This is the third year we’ve rented the house with them, and we still remain friends despite hard fought battles of dominoes, Yahtzee, rummy and other card games, and the efforts of my son, C and G the younger to drive each other insane. The wives (P and myself) spend as much time possible reading on the screened porch, and the husbands devote much of their time to keeping the boys from killing themselves and each other. (Who has the more relaxing vacation, do you think?)


We haul up inflatables and fishing gear for the kids to play with in addition to the slide on the lake house dock. I don’t know what he was thinking, but this year, my husband purchased a used jet ski for the boys’ (well-supervised) use. As is the manner of jet skis, this one promptly proved to be a lemon. Four days and $200 later, we towed it to Georgia, where it continued its stubborn habit of breaking down, until the dads rigged it for action with duct tape. It became affectionately known as the Clampett Mobile.



I hope they’ll remember the hours spent with family and friends—sharing meals, playing games, watching movies, swimming, fishing and jet skiing. I hope they remember how hard the dads worked to keep the jet ski running and filled with gas, and the round of golf the teenagers and their dads shared (my son got his first birdie!). I suspect the mishaps will be remembered as well or better than the uneventful hours spent flinging themselves off the dock into the water. For example, one night while we were playing games (adults: cards; teens: Xbox), G looked out the window and noted that the inflatable Cube was gone from the dock. My son and C took that as a combat challenge, had their bathing suits on and tore down to the water before you could say, “Hey, it’s raining,” which it was. They retrieved the errant Cube and returned wet but covered in glory.

We have a new arrival at our barn:

• There is time enough.
• Live joyfully.
• Be Kathy.
• Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.
• Pause before you say no.
• It is what it is.
• Rise to the occasion.
• I am enough.
• Slow down—faster isn’t better.
• Progress, not perfection.
• Help is everywhere.
• What would I do if I wasn’t scared?

…and I began to think about how I was and wasn’t putting “open” into practice, and what I’ve come to see it has been teaching me to do:

Open my eyes. Actually see what’s around me. Notice the details of life. Taking the Artful Journaling class helps, because to draw or paint something, you have to learn to see it.

Open my ears. Hear the frogs in the pond behind our house (it’s hard not to when they really get going). Hear the birds singing. Hear what my husband and son are really saying. Even hear what my own heart and intuition have to say.

Open my mind. My default answer is no. I can tell you all the reasons why whatever you’re suggesting isn’t a good idea, or can’t be done, or why I don’t want to do it. “Open” makes me bite my tongue. I may be thinking no, but maybe if I don’t say it right away some new thought or idea will sneak in. If it takes up residence, well, maybe my mind will open up just a little more.

Open my heart. When I pay attention—see and hear—I am touched by others. I can give the kind word, the money, the time or the good thoughts. If I’m not open, I don’t even know those things are needed.

I’ve begun to see that even when I’m not thinking about it, “open” is working on me subconsciously. I recognize how tightly wound I’ve been, how rigid and closed my ideas of what I should do with my time, how I should run my household, how things “should be.” I think I’m afraid that if I let even an inch of control slip from my hands, my carefully constructed life will fall apart—I’ll fall apart.

“Open” is about much more than trying new things. It’s a philosophy of life. I have quite a ways to go before it’s my philosophy, but at least I’ve opened the door a crack.

If you’ve chosen a word of the year, how is it going for you? What have you learned? What has surprised you?

I’ve wanted to learn how to do illustrated journaling for several years, after seeing an acquaintance’s gorgeous journal while on a trip to Greece. I’ve drooled over books about creating illustrated journals by Hannah Hinchman and Clare Walker Leslie and started sketching off and on. Since I love the look of watercolor, I wanted to incorporate it into my journal, but the first time I tried it (with the help of a library book), I realized I needed a real class with a teacher I could ask questions of. Laure’s current class is the best so far for what I actually want to do: add sketching and painting to my journal when I travel, as well as work on a nature journal here at home. Each lesson helps us build what Laure calls a “visual vocabulary,” techniques and skills for creating different effects, page design and so on. Assignments have included making a color chart (surprisingly soothing and fun), creating a set of borders, using a “placement map,” and making word art (one of the assignments I haven’t done yet).

Here are three of my pages (the color isn't quite right because I have to take a photo of the art instead of scanning it):


Summer’s more relaxed schedule is a good time for exploring new hobbies and experiences. For me, illustrated journaling is both a simple pleasure and an everyday adventure. It’s fun—and it stretches me just a little outside my comfort zone while helping me move towards one of my goals.

What about you? What kind of simple pleasures and everyday adventures are you taking part in this summer? Do share!