Booksflutterby

My Private Paradise

2012-01-15T10:45:00.000-08:00

The city where I live built a wonderful little park for me. The winding walking trail begins across the street from my front door and progresses down a small hill. Tall trees stand guard as the trail leads to several small grassy areas with shorter trees, planters, boulders, and flowers. Soon they will fill my private paradise with new plants, trees, art, and a small foot bridge.

As I walk through the little park, I'm greeted by various birds. During the spring, summer, and fall, a trio of doves were always there to greet me and make my day brighter. Today a gaggle of geese looked at me briefly, then went about their business. When the weather is warmer, butterflies float across my path, and grasshoppers bound joyously in the distance. It's a place of peace. It's a place where I'm usually alone and can think.

The view from below.

Of course the city didn't build it just for me, but because I'm usually the only person walking through the park on any given day, it often feels as if they designed it with me in mind. Occasionally I'll cross paths with a wayward family riding bikes or out for an evening stroll, but usually it's all mine. I never thought I'd have my own park.

We all need special places that feel as if they're all ours. These little oases give us comfort and help us recharge our batteries so we can deal with the world in a civilized manner. They help those of us who are creative reconnect with our muses. My place is a park across the street. For others, it might be a busy coffee shop or a room in their home.

Now you know mine. I hope you have yours as well.

2011-12-23T17:13:00.000-08:00

And We're Surprised...Why?

2011-11-26T09:25:00.000-08:00

We've all seen news about various Occupy movements around the country and the term class warfare has been tossed around by the likes of Speaker of the House John Boehner and others. Now generational warfare is the latest, as the Super Committee admits failure to come to consensus. Anyone who's surprised by recent events hasn't been paying attention.

For years Americans have arrogantly believed it was their right as citizens of the U.S.A. to build wealth and flaunt it. In fact, they felt they were entitled to it. Can't actually build wealth? Hey, it's OK. Just borrow money and pretend you have it to spend. It's what the U.S. government does. Instead of learning values from their parents, many American citizens learned them from a government that has continued to pretend it's still a superpower in the world. They learned from celebrities who ask for more and more for doing relatively little. They bought into the false belief that everyone who lived on U.S. soil was, for some reason, inherently entitled to wealth and "the good things" in life.

Is it really surprising then that when everyone came crashing down to earth, when reality finally set in, that people would be angry? The economy has failed. The losers are those who bought into the pretense of living beyond their means, those who simply wanted to have a piece of the American Dream of owning a home, and those who were unlucky enough to work for companies or government agencies that felt the need to begin massive layoffs to balance budgets or build reserves. In the meantime, people who have remained wealthy, those who actually had plenty to lose and still float in the deep end of the luxury pool, are living their lives as they always have; however, they're now perceived as the new super villains, along with government and corporations.

It was inevitable. Life as many people knew it was going to change, and not for the better. If people didn't see this coming, they were lying to themselves. I'm not an economist or a great world thinker, but I had conversations with people years ago about how it was all going to come crumbling down one day. It was inevitable.

I'm not going to delve into who's right, who's wrong, who needs to see the light, who needs to back off. I'm just surprised by the number of intelligent people who watched the same news I did, saw the same things happening in our country, and didn't see that one day we would be a country at odds with ourselves. Republicans vs. Democrats. Rich vs. poor. Insured vs. non-insured. Those with homes vs. the homeless. Well fed vs. the hungry. Baby boomers vs. Generation Z. The list goes on. The only thing I can't look into the future and see is how it's all going to end. I wish I could.

We need to look at ourselves, that includes me, and ask what our part in all of this is. We need to look at ways we can concretely create change. It isn't by pitching tents and sitting on sidewalks, waiting for a rogue cop to pepper spray us. It's by closing our wallets to big corporations and supporting our local small businesses. Transferring our money from big banks to local credit unions. Researching candidates and items up for vote before we cast our ballot. And actually following through and casting that ballot. Perhaps we need to remember the values our grandparents and great-grandparents had; those that focused on family, friends, and earning an honest living - not material possessions. Maybe we need to get back to the basics.

My Sweet Addiction

2011-11-07T17:18:00.000-08:00

Dear Hershey's

Someone gave me a bag of your Pumpkin Spice Kisses for Halloween. Now I'm addicted. I've searched my town and a neighboring city; however, it appears all the Pumpkin Spice Kisses have been replaced with Christmas Peppermint and the like. What's up with that? I mean it's not even Thanksgiving yet. Hello... Pumpkin pie... Pumpkin Spice Kisses... It adds up to they should still be for sale everywhere.

Thanks to you I'm now stealing Pumpkin Spice Kisses from my coworkers' candy dishes and begging for their bags of leftovers. Yes, I've been reduced to this. Last week, someone baked cookies and put these little bits of deliciousness in the middle of each. When everyone was distracted, I pulled them all off and stuffed them in my purse. They're a little fuzzy, but I can't be picky at this point.

Fair warning, if I have to go to Pumpkin Spice Kisses rehab, I'm going to send you the bill, as it truly is all your fault. If, however, you would like to donate several bags of Pumpkin Spice Kisses to me, I would be ever so grateful and we'll call it even.

Sincerely,

Where are the Pumpkin Spice Kisses?

All I see are Christmas Kisses.

Is there a seasonal candy or food you long for that has already been removed? Or are you thrilled to see Christmas type candy and food emerging?

But So-and-So Said...

2011-09-29T19:51:00.000-07:00

People often make statements about things without having all the facts. They go by hearsay, making assumptions based on what they've heard through the grapevine, from their neighbor, an email from a friend, a news outlet, or a magazine ad. Some wonder enough to do a little research and find the facts, but many choose to simply believe what they were told by mass media or an individual with an opinion or a little gossip.

As one who doesn't take things at face value and always likes to go to the source for information, it's hard for me to understand people who base their entire belief system about a subject on what they've been told by a third party. How can you effectively debate or defend your support of a political party or bill up for vote in Congress if you've never actually checked out the background of the candidates or read the bill itself? Is it possible to truly know a person if all you've heard about them is what your coworkers have told you? Shouldn't you talk to the person directly and find out if they really did rob that bank back in 1992? And then there's the biggie. Religion. Faith and belief in a higher power is something that is innate in many of us. But that doesn't mean we have to blindly accept the religion of our parents. Doesn't something as important as your core belief system deserve some time and research? It doesn't mean you have to deny or abandon your Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim, atheist, Wiccan, whatever views. It just means you're a more educated person who is confident and knowledgeable about not only your religion but others as well.

People slam us with information every day. Unless you stay home with the phone, television, computer, and radio turned off, there is no way to avoid someone trying to influence you about something. Some are subtle and wind it into a conversation. Others are blatant and present you with a laundry list of "facts" that you need to know. Sometimes we realize right away that what they're telling us isn't true or that they aren't telling us a truth we don't already know. Other times we have do a little digging at the source to get the truth.

When you defend your point about a subject, when you make a judgement about a person, do you base it on what you've heard from others or do you try to find the truth for yourself? Are you open to knowing the truth if it differs from what you've heard or what you've always believed it to be?

Beware of Saws

2011-09-25T22:34:00.000-07:00

Family. We don't choose them, and those we're related to typically don't have a say in our choice of spouse when we say "I do." We end up with this interesting blend of personalities, walking thinly drawn lines to keep the peace or finding soulmates in our in-laws. When it works, it makes one feel secure and loved. When it doesn't, it can be devastating.

Family connections are important. We need each other, in good times and bad. The history we have with one another is unique and helps make us who we are. There are very few justifiable reasons why we should turn our backs on family. Unless someone does something unforgivably egregious, you should always find a way to make amends, and never let an outside person be the catalyst for the breakdown of communication with someone you love.

I recently witnessed a wife actively seek to separate her husband from his brother. There is nothing that can justify her actions. The brother has done nothing to her or her husband. Yet this woman spent months trying to not only break up the brothers, but also break up the relationship the brother has with his girlfriend. To drive the final nail in the familial coffin, she had her husband tell his mom that they would no longer spend holidays with her because of the brother. The woman is pure evil.

My hope is that this woman's husband will eventually realize what is really happening and speak to his brother. They need to come together and he needs to know the truth of what his wife has done. The brothers need to become family again.

None of us know how much time we have left with those we love. We don't know how much time we have to make up with those we're estranged from. If there is someone in your past you've cut out, I encourage you to examine what happened and ask yourself if the offense was really worth severing ties. If not, be brave and take the first step to mending your relationship. Don't let too much time go by. Family is important. We need each other.

Waiting for the Next Stop

2011-09-20T23:12:00.000-07:00

No, my blog is not forgotten. The carousel of life has me spinning at the moment. Things are busy, but very good. Will I be able to grab the ring as the carousel circles me round and round? Stay tuned to find out. I have a new blog post coming soon.

Curiouser and Curiouser

2011-08-04T20:24:00.000-07:00

'We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'

My life of late seems as if I've stepped through the looking glass. Things feel slightly off, not exactly as they should, and even a little warped. People are acting out of character, someone near and dear is no longer here, and something I thought would be routine, wasn't. I wake every day wondering what new weirdness is going to happen. What will be vaguely not right?

I know everyone has these kinds of days, these moments in their life when the world seems to be tilted just a little. Usually we ride it out and wait for the universe to course-correct. Most of the time it doesn't take long. But based on what I know is in my immediate future, I'm afraid I may need to buckle up for a few more weeks in Wonderland. With jury duty coming up, I'm crossing my fingers that The Hatter hasn't gone mad or a trial for the Queen of Hearts isn't on the docket. If it is, I honestly won't be surprised.

I See The Signs!

2011-07-04T12:16:00.000-07:00

I think signs are awesome. They're a chance to get a message across while being a little creative and humorous or they try to be serious and come across as a little goofy. One of my "just for fun" goals this year is to try to take pictures of all the signs that give me a giggle. To kick off my Sign-O-Thon, here are a few I took this week, along with two at the end that I took a couple of years ago. Enjoy!

So many things come to mind, but I'll be nice.

I always think this one is kind of sad. But yay that they get to play outside!

I can't afford to send everyone who needs training to this place.

Um, there is a perfectly good road that continues past this sign to my destination. Why do I have to get out and walk for 1/2 a mile? And how do I get my car to the stop sign at the end of that 1/2 mile?

Would you attend a church that had Little Hope? Me neither.

Yes, this is where I get many of my friends, but I love them all.

Ewwwwwww! I refuse to shop at a convenience store that wants to know if people "Got Worms."

Who knew The Way To Grace was in Pocatello, ID?

"Don’t Mess With Texas" has nothing on Washington's anti-litter campaign. At least we Texans don't threaten overt violence.

Excellent. They've now given up on trying to stop people from drinking and driving. Now it's up to the rest of us to just "watch out."

2011-07-01T21:49:00.000-07:00

Just a quickie to let you know I'm still alive and kickin'! I'm busy working on my next post, so expect it soon. In the meantime, take a look around and see if you can spot the redecorating I did on my blog.

Be Right Back...

2011-06-12T12:50:00.000-07:00

Dork of the Day (or The Ding That Wasn't)

2011-05-30T19:11:00.000-07:00

When things happen to my condo or car, I like to take care of the problem as soon as possible so I don't have to worry about it. That's why when a rock hit my windshield, putting a nice sized ding in it, I immediately called a company to fill it in before it could become a full-fledged crack. I had used this company before and they'd always done an outstanding job. This day they provided the same outstanding service.

My appointment window was between 9:00 and 12:00; they were coming to me, so I wasn't going to lose any work time, just a lot of money to fix the rock ding. Around 10:00ish, a nice lady arrived to repair my windshield. But when I went outside to meet her, she said she couldn't see a current chip, just one that had already been repaired. Huh? I could clearly see it. Was she blind? Did they send me a newbie who hadn't been trained properly? No worries. I'd help her out. I opened my car door, slid behind the wheel, and pointed to the big rock ding.

"Ah!" she said as I joined her outside, "I see the problem."

And with that, she used her thumb to scrape away my "ding." Turns out my ding was...a bug. After apologizing to her profusely and being reassured that I wouldn't be charged for the bug diagnosis, she assured me I wasn't the first to call about a "rock/bug ding." That didn't keep me from feeling like the Dork of the Day, but it was nice to know I wasn't the only one.

We all have our dorky moments. They keep life interesting and sometimes provide a few laughs. So here's to me and my Dork of the Day moment!

