Tuesday, June 29, 2010

I was happy today to awake and be able to have several cups of coffee without being interrupted with unpleasant things such as removing carcasses from our swimming pool. And things progressed on a positive note all day until my oldest daughter, who has been serving as a juror, arrived and flopped herself in my office chair as I sat at the desk. Knowing that she can’t discuss the case, but concerned that something about it might have her troubled, I inquired, “How’s jury duty going?”

She said it was fine but then told me that she was upset due to news about an incident that occurred a mile from our house. At the time of sharing with me, she didn’t have, nor had all the facts been released. But what she did know I found disturbing.

A body, burned beyond recognition, had been discovered in the wee hours of the morning when a small brush fire alongside the freeway had been extinguished by the local fire department. As bits and pieces of the mystery fell into place, we learned that the body had been so badly burned, that officials couldn’t originally identify if it was male or female.

Good lord!

Later on, it was released that the body was that of a twenty-year-old female.

That struck a chord with my twenty-one-year old daughter.

Officials suspect that the death might be a drug-related murder.

Holy crap!

And the most disturbing news was that the brush fire had been so minor as to have not caused the disfiguring burns to the body.

Don’t even want to think about those implications.

And then, just as we were trying to come to terms with that, my daughter discovered that a traffic pursuit, involving a stolen car, had just taken place, again, a mile from our home. That ended with the chased car running a red light and being hit by a delivery truck. The driver of the vehicle fled the scene on foot and was subsequently caught. Once under detainment, it was learned that he was a sought-after fugitive.

Dandy!

And all this is happing a mile from my house in my sleepy little bedroom community that is supposed to be safe.

What the hell’s in the air?

Just before leaving my writing critique meeting this evening, I received a text from my oldest daughter, begging me to please come home—soon. That she didn’t want to be at the house alone any longer what with all that had been happening. I immediately dialed her phone. I told her I was already in route and would be home in less than ten minutes. Hearing my voice, she relaxed, and I continued to stay on the phone with her until I pulled in the driveway.

Since I’ve been home from my critique meeting, I’ve spent needed time with my oldest daughter and youngest son in an attempt to build them up from today’s troubling events. We’ve baked cookies and hung out together. That’s helped to wash away the icky remnants of all that’s happened.

Hopefully, if I’ve done my job correctly, my oldest daughter will head to jury duty tomorrow able to focus on that task, and my youngest son won’t be freaked out. How does this affect me, here alone with the kids while my husband’s in Europe? Well, I’ll do what I always do—carry on with a smile and a determination to make things easier for my children.

Monday, June 28, 2010

I awoke Sunday and while making my trek to the coffee pot, I encountered my youngest son who greeted me with, “We have a giant dead rat in the pool!”

Well, alrighty, then. I love you, too, son.

I squinted my eyes in an attempt to better process what that meant—for me. Unfortunately, the cogs to my brain clicked into place and reminded me that my husband, the official remover of dead things in our pool, is out of the country, the pool man won’t be here until the end of the week, it’s hot and we’re gonna want to use the pool before the pool man comes.

Damn!

Then it dawned on me. My youngest son, the barer of such fine news, was sitting at the computer. He wasn’t wearing swim trunks and didn’t seem to have been out by the pool yet. So that got me to thinking, and I asked, “Where’s your older sister,” thinking it was her that had discovered the offensive rodent in our pool.

Sure enough, my son said, “Oh, she was gonna go swimming with her boyfriend, but then they discovered the rat, so they went to his house to swim instead.”

What? Wait a minute. Why the hell didn’t they remove the rat?

I asked my son that very question, and he said, “Couldn’t find the net.”

Of course they couldn’t. Ugh!

With that bit of information, I continued my trek to the kitchen, hoping that a nice mug of coffee might make it easier for me to digest the concept that I was going to have to remove the dead rat. Of course, Murphy’s Law kicked into high gear, and I realized, much to my dismay, that my husband had used the very last of the coffee the day before and we were now officially coffee-less. Well, I was coffee-less. He was enjoying coffee in first class on his way to Europe.

