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Just An Ordinary Day

This hangs on my office door.  I don't always do it, but it reminds me to try.

This hangs on my office door. I don’t always do it, but it reminds me to try.

I’ve been feeling low this week.  One moment I’m sad, the next mad and then, at times downright pissed off for no particular reason.  I understand all this is part of loss, of grieving and that these waves of feeling this and that come and go.  My logical brain understands this process but my heart just wants it to go away, stop already.

And before you leave, no worries, I’m not going to go into a long-drawn out deep thing about grief, just suffice it to say, it’s no fun, as some of you I’m sure have experienced and encountered.  Those of you who’ve been kind enough to follow know what I’m referring to.  No pity party here but I did promise that I was going to take an adventure every week and this week, this is as good as it got.

This week that didn’t mean driving to a cute little village and though I did go to my second week of Italian class, most of the week was pretty ordinary.  Breathing in and out, going through the motions.

Then, I got to thinking even those mundane, ordinary days can be an adventure or at the very least a “venture,” a comforting, calm one.

I got up yesterday and felt better and thought, I’m okay with ordinary right now.  Better than those phone calls early in the morning normally signaling some dire news or battening down the hatches for some storm (both literally and metaphorically) that can just stop you in your tracks.

Ordinary is a pretty fine adventure indeed.

Really snow, again?

Yesterday was gloomy, cold, rain and some snow spitting around for hours.

Okay, so it didn't stick.  But seriously, enough already with the snow spitting.

Okay, so it didn’t stick. But seriously, enough already with the snow spitting.


I make it a point to go somewhere when this happens, to get out.  Work is slow to the point of none and though I know eventually this will change (it always does) and there’s a reason for this right now, I go to different places to keep my sanity.

This ordinary adventure began at the gym.  Ugh.  This gym is a mixture of gym types (yeah, the kind that flings the F-word, willy nilly, even around pre-teens, that for whatever reason get to work out there) and others who don’t groan and curse and wear jewelry while they work out.   Don’t get me wrong, I fling the same word if I stub my toe or with hubby or friends, just not all the time.  In the gym.  A lot.  That’s another post for another day.

The gym with various machines of torture.  That one on the left there injured my knee.

The gym with various machines of torture. That one on the left there injured my knee.

My view of the treadmill.  Note the slow pace due to the injured knee thing.  This did increase somewhat.

My view of the treadmill. Note the slow pace due to the injured knee thing. This did increase somewhat.

Mass Consumerism Diversion

Afterwards, I drove carefully through the wet streets and stopped by that mother of all home goods store.  You know the one.  I’ve found that if I just walk around enough I’ll usually leave empty-handed.  Alleviating the need to get rid of some crap to make room for new crap that I don’t need.  Enjoy the tour below.

A ball of wood sticks crafted to look beachy.  This would obviously go somewhere where one wouldn't knock it over and/or bump it.  Talk about bad feng shui.

A ball of wood sticks crafted to look beachy. This would obviously go somewhere where one wouldn’t knock it over and bump it. Talk about bad feng shui.

A Dr. Seuss chair that would show up on an episode of Selling New York if it costs a go-zillion dollars for a child's room.

A Dr. Seuss chair that would show up on an episode of Selling New York if it costs a go-zillion dollars for a child’s room.

A sled.  In case of more snow.

A sled. In case of more snow.

I made my way back home.  Home where I could start a fire, love on my pups (children), knowing that pretty soon, hubby would be home.  Such a sweet ordinary day.  I called my loved one who wishes for those days again and comforted her as best as I could.  I think when we suffer a loss, the space that person used to occupy, depletes us for awhile.  Their life force energy is gone and since so much of our energy went into loving them, we are tired, weary, angry and confused.

For awhile until all that lessens.  But enough, I said I wasn’t going to get all deep on you.  I’m just saying, your ordinary day — that’s an adventure, a good, sweet adventure.

And because, I’ve been hearing this song on Target commercials and it’s about celebrating the “ordinary” sweet things in life, listen.  Have a beautiful weekend, everyone.  

Have you had any adventures this week?  Ordinary or otherwise?  Do you think there is an extraordinary in the ordinary?  Share please.

About Brigitte



70 thoughts on “Just An Ordinary Day

  1. A Brig…you are a good one. I’m all teary for our dads.
    I think adventures can be as simple as one of my favorites which is just walking/driving on a street I’ve never been on before.
    much love to you. xo mag

    Posted by Maggie O'C | March 22, 2013, 2:04 pm
    • Maggie, just when you think everything’s okay, you know? Thank you for getting it and your sweet comment/solace. Much love to you back, my dear friend. xxoo

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 2:06 pm
      • Brig, It’s rough there’s no question. And I wish I could give you a timeline but I’m 8 years out in October and I’m crying right now so clearly there isn’t one. I hope your dad visits you, it makes a big difference.

