Long Hollow

What Do You Worry About?

 

The older I get, the less I worry. 

That doesn't mean I don't worry. Just that I'm beginning to realize worry doesn't help anything.

Prayer does, so the older I get, the more I pray.... that God will show me what I can do to help the situation, and if there's nothing I can do, to help me step back and let him take care of things.

...And that no matter what, I never lose hope.

When I do worry, it's about my kids... our finances... Tom's health... um... I think that's it. Next to those, nothing else seems to matter that much.

Oh, I pray about much more than that... issues that my friends and family are dealing with... social problems in the world... but I'm talking about that knotted up, gray-cloud-of-despair, helpless type of worry.

I recently came across this list that author F. Scott Fitzgerald gave to his 11-year-old daughter, Scottie, in 1933.  

Things to worry about:

Worry about courage
Worry about cleanliness
Worry about efficiency
Worry about horsemanship

Things not to worry about: 

Don’t worry about popular opinion
Don’t worry about dolls
Don’t worry about the past
Don’t worry about the future
Don’t worry about growing up
Don’t worry about anybody getting ahead of you
Don’t worry about triumph
Don’t worry about failure unless it comes through your own fault
Don’t worry about mosquitoes
Don’t worry about flies
Don’t worry about insects in general
Don’t worry about parents
Don’t worry about boys
Don’t worry about disappointments
Don’t worry about pleasures
Don’t worry about satisfactions

Things to think about: 

What am I really aiming at? 
How good am I really in comparison to my contemporaries in regard to:

(a) Scholarship
(b) Do I really understand about people and am I able to get along with them? 
(c) Am I trying to make my body a useful instrument or am I neglecting it? 

With dearest love,

Daddy

I don't agree with him on all of the items (horsemanship?), but I do on quite a few (especially the "nots") and like that he divided it between things we have control over and things we don't.

I wish I'd had the forethought to give my kids a list like this when they were younger. 

They probably wouldn't have listened to me, though.

I wonder if F. Scott's daughter listened to him? Probably not. We all seem to have to learn the hard way, right?

So... what do you worry about? 

 

Flowers for Leontien (and other Sweet!s)

June 3 will mark the 4th anniversary of my first blog post.

I started blogging because, as I write in my "About" section up above...

"Diaries, letters, and scrapbooks became journals, writing classes and essays became Long Hollow (and a few fictional works in progress...) 

But come to find out, what started as an outlet for my journaling and writing needs also satisfied this desire inside of me to connect with people. I was the kind of kid who wrote letters to everyone I knew and wanted tons of pen pals all around the world.

Blogging has given that to me.

Through my blogs... this one and my photography blog... I've met people I probably would never have connected with otherwise.

Just to name a few, there's the  Methodist minister in South Africa. The anesthesiologist/playwright in California. And the transplanted Wisconsonian photographer/artist/animal lover living near Dallas named TexWis Girl.

Earlier this week, I received an email from TexWisGirl letting me know about a surprise blog event called Flowers for Leontien, scheduled for today at 8 am, in honor of fellow blogger, Leontien Vandelaar of Four Leaf Clover Dairy.

I actually don't know Leontien, but she is battling cancer, and other bloggers who do know her felt our support and participation in this event would show her that her blogging community is there for her -- by posting a flower photo with {{hugs}} as the message to Leontien on our blogs today and linking to the "Flowers for Leontien" post on A Rural Journal.

By coordinating our posts, TexWisGirl and others hope to demonstrate how much the blogging community cares for Leontien and is thinking of her at this difficult time. A big beautiful virtual bouquet delivered right to her computer.

As I said, I don't know Leontien, but it moves me that these other bloggers are doing what they can to support their friend, and reaching out to others to gather as much support as possible.

So Leontien, this Texas flower is for you with lots of {{hugs}}. 

I'll keep you in my prayers, for strength and peace and healing. I'm grateful for this blogging community that connected us.

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What a coincidence that the BlogHer Life Well Lived question this week is: How does blogging, journaling, writing and connecting online help to increase your happiness?

I think I just answered that question.

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And now for a few other Sweet!s of my week.. 

Sunday: talking to all three kids in the same day; your mom calling to make sure you're okay; a call from your husband

Monday:a butterfly landing on your shoe; progress on your book for the first time in a few weeks; a blog friend using your photo in his post 

Tuesday: dinner with 2/3 of your kids; payday for one of your jobs; veggie omelettes; a porch swing at night, with a view of the crescent moon

Wednesday: free home grown onions sitting in a basket at your veterinary clinic when you go to pick up your expensive dog food; fortune cookies that tell you what you want to hear; your mom calling to check on you; more progress on your book

Thursday: your sister thinking of you when she sees an exciting photography opportunity; finally getting your Easter decorations put away; editing photos on a new, fast computer; making arrangments for a fun summer vacation at the beach with family

Friday: being back in high school and not caring if anyone likes you; a hug from a friend, via her little girl; goofy dogs; salmon colored sunsets

Saturday: joining other bloggers to offer support and prayers to a fellow blogger

Share your Sweet!s with me! I love to hear them! I hope your next week is full to the brim with them!

...Toss your hat into the latest BlogHer Life Well Lived Sweepstakes for a chance to win an iPod Touch and a $50 iTunes gift certificate to go with it. Go to the Live Well Lived main page to see the other answers and add your own to the comments.

For proper disclosure...

Tenacity

Tomorrow will mark four days in a row I didn't have to report to one job or another. That's a record. When I say "job", I'm not talking about working on my book or photography, but at one of those hourly paying gigs that help feed our bank account.

When I envisioned these four wide open days, I saw myself up early, typing away at my book, filling dozens of pages even before heading out for my morning walk with the puppies. I would then edit some photos, write a blog post or two before lunch, followed by making a major dent on my to-do notebook (it's expanded way beyond a list.) I would still have time to work out, and take the pups and my camera on an afternoon walk to the pond. 

Well, of course, in real life it didn't work out that way. I had so many odds and ends to take care of that it felt like my days just kind of piddled away.

I did manage to  work on my book a couple of times, edit some photos, and publish a blog post, but there are some major to-do's I still haven't tackled.

There's always tomorrow...

I say that too often these days.

The thing is... and I hate to put words to the phantom thoughts drifting through my brain.. but I'm beginning to think it's impossible to be a writer, photographer, blogger, personal historian, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, waiter, substitute teacher, and.... um, I think that's it.... all at the same time.

But that doesn't mean I'm giving up. 

On one of my recent walks, I noticed new grapevine twisting around an old limb. Clinging, climbing, intent on moving ever up and up. I was first struck by the bright red color, but its tenacity is what mesmerizes and inspires me now. Tom cleared out as much grapevine as he could this winter - it tends to choke the trees - but grapevine is one stubborn, headstrong plant.

 

I want to be like that.

Last Wednesday night I attended a photography workshop by Clay Blackmore, a professional portrait photographer about my age who started with film thirty years ago. He had to make the switch to digital - and to edgier, artsy photos - to stay on top of his business.

The guy next to me and I started talking. He also was about my age and had been a film photographer who only recently picked up a digital camera, trying to get back into photography and make some money from it. I can't remember now what he asked me, but in answering him, I mentioned that I was writing a book as well as doing some portrait and art photography.

That's when the woman sitting in front of us, also about our age, turned around. She asked me about my book and how I found my critique group. Seems she started writing a romance novel twenty years ago herself, but set it on a shelf somewhere along the way. It had been gnawing on her lately to dust it off and finish it, but she just hadn't done it yet.

When we said good night a little later, I told her "Get back on that book tomorrow!" And she promised she was going to. I believe she did.

I like to think I inspired her. But she also inspired me.

So tomorrow, I'll be working on my book. And my photos. And my blogs. And transcribing an interview, scanning some old photos...

Tomorrow has arms wide open, full of possibility, don't you know?

 

I hope you've had a great week that included at least a few minutes of doing something you've dreamed about, something that makes your imagination soar and your heart beat faster.

If not, there's still time. What are you waiting for?

"Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out."

~ Robert J. Collier

 

Totally. Blown. Away.

When my friend Darla mentioned having a birthday party for me, I agreed only because it was a good excuse for a get-together with dear friends from high school. 

"No presents, though!" I told her. "Make sure you tell everyone 'no presents'"! 

I knew she would still go crazy on food and decorating... she's a Master Hostess. The Diva of Detail.

But I was still surprised by these...

The next big surprise was turning a corner and seeing faces I didn't expect to see. Faces of friends who live hours and hours away, like Patti who even traveled with her margarita machine and the necessary ingredients for her delicious 80 calorie margaritas...

I was pretty sure my friend Annie was going to be there, even though she and husband Dan had some car issues they had to straighten out before driving in from Galveston. And I knew she was bringing some of her beautiful paintings.

But I'd only seen photos of them on Facebook and Etsy up until Saturday. In person they are even more amazingly beautiful.

Getting to take two home with me was certainly a sweet surprise! (Thank you, sweet, talented Annie!)

(you can see more of Annie's paintings in her Etsy Shop)

But as if those weren't enough surprises for this 53-year-old heart, they made me sit down while Patti read a poem she composed for me... which made me cry... 

and that ended like this:

So here's a little something to help you get that damn book written!

Then they plopped this huge box in front of me.

Breathless. 

That's how I felt as I stripped the paper away and realized these sneaky, wonderful people had somehow managed to give me a new computer. A brand spanking new giNORmous Mac.

My husband and Darla were the main conspirators. Oh, sneaky, sneaky...

He had even gone by there earlier in the week (when he told me he was working late!) and loaded some photos on it!

I'm still not sure who all is responsible - I know my kids were as well as some people who couldn't make it to the party. Darla promised to let me know, and as soon as I'm through with thank you notes, I'm taping their photos to my wall. I'll feel their eyes on me when I'm working, reminding me to stick with it. Whether it's warranted or not, they're putting their faith in me to finish my book.

Or maybe they were just really tired of hearing me complain about my old computer. I know Tom was!

Whatever their reasons, I still feel breathless and blown away when I think of their generosity and the depth of their friendship. It will be hard to repay them, but I'll do my best. 

 

‎"You don't have to have anything in common with people you've known since you were five. With old friends, you've got your whole life in common."

- Lyle Lovett

The Great U2 Mystery

Yesterday morning, I was all set to listen to U2 while I ran on the treadmill. I've kept their Achtung, Baby! down there for several years for when the U2 running mood hits me. (I also keep some Ted Nugent, John Mellencamp, and Dixie Chicks handy - my running moods are pretty eclectic!)

(It's kind of funny... I didn't appreciate U2 until I approached my fifties. That seems so strange to me because I love their music now... to me, it's so passionate and energizing.) 

Anyway, that's what I needed yesterday morning, but when I opened the case, it was empty!

I searched through the loose cds piled on the shelf - no luck. I looked through the other cds upstairs. No luck. 

I scratched my head. Why did my U2 cds keep disappearing?  My absolute favorite one - The Best of 1990-2000 - went missing years ago. I keep the case, still hoping it will turn up someday, maybe under a couch cushion or someone's bed, perhaps. 

But now Achtung, too? What was going on? Was this some personal vendetta against me and U2?

I called Tom, texted all of my kids, in hopes that someone saw something, spotted it somewhere, remembered removing it from the player...

No luck.

Thank goodness I still had Joshua Tree to appease my U2 running mood, but the whole time I ran I wondered about Achtung and the great U2 CD Mystery...

When Tom came home later that evening, it only took him a couple of minutes to find it, of course. Show-off. Someone (possibly even me) had placed it in a clear cd case. It was sitting right there on the shelf near the others.

I would be mad at him if I wasn't so grateful. (Thank you, baby! Now can you find the other one?)

Traipsing through Cemeteries and other Sweet!s

It might seem unusual to wander through a cemetery on your birthday, but that's what I did yesterday.

There's a small one dating from the 1850's down the highway toward Marble Falls. When I heard it was blanketed with bluebonnets, I couldn't wait to visit it. There's just something about wildflowers growing beside a headstone that I find quite beautiful.  A reminder of fragility of life, the cycle of life, of life after death.

How appropriate for a birthday, especially one that falls on Good Friday, right?

After exploring the cemetery, offering prayers for the souls of those resting there and their families, we drove on to Marble Falls, where we visited a few eclectic antique and art shops in the old part of town (Tom and Daniel are such good sports!), and enjoyed dinner at a restaurant overlooking the lake.

Best of all, later that evening I got to share the traditional birthday cheesecake with all three of my kids. 

Just icing on a week full of sweet! moments...

Sunday: fields of bluebonnets and prairie verbena; pizza from a brick oven; sitting on the back deck on a beautiful spring night with your son and talking for hours

Monday: daily chats with your mom; finding a pair of shoes in your closet you'd forgotten about; butterflies; talking about your day over dinner with your sweetie

Tuesday: four-year-olds... especially their smiles and hugs and imaginations; working with a friend; reading a new book

Wednesday: a surprise birthday lunch with friends; creme brulee; a vineyard, caliche road and tin roof glowing in moonlight

Thursday: birthday cards in the mail; a birthday call from a dear friend and your uncle; practicing the drums; a full moon welcoming your birthday

Friday: greeting another birthday morning; breakfast, courtesy of your husband and son; birthday surprises in the mailbox; birthday wishes via phone, email and Facebook; bluebonnets blanketing a cemetery; sharing cheesecake and a movie with all three kids

Saturday: a lazy Saturday at home 

I hope you had a week full of sweet! moments, too!

 

The Day Before 53

Butterflies flitted around me on my walk this morning, hopping from flower to flower too fast for me to capture in my camera. (The one above is from last week!)

I imagined they were celebrating the beautiful morning... dancing a springtime jig of joy. It was contagious - I felt joy rising inside of me in gratitude for the sunshine, the blue skies, the color popping up around me, and especially for the chance to turn 53 tomorrow.

Life isn't perfect, but it has moments of simple glory that can soften the darkness with a whisper, enough to help us see beauty in those less glorious moments. I've been blessed with tons of those moments.

But suddenly I saw indecisiveness in the butterflies' glorious dance... an inability to settle on any one flower long enough to drink much of its nectar, to truly enjoy it or benefit from it.

Was I like the butterflies, hopping from one job or hobby to another too quickly, not allowing myself time on any to truly absorb them?

Ah, birthdays always make me think too much.

I decided not to worry if I'm hopping in too many directions or not. Sharing a birthday with Good Friday is enough to reflect upon. What better gift could I receive than the one Christ gave to me?

I have already received some sweet birthday surprises, though... a few cards and phone calls, a party with friends next weekend, and (bless you Mary Kay, Conni and Karen!), I get to go see the hit Broadway musical Mary Poppins when it plays Austin next week!

My gift to myself will be to re-focus on my health... getting enough sleep, eating right, and making my workouts a priority... and also to focus on each moment at hand, rather than letting my brain wander too far into the past or the future... or onto Facebook when I'm supposed to be writing.

All three of my kids will be here for a while this weekend to help me celebrate Easter and my birthday. Icing on the cake, for sure! Unlike my zip-lining adventure last year, I didn't have a desire to cross off any big Bucket List things for my birthday, other than visiting Enchanted Rock again, and we already did that.

I imagine, besides going to church, we'll just hang around the house, walk the dogs, watch a movie, talk...

Okay, I admit I'm hoping for at least one game of ping-pong.

