If Every Day Were Sunday…

Our little garden is starting to wind down for the season and I’m already starting to miss it. When we were ankle deep in peas and tomatoes, I didn’t think the end would come quick enough but as we canned the last few pints of salsa on Sunday, it started to sink in. Fall is just steps away and winter is right behind it.

Years ago, those transitions meant little more to me than putting up the appropriate seasonal decor on our front door. My life was basically the same every day, only the weather changed. I got up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, watched TV, went to bed, and repeated it all until Friday night, when I’d go out to eat (like everyone else I knew) and head to the grocery store, Walmart, and wherever else I could spend my paycheck. Why? Because I worked hard and the new fall sweaters (or spring t-shirts) were out and well, I deserved one!

I didn’t become a minimalist overnight, though sometimes it feels like it. Like one day I just woke up and decided the repetitive pattern of my life was not working and I wasn’t going to do it anymore. In reality though, it was more of a process than that. I did wake up one day and decide something needed to change and I remember that day as if it were yesterday.

It was just another Sunday in September of 2011. I was beyond tired from a week of running all over Colorado (some poor life choices at the time meant driving into downtown Denver every day for work after driving Angie half way to Black Hawk to catch a bus to the casino where she worked). I had started a decluttering project but failed to finish it and the apartment was covered in stuff – from bicycles to a bubblegum machine. But football was on and I just wanted to curl up on the couch and veg for the day. So I did. At the end of that day, I took out my journal and wrote one single sentence – if every day were Sunday, I’d be free.

The next day, as I sat in traffic on I-25 once again, those words came back to me. Why couldn’t every day be Sunday? Why did I have to be in this car? Why wasn’t I in control of my time? My life? My choices? On that highway, in the early hours of the morning, I made two decisions – every day would be Sunday if I wanted it to be and we were leaving Colorado.

And we did.

Less than a year later, we were in North Port, Florida, a city we had never even heard of before Googling “best places to live on the Gulf Coast”. The three years that we lived there laid the foundation for everything that was to follow. We learned to live on one income. We learned contentment, the kind that comes from just sitting on the porch watching the birds or making a meal from scratch. We learned to be resourceful. And we learned the meaning of true happiness.

Minimalism alone did not make it possible for me to quit my job last week but it sure helped.

When I look around the room right now, I see Angie sitting on the couch, her favorite blanket across her lap, reading a book. Her cup of coffee is tucked into the fold of the blanket, just to her right. Caesar is on her left. The sun is shining in through the open windows, greeting the new herbs we just planted yesterday in the windowsill. A vegetable soup is simmering on the stove for lunch, while mixed beans slow cook in the crock pot for tomorrow night’s dinner. It is Tuesday, yet it feels like a peaceful and relaxing Sunday.

As I raised my own cup of coffee to take a sip, the realization slowly settled upon me. Almost 8 years to the day that I wrote that single sentence in my journal, we have finally achieved the life I so longed for back then.

Every day is Sunday and I am now free.


If you had asked me in 2011, if I thought I’d be here today, I would have said no. The weight of the world sat on my shoulders then. We were knee deep in years of baggage – both physical and mental – and I couldn’t see a way to wade through. Angie worked 12 hour days at a menial job she hated and we spent our time off with people we had nothing in common with – the kind of “friends” that discourage growth and change. Our relationship was still new but it was tenuous at best. When we sat down that day in September to discuss the direction of our life together, we realized the only way out was to turn around. We need a new path, one that we chose together, and one that was free of the clutter of our past lives. Through persistence, lots of trial and error, and good communication (I can’t stress that one enough), we have come to the place we are today – ready to open a new page, in a new journal, and start a brand new adventure. 

If you are contemplating of your own life-changing adventure, our best advice – just do it. It may take a while to get to where you want to be, but you’ll never regret making the leap.

Let’s Talk Turkey

In just a few days, many of us will sit down to a festive meal with our families. A lot of turkeys will be served, maybe a few hams, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, and possibly an assortment of pies and cakes. Growing up, I remember spending Thanksgiving with my grandparents. My reclusive uncle and aunt would put in an appearance, usually late, and my parents would spend the better part of the day just chatting with them while we played in the den. The day was priceless…phenomenal food, good company, and nowhere to be but there.