        Posted by Maggie O'C | March 22, 2013, 2:09 pm
      • Thank you, Maggie. Hubby tells me it gets better and doesn’t happen as often. He’s the same as you — some things, even now just make him tear up. I’m sorry you’re crying! Be well, Mags — thank you. xo

        Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 2:16 pm
  2. I mean “Aw Brig” not a A Brig while you are A Brig, that’s just looks stupid.

    Posted by Maggie O'C | March 22, 2013, 2:05 pm
  3. I take much pleasure in the ordinary too. It takes me out of myself. I pretend what if I just woke up from a coma how wonderful would it be to be able to let the dog out? Drink coffee? Have work friends? I get lost in my head and in sorrow a lot…keep going girl! Adventure is where you find it. Italian class??? awesome!!!!

    Posted by isawbobdylaninaspeedo | March 22, 2013, 2:07 pm
    • Hi Judy…there is a solace in the ordinary. You know if you observe life that way — being grateful, it truly makes the seemingly “ordinary” very extraordinary indeed. So nice to see you here and thank you so much.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 2:18 pm
  4. Just the same here – work, gym, cook, clean, etc. Hoping to shake things up a bit this weekend though – get outdoors for a hike – bake for a change, relax a bit, etc. Happy Weekend:)

    Posted by cravesadventure | March 22, 2013, 2:10 pm
  5. Just reading your blog as you commented on mine. Ha! See Brigitte, it’s not an ordinary day at all. We must be aligned in some way. This song is one of my favorites. Hang in there! My father-in-law is dying, living his last days. It’s not an easy thing. I can also take pleasure in the ordinary. Take care.

    Posted by The Bumble Files | March 22, 2013, 2:31 pm
    • Hi Amy, isn’t that strange? In a good way. I know, that song, isn’t it one of the best ever? I’m hanging in there — good days and bad, but that’s life and how we handle it makes all the difference. Thank you and yeah, I’m very grateful for my “ordinary.” You take care too!

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 2:38 pm
  6. I’m sorry you’re having to go through all this, Brig. Grief is really exhausting, so my hat goes off to you for still venturing out into the land of f-word-wielding exercisers.

    Posted by The Waiting | March 22, 2013, 2:34 pm
    • Hey Em, what are you going to do? I write a lot and that does help. I look at the f-word wielders as great characters for a post or short story. They are colorful — yes they are. ;). Thank you, Emily.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 2:39 pm
  7. Always a trick to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. It’s often not until it’s too late or until something bad has happened that we long for the ordinary and realize just how special it was. As always, my thoughts are with you as you face these difficult times.

    Posted by Carrie Rubin | March 22, 2013, 2:49 pm
  8. Nice, honest post. You’re right. We shouldn’t take our ordinary days for granted. That’s what we usually have the most of…so we should make the most of them.

    Posted by char | March 22, 2013, 2:52 pm
  9. Grief isn’t something we can turn on and off like a switch. It will reappear when it wants, without regard for what we want or what we’re doing. And I think winters that hang on provide it with a ripe feeding ground. Hang in there and know that Spring, and good and ordinary days, are coming.

    Posted by jmmcdowell | March 22, 2013, 3:34 pm
  10. Hi Brigitte. I am sad to hear of your sadness. I had a little adventure yesterday. It got quite hot yesterday, unexpectedly. I had to run a morning tea at my children’s school to welcome the new principal, and in the afternoon my daughter had a birthday party/disco to attend way up the valley. I had a two hour gap in the middle of the day so I decided to go down to the river for a swim – by myself. Normally I have children in tow, so it was a treat. It was full and green and beautiful. I swam down the river and sat and sunned myself on a rock ledge watching the leaves float on the surface, a little turtle swim to the bottom and water dragons doing their thing. I practiced the art of observing without thinking and for a little while was part of the river. My work has finished too and I struggle with the knowledge that soon I will be busy and I have this period of grace in which to fill my fuel tanks; and guilt that I can indulge myself in these ways. Aren’t we funny, us humans? xxx be well

    Posted by sara | March 22, 2013, 3:57 pm
    • Hey Sara, I’m okay and thank you. Wow, your adventure sounds absolutely wonderful! What a great little respite you had for yourself. And don’t feel any guilt — it’s a good, loving, nurturing thing to indulge and take care of yourself. And necessary. Thank you, Sara.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 5:12 pm
  11. Yup. We are feeling the same crappy way. I’m sorry that you’re energy is feeling so splintered and that you have to ride that hideous roller coaster of emotion. It’s easy to understand, in times like this, why people turn to drugs and alcohol, right? Anything to escape the heavy feeling. I know you’re missing your dad teribly – it’s the finality of it that is the hardest part. But I know you can converse with him and he’ll hear you. He’s with you. So for now, it’s one sided. 🙂
    I love that song so much. It’s a classic — it was always a staple for me. It hits just the right tone.