But whatever we do, it will be perfect, and I know I'll be reflecting on all of it, tucking it away in my heart and giving thanks.

God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.

~Voltaire

 

Adding to my collection...

I started substitute teaching again.

Three years ago I started a (mostly) full-time job and, except for Voting Day and a couple of quick visits to talk about writing to students, I didn't step a foot into the schools during that time.

I missed it, and I'm so grateful the district accepted me as a sub again. Over the past few weeks I've reviewed color patterns... read Peter Rabbit aloud for the first time in more than a decade, as well as voiced a part in the last act of Othello...  watched a stage performance of "The Emperor's New Clothes"... enjoyed a documentary hosted by Peter Jennings about the 50's and early 60's (three times!)... learned about the dangers of drinking and drugs from Hollywood Henderson via VHS... and overheard some heartbreaking home life stories.

I'm not going to be the popular sub... at least not at the high school... because I don't care if the kids like me or not. I'm there to follow the teacher's directions, period. And, if possible, get the kids to learn something while they're under my watch.

After raising three kids and subbing for 15 years (plus one year on the payroll as the elementary school librarian) I'm on to all, or at least most, of the tricks. But I still have a soft heart and those kids can be really tricky. I'm sure they're going to pull one over one me every once in a while because they can also be interesting, considerate and funny.

I'm hoping to sub as much as I can until summer vacation starts. Unlike other jobs I've had in my life, this one gives me a good feeling, like I've actually done something positive with my time. It's also a great source of material for my children's book!

And, of course, the main reason I'm taking time away from my book for anything else is we need the money. I'm just grateful that I've been able to gather a flexible collection of jobs I enjoy:

1. Writer
2. Photographer (Art and Portrait)
3. Blogger
4. Book Reviewer
5. Substitute teacher
6. Winery Bistro waiter
7. Independent Silpada Representative
8. Substitute church secretary
9. Personal historian (although I haven't made much progress on this one!)

I feel like I've forgotten one or two...

Oh, well. It's hard to focus when this is what's going on around me...

So gorgeous! The world is exploding in color!

I pulled over to take this on my commute to #5 yesterday. And to sigh.

There was an art show going on around the estate, so during some down time, I grabbed my camera and walked around...

This was my favorite, by Shakti Sarkin. I didn't go home with it, though. The price? $1350. 

Made me wish I could add 'artist' to my list.

Here are a few other pieces that caught my eye...

I believe the art will hang around for a month. But we also have a new permanent addition to the Bistro. A pizza oven!

You can see Chef Sean is happy about it...

...but this is going to be sooooo detrimental to my waistline...

I love pizza.

I love my jobs.

If you miss me on Facebook or FlickR or in the comments section of your blog, now you know why! (Thanks for missing me, Patti!)

An evening walk... and other sweet!s of the week

Tom and I have gotten into the habit of an afternoon walk down to our pond and along our little creek. The blue skies, golden light and exploding colors are irresistible.

First, Max wades into the pond up to his neck, letting the water penetrate his thick fur and cool him down. Belle ventures to the water's edge for a drink, but prefers to wallow in the sand of the road.

(Strange dog.)

Once Max is back on dry land, and dutifully shakes to share the pond with us, we cross the dam dotted with prairie verbena and fleabane, watching for poison ivy and blackberries, checking to see what trees are returning and which ones didn't survive the drought. I'm keeping my fingers crossed on the slender ones with the beautiful bark that line the creek. So far I haven't spotted any buds, but maybe they're late bloomers...

It's possible, right?

We head up the hill a bit, then cross over to the little cemetery where Jake and Maggie and Char and Sylvia and Sylvester and Spanky are buried, marked with small iron crosses. (That's two dogs, one Siamese cat, two gerbils and a tiger salamander, if you're wondering. All beloved pets.)

We pass the old, twisted cedars and scramble down a small slope to a path that runs along the creek, following it back up to the little waterfall where we search for minnows and tadpoles before crossing the little rock dam.

The water is rising a little every day and you can't cross without getting your feet wet now, but we don't mind. We aim for two large limestone slabs resting on the bank of the creek just a bit downstream, where we sit and talk about our days. Max wades back in, but Belle gives us kisses and lets us pet her before they both scratch out cool spots in the earth under a rock overhang near us and nap until we decide it's time to head back to the house.

I imagine heaven to be very similar. 

At any rate, it's a sweet way to greet the evening.

Every spring is the only spring — a perpetual astonishment.

Ellis Peters

 

Here are a few other sweet! moments from my past week...

Saturday: sitting on a rock near a running creek with your dogs and husband, watching tadpoles scurry under the surface 

Sunday: a spring morning that makes you hear Cat Stevens singing "Morning Has Broken" in your mind

Monday: watching a great documentary on the 50's and 60's... and getting paid for it!; an overdue phone call that settles the Mama Worries growing in your heart; a drive down to the lake with your sweetie

Tuesday: progress on your book; homemade migas for lunch, with enough left over for tomorrow's breakfast; playing the drums for the first time in two or three weeks; hearing happiness and relief in your babies' voices 

Wednesday: playing the drums for the second day in a row; a new book in the mailbox

Thursday: long phone conversations with a dear friend; spending time with your daughter; tortilla soup from Santa Rita; a walk near a creek at dusk

Friday: living in a small town where, everywhere you go, you run into someone you know; butterflies; Catholic Church fish fries, followed by Stations of the Cross; Belle's grin when you come back home

I hope your past week was full of sweet! moments... and the next will have even more! Share your favorites here!

Getting Happy

 

I played my drums today.

That makes two days in a row after several weeks of merely dusting them. A friend shared with me some basic beats he learned in his drum class and I've been wanting to practice them for days, but just had too many important things I needed to do. 

Playing the drums isn't important. Or at least I didn't think it was until today. Not until the rain that wasn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow showed up a day early, forcing me to postpone a family photo shoot I had scheduled with a friend this afternoon.

We've had a tough time meshing our calendars. I had already postponed the shoot once to go to a meeting I had forgotten about.  Now it will be another two weeks before we can meet up.

Disappointed and discouraged, I picked up the sticks and banged away for a little while, not in the mood to do anything else.

It didn't make me any money. I couldn't cross it off of my long to-do list. But I felt better. A few rays of mental sunshine broke through the rainclouds that had somehow rolled into my head. 

It made me think of BlogHer's Life Well Lived question for this week:  How do you put yourself first? How does taking time for yourself help make you happier?

Almost every morning I take my puppies for a walk. That makes me happy, but as much as I love my walks, the joy in their faces is contagious and makes my heart soar.

In fact, most of my happiness is triggered by doing things for others. I truly believe that's the secret to happiness.

But there's a need for balance. Even Jesus took breaks from the crowds, heading off into the mountains or across the sea to be by himself. If he needed breaks, how much more so do we, to keep ourselves from becoming burned out or resentful?

Playing the drums makes me happy. Slipping off for a lunch... or a weekend... with my friends (or my husband) makes me happy. Having my hair cut by someone who knows how to cut my hair makes me happy.

That first cup of coffee in a quiet house... stepping away from the computer into the early afternoon sunshine... taking photographs of flowers and full moons... writing... reading... these all make me happy.

And that happiness is like a big deep breath, a surge of energy coursing through my body, revitalizing me, giving me what I need to help others.

What about you? How do you put yourself first? (Do you?)

And how does taking time for yourself help make you happier? 

Visit the main Life Well Lived post on BlogHer and don't forget to enter the Sweepstakes. You could win a Kindle Fire and a $50 Amazon gift certificate to go with it!

 

 

Beauty in the Midst

Last week I helped celebrate my cousin Ronnie's life. 

Looking through the photos afterward, Claire Bidwell Smith's words kept coming back to me...

"Even in the midst of all this pain and sadness I see something beautiful."

 

I snapped this one of Ronnie's sister Cindy surrounded by her daughters, grandkids, and great-granddaughter because of the palpable feeling of support they gave her, as well as the sweet hug and kiss of comfort from a grandson to his grandma. I had never even met some of these generations before, my own cousins once or twice or three times removed.

 

I had to capture this smile on my mother's face as she met her great-great niece, Khloie, and the proud smile on Khloie's grandma's face.

 

Representatives of the Veterans of Foreign Wars paid tribute to Ronnie's military service with a few words at the graveside ceremony. 

The man in overalls on the far left was Ronnie's neighbor, a good friend who drove Ronnie to and from his many doctor visits. 

 

 

 

Charles and Howard are brothers, my cousins. 

I had good visits with both of them on this day. 

I can't remember the last time I saw either one of them. Perhaps it was at a funeral.  It makes me sad to think the next time I see them will probably be at another funeral.

 

 

Martha and my mom's friendship goes all the way back to junior high. Martha's sweet face always appears in those times when Mama needs support, reminding me of my own longtime friends. (I wonder what they talk about when I'm not around?) 

 

Tex-Mex for lunch afterwards with my parents and sister, Brenda. 

Mama and Daddy aren't often this dressed up. I used this opportunity for a photo shoot. Daddy made me work for it, though.

"Well, that's okay, but Daddy, this time remember to look down just a little so the flash doesn't bounce off of your glasses. And smile!"

 

"Hmmm... better, but Daddy this time don't take a bite of food before I take the picture and really smile! You know I'll keep taking them until you do what I tell you."

 

 "That's it! Perfect!" (He knew I meant it!)

The Rules of Inheritance: a journey through grief

 

 

It's somehow fitting that I've been reading Claire Bidwell Smith's The Rules of Inheritance for the past few weeks.

Last night I dove into the final chapters, my mind still swirling with sorrow and joy that lingered from a quick trip to Houston for my cousin's funeral. Sorrow for friends and family wrapped tight in grief for the recent loss of their loved ones, including a dear friend whose husband just died, and joy from time spent with my parents, sister, and cousins I rarely see. 

I arrived home just in time to attend Ash Wednesday services, where Father Don reminded us of our mortality, of the importance of not squandering the gift of life we've been given, but to find a way to give back. 

Through all of this, Smith's book was on my mind, because it deals with life and death and grief. Mostly her own grief. When Smith was fourteen, both of her parents were diagnosed with cancer. Her mother died when Smith was eighteen and then, just seven years later, she watched her father take his last breath.

Smith takes us along on her heart-wrenching and courageously candid journey, but as tragic as it is, underneath is an unspoken glimmer of hope that kept me turning the pages. I knew she survived this dark passage of her life... I could tell that she was writing it from a patch of light that gave her strength to venture back in, in order to share her story with us.

But I couldn't imagine how she did it. I wanted to know. I needed to know.

How do you face the grief without letting it swallow you? How do you continue when you've lost your "most important person"?

I've felt grief and loss. Two sisters-in-law. My oldest brother. All of my grandparents. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Close friends.

But my parents and my husband's parents are all still alive... still voices on the other end of the phone... still just a hop in the car and a few hours' drive away.  Except for my brother, we have all ten of our siblings. All of our children.

Mostly, we still have each other.

But life is so fragile. In little over a year, six of my friends have become widows. Several of my classmates from high school, former co-workers, and now my cousin have died in the past year as well, while others have lost their parents. 

Smith was young when she lost her parents, but is there ever an age when you're prepared for that void in your life?

I feel blessed. Grateful. And lucky. But I also feel a twinge of guilt that makes me stumble over the right words. Smith says "If you haven't been through a major loss, then the truth is that you just don't know what to say to someone who has." 

She talks about the friends that gathered around her in her father's last days. Just their physical presence, their touch, helped her get through it. I remember how much it meant to me when I looked up at my brother's funeral and spotted my girlfriends.

Even if I don't know what to say, I'll try harder to be physically present.

I also won't pass judgement. I won't tell anyone it's time to get on with their lives, but will try to just listen. "Our grief is as individual as our lives," Smith says. 

Simone Weil said "All sins are attempts to fill voids."

Smith's reactions to her parents' illnesses and deaths certainly proves this to be true. She relates with raw honesty her futile attempts to fill the void. I'm amazed she not only survived, but managed to settle her father's estate, get her degree, and hold jobs while traveling the dark and gritty path of her teens and twenties.

I recommend this book to anyone who is actively grieving, but also to anyone who has struggled with depression, loneliness, bad relationships, trying to find the right path, or just trying to figure out who they really are. They'lll be able to identify with her story, too, whether or not they've suffered loss such as hers.

It's not until years later that Smith allows her grief to bubble to the surface or is able to recognize Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief in her dark journey.

Now a grief counselor, Smith used the stages of grief as the framework for her memoir. It isn't a linear story, but jumps from one episode in her life to another, back and forth, but told in the present tense, allowing us to experience the moment through her eyes. 

Some of the episodes are repeated with slight differences; I didn't understand this until near the last chapter when she explains the stages are just a frame to work with. "You may never experience all of them. You may go through them out of order or sometimes find yourself in more than one of them at the same time." 

Life and death go hand in hand. Personal loss is waiting for each of us around one of the corners, just ahead. I believe reading Smith's book will help anyone prepare for the inevitable grief that comes with life... and to believe that it's possible to eventually get to the other side of grief and continue on.

At the end of the book, Smith describes walking in on her husband and young daughter having a tea party. She wants to freeze that moment, but knows she can't. She knows time will pass, along with many others, that they'll all grow old and die. 

But her father's words, spoken shortly before his last breath, resonate through her words. I know she believes them and I do, too:

"Life is worth living."

 

 

 

 

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are totally my own.

 

 

 

Seasons and Promises

Today I'm driving to Houston. My cousin died a few days ago and I want to be there for his funeral tomorrow, Ash Wednesday.

Ronnie was only 64. Not old, but not young, either. I guess "just enough time", as the Band Perry sings... but I can't imagine ever thinking I've had enough time.

I'd prefer not to be going to Ronnie's funeral tomorrow, although what better way to remind us of our mortality as we enter this season of Lent than to have someone we love and care about die?

As I prepared for my trip this morning, I got word that a dear friend's husband died suddenly yesterday. For the past two years they've lived in separate countries, longing for the day when she could join him in Spain and they'd finally be together longer than too-short visits that passed oh, so quickly. 

Just over a month ago, that day finally came. And now, just like that, he's gone. 

I'm grateful they were together, that there wasn't still an ocean separating them when he died, but my heart breaks for her as all of their hopes and plans and dreams for the future turn to ashes.

That's the thing about life. We can make all kinds of plans and dream all kinds of dreams, but there's no guarantee any of them will come true. 

Should we stop planning? Stop dreaming?

Heck no. Even if we can't control what happens in our lives, we can control how we react to the unexpected. We can still try to make the most of each moment we're given, even if it we feel there's never enough time. We can try to embrace the lessons in our tears as much as those in our laughter. 

I came across a wonderful reminder of this on Beth's blog yesterday in the video below. I felt it was too powerful a story not to share. 

 

I haven't made my Lenten promise yet, but I have a feeling it will have something to do with my answer to the question below...

"What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

~ Mary Oliver

How would you answer that question?

Please join me in praying for peace and strength for these and others who have recently lost loved ones, including my high school classmate, Tanya, whose husband died today.

"Girl...We SO Crazy" (a Diva weekend in Long Hollow)

 

This tiny naked baby, arms opened wide for a hug, sits on my kitchen window sill, a sweet reminder that just two weeks ago my kitchen was overflowing in love and friendship and hugs from women who have known me almost forever.