The Daisy Trail

2011-05-18T21:26:00.000-07:00

It feels like forever since I've posted something new. These days, I do several things a bit slower than I used to, thanks to my unexpected side trip to the hospital a month ago. It's temporary. I'm working my way back to normal bit-by-bit. But nothing prepared me for the horror I would feel while doing something that used to be a breeze: walking a mile.

My doctor told me I should take it easy and never go fast enough to begin breathing heavily. No problem. I've walked that trail a hundred times. For a few days I went out, did my walk, and was proud of myself for making it up the little hill and back down again. OK, so it's really just a slight incline. It took longer than it used to and I had to keep slowing down because I became winded easily (thanks a lot, blood clots), but I did it. Then I realized just how slow I was going. Turtle slow. Worse than old lady slow. Toddler just learning to walk slow.

There I was, enjoying the beautiful day, saying hello to those going the opposite direction, when it happened. I was passed by two small women who were at least in their 70s. They had their cute little outfits on, complete with matching caps, and there I was in my baggy jeans (because I've lost weight) and giant straw hat (hey, it was sunny and I'm very fair). I had just been smoked by Miss Daisy and her friend on the walking trail. Fine. It was a sad moment. I stopped to mourn and catch my breath.

So on I trudged, trying to convince myself that they were superhuman and I'm really not that slow. The reality is that I am right now. That's OK. If I keep doing what I'm supposed to, someday I'll be back to normal or better, and when I am, I'll leave them in the dust as I pass and be proud of how much I've progressed.

What Does It Feel Like?

2011-04-19T10:27:00.000-07:00

I consulted my trusted blog advisor, Steven, about what I should write for this post, and at first said I didn't want to divulge too much about what's been happening in my personal life lately. I've since changed my mind. I think what's happened to me this past week is important, and I need to write about it, just in case it might save the life of someone else.

Last Monday was a typical day; however, I noticed a little soreness in the upper part of my back. As the day went on, the pain grew worse and I decided I had pulled something. The pain spread across my back and into my chest, and I noticed it was getting harder to breathe. By the end of the day, I couldn't take in deep breaths because of the pain.

I was supposed to Skype-cook with Steven that night, but knew he had a cluster headache (trust me, they're terrible), so I at least had a reprieve until he felt better later. We talked and decided ibuprofen and an hour of rest might help us both. An hour later I felt slightly better, and we cooked our meals together via Skype (same recipe at the same time with our laptops in the kitchen). Total prep, cook, and talk time was somewhere around 2 hours, maybe a little less. Once dinner was ready, we logged off and ate on our own. I was beginning to hurt again, but only had one ibuprofen left, so I decided a heating pad might help. It did. To the point that I fell asleep in a comfy chair with my laptop, phone, and TV remote all in my lap. I woke and decided I should have gone to bed a couple of hours ago.

It never occurred to me to take my heating pad with me, so I simply went through my usual routine and went to bed. Hours later I woke, unable to breathe. My back and chest hurt. My first thought, of course, was that this was something a hot bubble bath could cure. No. It did help relax me and ease the pain, but it was no magical cure. I remembered the heating pad, put it on the bed and turned it up to high. Ah yes, that was what I needed. By morning I would be a different person. Little did I know...

When morning came, the pain and painful breathing were still there, so I called my doctor to see if I could get an appointment to get a muscle relaxer. I got the doctor's nurse, and we went through a series of questions and I could tell where this was headed -- heart-related problems. Um, no. I did my best to convince him it was muscle, and he did his best to convince me to go to the emergency room. I have a phobia of hospitals, so, um, no. I was determined to talk him into the muscle theory. He was having none of it.

Go. To. The. Emergency. Room.

I finally agreed, then called my mom, who came and got me. Right now, moms are the best thing ever invented! I called Steven and let him know what was happening, and to assure him nothing was going to stop me from boarding a plane on Saturday to see him. I also called work to let them know I'd be late because my doctor's nurse was insisting I waste time and money going to the emergency room.

My mom and I drove to the Valley Hospital and Medical Center in Spokane Valley, and once I told them the list of symptoms the phone nurse insisted I write down and give them, I was immediately escorted to an area to have an EKG, which was normal. Yay, because I told everyone within ear shot, several times, no matter what they found, they must fix it in time for me to board a plane to Texas on Saturday.

Next up? Drawing blood. Ha! No easy task where I'm concerned. My veins are difficult to find, so they have to take it out of my hand. What's worse than having blood drawn from your hand? Having an IV inserted into your wrist, again because they can't find veins. I was then whisked away to x-ray and brought back with results shortly to follow. No problems with the x-rays; however, the blood tests showed signs of elevated....something that means I could have blood clots or an extreme inflammation somewhere. Next step? Whisked off to have a CT scan.

I've never had a CT scan and apparently having an IV in my wrist required the consultation of three people before they could proceed. I also made sure I informed them that they were to find nothing because I had to be on a plane to Texas on Saturday (this was my theme for the day). They finally decided the dye or whatever could be injected into my wrist and did so. Once the scan was over, I was again whisked back to my little room where my mom was dutifully waiting. A short time later, the nicest doctor in the world (seriously) came in and asked if I wanted good or bad news first. Hit me with the bad. "You're not getting on a plane to Texas on Saturday." That was all I heard and I began sobbing.

Again, moms are the best invention ever because she heard everything he said. Once he left and she calmed me down, I had to ask her what was wrong with me. I had blood clots in my lungs, better known as a pulmonary embolisms. I could have had a stroke or died on the plane.

They did an ultrasound to find the root of the clot, which turned out to be behind my left knee, then checked me into the hospital for five days of absolutely no rest and a massive amount of confusing information.

All this is to say that we all feel aches and pains, but some need to be taken seriously. If mine hadn't happened to affect my breathing, I probably would have popped ibuprofen for days thinking it would go away, then I would have boarded that plane on Saturday.

Don't ignore aches and pains that stick around for a while or have no real cause. Call your doctor immediately. Believe me, it's better to have some tests run and find out all is well than to die because you thought your pains were normal. I'm a healthy person. This was proven by the million other tests they ran on me. So it can happen to anyone. They believe my pulmonary embolisms were caused by a medication I was taking, but it could be genetic. We're hoping I'll only have to take blood thinners and go in for routine tests for six months. Fingers crossed.

To anyone who made it this far in this long post, I know you've heard it all somewhere before. If I can help save someone else by posting my story, then this whole blog thing has been worth it.

Is This Amount OK? Um, No.

2011-04-03T20:48:00.000-07:00

OK, I have to share another pet peeve of mine. When I use my debit or credit card to checkout at any store, the machine always asks this question, to which I'm unable give an honest answer, "Is this amount OK?" Hmm. To be honest, no, it's not OK. I'd like to pay you 50% less, but you're not giving me that option, so I guess I'll have to say yes. The more appropriate question would be, "Is this amount correct?" or "Is this amount accurate?"

Maybe I'm just being picky, but honestly, every single time I want to answer, "No, I want to pay less." I've mentioned this to several cashiers and they've laughed and agreed it is a dumb question.

So there's my rant for the day. Will someone kindly tell the makers of the credit/debit card machines to please restate the question? Sigh. Probably not. I suppose I'm just stuck with this pet peeve, unless I want to go back to using cash.

And I've Got... Nothing

2011-03-20T21:48:00.000-07:00

And what did my wondering eyes see this week?

So a few people have asked me to update my blog and post something new and brilliant. Well, believe it or not, I've got nothing to say. Hey! No laughter from my friends and family! Stop it! Really, I just can't think of anything worthwhile.

Now things that are trivial and inconsequential, that I can do. But worthwhile, not this week. This week consisted of...

Chasing down my garbage can as the wind blew it away while watching a TV show...during the exact same scene. Three times. After rewinding three times, I finally heard the single line I'd been waiting to hear. By then it was anticlimactic.

I'm in my 40s and discovered it's still possible to get a pimple. Really? How is that fair?

Cut myself in the kitchen with my cool new knife, cut myself in the kitchen with my cool new knife, and then cut myself in the kitchen with my cool new knife.

Worked out, then immediately went grocery shopping while looking and smelling like a vagrant.

Passed up buying a piece of carrot cake because I was assured there would be homemade carrot cake at an office potluck. There wasn't.

Was quizzed by my doctor about the ins and outs of long distance Skyping with my boyfriend, how exactly we cook "together", when we met, what our moms thought when we Skyped with them, and more. An hour and a half later, I finally left to go to work. Oh yeah, and we also talked about my health.

Last night I accidentally made a chef salad big enough for eight, and I was alone. I ate enough for two.

This morning I woke up and realized I had all the ingredients to make a breakfast casserole I was craving. Woohoo, because I never have all the ingredients!

But other than that, I've got...nothing.

A Few Views of My World

2011-03-07T22:21:00.000-08:00

A few people have asked me to post some of my photos. Soon I'll be taking new ones, but in the meantime, here are a few of my current faves.

The Twilight Zone opening? The Time Tunnel? Am I a sci-fi geek? No, no, and yes. It's actually a purple Slinky on a dark couch. I took it one day after being snowed in at home for several days (final snow count; 7 feet-ish).

Most people enjoy the view from the top of lighthouses. I'm afraid of heights and prefer the view from the safety of the ground. During a trip to the Oregon coast, my friends trekked up the stairs to take in the vista. As I watched them huff and puff their way up, I thought the view from my perspective was really cool too.

Drip, drip, drop. As the above mentioned 7 foot snowfall began to melt, I saw this icicle and wondered how long it would take to get a photo of a single drop. Surprisingly, not that long. I think it took me 4 or 5 shots in just a few minutes.

This reminds me of a postcard. @Steven and I went for a drive and stopped at a park along a river in Spokane, WA. The day was perfect. The snow was crisp, the sky was a perfect blue, and there weren't many people out (possibly because it was 9 degrees).

This photo always reminds me of my mom. We drove up to Green Bluff in the Washington area, and stopped so we could take photos of this sunflower. I framed it so I could get the blue sky and red barn as well. My wonderful mom was so focused on the flower, she never saw the big red barn. She did manage to accidentally get it in her shots. And she says I'm unobservant...

When you enter Yellowstone National Park it clearly states you must stay at least 25 yards aways from the elk. They are wild. However, once you're in the park and people are rushing to pull over and take photos, it's easy to get caught up in the moment. I was so excited, I ran up to him and began snapping photos. I was thrilled no one else was around me. Yay! It was only after he bellowed...loudly, that I looked around and saw that everyone with half a brain was standing behind their cars, including my mom. I stupidly took another shot or two anyway, then joined them.

The Sapphire Pools at Yellowstone National Park are incredible. If you ever want to see how many colors are possible in nature, visit Yellowstone. It's simply gorgeous. I stood and stared at this bubbling pool for a while before remembering I might be able to capture it in a photo. This is close, but I still don't think it shows off just how beautiful it really is.

If you live in the Pacific Northwest, you know this is Haystack Rock on the Oregon coast. If you've never been to the Oregon coast, I highly recommend making the trip and doing the drive. It's beautiful. Some friends and I spent several days touring the coast and other parts of Oregon. This shot was near the end of the day and it was so peaceful. I'd love to go back some day soon.

This is the view from the top of Steptoe Butte in WA. The fact that I was able to snap this photo is nothing short of a miracle. I'm terrified of heights and the drive up to the top of the butte is harrowing. Imagine a tiny road that is supposedly two lanes. (Uh huh. Two lanes if one is a car and the other is a bicycle!) It winds around the butte in a giant corkscrew. So if you're in the passenger seat, you're on the edge of a cliff the entire way up. Frightening! But somehow I managed to survive and left only shallow finger dents in the car seat. I'm really glad I did it, but I'm not sure I could do it again. Unless someone offered to pay me. A lot.

I was standing on a bridge, looking down into crystal clear water and realized the bridge was perfectly reflected, but with depth and texture. I liked the effect the water created.

During a trip to Atlanta, some friends and I stopped by the church where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. preached. It is now a memorial to Dr. King, and while you view photos and take in the atmosphere, they play his most famous speech over loud speakers. As everyone silently sat in the pews and took it all in, I snapped this photo. I was moved by the history of it. The wood is worn where hands have gripped it over the years, hands that belonged to people who had the privilege of hearing Dr. King firsthand, hands of people who perhaps marched for equal rights and freedom, hands of people who maybe changed the history of our country. This photo is one of my favorites. Every time I see it I'm reminded of that day and that moment.

Catching Fireflies

2011-02-18T18:51:00.000-08:00

I'm a big fan of the television show, Fringe. Read no further if you're a fan and haven't watched the January 21 episode.