Hmmm…. Things aren’t looking so good.

Not wanting to, but deciding I might as well get it over with, I begrudgingly went out to take a look at the dead rodent. Now, I’m not a huge fan of rats. They are a nuisance, nasty and generally distasteful. But I have to admit, as rats go, this one wasn’t half bad looking. It was black with a white underbelly.

Wasn’t aware that wild rats came in mixed color combinations.

If it wasn’t for the fact that it was dead and permanently frozen in some grotesque claws outstretched pose with its ears perked forward and whiskers sticking straight out, it might have been considered…cute…but just barely.

God! What am I saying? It’s a rat. And a dead one at that!

So there I was, no caffeine coursing through my veins, staring at a dead rat that had drowned and sunk to the bottom of the pool.

Great! Just great! And my daughter and her boyfriend are swimming in his non-rat-infested pool. Hmmm….

It was then that I made an executive decision—I would ignore said rat and go get coffee.

Perhaps I’ll see things in a more positive light once I’m caffeinated.

After getting my coffee, I returned home in a good mood and decided to continue to ignore the rat in my pool.

Not like it’s going anywhere, and there’s no sense ruining my sunny disposition by having to gag my way through removing its carcass.

I worked the remainder of the day and found myself at the house of my daughter’s boyfriend later that night. (His parents and we are friends.) I shared my rat situation with her, and how I wasn’t looking forward to having to use the pool net to get it out, since I knew, from past experiences, that its tiny claws would get stuck in the net, making it virtually impossible to shake it out of the net without having to get my hands near it.

Super ewwww!!!

My girlfriend smiled and said, “Oh, no bother. Just give it time. As soon as the gases kick in, the rat will float to the surface and be much easier to remove.”

Hey, there’s a great idea! So, I’ll wait. Then I can use a shovel and avoid the whole claws-getting-stuck ordeal.

And that’s what I did.

Today, I went out to check the status of the rat and was a little surprised to not see it. Searching the whole pool, I found it just as it was about to get sucked into our skimmer.

Ew! Can’t let that happen, then I’ll never be able to get it out without having to…gross…touch it! Good lord, can’t let that happen!

Looking around, I found a nearby fallen big stick and used it to…yuck…push the rat away from the skimmer. That gave me enough time to run to the garage and fetch a long-handled shovel with which I removed said icky rat.

Of course, it being a rat, it didn’t want to go peacefully. Every time I scooped it up on the shovel and then tried to lift it out of the pool, the rat would flop off the shovel and back into the water.

Dandy!

Then I’d have to use the end of the shovel to pull the rat closer to me, only to repeat the whole frustrating process again. (This, by the way, was before I’d had any coffee this morning.)

This is sooooo not the way to start one’s day!

Well, determined to outdo the rat, and driven by the desire to have a cup of coffee (or a few), I finally managed to get the damned rat out of the pool and dumped it into the trash with a satisfying thud.

Here’s hoping the rest of my week doesn’t involve finding any more dead things on our property.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

I just recently lost a sweet friend to a sudden heart attack. In recent days, those of us who knew him have been recalling how fun he was. How unique. How full of vibrancy. Life. Enthusiasm. And a wicked sense of humor.

He was born and raised in Ireland, stood perhaps five feet tall and epitomized the perfect gentleman in manner and dress. One friend wrote that it was as if he was from a different time. She couldn’t have been more accurate with her assessment. To meet him, was what I imagine it would be like to see an actual leprechaun come to life. And I mean that in the most complementary way. He was genuinely kind, sincere and jovial. I can’t ever recall a time when I didn’t see him smiling, laughing or both.

A large gathering of us made it a point to converge several times a year. My friend most often went in with others and shared a hotel room. Now there are differing opinions as to why he did this. Some think it was to help offset the cost of the room. But those of us who knew him well, were aware of his true motives.

