The Radical Write

The Promise, The Cruise and the Future

2012-01-26T09:00:00.002-06:00

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This song is for my very best friend. I know you get it.
And we will dance.

Our Last Days as Children

2012-01-24T09:00:00.000-06:00

I love this group.

Out Bound

2012-01-06T09:00:00.001-06:00

I hear this tune by Stuart Hamm and I think of the road trip West with Sam and the end of last summer. Winter has just begun and I already ache for sunny skies and longer days. This tune sounds like that longing.

New Year New Food Ideas

2012-01-03T09:00:00.004-06:00

I blame the red onions.
It started by accident Saturday morning, with mixing together a marinate for tempeh. I was shaking together balsamic vinegar, basil and olive oil, when I realized that I had forgotten to add the sliced red onions to the marinate.

Before I realized what was happening, I was up to my elbows chopping zucchini, slicing mushrooms and pulling quinoa down from the cupboard. I also realized I had no Jewish Rye bread for the vegetarian reubens I had planned for later. While I wrapped up the first wave of sauteed red onions with lime, I jotted down a list of needed ingredients and took off down the road.

It's been awhile since I posted anything food. It's difficult to compete with all those traditional recipes. Even with that, there's room for creativity: stuffing with eggs over easy. Tandoori style turkey over rice.

For New Years Eve I planned a quiet night, a vegan Reuben with saurkraut and a glass of Merlot.

Take a package of tempeh and cut into thirds, so you have three equal squares. If it is overly thick, you may want to slice in half edge-wise. You may have as many as 6 squares.
In a separate container, mix 1/4 cup olive oil, 1/4 cup balsamic vinegar and 2 teaspoons of dried basil. Marinate for at least two hours.
I like to marinate mine all day. The flavor is much richer.

Heat a skillet to medium low. When hot, place in pan. turn once.
Get two pieces of Jewish Rye and lightly butter one side of each. Place butter side down, top with one slice of swiss, or baby swiss cheese, tempeh then the other slice of rye bread, butter side out. When the first slice is golden carefully turn the whole sandwich onto the second slice until golden. Remove from heat and open sandwich. Cheese should be melted. Top with saurkraut and Thousand Island Dressing. Slide a juicy dill pickle onto the plate and you got a yummy dinner!

Melancholy in the Waiting

2011-12-27T09:00:00.001-06:00

Happy Hanukkah Sixth Night

2011-12-25T09:00:00.002-06:00

Visit Jewish.TV for more Jewish videos.

Another Christmas Favorite

2011-12-24T09:00:00.001-06:00

This is for my very best friend in the world.

I've never been so glad that
someone was such a big part of my life.

One Favorite Christmas Tune

2011-12-22T09:00:00.001-06:00

Hope you're getting all your gifts Wrapped!

Happy Hanukkah!

2011-12-20T09:00:00.002-06:00

Quote of the Day

2011-12-15T09:00:00.003-06:00

When nothing is certain,

Everything is possible.

Every time you have the chance to grab stars out of the sky, take it. Life is about risk. It could be the best decision of your life. Even if it doesn't become all you hoped it would, you will never sit around wondering what could have happened, you will be in the river of life, awash in more possibilities.

Unexpected Turns in the Road

2011-12-13T09:00:00.020-06:00

I can't think of a single person who hasn't made plans that were foiled. You intended to go to a prom, get a new job, a raise, meet the right person or get to work on time. At some juncture in your life, things will go along swimmingly smooth, until they don't.
You will be traveling straight forward when all of a sudden you are faced with a hard left turn. Now you're going somewhere you not only didn't want to go, but are not sure how to navigate.

What will you do?

It isn't always easy to script these events. Some of them, like not making it to work on time, will be forgotten in a few days unless, you were in a car accident, or written up. Other events, like not going to prom and failing to meet the right person can change your perspective on life. How you react to life's disappointments is what develops character.

Recently, I was faced with such a choice. Initially I reacted with anger because something was being taken away from me. While I was brooding over how hurt I felt, someone wise showed up. During our conversation, they were able to put it in a context that showed me what a rare opportunity was being granted. If I looked at this with different eyes, it could be a springboard to many many more opportunities, eliminate some bad feelings that I'd been dragging around for quite a while, and offer me a much needed fresh start. That perspective was a game changer for me.

While not all left turns turns will work out quite so well, it is my hope that when you are faced with the next one, that you will see the opportunities that lie inside. You never know, you might be looking at the start of a whole new life.

Warm December Thoughts Over Coffee

2011-12-08T09:00:00.006-06:00

This morning, I met with Sal, a woman with whom I used to pray every week. Through a series of unlikely circumstance, I found myself hurtling along an unstoppable trajectory, unable to maintain our connection. She had been scheduled for heart surgery and I was heartbroken about it not being available to her, especially since she had been so there for me during the loss of my father.

I hoped at some point to be able to redeem myself. And explain. .. I saw her over the weekend, and she smiled at me so graciously. We traded information and promised to call in a few days. On the phone when she wanted to get together, I counted it my first Christmas blessing of the season.

A cherry picker sat in the middle of Westerville Road, where city workers were hanging a Christmas star between Old Bag of Nails and Heavenly Cup Espresso. Reminding me of the group of people I was running with ten years ago, how all of us have transitioned in and out of relationships and moved to other cities, circles or states. And how so few of the people I knew then are even nearby now.

I‘ve been thinking— for a while— that it’s getting to be time to follow a new star; That my orbit here has been completed in so many ways. I want to start over somewhere else, even thought it has been a huge comfort to have a network of people to fall back on. Currently, I’m blessed with a new set of solid friends, a great job, a church family and great co workers.

I keep thinking that when it’s time to move again (because in case you missed that last memo, I hate moving) the Lord would draw me to that next place. It’s too early to say definitively where that is. I know some places I’d like to go… Warmer had always appealed to me. But He has to work out the logisitics.

Driving further down the street, I noticed Christmas wreaths hanging from lampposts, and the light bulbs appearing as flames for a trio of candles set inside each one. It will be beautiful in uptown when that first snow falls. I think how wonderful it would be to walk with a loved one, window shopping while snow falls softly from a dove grey sky. Little fir trees with gleaming glass bulbs and sparkling garlands practically beg to be dusted with white ice crystals. Lately, I long for rows of luminarias lining walks and adobe walls and wish I could be strolling in the deep Southwest at least once for Christmas.

Sal asks me what I was doing for the holidays? I don’t really know.

I think I just want to be warm, share time with people who matter; people I love who love me. I don’t care about gifts so much… although it always make my heart happy to see something wrapped and my name on a little paper tag. One dear friend always puts little miniature somethings on his gift, little tiny toys, or icons and then the tag is also a gift.

I want the experiences of true holiday spirit; to be in a position to give, getting a chance to share time and a meal. Hugging and being hugged. Having a cup of cheer with long time friends. I suppose I’d like to be kissed under the mistletoe and sharing some of the best memories.

Because on those cold winter nights, when hoary frost creeps across your window panes and the city lights are blinking through the leafless tree bones, one can be warmed by remembering good times with friends and laughter shared.

Wherever you happen to be this Christmas season, I hope you are loved, or loving well. I hope you remember that it’s not the gift so much as how you make that other person feel. Remember those who mean the most to you and make sure you let them know how much they mean to you. None of us really know how many Christmases we get. One of the best gifts you can give to yourself and them, is to make each one count.

A Traveling Song

2011-12-06T09:00:00.001-06:00

Have you ever heard a song that just seems filled with all the possibility of a wide open future? A song that grabs a hold of your imagination and takes you for a ride? This song, Would You Go With Me is one like that for me. It makes me think of Cowboys on horses coming back for the girl, or the Knight in Shining Armor rescuing the princess.

A song like this fills my heart with a whimsical kind of hope, where people are good to each other, good for each other. And his voice is like chocolate for the ears...

What do you think? If this song doesn't do it for you, what song does?

Much Ado About Nothing

2011-12-01T09:00:00.002-06:00

Did you ever have your heart set on something so intently that you missed what was going on around it?
Have you ever had this happen? Your debit card doesn’t swipe correctly the first time and then someone just keeps on swiping it until it works? Are you like me, you go home and log on to your banking site to find that you have three transactions pending?

That’s what happened. I watched those transactions all week, floating noxiously in the pending category, a sort of banking suspended animation. I didn’t want all three to post when only one was a true transaction.

But on Tuesday, they landed. I printed the bank statement and just like that, I'm planning all the ways I'm getting my money back. I went home on my lunch break and found the receipt and their phone number and called them, explaining what had happened.

The manager, Meng, told me they had to file a report and send it to corporate and it could be weeks until they sent me a refund. I felt my brain twist into a knot. I said very strongly that I couldn’t wait weeks to get my money back. She asked me to bring the bank statement in and she would refund it.

The second my work day was finished, I raced out into the pelting rain to the far north end of town, trying not to think about Christmas shoppers, or bad weather. I plugged in some relaxing music and traveled against the heavy flow of traffic until I made my way to the store. I politely asked for the manager and she was equally polite while I explained the scenario, reminding her that she had been there while her coworker repeatedly swiped the card.

She remembered the incident. I showed her where it was on my statement. She took the statement, made a copy of it, and brought out a calculator. She added the transactions together and handed me cold, hard, untraceable cash. She didn’t copy my driver’s license, take my phone number, or ask my name. I offered. She said it was unnecessary.

I left, and we both seemed happy.

Then I got home and looked at the statement again. I had a credit from a recent return to an online store. And below that, two more credits. Both of them were for the store I had just left. I now had a choice. I could keep the money. She couldn’t find me, had no way of contacting me. I could have said, it’s her own fault that she didn’t find the credit while she was looking at the bank statement.

I knew that they would probably write it off. I figured they could afford the loss. Of course, the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me.

I could hear my dad telling me, “When you steal, you lose three times. I might only be 50 bucks to you, but when it’s all said and done, you will lose 150 if you keep it.”

That little rule of thumb had never been proven wrong in my life. It always pops into my memory in moments just like this one. I knew I had to give it back. I wouldn’t be back in that neck of the woods until Thursday. I would go back and explain and they would be stunned, as people always are when you return money.

Even that started to bother me. I couldn’t let two days pass while I just sat on it. Now that I knew it really wasn’t mine to begin with, I couldn’t put someone through any mental anguish over it. She had taken me at my word. If I expected to get any sleep for the next two days, I knew I had to take it back today.

The manager was pleasant as always. When I whipped out the bank statement again, I know she was more than a little curious. I handed her the wad of money and she looked confused. I showed her where it had been taken out and where it had been credited back to my account. I apologized for having missed it. (Clearly I’m not used to many credits to my account.) She shook my hand.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Julie.”

“Thank you for bringing the money back, Julie.” Broad smile.

No, thank you, Meng. Tonight I am going to sleep like a stone.

While I Wasn't Looking

2011-11-29T09:00:00.001-06:00

cart tree

It's true, again, that I have been distracted doing other things. You must be tired of hearing about this book I've been writing, revising and constantly polishing. Well, I want to complete it and move on to the next thing.

Currently I have been editing the tail end of the book which needed a lot of attention and still some loose ends that I know are there, that you may not pick up.

None the less, I am almost at 100,00 words and very nearly finished. I have someone in my corner who thinks it really is worth pursuing an agent so it can get published. Some how, amid all the parties, and gatherings, shopping, wrapping, gifting and holidays ( and the class that I am still taking for a few more weeks then we go to break...) I'm hoping to tweak it enough so that we can begin the agent hunting process, mid to late January.

Let me also say, that I know I have neglected my blog reading public this past 10 days, and I humbly apologize. I trulty hoped you didn't notice because you were busy enjoying your holiday distractions, like family blowing into town and cooking magnificent feasts to be shared by smiling appreciative dinner guests.
I cooked a full spread, with a real turkey as it is one of the days I am not a vegan, and was grateful for a gathering of new and dear faces this year. It was peaceful, enjoyable and all the critical things we expect from those picture perfect holidays.

So, in case you're wondering, I am on track to have more posts in the very near future, not to worry. I have been writing a lot and will be sharing it with you soon.

Stay tuned!

Explosions in Weddingland

2011-11-22T09:00:00.001-06:00

You probably have no idea how jumpy people can get when they know it’s time for me to write a new post for my blog. There are plenty of people who are happy to read about someone’s life when the light is shining on someone else, but you’d be stunned how many of those people don’t really like to be in the spotlight. I am one who never liked being in the spotlight either.

I’m doing well enough at the moment, if you’re curious. In so many ways I have hit my limit on certain things. I no longer have the ability to tolerate mindless droning conversation from people who fail at taking social cues. Nor can I let my friends suffer it anymore.

I can no longer listen to people who are chronically depressed talk about the many ways in which they are slighted, victimized or otherwise helpless in circumstances they themselves have caused. That’s just my latest evolution.

Bad news travels at the speed of light in most parts of the world. Recently I found that all the pastors at my church (again) know me by sight, my first and last name and the kind of year I have been having. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. It’s always a surprise, when you start believing you are invisible, to find that you are not. Not only not invisible, but have hundreds of pairs of eyes watching you.

I was going to a certain church, which I loved, and there was a collection of us that were all single at the same time. We all married within two years of each other. The marriages have disintegrated as if by sniper attack, one by one. Another friend of mine just told me that her husband moved out. And I think by this time next year, the core group will be back together again (possibly with a few new exes replacing the original cast members) doing the gallery hop scene and Saturday night potlucks somewhere right after church. (I used to host them, and they were a lot of fun.)

If you’re currently married, you might be right to think that divorce is contagious. Right now I am having a tough time believing it isn’t.

To my friends and loved ones in their first marriages, God bless you. Kudos. Live long, love forever, prosper. I pray you will be an outrageous success. God knows I need role models.

To the rest, call FB me and let me know if you are up for the December gallery hop in the Short North. I know we are coming into Christmas, and that can be good and bad. You don’t have to be alone for the holidays. Let’s connect, do dinner, have fun. We’re free to do what we want now, right?

What do we wanna do?

Feeding Gratitude

2011-11-18T09:00:00.003-06:00

Unless you're a hermit, work from home, never watch the news or have been in a coma since January, you know someone who has had a really tough year. Loss of job security, financial down turns and housing foreclosures top the list of monumental disappointments. Several of my clients went homeless, one as recently as last month.

Many people found themselves sick and in hospitals, some experienced the loss of dear ones. One woman I know was told at the hospital that her sister had died. When they took her off the ventilator, she miraculously revived, continued to improve and went home to get on with her life. It was my favorite story of the year. Others close to me were not so lucky.

We've shared a lot of heartbreak this year when two of my dearest friends each lost a child.

But I have good news.

If you woke up today, you have something to be thankful for.
You are blessed if you are able bodied and have good health.
If you have a roof over your head, whether borrowed, rented or bought, you are blessed.
If you have even one person who loves you, it is worth expressing your gratitude.
If you have food on your table or food to share, money in the bank, a job or talent with which to earn money you are fortunate.

It's easy to look at the world and despair of all that is wrong, but I want to challenge you over the coming days to find one thing everyday to be grateful for. It doesn't need to be a big thing, a scene, a moment a song, if someone buys you lunch, or you can buy it for someone, hang onto those things. Count them. Write them down and later when you start to forget, read over them.
The more you look, the more you will see.

The more you see, the more blessed you will be.

And if you can share it, you double your blessings.

I am grateful for so many things, great friends, great bosses, the people who love me, the people I get to love. I have hopes and dreams and a promising future in spite of all that's happened. And I am grateful for YOU, my loyal reader who just today put me over the 20,000 visits mark today (and why this post is one day late.) If you can't find a blessing for what ever reason, then be the blessing.

I hope you have a wonderful weekend.

Sailing in the Wind

2011-11-15T09:00:00.002-06:00

I feel myself plunging through a rabbit hole of change as I cruise through a dark fall morning, the back streets of quiet neighborhoods, houses lit from within, as the people of polite society ready themselves for work and their children for school. I imagine the people inside being married happily ever after, going boating on beautiful weekends and clubbing at night. I imagine happy, beaming faces around a dinner table where everyone gets a chance to speak and be heard. Where everyone is supported in their dreams. I imagine them all healthy, straight a/b report cards, top paying jobs, gleaming sports cars in the garage and fat bank accounts. I imagine husbands and wives in the neighborhood getting together for picnics and block parties, glasses of wine and a few beers on holidays. I imagine a life of loving normalcy.

