Making Life's Journey One Strategic Step at a Time -

Making Life's Journey One Strategic Step at a Time -

The Strategic Chicken

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Life Without Horses?
Jean MacDougall-Tattan Jean MacDougall-Tattan

Life Without Horses?

When this little pillow was given to me, I was in the thick of it with horses. I wouldn’t trade those years for anything. Life was good. Tough day at work? Go home, tack up, and go for a relaxing jaunt in the woods. Nothing was more peaceful or fulfilling. But is it practical at this time in life to get another?

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Do You get Along With Mom?
Jean MacDougall-Tattan Jean MacDougall-Tattan

Do You get Along With Mom?

Mother and daughter relationships can be tricky. Did you have a good relationship with your mother when you were young? How about as an adult? While talking with a good friend recently, she confided that when she sees social media posts such as, “Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom. You were my best friend and I miss you every day,” it’s hard for her because she never had that kind of relationship with her mother. Neither did I, so posts like that leave me feeling a bit cheated.

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Does Retirement Scare You?
Jean MacDougall-Tattan Jean MacDougall-Tattan

Does Retirement Scare You?

When you think about retiring does it provoke anxiety or make you happy? What does it mean to you? Some see it as the ultimate reward for a lifetime of hard work. No more business obligations. No more bosses telling you what to do. No more asking permission for time off. No more feeling torn between work commitments and the needs of your family. Retirement feels like freedom. But the practical side of the brain might have a different opinion. No more paychecks. No more overtime. Will you be able to make it on a fixed income? Will there be enough for extras, like vacations? What if? What if? What if?

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An Overdue Honor for Dad Just in Time for Christmas
Jean MacDougall-Tattan Jean MacDougall-Tattan

An Overdue Honor for Dad Just in Time for Christmas

In 1964, when I was just eight years old, my uncle Tim passed away. He was a carpenter and roofer, and an avid hunter, fisherman, and farmer. We spent many days at his farm, and I liked helping him so much that he made me a pint-sized green wooden wheelbarrow and spray-painted my name in cursive on the sides — in gold. How I loved his garden, which was where he would mostly be when our family arrived. Sometimes, he waited for me in the rhubarb patch with a bowl of sugar. With his knife, he’d cut off some stalks, and then we’d dip them in the sugar and eat while sitting in the sun, talking. I adored that man.

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