In short, my friend was a trickster. I don’t think there was anything he liked better than playing jokes on someone, unless it was to see them break into laughter when they realized he’d “gotten” them. If you were one of the ones who shared a hotel room with him, you would be rewarded by having a condom fitted over the shower nozzle so that when you went to turn on the shower, water hesitated and then exploded all over the place. And just in case he didn’t think you might be taking a shower any time soon, he had another way to get to you—wrapping the top of the toilet bowl with plastic wrap. Lord, what a mess that made. And just in case you managed to somehow avoid those traps, he’d be sure to short sheet your bed, just to keep the fun going until the very end.

Was my friend a ten-year-old? No. Far from it. He was my senior by perhaps ten years, but never gave up being in touch with his inner child. He didn’t possess a malicious bone in his body, just an undying appetite to make folks happy. And he adored being the brunt of jokes as much as he liked playing them on others.

Fun. Enthusiastic. Charming. Gracious. Dignified. Those are the words that describe my friend. He maintained that persona until the very end. I have no doubt that when he died he held a smile in his heart and wore a grin upon his cherub face, probably thinking of the next prank he could pull.

The world needs more like my friend. He made it a better place and was a shining example of what we should all strive to do—live each and every moment to the fullest.

Friday, June 26, 2010

I had the opportunity to support one of my writer friends this evening. And for that, I was grateful.

When he joined our weekly writing critique group a number of months back, he introduced himself as a poet and said that was all he could write. When the facilitator to our group mentioned that we were not qualified to critique poetry—an entirely different stylization of critique—he dug his heels in and decided to try his hand at writing short stories for young children. And…not only is he a published poet worldwide, but he’s now proven himself to be an accomplished writer of children’s short stories as well. But I digress.

Tonight, I, along with other members of our critique group, friends, family and passer-bys were treated to the inaugural poetry reading/open mic night at the same bookstore where our critique group meets. Initially, my friend had been concerned that he’d be reading to an audience of empty chairs, but he was proven wrong when not a single chair remained unoccupied, including all the ones in the lounge and café.

He did a brilliant job of reading a wide selection of his poems, and when he turned over the mic, others, including a fourth-grade young lady, read poems they’d written. Now, this may not seem news worthy, but it is. Poetry has always gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to writing, yet what tonight proved is that there is a desire for poets to not only share their work but also for them to listen to and support others whose passion mirrors their own.

Let us not forget that in the heart of almost every writer dwells an unrecognized poet.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

A couple of days ago I wrote about how we forgive and move on. When we’re able to successfully do so, we open ourselves to the possibility of a life unfettered by past transgressions and woes that weigh us down and sap us of valuable energy. Along that train of thought, through our willingness to release the past, we reclaim our power.

Not a one of us makes it through life without encountering hardships, mishaps and situations that test our limits. It’s not the act of us enduring those things that make some of us stand out. It’s the manner in which we choose to handle ourselves that makes the difference.

Through all our dealings, we should strive to conduct ourselves with dignity, grace and offer respect to those around us. Of course, this isn’t to say that when we find ourselves drowning in devastating events that we won’t flail, kvetch and possible lash out. We’re human, and with that we need to accept our fallibilities just as we need to demonstrate empathy towards those who flail, kvetch and lash out towards us due to their pain and suffering.

Patience, understanding and compassion are what are called for during times like these. If we are the one who have done the lashing out, then we need to allow ourselves the latitude to feel our pain and, after, make amends with those who may have been the unwitting recipients of our less than graceful behavior.

If we are the ones who have been the unwitting recipients of less than graceful behavior, then we need to recognize that the bestower, due to what they may be enduring, aren’t thinking or acting as they normally would, their emotions having been short-circuited by their ordeal. This is when we need to exact complete compassion and be willing to turn a blind eye to their undignified behavior…at least at the time.