My concerned roomie arrives home early, in the middle of my pacing and feeling desperate. I feel overwhelmed by circumstances; my last long term relationship disintegrates, my job stresses me out and there is a growing list of things I want to accomplish and enought restlessness to fuel them all.
I know it isn’t always going to be like this. It won't always feel this dark, or ache this much. For me, it's always when I think I can't take this for another minute, when something finally breaks loose. I grab my things and head for the door; going to work early. An hour too early. My roomie asks if I’m sure, do I know what time it is?
I do.
With Redemption playing over and over again in my head, I’m trying to lay hold of a feeling that pulls at me: Travel. I have to go for a head clearing drive.The moody indigo sky is banded with melon-colored light at the horizon,

          I tell myself that I will go in to work late, at 8:30 all the while contemplating how easy it would be to call off, drain my account, and drive due west 2000 miles. By noon I could have crossed out of Ohio into any one of five states, the wind in my hair and heading for...?

          Instead, I travel east along a two lane road with no curbs, named after a prize fighting boxer, over a hill, past an attorney’s office, by a cemetery fenced in with iron bars. The iron bars get to me.
         By the time I hit Sunbury Road, I've saved myself 1,996 miles and am heading for the dam. There is no one out there at this hour, just a stream of car lights shining by, but determine people could be sleeping on board the boats gently rocking in the water. No one stirs.
Striding toward the station, I stop long enough to jot some thoughts, making sure no one else is walking around before gliding to the first observation deck in the dark. I snap a few pictures of the marina, illuminated in a way I seldom see. My connection to water, boats, wind chimes, seagulls and shorelines still a comfort to my soul.

If I reach the dam, the exact spot where he asked me to marry him, to where I haven’t been alone since that day, I'm convinced it will somehow break the spell he holds over me, or help me connect to something that will help me release my vows.
The cement abutment where I sat on that day, is barricaded behind a trifold of expanded metal. There is no way to get to it, except through it visually. And it's while I stand there, that I see the whole event play out as if watching a movie. It was Mother’s Day, he got me gifts. I remember feeling he was up to something. I'd seen a parking lot swarming with seagulls earlier that day.
After dinner, I was supposed to pick up my daughter and didn’t want to be late. We were cutting it close.

We both wore denim jackets and were buffeted by cold breeze; although the sun cast its brightness, it withheld it's warmth. The water thundered so powerfully out of turbines below that if the dam was a boat, it would easily be propelled to the Atlantic Ocean by the force.

He stands before me with a look of expectation. He placed a peridot birthstone ring on my wedding ring finger, not because it’s my birthstone, but because I mentioned I liked it better. From this day forward, he will tell everyone that peridot is the birthstone for January. And even after people correct him, he will argue with them.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what? You didn’t ask me anything.”

“I didn’t?”

                The question was supposed to be, will you marry me? But I wasn’t willing to fill in blanks then. I needed it to be asked.
              Perhaps that should have been my indicator, but at the time, I misunderstood the significance. It would take years to figure out that when he’s nervous, he leaves out important information. When he is pressured he can hear his thoughts so clearly that to him they seem audible and they drown out everything else.
           I didn’t know it that day, and I didn’t know it for a long time. What else I didn’t know then, was that as long as things go close enough to his plan, he can recover. But when they don’t, his mood changes; everything changes. I don't know exactly when we got off plan.

Only that I was never ready for the way my words got twisted away from their intent, or how they promoted some sense of victim hood. It took me a long time to see the patterns of drama. Full moon, no moon and every holiday, with out fail, as if bent on keeping some unseen schedule. I was never able to pick the violation, the offense or the trigger. Only the timing. A few close friends knew I was being crushed under the weight of my vows. Hope is not enough. Love is not enough. Now, I know how promises are like bones that break under intense and unyielding pressure.

As I stand there, I see the next 8 years play out, like fast forwarding through a video tape. This is where it began, and this is where it ends. One spell is finally broken.

Yellow autumn leaves fall from the maples like a kind of dry rain, and the wind sifts through the fleece of my jacket. The thought that chides me now is singular.

“We didn't make it.” I can recover from this.

My lip quivered more than it used to, and tears were one blink away most days. Grey days and cement clouds had become my comfort. My heart felt as empty as a looted safe.
Being honest, bending over backwards and keeping the peace were not enough glue to hold us together, but somehow, thankfully, it has been enough to hold me together. And today, I am grateful for it.
I understand the importance of ending well, full circle moments that bring closure and healing. I feel like something has been recovered.
Clarity and strength.
My sliver of joy is just that; a slender thread that connects me to truth: I’m out. I am free.
I don’t have to live afraid now. I can be who I was designed and destined to be. Although it is currently eclipsed by memories of past legal processes, it is a dance in which I must engage to exact the cost of an exit, and even that will be part of finishing well.

As I lean against the rail, a pontoon boat sails against the wind, the way kites fly best, rise highest. If believe with all my heart, that we can catch the storm in our sails, our kite, our wings, and fly higher than we ever dreamed possible. I desire to channel the coming storm into a new strength.

This time next year, I tell myself, that will be me. Sailing in the wind, sun on my back, warm breezes in my hair, doing what I’m supposed to be doing, with no one to stop me.

What I Wanted to Say

2011-11-12T09:00:00.001-06:00

I want to tell you I am not affected. That ending a relationship is painful, but if you can bite the bullet, suck it up, cry, or vent or drink or despair, but eventually you get over it. Eventually the sun comes up one day, brighter than all the days before and you tell yourself, I can make it. I am better now than I was before.

I wanted to tell you that I no longer buy makeup when I break up, but was stunned to discover that to be untrue even now. I went a whole different look and needed new makeup and even bought fingernail polish to fit. And new eyeliner and mascara.

I wanted to tell you that I have totally grieved the death of the relationship and believe that is true. I am still dropping off baggage that isn’t mine, that needs retagged, that needs burned. And I know where my some baggage is; baggage claim. And no, I will not be going there to pick up what is not mine.

I am in the mosaic phase now, bashing to bits the lies, taking the truth and the beauty and forming them into a new picture of the life I was meant to live. But I am having a Phoenix moment. I get to start again!

I’m going to kick back with many friends, have a few pizzas, drink a few cocktails, laugh a little louder, breathe a little freer and thank my lucky stars for the asolutely wonderful people I have in my life, who not only look out for me, but pray, call, come by, bring me coffee and encouragement. And sometimes, wonderful bottles of wine.

Thank you. I am blessed.

Love Of The Father

2011-11-08T09:00:00.000-06:00

I thought this was a really great song from the first time I heard it. It reminds me that God already knew what I was going to do before I did it, that He still loved me in spite of all my many shortcomings. Sometimes I fall back on the idea that if I do everything right, that things will turn out better, or be perfect; and I seem to always think that doing God's will means there will be no trials, or pain or disappointment. It means He will be in the midst of the storm.

God's will is different than the rosy idea of life I hold in my finite little head. I hope this song inspires you and reminds you also, that He sees the end from the beginning, and all the many ways we will stumble until we reach the end. He knows how each lesson will impact us, change us and sanctify us. And even if we lose hope in a moment, or an event, life doesn't end there. As long as we hang in there with Him, we will be alright, no matter what it looks like to us.
And He feels the same way about you.
So whatever you're going through, hang on. You aren't alone.

No Regrets

2011-11-03T09:00:00.000-05:00

This says some things that are on my mind.

Peace on Earth

2011-11-01T09:00:00.001-05:00

the closest thing I have seen to Heaven on earth.

Getting Back to True

2011-10-27T09:00:00.001-05:00

When I held the book in my hands, The Me Project, I remember thinking I was about to perform the ultimate betrayal: Thinking of myself first for one year. My birthday was a significant milestone, and I was able to start putting some things in perspective.

Certain things I had laid aside for a period of time were starting to reintegrate into my life, like drawing and designing. My sense of style had changed, and the things I once like, were no longer as appealing. My sense of purpose had seriously been eroded until I was feeling like a ring on Saturn, stuck in some orbit around a planet that had gone dark.

I opened the cover and after reading a little bit, began making a life list. I came up with about 50 things I wanted to accomplish in my life. Ten months later, I have managed to accomplish 11 of them. On the more significant side, I learned to shoot, got a tattoo, went on an Epic Journey, saw Texas and joined a film group.

The book got me thinking about the trajectory of my life, and how, with just the slightest veering, it was going off the rails. One degree off of true can take you miles away from your goals. This Spring, I realized how far afield I had gone. My life had become more like dragging a plane behind me than flying. I had to cut some ties. Certain people really didn't like that.

An envelope from the hubbs showed up last week addressed to my maiden and former married name.
"Here we go again," I thought. I hate drama. This was burning with it. The contents were biting and hurtful and sad. The whole act of it was very clarifying for me, though. It is the final snowflake that breaks the bough. It's time to make significant changes. Permanent changes.
My choices may not be popular, and may not happen over night. But it's been decided.

A week ago I compared life lists with a friend of mine and realized we wanted to accomplish a lot of similar things. Some of mine were written with specific people in my life. Even the things I wanted to happen in my life was limited because of where and with whom I was living. That's changed.

As I review this list, it's pretty much a given that there will more exciting things popping up for me. I still may decide in favor of going to the Burning Man Festival, take different side trips, and start building a house in the spring. I will write more stories and laugh with friends. I'm going to live better in the last half of my life, than the first.

And... I've never been so glad about a book.

The Weekend Cook

2011-10-25T09:00:00.003-05:00

You know I love to cook. I don't have a lot of time to do so once my week starts. I like to eat in, preferring to make from scratch home made meals. I usually cook a good portion of food one day of the weekend that will become lunches and dinners for the rest of the week. I eat egg wraps most days, and all of these veggies are pretty tasty additions. If you can stand being gourmet that early in the morning.

Ready to travel around the World this week? I will show you how to simultaneously make Southwestern, Asian and Mediterranean food beginning with…

Acorn Squash

Turn on the oven to 350. Halve and seed acorn squash. Sprinkle with Kosher salt and lay face down on foil with the edges turned up to catch any juices. Place in oven until fork pierces the skin, 35-45 minutes.

Soba NoodlesFill a medium Sauce pan with unsalted water and bring to a boil. I add broken red chilis to mine to flavor thewater because salt causes the Soba noodles to break down. Stir occasionally until soft and drain.

OnionsHeat a non-stick skillet with one tablespoon of oil. Chop two Vidalia or sweet onions and sauté, sprinkle with ground red chili (I like a lot, but sprinkle according to your tolerance.) Squeeze lime over all sauté five minutes. When onions are translucent, remove from heat place in a bowl.

Chop and separately saute each of the following:

(If you are making a salad, toss some fresh ingredients into that.)

Red onions, red and yellow peppers, baby carrots and 3 ribs of celery.
Sautee celery until bright green and remove from heat.
Sautee green chili last. I do this in case the capsaicin stays in the pan, for the next thing I am about to sauté or fry. (Today it will be black beans.)

While all this simmering and sautéing is going on, chop cilantro and slice green onions. In another pan follow instructions for making Quinoa (pronounced keen-wah). Once all the veggies are finished, go to the meal you want to make.

Easy Asian Stir Fry
Take one third of the onions, carrots, most of the celery and place in a container. This is your Asian blend of veggies. You can throw this in with rice, stir in with Soba or Udon noodles. For a quick and easy sauce mix equal parts of Balsamic Vinegar, Soy Sauce and Toasted Sesame Seed oil. If you want a touch of garlic, add 1 Tbsp. of Garlic Hummus to thicken it up. Shake in small sealed plastic container until smooth and pour over all, garnish with cilantro and sliced green onions. Sesame seeds optional. Enjoy!

Mediterranean Meal
Take one half of the remaining Lime Onions, the rest of the celery, half of the red and yellow peppers. This is your Mediterranean veggie blend. Stir in one can of drained chick peas. Remove acorn squash from oven and place on plate. Fill cavity with Quinoa mix and veggies on the side. If you like butter, place a dab on the quinoa, or in the squash before filling.

Mexican Meal
Stir together the remaining peppers, green chili and lime onions. Put in a sealable container.

Drain one can of black beans. In a clean medium hot skillet, pour beans and mash with a fork. Open a can of Rotel tomatoes pour all into beans. Continue mashing beans and sauté until mixture becomes thick. When thick, remove from heat and add one tablespoon of chopped cilantro and sliced green onions.

I like having these beans on hand throughout the week, because in a moment’s notice I have tostadas, bean dip or burritos, can be made and topped off with the Mexican blend of veggies. Add cheese, or sour cream and enjoy.

Graduation Picture

2011-10-22T09:00:00.002-05:00

I've missed you. You have to know that I was thinking about you and I really wanted to post. But after a full day of work, and then 4 hours of classes on top of that, I was a little wiped out. A lot of things slid off to the side while I took time out to learn a few things about guns and shooting for my book. Now that I have all the information I need, I expect to plug in the facts and wrap up the final round of tweaks. I was able to shoot the guns my characters used and really get a perspective on what does and doesn't happen.
Thanks to Aim Hi for a thorough job and filling in all the blanks I had.

Graduation Picture

Is This Your LIfe

2011-10-13T09:00:00.000-05:00

No More Dreaming

2011-10-11T09:00:00.003-05:00

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
No more crawling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

Solace

2011-10-06T09:00:00.002-05:00

Purge

It probably wouldn’t do to tell you how much my heart began to ache

while standing at the edge of the lake, waves churning against the rocks,

spraying mist into the air that caught on my face, in my breath.

The water rolled in waves, cresting and breaking

and the wind blew so strong,

it bent thick boughs of trees and drove mist

through my coat, to my skin.

I stood in black against the grey, acutely feeling

seeping cold seeking the marrow of my bones.

The future as uncertain as the flight of white gulls,

ascending motionlessly above the air blasting past me.

And thinking, can you rescue me?

When is all this going to be right?

It was heaven touching your downy hair, the pocket seam of your jeans.

I wanted more, and daren’t ask

for fear it would be given.

I wanted to slide my hand across your bare chest,

feel the muscles beneath your skin,
pull your back into me and wrap my arms around you:

I wanted to rest my head on your shoulder,

To feel safe.

I still do.

Instead, I feel like a humming bird,

my tiny pounding heart awash with a thousand shattered promises,

like broken shards of glass and piercing.
I am broken, rebounding, re-breaking my bones

against cage bars of trust.

I want to believe and yet

the more convincing the more it sends me running.

I want to stay as much as leave.

Want to rest as much as travel,

want to feel the heat of your breath on my neck,

the soft thump of your heart near mine,

the warmth of your tender embrace enveloping me.

But here am I, standing at the shore,

teeth chattering against a tumultuous, autumn storm,

hymnal songs surging through my ears,

hoping for a Holy moment of sanctification,

and a chill that can purge my soul

of the burning desire I have for you.

by Juella Petersen

What If...?

2011-10-04T09:00:00.005-05:00

When I went to bed at 1 a.m. it was not yet apparent that sleep would be elusive, and that six o’clock would be tapping me to get up and start the day. But it wasn’t possible to retire any sooner than that.

I’ve never been able to see into the future, or around corners or even what could happen in the next five minutes. If I could, probably there are decisions that I wouldn’t have made. But I find myself wondering most about the what could have happened if…?.

What if I had lasted past three piano lessons? Or taken typing seriously, or college, or even high school? What if I had sailed with my history teacher that summer?
Had kissed Elton John the summer we rushed the stage? Taken that interview at Disney?

Some people believe in Parallel Universes. Some believe that every crossroad hatches another parallel existence, and that somewhere in the Universe, versions of ourselves are living out the repercussions and rewards of our other choices.

Have you ever considered what life could or might be like if the person you met later in life had been met first? If it happened already? And just maybe, you are living in the parallel of that decision?

I think about this concept more often than you care to know, and I just wondered if you ever did? It comes to mind because of a recent call with a dear friend.