One of the themes of the show that evening was how changing even one small event could set off a chain reaction that would affect people you've never met. Something so simple as catching a firefly when you weren't supposed to could cause someone's death in another location. How? Because that firefly never flew down the street and wasn't there for a little girl to catch, causing her to continue looking for fireflies long after she should have been home. Her father became worried, and went in search of her in his car, eventually hitting and killing an innocent pedestrian. And all this happened because you caught a firefly you weren't supposed to catch.

Every day we make decisions that lead us in one direction or another, and often we wonder... What if I had taken the other path? What if I turned left instead of right? What if? What if?

Making one choice changes not only our lives, but the lives of so many others, people we don't even know and likely will never meet. It's mind-boggling.

Last week I caught a firefly. I made what I thought was a simple blog post on a whim, and thought it would be like any other; a few of my friends and my mom would read it, maybe a couple of strangers from my Twitterverse. But within eighteen hours of posting it, something happened. It was forwarded to friends of friends and parties were formed. People decided to change what they were doing on February 13 and possibly February 14, based on something I did without much thought. It amazed me. I don't know if I was supposed to catch that firefly last week, but it seems so to me. I haven't heard of any bad that has come from it, but I have thought about what if I hadn't posted it. How many people wouldn't have gotten together with friends that weekend and laughed?

Sometimes we're supposed to catch the firefly and sometimes not. There is no way to know which is the right decision, we simply have to follow our instincts and know that what we're doing is right. Today all I know is that I'm glad I caught that firefly last week. I'm glad I posted a crazy little nothing about St. Upid on whim.

St. Upid's Day

2011-02-10T18:25:00.000-08:00

As Valentine's Day approaches, my mind always turns to thoughts of love. Of course. It's what we're supposed to do. Right? Focus on the one person we love... give them things to prove our love... make sure we tell them we're in love... blah, blah, blah. If we're single and really lucky, maybe we get a card and cookie from our mom or best friend.

Most of my V-Days have been sadly lacking in the romance department. I'm either single or I have an uncanny ability to annoy the man in my life just before the big day hits. Several years ago I was happily single, and being in the same Valentineless condition, a friend came up with St. Upid's Day. I thought it was quite brilliant of him at the time, and the thought of St. Upid's Day (and my friend Rob) still makes me smile.

Read this title slowly...

St. Upid's Day

(yep, stupid)

It's the anti-Valentine's Day day celebrated on February 13 by those who have no love, are tired of love, have been broken by love, are sick of feeling forced by the commercial machine to buy useless gifts, or those who just want another excuse to celebrate something and drink. St. Upid has a Facebook account, but he seems to be distracted these days. He also has a Twitter ID, but is apparently too busy to Tweet at the moment. Perhaps he's found love himself and is now spending February 13 at the mall searching for that perfect V-Day gift. I don't know.

Happy Valentine's Day to those who celebrate it!

Happy St. Upid's Day to those who don't!

Literally...One of My Top Pet Peeves

2011-02-05T09:02:00.000-08:00

I'm watching a new show on the Syfy channel called Face Off. It's one of the few reality shows I'm willing to give a try. The concept is cool, but I'm only halfway through the first episode and the contestants have literally annoyed me to the point I'm ready to delete it from my DVR and never watch it again.

As with other reality shows, this one has little side interviews with the contestants. They explain what was happening, give their opinions, snark on other contestants, etc. The problem? This bunch injects the word "literally" into their interviews quite often and always inappropriately. It's happening so often, it could be a drinking game.

"Yay! Gabe said literally! Take a drink!"

"Anthony just said it. Take another shot!"

"Go, Jessica! Drink! Oops, getting a little tipsy now."

People. When you use the word literally, it means that you actually did whatever you just stated. So when one guy said he "literally did back flips." I expected to see him doing them. No. It doesn't mean you mentally did something or you emotionally did something. It means you ACTUALLY did it.

I hear people misuse this word every day and I'm always tempted to correct them, but I can't. That would be rude. Instead I grit my teeth and let it go. But maybe I should begin speaking up. Maybe if I teach a few people the proper use of the word, perhaps it will literally ripple across America and things will change. Or maybe I'll literally get a slap in the face and never bring it up again.

An Evening of Dumb Moves

2011-01-30T20:34:00.000-08:00

How many dumb moves can one person make within a ten minute time period? Let's find out.

Dumb Move #1 - Opening my front door without first looking to see who was knocking after dark.

Dumb Move #2 - Assuming because I live in a small town, it's OK to open the door without looking to see who it is.

Dumb Move #3 - Standing with the door open as the innocent looking late teen/early 20's guy explains his program and need to ask me questions.

Dumb Move #4 - Answering his questions, which included telling him where exactly I work, what I do for a living, how long I've been there, etc. Oh and by the way, that there is no one else at home that he can talk to to ask these same questions.

Dawning realization that I'm making Dumb Moves...

Hmm. I just told this stranger I'm gone all day and that I might live alone. Time to cover myself, "Yeah, my boyfriend lives here too, but he's busy. He's freelances and works here out of the condo all day." (Um, no, that doesn't sound made up at all.) For all you potential stalkers, creepers, etc. out there, I have a big dog, a 6' 4" boyfriend, sleep with a gun under my pillow, and recently obtained my black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Test me.

It turned out the kid wanted to sell me magazines, and I'm assuming he's not planning on coming back to murder or rob me. Before any of you lecture me, my neighbor took care of that.

Lesson Learned - Always look to see who is knocking before answering the door after dark (or any time really), and never give out personal information to strangers, even in small town nowhere.

Magical Moving Mushrooms

2011-01-26T14:17:00.000-08:00

Agaricus Bisporus

I go to the same grocery store for most of my stuff because it's the best deal in town. I also like the fact that I can count on items being in their usual spot each and every visit; with one glaring exception.

Yesterday it took me forever to find my beloved mushrooms, and this isn't the first time. I've decided they move them when they know I'm coming just to mess with me. I swear they're on a different aisle and a different shelf every time. Conspiracy? Or imagination?

Pet Peeve of Mine

2011-01-23T00:04:00.000-08:00

Among things that bug me, news headlines that are poorly written.

Today online at a Spokane news station...

"Family Attacked by Hammer Asking For Community's Help."

Really? There is a homicidal hammer on the loose? And it's asking for the community's help? Should I be afraid of other tools as well, or is the hammer working alone?

An Eight Week Agenda

2011-01-21T17:11:00.000-08:00

Death has been a theme in my life lately. No, I haven't lost anyone near and dear to me (thankfully), but a few people I know have, and that has prompted conversations one normally wouldn't have with friends and co-workers. One of the more interesting focused on what we would do if we found out we had only eight weeks to live.

A friend and I, of course, had the standard answer of selling everything we own and doing all the things on our "bucket lists." Once we had shared what that might include (trips to Rome and New Zealand for example), she paused for a moment and added that a friend of hers had been told he had only eight weeks to live two years ago, and all the bucket list stuff flew out the window. Instead of living it up around the world or going on daring adventures, all he wanted to do was stay at home and simply be with his loved ones. If he couldn't get the transplant he needed, he wanted to spend every waking hour enjoying his last moments on earth surrounded by people he loved, who loved him in return. This made such sense. Why go off and spend your last weeks doing things that didn't include the people you care about? Fortunately, he received the liver he needed and he's still here to enjoy life.

But this made me wonder. If I really only had only eight weeks to live, and if I were really honest with myself, what would I do? If the eight weeks was a sure thing, no transplant on the horizon, no misdiagnosis. What would I do?

I'd sell everything I own, and I mean everything. My condo, the contents, my car. Everything. I won't need them in eight weeks. Why not get as much cash as I can for them while I'm here?

I'd use the cash to travel to each and every friend and family member who is scattered across the U.S. and Paraguay. And if anyone wanted to join me on the journey, so much the better! If they were all located in one place, I'd stay there, but they aren't, so travel I must.

But before I left on my sojourn, I'd round up everything I've written that was even remotely worthy of being read and every photograph I've taken that touched my soul, and I would have them printed in a book that could be distributed to those I love as part of my legacy. This is who I am...this is who I was. And I'd make darn sure that the best photo ever taken of me was included, so generations from now, someone would know what I looked like as they read my work or admired my photography.

And if there was any money left at the end of my adventure, I'd see if there was any way I could set up a trust for each of my nieces and nephews with strict stipulations. They would have to take a year off after high school, travel somewhere outside the U.S., volunteer their time for at least six months, not get married or have children during that year, and learn another language. If they did all that, and I'm sure I'd think of more "live it up while you're young" things for them to do, then they would get the money from the trust to do with as they pleased.

Finally, I'd end my journey in Texas. It wouldn't really matter where, as long as it was in my home state (but preferably not West Texas or far South Texas...maybe it does matter). I would want to breathe my last at home, hopefully with at least one or two people who loved me, who were there to hold my hand and wish me well on the next leg of my journey.

So that's what I would do if I found out today, without any doubt, that I only had eight weeks to live. What, dear reader, would you do? I'd really like to know, so e-mail me or comment on this blog.

True Classic - True Grit

2011-01-17T23:30:00.000-08:00

Before we begin, let me state first, dear reader, that I'm not a movie critic, nor am I an avid movie buff who knows the ins and outs of moviedom, but I do feel led to comment on one I saw today. My mom and I took a little break from life and went to see the remake of True Grit on the advice of friends and co-workers.

Normally I'm not a big fan of remakes if the original is a classic. Why mess with a good thing? I've never understood the need to take something beloved by many and redo it, sometimes to the point of being unrecognizable. It seems lazy. But today's remake was the rare exception.

I went in with an open mind, hoping for the best and having not seen the original in many years. I had it on good authority that this remake was one worth viewing, so my hopes were high. I was not disappointed. What made it even better, I went home and immediately watched the original version. Nothing against Mr. Wayne, an American icon to be certain, but the new version improved upon the old. It took away bits that were unnecessary, changed things that needed to be, and casting was dead on.

But I think what struck me most about the revamped version, what I most admired on the part of the actors and directors, was the ability of the actors to convey so much in subtle gestures or facial expressions. All it took sometimes was a look, a nod, a hand twitch for the audience to know exactly what was going through the character's mind. Subtle, and everyone got it. There was no need to overdo a scene or explain what was meant. They gave us credit for being intelligent people who would get it. That seems to be missing from so many movies and television shows these days.

Often I'll watch something and wonder why the creators, the writers, the directors think the American public is so simple that we won't get the subtleties they give us. Why do they feel the need to follow a brilliant scene with something that diminishes it by blatantly explaining what we just saw? Give us credit. We get it. So when a movie like True Grit comes along and the actors are allowed to really show how good they are at their craft, we appreciate it. This is why I'm hearing about the movie from so many people.

And there you have it, dear reader, my first movie recommendation on my blog. If you don't like westerns, you should give this one a try. If you're not a big Jeff Bridges fan, look past it. If you think two hours is too long to sit in a theater, OK, I'll give you that one, but you must see it when it's available on On Demand or DVD.

Live It Again Moments

2011-01-04T11:41:00.000-08:00

It's a new year, dear readers, and rather than give you a list of resolutions I'll likely never keep, I thought it would be fun to take a stroll down memory lane and tell you the ten things I wish I could experience for the first time again. We all have those moments, those experiences, those feelings that were so amazing, they can only be felt that way once. And so, after much thought, and in no particular order, here are my...

Top 10 Wish-I-Could-Live-It-Again Moments

Staying up late, watching really bad, black and white, scary movies as a kid - The thrill of staying up past my bedtime on a Saturday night, struggling to keep my eyes open until the closing credits, and being scared by zombies was awesome.

Taking a road trip alone in Texas at night - I felt like I had discovered the secret to losing all stress, and quite possibly have never been so relaxed as an adult. My hair was a mess and I didn't care. My car was iffy on making the trip and I didn't care. My bank account was low and I didn't care. I was young and just didn't care about much.

The wonder of snow - White stuff fell from the sky and the first time I remember seeing real snow, I was mesmerized. I felt as if I had stepped into an old movie, one in which people sang about their feelings and danced for no good reason. It was magical.

Riding a bicycle - For the first time, I had wheels! OK, so I didn't know how to stop the thing, other than running it into the garage door (after laughing at me, my family showed me how to use the breaks), but the freedom I experienced was great. I could go places!

Singing in front of a crowd - There is nothing so thrilling as singing in front of a group of people, but doing it for the first time, was electrifying. I made people smile simply by opening my mouth. That was a first. Usually opening my mouth did the opposite.

Entering and winning my first writing contest - I never expected to place, let alone win; when I did, I was elated. No one outside my trusted circle, not even my family, had read my writing. The rush I felt is hard to explain.