By demonstrating compassion, understanding and empathy instead of taking things personally, we prohibit the harboring of hard feelings—those things that have a nasty way of undermining relationships and cause us to expend mass amounts of wasted energy.

So what does all this mean? In short, if you’re going through a hard time, allow yourself to do just that, experience and feel it, even if that makes you lose all sense of dignity and grace. We’re human, fallible and perfectly capable of asking for forgiveness when the dust settles. And if we see someone being forced to endure an extreme hardship that taxes their limits, don’t add to their burden by taking their emotional outbursts personally. In stead, show compassion.

It is when we grow and evolve to the point where we can release past occurrences without harboring ill will that we reclaim our power.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

You’ve all been so very patient, and for that I thank you. Here’s the news many of you have been waiting for. Dark Awakenings, my second book in the Little Girl Lost Trilogy, is now available in book form through www.Amazon.com and also through www.BarnesandNoble.com.

Woot! Woot!

As soon as other forms of the book become available, I will post that information. In addition, when other distributors make the book available, I’ll post that information as well.

Happy reading and I hope you enjoy it!!!

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

My youngest daughter made a post today that asked how we forgive. That got me thinking about how some are able to forgive, while others seem perpetually stuck in harboring ill will over past occurrences.

Where do I fall? Somewhere in the middle. When I was younger, I fell into the latter category, storing up animosity towards past events like a squirrel preparing for a long winter. But thankfully, with age came wisdom that enlightened me to a better way of living.

Growing up, I was made to endure a lot of hardships that fostered a hard shell of resentment that I wore like a protective cloak. Or at least I thought it could protect me. In reality, I discovered that instead of shielding me, it weighed me down and kept me from living and enlightened life.

I’d always questioned the philosophy that one should forgive and forget. And I still do, to a point. I agree that people should forgive. But forget? No way! And here’s why. I don't think we're meant to completely forget. For if we do, then we have no measure by which to avoid stumbling into past pitfalls.

As I’ve grown, evolved and hopefully bettered myself, I’ve come to realize that to truly move on, we must view our past, embrace what good we can glean from it, mourn the less-than-favorable moments and then completely release any guilt or misgivings we may have about it.

In my opinion, that is how we forgive.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

I experienced a first this evening. I had to be physically rescued from a dangerous situation. Not that I haven’t found myself in plenty of dicy situations—I have. But I’ve never had to actually be rescued from any of those…until tonight.

It was growing dark out, and I finally had the chance to go for the walk I’d been wanting to take all day. But since it was night, I had to think on which of my many routes would be the safest. Deciding on one, I headed out, wearing light-colored clothing and carrying a flashlight.

I made it about a quarter of a mile before something, large and lurking in the shadows, caught my attention up ahead and off to my left. I shown my flashlight in that direction, but what I saw was just beyond where my full beam of light would reach. Gauging from the length of its legs, I wondered if it might be a deer, though thought that would be odd, what with it being night.

I continued towards the being, keeping my flashlight aimed on it. All at once, I realized what I was seeing—a ginormous stray dog that made most Great Danes look small!

Holy crap!

Getting closer, I realized that I’d seen the dog out and about on a few of my other walks and runs. The dog had always seemed friendly enough though a little standoffish. Tonight, however, there was something distinctly different about the dog’s temperament. Not sure if it was due to it being dark out or the fact that the dog’s left front foot was bandaged, but the dog was not in a friendly mood. In fact, when I came even with it, it lowered its head, looked at me with its eyes rolled up and every muscle in its body was frozen and tensed.

Ah, shit! It’s gonna attack.

Did I mention the size of this dog? Its legs were long enough that I had no doubt it could make it across to my side of the road in less time than it would take for me to scream.

Just then, it decided it didn’t like me and began walking towards me, head still lowered and growling.

Great, just great! I’m gonna be an appetizer for a dinosaur-sized dog whose so big he probably won’t even get indigestion after devouring me.