“I think I would have been a great Dad,” he said.

“I think you would have been hilarious…” I picture him playing with boys and building forts and wrestling with them on the floor. I picture them little, tow-headed and ornery, Daddy’s boys. He tells me, with a twinge of remorse, that I could have been their mother. Even though I have two daughters, both gifted and beautiful and one who adores me, for a second I have a pang of heartbreak for the boys I never had a chance to raise.

I wonder if, in that parallel universe life, we were married only once, if he succeeded in his music dreams, and how old these boys are now. What became of them? What became of me in that other life?

I wonder the difference of nuances. What if I had lived as a brunette instead of a blonde? Or grown up in California? I wonder sometimes, too, if the dreams I have are me and my parallel self, trying to communicate over this strange barrier of time. Right now, I wonder where the happier me is waking up, who is beside her and how it’s working out. I wonder what she’s doing for a living, who she’s telling her secrets to and where she calls home.

Even more so, I would like her to call me.

All Of This Could Have Been Yours

2011-10-01T09:00:00.000-05:00

Take what applies, shake off the rest.

Record Breaker

2011-09-28T09:00:00.000-05:00

Since the inception of this blog, I've tried to beat my best. You can take a look at the blog post list and see what my numbers are. This post is several posts past my best year ever and it's only October. I don't very often point on little things like that.
When I began this blog. I didn't have any published writing , and was a little concerned what it would look like a few years down the road. Honestly, I wondered if I would stick with it.
And here we are, thank's for tagging along for the ride. We are beginning our 7th year of blogdom. We have a lot more to come, some very interesting days ahead of us, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it will only be more insteresting as time goes on.

If you have a blog, please comment so I can link to you.

I encourage you to take a moment to contemplate all of your accomplishments of the past seven years. Write them down on a TO DONE list. Let me know if you are starting new goals. I would love to hear from you.

Redemption

2011-09-27T09:00:00.000-05:00

I love Lisa Gerrard and thought I would share with you one my favorites.

Most Creative Video

2011-09-26T09:00:00.000-05:00

You've been really great about following this blog, so today, here is a bonus track. I am on a music jag so stand by while I dig out obscure but moving stuff. Feel free to send me your thoughts.

Sia - Breathe Me

Lyrics:

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me...

Recast

2011-09-24T09:00:00.007-05:00

I've been floating through the cyberhood, looking for you,

your words,

wherever I might find them.

Searching for something that

makes my lip slightly curl, strikes a nerve, or pierces my heart.

Something that restores what’s been
drop by drop drained out.

For too long, I felt as if I was disappearing;

forced to choose between black and white, light and dark.

Now, I hover here, safe in the misty fog,
in the twilights, in the shades of waxing and waning grey.

I revel in the in-between.

Not good or bad, not right or wrong,

not yes or no.

The razor thin line of defined boundaries.

That fluid place where traveling to light or dark is the breadth of

unknowns and maybes.

Possibilities exist in the grey, between the yes and no,

the interstices of what is and what is not yet.

If my physical lessens, darkens,

blends in with my surroundings,

or the night, my voice will be louder.

I’m compelled toward appearance changing, power shifting,

fully-leaded female empowerment.

I can feel a gunmetal grey shell being forged around me,

feel the iron bones strengthening

in ways I didn’t know was possible.

I’m not trying to find myself, so much as check the gauges of my soul,
make sure all controls are still functioning,

the instrument panel is not permanently damaged.

What I notice is the canvas of the wings took quite a beating;

nothing that a season of recalibration won’t fix.

Gunshots, leather, needles and stone.

Each of them a learning process.

Don’t worry, you'll be in the loop,

as each lesson makes it’s impact on my life.

If you haven’t seen me for a while,

you may not recognize me.

But if you know me, I don’t want you to worry.

Driven by the hope that this all makes sense on the other side,

I dream of re-launching a truer version of myself.

While I was on hold...

2011-09-22T09:00:00.003-05:00

Waiting for the guy at Office Max to come back with information
on the toner we needed at work.
And I heard this song.
I looked it up on youtube to share it with you.

Just wanted you to know that I was thinking of you.

Explosions in the Sky: then Peace

2011-09-20T09:00:00.001-05:00

In sandals I walked through the dewey grass and got my bare toes wet. I anticipate that this year I will walk through more rain with out an umberalla and stomp through more puddles.

I will stare in awe at more bird clouds, and consider the myriad reasons I have to sit in parks. Maybe sometime you will pack your lunch and I will pack mine and we will go listen to it rain through the pine trees.

Or sit by the reservoir and watch the seagull fly.

As the summer ends, I am reminded of the loves I passed up, the ones who passed on me, and the loves I never had a chance to explore because of time, timing, commitments or being too committed. Cooling evenings remind me of staying up all night and walking in the woods with young man who begged me to hang out with him there just because he wanted to talk. We talked for twelve hours.
And I never saw him again.

I will stand on rocky shores in fall, and dream of people I miss, people who I want to spend more time with, people who have impacted my thinking even though they are hundreds of miles away, they are still in my daily thoughts, in my heart.

In winter, I will find isolated places in the country to contemplate stars and think about all the people I loved who have gone to heaven.

In the mornings I will thank God for eggs and my daily cup of chai. I will thank Him for the lessons I learn in heartbreak, when my friends are hurting and I help, or I am hurting and they help me.

More vacations must be planned, parties attended and friendships brought together over many more cups of coffee.

When the quills finally fall off of my heart from disuse, I promise I will cry at sad movies and weddings and even the sad state of my heart.

I will write more words, go on more walks, and smell more roses.
When I find music I like, I will download it and if I can, I will share it with you.

Dog Days

2011-09-17T09:00:00.001-05:00

Not sure if you notice, I have rearranged the furniture here. Dusted off some of the listings I had and added a few and removed a few. If you were on here and now you are not, comment me and I will reconnect with you. I like to keep things current and moving, fluid.

Sometimes I change format, or lists, add new people with fresh ideas. Some old people have new blogs. If you are one of them and would like to link, comment me. (I love messages)

I was inspired to do this little bit of fall cleaning while listening to this kicking song by Florence and the Machine which was sent to me in May (along with a lot of others) to help ease my breaking heart. While Sam and I were speeding down parts of Route 66, going due west, this became one of our songs of the day. I hope it gets as stuck in your head as mine and represents a good time for you every time you hear it.

The Blessing of Relationship

2011-09-15T09:00:00.002-05:00

Two dates into the transformational healing class, I am convinced that the beginning of this song is what it sounds like when I soul is pleading to be released from constraint, from agony, from Earth.
It's the sound of the gypsy soul trapped in a cloak of skin.

It is also my contention that as long as we are living here, the great wailing that comes from

the same soul is the cry for our Heavenly Father to come rescue us from all that is wrong with the world. Until that liberating day, we are promised that we will have trials and trouble, but that we will not be alone.

I have not been alone, and
I have been comforted by the unending prescence of the Lord.

And on the days that it was not enough, He made sure my friends and family were available.

To all of you who write, call, text, show up, Skype, FB and twitter thank you!

Wild Geese and Other Flying Things

2011-09-13T09:00:00.001-05:00

I never heard of anyone training a butterfly to hurl itself into a net. While I ponder a great many things, one of them my new freedom to fly without constraint, I came across this poem again.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

from Dream Work by Mary Oliver
published by Atlantic Monthly Press© Mary Oliver

Twenty Five New Things

2011-09-12T09:00:00.001-05:00

I have to say that it's enjoyable for me to find these lists on different blogs, they're fun to read and I always learn something new about the ones who write them. So, on the chance that you want to know anything more about me, here is a short list of things you may or may not know about yours truly.

1 I always think I’m not going to do these lists and then I find my self thinking about it until I start writing.

2 You may not know that I have fought being a gypsy all my life; since I was 2. I always think the last move will be the last move. Fifty moves and counting.

3. I picture my life like a movie. I was recently asked if I ever consider suicide. The thought has crossed my mind, but really, I have to see how this all turns out. I wonder if they roll credits....

4. Sunflowers are my favorite flower.
5. I prefer dark moody music to light, happy little tunes. (Mazzy Star, Lisa Gerrard, Steve Roach) Even when it comes to Christmas music.

6. I like dark roast coffees best.

7. Me and Chai are having a torrid love affair, but don’t tell coffee.

8. When choosing between something healthy and sweets, I will never pick sweets.

9. I am not a fan of dessert, not fond of cake and refuse to bake cookies for any reason.

10. I prefer Indie movies over Hollywood blockbusters.

11. I have owned 15 computers. All of them were gifts except the last one.
12. Favorite frozen treat: real raspberry sorbet.

13. I am at war with socks until December.

14. Carbonated drinks make me sneeze.

15. I have not bought a loaf of bread since May. I prefer wheat or corn wraps.

16. Cereal and I have called it quits. It has been relegated to the snack food category and if I ever indulge, treat it as such.

17. Just got back from a road trip and discovered, what I had suspected all along: My kid and I get along as well as any of my friends, and she’s a great driver. It was one of the best vacations of my life. But I am hoping to take more trips.

18. I’ve been to 22 of 50 states.

19. Love Cilantro over parsley, Salsa over ketchup and ground red pepper over black.
20. Think its better to have loved and lost, been heartbroken and rejected, than never having loved.

21. My artistic ability was born out of a need to express myself when powers that be didn’t want to hear me.

22. Best single decision: Becoming a follower of Christ. In 17 years, I've never looked back.
23. Could be happy just about anywhere as long as I had a paper and pen.

24. Have never considered myself attractive, pretty or beautiful.

25. Would rather part with clothes than books.

I saw this on Jack's blog and if you want to see his list, click this link. Jack Bunny's post. But, if you have blog, maybe you will tell me 25 things I don't know about you?

Change Your Life

2011-09-10T18:24:00.000-05:00

This morning I was walking to the Worthington Farmer's Market they have on Saturday mornings. It's so refreshing to go for a walk at a pace I enjoy.

I heard this song and thought, it fits.

Melancholy Rain

2011-09-08T09:00:00.021-05:00

For a long time, I couldn't tell if it was raining or not. It sounded like wind in the leaves then rushing traffic . It had looked cloudy and grey all day, never got much above 60 and I wanted it to rain.
I wasn't going to cook when I got home, but after I got the chill, I started thinking how good green chili stew would be on a day like this. Next thing I know, I have a chicken breast brazing in a skillet, the onions chopped and the redskin potatoes right behind them. I can't help but think of Karyl, New Mexico and how good it's going to taste in the bowl I bought in Santa Fe.
I'm l listening to Gregorian Chant, or something that actually sounds like a tribal Indian lament. I don't mind it, and actually it helps maintain the frame of mind I wanted to write from. I'm writing a letter to someone who will never receive it. I have to do it for me, say the things that are on my mind, try to make sense of them. Even now, it seems to defy logic how so much good and so much bad could co-exist for so long.
I guess it goes back to something I grew up believing, that no matter what you start you should finish, or die trying. So much of my life seemed to be about that. Not about love, or if one sees it, or feels it anymore. I second guess myself about love, and if I feel it at all. Have I ever? It's like trying to bask in the violet light of a rainbow. For me love is elusive, a feeling I always brush fingertips with but never fully grasp, either to make or last or even stay.

I heard a man in Panera the other day (I'm sure everyone did, my ear buds were jammed deep into my head and even on volume seven, I heard him over my music.) He said his life is too short to read books he isn't interested in. He may start a book and if he can't catch the rhythm, or the mood, he puts it down.
How profound. I wonder how much different life would be if relationships were like books? If we tired of one, or figured it out or it became unbelievable or too frightening we could lay them aside.

When I was in counseling, she kept trying to tell me I was afraid of something. I denied it until I I thought she might have the luxury of perspective. I carefully considered it a very long time. Months. It was heartbreaking and difficult to admit how afraid I was, not of leaving, but of staying. It took me a long time to realize that I was not afraid of my hubbs per se, but of the things he might do base on what was already happening. The extremes that he came to based on a simple innocuous word.

The bad days came more often and were like sonic booms, shaking the windows and cracking foundations and splintering the under girding of the fragile bridges that connected us.

I've already had several invitations for meals out and while I know I am still committed to my hubbs, it does my soul good to know that other people find me good company.

The rain falls like a shower outside, a steady curtain of unrelenting downward mist; the gelid air clings to my toes like damp socks, reminding me of a time back in college. Lauren and I each had loft beds and tall crank out windows. I'd leave mine open on cold rainy days and listen to the November rain pattering on cars, leaves and the asphalt parking lot. I slept or stared with my head facing the window as often as I could. My desk aligned with the view, curtain permantently corraled for maximum unobstructed viewing pleasure. From my vantage point (3rd ceiling of Verder Hall, Kent State) I could see over Blanket Hill to the light across campus to the art building and there, a little traffic light blinked red: day, night, rain, snow.

Lauren ( pronounces Law-ren) would come in complaining that we could freeze sides of beef and close the window. The second she left, I'd climb down from my perch and crank it open again. November rain is as melancholy as a cello, as forlorn as bagpipes at a funeral. Even today's September weather ushers in the slow, grey ebb of hibernation.

It would be sensible to shut the back door, and curl up under that new Mexican blanket Sam got me when we were shopping at Jackalopes. But I'm caught in a moment that is timeless and lingering and I don't make a move or break the spell. There's still enough light to write by and that seems to be enough for now.

Landscaping With A Nuclear Bomb

2011-09-06T09:00:00.003-05:00

I sit in my favorite spot before work and think about the journey I have found myself on. Like I am living in some parallel universe, somehow. And I can still see shadows of the life I had been living before this one. Although neither is quite complete, I feel that once things shake out, they will eventually become past and present.
It seems impossible some days to fathom how quickly a life can change. A car accident, a bad choice, a broken promise and a spoken word can change the landscape of a relationship as quickly as if a nuclear bomb went off; and the fallout can last just as long.

I still find my chest tightening at the thought that this was so close to just keeping on. How, that day, I didn’t really think about my leaving as permanent, just as the next logical step… I didn’t think about how he was going to take it, how we would ever put this back together, or even if we could. It didn’t occur to me then that I would still not be at home months from that day, and unless by some divine intervention, I had no home to go back to.

Although my life has become slightly slower paced, I have a great deal to accomplish by this time next year. It isn’t all vacations in the New Mexican sun, either, or Pina Coladas with girlfriends, although we may have to do that at some point.

There are personal belongings to evaluate, give away or sell. I am going through a mental restructuring as far as where energy is being spent. There are healing processes to navigate, and quite possibly, a few legal wranglings to be dealt with. I can hardly fathom what will take place in the next week let alone a year from now. But, so far, my friends are solid, shiny upstanding people that I love, my family of origin has come together in all the expected ways, and I love them for it.

My daughter has been inspirational in ways that she may never understand, but because she is who she is, a fascinating and opinionated young woman, I have seen the strength in her that I once had, and will regain. Until then, I have been given the give of “now” and I want to spend it wisely, lavishly and without regret, and not waste a single drop.

Carpe Diem.

Just the Right Song

2011-09-01T09:00:00.002-05:00

We've all probably had that experience where the song we were listening to captures the moment that we are living through. It could be love, romance, heartbreak, or the dawning of a new day, or a new perspective.

Rather than re-invent the wheel, we let that song carry us awhile and explain the feelings we are experiencing.

I will be embarking on a journey soon, and I expect to fail words quite a lot in the next 16 weeks. I will tell my story as it evolves, with words as emotions and insights permit.

But please know, there will inevitable be lots and lots of songs.

http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Smarter-lyrics-Eisley/89584A270348335F482575A60009A45D

I L B O K

2011-08-30T09:00:00.002-05:00

Landslide

2011-08-27T09:00:00.000-05:00

Augustana in August and a few Prevailing Thoughts

2011-08-25T22:09:00.004-05:00

I know you were worried about me,
thought I lost myself.

But I didn't. I was the two edged sword always keeping the sharpe edge away. Careful not to cut. Careful not to poke or draw blood. It was always there, shiny and sharp if I needed it.