 

 

 

The baby came hidden in an authentic King Cake, carted all the way from Louisiana (along with some genuine boudin sausages) by my friend Sandy.

I'm not sure who found the baby in their piece of cake, but I love that they plopped him down where I would spot him and be reminded of them every day.

The Diva weekend started on a Friday night, two weeks ago tomorrow, when half of the women braved my dirt road in the dark of night just to get together with friends they've known since high school. 

The rest rolled in on Saturday.

The beauty of these get-togethers, though, is that we weren't all friends in high school. It took a few decades, but we're grabbing this chance to connect in ways that are impossible when you're a teenager. 

I didn't start snapping photos until Saturday morning, though, when some of us ventured out on a walk to wake up my husband who had escaped to his tent across the creek soon after grilling us a delicious fajita dinner the night before.

 

 

What a sweetheart! 

We thought about jumping in on him, then realized he might be as naked as that King Cake baby, so we just talked to him through the canvas, instead. 

 

Look! I wasn't the only one swinging a big camera that weekend! 

Love this one of Rae and Max, just chillin' by the creek...

Max and Belle love Rae - she always brings them treats. 

This time she brought puppy Valentines, of course...

After a morning spent hanging out on the porch talking and eating more fajitas, we piled into SUVs and headed to Flat Creek Estate for a wine tasting and tour. 

It was fun being a customer for a change!

We even talked Chef Sean into posing for a photo...

Back at the house, we continued the celebration of our friendship with tons of food, including the King Cake below...

...and a toast (I knew that one day all of those souvenir shot glasses I collected would come in handy!)

And that's why I feel this photo says it all...

I cannot even imagine where I would be today were it not for that handful of friends who have given me a heart full of joy. Let’s face it: Friends make life a lot more fun.

~ Charles R. Swindoll

The Privilege of a Lifetime

"The privilege of a lifetime is to be yourself."

 ~ Joseph Campbell

 

A big pot of chicken soup is simmering on the stove. From where I sit across the room I can hear the little bubbles playing on the surface and the aroma is making my stomach growl.

I made it for myself, because I'm sick. I don't cook often these days, and when I do, it's usually to whip up some favorite of one of my kids or my husband, although he's gotten quite good at cooking whatever he wants himself.

You see, there are tons of other things I'd rather do with my time besides cook. That's just me, the way I am, and I'm okay with it. Thank goodness my husband is, too.

I thought about this as I chopped up vegetables for the soup earlier, because BlogHer's latest question for their Life Well Lived Getting Happy series is: How do you practice self-acceptance and find unconditional love for yourself? (Part 2 of the question is: How does practicing love first help you attract more love and happiness in your life?)

Well, not cooking if I don't feel like it is one way I practice self-acceptance.

I spent years trying on cooking and crafting and gardening and sewing, and while I enjoyed each one to a certain extent, none of them fit me exactly right. 

Today I'm cooking because I care about myself. I want to get well.

It took years to shed the 'Mommy-Martyr' mentality that made me think everyone else's needs were more important than my own. It's still a trick mirror though... one big incentive to take care of myself is so I can take care of those I love who depend on me. To be healthy if they need me or to just set a good example.

When I eat right, when I run, when I make sure I get enough sleep or play my drums or take time to read or write or take photos or laugh with friends or go dancing with my husband... it's for them as much as it is for myself.

 

Turning 50 was a huge turning point in my self-attitude, like standing before a mirror, evaluating where I'd been, where I still wanted to go and whether or not I was heading in the right direction to get there. Trying to figure out what fit and what should be tossed. I was able to recognize and appreciate the strengths that got me this far, as well as the quirks that make me unique.

Love your neighbor as yourself. ~ Mark 12:31

I forgave myself mistakes made along the way, accepted myself as human, flaws and all, and by doing so, discovered how easy it is to do the same for other people. The key to loving your imperfect neighbor "as yourself" is first loving your imperfect self.

How do you start? Ponder this...

 Where there is no love, put love and there will be love.

~ St. John of the Cross

 

 

So how do you practice self-acceptance and find unconditional love for yourself?

And how does practicing love first help you attract more love and happiness in your life?

Leave your answer here, but also at the main post on BlogHer where you can see other answers. And be sure to enter the sweepstakes for a chance at a Kindle Fire and $50 Amazon Gift Card HERE.

It's already Saturday? (Sweet!)

I'm in a calm spot between a busy week and a busier weekend. We've been blessed with spring-like weather, lately, and I admit I'm ready for it to just stick around. Wildflowers haven't yet ventured our way, but we're being serenaded by birds and frogs and a running creek. Storm clouds and sunshine are taking turns painting the canvas above us.

Middle son is home this weekend which called for a celebration: pizza, wine, and a Netflix double-feature last night (I finally got up the nerve to watch "Interview with a Vampire"! Plus another movie that was pretty good but I can't recall the name. Guess it wasn't that good.)

Even though it was a busy week, I remembered to keep track of my sweet moments. Hope you did, too!

Saturday: a morning walk with girlfriends and dogs to wake your husband in his tent across the creek; fresh kolaches; a sunshine-filled afternoon with friends in a vineyard; kitchen counters overflowing with BBQ, King Cake and tons of other food; a house full of your longtime friends...dancing, laughing, talking; toasting your friendship with shots of Patron followed by cinnamon-sprinkled orange slices

 

 

Sunday: a road trip with a friend with hours to catch up on your lives; being part of a circle of support for a friend mourning her husband; snapping photos of an alligator (from a safe distance); dinner with view of the water; sharing a beautiful sunset with friends; hugs from your parents

 

 

Monday: breakfast by your Daddy, hours of unrushed time with your parents; a quick visit with your sister; missing traffic on your way home

Tuesday: sunshine breaking through morning fog; the wisdom of Winnie-the-Pooh 

Wednesday: Grand Prize on a SheWrites giveaway; a quick visit with your daughter; a phone call from a sweet friend you haven't talked to in a while; sitting on the porch swing on a summer-in-winter evening with your sweetie

Thursday: a puppy's face at the door, first thing in the morning; getting your run out of the way before the sun comes up; a walk along a running creek at dusk with your sweetie, and capturing a photo of the first star of the evening

 

 

Friday: dramatic storm clouds; wind whispering in your ears; pizza, wine and movies with your sweetie and middle son

Saturday: sleeping in before the rush of a busy weekend begins

Hope you've had a week full of sweet moments, too!

My Prayer Bowl Overfloweth

 

 

A friend's husband, my own former co-worker and friend, died earlier this week. Just in the past month or so another friend lost his mother, a classmate's husband succumbed to cancer, and I learned of the death of another friend (along with my good intentions to see her again here on earth.)  

There are others... many I can't think of right now. 

Perhaps it's the stage of life I'm in, this middle zone between parents and children, on the cusp of "old age". Perhaps I'm just becoming more aware of the heartaches around me, thanks to online connections and communication.

Whatever it is, there are too many in too short of a time... too many cases of cancer, too many surgeries, too many sons and daughters facing crisis, too many out of work, too many ailing parents and siblings and friends. Too many.

Too many for me to keep them all in my head every day, every minute, along with my own personal prayers.

My mind is on overload. 

Hence, the prayer bowl above, an idea I got from a religious education workshop years ago. I scribble each new name, worry or heartache onto a strip of scrap paper, fold it into thirds and drop it on top of the growing pile, offering the whole bunch up in prayer. 

When it becomes full, as it will too quickly, I'll toss the bits of paper onto a fire. The prayers will float to heaven and become one with the earth, simultaneously.

Fifty two years ago the beautiful milk glass vase held flowers for my mother and her new baby (me) sent with love from her Sunday School class... a symbol of their prayers.

Now it holds those tiny strips of paper, folded gently around prayers of my heart, all of them lifted up to God with faith that he'll take care of them all, every single one, according to his plan.  

Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

~ Philippians 4:6,7

 

 

 

 

God Bless the Late Bloomers!

Those things, good Lord, that we pray for, give us the grace to labor for.

~St. Thomas More

 

It's inside of me. I can feel it pushing, trying to stretch and uncurl its petals, this flower of mine. This flower of Me.

Some days it's stronger than others and I feel it's almost there, almost free, but then it grows still, frozen by doubts. 

What will it look like, this composite of seeds blended together over a lifetime? Will one color dominate, washing out the others, or will they all be in there, a mish-mashed rainbow?

Will you be able to see the writer, who can't help but try to capture and direct the flood of words constantly streaming through her brain? The photographer who always has a camera pointed at the world, hoping to freeze what her eye sees? The re-awakened business person who sold lemonade and knick-knacks on her childhood curb? The personal historian who loves to ask nosy questions... who finds true life stories as fascinating as fiction?

I don't care. Just bloom, already!

These late-bloomers inspire and encourage me to keep trying...

Mary Wesley was in her fifties before she published her first book, one of several for children she wrote. She went on to write a novel, "Jumping the Queue," published in her seventies. It was rejected several times before MacMillan Publishers took a chance on it. By the time she died at ninety, she was a widely popular, successful writer.  

Harriett Doerr went back to college in her sixties, after her husband died. She published her first novel at seventy-three, "Stones for Ibarra," went on to write many novels, short stories and essays... and win the National Book Award.

Mary and Harriett make my 52 years feel younger than ever, God bless them!

Other late-blooming authors include Frank McCourt (60's), Richard Adams (50's), James Michener (40's - a spring chicken!), Laura Ingalls Wilder (60's) and Raymond Chandler (50's).

Although I started writing years ago, it's taken me until now to believe in myself enough to make it a priority over other parts of my life. Not necessarily a belief in any talent I might or might not have, but in my doggedness and desire to write, and the belief that those are the keys to success as much as, or maybe even more than, talent.

I'm just too stubborn to give up now. 

Ripped Apart and other Sweet!s of the Week

A collection of colorful bags and pieces of luggage grows beside me. Today's the day I take TG back to campus to start the spring semester. Wasn't it just a few days ago that we carried all of those bags down from the car?

Christmas break went by so fast. At the beginning of it I had two kids at home; soon it will be just me and Tom again. Sweet, yet bittersweet.

Sweet because, luckily, Tom and I enjoy being together - we easily fall back into our pre-kids selves. Bittersweet because I enjoy having the kids around, too, and not only for all the help they give us with dishes, dog care, laundry... although I do miss that, too.

This might have been the last long break TG spends with us. By this time next year, she'll be living in an apartment, probably working near campus through the break, coming home for a weekend every now and then. Sigh.

I'll take it a semester at a time, though, and right now I just pray this one will be the best ever for her.

Well, while I wait for her to finish packing, I'll tell you a little about my day yesterday, spent in the World of Writers.

I finally made it to a meeting of the Austin Chapter of the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writer's and Illustrators) held at BookPeople, a wonderful independent book store in downtown Austin. I don't think I've every met a friendlier group of strangers in my life - the support and encouragement was palpable!

I sat in the only open chair I spotted,  After introductions, I discovered the woman beside me, as well as the two directly behind me, all live just a few miles from me and are eager to form a writer's critique group.Talk about serendipity!

The first session of the meeting was a presentation by author Brian Yansky on plot, character and structure of your story. Some of it was knew to me... some I already know but don't necessarily put into practice... and that's why I need reminders like this, especially from successful authors who are willing to share what has worked for them. Judging by the others who were scribbling notes, I'm not the only one!

Next, a few of us went to the third floor for the open critique group... the part I had been most eager for! I passed out copies of my first two pages, cleared my throat, took a deep breath and read out loud while they followed along.

When I finished, I could see they were hesitant, not sure if I wanted brutal honesty or encouraging pats-on-the-back.

"Rip it apart!" I told them. I've read too many books lately that began with seeds of great stories, but because of neglected pruning, had grown into huge distracting messes. I don't want mine to end up that way!

So with my blessing they ripped it apart, so to speak. Some of what they mentioned I had already wondered about myself, but needed another opinion... which is why I was eager for the critique group. Other things were surprises, and so even more helpful.

A critique can be painful if you take it personally, but I look at it as a really good workout... tough to get through but so invigorating and energizing when it's all over... and the only way to get stronger.

We took turns reading and critiquing, everyone offering concrete constructive comments. Writer heaven!

After a quick break (I walked to Whole Foods and enjoyed a cup of tomato basil soup at a small table outside, great for people-watching!) we gathered on the third floor again. Two of the members had attended a recent Story Masters Workshop where they took pages and pages of notes, all of which they shared with us. 

Spending a day with such a great group of talented writers (many published authors in the group) who encourage and support each other... very sweet!

And now for some other sweet! moments of the past week... 

 

Monday: a fire in the woodburning stove on a cold, rainy day; cedar pollen that's been attacking your nose and making you want to scratch our your eyes washed from the air by the rain; finally meeting a previously only 'online' friend in person; loose ends neatly tied up; joining a writer's group, at long last, to help you with your book 

Tuesday: the moment when dark clouds break apart to reveal blue sky; frogs singing in the distance, grateful for the recent rain; watching "The 10th Kingdom" with your daughter; cell phones that allow you to talk to your mom and your dear friend, despite the miles between you

 

 

Wednesday: $300 worth of free jewelry, thanks to your party!; a Post of the Week award from Hilary for one of your photography posts; that sparkling-clean-teeth feeling you get after a trip to the dentist; a jingle-jangle in your pocket for stuff you didn't want anymore anyway  

Thursday: getting word that a sweet kid you know was found before you even knew he was missing; scratching things off of your list; finally fulfilling a months-old promise to a friend

Friday: a "Happy Anniversary" first thing in the morning from you sweetie before you even realize it's Friday the 13th; puppies stretched out comfy and warm on the laundry room floor on a below-freezing morning; shopping with your baby girl; getting $17 for from a local resale shop for things you were going to toss out; any Ryan Reynolds movie

Saturday: a day spent with writers; getting honest feedback and suggestions on your children's book-in-progress; tomato and basil soup outdoors on a gorgeous day; a walk at dusk beside a running brook; home-brewed beer; watching Harry Potter movies with your daughter

Sunday: a friend thinking of you when a job comes open; watching more Harry Potter movies with your daughter; a call from your mom

What were some of your sweet! moments in the past week? (I know you can come up with at least one!) Please share them here!

Friday the 13th

Up late last night, writing and coming through on a months-old promise of photos to a sweet friend.

Reset alarm, later, later. Finally staggered out of bed at 6am to kiss Tom before he hit the road.

"Happy Anniversary!" he tells me.

My sleepy brain scrambles for the meaning behind his words. Through the fog, it hits me... Today must be a Friday the 13th, just like the day we got married almost 30 years ago.

And he remembered.

That's just one reason I love him.

 

It was a beautiful Friday the 13th for me. I hope it was for you, too!

To Say "It's Done"

I knew what I wanted.

To lay words on page, one after another. Words that twisted and turned but always moved forward through the life of my great-great grandfather, allowing my readers to experience the adventures, heartbreaks and joys of his life. 

Most of all, I wanted to lay the last word. To say "It's done." To bless, to send away, to cross fingers and pray.

A year should have been enough, right? An hour or two a day of steady writing for a year would have gotten me to the end of the journey. An hour or two is nothing... the time it takes to walk and feed the dogs or check my email. 

But the days of our lives are tricky adventures themselves, full of their own twists and turns and dark holes that make hours vanish into thin air... all too often the very hours I needed to tell his story.

