A Lemon, a Sunset and the Things We Take for Granted
Episode #61: Show Notes
I began writing this episode a few days before I had planned to release it, and it didn't go out as planned. I actually took a quiet publishing pause because it was necessary for my well being. I want to start here so I can give you some context.
This isn't about procrastination, self-sabotage, perfectionism, or poor time management skills. We're talking about what happens when life piles up, when you take on extra responsibilities, when things don't pan out the way you plan for, and the things you thought you had time for suddenly have no room left.
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If you've been listening for a while, you know I'm always honest with you about where I am. Because I like to model being real without excuses, and not pretending to have a Stepford-wife / Instagram-perfect life. I was going to say these last few days have been difficult, and then I realized this is only day TWO. It already feels like so much longer.
Flying Solo When Your Partner Is Away
My husband is away on a work trip. And unlike earlier in our lives, our household responsibilities look different now. My kids are grown so you'd think it would be simpler, but I'm also older and have less energy. And we have two rambunctious puppies, a flock of chickens, and a muddy swampy yard. Our property is a registered apiary and certified wildlife habitat, so we also feed and support wild birds, squirrels, and other critters.
It's not a ton of work, but the work is usually shared by both of us. And he does most of the animal-related tasks and ALL of the "unfun" stuff at our house. Like crack of dawn animal feeding and dog walks. Like a last potty run for the dogs at bedtime when I'm already in a semi-coma. Like scooting rebel chickens into bed when they stay out in their open pen after dark, so they stay safe and warm. Like planning and cooking meals, even after working all day, because I really HATE cooking.
Now before some of you freak out, I cooked for probably the first 30 years of our marriage, but never enjoyed it. And now that we eat healthier, whole-based foods without chemical junk in them, the "cooking" I used to do with the help of boxed mixes, canned sauces, and pretty much anything from the center of the grocery store isn't even an option anymore. I pitch in by taking care of other tasks within the home, just not cooking.
This week started whether I was ready for it or not.
On day one, we got up at 4am to drive to the airport, except it was really 3am because of the blasted time change. This was the first time we left our puppies alone in the house, and we were stressed out a bit about it. Kali has outgrown her crate, and we didn't get a new one yet, so we ended up leaving both puppies in the bedroom loose, with the door shut and hoped for the best.
They seemed fine when I got home and they didn't destroy anything as far as I could tell. But they're very confused and anxious about why their daddy's not home. They've been sleeping on the bed with me, getting up periodically in the night, looking for him. And between that early morning doggy potty break, the one that's after my bedtime, and being woken up a few times during the night, I'm lacking some significant sleep.
I shifted as much of my to-do list out of this week as I could, because I knew I'd be tired and have less free time. But getting a podcast episode planned, recorded, edited, and published was begging for more time than I could spare. And then I had to deal with the guilty and anxious feelings of, oh no, can I really hold off on this and skip a week? I had a voice in my head like Chicken Little saying the sky is falling!
Does any of this feel familiar to you? Not necessarily the chickens or puppies, but that feeling of carrying just a little more than you budgeted for, and watching your own to-do list become a kind of background noise you can't turn off? I think a lot of us live in that place more often than we say out loud.
Finding Presence in the Smallest Moments
And then, in the middle of all of that, something unexpected happened in my kitchen.
On day one of this alone-with-the-animals week, I had this silly idea that I'd try to cook two new recipes to use up a batch of eggs. Me, who doesn't like to cook. Not sure why I chose THIS week to do it, but I was able to use up 22 eggs in two strata recipes. I had to zest a lemon for one of the recipes, and I don't think I've ever done that before. I had to Google how to do it!
As soon as I started gently grating that lemon, it pulled me in. And everything else froze. I held it up and smelled it. Really, slowly smelled it. That sharp, bright, almost electric smell of fresh lemon zest. And for about thirty seconds, nothing else existed. Not the to-do list. Not the tiredness. Not the puppies chasing each other through the house. Not this episode. Just that lemon. How have I never smelled a lemon before?
It sounds so small. But I savored that moment. I was truly IN that moment. In the NOW as they say. When did you last let something small stop you like that? A smell, a sound, a view, a feeling?
The Art of Savoring Something Beautiful
Later that evening, after I had gone out to put the chickens in for the night, which is its own adventure if you've never wrangled a chicken who has decided she is not ready to go to bed, I stood on the porch for a moment before going back inside.
There was a beautiful pink sunset over my house behind the trees that I couldn't even see from inside. I noticed it, and was about to rush back in to care for the puppies, but I stopped myself. It was freezing, and I had more to do on the other side of that door, but I stood there and allowed myself to drink it in. To marvel at the contrast of the dark trees against the pink sky. To just be still for a few moments and breathe. No puppies, no noise, no tasks. Just me and the sky.
And I let myself have it. I stood there and I just let it be beautiful.
Both of those moments were tiny. A combined total of maybe three minutes out of a very full and exhausting day. But when I went to bed that night and thought about what the best three moments of the day were, those were two of them.
When did you last do something like that? To slow down and really savor something beautiful, just for a moment? To really be present in the NOW?
We're talking about little things: smelling a flower, watching a squirrel eat a nut, feeling a warm mug in your hands, or listening to the music of a soft rain. We talk a lot about mindfulness on this show, and this is a perfect reminder that being in the moment doesn't have to mean meditation. It doesn't have to be planned or scheduled. But it can lift your spirit in just a few minutes!
