Not crafty in a sneaky way, but crafty in the language of ribbons and bows and perfectly crocheted or baked or scrapbooked items. This year, I decided to whip up a batch of Cookies in a Jar from a recipe I found on Pinterest, tie the perfect little bow, and then voila, I’d have the perfect gift for my coworkers and friends. It started out well. I got all of my ingredients and even snagged the last set of quart-sized Mason jars from the store. “Wow. This is working out perfectly,” I thought.
I’ve seen on Facebook where many of my friends are already decorating for Christmas. I LOVE Christmas and can hardly wait to put up my trees, but I’m hesitant to fast-forward through November. Nestled between Halloween and Decking the Halls is an important moment to take a deep breath and just be thankful. Here at The Pink Typewriter Project, we are great believers in the importance of gratitude.
I sometimes approach tasks in life like a one-armed plate spinner. I run from this task to that task and just try to keep all of the plates spinning at once hoping they won’t come crashing down around me. Sometimes, though, the tasks pile up in what truly can feel like an avalanche. And the weight of the collective volume can be overwhelming. On those days, I look at a worn fortune, taped on my computer screen, a remnant of a long-ago Chinese meal. It’s small type on the simple white strip reads: No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible.
So, dear Pink Typewriter Friends, maybe you’re wondering where I’ve been. It’s been — gasp — months since I’ve posted anything and a couple of days longer than that since I’ve posted anything that I was happy with. My last real post bared my soul on the not-having-kids front, and to be honest, I’ve needed some time to recover from the vulnerability.
I recently finished reading Marie Kondo’s tiny phenomenon, the New York Times best-seller “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.” If you haven’t read it, it’s worth checking out. She’s a Japanese organizational consultant who gives advice on decluttering. Her theory, in a nutshell, is that unless an object sparks joy, then its time of service is completed and it should be released to its next chapter, whether that’s through selling, donating, recycling, or bidding a final farewell.
Two Sundays ago, I cried through church. I felt horrible about it, and desperately wanted to stop, but I just couldn’t. It seemed like almost the whole service was devoted to celebrating mothers. I guess, since it was Mother’s Day, that is fair enough, but it’s a weird thing when you read Bible stories about people who prayed for — and received — babies and then wonder what you must have done wrong or what is wrong with you that your prayers are unanswered.
It’s April. I don’t know about you, but in my world of work, that means it is The. Busiest. Time. Of. The. Year. Not even the holidays hold a candle to this time of year in a college PR office. There are end-of-the-year awards, winding down projects, last-minute deadlines, and just a bevy of activity as everyone emerges with the budding trees and blooming flowers. Last week, I was super busy, running from this assignment to that one and then to another. (Don’t feel too bad for me; I really do love being part of this environment.)
I like pretty umbrellas. For years, I had one that was white and looked like flowers had rained down on it. My favorite one now has pretty red birds helping to shelter me from the rain. When I shop for a new umbrella, I try to find the cheeriest one out there. Often, my choice leaves my hubby saying “That’s okay. I’ll get wet.” should we find ourselves walking together in the rain. Driving Larry into the rain isn’t my point, but my umbrella choices are on purpose. They’re designed not simply to fight away the rain, but also to fight away the gloominess that descends with it.
Dana and I are big believers in the fact that we become happier as we take the focus off of ourselves and get involved in projects that are close to our heart. An active volunteer, Dana has been busy lately volunteering with Claws for Paws and recently made a connection with an equine rescue group. I’m active in my church and am a member of the Rotary Club of Rome, but lately I’ve felt a pull to get involved in a way to improve educational attainment in the town where I grew up and still live