And on the rare days I was able to slip away from other projects and responsibilities into his story, instead of steadily moving forward, one word after another, I'd find myself trapped in the quicksand of historic research where hours can truly disappear.

This year, again, what I want most of all is to say "It's done." I want to lay the last word and send something away with a prayer. To finish something without being lured away by another story.

So I'm stepping out of my grandfather's journey and back into another I'd written to the end, but that just needs a little sprucing up here and there. The one my grandfather's story pulled me away from.

There's no need for research, only the loosening of my imagination and the dedication - the determination - to lay the last word. 

And then I'll return to my grandfather's story, stronger, more experienced, more prepared to stay that course to the end.

 

This week we’d like you to write a memoir piece about an unfulfilled goal or a broken resolution, beginning with the words, “I knew what I wanted".

Kids, Jewelry, Birthdays, Weddings and other (belated) Sweet!s

A rumble of thunder and whisper of rain woke me in the night. It continues today, another steady, soaking rain falling from a colorless sky. We've had enough rain in the past few weeks that I almost take it for granted, despite the months of drought.

Almost, but not quite. Waking to the sound of rain is still a sweet sound, especially when I can roll over, snuggle deeper into my covers, and go back to sleep.

I would also almost start complaining about the soggy weather... the mud that gets tracked in, the slippery roads... despite those months of drought, but in between our frequent rainy days, we've had warm days with crisp blue skies (Saturday) and cool days with skies of rainless clouds (yesterday.)

I love it when things balance out that way! Very sweet!

Yes, I realize I'm running late with this post. I've been keeping up with my sweet!s this week... but my photos, not so much.

Well, I've been taking plenty, but all of them from the past week were still stashed on my camera until last night. I didn't have a chance until now to tidy my sweet! list and glance through my photos - it was one of those on-the-run weekends that I love, but that leave me breathless!

First, Daniel came home for a visit this weekend. His face is always a sweet sight, but I hadn't seen him since last year, when he moved out to his own place just after Christmas!

So you can imagine how happy I was to see him!

We spent Friday evening talking and watching a movie, just hanging out and relaxing. I was hosting my own Silpada jewelry party (one of my other "hats") the next afternoon, but thought I would have plenty of time Saturday morning to get everything done.

But after letting myself sleep in and then mentally comparing what I had left to do with how much time I had in which to do it, I realized I was wrong!

My kids were lifesavers, though, bless them... they pitched in and helped me pack up the last of our Christmas decorations away, tidy up the house in preparation and followed whatever other orders I barked at them. Such sweet kids!

Consequently, it was a relaxed open house. And what a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon... sitting around a table, sipping wine, munching on yummy snacks, talking to friends and looking at beautiful jewelry!

Tom and I headed out right after the party to help my dear friend Darla celebrate her birthday at Z'Tejas. (It was my first time there, and oh my gosh, it was soooo good! Great twists on traditional Tex Mex... I got the Wild Mushroom Enchiladas.)

(Again, my kids were lifesavers... they helped clean up from the party for me! I just hope Daniel will come home again some day... I don't think he was counting on all the extra chores!) 

Just getting together with these longtime friends from high school is a sweet way to spend a Saturday night, but we were joined by a face none of us had seen since graduation day. We reconnected with Wayne via Facebook and discovered he'd been living in the Austin area for the past fifteen years or so, too. We've probably passed him on the highway a zillion times...

After church Sunday morning, I met my future daughter-in-law in town for another day of wedding venue sightseeing. There are so many possibilities, it's mind-boggling! I'm glad I'm just a tag along and not the one having to make the decision!

I can have fun snapping photos...

And now for my belated list of Sweet! moments from the past week...

Monday: walking at sunrise; checking out wedding venues with your son, his future bride and her family (photos HERE and HERE); one of your blog posts listed on Pioneer Woman's sidebar links

Tuesday: frost sparkling in the caliche road like tiny diamonds; working on your book for hours, even if it doesn't feel like you made much progress

Wednesday: almost getting caught up on your email; a friend pinning a link to your blog on Pinterest; not burning the chicken legs on the grill even though you were distracted with writing; catching a movie with friends; extra-sweet... the movie starred George Clooney and was set in Hawaii ("The Descendants")

Thursday: the excitement and joy of puppies on a morning walk; words flowing onto the page without effort, for a change; a phone call from your sister; your kids helping you take down the Christmas decorations

Friday: fresh morning sunlight; bumping into a friend at the grocery store; the Epiphany; photos of your husband's aunt ziplining in Costa Rica in honor of her 74th birthday!; the sight of your middle son for the first time in two weeks

Saturday: your kids pitching in to get your house ready for your jewelry party; finding out one of your photos was chosen for FlickR's Explore; friends gathered around your table, chatting; a friend putting in an order for jewelry even though she sells it herself, just in hopes you have a good party; celebrating a dear friend's birthday and reconnecting with a friend from long ago

Sunday: kneeling and praying next to your sweetie in church; checking out more wedding venues with your future daughter-in-law; hearing from your oldest, letting you know he made it safely to Arizona for a business trip

(Monday: I didn't plan to add Monday on here, but first thing this morning, I received a message from a friend I've been praying for that he's met 'someone'. It made me smile, inside and out, so I had to add it here.)

I hope you had tons of sweet moments this past week, too. I confess, there are days when I have to think really hard to find one, but I always manage to... and often it triggers recollection of a few more. If you haven't tried it yet, I encourage you to!

 

A Message From Myself Out of the Past

Epiphany (-nies)

Knotted muscle in my neck...can't quite catch my breath...geez, it's only Jan. 4 and I'm already stressing about how to get everything accomplished that I want to do this year! I wish I could resolve to have an extra six hours each day - that would help! Twenty-four doesn't seem to be nearly enough.

But, of course, I can't. None of us can. We just have to stumble along and do the best we can and try not to worry about the minutes we drop along the way. Just keep facing forward, or, as this Japanese proverb reminds us...

 "If you look up, there are no limits."

For me, this means that God will give me the time, strength and whatever other resources I need (money, patience, determination, health...) to do what he needs me to do. And nothing else really matters.

That's so much easier to say than to accept, though.

This morning I rose at 5am...the first time in more than a week I've been up before the sun. Even though I hate that first jolt of the alarm clock and long to jump back under the covers just a little while longer, I love getting so much done before the sun rises. I love walking the critters under a fresh morning sky, watching the world wake up. I feel invigorated...hopeful...ready to embrace the day. I wish morning could last all day!

It helped that we celebrated the Epiphany at Mass yesterday - the visit of the Magi to the baby Jesus. The theme...the key word to remember...the word and image I took away from the service was LIGHT.

Light as in guidance...the star that led them to Jesus; light as in understanding...they recognized Jesus was a king, the son of God; light as in revelation...they revealed to us that Jesus came for all people, all nations, all races.

So each day I will focus on that light. His light. I'll imagine it as the fresh morning light, stretching over the world as the sun rises. I'll pray that it shines outward, leading me along the right path and helping me have greater understanding and compassion...I'll pray that it shines inward upon myself, revealing my faults...those areas that I most need to work on. I'll pray that I have his light within me and that others can see it. And then I'll take a deep breath and try not to worry about anything more.

A massage sure sounds nice right now, though...

"If you look up, there are no limits."

 

 

Glancing through January posts from the past few years, I came across the one above. It was just what I needed to hear.

Ironic that it came from myself, isn't it?

I decided to repost it and not just because yesterday was Epiphany...

...Perhaps it's just what someone else needs to hear right now, too.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

"A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people."

~ Thomas Mann

If that's so, then I'm definitely a writer. There are times when writing isn't just difficult for me - it's pure hell.

But other times it's heaven, and that's why I stand here in January of 2012, once again repeating the mantra from past New Year's resolutions: finish my book... finish my book... finish my book...

In terms of writing, my 2011 looked a lot - too much - like 2010, 2009, 2008...

It's time to review what I've learned over my two decades or so of writing. I need to figure out what helps, and do more of that, while clearing the hurdles that are keeping me from the finish line.

Let's see... I've learned I need big chunks of time for writing. My writing can't thrive and grow on the handfuls of stolen minutes I've been feeding it for years.

I've learned multitasking is my enemy. I have to close all those extra windows on my computer that tempt me... Facebook being the main culprit, but email and even research sites can be time-sucking tempters.

Other things I've learned: I compare myself to others too often; I need the challenge, support and feedback of a writer's group; I have a problem with finishing what I start... and starting too many things.

On the 'up' side, I'm much better at saying 'no'. Housework, bills, laundry, cooking... I can easily shove the thought of them into a closet and forget they exist. Wearing earplugs helps me do the same with any nearby conversations or television noise. (I work at a desktop in the open livingroom.)

My biggest challenge for 2012? Finding a balance and setting priorities between all of my different interests/callings/projects... writing my book(s), blogging, photography, and my seed of a personal history/photography business... while not neglecting my family, friends and health.

Pretty much the same challenge I faced last year. And the year before. And the year before.

I hope that by next January, I can adopt a new mantra. At least for a different book.

'F' Words for 2012

In 2011, my thoughts ran wild like mustangs, my energy scattered into all different directions trying to chase them down.

True, creativity needs space and the freedom to run wild for a bit, to stretch its legs and grow strong... but if those thoughts scatter too far in too many directions... if they never return to the corral, never get reined in, never learn to work as a team... well, they're not good for anything but looking or sounding pretty.

I need more than that this year. 

{Prepare yourself... here come my 'F' words...}

In 2012, I'm going to put up Fences to structure my time... I'm going to corral those thoughts and Focus on one project at a time so I can experience Finishing something. 

I bet that's an amazing feeling.

My other 'F' words for 2012... Faith, Fitness, Friendship, Frugality and Financial Freedom. 

Oh, and Forgiveness... another awesome 'F' word...

"Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you." ~ Ephesians 4:31-32 

What about you? 

 Do you have a Theme,Word or Resolution for 2012? 

 

 

Gifts

O Sunrise, 
splendor of light eternal and sun of righteousness:
Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness 
and the shadow of death.

This sunrise was a gift, a splash of tangerine through my window reminding me that light conquers darkness, that each new day is a promise fulfilled, a gift to savor.

I rose at 4:30 this morning to write... a gift to myself but also to my family who has handed me the gift of flexible time and relative freedom to work on my creative pursuits, despite the echo of an empty bank account that goes with them. 

I owe it to them to face the empty pages head-on, to pull the right words out of my dreamy head and arrange them on the page the best I can, instead of just chasing them around in that dreamland of my imagination.

And I owe it to myself, because this isn't a pretty knick-knack you place on a shelf and admire, but the kind of gift you try to use up, the kind that won't last forever.

It's a gift I've wished for for so long that I've been hesitant to open it, as if I feared the beautiful thing inside wouldn't fit me.

I've wasted time fiddling with the ribbons, but not any more. This week I'm ripping into it, no longer worried about whether it will fit, but determined to make it my own.

I'm adding structure to my dreamland. No more vague boundaries between projects... I'm keeping track of my time, submerging myself in one venture at a time as much as possible, finding a balance between creative and business. 

No more multi-tasking, but pure focus on whatever I'm working on.

I've stepped back into my children's book; it's the closest to being finished and it just makes more sense to dress it up, slick back its cowlick,  and ship it off to a potential agent or two... and then get back to my historical fiction, where the research has become a bog, slowing my progress.

Besides... I missed my characters (Winston, Eddie, Reed and Nate) and felt guilty that I just left them hanging, poor kids. I could hear them calling my name every once in awhile, but like a busy mother told them, Not now. Go play.

I think they've forgiven me for neglecting them. They were a little stingy with the story yesterday, but today seemed to forget they were mad.... we had a pretty exciting morning!

I haven't forgotten my personal history business, but it's like a model plane I began building but had to set aside, without its wings.

This afternoon I spent a few hours transcribing those interviews with my parents from the summer. I love listening to their voices, hearing stories I've never heard, imagining them in their other lives, those aside from being Mama and Daddy.

It takes time, but to me, it's worth it. Their stories are a treasured gift to myself. I need to get this plane off the ground and help others discover the same treasure... the treasure of family stories. So a block of my day, or at least my week, is devoted to it, too.

I'm able to do all of this during the week before Christmas because TG and Daniel helped me decorate the house and tree. My cards are ordered - they'll go out after Christmas, but that's okay - the Christmas season runs into January. The Epiphany.

We have a "no-bought-gift" policy this year, so no frantic last minute shopping for me. The next couple of nights will find me baking cookies, editing and scanning and uploading photos... those are my gifts this year, gifts of my time and cooking and photography, but not I'm stressing or keeping tabs about what doesn't get done.

Why didn't we do this earlier? Somewhere along the way I feel we lost the point of our celebration... the birth of Jesus. 

On the phone with my oldest earlier this week, discussing our Christmas plans, I asked how he felt about not exchanging gifts this year. That triggered a near-rant that made my mother's heart soar, about the over-commercialization of Christmas and extreme emphasis on bought gifts. 

"I think Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday now... it's all about family and just hanging out with each other. I think that's how Christmas should be, too," he told me.

This isn't a drastic change in attitude for him - even when he was small he didn't ask for much, and when he was older, he scolded me for buying him things he didn't need.

The other two are the same way. I have no idea where their pragmatic, frugal outlook came from - I was a zealous 'gotta have lots under the tree' kind of mom for years and Tom's not much better - but I'm very grateful for their attitude now. Perhaps they just rubbed off on me. 

Those three are my best gifts ever.

Another gift... Tom's Pop is out of the hospital. Still no definite answers till test results arrive next week, though, so we appreciate your continued prayers!

 

 

 

Sugar Frosted Mornings and other Sweet!s

I stepped out into a frosted world... even the tops of the cedars sparkled in the first rays of morning light peeking into the Hollow.

The frozen mud crunched with each footstep. Like a tourist with their first glimpse of the Grand Canyon, I snapped photo after photo of crystal-crusted oak leaves, flowers, blades of grass, juniper berries,bits of dried wood and mud...

I've barely looked at my photos, though... Tom and I are headed to Florida to visit his parents, leaving our capable kids to take care of the house and dogs, and I've had too many stray to-do's I needed to round up before leaving.

I fell into a funk earlier this week, much like the fog that replaced those sparkling frosty mornings. Too much stress, too little sleep, worries over families or friends or finances... who knows what pulled me into that internal fog, but I took my own advice, counted my blessings, prayed, and just marched on ahead, knowing a clear blue sky waited just behind the cloud. 

It helped when I read these lines on The Blue Muse...

Whatever the reason, I feel calm and centered and as if I am basking in the glow of something wonderful.

I think I’ll wrap a bit of this glow up in a big old box, tie it with a very old, very pretty ribbon, and send it out to the world.

When it comes your way, I hope you’ll open it, take a big deep breath, and then send it back out with a smile.

Her words were my deep breath; when I exhaled, I could feel the shift back to center inside and the glow of the something wonderful she spoke of. I'm sending it back out, now, with a smile, in case there's someone else who needs that light.

I finally began decorating the house for Christmas Friday, memories spilling out of the boxes with each Santa or snowman I unpacked. In the past few years I've held back, only pulling out a fraction of my decorations, but this year I'm setting out every Christmas beany baby, every spray-painted glitter-sprinkled pine cone "tree", every crocheted Santa kiss and snowflake and angel, every ceramic fundraiser Nativity scene...

