You know how we place items at the top or bottom of a staircase, intending to take them on our next trip upstairs or downstairs? A few weeks ago, I did just that with a plastic container—no lid but sturdy enough, waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I hadn’t decided what to do with it yet, so there it sat, waiting for someone to carry it up.

Then one day, while playing with my 2-year-old granddaughter Zoe in the basement, we started heading upstairs. There was the container, still on the bottom step. Without a word, Zoe, unprompted, grabbed the slightly heavy, awkward container and lugged it upstairs. With a huff, she placed it on the top step and marched into the kitchen. I was both impressed and confused. I thanked her, and over the next few days, this moment became a story I shared with friends—and the inspiration for this post.

I’ll ask you: do you consider yourself open-minded? Are you open-minded on some topics or areas of your life, or the world, but not so much in others?

What makes us open or closed-minded? Is it who our friends are, what we read, where we grew up, where we live, the TV shows we watch? And let’s not forget our spouses—they, too, have an influence on what we think. These are all factors that shape us, often without us even realizing it. My belief is that if we want to be open-minded, we have to actively seek out differing opinions and diverse life experiences to help us grow.

Perhaps it’s the recent loss of our little dog or the health challenges we’ve faced with our middle dog that got me thinking about funerals. 

Let me start by saying that this post, like all my writings, is about my personal reflections, experiences, and ponderings. It’s not meant to judge others—just to share what I’ve found inside myself.

The first loss I experienced was my paternal grandfather. When my grandparents visited, they’d bring Dunkin' Donuts, and my grandfather would often fall asleep on the couch.

When I hear the word "austerity," I immediately think of the government tightening its belts or corporations being more frugal with their spending. It may sound harsh or extreme, but as I have discovered, austerity can also be fun and even magical.

Webster’s dictionary defines austerity as “sternness or severity of manner or attitude.”

Do you ever find yourself acting, dressing, or being different depending on who you're with or where you are? I can raise my hand as being that person for most of my life. About 20 years ago, I realized I was doing this in many places, but a striking example was when I was on vacation.

Weeks before a trip, I would start packing all my favorite or best clothes and shoes—possibly items I only wore on special occasions. I wanted to feel and dress like the best version of myself on the trip. Something else I became aware of was the things I would buy while I was on vacation.

In mid-June, a friend/coach of mine mentioned that she was participating in a 20-day cacao experience. It touts, “Could drinking chocolate every day change your life? Join us in this 20-day experience to find out how Ceremonial Cacao and the spirit it carries can open your heart and allow you to have a deeper connection with yourself and your life.” Honestly, I was not looking for a cacao experience, but I was curious. I signed up without hesitation and without doing any research. This is not how I usually make decisions. Typically, I ask myself how I feel about something and go with the response, I feel a “hell yes” or a “hell no.” This time, it was not a yes or a no, I just decided to jump in.

Growing up, I never felt like I fit in anywhere. The people around me knew what they wanted to be when they grew up; they had skills like math or science, things they were good at, music, art, theater. My high school class produced an epic comedian and a Rhodes scholar, for heaven’s sake. When I sat and tried to feel into or imagine what I wanted to do or be, there was nothing. Nothing I was good at, I was a great basketball player, but I was not going to go pro.

Yesterday, we put down Cosmo, our 15+ year old Bichon Frise, whom we called Cozie or “little dog.”

My daughter’s father gave Toria Cosmo when she was about 11 years old. Her father and I were divorced, so the plan was for Cozie to go back and forth between our homes with Toria. Everything seemed fine until, within weeks of bringing home this itty bitty puppy, my ex-husband’s black lab and he were left home alone. Best anyone could figure, the lab bit Cozie’s head, and we later found out that his jaw was broken.

Daily I am a wife, a friend, and a neighbor. One to two days of the week, I am a mother and a grandmother. A couple of times a year, I am a sister and a daughter to my mother.

Once a year, I get to be my father’s daughter.

This weekend, my father came to stay with us for two nights, something that has happened once a year for the past 7 or 8 years, barring those COVID years. I really do not like the fact that we measure so many things by COVID. But I digress.

My parents divorced when I was 18 years old. My mother moved out, and we lived with my dad. Let’s go back further than that. Growing up, I strived to please my dad and make him proud, seeking his approval in the things that I did — playing basketball, and running track — although I never seemed to be quite good enough.

f you have a sibling, I am sure that you have asked your parents who their favorite was, and who they loved more. Parents always answered, "You are both my favorite, and I love you the same." Even though this, too, was my parents’ answer, I was always more like my dad and my sister like my mom. Whether he would admit it or not, I was my father’s favorite. At the same time, although he denies it to this day, I am pretty sure my dad wished I had been a boy.