After my parents divorced when I was a teenager, I don’t really remember very many specific Thanksgivings and Turkey Days as a young adult were hit or miss for me. Some were spent at my Dad’s house, some at my Mom’s, some at my own house, where my Mom, my Granny, and I would work all day to prepare the meal, and even a few took place at the homes of friends. Back then, Thanksgiving was simply the gateway to Christmas; kind of like a kick-off party for the “real holiday season”. Only in the past few years have I really learned to observe this day for what it is. Of course, only in the past few years have I really learned the importance of gratitude as a daily habit. (Thanks, Minimalism! You did that for me.)

Now, that’s not to say that I’ve spent my whole life being ungrateful. I like to think I’ve done a fairly good job of counting my blessings and taking very little for granted. But in all areas of life, there’s always room for improvement. For us, one of those improvements was in our observation of the 4th Thursday of November. Instead of a day to feast and fantasize about the month ahead, a few years ago we started spending our Thanksgiving just doing simple, quiet, fun things with one another. Why? Because, the most important part of our life, the things we are most thankful for, are just that – the times throughout the year when we spend our day together doing absolutely nothing other than what we want to do at that moment. And so we thought, what better way to show gratitude than to relish in those things that make us most happy.

One year, we made a tiny version of the traditional Thanksgiving meal and ate it while watching football. Another year, we walked the beach and had lunch at Cracker Barrel. And still another year, we ate ham sandwiches and read books on the balcony of our Florida apartment, while watching little alligators sunning in the yard below. In doing this, we not only allowed ourselves time to reflect and enjoy, but we also turned a previously hectic and sometimes stressful holiday into a peaceful celebration that we actually looked forward to each year. Thanksgiving was no longer the opening act for the spectacle we call Christmas. It was a day of gratitude, as it was intended to be.

When we moved to Tennessee, we tried to incorporate my family into our simple celebration and I’ll be honest, it has been a real challenge. Last year, per my Mom’s request, we made a traditional meal and invited everyone to her house. Only my niece and the baby showed up, so we had dinner for 5 and lots of leftovers. Angie watched football, my niece slept in the recliner, my mom reminisced about Thanksgivings past and fussed about how she was “never going to go through all the trouble again” since “no one appreciated it”, and I played in the floor with the baby. I remember thinking that we had somehow missed the point of this day. Here we were, a small family, but a family nonetheless, gathered together but still separate. We were there out of an obligation to celebrate an occasion rather than to celebrate the simple joy of being together. I don’t mean to imply that it was a bad day. It wasn’t. But it just wasn’t the day that it could have been.

This year we are going to try flipping the script. We’re celebrating Thanksgiving at our house. There will be no turkey, no gravy, no cranberry sauce. And no expectations.

Our door is going to be open all day to all members of our family. In fact, the invitation even says, “drop in anytime, stay as long as you like”. We’ll be here all day. There’s no dress code, no requirement to bring a dish. We are serving chicken (probably a pot pie) and a garden salad. The food will be here until it runs out and even then, we can always make a sandwich. Football will be on the TV and a fire in the fireplace. The toy box will be open. The patio has plenty of seating. The well of hot coffee and tea will never go dry.

Simple. Warm. Inviting. Home. That’s Thanksgiving to us.

The holidays are stressful enough as it is so we are hoping to replace that sense of obligation and pressure with the opportunity for others to enjoy a few of life’s simple pleasures –  delicious food, quiet moments, and good company – even if it’s just for the day.

Will this be the start of a new family tradition? Probably not. In all likelihood, it will be remembered as the year we tried to minimize everyone’s Thanksgiving (LOL), but I still have my fingers crossed. As Ghandi so fondly said, “Be the change…” 😊

**As a side note, the turkey pictured above passed away this week. Freckles was 12 years old. She lived a long happy life on Angie’s parent’s farm in Texas. She loved watermelon rinds, pecans, and giving kisses.