So now my house is splashed in Christmas kitsch and I love it. It wraps around me like a worn warm quilt I once thought of tossing out but now can't bear to part with.

I sit here now in a quiet house, after a day at work and then two Christmas parties... gatherings with dear friends I don't see often enough... trying to finish this post I started days ago. Beds are filled with people near to my heart, worn out from the week or maybe from dancing, but I'm still wide awake, savoring the sweetness... 

Sunday: receiving a blessing from your congregation; dancing a waltz, the Cotton-Eyed Joe, the Schottisch and the Twist, all in one night; Rudy's barbecue 

Monday: gratitude on your puppies' faces for letting them sleep inside on a cold, wet night 

Tuesday: homemade pizza; a Christmas party at a winery

Wednesday: frosty mornings; finally getting caught up on a week's worth of emails

Thursday: the first touch of the sun on autumn leaves; hamburgers grilled by your son; a surprise ornament from a friend waiting for you in the mailbox; visiting with friends in the church parking lot

Friday: morning fog gathered in a hollow; your neighbor's dog, recovering from being hit by a truck, actually running again... or at least trying to; keeping promises; your son helping you unpack Christmas and drape it around the house

Saturday: a walk with your puppies and sweetie before heading off to work; a customer taking the time to sing your praises to your supervisor; celebrating the season by gathering with friends and dancing in an airplane hangar; hugging 2/3 of your kids

Belated Sweet: your sister giving you the teapot your grandmother used almost every day for 60 years or so 

Wishing you a week full of sweet! moments!

26 Sweets (and then some)

 

I was 26.

I had felt the life inside of me, kicking my ribs, pressing on my bladder. Had heard the amplified swoosh swoosh of the heartbeat in the doctor's office. Had spent all night and most of the morning gritting my teeth and breathing heh-heh-heh through the waves of pain.

And then, there you were. My baby boy. 

They wrapped you in blue blankets, covered your head to keep it warm, and placed you in my nervous arms. 

I'd never held a baby this small before. Never even changed a diaper. How could I be a mother? What if I hurt you? The feeling swelled up from deep inside... I would die if anything happened to you. The strength of that thought overwhelmed me. The truth of it rang in my heart, through my bones and every pore of my body.

Your tiny face, so close to mine. Eyes tinted blue, bottomless pools that gazed into mine, full of all the wisdom of the world. I fell into those eyes, felt the miracle and mystery of life, all God-doubts forgotten. I was forever changed. 

Happy 26th birthday, Tommy! Meeting you and watching you grow into the man you've become has been one of the sweetest adventures of my life! 

And now for a few sweet moments from the past week...

Sunday: weddings and cake balls; a clear night sky full of stars; the glow of porch light when you get home late at night

Monday: warm jackets on frosty autumn mornings; working at home so you can take drum-playing breaks

Tuesday: your old puppy well enough, not only just to walk, but to run a little and play with his little sister; a church busy with helping hands

Wednesday: a fire in the woodburning stove on a cold morning; a few seconds in a clearing in the woods, just breathing; witnessing the Holy Spirit at work; news that your father-in-law is better and out of the hospital

Thursday: a card in the mail from a friend, just because it made her think of you; editing photos on your son's faster computer and larger monitor

Friday: sitting on the back porch, sipping coffee, watching waves of misty rain parade past; good news on a friend's major surgery; singing happy birthday to your son and thinking of all of the other birthdays gone by; a house full of twenty-somethings

Saturday: a house full of twenty-somethings; chatting with your oldest on the morning of his 26th birthday, wishing him happy birthday face-to-face

Hope you all have had a week full of sweet! moments, too!

And Tommy, I'm hoping 26 is as sweet for you as it was for me!

 

Ssssh! Don't Tell my Mom! (plus the Shutterfly winners)

Life has gotten crazy busy.

My oldest son and his girlfriend are heading here this evening, joined by a few of his 'old' college buddies who are driving in from Dallas. Tomorrow is his birthday and he's letting me celebrate it with him for the first time in years and years... well, since he left home for college. It will be a late night celebration, and simple. Just pizza and ice cream cake. But it will warm my heart getting to see him (briefly) on his actual birthday tomorrow.

However, come to think of it, it might only be his sleeping 26-year-old face I get to see; I have to leave for work relatively early and they'll probably stay up late tonight, which means they'll sleep in before heading out for another celebration downtown tomorrow night.

But I'll take what I can get and be grateful!

So... today I'm cleaning house. Not just a room here or there, but the whole dang thing, top to bottom. As soon as I finish with my writing duties, I'm going to put something energetic and old (like me) on the stereo... something like KC and the Sunshine Band or James Brown or Elvis... and become a dancing, singing, cleaning, whirling dervish.

I'm hoping to finish in time to drop in on a Christmas Bunco party tonight and visit with women I never get to see anymore before running back home to greet my oldest baby. Then there's work at the Bistro, a college graduation and more Christmas parties on this week's calendar, plus decorations and cards and photo editing and writing assignments hovering over my head. 

Which means something's gotta give, and as usual, it's sleep... enough that those little dark circles are appearing under my eyes.  I've also missed a couple of workouts this week because of extra jobs that popped up, blessings I can't turn down.

But please don't tell my mom - she'll worry. And don't tell my kids - I'm always nagging them to make sure they get enough sleep. Oh, they'd love to throw this back on me!

One thing I'm not cutting out - not yet, anyway - is my morning walk. Before it was even light this morning, Belle appeared at the window next to my computer, begging to get started. Max stood a few steps behind her... a black patch on the dark porch... and that was unusual; he usually lets her do the begging alone, happy to relax in his bed on the front porch until I step out the door.

I could hear the rain hitting the roof. I guess they were as relieved and excited by the steady, light rain as I was... and I was glad they were eager for a walk. Cool, rainy days are the most beautiful when you're out in them, wrapped in a warm jacket and protected from total drenching by an umbrella. Colors deepen - greens, browns, golds, rusts - and everything glistens, bedazzled in crystal drops. 

No photographs. It was too wet to risk my camera. Belle's begging at the window again now, though, and the rain has stopped. Perhaps I'll wander out with my camera before I get busy cleaning and capture some of the rain bling...

But then... that's why my house is so dirty. All those, "But first..."s.

Ah, well. I'll just go ahead and share a couple I took the last time it rained and get busy cleaning...

And now, I won't drag it out any longer. Here are the winners of the Shutterfly card giveaway... 

Congratulations to Hilary at The Smitten Image, Gail at Louisiana Belle and Walker at A Woman's Page! I'll send you each the codes for your free 25 cards!

I wish everyone who entered could have won. I really hate leaving people out and I loved hearing all of your sweet! moments. Thanks for sharing them!

 

Returning to Me

With the birth of my first child, my ego, dreams, and most other aspects of Me as I knew Me sloughed off like a snake skin, forgotten. I was a Mother now! That tiny little being depended on me and by golly, that's all that mattered.

Within a few years, I had two more little beings depending on me. Throughout my thirties and most of my forties, I was just Mom. Busy, practical and unselfish.

Oh, I toyed with my old dreams. Took a few classes at the community college. Had some essays published. Met my girlfriends for dinner and a movie every once in a while. Worked some part-time jobs.

For years I held onto enough ego to battle my body over the same 15 pounds, but when semi-daily walks with my dogs, periodic lifting of light weights and eating healthy-ish didn't make a difference, I finally gave up and accepted my body as it was.

I was way too mature and sensible to care that the varicose veins on my right leg were so bad a new friend asked if I'd been in a car wreck, thinking they were horrible scars. I cringed a bit myself when I looked at them, but I hated to be so vain and selfish as to undergo the pain and expense of surgery. There were so many other things we needed.

Then my oldest son left for college.

Oh, my heart ached! For days I would suddenly burst into tears over the pain; it hurt so badly! One day I realized my tears weren't falling just because I missed my son; that's what triggered them, but my tears fell because I could suddenly feel Life, as I knew it, changing. Soon, my two youngest would follow their big brother out of the nest.

I would always be a mother, but I knew the end of my days as Mom was just a few years away. It made me feel...old. And I wondered, if I'm not Mom anymore, what will I be? Who will I be?

Some might call what happened next a case of the MidLife Crazies. I just call it Returning to Me.

You can be anything you want to be. I had told my kids that over and over because I believed it, and now was my chance to act on it. I would be Me. The best Me possible, for as long as possible. I wasn't ready to be old.

I took bits from each of my previous selves: the spoiled youngest child, the tomboy, the homecoming queen, the scholar, the thinker, the independent woman, the dancer, the newlywed, the mother, the daughter, friend, the volunteer, the writer, the photographer, and even, thanks to my husband, the wanna-be drummer.

Dusting off my dreams, I signed up for college classes, one per semester. Over the next few years, I started a blog and began teaching myself digital photography. I wrote a screenplay, polished up one book, and started another.

I reconnected with friends, other women who were going through the same changes I was experiencing, including friends I'd known since childhood, before any of us were wives or mothers. They helped me rediscover the Me I was back then.

I made my own health a priority, scheduling time every day for a workout. I began running again for the first time in years. Part of my motivation was ego, I admit, but I knew others still depended on me; I needed to be in the best shape possible so I could take care of them. Heart disease runs in my family. I wanted to be a good example to my kids, who carry the same genes.

My hair was thinning at an alarming rate, so I educated myself about nutrition and made huge changes in my diet. It didn't have any affect on my hair, but between those changes and my stepped-up physical work-outs, I finally dropped those 15 pounds I'd given up on. What a great surprise!

With my ego fully out of the closet, I treated myself to varicose vein surgery for my 47th birthday, deciding I was too young to wear nothing but ankle-length dresses the rest of my life.

All of these changes acted as defensive armor just in the nick of time, preparing me for the assault of menopause. I've experienced a few hot flashes, but not the mood swings, weight gain, severe sweats, or disrupted sleep some of my friends complain about.

My kids have all flown the nest now; but instead of crying, I feel like I'm flying with them.

The people at Pfizer are interested in helping all of us find our wings and keep flying through these strange, trying, wonderful midlife years and hope to accomplish that through their "Return to You" program, a program aimed at helping women return to their best selves.

Have YOU had a Return to You moment? Please share it with me in the comments; I'd love to hear your story!

Visit the Pfizer Return to You page on BlogHer.com for more blogger stories and prepare to be inspired!

Simplify! (and my Saturday Sweet Report)

"Simplify, organize, simplify..." a small voice has been chanting in my head lately, making it difficult to concentrate.

So when my friend Gwen invited me to add some of my things to her garage sale this weekend, I jumped on the chance to de-clutter.

By yesterday morning, my car was loaded with two large boxes for the garage sale - one of clothes and another of junk like lampshades, 90's jewelry, steam hair rollers and clocks. 

On my way to Gwen's I would be passing a Half Price Books store, so I also loaded up two boxes of textbooks we've been hoarding for some insane reason... some were from my brief engineering student days, for goodness' sake, relics of the dark ages when a pocket calculator cost hundreds of dollars and a computer filled an entire room.

Someone please tell me why I thought I should save those?

Half Price gave me $9 and an offer to recycle the ones they didn't want (probably my college books!) Thank you and good riddance!

Unfortunately, those boxes didn't make a dent in the junk inventory. For the next few weeks, I foresee an internal battle between my alter egos (the collector/hoarder and the zealous tosser/organizer) over what to toss and what to keep. Please wish me luck! The zealous/organizer is responsible for throwing away my journals from 3rd grade all through high school. She's dangerous!

So please also wish me a clean, organized, but interesting and eclectic decor, with no lingering regrets!

And now for my Saturday Sweet Report... 

Saturday: celebrating your mother's 80th birthday; your toddler niece reaching out to you for a cuddle

Sunday: wishing your Mama a happy 80th birthday in person; your Daddy's bacon and biscuits for breakfast; baby squirrels taking peanuts straight from your son's hand; your mom in a sombrero; a son who is addicted to books, just like you are; your oldest running his first marathon

 

Monday: an Indian summer morning; getting paid to write

Tuesday: a good soaking rain; photography friends who give advice and tips; Google, when you're learning something new and can't afford a class; people who make free tutorials

 

Wednesday: sunshine in the morning after a rainy day; a surprise visit from a friend; meeting a writing deadline; a call from your youngest; a POTW from Hilary!; a husband who shops and cooks so you can keep working on your dreams 

Thursday: the sound of a woodpecker filtering through the trees; finally sending the Cd of photos from your first shoot off to your client; bumping into a neighbor at the post office; an afternoon walk through the woods with your puppies

 

Friday: a happy photography client; lunch with girlfriends; ridding your house of two boxes of old textbooks, one box of clothes and another one of junk; visiting with three generations of beautiful blondes; lace and velvet Christmas dresses, in size 3Toddler 

Saturday: a friend who lets you put things in her garage sale even though you can't help work it; autumn leaves falling on the road in front of you; helping break a sales record where you work; sitting down after a long day on your feet; making $30 on things you would have tossed away; a movie that makes you both smile and cry at the end

 

Hope you've collected plenty of Sweet!s, too!

 

 

"The Best Laid Schemes..." (What happened to Monday and Tuesday?)

According to my calendar, I'm in Galveston right now, visiting my friend Ann, finally getting to see the cute little Victorian house she's fixing up and browsing through some wonderful eclectic shops.

Things don't always go according to plan, though, do they?

Instead of strolling the tourist-free beaches and staying up late talking and laughing with my dear friend, I've spent the past two days glued to this old computer, spending hours and hours on projects that should have only taken half the time.

(I'm beginning to wonder if shoveling coal into it might make it go any faster. I don't think it could hurt!)

Ann's free days evaporated, too, anyway, complicated by family schedules. We're going to try again in the next month or two. Why are our lives still so complicated?

I'm grateful for the work that's keeping me glued to the computer, though. One is a photo shoot from a couple of weeks ago that forced me to learn Lightoom. I'm by no means an expert, but I've learned so much, thanks to tutorials and photography friends (thank you, Beth!) and learning something new is so much fun! (And frustrating. And agonizing.)

Unfortunately, one thing I've learned is that my E: drive on my computer has gone kaputz. Nothing like a few hurdles in your path to keep you on your toes, right?

The second project was a review for BlogHer with a quick turnaround, as in, I learned about it yesterday and the deadline was this morning. And I (pretty much) turned it in on time. Ahem.

It wasn't a typical product review... more of a personal essay on health and aging and menopause, so I was happy I was chosen for the project.

I can't believe it's already Wednesday, though. Here are a few highlights from the past few days...

 

My mother turned 80! Middle-son Daniel went with me for the celebration at my parents' house. I enjoy road trips with Daniel - he helps me find good radio stations and doesn't mind me singing along loudly, even when I don't really know the words. 

It was a quick visit with family, highlighted by fried Gulf shrimp, birthday cake, breakfast by Daddy, plenty of coffee, Mexican food, and my mother in a birthday sombrero... 

...which matches this one of my dad from last month...

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Oldest-son Tommy ran his first full marathon! If you knew all the nights I stayed up with him while he struggled to breathe with his asthma, you'd really understand how very proud I am! And how relieved I was that he crossed that line, safe and sound and breathing!

This photo was snapped by his sweetheart, Kirby. She completed her second half-marathon that day. 