Buying my first vehicle on my own - The thrill of knowing exactly what I wanted, how much I was willing to pay, and negotiating a lower price than I thought I could was incredible. I left the dealership feeling like I could do anything.

Getting my first library card - Having a card of my own, with my name on it felt like I had been given the key to the entire library. They may as well have engraved my name above the door because I felt like I owned the place. I could check out anything I wanted without asking my mom to do it for me.

Owning my first computer - It was the future and I had to be part of it. My first had no hard drive, only 640K of memory, a 5.25" floppy drive, and didn't do much of anything, but I knew it was the beginning of an exciting love affair with technology.

Seeing Jaws for the first time - I saw it in a small town in Texas in an outdoor movie theater where we sat in lawn chairs, and I have never been so frightened of something that truly existed. It was awesome. Swimming in the river was never the same again.

The Influential Fifteen

2010-12-19T18:51:00.000-08:00

Recently someone tagged me in a Facebook note about 15 authors who have been influential in his life. The challenge to me was to quickly think of my own list of 15, and post it in a note while tagging others. Normally I'm not one to do such, but once I started thinking about who had influenced me and why, it was just too much fun to pass up. So I did it. If you're not a friend of mine on Facebook and would like to see my "Influential Fifteen," I've included the list at the end of this post.

As I read the instructions, my immediate reaction was to think that there aren't that many authors who have influenced me. I mean, sure there are authors whose writing I enjoy, but authors who have truly influenced me in some way? Well, it turns out there are, and after I posted my list, I thought of more to add.

When completing the task, most people simply listed names; however, the person who sent it to me gave reasons as to why each of his authors made the cut. I liked this extra bit of insight into his life, so I did it as well. I wish other friends had done the same. To me, it's fascinating to read why someone decided to include William Goldman on his list as the first author. So when I created mine, I did so with much thought about why each author deserved to be there. Sure, I could have simply created an impressive lineup of "greats" or best sellers, but just in case someone was interested, and also because it was a bit of an exercise in self-discovery, I gave it more than a quick, passing thought.

And so, dear reader, I ask you this, if you love to read, who has influenced you and how or why? I'd love to see your list. You can post it in a comment or send it to me in an e-mail. It truly is interesting to reflect on who is swaying us as we wander through life.

Here's my "Influential Fifteen" (in basic order of when they influenced me during my life):

Mother Goose - OK, I know she’s not a real person, but the nursery rhymes written by "Mother Goose" were hugely influential on me, so she makes the list. My Mother Goose book was the first one I remember truly loving as a child. The nursery rhymes were the first I memorized and learned to read. Thus began my love affair with the written word.

Theodor Seuss Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss - I mean come on. Who hasn’t been influenced by the good doctor? I dare anyone to tell me they haven’t quoted one of his books or mentioned one of his characters at some point. I often create my own written or verbal versions of Green Eggs and Ham to fit the occasion. Dr. Seuss gave me the love of whimsical rhyming.

Arlene Mosel - She wrote Tikki Tikki Tembo (not to be confused with Rikki-Tikki-Tavi by Rudyard Kipling), a children’s book about a little boy who fell in a well, but almost wasn’t saved because his name was just too long (Tikki Tikki Tembo-No Sa Rembo-Chari Bari Ruchi-Pip Peri Pembo). I'll never forget his name or the book. She took a folktale and showed me how storytelling can be fun and memorable.

Laura Ingalls Wilder - She was one of my first introductions to more grownup reading in third grade and I read all her books voraciously. I loved the adventures of her life and fell in love with idea of writing thanks to her.

Edgar Allan Poe - "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore..." Yes, at one time I could actually recite all the words to The Raven. He was one of my first horror author loves, and it all started with Vincent Price movies. Once I found out they were based on the writings of E.A. Poe, I had to read everything he wrote. Thus began a darker twist to some of my young writing, something that would be encourage later by another author.

Dante Alighieri - I’ve been fascinated by The Divine Comedy since I was in middle school. Yes, I was an odd child. I mean really, what 7th grader wants to read The Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso? It was beautiful, complicated, difficult, long, and made me think. I still love it.

Stephen King - Oh the hours I’ve spent in Mr. King’s twisted worlds. I was a fan from the beginning with Carrie. I wasn’t old enough to see the movie, but that didn’t stop me from reading the book, and every King book that followed, until around 2001. I haven't been such a fan since that year, but I'm giving him another shot with Under the Dome. He helped me realize it's OK to let your mind wander to creepy, dark places and express it on paper.

Kathleen Woodiwiss - Do not laugh at this one. Yes, I used to read bodice rippers when I was a teen. Hey, the instructions were to list influential authors, and by golly her writing was influential on my life at the time. I moved from Little House on the Prairie to historical romances with ease. It’s amazing what you can learn in books.

William Faulkner - This one isn’t because I loved his books or his writing, but simply because I chose him to base my first college English research paper on when given a choice of authors. It was there that I learned I love to do research, love to write about it, and I’m good at it. The instructions say influential authors, not authors you love to read.

Maya Angelou - I first heard her recite one of her poems at President Clinton’s inauguration (no snide comments please), and immediately was captivated. I have to admit though that I most enjoy her poetry when she’s reciting it. She made me want to write poetry again, something I had given up for several years. I now indulge in poetic freedom.

James Patterson - Mr. Patterson’s books helped me through a few tough years when I really needed a good thriller to take my mind off of things. He also made me think I wanted to write thrillers, which I can’t do. I’ll leave it up to him.

John Grisham - Two reasons he made the list. First, I just like reading his books. Second, he’s the person who made me realize that your first career choice, isn’t necessarily your last. You can always follow your heart and become a writer.

Julia Cameron - No one said they had to be fiction authors. As a writer I have a strong desire to edit as I go and that’s a bad thing. Ms. Cameron's books encourage artists in general to just let go and let their art flow. I need that reminder now and then.

J.K. Rowling - I didn’t realize young adult fiction could be so enthralling. She’s also another writer who inspired me to keep writing, no matter what my circumstances.

Marian Keyes - I thought I should just go ahead and confess that I love stories about messed up Irish families. Ms. Keyes makes the list because she reintroduced me, as an adult, to chick lit. I realized it was OK to occasionally indulge, so I do every time she releases a book.

Musica Aeterna

2010-12-06T12:17:00.000-08:00

My, what a mixed reaction my last post received. Some loved it, saying it was inspirational and moved them to take action. Others told me it was a little too preachy and I should keep my opinions to myself. It's OK. I can take it. I'm not striving to please anyone except myself, but let's see if we can find some middle ground with this post.

I've recently been introduced to the wonderful world of movie soundtracks. Yes, I knew they existed before and even owned a few, but unless the music in a movie really stood out, I never paid a lot of attention. Now I do, thanks to a wonderfully geeky discophile in my life. He's introduced me to music I likely never would have had the opportunity to hear (Perfume - The Story of a Murderer), and has given me music I fell in love with immediately (District 9). Music has always played an important role in my life, but thanks to him, my horizons have been vastly expanded, and I now hear and feel the music playing in the background of every movie I watch. I notice how it affects the scene, and I understand how it can change the mood.

But after movies have ended, I'm now finding that I want to own many of the soundtracks. Yes, some of them conjure up images of the movies I enjoyed, but most simply provide outstanding music that works as the soundtrack for my life. Some songs are perfect for reading, others for writing, some for cleaning house, some for taking photos, and some lull me to sleep when my mind is racing and can't settle at the end of a long day. There seems to be a soundtrack for every scenario.

Perhaps the best is that lately, I find myself simply sitting with my eyes closed, letting the music flow, conjuring new images and emotions. It relaxes me, takes my imagination to new places, and allows me to be a little more creative. There are also times it brings up memories of people from a forgotten or not so forgotten past, and I'm transported to a time that can't be recaptured, but can always be remembered. The ultimate though, is when I simply drift off, unaware I'm doing so until the music ends and I awaken to silence.

If you don't pay attention to the music in movies or even some television shows, I encourage you to listen. And if you really enjoy what you hear, take steps to own some of it. Let a little instrumental loveliness flow into your life and be the soundtrack for some of your day-to-day activities. Appreciate what the composers and musicians have created.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to turn off the soundtrack to Pirates of the Caribbean and play a little music from Frost/Nixon.

Making Repairs

2010-11-26T11:25:00.000-08:00

Greetings Dear Readers,

I know it's been more than a month since I've updated my blog, and there is simply no excuse. Well, I have a million of them, but none are valid. The fact is that I let myself get distracted by other things, such as reaching my goal of writing 50,000 words for National Novel Writing Month and watching some of my favorite shows on TV. If you're still with me and still reading, I hope you recognize this is just how life is and how we are as people. Even things that are important to us are sometimes set aside in favor of things that are frivolous and fun.

As you know, if you've read my blog for any length of time, I don't really have a focus or specific topic. Whatever happens to be on my mind at the moment is what I write about. I considered changing that for the new year, thought maybe I would drag you along with me on a journey in writing a book, but I've decided against it. For one, I think you'd be bored. For another, there are times I simply want to share things that are on my mind and have nothing to do with writing; this blog is my personal venue for doing so. Which leads us to what is on my mind today. Actually, what has been on my mind for some time.

Relationships. Whether friends, family, or significant others, relationships are difficult to maintain. One wrong word, one wrong deed and everything can fall apart. It can take years to mend and sometimes it can never be mended. We're supposed to forgive those we love, move beyond the misspoken word or the angry statement, but too often we don't. We hold on to the perceived wrong, the perceived ugly action and we effectively end what was once a beautiful thing that gave us joy and filled a place in our life.

Why is it so hard for us to give the other person the benefit of the doubt? Why can we not move past the first transgression? Why do we sometimes actively look for other transgressions after that first? I don't have the answers. I wish I did. I know we've all been on both sides of the action. We've all held a grudge and we've all been the victim of someone not giving us a true second chance.

There are several scenarios happening with people I know right now. All it would take is conversation, forgiveness, and trust for them to regain the happiness they once had. I don't know if it will ever happen, I can only hope.

An elderly father and his son who had a falling out several years ago haven't spoken, other than the son yelling from his front porch for the father to go away. What is the issue? One can only guess about the deeper underlying causes, but the surface story is that it's years of perceived misunderstandings. The father isn't the most tactful person, and the son isn't the most forgiving. The son has held on to an early wrong, and he's never moved beyond it. In fact, every word and deed since that first wrong has been proof that his first judgement of the father was correct. Now they don't speak. The father wishes desperately his son would talk to him and let him be part of his life, but the son is having none of it.

Friends haven't spoken in years because one made a selfish decision at a time when things were strained in her life. One doesn't know how to reach out to the other and ask for forgiveness. The other doesn't know how to offer forgiveness unasked. So a friendship built on years of shared secrets, tears, laughter, adventures, and love dissolves. Over the years they think about each other and the selfish one reaches out, but the other has to forgive and trust has to be given again.

And that's what it comes down to; forgiveness and trust need to be given to the "offending" party. Not the fake, smile to their face and tell them you forgive them kind, but the real deal; the kind that comes from your heart and the depths of your soul. It has to be complete forgiveness. Without forgiveness, trust simply can't follow. If trust doesn't follow, then all of it is for naught. But true forgiveness is difficult and sometimes impossible. Will the son ever forgive his father? I really hope so. I can think of nothing more sad than for one of them to die before they've made amends. Will the friends reconnect so forgiveness can happen? We'll see. One has reached out to the other, so perhaps there is hope on the horizon.

So my questions for you, dear readers, are these. Who in your life do you need to forgive? Who do you need to extend trust to right now in order to repair a relationship well worth saving? Who do you need to apologize to or make amends with in order to move toward obtaining forgiveness and trust from them? Maybe the answer is no one. Maybe you're one of the lucky few who has perfect relationships. If so, you are fortunate indeed. Call or write your friends and family and tell them how much you love and appreciate them. But if you're like the rest of us and have a relationship in need of repair, take a deep breath and make the move to regain the joy you once had with the person. Maybe you can't get it back, but if you don't try, you won't know. What if you take a chance and it works?

NaNoWriMo Approaches

2010-10-09T15:02:00.000-07:00

In less than one month, people in various parts of the world will participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Just what is NaNoWriMo? It's one month of writing insanity, in which one attempts to meld 50,000 words into a single document that emerges as a potential novel. Yes, write an entire 175 page novel during the single month of November. Can't be done you say? I beg to differ. Now I'm not vouching for the quality of said novel, but it is doable. Just ask the many NaNo "winners" who reach their 50,000 word goal by November 30, yours truly included.