I looked around and realized I was completely on my own. Though there were houses right by us, they were set too far back from the road for anyone to have heard me cry for help. I decided to put my old dog-training skills to use by making myself appear taller and telling the dog, “No! Leave it!” in a commanding voice.

The dog responded as I’d hoped and stopped. Tilting his head, he grumbled his displeasure in the form of a low growl/whine and then turned and headed away from me.

Excellent!

The dog stopped about ten feet away from where it had been and turned to face me. But he didn’t approach again, so I decided to continue on my way, hoping that he’d be gone by the time I had to loop back the same way.

I walked perhaps thirty to forty feet before I got an uncomfortable feeling. Turning, I just caught sight of the dog break into a run straight at me.

Crap! Crap! Crap!

I knew if I turned and ran, he’d consider it a game and run me down. So, instead, I turned to face him as he barreled down on me. The distance between us closed to an uncomfortable twenty-five feet or so and I yelled, “No! Leave it!” in as forceful a voice as I could conjure.

To my surprise, the dog stopped charging, cocked his head and then slowly resumed walking towards me. It was then that I cursed myself for not bringing my knife or some other form of self-protection. But then I remembered how I was walking in my very own neighborhood on the “safe” route and hadn’t thought them necessary.

Considering my options, I remembered that I always carry my cell phone with me. I pulled it out and dialed home. My oldest daughter picked up, and I quickly explained what was happening, while keeping my flashlight trained on the dog, still approaching me, and backing away from it in an attempt to maintain some distance between us. I heard my daughter call to her younger brother to hurry and come with her, that I needed their help. To me, she said, “We’ll be right there,” before hanging up.

She hung up? She actually hung up? WTF?

I would have preferred that she remain on the line, but she hadn’t, and I realized that I was once again alone with the attacking dog. By this time, the dog had taken to slinking in the shadows to try to sneak up on me. But I was wise to him and kept backing away with my flashlight beam illuminating his every move.

He got frustrated with my flashing the light on him, growled louder and then began to run towards me again. By now, my anxiety level was through the roof, and I hoped for something—anything—to intervene and save me. In answer, a car rounded the corner, it’s high beams temporarily startling the dog, causing him to freeze. The car continued past and behind it, I spotted another set of headlights. Those caused the dog to turn away from me and head down the nearest driveway. I kept my flashlight trained on where I’d last seen him, but was unable to discern where he was, as my beam didn’t reach that far, and hell if I was going towards the dog.

The second car slowed as it approached, and with great relief, I realized that it was my daughter and son. I jumped in the car, and we headed home. Both kids asked if I was okay. When I assured them that I was, my oldest daughter said, “See, aren’t you glad I didn’t come with you on the walk? Otherwise we both would have been stuck with no one to come and get us.”

I had to admit that for once, I was beyond grateful that she’d turned down my offer to join me, instead opting to stay home and do her laundry.

Let’s hear it for cell phones and kids who pick up the phone and come to my rescue.

Hip, hip hooray!!!

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Time spent driving to and from Arizona this weekend—14 hours. Actual time spent in Arizona—20 hours.

Ugh!

On our drive back today, my family and I unanimously voted that was way too much time spent driving with not nearly enough time at our destination.

On the drive there, we chatted, texted and switched cars we drove in so as to entertain one another. The minute we arrived in Arizona, we spent the next hour and a half unloading the moving truck and two vehicles before heading to dinner at 9:30 PM—all of us starving and completely dehydrated. This morning found us purchasing the last of the necessities before unpacking the majority of everything and setting things up.

Whew!

And the minute we finished, we climbed back in our car and began the arduous drive back. On our way home, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of everyone cocooned in their own worlds, wearing headphones, texting, checking emails via their I-Phones and generally using the drive time to decompress from the many hours of being cooped up in cars this weekend.

I had to laugh again when we stopped a mile from our house to pick up some milk. My husband planned to run in solo, but my oldest daughter bolted out of the car on his heels. In near desperation, she said, “I’ll come with you! I need to move my legs!”