The Invisible Work Happening All Around You
Now I want to talk about the other thing this week showed me.
My husband does a lot. I know this. I thank him for most of the things he does. We are good about acknowledging each other. But there is a difference between knowing something and actually living inside its absence.
This week I have been doing his morning chores on top of mine, his evening chores on top of mine, and I just kept thinking, he does this every single day. From the outside, when he is here, all this stuff just happens. I don't have to worry about it. The birds are fed. The chickens are in. The dogs are settled. It's just part of the rhythm of our home.
But this week I felt the full weight of that rhythm. And it is not small. When one partner is missing, and one person does the work of two, it makes it crystal clear that, wow, this is a lot.
Even when we love someone and we appreciate them, I think it's too easy for the day-to-day things to fade into the background. Not because we stopped caring. But because when something happens consistently and reliably, we stop registering it. It just becomes the way things are.
Do you have anything like this in your life? A partner, a parent, a friend, a coworker who holds something together that you might not fully see because it has always just been there? Have you thanked them recently?
It might not even be a person. It might be your own body, doing thousands of things a day without you giving it a second thought, until something hurts or stops working and suddenly you cannot think about anything else. Like how my knee injury put a harsh end to forest walks and left me with crutches and then a walker a couple of years ago.
I think there is real value in asking ourselves every once in a while: who, or what, would leave a gap this big? Not because we want to live in fear of losing things, but because noticing it while it is here is a completely different experience.
We Weren’t Designed to Do Life Alone
I believe that we are not meant to do life alone.
I know that sounds obvious. But I think a lot of us have a quiet belief running in the background that we should be able to handle things. That we should be able to be completely independent. That needing help, or needing another person, is somehow a gap in our capability. Like if we were just more organized, or more disciplined, or got up a little earlier, we could cover it all.
I struggled to do the responsibilities of two people at once. We built something together that actually requires both of us. And that is not a weakness. That is just what partnership looks like when it is working.
I think about how much we celebrate independence, especially as women. Doing it yourself, not needing anyone, figuring it out. And there is real value in that. I am not saying go helpless. But I wonder if we have overcorrected a little. If we have made self-sufficiency such a virtue that we feel almost embarrassed when we bump up against our own limits. When we realize we genuinely can't do it all.
I believe we were never designed to carry it all. Whether it's a partner, a close friend, a family member, a community, we do better when we are held, when we share the load.
Are You Letting People Help You?
I encourage you to think about this, and even journal about it. Not just who helps you in life, but who do you actually let help you? Because some of us are really good at helping everyone around us and are genuinely not great at receiving it. We deflect it, or we feel guilty about it, or we say we're fine when we are very much the opposite of fine.
Do you have people in your life who would show up if you let them? Who has maybe even offered, and you said, "No, I'm all set. I've got it, thanks!"?
I've been that person. I've said "I've got it" when I clearly didn't. And this week, I didn't have a choice. There was no one else to pitch in. The puppies needed walking. The chickens needed tending. The episode needed recording. And some of it got done well, some of it got done barely, and some of it just didn't happen.
And my household survived. We are all still here!
There is something almost relieving about a week like this, as exhausting as it has been. Because it strips away the idea that I can do everything, and replaces it with something truer. I do a lot. My husband does a lot. Together we do this whole life. And when it is just me, I feel the shape of that. I feel grateful for it. And I feel a little more willing to ask for help next time, from wherever it is available.
Because you don't have to wait for a crisis before you let people in.
Gratitude as a Lemon, a Sunset and a Shared Life
So what does a lemon, a sunset, and a week of doing everything myself have in common?
I think it is this. Presence, really being here in the small moments, is what keeps us from drifting through our own lives. It is what lets us actually feel the things that are good, even inside a difficult week. And it is what keeps us connected to the people who make our lives possible.
I didn't plan this episode to be about gratitude. But that is what the week handed me, in the most practical and unglamorous way possible. Not gratitude as a concept. Gratitude as a fresh lemon I held up and smelled. Gratitude as two minutes on the porch watching a magnificent sunset. Gratitude as really seeing how much my husband and I not only carry together, but have created together.
Slow Down and Really See Your Life
I have a couple of journal suggestions for you, or if you don't journal, just allow yourself to quietly think about these:
Where in your life are you running on autopilot? Where have good things faded into the background simply because they're always there?
Where are you saying "I've got it" when you really do not? Is there someone you could let in?
Take good care of yourself this week. Notice something small. And if there is someone in your life doing the invisible things, tell them. Have a fabulous week, my friends!
Meet Our Host: Jennifer Robin O’Keefe
Jennifer Robin is always searching for the next thing that might help: the book, the practice, the reframe you didn't know existed but turns out to be exactly what you needed.
Through conversations with experts, authors, and everyday humans, along with personal reflection, Jennifer focuses on bridging the gap between "woo" and practical, accessible self-support. Her work is rooted in the belief that wellness is not about fixing yourself, but about remembering your worth and finding what genuinely works for you.
She has spent decades exploring personal growth, energy healing, and mind-body wellness. She's trained in EFT Tapping and coaching, tools she often references in her conversations. She's not positioning herself as an expert who has it all figured out. She approaches her work with humility, curiosity, and deep respect for individual experience.
Jennifer is a lifelong learner who cherishes books and notebooks. She loves diving into research and sharing what she learns in a way that feels relatable, compassionate, and pressure-free. These conversations are an invitation: to ask your own questions, gather perspectives that resonate, and build a life that actually feels good to you.