The primary goal of NaNoWriMo isn't to create a quality novel that can immediately be sent off to be picked up as the next best seller and hailed as Oprah's next book club fave. The goal is to get creatives to put aside their internal editors for a month and just let the words flow. For me, this is a necessary exercise. You see, eleven months out of the year I have this compulsive need to edit as I go, which significantly slows my writing progress and often impedes my creativity. But for one glorious month I actually manage to simply write. Often this carefree attitude carries on for several more months, resulting in work that is imaginative and simply fun to create.

There's also the added benefit of joining write-ins. These are weekly gatherings of writers at set locations to bang out as many words as possible for a set period of time. During our evenings or afternoons together, challenges will be issued and encouragement will be given to keep everyone moving toward their 50,000 word goal. It's a chance to step out of the everyday and simply focus on what we love, creating worlds with words that will hopefully one day be honed to perfection, then read and enjoyed by others.

If you like to write and have never participated in NaNoWriMo, I encourage you to check it out and give it a try. Even if you don't actually achieve the 50,000 word goal, you will not regret bonding with some new writing friends as you let go of that blasted internal editor that threatens to doom a perfectly fabulous story. Care to join me? Go to the National Novel Writing Month website and check it out. I'll be there, adding daily to my word count, chiming in on the forums, and moving forward with freedom through a story limited only by my imagination.

In Praise of Friends

2010-09-12T19:40:00.000-07:00

Recently I was talking to a friend who seems to have an inordinate amount of people in his life who are very self-focused. Let's face it, we all tend to be to some extent, but some people definitely swing more towards self than others. Think fast and I know you can come up with at least one person in your life who has this tendency. I know I do. Hopefully I'm not that person, but there's always that possibility.

These are the people who, if you asked them, couldn't name five things about you, even though they've known you for years. Ask them. Just five things. Tell me if I have siblings, and if they are male or female. Do you know if I've ever been married, and if so how long? Name two cities I've lived in, not counting the one in which you met me. What do I do for a living? Where do I work? What do I do in my spare time, besides write this blog? Name my favorite drink. Do I like animals and do I have a pet? What is my biggest fear? What is my biggest accomplishment? Tell me one thing you like about me, besides the fact that I will listen to you spill your tales of woe for hours on end. There are people I've known for years who would tell you we're good friends, but can't answer even two of those questions about me. Sad, but true.

Then there are the people who are so in tune with me, they know me better than I know myself. For instance, a friend who, when my mom stated I didn't like vegetables, corrected her by clarifying that I don't like most cooked vegetables but instead like them raw. I didn't actually realize that about myself until she stated it. Just a small fact, but something very personal that was noticed and noted. Fortunately, I have more people in my life like this, than those who are self-focused.

I have friends who remember other odd facts as well. Like the friend 2,000 miles away who remembers I have a 3-4 hour meeting every Thursday morning that is usually the low point of my work week. The friend who knows I like getting a surprise limeade in the middle of the day for no reason at all, just because it's my favorite drink. The person who remembers I like all tomato products, but not actual raw tomatoes (the one exception to the raw veggies thing). The friend who knows my favorite type of place to relax and unwind. Or the one who knows I abhor all Nicholas Sparks books and movies. These are the friends I hold near and dear, no matter how many miles or hours separate us.

I like to think I lean more toward being a thoughtful friend rather than a selfish, and have an amazing amount of "friend knowledge" stored in my brain.

Person A has lived and traveled many places in the world, hates seafood, is a sci-fi geek, can tell you who composed almost every soundtrack for every movie, loves cats, can be tender and caring, arranges DVDs by category and alphabetically, is a fabulous freak for grammar and pronunciation, is coolly creative, enjoys reading, and can make awesome pop culture references (there's much more, but I'll stop there).

Person B collects Barbies, loves cats, reads more than me, likes to drink a huge glass of iced tea every day, changes her mind at the drop of a dime, is an awesome gift giver, has a tender soul, wanted to be a nurse at one point, and is from Kentucky (again, there is so much more).

Person C loves to shop for antiques, can be brilliantly snarky, dresses her dog in costumes for halloween, takes life in stride, is colorblind, dares to try new design ideas in her home on her own, and has a great story about how she met her husband (you know by now...there's so much more).

Person D listens to Jimmy Buffett and borders on being a Parrothead, enjoys disc golf and played in Japan, is a OU fan much to my dismay, would give you the shirt off his back, is an artist, can be sweetly sensitive, and is willing to make a fool of himself on the dance floor with me (yep, there's more).

I could go on and on about more people.

I love all my friends, both old and new. I like learning about them and building a relationship that will stand the tests of time and distance. My mom once sent me a quick little e-mail about how blessed I am to have so many good friendships that have lasted. She's right. I may not speak to everyone every day and I may not e-mail as often as I should, but I've developed connections with some very amazing and wonderful people. Let me just take this moment to let those of you who are among my friends and read this blog know...

I love you all dearly, and would not be the person I am today had I not known you and let myself be known by you.

Before you begin to worry about me, rest easy dear ones. I'm just taking a moment to do what we rarely do in life, publicly appreciate those who are important to me, and my hope is that you will take a moment to do the same with those in your life as well.

The Power of Words

2010-08-22T18:12:00.000-07:00

Let's talk words. Nothing is as powerful as the written or spoken word. Sure, you can end a physical life with the cut of a knife, but think of the devastation or the ecstasy the wrong or right word can bring. An innocent e-mail with a flippant remark, read the wrong way makes the recipient wonder about the sender's true intent. A well placed spoken jab can destroy an entire relationship beyond repair in a matter of seconds.

No matter the language, words have the ability to change lives, for the better or worse in an instant. How often have you said something and immediately wished you could take it back? How often have you said something and immediately been glad you did? A moment of intense feeling where the words, “I love you,” are uttered without thinking can move a relationship in a new direction, good and bad. A moment of intense feeling where the words, “I hate you,” are shouted without thinking can annihilate a relationship. That's all it takes. Three small words; so much power.

Then there are the words that sometimes take too long to come forth; the long overdue apologies or inquiries about a tough situation in someone's life. Why do we wait so long? Why are the healing words often harder to utter or write than the ones that bite? We dance around the subject and avoid the person completely, until we are to the point where the words must be said or written if there is any hope of the connection with the person surviving. Leave the words unstated, and watch the relationship unravel. Yes, words keep us connected with one another; whether spoken or written, they bind us. Even when not vocalizing their emotions, people are often described as “speaking” with their eyes or “saying volumes” with a look. Words are important.

In today's world we gravitate towards Facebook, Twitter, and texting. Shorthand forms of communicating, but all created to convey our feelings, actions, adventures, and life in words for the world to see, helping us connect to others over distance and years. Even when adding photos to our online pages, we often add captions, and wait to see if someone will respond with a comment. More words; just usually short and misspelled words.

Gone, for the most part, are the days when people would correspond; sending long missives to one another describing in detail the events of their life or the things on their mind. Now we're lucky if we see something in a mass posting on Facebook updating us on the latest happening. Is it just me who misses getting handwritten letters or cards that have more than just the person's signature inside? And as for e-mails, I like epic tomes from the right person, even if it's only about how they slept too long, cooked eggs for breakfast, cleaned house all day, and decided to go to a movie. I now have a written record of this person's life, their thoughts, how they were feeling on a given day, and know that they thought enough about me personally to sit down and write more than just a few quick lines in a 140 character Twitter blast to the world.

Yes, words are powerful. They connect us, destroy us, help us feel loved, move us to tears, and can make us laugh out loud. No wonder I continue to have an ongoing love affair with words. They are what help us move beyond ourselves to include others in our lives. So how are you using your words today and with whom are you sharing them?

Going Solo at the Farmers Market

2010-08-14T22:08:00.000-07:00

Tonight I stopped in to visit some friends, and it was brought to my attention that it's been two weeks since I last updated my blog. You have my apologies. I was temporarily sidetracked, but rest assured, it won't happen again. You, my dear readers, have my full blogging attention.

If you're a friend of mine on Facebook, you know I spent my morning at my local farmers market. These lovely sunflowers were my absolute favorite find. For weeks I had been looking forward to today's market because it was to be “The Pie Festival,” but in the days leading up to it, I haven't been feeling well (no worries, it's minor and I will live). Imagine how thrilled I was to wake up this morning feeling better than I had in days, and it was a bonus that the weather was near perfection. Looking out my bedroom window, I saw a gentle breeze stirring the leaves in the trees, so I slid the glass open and let the cool air flow over my face as I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of the warm sun. Yes, it was a good day to walk down to the market.

I've been there before with other people and have enjoyed myself immensely, but today was my first trip alone. It won't be the last. There really is something to be said for browsing through a farmers market solo. As I arrived they were beginning the first pie eating contest of the day. I would have stayed to watch the one man and several elderly women battle it out, but I was distracted by a display of lovely plants for only $5. Because I'm notorious for being the world's worst mother-figure ever to plants (they always die a slow, and I'm sure, painful death), I had an empty spot that needed to be filled outside my front door. Hmm, $5 seemed reasonable for a plant that would likely breathe its last within a month, if it was lucky. After quizzing the plant guy for what I'm sure seemed like an eternity to him, I settled on a hosta that I'm hoping will at least survive until winter. The plant guy was so optimistic about the plant's chances of survival, he pointed out there were actually two of them in the pot, and next spring I could move one to its own little pot, giving me two plant babies to try to maintain. Excellent!

My new found plant friends and I wandered along, soaking in the sights and smells, watching the people, and picking up the fresh fruits and vegetables to take in their amazing aromas. My next distraction was a booth that looked like a painting. Flowers. I adore flowers. If I could afford to fill my home and office with fresh flowers every day, I would. Note to any prospective suitors out there, flowers are one way to win my heart (just don't send me roses). I had seen this particular vendor before and knew exactly what I wanted (see the photo of my sunflowers), but they were missing. Disappointed, I decided to pick something else and began weighing my many options. Suddenly, I spotted them. There they were, in a lonely little bucket far behind the tables of flowers, near the vendor's travel trailer. My lovely sunflowers were waiting for me to find them. I'm sure the woman selling them must have thought I was a bit nutty because I was almost giddy when I asked if they were for sale and she confirmed they were. Fifty cents and two sunflowers later, I was once again meandering among the crowd, listening to the live band playing, and watching for my next conquest.

I stopped here and there, hearing stories from the vendors about their wares and telling them I was from Texas when they detected a slight accent and inquired about it (it tends to get stronger when I'm relaxed and engaging people in casual conversation). Then, I saw it; my final purchase destination. Tomorrow is a shared birthday for my mom and stepdad. I never know what to get him, but a pie is always a safe bet. Like a vision on the horizon, there it was, White Box Pies. After several minutes of debate, because choosing between huckleberry and apple is a major life decision, I made my purchase. It was only then that I realized I had only two hands to carry a plant, two sunflowers, a large pie, my keys, and a rather big purse. Because I'm determined and resourceful, I managed to make it home with all intact. Note to self: Next time take your little rolling cart to carry all your treasures.

If you've never been to a farmers market, you really must find one and go. You can't beat the fresh produce and local flavor. If you've been to one, but never alone, I highly recommend it. Going alone gives you time to truly browse the booths you're interested in, talk to vendors at leisure, and meet others shopping at the market. My little rolling cart and I will be making our way through my farmers market the next chance I get.

Got a Minute? Write a Short Story

2010-07-30T20:52:00.000-07:00

Now for something a little different. I'll share an item I wrote based on a posting on the One Minute Writer site for Friday Fiction.

The challenge? Write a short, short story in just one minute. Yes, they actually have a timer. The topic for today? Robots. I accepted, and below is what I came up with in a minute. Think you can do it? Give it a try and see how you do. If you like to write, it's actually a lot of fun. Remember, this was written in a minute, so I'm not claiming this as a good representation of my work. It's just something fun to do if you have a spare minute in your day.

______________________________________________________

"Reset. Yeah, well pushing reset doesn't work. What else?" Sarah tossed the instructions across the desk. "What am I going to do with you?"

The rusting robot simply sat in a heap on the bed. Sarah pulled it onto the cart and rolled it outside to the alley. At this time of night, no one should notice. She propped the robot against a neighbor's fence and wiped her fingerprints, inside and out. Once back inside she hesitated for a moment.

"Nothing else to do I guess." Sarah dialed the number then reached for a tissue. "Hi, I'm calling to report a dumped A6G49. Yes, I know it's illegal to own a model that old. Would I call and report it if it belonged to me? Could you just come pick it up?"