He wasn't careful. Self involved, fighting demons I couldn't see, or hear or feel.
Except when they cut him, poked him, tormented him. And it went through and through me like a shot.
If he cared, he never showed it.
Until the door slammed him awake.

Pop used to say GIGO, means
Garbage in, garbage out. It never made so much sense as lately.
But I wasn't garbage in.
He was still garbage out.
I was loving caring supporting. I prayed, encouraged, supported until I turned myself inside out.
Not because I said so.
Because everyone who knew us told me.

And then, I realized, the world was wide open again, I could go where ever I needed to go.
The untethered balloon free to fly
Wherever the wind blew me,
Drive wherever friends covered me.
Sail where ever the Lord led me.

And maybe I have to cut ties from him and be a million miles away from where he could hurt me: Arizona, Albuquerque, Australia, British Columbia, California, Colorado, Florida, France, Indiana, Israel, Kentucky, Michigan, Pennsylvania, United Kingdom,Virginia, Wisconsin, Even in our own backyard.
He didn't know me.

Small Comfort in Mad World

2011-08-23T09:00:00.002-05:00

This is song I return to again and again.

Maybe you get it. I just wish for semblance of normal.

Maybe if you told me that it isn't going to happen here,

I could just move on and pray for Heaven.

Glitter

2011-08-20T09:00:00.001-05:00

All that glitters is not gold.

Freedom comes in crazy unexpected packages.

Walking papers

look different to different people.

Sometimes letting go is hand to hand.

The eyes close, the breath ceases

limits drop off.

The control is lifted,

A point is conceded

and a King is 'mated.

Game over.

Glitter

looks like different things to differerent people.

The phone doesn't ring.

Lips are sealed,

A cage door is left open.

This is what the key looks like.

Loving From Very Far Away

2011-08-18T09:00:00.003-05:00

I had never intended to give up. It wouldn't be the first time I out-waited someone, gutted it out, or that my do or die attitude took me to this place. This place the broken eggshells of failed walking.

I felt the crush of it flattening the air out of my lungs. I knew that if I couldn't breathe in, I woud die. I couldn't seem to pinpoint where I wanted to go, Only that I coudn't stay.
I stood in front of my desk more than once, wondering what things I would take if I had to leave? Then I found myself there, one early fall day, wondering why I hadn't oraganised things better. Why hadn't I planned my exit strategy?
I didn't think I would really have to leave.

Who can really fully plan to leave and fully plan to stay at the same time?
Yet, that was the unholy place I found myself returning to again and again... While the moorings of my life become uprooted and unlashed. I prayed for a port in a storm but found myself riding the tsunami that wipes out everything in its path.

It was deja vu all over again, when I explained to a few close friends what I was living with, and people looked at me with that withered expression of I-don't-know. The problem seemed overwhelming as whole.

A hole.

A giant black life-sucking vortex.
The last time I found myself here, I was standing on the linoleum skinned floor in a hospital, with a suicidal mother gazing at me like she couldn't believe she was still earth-bound.
Eventually, I had to peel myself from her onto whatever liferaft I found within reach.

Realizing only much much later, distance can be your very best friend.

Try it on for size. I'm 2000 miles away right now

Special Vacation Edition

2011-08-17T19:02:00.000-05:00

I know there are concerns about a lot of things. My heart, my head.
The people I have trusted, and especially the ones who have broken my heart.

But this song is for the people who love me unconditionally and who have inspired me, and encourage me. You know who you are.
And this song is for you. I carry you in my heart always.

Apologize

2011-08-16T09:00:00.008-05:00

Words won't save you this time.
I need action,
And you know what I'm asking for.
Your ball
your court.
The clock is ticking.
You don't get forever on this one.

Special Delivery

2011-08-13T09:00:00.001-05:00

You’ve absolutely got to be joking if you think the siren isn’t going to go off about this one.

I came in from work, not up or down, but concerned for the heart of my friend “G” who worries about the health of her recently continuously thinning cat. (A cat that looks like our beloved Coco.You had me at 'prrrrrrrrrrrrrrr'.)

Nonetheless, my roomie, bless her heart, indulges my concern, until I start for my room at the end of the hall. She warns me about a special delivery that showed up in the yard. Not on the step. Not by the door, but out in the grass. (Thanks for leaving it in the grass, and not in the middle of the street.) Certainly our mailman has more respect for contents than to deliver something that way, especially given the rainy conditions that we’ve experienced this year. A plastic bag would have been nice.

That aside, she saw my name scrawled on the box and saw that it was for me, and recognized it as something from the person everyone is Freudian-ly referring to as “the ex.” (Maybe they know something I don’t.)

She is not her normal happy self. Have I ever told you how protective of me she can be? Her brow is curled thick with disdain and her foot might be twitching with a little kick-ass.

I could write about recent events, about his letters, which had sweetness in them, or the cards that, at first glance, carried some significance. Or I could tell you about the recent disasters, where expectations were not met, or phone calls were not made. I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think about them; I do, the way someone puzzles over trying to solve Rubik’s cube, or Sudoku or maybe why Mona Lisa smiled at all.

I said, “Well, thank you for not throwing it in the trash. Let’s just cut to the chase. I’ll open it in front of you.” (At least if I pass out, from dead animal shock or anthrax there is someone to revive me.)

No explanation. "Closet things" written on the box. No note. Plastic clothing hangers. Then blue tissue paper. Underneath that, many cards I’d given my beloved over the past few years, two small plastic clocks, (travel clocks—how ironic!) And a few hand made gifts I’d given him and actually, was quite glad to see. (Thank you for returning them.) The Harley pocket watch (Really? It's Franklin Mint...) And... wait for it... wait for it...

His wedding ring.

I guess that throwing it in the yard was my indication that you don't want me to safe keep this? A dramatic dig? Is there a message in this? How many times do you think you can return it to me and affect me? Here you are, I'll give you this much: it's hurtful every time you do it. But right now I’m have plans to melt it down into something that will remind me of a happier time.
Ok? Are we finished with this now? I’m still hankering for Molly Woo’s tofu curry and, now quite honestly, a beer. A 22 oz Sapporo.

So I folded the box back together, ring goes skittering to a corner. I toss out the duck tape with which it was held together (a silver lining??) and stow the special box under the house.
Seriously, is anyone else hungry? I am not in the mood for this b.s. today.

I have a taker on dinner. I'm buying. It was a completely gorgeous day, the sun shining brightly, a few clouds, cool temperatures. We're seated on the patio. The tofu curry is fabulous (incidentally it isn’t called that because it’s made with various meats, and the chicken is great, but Samantha the server will hook you up with it if you just request her section...) And a film crew is shooting meals and patrons enjoying the food.

So, while my sweet roomie was pretty steamed about the package, I had to consider she didn’t just come out of eight years of this type of behavior. It clues me in that this is bad behavior. (I must remind you, that if you are reading this, I will be telling the pastoral staff, my mentors and more of my friends. It’s all part of the healing process: Shine the light.)

Additionally, it was predictable. A FULL MOON presents this weekend. If you want to do something really radical and completely unexpected, get help. Recover, take care of yourself. Get healthy. Maybe then we would have a chance. You want to make this a ministry? Then show me how willing you are to do ANYTHING to reconcile. I would. I have.

Are you happy now? I wrote about you.
And for what it’s worth, I love you still. I forgive you. All of it still needs to be addressed starting with April 24th. But, FYI: you can hang your Harley helmet on this: things between us will never ever be the same.

Really

2011-08-11T09:00:00.002-05:00

Vegan Lunches and Dinner for a Week

2011-08-09T09:00:00.001-05:00

Top: Sauteed summer squash, jicama
middle:sauteed swiss chard, sauteed peppers,
Jalapeno cilantro paste,
Red beans and rice, falafel

As a person who is no longer required to make dinner every night, I find that I don't mind cooking a few times a week. What really helps me out, though, is planning ahead, and one day to cook sides for the week.

Over the weekend I laid out all the vegetables I wanted to cook, those farmer's market veggies that look so succulent when you buy them might look like a lot of work to prepare once you get them home.

My roomie has a veggie chopper that makes that step a breeze. It comes in two grid sizes: half inch and smaller than that.

I use the smaller chopping grid to make Lime Salted Jicama matchstick, while flame roasting jalapenos and tomatillos on the grill.

Meanwhile, I make red beans and rice (out of a box, just boil water).

I made pan fried falafel from scratch using canned chick peas.

Falafel

There are lots of variations on this, so use the ingredients you are familiar with, or like. Unless you're pressed for time, I recommend making a double batch and storing the leftovers in a plastic containtainer. They reheat well and make a great wrap.

2 Cans of chickpeas
3 crushed Matzo crackers ( I like whole wheat)
1/2 red onion
1/2 C cilantro
1/2 C parsley
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. cayenne pepper
salt and pepper to taste

2 tsp baking soda

Drain and blend chickpeas with cilantro, crackers, onion, soda and spices. Let rest 30 minutes then form into small patties. In a frying pan, swirl with olive oil till coated and fry til golden brown, turn and repeat.

You can serve them on pita, with yogurt sauce, but I served three on a whole wheat wrap and the new Jalapeno Sauce with chopped tomatoes and the jicama. Also for a variation, try all cilantro with no parsley.

Metaphoric Silver Band

2011-08-06T09:00:00.000-05:00

I bought a thin, silver, wavy band thumb ring about ten years ago, while working a craft fair on the bottom floor of a business building in the early fall. It cost me four dollars but I’ve worn it everyday since the day I put it on with a few rare exceptions.

It was on my right hand the day I married my second husband, on every one of our vacations, through every single argument, meal cooked and dish washed. It stayed with me when I grabbed handfuls of personal belongings the day I moved out.

It was just after the move that the hairline crack in it became apparent to me. A complete fissure from top to bottom, clear through. By looking at it, there was no way to tell when it had happened, the edges had not softened as though worn by time, it had not worn thin in one spot and given out. It was split. I just remember thinking, how appropriate. Did I really need to have a metaphor?

Maybe it goes back to my finding a use for things that are slightly flawed, broken handled mugs, clothing seconds…But because the crack was not noticeable to anyone else, I kept wearing the ring. I didn’t expect it to heal on its own, nor could I bear the thought of just throwing it out. It looked basically the same. Sometimes it pinched. I worried that the strength of it was seriously compromised now and had to be on my guard in case, by some unforeseen event, the ring found itself crimped to my thumb, or worse, thumb impaled by it.

Try as I might to avoid thinking about it, the correlation to my current relationship was unmistakable. I could visit the land of silver and get a new ring, one that was shiny, perfectly round and new, even thought it felt like a bit of a betrayal. I could stop wearing it, stick it in a drawer and only look at it once in a while and think how long it lasted, and what a shame that it hadn’t lasted as long as I’d hoped it would.

Maybe I could take what was left of it and make it into something new, different, still wearable, just a different way. It looks like enough silver to melt into a small heart with a hole to put a chain through.

Unlike my relationship, it didn’t make sense to me to invest more in the ring than I paid for it, even to repair it. Maybe someday I will come across a silver smith who will be able to do something with it… In the meantime, while a tried to decide what to do next, the ring stayed on my thumb where I was constantly reminded—just by its presence—that it was broken.

Then, just when I got used to nursing the ring through each day, the crack widened. No amount of pressing it together kept it together the way it was. Now the ring seemed at greater risk of being bent, damaged and twisted. Of course, it disturbed me too, that the gap had finally become noticeable. It made me feel sad.

I have a lot of fond memories of that ring, and all we’ve been through. All we were going through until today. I took it off and for now, going to set it aside until I find that silver smith.

Letter to Heaven

2011-08-02T09:00:00.006-05:00

I've wanted to call you a thousand times and ask you hundreds of questions. The first one, how did you navigate the last 24 years of your life with out your dad? I wish I had thought to ask you that before you left.

I don't think I am doing such a bang-up job. I wish you were here to tell me how to make it work, or at least how to make it better.

All my very top advisors have been knocked for a loop in their health, and I fear losing them all.

I have never felt so alone as I have lately. My heart is so broken, that I think my face is getting longer by the day.

Dad, I'm trying to do what is honest and true, to live above reproach just like you always said... but life just isn't working out the way I hoped.

And I can't fix it. I don't know how.

Everyone who cares about me wants to help, but they, too, are at a loss. We're down to some hard decisions. I feel fortunate to have so many caring people praying, offering sane, solid advice. Biblical advice, even. They all want my best, I know they do. I'm sure you would agree.

But when the street lights are shining down out of the pitch colored sky, or I'm standing in front of the pile of belongings that my life has been reduced to, I wonder if this is ash enough for a Phoenix rebirth. When I face the truth that things haven't been right for a very long time, I wonder how it will ever be untangled and if it can be made right. I wonder if I'm going to walk away from this with a limp for the rest of my life.

artistkirstendalecutler.blogspot.com

I feel sure you have an inside scoop on how all this turns out. Maybe you and Jesus talk about it every day, and have set in motion the remedy even now. Even though the chasm between life and death seems as wide as the universe itself, I just wish you could call me and give me something to hold onto, some thread of hope. I don't need much, Dad. Just a little something. A sign to recognize. An arrow pointing the way.

Or maybe there isn't any.

I guess if that's the case, I just want to know what the next step should be. If it's the truth, I can handle it. I may not like, may wish for a different outcome, but I can deal with that.

Thanks for listening.

I really miss you.

Wish you were here.

In Search of Silver Linings

2011-07-28T09:00:00.001-05:00

I went to meet up with a relative I hadn’t seen in a while. His pale house stood in a triangle of clover-green, clipped lawn. The narrow, gravel driveway, punctuated by an aging white Ford Focus, seemed in danger of being absorbed by the yard. From the porch of the bungalow style house, the dark eye of a console television stared blindly across the street.

Next to the stairs, leading up to the porch, a strong and healthy tomato plant grew.

As I stepped into the house, I thought about the recent house standard, Mc Mansions, easily 2000 plus square feet, and how this house would fit in the living room of most of them. And while it was small, it was still larger than I like. Even still, it felt too crowded, too stuffed.

His new lady friend, had moved in and she still carried giant bruises. She was thin and wiry in the way that women are who have endured too much life beyond their years. She seemed intelligent, and said she’d been a licensed pharmacologist, but they had pulled her license because she was bi-polar and had to fight with herself to stay on her meds.

We discussed mental illness and medications for a while; hers, my relative’s and people who might ought to consider meds, as well as the battle to stay on it. Both of them said that when they start feeling better, they can easily be deceive themselves into thinking they can take themselves off of it. Each keeps the other on it.

A storm had thundered through the night, lightning flashing against the walls like a movie projector. Rain pounded on every window, leaving tell-tale drops on the glass, and the wet trail of a stream in the basement. A heat wave had blanketed us in stifling, wooly-hot air for nearly two weeks, and despite storms, it didn’t lift. If anything, it felt even moreso like a sauna.

I would have been content to stay home, in the refrigerated chill of air conditioning and shade, behind drawn vertical blinds. But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent time outside; I didn’t want another summer weekend to pass breathing recycled air.

I’m thinking of someone else now, who might need to be on meds. I’m wondering if they know. Who can tell them? Who will say the magic words that will soak into this person’s head and make them understand how important it is? We had a bad incident almost two weeks ago. A misunderstanding that I got blamed for. I should be used to it, but I’m not. It still hurts. Hurts to be misunderstood, hurts to be the sounding board for so much confusion. Stinks even more to be in the middle of the sane and the not-so-much, I see both sides. It doesn’t make sense, but I’m used to it. I was raised this way.

When I get to the Marina, two other cars are parked in the lot near the shelter. The cars and the shelter are devoid of beings. The cars belong to fisherman, who cast their lines from the stony, dirt beaches that edge the reservoir. Even with ear-buds crammed into my head, I can still hear the cicadas in the trees, and the water washing the gravel, long after boats pass by.

A couple of rowboats dot the water and I wonder what is the smallest legal watercraft that can be out on the reservoir? Does it have to be motorized? I consider obtaining a yellow, self-inflating raft and wonder if I will ever get to sail out there?