    Take care of you, Brig. Just be mellow and chill and go with your energy. No point in resisting whatever it is our hearts are telling us. I’m thinking of you!
    Ciao, Bella!

    Posted by A Gripping Life | March 22, 2013, 4:06 pm
    • It comes and goes, Lisa but I’ll survive. I have so much to be grateful for. I can understand why someone would want to numb themselves, though. I do talk to him — all the time! And yeah, I know he sees and hears me. You take care of you, my friend as I know you’re going through a loss as well. I’m thinking of you too and sending you good thoughts/prayers. Ciao bella!! xo

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 5:22 pm
  12. Mourning a still fresh painful loss when the weather sucks, you’re in-between gigs so you visit a gym populated by f-bomb dropping airheads and then pop into a store packed with crap no one outside of the Cat in the Hat needs takes a toll, Brig. You’re human. You’re entitled to your feelings.

    Posted by lameadventures | March 22, 2013, 4:17 pm
  13. Ah Brigitte, I wish I had a magic wand or could tell you it will be better soon..it takes time to grieve.. 4 yrs later and some days I mss my dad so much it’s a physical pain.. so to combat that like you I breathe, look around at all I have in my life, how blessed I was to have been born to him and that ache lessens ..

    Now about that red chair.. know I’m a bit funky but really?..lol 😉
    here’s to a good weekend for us all!!

    Posted by free penny press | March 22, 2013, 4:57 pm
  14. That first year after a loss is filled with waves – sometimes they relate to a day or activity, sometimes they just happen. Sometimes you wish you could just pack up those feelings and file them, but life doesn’t work that way. I had a friend tell me recently that I was a different person since my father died – I think she was right. It’s good to keep routine and going on an “adventure” sounds like a good way to brush things away for a bit. I could use that sled here in Arkansas – Snow and ice in March – go figure.

    Posted by artsifrtsy | March 22, 2013, 5:52 pm
    • That’s what I keep hearing. And the fact there is no rhyme or reason do. I think those major life things do change us. How can they not? I have to busy myself when I get in those kind of moods. I didn’t know you guys had snow down that way. Don’t know about you, but I’m ready for that snow thing to stop. Thanks, Artsi (and btw is your name Lorrie?) and I hope you have a wonderful weekend. Lemme know if I need to pick that sled up for you. 😉

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 6:09 pm
      • You know – everyone reacts differently to loss. I need to talk, my brother needs to hide – I think you have to honor whatever it is that you need. Work or busyness can be a friend in those times. I think writing helps too. For me it lets me clarify what I’m feeling. I have been working on a memoir project and I find it let’s me reminisce the good things and the bad.

        I’m hoping the next round of snow tomorrow stays north of us – we do get snow in the Ozarks, but not a lot at a time. You have a great weekend too.


        Posted by artsifrtsy | March 22, 2013, 11:03 pm
      • I think you are right, Lorri. I’m also the one that needs to talk and I’ve had the same experience you’ve had — others do not. Being busy works best for me and meditating has helped tremendously as well. And yeah, the writing. I’m journaling again. I hope you don’t have to use any sleds or any other apparatus that means moving snow. ;).

        Posted by Brigitte | March 23, 2013, 10:10 am
  15. Be well Brigitte

    Posted by unfetteredbs | March 22, 2013, 6:12 pm
  16. Brigitte,
    You always help me to appreciate – the ordinary and the extraordinary. Thanks for taking us with you on your day. And know that you’re in my thoughts. It’s good to get out and move – the gym is good and also can be interesting…And that chair – It looks to me like Tim Burton gave it up after filming Alice in Wonderland. Can’t you just see Helena Bonham Carter sitting in that and screaming “Off with her head!”

    I had a fun adventure last night. I went with a friend to a great new venue called Pinot’s Palette. It’s a place where you take a painting lesson – paint a picture and drink wine. It was really fun. I hadn’t had a brush in my hand nor stood in front of a blank canvas in a long time. I actually liked the painting when I was finished! I mean, it wasn’t star quality, but it was decent…And that didn’t matter. What mattered was quality time with my friend and sharing a creative moment.