We have all had those moments, those experiences or seen something happen in front of us where we were faced with the choice of doing nothing and looking the other way or stepping in and facing the possible consequences. Thinking back in my life I have had more than my share of those opportunities. Look away, don’t step in when someone needs help. I have never been able to be that person. Even when friends, significant others, etc. have said, “Don’t get involved” or “Someone else can take care of that” or the worst for me loved ones who say “You have to keep your priorities straight.” Really??

Lately I have been thinking about how curious I am, and I started to think back to when I was younger and noticed, this is nothing new, I have always been very curious. These days my curiosity shows up in how I look at people, are they in a good mood or a bad mood. If a neighbor’s car is gone for a few days, if their work schedule has changed and their car is gone at a different time or the outside lights are on a different schedule, I notice.

In the last speech I gave for Toastmasters I shared about a visit from “Old Lisa.” The reactive, impatient version of Lisa, who I used to be. One of the pieces of feedback I received on my speech was that I should share 3 or so of the tools that helped me become a better version of me.

As I was writing the last speech, I considered that, and the fact that the tools became their own 6 minute speech/blog post is perhaps why I did not cover them in my last speech/blog.

These days I am even keeled, easy to get along with and patient. I have worked hard to cultivate a better version of myself. This is not who I have always been. As you may know I was born in NJ and lived most of my life in CT, so if I told you that once upon a time, I had an East Coast Attitude you probably would not be surprised?

When I googled “East Coast Attitude” 

Someday, I am going to write a book, and the title may be “Everything I needed to know about life I learned in the car business,” or it may be the title above that ChatGPT supplied!

My life until taking over the car business was filled with personal growth and emotional learning, sort of life’s way of preparing me for what was to come. The first several years there were so many things to learn and understand that I was exhausted at the end of most days. As fast as I was implementing my knowledge and learning how to handle the challenges of buy here pay here, it threw brand new situations at me.

Last weekend my friend who typically sports red and black clothing showed up to our meeting clad in a tan and beige cheetah print shirt, tan pants and a tan, fur trimmed cloak. To top it all off this woman who prides herself on her trendy glasses was wearing the ever-classic Aviator sunglasses. None of this seemed noteworthy until she asked, “do you subscribe to the school of thought that imitation is the greatest form of flattery?”

If you know me, a few years ago I went to wearing mostly tan or beige tops, jackets, sweaters, and Aviators are my absolute signature look!!

Ever since I began working in an office, I have maintained an organizational system, whether it was paper or electronic. The first was the “OG” the Filofax, at some point I transitioned to the 3x5 card method, where I had the cards clipped to my belt and with me all the time, just in case I needed to whip one out and jot down a thought or task. Then came the electronic Franklin Planner. The trickiest thing with that one was that you could not expose it to anything with a magnetic field, or POOF, all your data was gone. Later on, came the Palm Pilot, the Handspring Visor – I loved them all.

The Sister Wound—yes, it warrants capital letters, and I bet that 50% of you know what this means and may even resonate with the concept, while the other 50% have no idea what I mean, and it does not resonate at all. This is because while we are all similar, the experiences we are having in this lifetime are each very different.

To help, let’s start with a quick definition from The Medium Website: “…the sister wound is the pain, distrust, or dis-ease that many women feel when relating to other women. Jealousy, insecurity, cattiness, comparison, fear—these are all ways that the sister wound manifests itself in relationships with other women. Instead of viewing the other woman as a sister, we see her as an enemy, competition, or source of harm.” 

Typically, when someone gives you a gift, it is because they think you would like or appreciate it. They have given it some thought. The same is true of a compliment; you should not react in a way that tells them you cannot accept it or that they are silly for giving it to you. Yet this is what so many of us do, and honestly, what I did for many years.

In writing this, I was completely unable to get Google to give me a list of the top things that people give compliments on.

These are the top two I receive:

•                    I love your hair.

•                    You look so nice today.

The ones I give most frequently are:

•                    You are so pretty.

•                    I love your outfit.

•                    Your butt looks great.

When my parents separated, I was about 16 years old. Later, my dad would marry someone who had not been married before or had children and preferred to pretend that my sister and I did not exist. We were no longer welcome in our own home.

For many years after leaving home, every time something happened in my life that made me sad, it became my parents’ fault. If they had not gotten divorced, I would not have to be living on my own, paying my own rent, dealing with life’s inconveniences. If my parents were still together, I would have the safety and comfort of their home to go to when one of my friends blew me off, not sitting in my lonely apartment. So much anger and so many tears filled these years where I felt I was the victim of my circumstances.

When it comes to trying new things or embracing new ideas, historically, I have been “last to the party.”

We were on a family road trip when my dad pulled into Wendy’s for the first time; I was not eating square hamburgers.

When the self-adhesive stamp was introduced in 1989, I was aghast. I thought it was just wasteful; the backing was going in the trash, and the change was being made just to make things easier for people. Little did I know the change was made to reduce the fraudulent removal and reuse of paper stamps. In 2002, all stamps went to self-adhesive, and I had no choice but to comply.