A seagull circled in wide loops over the shimmering water, then swooped down low enough to touch it. Then it rose, like a blade of light against a forest-green backdrop. The clouds had conspired to hover in a hazy, pale mass, delivering roasting breezes and holding the humidity to miserable levels. The clouds have shape-shifted, but otherwise seem stuck to the sky. They haven’t moved since my arrival.

I check my phone every five minutes to see if that someone else will make the first move this week. So far, they haven’t. Two weeks no phone calls.

I don’t mind checking, the internal screen saver on my phone is a photo of a silver lining, taken at the end of last fall. I’d been driving for nearly 20 minutes before I noticed one long, continuous band of cloud, like a bar, dropped across the horizon. The sky had been brightening, like the beginning of a typical day, but the sun had not yet broken through. It was then that I noticed the silver lining, not just edging a bit of cloud, but it ran for miles, across the whole eastern sky. I stopped the car to take a picture of it, having never seen anything like it in all my years of sky-watching. The meaning of it wasn’t lost on me, as someone who always looks for such things in even the worst circumstance.

My silver lining was miles long. I’ve needed every inch of it.

The fifteen-minute warning alarm for our weekly phone call makes my phone burr on the cement table. If they call, I will answer, try to figure out what set them off, try to understand what’s going on in their life, and heart and head. Then, I’ll spend the next week trying to get their words to make some kind of sense.

Above me, a cloud that looks like a sea-sponge, cruises by on a new, cooler breeze. The other clouds have slowly melded into a pale haze over the horizon. More boats float up and back. The edge of their wake rolls toward shore, an illuminated silver line of light. I wait, knowing any second it will wash in like a tide. When it does, I hear it; four whooshes then the fading motor of a pontoon boat, I open my eyes just in time to see him disappear.

I’m trying to figure out if this thing we call marriage can be patched up, or if I’m trying to make a marriage out of patches. If he doesn’t call, that’s ok. I’ll look down the miles of silver lining, until I smile again.

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

2011-07-26T09:00:00.001-05:00

You know it sucks when you think you are doing everything right and it blows up in your hands. Or that you keep trying to be kind to someone who really takes it for granted.

It's been a difficult two years at my house, and now, I am living somewhere else, with a very dear friend of mine. We are a lot alike and it's nice feeling the freedom I should have had all along to be myself.
While the relationship is kind of "in the shop" I am working on refining things about myself, making clearer boundaries, speaking more clearly, learning a deeper level of diplomacy.

I've decided that I'm going to be enemies with Jillian Michaels and do her work outs anyway. I know they work, but while I'm doing them I think about how much I love and hate her. My eyes love the results, my body hates being tortured back into shape. I must do it now or I think I should become a frail desk jockey.
I've gone back to being mostly vegan, but I am not a purist. You put a fat charcoal grilled burger in my path and I will savor every bite. But still, my limit is two per year.

If I am honest, things at home have not been great. They've been just the inside shade of harrowing.
But as a person who is born to live above reproach, to tell the whole truth and live transparently, I have been hiding behind reviews lately.

If you are one of my review fans, I encourage you to follow me on The Morrison Pen Review or
Amazon where I have learned to tell it like I see it without repercussion. (I've blocked feedback)
This blog the Radical Write is about to go in a direction not for the faint of heart. I used to be worried
about what certain people thought. But I realized that I was allowing the warped opinions of a few to affect the sane insights of the many. or so it seemed to me.
NONE THE LESS let you be hereto for warned that although I will let the opinions of many be published they do not reflect the opinions of the writer.

Please note we are taking a left turn. If you are afraid, jump off at any time. You can re-board later. This voyage is at times frightening, and horrifying at points. and sometimes even I close my eyes.
But never, ever do I abandon my hope, my prayer or my God. I believe that because he is in the miracle business, anything at all is possible. I could wake up a rabbit and my husband a magician. (Today I would be plenty happy if we woke up husband and wife in the same house)
But I can no longer call myself a writer and not write what I know.
Even if what I know is minute by minute.

Let the record show, I love my husband. I am hopeful that no matter what we are going through, that it can be redeemed. Through counseling, psychology, committment, love and the will of God that he desires every marriage to succeed.

I am asking, pleading, begging Him to prove it. To show Himself in a way that will show others, draw others to Himself and heal me, my beloved and all those who are attached to us and love us.
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I want to be real, raw, truthful and above all else, fair.
This is the most excruciating journey of my young life. There are still many days ahead of me. And while I know many who have survived and thrived the tough times in their marriages, I hope to glean wisdom from them. (as long as they are patient to share it.)
Sometimes I will ask you to grab the wheel. We are in for one helluva ride.
I can promise but one thing, I will be as discreet as possible, people will not be named. I may not tell all, but...
I'll be radically honest.
If that's a problem, I wish you well.

Back to My Roots

2011-07-19T09:00:00.002-05:00

I got to looking around at this blog and realized that as much as I like reading and reviewing books, that's not why many of you visit me here. So I have branched out a bit and started a Review blog called the The Morrison Pen Review. There, you will see the latest things that I'm looking at, reviewing and talking a bit about. It's also the intention of this writer to portage all the reviews posted here in the past, to that site.
But from today on, no more reviews.

I heard you. We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog...

You wouldn't think something as simple as changing the color of your hair could so profoundly affect one's psychology. I have long desired to be separate from the woman who gave me birth. I have moved hundreds of miles away, traveled outside the circles of her influence and avoided her for reasons that had to do with not wanting to mimic mannerisms and speech patterns. If I am more distinctly me, she is more distinctly herself. I felt Ihad accomplished my goal when someone said, you look like your dad.
I've talked to her more in recent weeks than I have in years. She confided that she must be on medication to maintain some sort of balance in her life. Members of my family can tell when she's off them, and when she is I really don't care to be around her. It is painful and difficult. Unfortunately, the meds are a bit cost prohibitive and she is entertaining the idea yet again...

Let me say this, there is no shame in being medicated. There is no shame in finding out what is not working in your life and getting it fixed. My mother was an unwilling visitor in a psyche ward when I was 20. She had traumatized our entire family by her second suicide attempt. (The first happened when I was just a little kid of four of five) It is an episode in my life that I will never forget. Parts of it pain me still. I still keep that box relatively sealed, because it does not comfort me to see anyone exhibit even the least of the signs she showed.

I worried for years that I would take after her, worried about my mental health and signs of illness. I worried it would sieze me out of the blue all at once. It has been fortuitous and sad that I know so many instances of mental illness in people around me, a few of them were lost over the years, signs were missed. I have visited one in the psyche ward, listened to their rantings on the phone, seen the damage they could do in person. The fear that one lives with because of it is not normal or healthy.

I've been called "crazy", never diagnosed as such, even when it seemed more hip to be nuts. it was more because of my out of the box thinking. Early in my first marriage I just wanted someone to let me know if I was sliding sideways off the rails. I entrusted people to be vigilant. I have since discovered that I am not at risk, and have a sound mind and body. I am grateful everyday. I do not judge those who are on medications of any kind. If that's what it takes to keep your clock ticking on time, then by all means, take it. If you were diabetic, or needed heart medication, or something for anxiety or to sleep at night, I would never stand between you and what a doctor prescribed.

Because I was so concerned for so long about the state of my mind, it never occurred to me that anyone around me would be sick. I never seemed to know they were, until there was a catastrophic event. So, I was ill-prepared to accept the possibility that someone close to me might not be well. But when I looked back, using those lenses to see, the signs were all there. But here's the thing, even if I did know it, and it was confirmed, how was a going to tell them?

What would you tell them?

Thick as Thieves

2011-07-17T21:00:00.000-05:00

When Thick as Thieves by Peter Spiegelman showed up at my door and I saw the page count of 295, I groaned. I didn’t remember ordering the book, and wasn’t quite sure I was ready for it. After putting on my sunning clothes, pouring an iced-tea then grabbing my MP3 player, I reluctantly picked up the novel the Lee Childs called “slick, sophisticated and satisfying” and set out to lounge in the chaise.

My plan was to read the first chapter, close my eyes and listen to music while napping in the afternoon sun. It was the phrase at the end of the first sentence… "Carr hears voices in the walls," that reached out like a tentacle and grabbed hold of my imagination. The next thing I knew, my skin was slightly burnt, my tea was empty and I was closing the book on chapter ten. I felt like I was in the middle of the tropical heat they were experiencing in Miami.

While I went about my day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Carr, Latin Mike, Bobby, Dennis and was haunted by Val. I wonderer what Carr was going to do about his father, and this team—that didn’t seem quite loyal—that he’d just begun to lead on the Prader job.

I fell in love with the story. I’d read a few chapters and stop intentionally to see if I could figure out how things would play out. In this way, the story seemed more real, more surprising than reading it straight through. Even though I was wrong about the way it went, I savored that story as much as I could.

Even as the chapters wound down, and I was desperate to see how it all turned out, didn’t want the story to end. If you like intelligent thrillers that always keep you guessing, Spielgelman’s Thick as Thieves won’t disappoint.

Thomas Newman - I forgive you

2011-07-12T19:30:00.001-05:00

But what goes on with you isn't up to me.

Morgan Bramlet Does it Again!

2011-06-28T09:00:00.002-05:00

Genexus is a novel about an event that could be closer than many of us would be comfortable thinking about: Genetically engineered super humans.

I was just going to skim the first chapter, but this story gripped me and wouldn’t let go.

Although parts of the book read a bit like an athletic achievement report, it set the tone for how superior the six subjects in “D” series were, and made them more accessible.

I connected more with Jamie and Athena, the characters who wanted to help the "D" series children: Demetri, Derek Daniela, Diana David and Dominique. The kids are slated to be euthanized, having been raised for information in a state of the art high-security environment. But they're more like junior scientists at VanGen Biotechnology Corporation, than masterminds of corporate espionage. Could they really pull off kidnapping the company's most top secret investments? Six noticeably strange-looking ten-year olds?

This story had me guessing to the end, and I had to keep reading to see how far they'd get and what would happen next. The twists and turns did not fail to surprise.

This story has all the makings of a major motion picture. But until then, pick up a copy of this book and enjoy the ride. Incidentally, if you take it on vacation for a summer read, make sure you apply plenty of sun protection. Once you start reading it, you won’t want to stop.

A copy of this book was provided to me by the author in exchange for my opinion.

Who Will Remember?

2011-06-23T09:00:00.001-05:00

Who Will Remember from Lindsey Leanne on Vimeo.

Kudos to Lindsey Jones and her film crew for producing this amazing video based on the essay, Ghost of Christmas Past. I really like the way they updated the theme and made it more relevant. Great cinematograhy and staging. Congratulations!

Big Taste In the Small Kitchen

2011-06-16T09:00:00.001-05:00

Having recently downsized my life, and moved to smaller quarters, In the Small Kitchen was a fresh perspective on cooking. Written by two ladies who have been friends since 7th grade, their delightful and eclectic stories are sprinkled through out along with mouthwatering photos of their delectable dishes. Together, Cara Eisenpress and Phoebe Lapine brighten what could be considered a mundane daily chore.

I think there's at least one recipe for everyone in this book, from Vegan to Carnivore. I found one in every chapter. The recipe for "noodles with bgsk peanut sauce" and "soy-honey baked tofu" were wonderful.

Along with social rules of engagement, tenets of byob and a year's worth of occasion for which to cook or have dinner parties, you will be well equipped to make delicious meals. This book is great for the off-campus college bound student, your new graduate, newly weds or anyone who has a small kitchen. The recipes are easy to follow but the reults are pleasantly exotic. The ingredients are easy to find just about anywhere (they are based in New York).

There are recipes for the solo or the sharer (up to ten people.) I love this book!

Daniel Wurtzel

2011-06-09T09:00:00.002-05:00

Our friend George finds the coolest stuff. So I wanted to share this with you. Of course, I am not familiar with the song, but it moves me anyway, just like this fabric. I watched thinking at times that it looked like someone was inside of it dancing.
Watch and tell me what you think.

Energized by Amino Energy

2011-06-07T09:00:00.002-05:00

I've been working out for years but had slacked in recent months. I was looking for a way to kick-start a new work out routine when I saw this product and decided to give it a shot. I mostly do Pilates and Jillian Michaels with a bit of Core Rythms thrown in.

What I liked about it right away was there was no sugar or aspartame in it. It tasted great, even though I am not a fan of grape-flavored anything. I liked that you could add it to water, not juice. The Concorde Grape flavor was a pleasing shade of purple even with only 1 scoop and tastes distinctly grape without tasting watered down. When using 2 scoops in a 20 oz. bottle of water it tasted stronger, but not cloying or over-sweet. It dissolves quickly, and doesn't get lumpy in the bottom of a bottle (some other products needed more dissolving time.)

I notice when I drink it I am not so hungry even hours after working out. If I drink it half an hour before an afternoon workout I feel ready to go the distance. I also have more energy for the routine. Mentally, I feel sharper. I've been at it for just over a week and already notice a difference in the way my body looks and the way I feel. I can't wait to try the other flavors too, and would recommend this product to all my work out buddies.

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The Dumpster

2011-06-04T09:00:00.004-05:00

As I started reading The Dumpster by author Becky Due, I couldn’t imagine how I was going to get through it. I am not a fan of Romance Novels and thought this was going to be one long painful read. I also prefer actual books to electronic readers and was not looking forward to the prospect of reading an electronic version.

The main character, Nicole, is just a little bit quirky, obssessive and slightly insecure. I liked that she wasn’t a blonde-haired blue-eyed beauty queen with everything going her way. When her new love interest furnished her with a cheap DVD player bailed on her by DVD, the story got a little more interesting. It certainly was a twist on getting dumped.

The dumpster really hooked me too, what it brought, what it took, what Nicole found there and what Nicole threw into it. I found myself laughing out loud and thinking about the characters. What was going to happen next? Before I knew it, I was halfway through the book. It seemed more of a romantic comedy than a romance novel. Once I stopped resisting, I got pulled into the story and really enjoyed it. I would recommend this light hearted book as a fast summer beach read.

COMMAND Damage-Free Hanging

2011-06-04T09:00:00.001-05:00

After living in apartments and rentals most of my life, I thought I had tried just about everything out there. My last dwelling had me stumped; Instead of white walls there was wall paper. Since there seems to be no way to undamaged wallpaper, we tried integrating the nail holes into the patter so they would be less noticeable. Command brand picture hanging system is a different kind of picture frame hanger than what I’m used to. I wish I had known about this system then.

The package contained holds for medium and small lpictures. Medium ranges from 9x12 up to 18x 24, small poster size. The small holds can sustain up to 8 x 10. The hangers in my package came in sheets of four and pulled apart into four strips about ¾ of an inch wide and 2 and ½ inches long. Two inches of one side is adhesive, on the other a sort of Velcro like plastic that interlocks when pressed against another strip. The remaining ½ inch is a sturdy tab for later removal.

It’s the placement of these strips, or holds as they are called, and their placement on the picture frame itself that allows the hanging system to be so effective. For a smaller frame, four holds are placed on the verticals of the frame. Then four matching holds are placed on the wall. Press the frame holds onto the wall holds. You will hear a distinctive snapping sound as the tabs mesh together.

They disperse the weight of the picture and frame so that there is no longer a singular point of weight. The package is resealable if you don’t use them all at once. The card that explains their easy removal fits right inside. Following these directions, its easy see how they can make the claim to be damage-free hanging. I like them because I won’t have to repair nail holes when I move on. There are various sizes of holds and they also have hooks available.

The Voice

2011-06-02T09:00:00.000-05:00

He is not a man, He is not some little dude behind a big curtain pretending to be bigger than life.
This one has all the answers. Sees the end from the beginning. Has seen the beginning and the end.

This one knows how it all plays out. He's seen it all, heard it all. And nothing fools this one.

I trust him implicitly.

You wanna get to me? Go though him.
You want to know what I want? Ask him.

He never fails, never fakes, never disappoints.

But you have to wait. He isn't on my schedule. Or yours.
Can you take it? Its' the ultimate challenge. Who wins?

You may not know until the end.

Can you fly by the seat of your pants? Can you be flexible?
Can you stand to be blessed?
Surprised? Healed?
Heartened ?
Redeemed?