She hung up and stared out the window at the metallic figure in the shadows. "Forgive me my friend."

So Many Books, So Little Time

2010-07-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

I was recently browsing through one of my favorite websites, http://www.goodreads.com/, and was struck by how many wonderful and not so wonderful books I’ve yet to read. Although I’ve already made my way through an impressive number of tomes in my lifetime, there are still so many stories I haven’t had time to explore, so many worlds still undiscovered. How will I get to them all?

If I have one lifelong love in my life, one true thing I could never imagine giving up, it’s books. Just the sight of them in my home evokes a sense of comfort and calm. And when I say they have been a lifelong love, that is no exaggeration. I’ve been reading voraciously since I was a child, and before I knew how to read, my mom read to me. They’ve always been there like an old friend, waiting to teach me, show me new lands, comfort me when I was down, and take my mind off the real world when I needed an escape, even if only for a short while. Long before I learned to “Google it,” I learned that I could find the answer to almost anything in a book in the library. And the smell. Ah, there is nothing so soothing to me as the smell of a used bookstore. My stress level immediately plummets as I walk through the doors.

Technology is wonderful and everyone knows that if I had money to burn I’d be a top notch techno geek with the latest gadgets, but Kindle, Nook, iPad, etc. simply can’t replace my beloved books. Don’t get me wrong, I truly do think e-readers are great. It’s just that I like the feel of a book in my hand. I enjoy the texture of the paper when I turn a page, the weight in my arms when I carry it, the art on the cover (even when it’s bad).

And although I own at least twenty real bookmarks, I grab whatever slip of paper is near when I finish my first reading session, and use it to mark the beginning of my journey. Normally, I don’t give it a second glance until I finished the book. You see, at the end, part of my experience is looking to see what it was that was handy when I started reading so many chapters ago. Marking my progress through books have been photos, notes from friends, ideas for stories of my own, shopping lists, birthday cards, envelopes, expired coupons, the list goes on.

Some people choose to plow their way through book after book, reading as quickly as possible so they can move on to the next. I've never been one of those. I take my time, choosing to savor the moments the author presents to me. I don't like to rush my way through. This isn't a sprint to the finish line, it's a voyage across the ocean. If a friend and I start a book at the same time, I will always reach the end of the tale well behind her. It's not that I can't read quickly, it's that I choose not to when it comes to novels. And if I’m truly enjoying a book, I will slow down even more as I near the end, postponing the inevitable day when I read the last word and have to say goodbye to the characters and world that have entertained me for so many hours.

As I browsed through Goodreads today, marking books I’ve read and rating them, I found it interesting how many genres I’ve enjoyed over the years and how many have been made into movies that I’ve never seen. My taste in books has always been very eclectic, which makes it difficult when someone asks me what I like to read. I can’t pin it down for them because it depends on my mood. I can tell you that once I’ve read a book, it’s very hard for me to bring myself to watch the celluloid version of it. I’ve done it a few times, and have almost always been disappointed. Inevitably characters are left out, scenes are changed, themes have morphed, or entirely new storylines have been added. Nothing ever compares to the world or the characters as I imagined them in my mind.

So why this long blog about my love of books? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s just that Goodreads has me longing for the days of my youth when I could spend an entire summer reading my way through every type of book. Now it seems that life gets in the way. Back then, nothing kept me from my love. I spent my summers living a very active life, but I also spent them falling in love with heroes, being frightened out of my wits by ghosts, living on the prairie and battling the wilds, being abducted by pirates, and more. Could it be that there are simply too many distractions today? Maybe one day I’ll experiment by going off the grid to see if doing without television, internet, texting, etc. frees up time for unlimited reading. I wonder if I can do it? Hmmm... now there is something to think about.

In the meantime, with the help of Goodreads, I’m making a long list of books I hope to someday experience. If you have any suggestions for recent must reads, send them my way and I'll add it to my list, try to read it this summer and let you know what I thought.

A Lovely July 4

2010-07-05T10:26:00.000-07:00

I’ve always wanted to live someplace where I could sit on my porch or in my yard and watch a huge fireworks display on Independence Day. So it isn’t a big dream, but it’s been one of my small, wish list kind of things that has now come true. Last night the town I live in put on a wonderful fireworks display over the lake near my condo, and surprise, it was visible from my balcony. Hooray! We watched all evening as a steady stream of cars and pedestrians made their way up the road toward the park where live music was playing (yes, we could hear it while sitting outside). At one point we thought about walking to the park and sitting with everyone, but the homemade Swiss, bacon burgers and caramel apple pie we ate earlier made us a little lazy and the chairs on my balcony were oh so comfortable.

The show started right on time as I was chatting with a neighbor who was wandering the grounds below us. She raced to a nearby knoll to see the amazing view, while we “oohed” and “aahed” from above her. It was spectacular. Can fireworks be anything else? And next to the lovely display and spending time with my family, the best part for me was knowing that I wouldn’t have to fight traffic or drive for hours to get home. Once the awesomeness was over, I stepped inside and poured myself another limeade. This is how life should be all the time.

I tried to get photos, but this was my first time taking fireworks pics and I chose the wrong setting in all the excitement. Since I was holding the camera off to one side and randomly clicking off shots so I could enjoy watching the display, this is the best I got. I eventually realized most of my shots were of the dark sky because my hand had wandered upward, and so I gave up completely. Why try to capture it in a photo when I could just sit back and enjoy the moment?

So that’s how I spent my July 4 evening. I hope yours was just as wonderful.

Chicken Success Tastes So Good!

2010-06-28T12:36:00.000-07:00

I have successfully cooked my first whole chicken using the Technique Chicken Roaster! Yahoo!

As you can see, it actually looks edible. It was moist, tender and the seasonings I picked were perfect (garlic, onion, Serendipity, Mrs. Dash). I did have a minor miscommunication with my oven at one point (we’re still getting to know one another), but we worked things out and the chicken was yummy.

I invited my very brave mom and stepdad over for dinner to try it out with me, and I’m happy to report that they not only survived the experience, but enjoyed it. As a side dish, I made a lovely pasta salad using my Fasta Pasta cooker (see previous post). This was also a first for me. For those who don’t know, cooking with success is a feat. I am so untalented in the kitchen, a few months ago I managed to slice my thumb open with a butter knife, requiring five stitches and sending me into shock as I drove myself to the emergency room. The thumb is still mostly numb, providing a wonderful reminder of what not to do with knives and frozen items.

So there you have it. My first successful whole chicken. Now that I know how easy it is and that I can do it, you can bet there will be more roasted chickens in my future.

Best Inventions Ever

2010-06-24T21:36:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me well knows I love food, but I’m not the best cook. I could use a few lessons… or a few hundred lessons. The problem is that I have no confidence in the kitchen and some of it seems downright tedious. I’ve been surrounded by wonderful cooks my entire life – my mom, grandmas, aunt, even my ex-husband. They all knew how to serve love on a plate. Me, not so much. Oh, some of them tried to teach me, to no avail. I psyched myself out and was content to just enjoy the fruits of their labor and help clean up the mess.

Lately though, I’ve found myself wanting to learn to cook actual grown up meals. Fortunately, my mom has been cluing me in to items that make even incompetent, unconfident, hate to spend enormous amounts of time in the kitchen me able to make something I wouldn’t be completely embarrassed to serve. They are, as I tell my friends, “the best inventions ever.” I know several foodies. If any of them are still reading this blog, they will probably laugh at this post. Go ahead, I can take it. I know I’m a baby in the kitchen and I’m celebrating my first steps. It’s OK.

My favorite “best invention ever” is my rice cooker with a steamer in the top. I absolutely love this amazing appliance. I’ve never been able to cook rice properly and now I can not only do it with ease, but I can add fish, chicken, pork, and veggies in the steamer and create an entire meal by pressing one button. Even I can’t mess that one up! Alright, I’ll admit there was one time when I did way over season my salmon, but other than that, I’ve cooked many perfect meals with my best invention ever rice cooker.

My second “best invention ever” is my Fasta Pasta cooker. I still haven’t decided if the two words are supposed to sound alike, and if so, are they supposed to be said with a Jersey accent or a slight British accent. Give it a try and let me know. Either way, I love this little rectangle container made of plastic. It allows me to cook perfect pasta in my microwave. I’ve made ravioli, penne, rotini, rigatoni, angel hair, egg noodles, shells, spaghetti, and macaroni all perfectly, without exception. I adore pasta, so this was a perfect gift. No more guessing if the pasta is done. Measure it out, fill the container with water to the proper line, set the microwave to the correct time and work on other items while it cooks to perfection. Take it out, pop the lid on (which has a handy, dandy strainer built in), drain the water, and there you have it; perfect pasta.

Today I came home to find a new gift in my condo, left by my mom. It’s a Technique Chicken Roaster, or as my mom calls it, a beer can chicken cooker. At first glance it looks like a big, heavy duty chip and dip holder. In fact, that’s what my brother in Texas thought his was until mom cleared it up for him. It’s all one piece, has a cylinder in the center that holds liquid, and the rest is a big ring to catch the chicken grease I’m assuming. I’ve never attempted cooking a whole chicken as an adult (there was an incident as a teen, but we won’t go there), so this is exciting and a little scary. And hooray for me, Safeway has whole chickens on sale this week, so I’m going to buy two and try to cook one on Saturday. I don’t know what liquid I’ll put in the center, I’ve been told I have lots of options. So wish me luck as I try out the chicken roaster to see if it rates being added to my list of “best inventions ever.” My mom hasn’t been wrong with anything yet, so I’m guessing this one will be a winner as well.

I'm Back!

2010-06-03T20:02:00.001-07:00

It’s been almost a full year since I’ve posted anything. By now I’m sure everyone has given up on me and moved on with their lives. Sadly, I’ve realized the world truly does not revolve around me. Let me have a moment… OK. I can continue.

It’s been a busy year. I finally found a wonderful little condo with a lovely view of hills and trees (the photo below is my view). It’s exactly what I needed, and not a day goes by that I don’t gaze out in wonder or walk through my door and thank God for the blessing. Of course the condo has its quirks, but don’t we all. The fact is that it’s just the right size for me and has some of the top features I was looking for in a home. I’m happy.

If you read my post about kissing frogs last year, you’ll know my search was interesting. In fact, I drove two real estate agents to the brink. Thank you Mike Gleason for hanging in there with me! I know I was challenging. I made offers on three places. The first I backed out of when they countered; it just didn’t feel right. The second felt right, but… umm… well… the sellers used a loophole to renege on the deal they accepted. Bad deal, shame on them, ‘nuff said. The third was my condo. Of course there was much angst over whether or not to make offers on several other places before the cute condo, but that special feeling just wasn’t there.

With the new condo came a new town. I moved to the other side of the world, or so it has seemed at times. I’ve had to learn where familiar stores are in my new hood, changed where I attend church, and have been busy making new friends. I haven’t ditched my old friends and haunts, but living where I do has definitely expanded some horizons.

In addition to all of this, my new niece is now almost a year old and I also have a new nephew who arrived a month early in April. Sadly he’s in Texas, but I have plans to meet him in person someday soon. Yeah, the blog about that trip will be one to remember. More details about that later.

So life moves on, even if a blog doesn’t. Perhaps I’ll be a little more faithful to posting now that I have a view to inspire me to write and new lands to explore for cool photographs. Who knows where life will lead, but I will do my best to keep you updated.

Happy Birthday!

2009-07-17T09:20:00.000-07:00

If you know me well and spend any amount of time with me May-July, you know that yesterday was my birthday. You will know this tidbit because I will begin talking about my birthday two months before it actually arrives. I love my birthday.

It isn’t that anything absolutely spectacular happens on my birthday, in fact, most birthdays are quite normal. Nor do I expect cards, gifts and flowers from everyone (although those are nice perks). So most people wonder, why would someone my age be so happy about turning over another year? Shouldn’t I have grown out of this by now? Why would I look forward to moving from one age bracket on forms to another that puts me firmly in middle age territory? Why would I want to admit that time is passing, whether I like it or not?

Usually people tell me their birthday is just another day or they dread the day because it just makes them feel older. My question to all you birthday haters and to everyone who chooses to simply ignore the day is this, why wouldn’t you love your birthday? It’s the day you entered the world and officially began your journey. It’s the day God specifically chose for you to begin transforming the world around you, merely with your presence. Isn’t that a good reason to celebrate the day?