Ah…the joys of travel….

Yup, driving fourteen hours to only have twenty hours at our destination was no fun. We’ve decided we could use another day to recover. But, knowing us, we’ll all be up and going again early tomorrow morning.

Lord help us! How many more days before we can rest?

Saturday, June 20, 2010

My family and I headed to Arizona today, traveling as a caravan. My husband and youngest daughter lead the way, driving a small mini van we’d rented. I followed in my small SUV. And behind me, my oldest daughter drove her car with her youngest brother, riding shotgun. Both our cars were loaded with stuff to be moved.

As always, this is a drive we dread—long, boring scenery, hot and dusty, no matter that the windows are up and the air is recirculating. But each time we journey this trek, although we moan and groan beforehand, once we’re on our way, we manage to make it a fun trip. Today was no exception.

And when my youngest son transferred to ride shotgun with me at the halfway point, that’s what we discussed—how there are times in life when we must do things that aren’t our first choice, but if we set about doing those tasks with a positive attitude, things tend to go better for everyone.

Before long, that threw us onto a tangent where our conversation twisted into one about family and how family should always stand by family. How, regardless that members may squabble, when it comes down to it, family supports its own. Period! No questions! Without hesitation!

I found myself impressed with how in tune with this philosophy my youngest son is.

My husband came from a family that embraced this mentality, while I came from something quite the opposite. Growing up, I was surrounded by a myriad of divorces, ill tempers, distrust and a host of other less-than-favorable conditions. And as far back as I can recall, I dreamt of creating a family unit that was strong, devoted to one another and would fiercely defend one another, no matter what our differences might be at the time.

When my husband and I decided to start our family, we had many discussions regarding family solidarity during which I expressed how above anything else, that was my number one priority. Through the neat three decades my husband and I have been together, I’ve never waivered from that objective, my husband supporting me every step of the way.

Driving with my youngest son today, I was treated to one of those amazing parenting moments. You know the kind, when your child does or says something that makes you realize they’ve not only listened to your teachings, but have adopted them as their own life philosophies. Yup, that’s what happened during my son’s and my tangent conversation when he stressed that family should always support family—no matter what.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Based on a comment made, Tuesday, by one of the women in my weekly critique group, I became driven to devour information about Indigo and Crystal children/adults. What I have discovered is fascinating, enlightening and saddening.

Indigo individuals have been recorded as being present for the past 100 years, while Crystals have only appeared since the year 2000, although some have shown up prior to that.

In short, what defines an individual as Indigo or Crystal? They are a collection of individuals who function, relate and understand things on a higher plane than the general population. They do not fit into the tidy categories modern science uses to label people. As such, they are often misdiagnosed as ADD, ADHD, Autistic, etc. when nothing could be further from the truth.

To ad insult to injury, as a means to “control” Indigos and Crystals, the medical profession often medicates or sedates them in an attempt to force conformity to the norms of society’s thinking. God, what a travesty! By inebriating that which makes the Indigo and Crystal unique, officials effectively amputate their high-level sensitivity, spiritual gifts and warrior energies.

In my opinion, this represents society’s shallow-minded thinking that makes them fearful of anything they can’t explain, understand or control. What a waste! Instead of exerting tremendous amounts of energy trying to conform others to the status quo, so much more could be learned if there was openness to learning about higher thinking. You know, thinking outside the box.

If you’d like to learn more about Indigo and Crystal children/adults, please go to www.starchild.co.za/what/html or Google “Indigo and Crystal Children/Adults.” You may be surprised by what you discover.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

There are times when patience and distance are the best tools to mend an ailing relationship. The personalities of those involved will determine which approach works best.

For some, hashing out a problem right then and there until it is resolved is the best method for fixing things. But there are those who need to take a time out from the situation in order to collect their thoughts and cool down before they are able to effectively solve a problem. For these, patience is required. Patience to give them time, so as not to have the problem escalate into something bigger than it already is.