This one is the one I measure all by. If I can stand before him, whatever decision I make,
and I know that he has me covered,
life is good.

Even when it feels like Hell.

Five Wrap Fillings in Two Hours

2011-05-31T09:00:00.035-05:00

Life's been a little crazy with trying to get my writing back on track after a move recently.
I have always enjoyed cooking and used to get inspired after going to the grocery store. So today I found ingredients that I had been missing for awhile and set out to make 5 veggie wrap stuffings that I could take to lunch all week. (And probably dinner too!)

SANTA FE CONFETTI
3 of each: red, orange and green peppers
1/2 lime
Cayenne pepper
Kosher salt.

Chop while heating my favorite, seasoned skillet, in which I pan-toasted five whole wheat tortillas in a dry skillet. Throw in peppers and sautee them over still medium heat, dry, until tender crisp. Do not stir. Sprinkle with a generous pinch of Kosher salt. Cut a lime in half and squeeze the juice over the peppers, stir, then cover and remove from heat. While that finishes... ( makes about 2 cups)

LIME CHILI HUMMUS

1 can chick peas,
cayenne pepper
1/2 lime
Kosher salt.

Open a can of chick peas, drain and reserve the juice. Place beans in a mini food chopper and blend. Squeeze the other half of the lime into the beans. Sprinkle with cayenne pepper, a pinch of salt and blend. When it seems a little dry, add the reserved juice as needed until beans are the desired consistency. Makes about one cup.

Chop two onions.
Place sauteed peppers in two bowls.

Put skillet back on medium heat, add one teaspoon olive oil. When oil becomes fragrant, add onions and a pinch of salt. Let that cook and --

MEXICO MEDLEY
Jicama
Tomatillos
Roma Tomatoes
Cilantro small handful

Peel, slice and chop Jicama into cubes until you have a half-cup. Slice 8 tomatillos into eighths
Cube 2 roma tomatoes. Chop cilantro.

When onions are slightly carmelized, add juice from half a lime. Split the onions, spoon half into the Santa Fe Confetti. Put the other half into another bowl. Return the pan to medium heat.

Add teaspoon of olive oil, then toss in jicama, tomatillo's and roma tomatoes. Squeeze half a lime over it, stir and let sautee until tomatillos are soft. About five minutes. Remove from heat. Add cilantro and two spoonfuls of onions to the mixture. Makes about 2 1/2 cups.

SIZZLED SQUASH
Chop three small zucchini, three small summer squash into cubes. (If you like more color, add julienned carrots.) Add one teaspoon oil to skillet on medium high heat and when the oil is fragrant, throw in zuchinnis and squash, and let sizzle with out stirring for five minutes. Add a splash of soy sauce and cover with a lid, five to seven minutes more . Add this to the remaining onions and stir until mixed. Makes about three cups.

BABA GANOUJ
I baked two eggplants earlier in the week, so while the squash csizzled, the eggplant went in the food chopper, with juice from half a lime, a few generous shakes of cayenne pepper (I like it zingy!) or bottled hot sauce if you prefer and a pinch of salt. The salt and citrus sem to compliment each other and bring out thier flavors and it doesn't take as much. Makes about a cup and a half.

Place in separate sealable containers and when you need a meal fast, you can heat this up in a wrap, or eat it at room temperature. Dress it up with cheese or lettuce if you like. Enjoy!

Corel Video Studio 4 Pro X.

2011-05-28T19:01:00.001-05:00

I got this program because I have always heard good things about Corel programs. Manned with the User’s guide and the computer right in front of me, I felt like this program required a prerequisite in Videography programs. I am new to the software and think it has a lot to offer. It seemed time intensive getting used to the features, I am still not completely comfortable with it, but did manage to slow down a video clip that I had been working on. I didn’t find it user friendly as one just becoming interested in producing videos but desiring professional results.

I anticipate becoming familiar with the program over the next few months, and may post a supplemental review once I am able to navigate the program better. I think it would have been better to have started with some lesser programs to compare this one too, but just bought a little flip camera to play around with. I am not finding this program easy, but hope over time that as I learn it, the program will be worth the time investment.

Australian Author Joanna Penn’s Debut Thriller Novel Pentecost Delivers.

2011-05-26T09:00:00.003-05:00

Dr. Morgan Sierra is surprised by a late-night meeting with research assistant, Matthew Fry. Fry intends to take her back to the

for a project arranged by Dr. Everett. As an unwitting keeper of one Apostle stone, she finds herself in the middle of questions surrounding it, and its potential power when reunited with the other eleven stones.

Before their meeting properly adjourns, Sierra and Fry become the target of Thanatos, a group who wants her stone. They’re willing to take it be whatever force necessary. Because of her training in the Israeli Defense Force, she is not faint hearted, but a pistol-packing femme fatale who trusts few individuals. She and Fry blast their way out and escape.

Intuitively, Morgan fears for her twin sister's safety, knowing that she too carried one of the stones. When Morgan discovers her sister and baby niece are missing, Morgan finds herself embroiled in a search for the other stones to save their lives.

Although the story is set in modern times, it takes the reader on a whirlwind tour of the Mediterranean Region. While the story leans on Church history, Penn keeps the reader turning the pages.

I enjoyed this Pentecost immensely and think it reads like watching a movie. I can’t wait to see if Penn continues the adventures of Morgan Sierra. In the days ahead, look forward to reading more from this author.

Still One of My Favs

2011-05-24T09:00:00.002-05:00

Turning Into Dust -- Mazzy Star

2011-05-24T09:00:00.001-05:00

Getting to be that time of year...

2011-05-19T09:00:00.005-05:00

I Wish You Could Smile

2011-05-17T09:00:00.004-05:00

If It Had Worked...

2011-05-12T21:00:00.001-05:00

Do You Know Abby?

2011-05-06T06:00:00.000-05:00

Because not everything we do is scripted,
we are free to choose and make decisions
that have lasting repercussions in our lives
and the lives of others....

When the Director of Planned Parenthood quit her job, even given the national climate of the job market, it shouldn't have made national news. But it was the reason that she left that caused her to switch teams. And that choice made Abby Johnson a hero for the pro-life movement and an enemy of Planned Parenthood.

Every woman in America knows someone who's had an abortion. They are our sisters, mothers, daughters friends. They're our girlfriends, our wives, aunts and cousins It is not limited to race, religion or social standing. It is a heart-rending decision not easily made, that affects all of us for the rest of our lives.

The documentary of Abby Johnson had me spell bound to the end. The statements from her parents, really affected me.

At 23, I found myself in the middle of an unplanned pregnancy. By then, Roe v Wade was a decade old and women had a right to choose. Although I chose to carry to term and relinquish the child for adoption, it was not very popular among women who thought I was a slave to convention. Through the telling of my story over the years, I met many women along the way who regretted their decisions and were pained by them years, even decades afterward.
If you want to know the truth, you want to see this documentary about Abby's life, how she arrived in Planned Parenthood and became a champion for women.You'll hear what she discovered in a clinic that caused her radical decision to quit and change sides.

If you have daughters, nieces or sisters, tell then about this upcoming free webcast. The Unite for LIFE webcast is free, featuring Abby Johnson and will benefit pregnancy care organizations. You can sign up to participate on May 17 at 8:00 p.m. (in all time zones) at http://www.uniteforlifewebcast.org/. Unplanned the book and the DVD will be available for purchase as a package deal and 33% of each purchase will go to crisis pregnancy centers like CareNet, the National Institute of Family & Life Advocates, and Heartbeat International.
If you want to be in a drawing to win a voucher for a free copy, comment below and I will draw two names. The message is so important, I will throw my copy into the drawing.

No matter where you land on this topic, I do not judge you or your choice. I believe that to make such an enormous decision, one needs to be informed of all the facts. The choice is still yours to make.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this DVD free through Tyndale publishers. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255

This is the Thing....

2011-05-05T15:35:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Rain who sent this song title to me

thinking it hit the nail on the head.

What do you think?

Canyon Road

2011-05-03T18:02:00.002-05:00

You travel along a highway, never really paying attention to all the dust and oil that you drive through or how it's affecting your car. After a period of time, you notice it needs to be washed, so you run it through a car wash. Problem solved.

But you travel the highway everyday, we all do to some extent. Invariably, you hit a few stones, chip the paint or hit a pot hole and knock the car out of alignment. You can choose to repair the paint, choose to get the car aligned.
But if you don't, the car may begin to rust prematurely and lose its nice looks. The tires will wear unevenly and will have to be replaced much sooner than if the tires had been aligned. The tires will never wear correctly until it the frame is straightened. People might think that you're not taking care of your car, or worse, taking it for granted.

You may still choose to limp along the highway, thinking that no one notices, or that you don't care. You can do it for a long time, and the condition of your car will be worse for every uncorrected blemish.

It will be a greater expense to let it go than to fix these things when they initially happen. And if you don't cope with these little inconveniences then what will you do when you hit a Canyon in the road? Go back the way you came? Take a new mode of transportation? Will you go around? Hike through it? Wait for a bridge to be built?

Or will you put the pedal to the floor, grab the steering wheel and fly, like Thelma and Louise, over the edge and hope for the best?

Myself, I'm retreating. Not abandoning the car, just turning it around to find out if there's another way to where I was traveling. Not everyone would do that, I know. You are free, like I am, to choose your path. If you don't go my way, I will not ever look over my shoulder, I don't judge.
Safe travels. But I have to ask, where are you going?

Surviving Genius

2011-04-21T09:00:00.001-05:00

You probably noticed this isn't my usual type of photo. I found it behind another photograph this week when I was weeding out my boxes of what the heck is in here anyway?

You may not know that I am genetically predisposed to enjoy music, especially strings and the reason why is the second man from the left. That's my granddad, Ray. He was pretty young in this shot, my dad was just over a year old then, if the date on the photo was accurate-1934. Back then, there were only 48 states, (checkout the star configuration on the flag) not everyone had electricity or a need. Most people didn't have radios or TV. They heated with coal or wood although cooking with propane was the newest consumer product, just gaining popularity. Right now living like that would seem like roughing it.

The prewar Gibson banjo is still in our family, I have actually touched it although I never heard Ray play music of any kind. I didn't really have the dedication to playing.

I'm told Ray was a math genius who once helped the U.S. Government solve some kind of problem. I have sometimes imagined him next to Albert Einstein while they penciled out complicated equations with letters liberally sprinkled amid numerals. There was no documentation ever found in the family to support the claim. And granddad's math genius seems to have skipped me as well.

The major accomplishment I do remember, was that Ray was a survivor. He kept food on the table working in the sporting department at Sears & Roebuck, selling fishing equipment. I never saw him fish. He set traps on his property; a few acres of land in the valley with a creek singing through it. He dug a basement himself and, little by little, he built a house with his own hands. From the basement up, he built each step, paid for as they could afford it.
It may not have started out to be much, but in the depression, it was quite an accomplishment. My dad told stories of sweeping dirt floors and walking on them to pack them down: the family lived in just a basement for years.
I never saw the house in it's early stages, just the finished version. Knotty pine walls and cedar cabinets, black wrought iron pulls on the doors.The house smelled of cedar as long as I remember.

So, when Ray was in his late sixties, the Government came back to pay a visit . They were going to be taking the valley back, turning it into a Federal Preserve.They named a sum of money that was supposed to make him moon-eyed, intending to buy him off.
Ray was crushed.
He'd lived there over 40 years, and he just didn't see himself living anywhere else but that valley. He'd built his life from the dirt up, raised two kids and buried one. He'd lived closer to the land than any of us would dare to now, and no other place was ever going to feel like home to him.

I can picture him sizing up the Government men. Maybe they shouted, and maybe it was civil. Maybe the negotiations took weeks, or months. All I really hold in my heart, was the end of the conversation, heard by eavesdropping on my dad...

"No amount of money is going to be enough to pay for a man's life's work. Ray asked, 'If I accept you offer, how long can I keep living here?' The G-Men said, they could probably give him ten years.
Ray asked if he'd get more money if he left sooner. They said yes, It turned out to be a pretty good chunk of money:half again as much.
But I said, 'Dad, do you really wanted to by looking for a new place to live at his age?' You know what he said? 'No, I'll be dead by then.'"

Ray died four years later. By then, our family lived in a house my dad had built. He hired contractors and electricians and plumbers and did a lot of the work himself. Even though we lived in it within the first year it was built, it took about five years for the house to be complete. Dad wanted to spend the most time on the kitchen cabinets. He worked on it most nights. When he finished, the kitchen was a honey colored surround of solid oak cabinetry, top and bottow, with hand made doors and antique brass pulls.The biggest kitchen I'd ever seen.

Now I want to build a little house. Carry on the tradition. After all, the construction gene is in my blood too. If necessity is the mother of invention, then desire is the sister of completion. By the time I'm in my 60's and 70's I would like to be living in a house that I helped build. Take it down a notch space-wise and up independence wise, solar lights and heat and moveable.

I may not have been blessed with my grandfather's math or music ability, but I think I got his can-do attitude, the ability to face challenges and survive them and even his sly look.

Lucky Star

2011-04-19T09:00:00.002-05:00

I have a dear friend who has for many years, called me her lucky star. I have been called a lot of things in my life, but she was the only one who ever called me that. And it always stuck in my mind that I was valuable to someone. A nice feeling.
It's the kind of thing you take out and polish when you're in your darkest hour.
The kind of words that coat you like a protective skin, make you feel a little special in the days and weeks and months when you don't feel like you even matter, or that you're invisible.

Lately my family and I feel like we are in a pretty dark place wondering what's going to happen next. And while today we still don't know, what we do know, or at least I know, is that in my darkest hours I am blessed with lots of lucky stars. They shine in dark hours, giving kind words, a meal, encouragement, a lift, and sometimes a few bucks.
They stand by you when you think no one will, pray for you when you need it most, and know just what to say so you don't give up the good fight. They believe in you when faith you had in yourself is breathing fumes. They inspire hope when you don't think there's any left.
And if you're really, really blessed, they can see down the road a little further than you can. After all, we all know that the world doesn't end at the horizon line, right?

I just wanted to take a minute to thank all of my lucky stars. You know who you are; so many... You're the best. I really couldn't have come this far with out you. No, I don't really know how this is going to end up, but, I am glad you don't seem to mind the ride.
God bless you.

What Questions Would You Ask Max?

2011-04-18T09:00:00.001-05:00

Max on Life, by Max Lucado

How great would it be to sit down with Max Lucado and ask the tough questions about life, and get his take? Initially, I thought the book would be for people new in their faith walk, or new Christians who hadn’t gotten around to translating the Bible into practical steps for daily living. But Max has a real understanding of what the word of God says and how it should be played out in our daily life. I bet a guy who’s been in ministry and written over 50 books would have a lot to say on just about any topic you throw at him:

~ “I really dread going home for the holidays…”

~ “I’d like to slow down and simplify my life…”

~ “Are the commandments in the Bible archaic?”

I found Max’s biblically based explanations easy to understand and accessible. (Notice, I didn’t say easy.) You don’t have to sit down and read through all the chapters to get nuggets of truth. You can choose from one of the 7 and read as much or as little as you like. The questions were an attention-grabbing mix from simple to complex, and his answers were thoughtful, inspired and sometimes even lighthearted. (Life isn’t all evil and darkness.)

He answers over 150 questions in this book, categorized by subject. Need Hope? Been Hurt? Need Help? He’s got answers for you. He maintains a positive spin, and it neither harsh nor condemning, which kept me reading. This book isn’t asking just the simple question, but also the hard-hitting ones:

~ “How do I forgive my son-in-law now that he’s broken my daughter’s heart?”

~ “What’s the big deal about pornography?”
~ “Does God hate homosexuals?” (Answer 100 was one of the longest in the book.)

Chances are, there’s at least one question in here you have asked aloud. I was surprised to find that I wasn’t the only one asking the question, and Max gave me new lines to think along. A fresh perspective. So if you’ve got questions, you might take a look at Max on Life.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through Booksneeze a book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255

Tangled Thinking

2011-04-16T09:00:00.000-05:00

Two Favorite Quotes

2011-04-12T10:10:00.001-05:00

When we are down to nothing,

God is up to something.