Yay, Tommy and Kirby!

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I won a blog drawing!! This cute cup featuring a 'doodle' by Cyndee at Eloise's Collage arrived in my mailbox Friday. I love it! Thank you, Cyndee! 

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Remember the Thanksgiving Comes First campaign? Thanks to Suldog, I found out about a petition to "Tell Target to Save Thanksgiving". If you want to add your name, click HERE.

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It rained yesterday! I mean, really and truly rained!

Well, not enough to capture a photo of the actual rain, but I did get one this morning of a dew-covered wildflower...

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Last but not least, Hilary at the Smitten Image awarded me a Post of the Week for As if I were beside you... Thank you, Hilary!

(Click the icon below to go read the other POTW and see her wonderful photography.)

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I hope you're having a wonderful week, even if your plans went agley like mine!

(At least I wasn't left with "nought but grief an' pain"...)

 

...The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

~from To a Mouse by Robert Burnes

First Days

Looking sharp in "business casual", he tucked his lunch into his backpack and headed out the door with Tom this morning before dawn. It's Daniel's first day at his post-college-graduation, adult-world job. He and Tom are carpooling right now until Daniel gets his own place in town.

I stood there watching him as he grabbed a banana and a couple of oranges from bowls on the kitchen island. He sported a new shirt, slacks and shoes... so reminiscent of other "first days" when he wore his favorite set of new school clothes and a clutched a superhero-decorated lunchbox free of crumbs and grime. I almost grabbed my camera to capture the image of him standing by the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder, like I always did in those days that don't seem that long ago...

...But I held back. I'm not sure why. There seemed to be a line I would be crossing, a line that appears once your baby birds have tested their wings and learned they're capable of flying on their own. It's a wavery line, though, hard to see at times and I'm sure I step over it occasionally, purely out of old habit. But I'm getting better at spotting it and staying on my side.

I think I am, anyway.

Daniel plans to look for his own place soon. That makes me happy and sad, all at the same time. Happy because it's the way it should be. Sad because I enjoy having him around, of course. 

Happy and sad... a mother's braid of feelings she wears most of her life when it comes to her children.

I don't take it personally that he's eager to move out. Lord knows, living with me and Tom would drive anyone nuts, but I think it has more to do with this: 

He's 23... his wings are more than capable of flying where ever he wishes to go...

Life, according to an Arabic proverb, is composed of two parts: that which is past - a dream; and that which is to come - a wish. ~ G.A. Sala

(I didn't have one from today, so I'm posting this one... his first day of kindergarten. It took awhile, but all that education has finally paid off. I bet I still have that lunchbox somewhere...)

Anyway, I hope this is the best first day ever, Daniel!

 

 

Halloween Memories and other Sweet!s

My Friday drifted away from me. I had a tight grip on it but then next thing I knew it was gone. 

It was one of those impulsive days... the kind where I start one thing and in the middle veer off onto something completely different... where I get a lot of little things done but nothing much accomplished to speak of.

Despite the overall feeling of being stuck in Wonderland, there were two side trips I'm happy I made:

1. I played the drums. Only 15 minutes or so, but it's been weeks since I picked up my drumsticks. Again. I still sound like a little kid pretending to be a drummer, but it is soooo much fun.

2. I changed out my "Kids Pictures". There's this little Duncan Phyfe side table near the front door where I keep 7 or 8 snapshots of my kids when they were little in whatever season it happens to be... for instance, up until today, they were all holding brand new lunchboxes and looking spiffy in their favorite "first-day-of-school" clothes. Now they're all looking out at me so precious in their Halloween costumes, making me feel wistful and melancholy over how fast the years went by (conveniently forgetting how stressful it was trying to help everyone "be" who they wanted to be.)   Sigh.

 

See what I mean? Just so dang cute! And so cuddly-little!

Years ago, when I first started changing seasons, photographically-speaking, on the side table, seeing these little faces reminded me that the teenagers I lived with at the time used to be sweet and lovable munchkins who liked to snuggle up with me while I read to them.

Now, some seasons, I actually slip in a few photos of them as teenagers because it reminds me of all the fun we had... because they really always have been fun kids. Well, mostly.

Sigh. 

Anyway... now I'm headed off for a long shift at the Bistro, but before I go, I want to share some other Sweet! moments of my past week... 

Sunday: finally making it to Barton Creek Mall; an afternoon with your daughter; shopping for hours and somehow managing not to buy anything; crawling in bed when you're really, really tired

Monday: a sunrise walk with your puppies; thinking of a sweet friend on her birthday; catching up on email - sort of; a clean bathroom and empty laundry hamper; knowing your sister made it home safely from a long road trip

Tuesday: joyful puppies; fluffs of pink-orange morning clouds; no lines at the post office; finding a package from a friend in the mailbox; finally making it to the grocery store!; a son who helps carry in groceries and put them away; jalapeno/swiss cheese hamburgers; listening to a cd of Peter Frampton's recent live concert while you work

Wednesday: more and more yellow flowers popping up along the road; lunch with two dear friends for the second week in a row; portobello mushroom tacos; finding tutorial videos on Photoshop Elements and actually learning a little bit; Modern Family's Halloween episode, even if it's a repeat

Thursday: getting $4 at Buffalo Exchange for a pair of shorts you paid 50 cents for years ago; finally getting the chance to take photos of the nuns on top of Toy Joy; a much needed haircut and re-blonding; thrift store Halloween costume shopping with your daughter; your son introducing you to another funny cable show (now on Netflix!); sticking to your guns about something; watching a teensy part of the World Series next to your sweetie

Friday: autumn temperatures that stick around all day; beautiful skies; Belle grinning; a RealAge.com age 4.5 years younger than your real age; playing the drums; glancing through old photos of your oh-so-small-and-cute Halloween-costumed kids; getting rewarded (sort of) for sticking to your guns

Saturday: sleeping in; walking with your sweetie and the puppies on a brisk autumn morning; connecting on Facebook with one of your husband's distant Australian cousins who has the same name as your son

 

Hope you all have a beautiful Saturday!

Ambience Lost

 

 

Writers, especially those trying to write at a desktop in the middle of the livingroom in a houseful of people, know you have to learn to tune everything out around you. And anyone who works from home and hopes to accomplish anything at all has to learn to ignore laundry, dishes, dust...

I've developed both of those skills to an extraordinary level. From dusty furniture to photos I've promised people... I can procrastinate them all.

But there's a time for everything - a level of, um, "dirty house" that just can't be ignored anymore. Mine reached that level weeks ago. I just didn't know it until my focus began to blur. 

It was like those nasty mosquitos that have taken over the Hollow near the creekbed lately, buzzing and biting until finally there are so many you can't enjoy your walk because you're too busy slapping them off your shoulders and legs.

So I cleaned my bathroom yesterday. 

Yeah, it's just a drop in the bucket, or, well, one room in a whole house, but hey, it's a start! And getting started, for me, is the toughest part of anything.

And when I say I cleaned it, I mean I scrubbed the shower and the floor... I took all of the rose plates off the wall and washed them in the kitchen sink... I dusted my little vases and photos (although I didn't go so far as to dust each separate spiral Mexican shell sitting in a blue bowl on the counter.)

I shouldn't admit this, but I spent hours on just that one room. When I was through, I lit a candle and relaxed for a few minutes, savoring the clean-ness. I love that room - next to the library, it's my favorite. I truly owed it an apology. 

I also annihilated the overflowing piles of laundry and scratched several unrelated things off of my to-do list yesterday. It felt really, really good.

I have too many deadlines and projects and jobs right now to spend a whole week cleaning and organizing like I need to, so I'm not completely mosquito-free, but I'm promising myself I'll spend at least a day or two each week swatting the rest of them until the buzzing in my ears stops. I know that, until then, I'm going to feel a little out-of-balance and out-of-focus.

Does anyone else have this problem? How do you find time to stay on top of everything? 

I’ve learned that we can do anything, but we can’t do everything… at least not at the same time. Timing is everything.

~Dan Millman 

 

Love at First Bark

I start almost every morning with a walk down my dirt road with Belle and Max. Their joie de vivre is palpable. Contagious.

I'm addicted to these walks, to watching my "puppies" greet each new day with passion and energy and optimism. 

Max and Belle were both strays who wandered up to strange houses with a dog's pure faith they would be helped. At the time each of them entered our lives, I didn't think I wanted any more dogs. Too expensive, too constraining of our time, too much heartbreak when they die.

Now I give thanks every morning and several times during the day - well, anytime I look into those big brown eyes - that God brought these little black and brown angels into our lives. He knew just what we needed.

He always does. And Max and Belle remind me of that every day.

 

When I was young, the sight of a stray dog broke my heart. Molded by stories like "Black Beauty", "Old Yeller" and "Call of the Wild", where animals struggle to find a good home,  I dreamed that when I grew up, I'd own a ranch where I could take in every stray I found.

Well, I grew up. The cost for housing, food and medical issues alone for that dream to come true snapped me back to reality. It didn't help that I'm allergic to animals. I'd need a fortune just to buy all that Benadryl.

So you can see why I jumped at the chance to review ("read for free") Julie Klam's book Love at First Bark, for the BlogHer Book Club, especially when the subtitle read "How Saving a Dog Can Sometimes Help You Save Yourself".

I know how true that statement is, that dogs can help you save yourself...

Max came along just when my oldest headed off to college and the other two were close on his heels. Did you know that a goofy German Shepherd-Great Dane puppy is very similar to a 4-year-old? Max became my perpetual 4-year-old and eagerly accepted all the baby talk and (s)mothering attention my human kids had outgrown, making my transition to Empty Nest so much easier. 

Belle came along just in time to save Max, who was despondent after our old dog Charly's death. She revived the "puppy" in him. (Saving Max = saving me. Thank you, Belle!)

However, except for the first chapter where Julie describes how helping an abandoned pit bull essentially saved her marriage, the rest of the book just relates different dog rescues. It's a good book, peppered with Julie's humor, but it didn't grab me the way I thought it would. It felt passive and inconsistent, sort of rushed. 

What keeps it a "good" book in my opinion, and why I believe it's worth reading, is the well-deserved recognition it gives to unsung heroes around the country who are essentially living my dream of helping stray dogs, either through rescues or by adoption or foster care.

Before reading this, I didn't have a clue there were so many organizations (all understaffed and underfunded, of course) and individuals who go miles out of their way to help. Hearing the lengths they go to just to rescue one dog is inspiring. Kudos to Julie and all of the others who do this regularly, who think nothing of adding an incontinent dog to their already large collection of pooches or run through a swamp and duck under a train to help a stray with a jar stuck on its head.

So if you want information about dog rescues or rescuers, I recommend it. But if you're hoping for heartwarming, life-changing stories that send you scrambling for a box of tissue, look somewhere else... after you read the first chapter about Morris the Pit Bull, that is.

Full Disclosure: I was compensated for this BlogHer Book Club review but all opinions expressed are my own.

Finding the Rhythm

This morning the sun's red-orange fingertips barely touched the horizon when I stepped out onto the road for my walk. Belle and Max, prancing in the pre-dawn darkness just beyond the French doors, had convinced me not to wait until daylight.

A rowdy wind whipped down the road, whistling through the trees and playing with my hair. A cold front was passing through - well, "cold" by Texas standards, anyway - and despite my sweat pants and hoodie, I shivered. 

Autumn's no longer hinting around, I thought, it's moving on in. Then I remembered the rhythm of the seasons; the transition from one to the next is never overnight, a "honey I'm home!", but more of a flirtation, a dance... up two, back one, up two, back one... although the ultimate marriage is pretty one-sided.

That started me thinking about rhythms and transitions...

You grab the chains and walk backwards as far as you can. With a little hop, you plop your bottom onto the seat, lean back and extend your legs. Thus begins the back and forth, pull with the arms, pull with the legs rhythm until finally, finally you're soaring up, up, up above the trees, into the clouds... and back down again... then up, up, up... gliding with hardly any effort at all...

You grip the oar, lean forward and dip it into the water. You dig deep and pull, pull back toward you, past you, then lift it free, resting it on your lap as you glide smoothly forward with no effort. Then you lean forward and dip it into the water again...

For four minutes I jog, easy does it... then as soon as I enter the fifth minute, I push the little button to speed up my treadmill, kicking and stretching to keep up with the pace. I run as fast as I can for one solid minute, then back it back down to an easy pace for four more. Then I push the button...

With each there is exertion and rest, exertion and rest... a steady movement that inches you farther or further along in your goal.

It hit me I'm in such a transition right now. I have been for some time, but I just lose my momentum every now and then and have to get that push, pull thing going again.

Work, rest, work, rest.

What a great lesson. I need to remember this one, if I ever hope to soar.

 

 

Work and leisure are complementary parts of the same process. They cannot be separated without destroying the joy of work and the bliss of leisure.

E.F. Schumacher

 

He would have been 64.

Thoughts of my brother Buster flitted in and out of my mind today. My parents drove out to the cemetery as I'm sure they've done every October 16 for 29 years. As I'm sure I would do if I were in their place.

I hope I'm never in their place.

The following is a re-post from 2008. I've included a few more photos, but otherwise there's nothing more to add except to say, I'm thinking of you, Buster. You're always in our hearts.

      Here's a rare picture of me with all of my siblings - Brenda's holding me, Donnie is lying behind us, and Buster, the big brother of us all, is on the right.   

      Yesterday was Buster's birthday - it's hard for me to imagine he would have been sixty-one. It's hard for me to imagine I'm now older by more than a decade than he was in my last memory of him, when I stood beside him in the hospital, kissed him, told him I loved him, and told him good-bye. We knew he wouldn't be coming out of his coma. 

      Even now I cry when I think of it. I can't imagine, don't want to imagine, how it feels to my parents, losing a child. 

      In my earliest memories, Buster had already left home. There's a memory of us visiting him at his Army Boot Camp graduation in Louisiana, and one of him taking me to a carnival, where he won me a soapstone bank shaped like a cartoonish hound dog."Grumpy" is still with me, sitting high on a shelf in the livingroom, a reminder that my big brother loved me and spoiled me. On his visits home, he doted on me...a trail of small footprints meandered across the ceilings in our house because minutes after coming through the door he would comply with my demands to "Walk me on the ceiling!" He would grab me, flip me upside down and hold me up (giggling and squealing) so that I could walk in that imaginary topsy-turvy world.  Mama says he was crazy about me when I was a baby...he would even wash the styling grease out his hair so I could play with his dark brown curls. I can't remember that, but I do remember sitting on the front row of his wedding, crying. I must have sensed that things would change between us.

      Through most of my life he was in the background, a shadow...Buster was busy with his adult life and I was busy with my childhood and they rarely intersected. He became a father and I loved being an aunt. He went to Viet Nam - twice - and we hung a map up on the hallway wall, keeping track of his whereabouts with pushpins. He divorced and gave up custody of his son, and I didn't understand.

     Our lives collided again just before Christmas in 1973. I was watching television in the darkened livingroom, the colored lights on the Christmas tree splashing a kaleidoscope on the walls, when the phone rang. I heard Mam-ma's voice talking, then her silhouette appeared framed in the doorway. "Buster's been shot." 