As I’ve aged and life has thrown some fairly tough things at me, I’ve found that I’ve become more cynical and don’t trust as easily or quickly as I used to. I’ve lost my positive, “dive in without looking because it’s all going to work out” attitude and I’m often accused of being overly cautious. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that I know the day I was born is special. I know the day you were born is special. I know if you or I weren’t here, the world would be a much different place and we have no idea how far reaching the changes would be.

So the fact that I was born several years ago yesterday is a big deal. It’s worthy of taking the day off from work and giving myself the gift of time. It’s worthy of spending it with family and friends. It’s my day. Good or bad, God chose that day to bring me here to change things, even in small ways. I definitely think that’s reason to be happy, enjoy it and celebrate.

Dillon, Montana

2009-07-15T20:04:00.001-07:00

Last month I traveled to Blackfoot, Idaho to meet my week old niece. She was, of course, beautiful and perfect. The trip from Spokane to Blackfoot takes a little over nine hours, unless you happen to stop in Dillon, Montana for ice cream and realize you have a nail in your tire; then it takes about ten hours.

There is no doubt we were being watched over that day, because had we gone on without knowing about the nail, we likely would have had a flat tire in the middle of nowhere Montana. The side trip for ice cream was a sudden decision and it was a miracle we saw the nail before getting back in the car to travel on. As it was, we were able to find a local Les Schwab and relaxed while the nail was removed and the tire was fixed.

Prior to this unexpected stop, my experience with Montana had been limited to traveling through the state at record speeds. I was at the end of a long journey from Texas with a confused cat in the back seat of my truck and the bed of my truck loaded with all my worldly possessions. All I wanted was to reach my destination of Spokane, Washington that day, and I thought Montana seemed endless. I wasn’t a big fan of the state.

But my impressions of Montana all those years ago were wrong. It’s a beautiful state, and although it does take quite a while to drive through, you really can’t beat the mountains, trees, rivers and more. However, what I liked most were the people. As we hung out at the tire shop, I watched locals deal with their own tire issues. I felt like I had arrived home. Cowboy boots, blue jeans, cowboy hats, and even some actual accents with a hint of a drawl. I had found my people! They were nice, friendly and for a brief moment, I felt as if I was home. Sadly, I this is the only picture I took in Dillon. Trust me; it looks much better than this.

I’m not ready to move to Montana, but I now know it’s a wonderful state to drive through and an even better place to stop and rest during a long trip. I should have known Montana would be high on the Texas cool meter; some of the best people I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know in the northwest are from Montana.

Where is Spring?

2009-04-04T19:06:00.001-07:00

I drove around Spokane today, looking for spring but found no evidence of it other than a little sunshine. While that is progress and a big improvement over the snow we had earlier in the week, I'm ready to see some color. Below are two photos I took in my office. Hopefully soon I'll be taking photos like this outside.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

2009-03-22T20:56:00.001-07:00

Lately I’ve become interested in signs; no, not the kind of signs that involve famine, pestilence, earthquakes, etc. I’m talking about road signs. I recently took a day trip to a small town in Washington and was greeted by the following sign as we entered.

Really? When did we give up on trying to stop people from drinking and driving? Now we just warn everyone to watch out for the drunk drivers like we warn them about ice on the road? This seems so wrong. I was even more worried when I got further into town and saw a building that proclaimed it was the Town Hall Pub. Aha! No wonder they have a sign warning visitors about drunk drivers on the road.

But that wasn’t the only interesting sign I came across. I was intrigued by the ones that advised people they had to wear their seat belts both day and night. Sorry I don’t have a picture, but if you’re in Washington, just take a look at the signs on the highway. I guess I just assumed the law covered both day and night. I wonder how many people went to court arguing that it wasn’t specific enough? And did people assume the law didn’t apply to daytime or to evenings? There must have been quite a few for them to go along the highway adding this to every seat belt sign (yes, it’s tacked on under the original portion of the sign).

But this is the Washington state sign that really had me pondering the consequences.

Oh my! And they said Texas’ litter signs sounded too tough (Don’t mess with Texas). At least we weren’t overtly threatening violence and pain. Do they break one finger for your first offense, two for your second and so on? Maybe they just give you a good swift kick in the pants. Whatever the punishment, it was enough to make me hold onto my trash until I was home and could dispose of it without retribution.

I’m going to keep my eyes open for other intriguing signs. If you see a good one, let me know or send me a picture.

Kissing Frogs

2009-03-18T12:36:00.001-07:00

A couple of people have complained that I'm not updating my blog often enough. Yippee! People are reading and they care. I'll admit, I have been a slacker lately and I promise to post regularly from this point forward. I also promise that not all future posts will be about house browsing. Once spring arrives and I find things that catch my attention, you will see more photos taken by me as well. Now, with all that said, let's move on to what is on my mind today.

Of course it has to do with house browsing because that has been the focus of my attention this week. I've realized there is so much to pay attention to when looking at houses, not just with the house itself, but also the surrounding area. Does it have bus stop in front of it? Is it on a high traffic street? Is there an apartment building next door? Is the neighbor's yard filled with cars or is their yard well maintained? Is it across the street from a high school? Is it on a corner lot? Are there extremely large trees in jeopardy of falling on the house? Is it directly behind a liquor store (yes, I did drive by one that was - note the words drive by, not stopped by)? The number of things to consider is dizzying. Yes, I'm fully aware that I fret too much and some things can be overlooked if it's the right house.

I've also realized that as a single income person (not a large single income), I can only afford homes within a certain price range. Further, it seems that all the houses within my price range are "special" in some way. I expect some uniqueness and I expect to have a few items I'll have to repair or pretty up, but the degree of specialness I've seen lately is causing me to doubt my search for my future dwelling place. You know you're in trouble when the real estate agent gets to the house first and greets you at the door by saying, "Let's go see the next house." My mom is still wondering just how bad that one was; I've moved on.

Searching for the right house is much like searching for Mr. Right. As we all know, you sometimes have to kiss a lot of frogs first. Apparently I'm deep into the frog kissing stage of this house thing. For those who may want to chastise me and tell me that no man and no house are perfect, I realize that. I'm not looking for the perfect house (or the perfect man), but I am looking for the one that is perfect for me. You may say they are one and the same, I say that's not true. When I say I'm looking for the one that is perfect for me, I'm saying I know there will be flaws and there will goofy things that others will find annoying, but for me and my personality, it will suit me and be endearing and achieve near perfection in my eyes.

So the browsing continues. I know I'm probably driving my mom, step dad, and real estate agent crazy but I really can't help it. The right frog that will turn into an enchanted cottage hasn't come along yet. When it does, I will know it, and I will see beyond the warts and rough exterior to the beautiful life I will build inside its walls.

Quirky

2009-03-03T21:48:00.000-08:00

We’re all a little quirky, and some would say I’m the queen of quirk, but I’ve discovered there are people out there who might be quirkier than I. For instance, during my recent house browsing, I've been amazed at what people have chosen to do with their homes. Odd things such as adding on a very narrow enclosed space that runs the width of the back of a house, covering up several large windows and adding only one tiny window and a door. Now the large windows look into a narrow, dark room with a concrete floor. What is the purpose of this area? I have no idea.

And then there is the house that has a huge backyard with plenty of room for enlarging the square footage of the house, but the owners chose instead to increase their bedroom size in their driveway. Yes, they blocked their only access to parking their car in the garage in favor of a larger bedroom and closet. So now they have a driveway that goes through their bedroom. Really. It disappears under the house and reemerges on the other side.

One of my personal favorites is the very small house (750 sq. ft.) with three dining rooms. OK. Maybe not all three areas are actually dining rooms, but they've placed dining room type lighting fixtures in the rooms and they hang awfully low. You enter the house through the front door and are in the living room. Turn to your right and there's the first dining room area. Walk to this area and look to your left, there is another dining room area. Beyond that is the kitchen which has a bar that looks out onto, yes, another dining room area. What amused me most was the marketing verbiage. "Plenty of dining space for cozy family dinners!" You've got that right.

But the grand daddy of all quirkiness has to be the house I visited on Sunday. This was truly an OMG! moment. This house is just down the street from my mom's and I've often wondered what it looked like inside. You see, from the outside it had, since I've lived in Spokane, looked like a homemade fortress patched together with corrugated metal, plywood, and chicken wire; quite a thing to behold, I assure you, especially inside city limits. But last year, something happened to the residents. An estate sale was held (I wasn't brave enough to go) and someone attempted to clean up the yard and put new siding on the front portion of the house (just the front and part of two sides). They also replaced the front door so I assumed that they had worked on the inside to prep it for sale. When I saw that they were holding an open house, I raced to my mom and talked her into walking up the street to have a look. The pictures I've included do not do it justice (see below).

The owners were apparently fond of electric blue and painted all of the inside this eye popping color in various shades (floor to ceiling blue, cabinets blue, carpet blue, everything blue). On the living room wall is a very large mural of an ocean scene and they attached an equally large wooden boat structure to it. The lucky new owner gets to keep it for free. The bedrooms and bathroom were old, electric blue and quirky but nothing compared to the "bonus" room the owners had added on without bothering with the legalities of permits, inspections, and what not.

So you walk into the house and you're in the living room facing a bank of windows (which you see once you stop looking at the large mural and boat). If you go further into the room, you'll see the electric blue kitchen to your left with its own bank of windows. Both sets of large windows look directly into the "bonus" room which is two stories tall. Talk about vaulted ceilings! There is no backyard to be seen from this view, only blue carpet, plywood walls, odd wooden pilings, and two strange concrete squares. It’s about the size of a basketball court. I felt sorry for the poor real estate salesman. He really was giving it his best shot and offered that this might make a good day care. Um, yeah. I don't think so. But points for creativity.

The owners had apparently built the room as a place for their grandchildren to play. In one of the odd square concrete areas, they had once had a tall tank with a wooden structure the kids could climb onto so they could dive into the tank. No safety issues there. The other concrete square used to hold a hot tub. There were two or three sets of handmade wooden ladders that led to platforms high above the vivid blue carpet and concrete squares. A basketball hoop adorned one wall, although I don't know how they kept from knocking the plywood walls down when making shots. Maybe they were just very good.

It was shocking. There was a finished basement, but Mom and I were so entranced by the "bonus" room that we never made it to the basement. OK, maybe there was a bit of fear involved too. This was the ultimate in quirkiness. I have to really wonder what people are thinking sometimes, but then I look at my own life and I see things that, if I were to disappear suddenly today, would make people wonder.

We’re all a little quirky, and most of the time I think that’s a good thing; however, when you’re trying to sell your house, you probably don’t want your quirkiness to come through. But then again, they say there is something for everyone out there. Perhaps there is someone who is looking for an odd narrow room, a garage with no driveway, three dining rooms in a small house, or a plywood bonus room with retro blue carpet. I’m sure the place I ultimately end up living in will have a bit of quirk as well. The difference will be that I will think it’s charming simply because it's mine. That's the nice thing about being quirky, there's always someone who thinks it's loveable.

If you have a quirky feature you’ve added to your house and you’re willing to admit it, I’d love to hear about it. E-mail me or comment below.

House Browsing

2009-02-14T22:46:00.000-08:00

Some of you know I've been house browsing lately, trying to make up my mind about whether or not I can afford a house and whether or not it's the right time to buy. For the past month there have been three contenders (for what I can afford), but I noticed tonight that one has been taken off the listings. I knew this house would be removed soon because the owner indicated he would rent it if no one showed an interest in buying it, but still I was surprised and it made me a little sad. What if one of these houses is the best I can do? And if it is, I'm sad because the happiest house of the three is now out of contention.

What do I mean by happiest house? As I've walked through houses I've noticed they each have a feeling about them. The happy house felt loved. It felt as if it had protected and provided warmth to people who cared about each other and about the house. It's hard to explain and maybe it sounds a little kooky, but places do have vibes. For instance, the house next door to me is up for sale so I had a Realtor walk me through. Ugh. By the time I was done I wanted to cry. The feeling was heavy, dark and full of despair. It wouldn't matter how much they came down in price, I would never buy the place. One of my contenders, the biggest and the one with the most to offer, felt sad. My mom went to see it with me and she described it as heartbroken; very appropriate. It's a perfectly good house, but it feels as if there was an extended period of sadness inside and as if the house itself hasn't been truly loved for a very long time. My third contender is a tiny house that feels a little unsure. It's been redone very nicely inside, so maybe it just hasn't gotten used to its new look.

