Nicole M. Miller

How is it the 10th week of 2012 already? Wow. Let that sink in for a minute. Okay, moving on. 56. glimpses of spring 57. mowing the lawn, in the beginning of March 58. beautiful sunrises 59. tackling massive projects at work 60. tackling massive projects outside of work 61. random compliments that keep me going 62. using book club as an excuse to catch up with friends 63. the promise of a writing day 64. my random obsession with sky pictures 65. successful shopping sprees Share a little bit about your week! Have an amazing Thursday and be thankful for all the little gifts in your life.

Successful people get up early. Statistically. So I want to fall into that statistic. Problem: I haven’t quite made it happen yet. Last summer, I did manage to get up at 5:30 a.m. for nearly a month to work out. It was awesome. But I have this problem getting to be early enough, and that habit failed. So I’m going to try again. But what do you do when the habit doesn’t really ever start? Say, “Tomorrow!” and trudge on? Let’s see. Tomorrow.  

Last Friday I delivered a presentation about marketing and building your online presence. It was a hectic day — lots of last-minute requests and running around for various projects. I was also a bit distracted all day, gearing up for the presentation. One businessman, who was there for a vendor fair, stopped me as I walked by and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you have the most beautiful smile. I’m a great-grandpa, so it’s okay for me to say things like that.” Well, I’m sure you can imagine my smile only got bigger. It meant a lot. It helped boost my confidence just a bit more. It...

Despite what my parents thought growing up when I protested doing barn chores — I’ve always found incredible solace in everything from cleaning tack to stripping stalls {for city folk: cleaning every inch of a stall down to the rubber mats}. After one of the most hectic months in my life, Sunday was a true gift. Sixty degrees with the classic Washington state bursts of rain. Raking the barn of moldy hay. Digging out eight inches of built-up poop with a metal pitchfork. Pouring fresh cedar shavings — best smell in the world. Screaming in surprise at the occasional mouse. Putting up a new hay bag {installed with only the...