      I remember Brenda and I pulling in to the dark parking lot of Houston's Ben Taub Hospital, rushing through the glaring white halls, dodging solemn faces overflowing from the waiting rooms, just in time to see Buster, his body bruised and bloody, being wheeled in on a gurney. He disappeared through the white double doors of the operating room.

      Mama refused to leave the hospital for ten days, until she knew he was going to make it. She slept in stolen snatches on a hard wooden bench in the lobby. Daddy brought her fresh clothes and she washed up in the ladies' room.

      My once tall, muscular big brother was now a quadriplegic. He came home from Viet Nam only to be shot in a bar just outside of Houston. One of the bullets severed his spinal cord.

      Over the next few years he was in and out of hospitals...he attended the University of Texas and then Victoria College, getting a degree in business...he started a guard dog business and learned to drive with hand controls...he wrote poetry and loved debating with his friends about religion and what ever else got them stirred up. He could be moody, unpredictable, and gripped by bouts of depression - just like me, a teenager during those years, too consumed with my own life to pay close attention to what was going on in his.

       We didn't get along very well. He loved to tease me and embarrass my boyfriends. Except Tom...Tom just let it roll off of him.

       Just before his thirty-fourth birthday, Buster went in the hospital for surgery. The next day he went into the coma. Within a few days, he was gone and I realized how much I loved him, and how much I would miss him. I wished I had told him I loved him more often when I had the chance.

       Not long after his death, I woke to find him standing in my room. Standing. We didn't speak. Perhaps it was a dream, but it doesn't matter...in my heart I knew he was sending me a message because he knew I loved him and would want to know that he was once again tall and strong, healthy and whole, just like he was in my childhood.

Twenty-Three? How is that possible?

"Daniel, you're going to be 23 in two days!"

"Yeah, I know, mom."

Whoa. That thought hit me while we were driving back from town two days ago. There I was, comfortably cruising along with him being 22, and next thing I knew, a whole year had zoomed by, just a blur out my window, it moved so fast.

And now here we are on October 13, the day 23 years ago that I first laid eyes on this amazing kid... um, man... oh, gosh, what do you call your kids when they get to be so old?

...love at first sight...

...I swear this was yesterday and not two decades ago...

This will be the first birthday in several years I'll get to see him on his actual birthday, since he's back living at home.

I know it's not where he hoped to be on his 23rd birthday, but he's got such a great attitude about it, teaching me by example about hope, optimism and 'chill'. 

He's been spoiling me and Tom while he's here... loading the dishwasher, taking out the trash without being asked, feeding and walking the dogs, cooking dinner, helping Tom with jobs around the property, watching movies with us... whatever we ask him to do, he jumps on it, eager to help.  He even seems to enjoy being with us! Most of the time, anyway.

Tom and I got used to that really quick. I feel blessed having this extra time with him, not because he's so helpful (although that's a definite plus!) but because he's just a great kid man guy (there, that sounds right)... so funny and smart, as well as thoughtful. (I've already written tons about how great he is HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE if you don't believe me.) 

So today I'll make sure I don't ask him to do anything. I'll try to go back to my old ways and spoil him by cooking him breakfast (he's sleeping in for a change... one advantage of not having a job yet!), fixing the King Ranch Casserole he requested (after dozens of "What do you want for your birthday?" pleas from me) and the Cyclops cookies he didn't request but I know he loves.

(Why is it mothering always revolves around food, especially when our babies get older?)

So Happy 23rd birthday, Daniel.

May you have clear paths and bright skies.

And no matter what this year brings,

I hope you continue to "Be silly. Be honest. Be kind."  

(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Also... Happy birthday wishes to Kim, my sweet previously-Montana-now-Arizona sister-in-law... young cousins Ashley, Kayce and Kayce's daughter, Tayvie (celebrating her first birthday!)... and Pete, my inspirational blogging friend, who wrote a wonderful, reflective piece today in honor of his birthday (go here to read it - it's great!) 

 

Retreat to the Sea

 For whatever we lose (like a you or a me),

 It's always our self we find in the sea.

~e.e. cummings

 

For the past few weeks, I've felt like a jumping bean, hopping from one project to the next, never quite finishing one before moving on to another, mentally filling to overflowing a shelf labeled "Later".

I had lost my balance, knocking it aside somewhere in my zeal to conquer my dreams, get organized, and make money, all at the same time. No matter how hard I tried to breathe, to focus on each moment, I couldn't stop that little hyper bean inside of me that couldn't just enjoy the present but had to continually jump ahead, or sideways, or backwards.

Then Thursday afternoon I stepped onto Mustang Island.

One look at the waves rolling in, rolling out... one deep breath of the salty air...one note of the symphony of crashing waves and cries of seagulls...

That's all it took for the stillness to return, as if the waves and the air loosened the knots and cleansed my spirit. The symphony soothed me... a lullaby chasing away the helter-skelter bits of thought in my brain.

I find myself at the extremity of a long beach.  How gladly does the spirit leap forth, and suddenly enlarge its sense of being to the full extent of the broad, blue, sunny deep!  A greeting and a homage to the Sea!  I descend over its margin, and dip my hand into the wave that meets me, and bathe my brow.  That far-resounding roar is the Ocean's voice of welcome.  His salt breath brings a blessing along with it.  ~Nathaniel Hawthorne, "Foot-prints on the Sea-shore"

That's why my friends and I run away every year to the sea. This was our 12th annual retreat, a time to reconnect with these friends, but also with myself.

To think of nothing, but to see and experience everything.

Year before last, we encountered Laura Bush on the beach and discovered Stoney LaRue. Last year my high school Divas joined us, and although the numbers made it tougher for me to spend time with everyone as much as I hoped, priceless memories were made.

This year I had no expectations, especially considering the highs of the past two. I only craved simplicity and silence. I hoped for sun, but would have smiled at raindrops.

But it didn't rain. Thursday afternoon's storm clouds cleared out and blue skies ruled the rest of the weekend. Thanks to this year's drought, there were no mosquitos. And on our one night of dancing, we had plenty of dance partners for a change, including some who knew how to spin me around country-style.

This year, I didn't worry about running every morning or about waking at the crack of dawn to photograph the sunrise each day, although I did manage each of them once.

This year I read. I wandered with my camera. I prayed. I met an artist, Marilyn Lindholm, who asked for one of my photographs of a rainbow umbrella and invited me along on a photo-staging of wine glasses and driftwood.

I spent hours listening to the waves, watching porpoises, seagulls and cute little seabirds, drinking Bloody Mary's and talking about life with fifteen other wonderful women, including my sweet sister Brenda, healed enough from her hip surgery six months ago to drive herself to the coast. She even made it down to the beach and the swimming pool. (Thank you for all your prayers for her.)

Hanging on to the stillness will be a challenge, I know. I felt that restlessness waking up with me Monday morning with just one glance at my to-do list. But if I close my eyes I can hear the waves, reaching in, pulling out, reminding me to hang on to the rhythm of life, and leave the rest behind.

It helps to have some photos. I haven't finished going through the ones I took, but here are a few...

A magical moment... My friend Cheryl spotted this little Yellow Warbler cowering in a corner of the boardwalk. He hopped on her finger and stayed put for an extended photo shoot. She thought he was injured and was trying to decide how to take care of him when suddenly, whoosh! he was gone, flying out over the dunes. 

Such a sweet little thing. And what a model!

Schools of fish teamed just offshore, so the pelicans and seagulls (and even a few porpoises) were going nuts. 

There's always at least one woman who feels a need to give everyone something - this year it was Mary Kay and her niece, Tiffany. I've given up protesting.

How could you protest something like this, anyway?

We always treat ourselves to dinner out one night - can't beat fresh seafood straight from the gulf! 

A table for 16, please...

Me and my sweet sister... (note the 'character scar' on my nose, my souvenir from our little wreck a couple of weeks ago.)

Where I lived for two full days...

In my normal life I can barely sit still through a movie, yet I had no problem lying for hours on a hard plastic lounge chair. Go figure.

Mary Kay, the University of Texas Longhorns #1 Fan! (We stomped Iowa State!)

These precious little girls kept us all sighing over their cuteness on Saturday. I took dozens of photos and I don't even know them!

You can imagine how many photos of sea birds I took - I'll post most of them on Confessions later (uh-oh... "later" is already popping up.)

There were almost as many dogs as birds at the beach this time! Total exaggeration, of course, but there were a lot. I loved this trio of ladies... Lucy, and, um, ah, I can't remember the other two but they started with 'L's. 

Our traditional photo of the whole group just before final hugs and heading back to the real world, mostly in different directions. 

Spotted this sign in the restroom of the restaurant and ran back with my camera, ignoring the stares. I think it pretty much sums up our weekend.

Steve Jobs: Live Before You Die

I rarely watch videos (who has time?) but made an exception for this one.

By the end of it, I was in tears.

His words spoke straight to me as much as to those kids just stepping into their lives.

I'm starting my day with a renewed vow not to waste another minute.

Thanks, Steve, for your vision, your drive, your creativity, your courage and for your inspiring words.  

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

~Steve Jobs

 

 

                 

Out of Focus (and my Weekly Sweet! List)

I dropped off my camera last Thursday for some much needed TLC. It was way overdue. Just imagine... four years of trips to the beach and walks down my dusty road.

Oh, poor, neglected thing. 

When I finally had it back in my hands, I expected it to work like it was brand new. Instead, the autofocus wouldn't work. I could slip it into manual, but obviously something was wrong.

After a phone call to the shop and a glance at my camera manual, it turned out I just needed to hit 'reset'. 

 Works like a charm, now as you can see. 

I wish I had a "reset" button somewhere on me. My autofocus is shot and my manual focus isn't even working too great either. All I see is a blur as I dash from one thing to another, with a nagging feeling that I'm not making progress anywhere, merely running in circles.

Beth, a friend of mine, posted a photography tip recently: "be careful what you focus on".

Her advice keeps running through my head. Maybe that's what's wrong - I'm not being careful with my focus. In trying to focus on everything within view, it all turns out a blurry mess.

So that's my goal for next week - pushing 'reset' and finding my focus...

*********

Keeping track of the Sweet! moments in my life helps a little... but I've even had a tougher time focusing on these this week...

Sunday: photos and videos proving your boys on vacation in Germany are still alive and well and having fun;

Monday: being reunited with your camera; black and brown puppies, in sizes Small, Medium and Xtra-large, all playing together sweetly

Tuesday: wishing your parents a happy 62nd wedding anniversary; your sister healed enough from her hip surgery to drive; hearing how your puppy defended her 'niece' from a potential neighborhood bully

Wednesday: morning Mass; black butterflies; your "broken" camera miraculously working with just the push of a reset button; being forced to learn more about your camera

Thursday: a clean(er) house; a message that your kids made it to Prague safe and sound

Friday: two calls from your daughter in one day; an update from your globetrotting boys; a surprise chat with your brother-in-law; scanning photos, turning the pages in your memory

Saturday: waking before the alarm, ready to start your day; the sun rising on the Hollow, full of greens and golds

I hope you've had plenty of sweet moments this week and they continue into the weekend! Wish me luck adjusting my focus!

Me in a Hard Hat

"I can't picture you in a hard hat," Bob from my church told me after reading "A View from a Catwalk". 

I've spent the last two days thumbing through thirteen years of photos in preparation for a DuPont reunion and thought of Bob every time I came across one of me in my hard hat.

So here you go, Bob. This one's for you.

Me and JD. I remember the day it was taken. A photographer was roaming the plant, taking promotional photos. He asked us to pretend we were working on something. I felt silly. JD, on the other hand, went right to work on that water station.

JD was a sweet guy. We shared a passion for genealogy; he's the one who lit the fire in me to start researching my lines at the Clayton Library in Houston. His was trying to track down family behind the Iron Curtain at the time. He hinted at a big scandal.

He also taught me how to look at my pay stub, to make sure my overtime was correct and things like that that I'd never even thought about. Before donning the hard hat, he drove a UPS truck, I believe. 

One morning when he was only in his 40's, his heart gave out at the breakfast table. His funeral was a reunion of sorts for me - I had already turned in my hard hat and big paycheck to stay home with my three babies. The funeral home overflowed with people, mostly people from his church who stood and spoke of JD's generosity and compassion.

Isn't it funny that, even after all these years of women's rights, blah, blah, blah, people still have a specific idea of what a chemical plant worker looks like - and acts like? I doubt if JD or I either one fit the stereotype.

Actually, most of the people I worked with didn't fit the preconceived hard-hatted mold either. They didn't even have much in common aside from the plant. But no matter our differences, we hold memories of the same pipe alleys, catwalks, columns. We fought fires together and shared pot luck holiday dinners. 

That's what kept it interesting for me and helped me stick it out for thirteen years and three pregnancies.

The people. 

And that's why I'm excited to be seeing some of those people again soon. Many of them for the first time in more than 20 years.

Everyone won't be there. Some, like JD, have died. Some we haven't even located. Some have other commitments... or perhaps just aren't interested.

But the ones who can't, or won't, for whatever reason, will still be with us. Those with family emergencies will be in our prayers and the rest will be there in our memories, stories, photos and laughter.

Here are a few more for you, Bob...

Fire school in Beaumont

Fire school again (we went every year) We're smiling because it's over!

Out of the hardhat zone... I think this was an open house

A visit from Santa Jim (out of the hard hat and safety glasses area again, obviously)

 

 

 

September, Oktober(fest) and my Friday Favorite Photo

"By all these lovely tokens

September days are here,

With summer’s best of weather

And autumn’s best of cheer."

-   Helen Hunt Jackson, September, 1830-1885

 

Wednesday night, alone on the Bistro patio after a special banquet, I bent over to un-velcro a small cushion from one of the metal chairs. Triple digit heat had given way to a cooling breeze whispering over the vineyard. An acoustic guitar strummed a beautiful song through the outside speakers.

I turned to remove another cushion and that's when I saw it, the orange orb hovering on the horizon, smiling down on the grapevines. The beauty, the peace, they total SIGH of it all froze me in place for several moments. I could have stayed there, doing nothing but soaking it all in with all of my senses for hours.

I love September... I love full moons... so that's why I chose the one above as my favorite this week. 

********************************************************

My boys are on the edge of a European adventure. They're in Chicago as I'm typing this but jumping on another plane this evening, headed for Munich to experience an authentic Oktoberfest, visit castles and all that fun German stuff.

In a few days, they'll head for Prague, Czech Republic. Another place I've longed to visit.

I'm unashamedly living vicariously through my sons the next few days just as I did with TG when she traveled to Spain a few years ago. 

A photo of them at the airport would have been my favorite photo of the week, except I wasn't there to see them off. They left early this morning from San Antonio, along with Tommy's girlfriend Kirby. We met up with her in San Marcos last night to trade Daniel for our grandpuppy, Josie. We'll be puppy-sitting for the next week or so. (Max and Belle are very excited!)

In Chicago, the trio are meeting up with Kirby's cousin Matt before taking off on the next leg of the adventure.

All I've asked for are lots of photos and, if possible, something with "Czechoslovakia" written on it. Heck, it could be a napkin for all I care, but "Czechoslovakia" has been my favorite word for as long as I can remember... it's just so much fun to say. I love the rhythm of it, the way it dances around in your mouth. Try it!!

(I can't believe they traded "Czechoslovakia" for "Czech Republic"! Not nearly as much fun, in my opinion.)