    Hope you have a great weekend, Brig.

    Posted by Cathy Ulrich | March 22, 2013, 6:50 pm
    • Cathy — what a nice thing to say — thank you. It helps me these days to appreciate the little things. And yeah, that chair — you know it would work on a Tim Burton movie!

      Your adventure sounds great! They had that kind of thing in Charleston and I never took advantage of it, always meant to. Not sure if they have that here. And you’re right, it doesn’t matter if your picture was perfect or not. What matters is the moments, right? Thank you, Cathy for sharing that and have a great weekend. Hugs back.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 7:03 pm
  17. Dearest Brig,
    I didn’t know about your Dad. I can’t even begin to say everything I’m thinking and feeling. I hate that I didn’t know this; not that I could have fixed it, but hearing about it late feels so wrong.
    Please know I will send you love and healing from South Dakota. And keep sharing with us. It’s so nice to read REAL feelings; real stuff.
    Love to you dear friend,

    Posted by Carr Party of Five | March 22, 2013, 7:20 pm
    • Lis, that’s okay. You’ve been out of the blogging thing for awhile so no worries at all. It’s so nice of you to stop in and thanks so much for that love and healing.

      And it’s so nice to have you back again. You’re always full of nice surprises and very wise words, my friend. Love back to you. xoxo

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 8:37 pm
      • Dear Brig,
        As you know, I lost my Dad when I was 8. To say I LOST him, isn’t really true, though.
        There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him and his blue eyes. I’ve dreamt of him when I needed him, and you must remember to ask for that, if that is what you need.
        My dear friend, Steff works with people whose loved ones have transitioned. The folks that have gone on, have the most amazing things to say. They just want us to be happy, and THEY are SO happy. I love reading her stories because it gives me such peace.
        Peace be to you my dear Brig♥
        Love, Lis

        Posted by Carr Party of Five | March 24, 2013, 11:40 am
      • I know what you mean and my Dad has glowing blue eyes, just beautiful blue eyes. He was a very handsome man. I feel him sometimes and hear him inside my head. I don’t think it’s wishful thinking. I think it’s him. This morning I clicked on my iPad and for whatever reason the Photos were on and it was him — a picture of him, the last one I took of him before I left home, when I thought he was going to be okay. Then it flowed into one of me and him. I was trying to pull up a meditation I do and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the volume. It was turned ALL THE WAY DOWN. I didn’t do that. It’s pretty difficult to find that button to turn it down anyway. Tell me that’s the divine something. It is. He was saying hello and he loved me. Thank you, Lis.

        Posted by Brigitte | March 24, 2013, 11:44 am
      • Wow Brig!!!
        As I get older, it takes nothing for me to believe things like that. I’m there.
        And I love that you are awake to it. It seems I have very little time for people these days that AREN’T awake to it, actually.
        Not that I judge them, not at all. Because I was there once, too.
        It’s just that, now, I love surrounding myself with people who are on my path.
        Love it that I’m traveling with you.

        Love, Lis

        Posted by Carr Party of Five | March 24, 2013, 11:49 am
      • Lis, I’m telling you…. I believe it more and more everyday. I try to immerse myself in those kinds of things. The more aware we become, the more we realize just how blessed we are. Have you read the Artist’s Way? It’s enlightening. I love that you’re back — have missed your warmth and goodness. Thank you and love back at you, my friend. xoxoxo

        Posted by Brigitte | March 24, 2013, 11:51 am
      • 🙂
        Well, that is IT.
        That’s the Third time I’ve been told to read that book.
        And I shall.
        To be continued……..♥

        Posted by Carr Party of Five | March 24, 2013, 11:54 am
      • The reason why I finally did is EXACTLY why you’re about to. Over a period of a year three or four people told me I should read this book. There are no accidents. ;). Get ready, it’s work and it’s going to bring up all sorts of stuff. But it’s good . xo

        Posted by Brigitte | March 24, 2013, 12:19 pm
  18. Hang in there Brigitte…Spring always comes…eventually.

    Posted by dianasschwenk | March 22, 2013, 7:31 pm
  19. A hug to you, Brigitte. I had a cry for my Dad last week, out of the blue, 4 1/2 years on. Grief knows no timeline.

    Posted by Deliberately Delicious | March 22, 2013, 7:51 pm
    • Hi Sally, thank you so much. I’ve heard that from many of my friends here. But it’s nice to get such warmth and goodness from you — it helps. Love and solace to you as well when you have your own “moments.”

