What Would Blueberry Do?

I don’t think it’s surprising—or even all that unique—that after the hospital drama of the last several months, I’ve started rethinking parts of my life. There’s something interesting about being unable to do things that suddenly makes you want to do everything.

I made a list. A ridiculously long list. Things I want to do, places I want to eat, habits I want to change, experiences I want to have. And I made myself a promise—not to the universe this time, but to myself—that I would genuinely try.

I know myself well enough to know some things won’t matter later. But I also didn’t want to let the list become one of those “someday” ideas that never happens. I craved a little change.

I reread the lists regularly and pick one or two things to tackle.

Last Friday, I crossed one off: visit a new restaurant on my bucket list. France, Blueberry, and I went to breakfast at Totem Diner in Everett. But that’s not actually what I want to talk about.

I want to talk about the shortest item on my list.

Let’s talk Blueberry.  This girl amazes me. She’s always moving. Always doing something in her house, around her house, for someone else. She doesn’t let things sit. Dishes? Done immediately. Amazon boxes? Broken down immediately. Notice something needs to be cleaned or organized? She just… does it. Part of that is physical—she needs to keep moving. Part of it is just who she is.

Meanwhile, my personality has always leaned more toward it can wait. Dishes can wait. Laundry can wait. Dusting can definitely wait.

And honestly? Usually it works out. Until it doesn’t.

An emergency trip to the hospital meant my house wasn’t what my mom used to call “company ready.” Now, Blueberry would immediately argue she’s not company and she knows exactly how I live. So, when she came to clean my house while I was in the hospital, she knew what she was walking into.

I was mortified.

That feeling stuck with me.

So, one of the items on my list became this: whenever that it can wait mindset starts creeping in, ask myself—

What would Blueberry do?

If the answer is she’d get up and do the dishes… then I get up and do the dishes.

I’ve been trying this for about a week now. I have absolutely no illusion this suddenly becomes my permanent personality, but I wanted to see what happened And honestly? A few things changed.

First—my kitchen is clean every day. It turns out cooking is way easier when you don’t have to clean before you can even start. Or unload the dishwasher first. My mom was the kind of person who couldn’t leave dishes in the sink overnight. I used to think she was a little dramatic about it. Now I kind of get it.

Coming downstairs to a clean kitchen feels good. Weirdly peaceful. Weirdly… adult. Will I slip? Absolutely. But this feels like a habit worth keeping.

The second thing I tackled was laundry. I hate laundry. I mean, does any one love laundry?

Because I can get away with it, I’ll often go three weeks without doing any—and then suddenly I’m staring down Mount Laundry. So, I made a new rule: one load a week. Doesn’t matter if it’s sheets, towels, or clothes. Just one load.

And you know what happened? I stayed caught up. One load feels manageable.

Now… does that one load sometimes remain in the dryer because apparently the dryer doubles as my second closet? Yes. We’re not solving every problem at once.

But yesterday I had three loads to do—sheets, towels, clothes. I did them all.

The sheets are still in the dryer (again… progress, not perfection), but I folded the clothes and put them away immediately. That is not normal behavior for me.

This probably sounds obvious to some people. Easy, even. For me, these are real shifts. I want to get to the place where doing things isn’t a debate or a thought process—it’s just action. Blueberry would do it immediately.

What I keep front and center was that this isn’t really about cleaning. It’s about momentum, priorities, and changing habits after having my routine interrupted.

So, for now, that’s the question I’m carrying around: What would Blueberry do?

 

Holding Onto Mom This Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day changes when your mom is gone. You still have to witness all the signs that Mother’s Day is coming; the brunch ads still pop up, and social media fills with smiling photos and heartfelt tributes. The world keeps celebrating while my heart quietly aches for the one person I wish I could call and wish a Happy Mother’s Day to.

Me and Mom - Mother's Day 2001

Grief has a strange way of showing up on holidays. Some years it’s loud and heavy, impossible to ignore. Other years it sneaks in softly — seeing a photo of her and me, in the recipe card written in her handwriting, or in the sudden urge to pick up the phone before remembering I can’t.

Mother’s Day isn’t about the gifts and reservations and finding the perfect card. It’s really about love that lasts long after someone is gone.

Mother's Day 2016

Losing a mom leaves an emptiness that never fully closes. Moms are often the keepers of traditions, the first person you call with good news, the voice that somehow makes everything feel okay. When they pass, you don’t just lose a parent. You lose a piece of your history, your comfort, and sometimes even your sense of home.

