The Power of Words

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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!

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!

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

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.