      Posted by Brigitte | March 22, 2013, 8:38 pm
  20. A tough week for you and me both, Brigitte. But of course, you’re carrying a much heavier load than I could ever imagine so now I kind of feel like I whined a bit too much. In any case, I do think ordinary can be extraordinary, especially after one too many tumultuous rides on the emotional roller coaster. It’s so easy to see ordinary as being boring or even wrong, but it really just depends on our perspective, doesn’t it? Hugs to you and I’m enjoying the song at the end. 🙂

    Posted by lillianccc | March 22, 2013, 11:02 pm
    • You didn’t whine, Lillian. You’re human and your troubles/concerns are as important as anyone else’s! Sometimes it’s really nice to have a calm ordinary day and instead of viewing it as boring, view it as life and it’s moments — as you said, perspective! Hugs back and yeah, that song is a nice one. Thanks, Lillian.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 23, 2013, 10:09 am
  21. Hugs to you Brig. As others have said, grief is a rollercoaster and I am sorry that you’ve hit a low spot. I really admire your attitude and self-awareness though. Ordinary days really are something to be grateful for, and there’s always something to revel in, just standing on this earth.

    Posted by rollergiraffe | March 23, 2013, 1:46 am
    • Hugs back, RG. I bet you’re going through some kind of rollercoaster stuff yourself lately — how is the new job? Good? I hope so. I love the way you put that — “just standing on this earth.” That’s nice. Thank you.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 23, 2013, 10:11 am
  22. Brigitte,
    There’s an Austrian writer called Peter Handke who wrote powerful stories based on the so-called benign events of a day: a walk, waiting at a bus stop, watching a kids’ soccer game, and taking something bigger from it. I remember reading his work as a kid, and thinking these stories were so trivial. Only later on in life did I grasp what he was referring to… There’s great beauty in the every day banalities.
    Le Clown

    Posted by Le Clown | March 23, 2013, 8:53 am
    • Hi Eric, I’ve not heard of this book/author but I intend to check it out. Thank you — it sounds like something I would like! And I agree, there is beauty in the every day “mundane,” we just have to be aware and observe. Have a good weekend, my friend.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 23, 2013, 10:13 am
      • Brigitte,
        He wrote the scenario for the amazing Wim Wenders film, Wings of Desire, too. Not the easiest read, I should warn you. Have a lovely weekend.
        Le Clown

        Posted by Le Clown | March 23, 2013, 10:18 am
  23. Hey Brigitte, I hope that after your ‘ventures,’ you’re feeling better. There’s a lot of richness and loveliness in everyday life.

    I thought the snowy pic of your neighborhood looked beautiful. Boo snow!

    Posted by Smaktakula | March 23, 2013, 3:20 pm
  24. Most days I take a walk with my doggie. We go the very same route every single day. Usually, we see the very same people walking their same route. Even though it’s always the same, it’s my own adventure. I like it that way.

    Posted by Katie | March 23, 2013, 5:13 pm
    • Hi Katie, now that’s one of the best adventures there is. Dogs are intuitive sweet beings — I have two — and besides seeing those things that give you comfort are good for the soul. A fine adventure! Thank you.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 24, 2013, 11:12 am
      • I guess I do like some comfortable adventures. Others are good, too. Just not as comfortable.

        Posted by Katie | March 24, 2013, 12:20 pm
      • I think it’s good to get out of our comfort zones every once in awhile. Makes those comfortable ones all the more precious. Thanks, Katie!

        Posted by Brigitte | March 24, 2013, 12:22 pm
  25. just thanking you for my Sunday post which I based on a quote from you re: ordinary – thanks

    Posted by on thehomefrontandbeyond | March 24, 2013, 10:44 am
  26. I remember days very much like these after losing my mom. (I still find the anger creeping up on me every once in a while.) My husband helped make these “ordinary” days “sweet” – still does. Lovely post. I admire your ability to express your experiences so eloquently, beautifully, and honestly.

    I hope you had an especially sweet weekend.

    Posted by notedinnashville | March 24, 2013, 9:34 pm
    • Hey Anita, isn’t it weird how it just hits you out of nowhere? My hubby does the same for me as he’s been through the same thing. We’re are very lucky that way, huh? What a lovely thing to say to me — thank you so much and thanks for your wonderful comment — and for reading! Hope your weekend was great.

      Posted by Brigitte | March 24, 2013, 9:47 pm
  27. We all have up and down days. 🙂

    Posted by wanda4848 | March 30, 2013, 11:39 am


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