But grief also has a beautiful side to it. It reminds us how deeply we were loved.

1986

This Mother’s Day, instead of focusing only on the loss, I’m trying to focus on the pieces of her that still remain – and as I age I see more and more of her in me. The habits I picked up from her. The recipes I still cook. The phrases I hear myself saying that sound exactly like her (which admittedly frightens me and makes me laugh out loud). The lessons she taught me without even realizing it.

Love doesn’t disappear when someone dies. It changes shape.

Maybe this year Mother’s Day I’ll look at it differently. Maybe it’s lighting I’ll light a candle instead of buying flowers. Maybe it’s cooking her favorite meal, wearing her necklace, looking through old photos, or simply allowing myself to miss her without apology.

And maybe that’s enough.

For anyone spending Mother’s Day missing their mom — I see you. It’s okay to feel sad while everyone else is celebrating. It’s okay to laugh at old memories and cry five minutes later. Grief and love walk hand in hand.

The truth is, a mother’s love doesn’t end when her life does. It stays tucked into everyday moments, quietly shaping who we are long after she’s gone.

Spain, 1986
This was the photo I realized I looked just like her.

Rediscovering Myself, One Yes at a Time

There’s a version of me I’ve been missing for a long time.

The Jenn from before Covid was always going somewhere, doing something, saying yes to plans without hesitation. Then somewhere along the way, that girl slowly disappeared. These past five or six years, I’ve become a full-fledged homebody. I still go out occasionally, but it almost always feels like work.

I love my home. I work from home. My cat is here. All my favorite things are here. My routines are here. Home became safe and comfortable and easy. Leaving it started to feel exhausting.

I say yes to plans when people invited me somewhere. Lunch? Sure. Shopping? Sounds fun. A road trip? Absolutely.

Then as the day got closer, the internal negotiations would begin.

Could I get out of it?
Would they believe I was sick?
Could I come up with an excuse that didn’t sound ridiculous?

Sometimes anxiety won and I canceled. Most of the time I forced myself to go anyway. And every single time? I had fun. I knew that logically, but somehow it still wasn’t enough motivation to get me out the door.

But something has changed within me (where are my Wicked fans?).

I spent a lot of time thinking during my two hospital stays over the last six months. Hospital rooms have a way of forcing reflection on you. I started asking myself why I’d become so withdrawn. Was it laziness? Anxiety? Comfort? Exhaustion? Had I simply convinced myself staying home was easier than living? I didn’t really land on one answer. What I did decide was that I want to live differently.

Somewhere between hospital bracelets and too much time alone with my thoughts, I came up with a new mantra:

Say yes more often.

And surprisingly… I think it’s working.

Lately I’ve felt more awake somehow. More open to life. More willing to leave the house without immediately calculating how quickly I can return to it. I’ve even felt something I haven’t felt in years:

Spontaneity.

Today was my standing lunch date with Meg-a-rooni. We had plans for Mexican food and catching up for a couple hours like usual. But before lunch, Megan sent me a TikTok link to a local coffee stand making a Diet Coke Cherry Espresso.

Excuse me? A what now?

She asked if I wanted to go after lunch.

Old Jenn — or maybe “Covid Jenn” — would’ve immediately said, “Nah, I should probably head home.”

But today?

I said yes.

We had the address, but only a vague idea of where this place actually was. Instead of plugging it directly into GPS and making it efficient, we decided to turn it into an adventure. It was sunny, the top was down in Wroamin, and honestly, the day just felt too nice to rush through.

Naturally, Megan thought it was one direction and I thought it was another. We wandered around a bit before finally finding the place, but I’m glad we did.

The drink itself was bizarre in the best possible way. First sip: Diet Coke. Then cherry. Then suddenly espresso sneaks in at the end like, “Oh hey, I live here too.”

I kept drinking it trying to decide if I actually liked it or not. I think I did.

It could’ve been a little sweeter, but I’d absolutely get it again just for how weirdly unique it was.

The drink wasn’t the important part of today. The important part was realizing that I feel like I’m coming back to myself. Like I’ve been asleep for five years and I’m finally starting to wake up.

So this summer, I’m leaning into it. I made a list while I was in the hospital of things I want to do — and yes, a shocking number of them are food-related — and I’m challenging myself to actually do them.

To go.
To experience things.
To say yes more often.

Now nobody needs to know about this new life philosophy of mine, so let’s just keep that between us.