Tuesday Tools and the Transformative Ten Percent

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at my kitchen table, the sun just starting to dip behind the neighbor's oak trees, casting long, golden shadows across my robin-egg-blue journal. It’s nearly six o'clock, and the house is currently filled with the most wonderful, confusing scent: a mix of sawdust from my shift at Miller’s and the 'Cedar & Sage' candles cooling on the counter. Mark just pulled into the driveway, his truck rumbling with that familiar, comforting sound that tells me my partner is home from another long day of framing and concrete. My heart still gives a little skip when I see him through the window, dusty jeans and all. Nine years, and he still makes me want to be the best version of myself.

Today was one of my scheduled Tuesdays at Miller’s Hardware, and let me tell you, the shop was bustling. Mr. Miller had me inventorying a new shipment of power tools, and there is something so grounding about the smell of a hardware store. It’s honest. It’s productive. Between helping local contractors find the right gauge of wire and counting out drill bits, I found myself thinking about how much of our lives we spend building things we can’t see. We focus so much on the physical structures, but it’s the quiet bookkeeping of our souls—the patience we show a toddler, the mile we run when we’d rather nap—that really holds the roof up.

Speaking of running, I hit a new milestone this morning. I was out the door by 6:15am, just as the Iowa humidity was starting to wake up. I managed three and a half miles today without stopping once. I’m training for that Cedar Falls Harvest 5K in October, and for the first time, I didn't feel like I was just chasing a finish line; I felt like I was inhabiting my own body. There’s a specific kind of self-worth that comes from feeling your muscles work for you rather than against you. I used to look in the mirror and see things I wanted to fix, but lately, I look in the mirror and see a woman who can run three miles and still have energy to chase a four-year-old in velociraptor pajamas.

Noah was particularly energetic this afternoon when I got home from the shop. He’s convinced that Biscuit, our ever-patient golden retriever, is actually a long-lost triceratops. They spent a good hour 'foraging' in the backyard while Joanne watched from her porch. I saw her through the window in her signature pink bathrobe, deadheading her petunias with the precision of a surgeon. She waved at me with her shears, and it reminded me of the importance of tending to what we love. If we don’t pinch off the spent blooms, the plant stops growing. I think our lives are a lot like Joanne’s garden.

On the business side of things, 'Lucy’s Little Light' had a bit of a breakthrough today. I received a bulk order for twelve candles from a local boutique in Waterloo! It’s the largest single order I’ve had since I started my Etsy shop. I spent the hour after work pouring soy wax and carefully centering wicks. Seeing that little 'Sold' notification on my phone gave me such a rush of financial pride. It’s not just about the extra money—though every bit helps toward our anniversary trip fund—it’s about knowing that something I created with my own hands is going to sit in someone else’s home and bring them peace.

Emma was 'helping' me in the kitchen earlier, though mostly she was busy drawing elaborate horses on the back of her math worksheets. She’s seven now, and her imagination is just starting to take these beautiful, wild turns. She asked me if she could help me pour the wax next time, and I realized how much she’s watching me. She’s watching how I balance the hardware store, the candles, the running, and the laundry. It makes me want to be even more intentional about how I speak to myself. I want her to grow up seeing a mother who values her own strength as much as she values her kindness.

I had a quick chat with Megan today when I stopped by Sweet Magnolia to drop off a fresh batch of 'Lavender Lemon' tin candles. She was covered in flour, as usual, and we confirmed our pickleball match for Saturday. We talked briefly about the 5K, and she’s thinking about joining me for the walk-run portion. Having that community, that sisterhood of women who are all just trying to stay upright and joyful, is what keeps me sane. We laughed about how Dani, our stylist upstairs, is convinced we both need to go 'strawberry blonde' for the fall. I’m not sure I’m that brave yet, but the idea of a change is tempting.

Dinner is on the stove now—a simple lemon chicken that Mark loves. I’m trying to keep things lean for the training, but I also want it to be a meal that feels like a reward for a hard day’s work. As the kitchen warms up, I’m reflecting on the fact that growth isn't always a giant leap. Sometimes, it’s just the ten percent more effort you put into your run, or the extra five minutes you spend listening to your son’s dinosaur theories. It’s the slow, steady accumulation of small victories that build a life you’re proud to live.

Mark just walked through the door and the kids are swarming him. The house is loud, the candles are setting, and my legs are a little sore in the best way possible. I feel desirable not because I’m perfect, but because I am present. I am here, in this blue house on Sycamore Street, and I am building something real. Whether you’re running your first mile or just trying to get through the laundry pile, know that your effort matters. You are worth the work you put into yourself.

I’m going to go help Mark with the kids now and enjoy this meal together. I hope your Tuesday brought you a little bit of light and a lot of peace. We’re all in this together, ladies. Keep tending to your gardens and running your races, no matter the pace.

I love you. — Lucy