Since I don't have a photo of them, passport in hand and loaded down with luggage, and because their trip is throwing me back into my own memories (a sure sign I'm getting old, right?) I'm adding one of me with my friends Donna and Laura, on the edge of our own European adventure way back in '76. (I'm the brunette on the right.)

Under that brown hair, I truly believed this was just a preview of many European trips to come. I'm only 52 now - even though I haven't returned yet, there's still plenty of time for my brunette 17-year-old self to be right, isn't there?

But even if I never get the chance (more like, have the money), I'm so glad my kids have the travel bug and are taking advantage of the opportunity.

Please join me in praying they have a safe, fun adventure (and bring their old mom lots of photos!) Thank you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Changing Seasons (and my Friday Favorite Photo)

In the soft gloom of an autumnal day,

When summer gathers up her robes of glory,

And, like a dream of beauty, glides away.

~Sarah Helen Whitman
American poet, 19th century 

 

Summer has slipped quietly away, packing her triple digit robes of glory and heading south, I guess.

Autumn now greets me these mornings, wrapping her chilly arms around me, sending me back inside for a light jacket. But I welcome her - she's my favorite season. She takes my hand and pulls me outside to revel in her crisp mornings and blue skies. She invigorates me, reminds me there is still time to finish what I hoped to accomplish this year.

The past few days have been especially glorious, with mornings cool enough to rock on the front porch for hours, sipping coffee and getting lost in the pages of a book. I'm enjoying the weather so much I feel guilty, remembering our desperate need for rain.

I felt especially guilty this morning when the smell of smoke hit my nose as I stepped outside for my walk; because of the cool temperatures, my mind first smiled, somehow totally forgetting the nearby wildfires, imagining instead of a cozy campfire or a woodburning stove. 

But in a millisecond I remembered the devastation and glanced all around, feeling fear rise inside of me. Nothing near us, thank God - smoke is just drifting our way, I guess. I prayed hard for rain and sent an apology to the victims of the wildfires out into the smoky air.

We took advantage of Summer's lingering sunshine and warmth this weekend by playing in a nearby lake with family and friends. (The sunset photo above was snapped from the car on our drive there. Click HERE for more photos of our weekend.) What better way to wish Summer well on her journey and let her know she'll be missed?

But for me, Summer doesn't officially end until I retreat to the coast for my 12th Annual Port Aransas girlfriend weekend. It's a wonderful way to celebrate the end of Summer and welcome Autumn... days are warm enough for sunning and playing in the water, mornings are cool enough for a run on the beach and coffee on the balcony.

Best of all, I have plenty of time to reflect on changing seasons of all kinds. 

Slow Love

The last two chapters of Dominique Browning's memoir Slow Love prove she's a talented writer. They're poetic, original, descriptive, wistful and hopeful. A true joy to read. 

However, if I hadn't promised to finish reading her memoir before writing this review for the BlogHer Book Club, I would have tossed it aside after the first few chapters because of unnecessary details, a confusing timeline, and my own pure frustration. 

Editor-in-chief of House & Garden magazine when it folded in 2007, Browning was also mired in a longterm relationship with a legally-separated man who refused to leave his wife. Despite the explanations and excuses Browning offers, I couldn't understand how someone her age at her level of success didn't wave goodbye to him long before.

Slow Love describes her depression and journey back to the surface, but as much as I wanted to, I had a tough time finding sympathy for her. For one thing, losing her job didn't throw her into the financial crisis it would so many others. She was very fortunate.

But perhaps I couldn't identify with her because I've been in a constant state of employment transition for more than thirty years and never based my self-worth on any of my jobs.  Perhaps it's because I learned decades ago that a woman doesn't need a man to be "complete", that you can't change people or depend on them for your happiness.

Perhaps I'm the fortunate one, after all.

Hair, or the lack thereof

Not wanting to be seen by anyone I knew, I ducked into a store quite a distance from our house, heading straight for the product I sought. I had been eyeing it for years, but until this moment, couldn't rouse the courage to actually buy it. 

Tucking the box under my arm so the name wasn't obvious, I grabbed a few more items to further hide it and headed to check-out, trying to act nonchalant about my purchase...

Tom was cutting my hair. He would touch a section with scissors and then pull back, comb another section, let it fall. I sensed his frustration. "What is it?"

"Your hair just keeps getting thinner and thinner! But don't worry," he added, seeing the forlorn look on my face, "I'll love you and think you're beautiful even if you're completely bald." 

Sigh.

My grandmother wore her hair short, in soft curls maintained with regular perms and a nightly hair-rolling ritual. When she combed the curls out, spreading them across her scalp, it helped disguise the fact that she was slowly but surely going bald.

The illusion of thickness. That's what it's all about when you're dealt thin, and thinner-by-the-minute, hair. 

I always had baby fine hair, but didn't realize I'd inherited Grandmother's thinning-hair gene until ten years ago or so. I wish I'd inherited her ample bosom, or at least her gardening and sewing skills, along with it.

As my hair continued to thin - and to require shorter and shorter cuts - I began researching the problem, refusing to just give in and start wearing my hair in Grandmother's curls.

I tried an internal solution... eating healthier (lots of Omega 3), exercising (increased circulation to the scalp) and adding supplements like Flaxseed Oil, Vitamin E and Biotin that were rumored to help. I ultimately dropped 15 pounds I had given up on losing, but didn't notice a change in my hair at all.

I voiced my concerns to my doctor. At my request, he checked my thyroid function (twice!) but everything was normal. He just blamed menopause - I was in the beginning phases of peri-menopause at the time.

I'm sure menopause is a big factor, but the thing is, I remember way back when I was pregnant and taking prenatal vitamins that I never got the noticeable hair and nail growth most women experience. I suspected there was something blocking the absorption of whatever made them grow, but had no idea how to find out what it was.

Hitting that dead end, I focused instead on the illusion of thickness. I refused to perm my hair or roll it up each night on tiny rollers like Grandmother, but through my research discovered other tricks, like

1) Getting highlights in three slightly different tones for the illusion of depth

2) A "modified bob" cut with just the right amount of layers. Too many and it lies flat. Too few and, well, it lies flat.

3) An angled side part, so at least you don't have to see how wide it's getting and how much scalp is showing.

4) Tucking it behind your ears (unless you're skilled with a round brush and a can of hairspray, which I'm not.)

5) Volumizers and products made specifically for thin hair

I found a hairstylist who understood thin hair, but he didn't come cheap. Feeling guilty over the expense, I "broke up" with him and played the field for a year or so with other talented hairdressers, but could never find another one who just knew what to do with my hair.

So I've returned to Michael. I'll cut corners with cheap makeup and thrift store clothing... perhaps sell one of my children... but I'm going to stick with him as long as possible.

Just kidding about the children, of course.

Ah, vanity. Some people fight aging with Botox injections, breast implants or tummy tucks. I can ignore my wrinkles, can live with my small breasts and my "mommy" roll - the pain and expense of surgery just aren't worth it for me. But I'd prefer not to see my scalp when I look in the mirror.

My friend Ann called a few weeks ago to tell me about a shop in Galveston that has beautiful wigs. She knows I expect to get one eventually. Ann has luscious thick hair. I know it annoys her when I voice envy, but she tolerates it, reminding me how thick hair presents its own problems, like taking forever to dry. I believe she'd share hers with me if she could.

But a wig is a last resort. Just thinking of wearing one makes my head feel hot and itchy. I don't want to give in without grabbing every last straw and that's why I visited an internist yesterday. She discovered my gynecologist didn't run a full thyroid test, so she ordered one plus some other blood tests.   

Turns out, they're all normal. I'm grateful to be healthy, of course, but it means whatever is causing my hair to thin will remain a mystery. It could simply be genetics; it could be working thirteen years in a hard hat; it could be three pregnancies, medications I've taken, or just menopause. It could be all of them or none of them, as far as anyone knows, it seems.

I guess next time I visit Ann in Galveston, I'll run over to that wig shop and have a look. Maybe try some on. I wonder if they have any that are highlighted in three tones of blonde, cut in a modified bob and styled behind the ears? No long flowing manes for me - when and if the time comes, I don't think I want anyone to know and that would be a dead giveaway. 

Well, maybe one long blonde one, just for fun. Because blabbermouth that I am, I'll tell everyone I'm wearing a wig anyway.

In the meantime, I'm following one of the internist's suggestions...

Not wanting to be seen by anyone I knew, I ducked into a store quite a distance from our house, heading straight for the product I sought. I had been eyeing it for years, but until this moment, couldn't rouse the courage to actually buy it. 

Did you guess? I'm trying Rogaine.

Oh, I hate to even say it. It feels like I'm in one of those before and after commercials with the men smiling into a mirror, admiring themselves. It sounds so desperate and last resort-ish.

But between yesterday and today I decided, why the heck should I be ashamed or try to hide it? I am desperate. I am down to last resorts. And obviously there are other desperate women trying to figure out what to do about their own thinning hair so I might as well share my experience and perhaps help someone else. I only wish I'd started it sooner. 

I know I'll never have hair like Ann's (I never did!) but this should at least stop the thinning and perhaps even help a little grow back.

Wish me luck and I'll keep you posted!

(If you have thinning hair, share your success and failure stories with me. I'm still open to suggestions!)

Horizons

 

Disturb us, Lord, when

 We are too well pleased with ourselves,

 When our dreams have come true

 Because we have dreamed too little,

 When we arrived safely

 Because we sailed too close to the shore.

- Sir Francis Drake

I have a map in my mind, with huge circles drawn around several destinations. I've charted the journey, made lists of things I need to take with me, things I need to do in preparation and started crossing items off.

 But as time goes by without losing sight of land, I fear I'm satisfied with the Idea of a Journey and that I'll never actually get the nerve to set sail on the wide sea.

I fear indecision will keep me drifting close to shore, where pretty distractions make me forget about my dreams or news of potential storms make me afraid of heading into unknown waters.

Or if I do manage to jump aboard my boat and head for sea, I fear I've plotted the wrong path.

So this little prayer from Sir Francis is a good reminder to keep moving forward and not get too caught up in the details.

At some point, if you want to arrive at your destination, you have to pull up the anchor, pull Faith onboard, wave Doubt goodby and just go, right?

Wish me luck!

(These thoughts were inspired by THIS POST by Baron Batch - if you're facing a storm or a journey into the unknown, I recommend reading it!)

 (the rest of Sir Francis's prayer...)

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

- Sir Francis Drake

Phone Calls, Heartbeats, Hugs

A call that wakes you in the morning rarely bears good news.

The call that woke me yesterday let me know a dear friend's husband had died. He had some health issues (who doesn't by the time you hit your 50's?) but nothing that warned her that a day we all dread and hope never comes would soon arrive on her doorstep.

I, in turn, began making calls and sending messages to other friends, and they then did the same... so many digital arms stretching out and surrounding our friend, embracing her in a virtual hug. It's comforting to be able to connect that way with men and women who are still just school-age boys and girls in your mind.

Most of us will come together in person on Friday for the service and we'll continue to encircle our friend afterward as long as she needs us. 

I've been wanting to head that way to see my parents, anyway, especially since Daddy's recent hospital visit, and my nephew, his wife and baby are visiting from Wyoming this week. 

I always enjoy fitting a visit with friends into my trips home, but not under these circumstances.

One friend shared a comment his father-in-law made years ago...  "when you're in your sixties, the funeral homes become your reunions with everyone." We're not yet in our sixties, but I think we've met at too many funerals already.

So if you don't mind, please say a little prayer for my friend this weekend. And while you're at it, could you pray for a bit of rain to head our way? We just passed the triple digit record - 70 (sweaty) days this summer as of today. 

Oh, and two more prayer requests. I've delivered TG and her things safely back to campus - would you say a prayer for her for a safe and successful semester... and one for her recently graduated brother to find a job?

I promise that's all (for now.)

Thank you in advance.

I'll be praying for all of the above, plus keeping the East Coast in my prayers as Hurricane Irene heads its way and I'll also give thanks the recent earthquake up there didn't do more damage.

Just too much going on, isn't there?

How do we get back to simple? Or is simple just an illusion created by our memories? Probably. If so, then I'm even more grateful for my memories. 

My Sweet and My Sweets!

On this day 29 years ago, I walked down the aisle of St. Mary's Catholic Church in League City, Texas and officially joined my life to Tom's. I hadn't even known him a full year, but I was very sure my feet were treading in the right direction.

Despite that confidence and our whole romantic fairy-tale falling-in-love story, the path hasn't always been an easy one, because, you know, we're married. It's like a three-legged sack race... to get to the finish line you have to learn to work as a team. You might travel faster by yourself, and maybe trip less, but it sure wouldn't be as much fun.

Last weekend we attended a wedding officiated by a permanent deacon of the Catholic Church, a widower who was able to give a unique spin to the ceremony and the concept of marriage. 

He spoke mostly to the new couple, but his words resonated even with the rest of us who already know that marriage can be hard, how there are going to be times you might not even like that person you married much less love them, grrr, because he helped us remember we're just a heartbeat away from being left alone with just our memories and regrets. Never take each other's presence for granted.

He warned the new couple that Life would try to come between them. I personally think the most important word in marriage, besides Love, is Cling. You have got to cling to each other with all you've got because there's so much pulling you apart or trying to squeeze in between you. Stress, lack of money, lack of sleep, kids, exhaustion, pride...

Oh, pride is a big one. Watch out for it! The deacon warned against it, too, about the dangers of keeping score on who does the most around the house, etc. (Those of you who've been married awhile know what I'm talking about!)

We need to overlook each other's faults and focus on the positives. Focus on love, because after all, the love you have for each other is just a reflection of God's love for each of you.

"My wife was a terrible housekeeper," he told us, then looking up, he said, "You know it's true! You were!" But he said if started to complain, she would look at him and say, "Do you love me?" and it would get him everytime. (Yes, he loved you. It was plain to all of us!)

He told us to kiss each other and say "I love you" every day, and he had us do it right then and there! 

By golly, I think the best thing a couple can do for their marriage is to attend a wedding every now and then, especially right before their anniversary.

Happy anniversary, sweet Tom! I love you!

Gosh, we were cute, weren't we?

 And now for the rest of my sweet! moments of the week...

Sunday: attending Mass with 2/3 of your kids; an unrushed trip to the grocery store; Tom's hot wings for dinner; catching up on South Park episodes with your son

Monday: pink clouds; capturing photos of a woodpecker; a too rare phone conversation with your mother- and father-in-law

Tuesday: watching your old dog run down a dirt road; keeping your temper despite being disconnected 6 times and being on hold for two hours with the phone company; a new lens waiting in your mailbox; a violet dusk; a call from your brother with joyful news

Wednesday: glimpse of a hummingbird out the window; a new book to review waiting in your mailbox; potentially good news from your son

Thursday: your sister's birthday!; news that your cataract is growing but not enough to affect your vision or require surgery... yet; lunch at the mall and philosophical discussions with 2/3 of your kids; Panda Express orange chicken; a surprise gift from a friend

Friday: the excitement of closing one chapter in your life and opening a new one; a roadrunner zipping in front of you then waiting while you snap its picture; writing and writing and writing on your book; a full moon over your left shoulder, casting light on the road before you.

Saturday: looking into a pair of familiar blue eyes, feeling the same rush of love you felt 29 years ago when you said "I do".

Hope you've had a week full of sweet! moments!