I know some of you may think I'm a little crazy to say that an empty house has an atmosphere left over from its previous life, but I know I'm right. There is a feeling that lingers in the air. Years ago I was searching for an apartment. I took an afternoon off work on a whim and visited three complexes. The first two were huge disappointments (one was run down, the other was too small, both felt dismal), but the third was pure perfection. I walked in the door and knew I had found my new home. It embraced me with comfort and felt secure. The deal was sealed when I opened the blinds in the dining room and saw two doves in a tree next to the window. It was the perfect place for me at the time. I'm looking for that feeling again. I'm probably hesitating with these houses because they haven't felt like home. The house I buy doesn't have to be perfect, but it does have to be perfect for me. It needs to feel happy, secure, and loved. So the house browsing will continue. I just have to have faith that the right place is out there.

I'm Overruling Phil

2009-02-02T19:52:00.001-08:00

It's Ground Hog Day and good old Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, signaling six more weeks of winter. Nooooo! Say it isn't so! Please make the snow that fell in December and January go away. It's still piled high in my yard and along the side of the road.

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for spring so I'm overruling Phil's decision. I'm going to counter him with photos I've taken of spring flowers from days gone by. Maybe this will ward off more snow, ice, and cold. Maybe it will help usher in warmth, sunshine, and color. There's always hope. Even if the photos don't bring spring to us more quickly, at least they will remind us that it will eventually get here, even if it does take six more weeks.

A Lesson in Creative Slanket Misuse

2009-01-16T19:54:00.001-08:00

What do you buy someone who appears to have everything they need and want (within your price range), is always cold (whether winter or summer), and has a tendency to wear coats in the house (even though the ambient temperature is 70)? A Slanket®, of course! Or at least that's what I bought my step-dad for Christmas this year.

And exactly what is a Slanket? Not to be confused with the Snuggie® knock-off, it's basically a fleece blanket with sleeves. The idea is that you can cover up with it and still have your arms free for reading, changing the channel on your television, talking on the phone and more. Sort of a backwards robe without a tie. Here's a picture of my step-dad, Albert, and his Slanket as it's supposed to be used.

But in the right creative hands, the Slanket has another use too. If you can convince someone you know or someone you would like to know to play along, you can have a Slanket for two by simply putting your heads through the sleeves. Now I'm sure the Slanket people never intended for it to be used this way, but when you look at the picture and really think about it, it's a great idea. They could go to a game, slip the Slanket sleeves over their heads, snuggle up together and stay toasty warm from neck to toe. Brilliant! Kudos to Albert! Here he is with my mom.

It's a simple lesson in creativity; take something and put your own twist on it. Just about everyone has done it at one time or another. My mom does it all the time when cooking. A friend does it with songs when singing. Another does it when she decorates her house with flea market treasures. Is there something in your life that you misuse for the good?

Perhaps sadly for me, I've always tended to be a rule follower. If the instructions tell me to use something one way, I am very likely going to use it that one way. If the recipe calls for exactly 1 tsp of something, you can bet solid money that I'm going to put exactly 1 tsp in, no more and no less. I wish I was more of a rule breaker, a rebel with my head in a sleeve, but I'm not. That doesn't mean I'm not creative, or at least I hope it doesn't. It does mean that I probably need to lighten up just a little. I think my goal for the coming week will be to find a creative use for at least one thing in my life. If I can come up with something really good, I'll post it.

The Real Us in Photos

2009-01-11T20:18:00.000-08:00

The piles and piles of snow we’ve had in Spokane since December 17 prevented us from celebrating Christmas with my 91 year old grandma on December 25. Not only was it very difficult to get to the home where she lives, but even if we had, there was no way she could have walked on the snowy, icy walkways. So we waited until this past Saturday and decided to have “Second Christmas.”

Her gifts were wrapped and waiting. Mine to her was a memory book I created online, filled with recently taken family photos. I was careful to put names beneath the pictures in large type I knew she could read; however, this didn’t stop her from getting some of the names of the people in the photos wrong.

Mom and I have noticed that even though she sees herself in mirrors, because of her dementia, she often forgets that she’s aged. So when she flipped through the photo book, she repeatedly thought pictures of my mom were her (even though my mom looks nothing like my grandma did when she was 62). In my grandma’s mind, she’s still a spry young thing. There have been many times she’s caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and has been shocked she no longer has red hair (from what I understand, she hasn’t had red hair since she was a girl).

I think we all have a distorted view of ourselves in some way. I have a hard time seeing my true weight in the mirror and I’m often shocked when I see photos. A friend forgets she’s in her 50’s and is surprised to see subtle little wrinkles in photographs. Another always thinks she’s taller than photos reveal her to be. And a male friend is convinced something is wrong with all cameras in the world because he couldn’t possibly have the bald spot that shows up in his photos.

I often wonder what makes us have these distorted views of ourselves and why photographs seem to reveal the truth. We all look at ourselves in mirrors every day, yet many of us are shocked when we see photographs. How did we all get magical mirrors that conceal the flaws we fear the most? Why don’t we see who we really are, not who we would like to be?

Ultimately, my grandma is one of the happiest people I know. In her mind she’s still very youthful and still has that red hair. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Here Comes the Sun

2009-01-08T20:58:00.000-08:00

I saw the sun today. It was 4:10pm and I had just started my car to head home. To my right, the trees across the street were highlighted in vibrant shades of gold and red as if they were on fire. I tried to get some pictures, but because my office is on a busy street and the sun was fading fast, this was the best I could do between cars driving past.

We’re slowly thawing out and the claustrophobia I was feeling because of all the snow is starting to ease. I no longer feel trapped by something far beyond my control. At work, the roof may be leaking, we may have cracks in the walls, and the snow piles may still be just over 7 feet tall in front of our windows, but the sun came out in all its wonderful glory and that made it feel as if everything is going to be OK after all. Of course it is. Life goes on and the sun always comes out eventually.

Nostalgia

2009-01-05T22:09:00.000-08:00

I recently watched a news program that proclaimed people are growing more nostalgic and seeking out things from their past and beyond. Dance halls are filling with young and old doing the west coast swing, lindy hop, and waltz. People are frequenting stores that specialize in soft drinks and candy from days gone by. Sales for traditional board games are up as much as 26%. I believe it. When times get tough, I long for something familiar and comforting.

Several people on the program were asked what one thing they would like to see return from the past. The longed for included cozy bookstores, handwritten letters, and old television shows such as The Dick Van Dyke Show and Gilligan’s Island. All of these are slower, quieter, a little more relaxing than the glaring, blaring, in your face things of today. A big box bookstore just isn’t the same as one that is locally owned, where hidden treasures await you and the owner knows your name. Can you really compare a handwritten note or card to a text message that that includes the line “btw, where r u?” And although there are some funny modern sitcoms out there, I’d pick Rob and Laura from The Dick Van Dyke Show over any present day sitcom couple.

After much consideration, I decided on the thing I would bring back and make popular again if I could; music from the 60’s and 70’s. I think some of the best music in modern history was written and performed during this time, and they are the songs that make up the soundtrack for my childhood. I was fortunate enough to have grown up surrounded by a good variety of music, so it wasn’t just rock but country and other types as well. I think it shaped my appreciation for all types of music today. Through good times and bad, the music from this era defined moments in my life, told stories I could only imagine, broadened my thoughts, and helped make me who I am today. There are some songs from this era that I could do with never hearing again, but there are so many more that are classics worthy of being brought back. Some of my favorites, even today, bring a feeling of comfort and calm to me.

So that’s what I would bring back if I could. What would you bring back? What from your past gives you a sense that all is right with the world? What is the one thing that makes you feel like you just snuggled under your favorite blanket with a warm cup of hot chocolate? I’d really love to know. Post a comment or send me an e-mail.

This is What Happens

2009-01-05T22:05:00.001-08:00

What happens when I get bored shoveling snow, looking at snow, thinking about snow, worrying about snow? I start trying to take pictures of objects inside my house. Below are a few I took today. I usually stick to objects outside, so these are a departure for me.

Shut Down

2009-01-04T18:48:00.001-08:00

I had such high hopes for January 5. It was going to be the day I finally got to go back to work; the first time in three weeks I actually worked five days in a row. But as the famous line from the poem goes, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Work has been canceled again due to snow. Ugh.

But this is my year to be positive, so here’s my spin.

Operations have been suspended because the sheriff closed all the schools and colleges, not because our building is unsafe. I’ve been told that the roof of our building was cleared on Friday and the building is safe for us to return to… someday. Tomorrow I will be outside in the crisp, fresh air getting more much needed exercise. I will also have time to work on a few things at home that need to be done.

We’ll see what Tuesday brings. Until then, I’ll just keep shoveling, writing, and taking pictures. Here's another I took in my front yard.
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A Sunny Winter Day

2009-01-02T14:53:00.001-08:00

After watching the noon news and seeing that more business roofs had collapsed, I looked out the window and saw blue sky and sunshine. It was a wonderful reminder that all is not bad. There is beauty in the midst of disaster. So I took my new camera out for a few pictures around the house.

Blue sky! Woohoo!

This little guy was very busy putting holes in my telephone pole. Probably not a good thing, but he sure was cute. Can you see him in all the brown on the pole?

Practicing close shots with the new camera.

This was taken from the end of my driveway facing up the hill.

And this was facing down the hill. As much as I hate shoveling the snow after the plows go by, I'm really grateful they have been plowing our hill regularly.

More blue sky; a very welcome sight.

Berries (life) in the snow.

Sunshine through the trees. Yahoo!

Black Eyed Peas and Good Luck

2009-01-01T17:46:00.001-08:00

In Texas we have a tradition of eating plenty of black eyed peas on January 1 in order to have good fortune the rest of the year. I’ve done this most of my life. There were a couple of years when I was convinced that eating the peas actually brought me a bit of bad luck and I stopped, but we all know that’s just silly. Right? The peas can't bring luck, good or bad, can they? Why take the chance? Whether they do or don’t, I ate the peas today and enjoyed them. I love family traditions.

I hope everyone was able to indulge in their own family traditions today and hope 2009 brings all of you good fortune, whether you eat the peas or not.

A New Year, A New Blog

2008-12-31T18:09:00.000-08:00

So here I go with my new blog. This isn’t the first one I’ve done, but it is the only one that is simply about what is happening in my life and things that are on my mind. I've been inundating my out of state friends and family with a constant stream of e-mails about the happenings in Spokane. Rather than continuing to fill your in boxes, y'all can come here and check out what is going on.

Today is the final day of 2008. I hear echoes of people everywhere shouting, “Hallelujah!” Personally, I have high hopes for 2009. This will be the year I finish my book and let people read it (really). It will be the year I lose a little weight and exercise a little more regularly (I’m shooting for healthy, not skinny). I will increase my savings and decrease my debt. Most importantly, I will make a huge effort to look at the positive side of every situation and work on being more optimistic. Wish me luck!

Now for an update. For those who don’t know, yesterday provided a little excitement at work when a roof guy who was there to check out the snow level on our roof told us to leave the building immediately. OK. First, when you tell a group of women they have to leave a building immediately, the word immediately becomes relative. Second, a solitary man is no match for a group of bull-headed women on a mission. While he was afraid of the roof falling on our heads, we were worried about the photos and priceless treasures that decorated our offices. So we began packing our valuables into bags and boxes. Poor roof guy, I know he thought we were crazy. But at the time, it seemed very reasonable to us that we needed to find boxes and bags for our things. We even took the time to box up the pictures and mementos in our vacationing boss’s office. It was only once we were outside that we thought perhaps we should have also grabbed some files and important documents. I asked if I could go back in, but roof guy said no. In case you’re wondering what I deemed important enough to risk my life, here’s a picture of the items.

A Texas flag, Texas magnet, Texas saying on a board, Texas bluebonnet plaque (I sense a theme), an angel snow globe, vitamin C (cuz it isn’t like I could buy that anywhere), assorted toys (slinky, squishy ball, etc), photographs I’ve taken, and a purple dinosaur named Petunia. What would you save from your place of business if given only a minute to clear out?

Fortunately for everyone in Spokane, today gave us very little snow and highs above freezing. Yahoo! We still have snow next to the driveway piled higher than my head, but it is a little shorter than it was yesterday. Tomorrow we’re expecting another big round of snow. Since tomorrow is the first day of the year and one of my goals is to be positive and optimistic, I’m going to close today’s entry with this: The city plows have done an excellent job of keeping the street in front of my house clear and I’m grateful. The snow is giving me a chance to exercise and get a little fresh air during a time when I would otherwise be bundled up on the couch watching a movie or reading, eating something fattening. I’ve actually lost a couple of pounds with all the shoveling. So there you go.

Happy 2009 everyone!