~*~

When nothing is certain,

Everything is possible.

>*<

Miracles

2011-04-12T09:00:00.000-05:00

The line in a friend's blog hit me sideways today.

"I'm a big believer in miracles."

You know, normally, I am too. I believe God can pull out all the stops and deliver a full-on mind-blowing miracle. I do. Today, I really need him to. Today I feel like the wall's been hit. The limit of my good-nature, the rolling off the back, the blind trust, the I-can-do-this-mentality has reached it's Zenith. I'm starting now to feel like the supernova having made it's grand blast of light, and now on the slow or rapid decline to black hole status. I don't know what else I can do. I just need a miracle. Just one. And God knows the one I mean.

I'm out. I need God to show up this one more time, to let himself be seen this once and most important time.

I've hit the 59th minute of my 11th hour.I need it today. He needs to show up.

He needs to take over.

By the Tail

2011-04-07T09:00:00.001-05:00

The first time someone called personal belongings "possess-me's" I started to correct them. My four room apartment was barely stocked with the essential furniture; an eclectic set of pots and pans and dishes. Two unmatched chairs, one, a directors chair found on the side of the street back in the days when I walked by Ajay's house on the way to work at "The Jaol".

I had a dresser I built with a boyfriend, a water bed and three lamps. Not enough things possessed me. I was in my early 20's aspiring to own a houseful of items to prove my worth as a grown-up. By then I'd been on my own for four years, and had managed to rise from 13 cartons of knick-knacks and clothes, to owning actual furniture. My notion of downsizing then would have been backpacking with a tent. ( I didn't own either.)

It had been my intention early on, to keep it light in case I needed to travel. Where did I think I would go? No solid plan, but I didn't want to become overly encumbered by possess-me's. When when I moved in with my roommate Lori, she filled the house. I had a bedroom full and a walk-in closet. Three carloads and one van and we were moved. I was safe to enjoy OPF (other people's furniture) without the burden of ownership.The idea of furniture felt so constraining. But I got a drawing table and chair...

But then, I met a nice guy, he had stuff. We put our stuff in storage and moved to Florida with what ever fit in a Ford EXP. After a few weeks, we find a nice place. A weird thing happens we need furniture... So we go get some. That was the shift. Owning furniture was the landslide moment. I fell under the spell of shiny new stuff and the accumulation of it. After that, we seemed to shop a lot. Creative ventures light. Paints, drawing pencils, light stuff, really.
Then I'd see something like George Carlin's routine on "Stuff".

I'd purge for a while. Give away my fat clothes, or my thin clothes, pregnancy clothes, that stuff you get at Christmas that you never use. A deviled egg plate? You know what I'm talking about. An electronic address book that seld-deletes every time you remove the batteries. Right?
There were yard sales. I shopped more than sold.

By the time I've been out in the world for two decades, my collection of furniture is monstrous. My creative ventures include drawing and painting and ceramic with all its many and enormous accoutrement's. And a kid with enough toys to stock a store at Christmas.

A divorce came and went, and relocation loomed on the horizon to a smaller place than our two bedroom farmhouse. A serious purging of furniture ensued: The buffet, the matching dining room table and chairs with grandma's needlepoint seat cushions; the lipstick red couch, table lamps, end tables, extraneous dishes, pots, pans kettles and crocks.

Even still, we puzzle-packed a 24' moving van to the rafters and loaded the cars of four people. I knew then, I had reached my limit of stuff. The possess-me's had me by the tail. It took years to pare down a little more. I met a woman who said every time she buys something, she removes something. What a concept.

When I remarried, more furniture, lamps, end tables, clothes, shoes artwork were given away. I had not mastered the art of non-accumulation. But I have struggled with this long enough. This year, I've unloaded one thing a day. I'm 92 days in, and It hasn't really made much of a dent.

Another move looms on the horizon. This one is going to take me back to the day I first moved out. When all I needed was some clothes, a few little items that made me happy and a place to rest my head. 13 boxes of stuff. Life is about to be radically different.
It's okay. We're choosing to do it. It's different than having it taken. away by flood or fire.

But I'm keeping the most important stuff.
And, I'm keeping this husband.

The Adjustment Bureau Audio Book

2011-04-05T09:00:00.001-05:00

I saw The Adjustment Bureau movie trailer only recently and really wanted to hear more. When I found the audio book, only then did I discover it was a Classic Prarnoid Story by science fiction author, Philip K. Dick. I had to get it. With an hour drive time everyday, I was hoping it would be a longer story, but found it entirely entertaining.

When this curious tale began with a Clerk talking to a dog about upcoming changes to sector T137, I wondered, where is this going? But when the dog answered him, I had to see what happened next. I down loaded the disc to my MP3 player and listened to it on my way to work.

The story takes place in the day of Ed Fletcher, a real estate agent. All appears to be typical until the sun winks out, and Ed finds himself in world made of grey ash. What happens after that, will have you pondering the subtle changes in your own surroundings for days, possibly years.

Phil Gigante’s excellent performance gave a distinctive voice, tone and cadence to each character, making it easy to follow them through the hour-long drama.

The quality of this recording by Brilliance Audio was clear with Gigante maintaining a consistent volume and no distracting background noises. (In some other audio books I’ve heard cocks crowing and children and those elements weren’t part of the story.) Gigante’s spectacular enunciation kept me tracking with the story to its surprising conclusion. If you enjoy audio books, make time for this one.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this audio book free through the Amazon Vine program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255

I Love Sugar Free Candy!

2011-04-02T09:00:00.002-05:00

Ever since I began getting headaches from regular candy, I've been searching for high-flavor sugar-free candy. So much of it seems to start out well then bite you back with a nasty aftertaste. I discovered too, that aspartame was also not good for me, so the search began for candy made with Splenda.

This package of Crystal Light Chewy Candy contained strawberry, raspberry orange and lemon. They were square like Starburst, but not quite as intense or as tart, which was a little bit of a let down. The berry flavors were tasty, as was the orange. My favorite flavor was the lemon.

I've been a fan of Sorbee hard candies because they have a great taste and texture and no bitter aftertaste, or any kind of head pain. I was thrilled to find chewy candy!

If you aren't used to eating sorbitol based candy, however, they are slightly laxative, so you should try to limit yourself to no more than six in a day. The more often you enjoy this type of confection, the less if seems to have that effect. I live with a diabetic who enjoyed the texture and taste of the chews as much as I did, and no spike in sugar numbers was definitely a plus. I would like to see a blend of tropical flavors.

I recommend this to anyone trying to watch calorie intake, sugar levels and it also has an exchange for those on Weight Watchers. I loved them and will be getting more soon!

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this product free through the Amazon Vine program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255 product

Response to Goodwin’s video on the Freedom to Fail

2011-03-30T17:23:00.002-05:00

Today I welcome guest blogger, Samantha Stover to continue in the vein started earlier this week, having the guts to be an individual and follow your dreams even if --especially if--they are different from the mainstream.
Samantha was home schooled by an artistic mother who wished that to teach her daughter how to think for herself and be true to herself by expressing honestly and freely. As a result, Samantha was inspired to write a response to Michael Goodwin's short on Freedom to Fail.

The Pursuit or the Handout?

In today’s society, failing has become such a scary idea that people remain stagnant rather than taking chances which could lead to success. They do mediocre work and expect promotions even though they haven’t done anything to deserve it. People no longer dream with ambition and actively pursue goals. If this continues in America we will lose what made this country so great, the pursuit of happiness.

When it comes to failure it seems as though people have this idea that they have one chance to succeed or fail. No more tries, chances or opportunities, just flat failure. The only people that seem to understand best that there are more chances for success are scientists. Whether it’s performing an experiment for the 20th time changing the variable again, or adding a different spice to a salad dressing, they understand success isn’t a one-time shot. Today’s youth don’t have that understanding. I even feel the fear of failure.

I recently started serving at a restaurant. For about 2 months I was so afraid I was going to do something wrong and get yelled at. I’ve never even seen my managers yell at anyone in the whole 2 years I worked there as a hostess. Yet I’m deathly afraid I’ll mess up and get fired but nothing I mess up is worth firing someone over. So I have a couple of rough nights, in the end I get better after every shift. People have forgotten that we learn from our mistakes and ultimately get better.

Some of the greatest inventors in the 1930’s and 1940’s such as Albert Einstein, Niels Bohr and Enrico Fermi knew all about success and failure. Sometimes their plans looked great on paper but didn’t pan out in the lab. That didn’t stop them from trying to get it right. People don’t remember that it takes ambition, creativity and time to make a good thing.

With today’s economy, you’re lucky if you have a job, especially if you just got out of college. I blame Mark Zuckerberg and his burgeoning success with Facebook for giving today’s young adults this misconception that they’ll be successful straight out of college. In order to be successful, you have to work for it, another thing young adults don’t seem to want to do anymore. We’ve all had to hunker down and pay our dues to get anywhere. Sometimes, you work hard and don’t get anywhere. Other times, a boss notices that you work hard and care about your job. That seems rare these days. I wish there was a way for people to learn what it is they have a passion for doing and to do it. Maybe if we weren’t all sitting in front of the tv, online shopping or playing video games we might actually be able to return to what made America so great, the pursuit of happiness.

Inspiration for Radical Change

2011-03-29T09:00:00.000-05:00

When I was in highschool, my BFF Lisa gave me a button that said,

Do Something That's Never Been Done Before.

It isn't as easy as it sounds, but it became sort of a platform for living my unconventional life. My dad fanned the flames of individuality as long as I can remember. So when I'm considering a next, possibly radical move, and I am asked, Is anyone else doing it? (Whatever it might be) I wonder what the correct response is?

Yes, so like a lemming I will follow--right over the edge of the cliff.

Or, No. So I will lead the lemmings over the cliff...

I don't have an answer. If someone else is doing it, they may have inspired me. If someone else is thinking outside the lines that doesn't make it bad, does it?

I've seen many times this mentality that wants to prevent dreamers from realizing a dream, until success is all but certain.

A change has to be conceived in thought, before it becomes an action. That car you're driving was once a dream in someone's head. So was your computer, the internet, this blog.The house you're living in, was once imaginary. We've come along way since cave dwelling and tents, haven't we? We started with what was available and moved into what could be fashioned for ourselves. The main idea: to have a place to park yourself outside of the elements, where one can feel warm and safe, and hopefully, dry.
The housing industry has been enclosing larger and larger spaces for the past two decades. And now, that bubble has found its pin.
Add to that, it's no longer hip or cool to have an enormous carbon footprint when so many are in need of resources just to stay alive, and everything we need is being priced out of reach for too many.

Even though I might be hardpressed to do something that's never been done before, going against the mainstream feels a lot like it. When I gave up my television and home schooled my daughter, some found me different and even a bit odd. When I didn't get a job after a divorce or put my child in school, I lived on Radical Faith. Not welfare or government assistance.

I'm not a mainstream thinker. I might look normal on the outside, and you would probably mistake me for being vanilla. On the inside, there's a constant waterfall of thoughts of what could be, might be, would be if only... and the degrees of motion that change the trajectory of a life. Life is so much like a chess game.

We are embarking on another unconventional adventure. The plan is to sell everything and build a tiny house. We'll be the first in our families to do something so radical by choice (except my brother Saint, who gave away all his earthly possessions for a bus ticket home) but we are off to an amazing start that promises only to gain momentum. Of course, I will keep you in the loop.

I'd love to hear from you. Let me know you're listening.

Can Your Teen Start a Micro Business?

2011-03-26T09:00:00.002-05:00

Your Teen Can Own a Micro Business

How to Launch It in Ten Simple Steps

“I want to walk dogs; what do I need to do to get started?” asked a teen boy. I had inspired him to think about starting a micro business and he was ready to get going!

I encourage teenagers to start very small businesses—micro businesses. A micro business is a one-person business that can be started easily, usually without any up-front cash, using what a teenager already owns. Micro businesses are usually home-based and very flexible so a busy student can keep up with homework, sports and a social life.

Teenagers can use their skills to develop businesses such as teaching guitar lessons, doing web design or caring for children. Other teenagers have started micro businesses by offering services such as house cleaning, pet care, and lawn mowing. One easy-to-start micro business is tutoring. Some students tutor math, Spanish or computer programs such as Photoshop.

After your teenager has an idea, he or she can launch a micro business in a short amount of time with very little start up money. Share these starting steps with your teen:

Conduct a mini market survey. Start by asking a few potential customers if they need your service and what price they are willing to pay.

Decide on a price. From the mini-market survey, you should be able to set a fair price. You may get your first customers by undercharging the competition. One teenager charged half what other piano teachers charged and quickly had eight students.

Volunteer a few jobs to practice your business skills and build a reputation. Use recommendations from these jobs in your future advertising. Sarah took senior pictures as a favor for a friend and received three other jobs from referrals.

Launch your first advertising campaign. Try to use free advertising such as emails, Facebook posts and handing out fliers to friends and neighbors.

Work your plan on a small scale. Start with one customer at first. Learn a lot from that experience and grow slowly.

Evaluate, adjust and change. As you grow in experience, you may be able to charge more. You will probably need to create a payment policy. Sarah discovered that she needed to be paid up front and have a cancellation policy when she scheduled photo shoots.

Pick a name and register it. Usually, you can use your own name, such as Cathy Smith's Babysitting Service, without needing a name registration. If you do want a business name, learn what your state or local government requires. This website is a good place to start: http://www.business.gov/register/business-name/dba.html

Open a checking account. Accountants usually recommend a separate business checking account to keep from mixing personal and business expenses. A teenager can usually get by with one checking account, if you keep good records. Usually a parent must agree to be a co-signer on a checking account for minors.

Read up on taxes. You’ll need to file your own tax return, may owe federal or state income tax, and may be subject to self-employment tax also. Self-employment tax is Social Security and Medicare taxes for self-employed people.

Learn about customer service, marketing and record keeping. Become a student of business and seek to be continually learning more. Read books, take a business class, find a mentor and ask a lot of questions.

Carol Topp, CPA advises teenage business owners through her Micro Business for Teens book series. Carol’s day job is accountant to business owners, and she enjoys teaching teenagers to succeed beyond their dreams. Students appreciate how she shares what they need to know in clear and helpful lessons. Her website is MicroBusinessForTeens.com

Personal Evolution

2011-03-24T09:00:00.001-05:00

When my dad was alive I considered him a photographer. He developed film, at one time had his own dark room and for years, he never went anywhere without his camera.

I never really understood f-stops and shutter speeds and lights. I just wanted to shoot the world the way I saw it and all the goofy photo rules always got in my way. I had an actual 35 mm. If I remembered to focus before I shot, one of the batteries in the camera, or the flash would fail. I was not in the habit of shooting up a whole roll of film, choosing holidays as a reason to take pictures. It didn't seem very cost effective to shoot up a whole roll only to find out, months later, the shot was fuzzy, out of frame or not nearly as interesting as it had seemed at the moment.

I still have 3 mystery rolls of film on my desk, and I haven't owned a manual 35 mm for over ten years.

Then digital cameras were born. If the only feature was seeing the shot so I could get the do overs right it would have been worth it's weight in gold. But it did more than that for me. I found out I like taking pictures and that all my dad's good advice about interesting shots actually landed in a retrievable part of my brain.

Occasionally I pick up a book or magazine to see what interesting tidbit I can implement. The other thing my dad instilled in me was the love of learning.

It helps keep the brain sharp to keep learning new things. I bet you have heard the old adage, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Let me tell you a story.

My brother Neil works on construction and every once in a while, they send him to a new city for a period of time. On this occasion, they sent him to live in another city to oversee a construction site and moved his family into a house there and paid all their living expenses minus food. The only catch: No pets.

I lived on a farm at the time, along a busy two-lane highway, but the house sat 100 yards off. He called and asked if I would be interested in holding on to their ten year old dog, Nikita. She was cute and looked a little like one of those Animaniacs. I agreed and he drove over with her and gave me some advice.
"Let her off her chain once a week to run and she'll come back when she's ready. She don' t listen and won't come when you call her. But she always comes back."

I let her off the chain on Sundays because she took off like a little rocket straight across the busy highway. There were less trucks traveling on Sunday mornings and I thought she just might survive the year if we did it that way. But my daughter was walking her around and Nikita got free and ran off. My daughter called and called but she didn't come back. Samantha came in the house crying and worried.
An hour later, Nikita was outfront, sniffing around by the road. I didn't feel comfortable her being there, so I filled my pocket with Fritos and went out side.
"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.
"Let's try something crazy." I started calling to the dog with all the excitement I could muster. My daughter thought I was nuts. Nikita was running full-tilt straight for us.
"When she gets here, I'm gonna spank her."
"No, we're going to give her Frito's."
"Why? She was bad!"
"Because we want her to learn to come back when we call. She will come running for Fritos. Would you come running back if you were getting a spanking everytime?"
"Ohhhhh."
Soon, Nikita was at our feet eating Fritos like she was a bandito, wagging her tail and getting petted like she was the best dog on earth. We slipped the collar back over her head and tightened it another notch and tried to lead her to her dog house. She resisted every step of the way. But this became the ritual none the less.

After a while we were able to let her off her chain, and when we'd call to her, she'd come running and walk with us to get chained up.

My brother called a few months later to see how we were all getting along. When I told him we taught her to come when called he didn't really believe us. But it taught me something about old dogs and new tricks.

I believe it's in all of us to keep learning new things. The question for me now is, what do I want to learn next?

Is It Time?

2011-03-22T09:00:00.000-05:00

I want to wrap my head around one fixed point and move forward until it blooms and bears fruit. And I want to eat of that fruit while wrapping my head around another fixed point, or concept moving forward.

At times I am stifled by limited or even wasted time. I spiral around doing one thing then another until I have several projects going and frustrated that none of them is complete.

High on my list of time wasters (that might be near and dear to you…) Facebook, Facebook chat, texting, (although I can work it into a million other things I happen to be doing) and television.

Today I'm picking on TV because the shows have a period of time they run (30 minutes to an hour) and precious few of us are not addicted to at least one of them. (Do I really have to name them?) including the news.

Aside from some well-timed information (usually after a disaster of which I was fortunate not to be a victim) TV has not contributed one thing sustainable in my life. In fact, if you must know, I also have not been a fan of fiction for pretty much the same reason. Although I now freely admit that fiction does allow a measure of escape (as does TV) that allows one to maintain a certain level of sanity in an otherwise depressing world. The key word being sustainable.

Every so often, a little thought goes traipsing through my brain (that one that wants me to amount to something) that says, “What could I be doing instead of watching TV?” Writing a check to charity, feeding the hungry, serving the blah, blah, blah. It’s easy to brush aside such notions. I even took up a form of pattern drawing while watching as a sort of measuring stick.. I work a nearly full time job, plus working on my novel, write book reviews and post a few times a week on this blog. I also want to start an online business.

Miss American Idol? I love Larry the Cable Guy. But it’s an all-new episode of NCIS! ...etc. etc.

Kay Baxter

I doubt that I've learned one valuable thing from the show except for the face that if you commit a crime (anywhere near Abby) you will be discovered. All the crime-speak is something I can’t really use in my day to day life…

It’s the other thought that comes thru louder that really gets to me. The one that makes me want to put the TV on the curb (or sell it on E-bay. Did I mention I’m trying to start an online business?)

“If I _____________ as much as I watch TV, then I would _______.”

It’s not really something you even want to begin to ponder, but if you did, it would really go something like this: If I worked out as much as I watch TV then I would probably look like Kay Baxter.”

The sentence morphs after that, into every nook and cranny of your unproductive time wasters. TV Doesn’t really help me that much. I might glean a fact or two from TV. Nothing that has so much as won me around of Trivial Pursuit. It doesn’t pay my bills or benefit me. It’s a cost. It costs me time and money and we pay for the service. It’s a double whammy of lost revenue.

Think of the many talents you wish you had: playing an instrument, learning another language, getting your real estate license or learning how to… fill in the blank.

Consider continuing education classes for example. The reason I bring it up is because education can change the course of your life.

To get a real estate license takes about 50 course hours. A professional card dealer takes about 100 hours. To become an accountant one must invest 150 semester hours. To write the average book: 292 hours (according to Askville)

In my life, I have only met one person who told me that he has done just about everything he set out to do. Are you taking advantage of all the opportunities that come your way?
Are you actively pursuing your goals?
Inevitably the time is will pass; not a single one of us has been blessed with the power to stop it. Ask yourself, with the time you have been given are you investing it or squandering it?

Where are you investing in yourself, or others?

Are you growing physically, mentally or spiritually?

Are you improving your future or the future of your loved ones with your time?

What could your life look like? What do you want your life to be like?
I challenge you to do the math on how much you watch television and come up with a life changing strategy and see what happens. Who knows, you just might become a more intentional and interesting version of yourself.

Keeping On

2011-03-15T09:00:00.002-05:00

This is the time of year when the faithful begin evaluating spiritual matters, their walk with the Lord, their purpose in life. Many may wondering if God hears their prayers and if He will answer them. They may have been praying for days or for years.

It's easy to look around and see all that isn't right with the world. It's easy to lose hope, be depressed and give in to the negative forces that so often seem to be making out better than we.

Just keep going, keep praying. Keep doing right, keep encouraging when there seems to be no change. Keep moving forward. You can do this. Never give up. Do the hard thing, do the right thing.

Why?

You will look in the mirror without shame. You give your all. You do all you can. You poured out.
You will be blessed. You will be filled.

I was recently taking with a person who I'll call Don, who was reaching out from his dim outlook on life. He could only see his current circumstances and was about to give up. He had already begun spouting negatives like who cares? and why bother? He was threatening to take his life, not in an I have a gun in my hand way, but clearly his hope of a better life was fading faster than your favorite blue jeans in a bleach bath.

I shared with him a particularly dark time in my life, in my 20's. I found myself in in a bad relationship and pregnant. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with this miserable person. I felt myself withering at the very thought of staying. In my heart, I was giving up, doing what was expected of me.

We could have gotten married, and stayed together. For days the thoughts of my future rolled through my mind like a hopeless tragedy. One misery after another. I would blame him and make him pay for it forever. I imagined staring out of windows into gray skies, wondering what could have been if only...
I literally felt like the lights were going out on my life.

The thought occurred to me to leave. What held me back was how. But the more I considered it, the stronger I felt, the more hope I had, the more invigorated I became. One morning, I walked out of the house.
My life changed that day. I changed.

"Don, what do you think my life would have looked like if I hadn't found the strength to leave?"

It hit him hard, I think. He was quiet for a while. He'd known me then, but he didn't know the story.

"But I don't matter to anyone." The words landed on the floor between us. I think we both knew they weren't quite true. He wanted to remain a victim and be rescued.

Empowerment doesn't work that way.

"You used to believe in Jesus," I said.

"I used to believe a lot of things."

"You have to matter to yourself. You have to find the strength to start making changes," I said. I was a little worried he was going deeper into the dark. God, you know what you have for Don, the life you've planned, the blessings you hold tailor made for him. Pull him out of this pit. Strengthen him. Show up there with him.

Finally Don said,

"I won't take the pansy way out."

One of Those Weeks

2011-03-10T09:00:00.001-06:00

Have you ever had one of those weeks? It starts on Monday when you find yourself running behind. Then the computers at work need to be restarted and tweaked before you can even begin your own work, which you needed to begin precisely at 8:00 and now it's 9. You weren't ready for any customers or calls but they started in during your computer re-start.
The next day the weather takes a turn for the worse, as well as that sound in your muffler that you keep saying doesn't really need replaced just yet, or can wait until after your tax refund.
Tax refund? You hope.

You finish a work errand early, kidneys screaming to be relieved and a man inside is cleaning the women's restroom. He is mentally challenged and possibly suffering with Asperger's and must do everything in a certain order and you are not getting in before he finishes. You wait ten minutes thinking of all the other places that have bathrooms, including the men's at this location (which is occupied by another slow moving, humorless man) until he says,
"You may use the restroom now."

Another day, again running late, you have to pass a private snowplow on the right side. He's slinging slush and dirt and stones and holding up traffic. You know you will pass them all, and you know your car is going to look like crap, especially if you drive very far and it refreezes. After you race past them in a horrid wave of brown-ice you stand in a semi- obscure area of the parking lot of your favorite coffee joint sweeping the road-sludge off your car with a snow brush, telling yourself that inside, hot coffee awaits, and you will treat yourself to a spinach artichoke souffle.

You get inside and see all the souffles are gone. You drive next door to Starbucks, where your silver lining is a Feta and spinach wrap are less than half the calories, the latte is perfect and you have a gift card. (Thank you Bob and Barb!)

The silver lining is nearly forgotten when the weather takes a turn toward ice and the counselor wants to know if you are meeting after work. Even though you know it's a bad idea, you have no peace, you agree to meet at 5 and ditch work a little early, trying not to end up in one.

During your meeting, the power fails. You continue in the dark until the facilites manager requires everyone to leave.
The parking lot is literally coated with ice. After escaping one near accident and being stranded on a trackless patch of road you make it home in twice the regular time. You don't care. You are safe, dry warm and home.
At 11 pm your power failes. The power company can't say when it will restore you, it could be days.
Wednesday you call off work, still skittish from the night before.

You are content to stay home, snow and ice bound until lunch time. You are wondering what to do.
Relationships are difficult lately, so much feels so tenuous.
You spend much of the day camping indoors, with a backback stove, and a fire in the rarely used but effective fireplace.

Thursday, your MP3 blows it's left stereo output. You are down to one pair of headphones that you like.
A customer screams at you over the phone regarding their account. By 5 o'clock you wonder why are you bothering with any of this?
No calming incense, no music. You feel as if your life is unwinding. You've tried everything you can think of to relax. It seems it's all going south. You shop for a new MP3 player online and find one that suits you. Even though you haven't bought it yet, just knowing it's out there is the bright spot in your day.
Friday, you get cut off in traffic. Your usual haunts are out of headphones, but you manage to find 2 pairs of them at a better price than usual. at the grocery store.

You buy a bottle of wine to share with your husband, even though he isn't into wine.
You plan to buy incense and a new MP3 player. Your husband agrees to drive you there.

You survive Friday, rush hour and parking your car in your buried under six inches of snow/ice mix driveway. The week felt a month long.

When you walk in the door, there they are.

A bouquet of flowers. Red tulips. And right then and there, your hope is restored. You probably can make it another day, maybe even another week, as long as it wasn't like this one. And your beloved smiles at you. Hugs you.

Are you having one of those weeks? I pray your hope will be restored.

Black, White and Red All Over

2011-03-08T09:00:00.033-06:00

It's been close to a year without my red starbucks mug (see My Red Mug: A Sad Morning Tale). I have scoped the shelves of every Starbucks I walked into, and saw green ones once, and pink ones on several occasions (I am not a pink person) I started to give up on the whole idea of finding a red mug I could live with.

Then I walked in one day last week and saw this one. No handle, no tricky top, no pressure seal to wear out. It lets you know when the contents are hot, the lettering is heat sensitive and turns white and the word...the word REDISCOVER seemed to call to the adventurer in me. Very appealing.

This one sat on the shelf calling to me like a red siren, and I could have blown it off. I stepped over to the display and picked it up. Good weight, smooth, shiny and red. Under ten bucks? I felt like Eve plucking the forbidden fruit...
Because it was on clearance, I had enough money on my Starbucks gift card to get it and break it in with a steamy hot helping of Pikes Place.
The final selling point.
I'm in.

For me, rediscover is one of those words that ignites in my mind like throwing gasoline on a camp fire.
Rediscover what?

It's almost like a clean slate with bonuses. Shining up something you already have to appreciate it again.
It's like remembering all those things that attracted you to your spouse. Even though you may have been married 8, 12 or 23 years, you can always find something new in them, something to rediscover in them if you look. Rediscover is like getting into your music cabinet and finding Dylan and listening to it on your MP3 Player.

I've recently been inspired by a friend, Lori R. ( of the blogs Colla Voce & More) A short time ago she began gathering her tribe. I warediscovered that I could also do the same thing. I've been listening to Seth Godin books for months, and just never pulled it all together. When I read her reasons for doing so, I thought, "Hey, those are some of my reasons too."

So with Rediscover as my new word of the year, I think it's time for me to gather my crew.

And I wonder, along with my newfound crew of encouragers, what else I will Rediscover?
This could be the year of the agent, or the book publishing deal.
This could be the year I finally get a story published in the sun. This could be the year, I break out of my cement egg and become the Iron Phoenix.
Want to come along for the ride?

Lip Service

2011-03-03T19:13:00.000-06:00

What is a kiss worth? Have you ever seen those kissing booths where a pretty girl sells kisses? They might range anywhere from 25 cents to two dollars, depending on the cause. Maybe you've even seen them go for much more...
Over the weekend, a provocative ad arrived in my email. No coupon required, no loyalty card, just something you will be carrrying around with you anyway--two lips. But your lips were going to be required to perform a function not usually requested when you order you everning feast. They had to kiss someone in line with you.

For that simple pleasure my husband and I were rewarded with a second meal free. You don't pay them to kiss, they pay you, in food to kiss someone you've probably kissed many times before. How nice is that?

And that's not all.

For the duration of our dinner, we were entertained by watching to see if other couples were in the know about this ad.
The man behind the counter even gave the inside scoop. He patiently explained to couples that if they kissed, one of their dinners were on the house. Some thought it was a trick, but they all kissed. Every time they did, he smiled, and so did we.
It was a great experience eating in a place where you could literally feel the love.

International Incident

2011-02-25T09:00:00.002-06:00

One thing I've missed about working in a big office is the potluck Fridays.At the time we had several global representatives with the most amazing food offerings.

I have always loved international food more than the Midwestern fare mom used to cook. She might think me a bit of a traitor after all she and my dad went through to make sure there was meat on the table. I think it fueled my leaning toward vegetarianism.

Her idea of Chinese was pepper steak over minute rice. The Italian food we were served consisted of spaghetti. sometimes with meatballs and occasionally pizza. Like a seed waiting to be watered, I lay in wait for my first real taste of Mexican food. It began a love affair with jalapenos and heat bearing peppers.

On several occasions, she expressed her shock at how much I loved intensely flavored, spicy Mexican food.
"How can you eat it? I never made it for you kids," she asked.
"Maybe it's because you didn't."

We lived next door to Italians who loved to cook. My mother, bless her heart, did not. Spaghetti and meatballs was the limit of her desire to find out.
When I dated a young Italian man, my eyes were opened to the world of wonderful Italian deliciousness: Eggplant Parmesan, Lasagna, Manicotti., Linguine... Garlic sauce, clam sauce and the subtle differences in red sauces. Did I mention Pesto?

I didn't continue dating internationally to discover the wonders of different cuisines. I worked in various ethnic restaurants, (Asian, Middle Eastern and Itaian) and then just befriended interesting peoplewhere we lived and invited them over for dinner. And as an adult, I moved a lot.

In the South I ate scrumptious seafood, where Robin and Brian educated me about shrimp and crawdad boil. I became enamored by Cajun cuisine. My friend Karyl from New Mexico contributed to my love of Tex Mex and Southwestern fare. I met Asela who was born in Cuba and taught me about Plantains. Supna from India and introduced me to pickled lime chutney.

I collected recipes from them and still cook them to this day. I am always reminded of Tim when I make Chicken Dijon, a signature dish I made for out of town guests because he said it was impressive. In 20 years it never once failed me.

In winter I make Karyl's Green Chili Stew. She gave me the recipe when we lived in Florida and made it for me (with venison) when I visited her in New Mexico.

This week, I promised the bosses I'd come in on a Saturday to help out my hispanic co-worker. We were the only two working.
He's a young family man who craves lasagne.
"Interesting," I say. "I love Mexican food." We agree to a potluck, I make lasagne and he brings his wife's tamales. It was truly heavenly. I was full at two but they were so delicious I ate three. He ate the whole 5x8 pan of lasagne. I was flattered.
It is my personal long held belief that there would be fewer International Incidents if we shared more potlucks together. I can see that I'm going to have to befriend this young couple. She's going to want this recipe.