And for some, the need to fix a problem as soon as it presents itself can override their understanding that not everyone processes things the same as they do or as quickly or in as cool and collected a mindset—at least not at first. Some people need to distance themselves from a stressful situation in order that they might be able to objectively view it to find a solution. Someone hounding them as to what’s wrong or how they should go about fixing the problem serves no purpose other than to infuriate them.

Having the foresight to understand whom you are dealing with when approaching a volatile situation can go a long ways towards helping to expedite reconciliation. And when in doubt, exact patience and create a little distance, at least until things cool down a bit.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Well, it’s official. I’m up and running on Facebook. Having never been on before I set up my own account, it did take a little exploring to become familiar with it. And thanks to the help of my youngest daughter, who’s patient as can be with me, I now feel comfortable navigating my way around Facebook.

Many have wanted me on Facebook. Others have searched for me there, only to be disappointed. But no more, I’ve now joined the ranks of millions of others who have discovered that Facebook is a great way to stay connected.

And now that I’m on, I find myself wondering why I procrastinated for so long. I know. I know. Plenty of you are shaking your heads, thinking, way to go with finally getting onboard a system that’s been around since early 2000. And you’re right. It did take me way too long to join. But now that I’m on, I see just how efficient Facebook makes staying in tough and notifying folks of things important to you.

I hope that folks find that my being on Facebook makes it easier for them to keep up with what I’m doing. Heavens knows I, myself, find it a challenge to do so at times—running in various directions. Perhaps I’ll be better able to keep track of my own doings with Facebook.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Okay, I’ll admit it. I can be a bit slow in embracing technology. Take, for example, my reluctance to create a Facebook account for myself. Well, after in inordinate amount of time procrastinating and conjuring up every plausible reason why I didn’t need one, my friends and family have not only shown me the error of my thinking, but have inspired me to create a Facebook account.

So now, if you look me up on Facebook, I’m there!

I’ll be working with my youngest daughter this week, as time permits, to finish my profile and to learn my own way around Facebook. Should you care to look me up, please keep checking back as we’ll be adding new items to my pages.

Saturday, June 13, 2010

There are times when one has to step out of their own way and let things play out as they’re meant. So often people think they know what’s best for them. Or that they can force their will on a situation to alter the outcome.

Many times, folks don’t know what’s ultimately best for them. Instead, what they try to exact is what they would like to have happen not what should. But…if they’re willing to allow fate to deal the cards, then they may be surprised with the outcome.

Oh, sure, there may be challenges. But surviving those makes a person stronger. There may be unpleasant things one must endure. But doing so teaches one tolerance, patience and steadfastness.

In the end, a person stands to gain far more knowledge and understanding if they rise to the occasion of going with the flow versus fighting the current.

Friday, June 11, 2010

A while back, a reader wrote that they didn’t know how I accomplish all the things I do each day. I wrote back that I make a list each night of the things I believe need to get done the following day. Helps to keep me focused and manages my expectations.

Most days, the majority of the things, if not all of them, get crossed off my to-do list. But there are days when some items end up getting carried over to the next day and sometimes even the next, due to my needing to prioritize. And then there are days like today.

Although I had a carry-over list of things from yesterday, I also had a new list of things to do today. And now, near the end of the day, very few items from either list have been crossed off. Did I goof off all day? Hardly! Instead, I was pulled in a variety of other directions that kept me hopping from one thing to another. I did manage to get a ton of work done, but very little of what had been on my lists.

In years past, not getting everything crossed off my list would have driven my crazy. I would have wasted an inordinate amount of time and energy worrying over things out of my control. And in the end, I would have made myself sick trying to force my way through getting all the things checked off. But, thankfully, I’ve learned a thing or two over the years.

I no longer stress when things don’t get done. Well, at least the things that didn’t really need to be accomplished right then. And that right there is the trick. I finally learned to discern between things that need to get done versus the things I want to get done. Not to say that accomplishing things I want isn’t important. It is. In fact, as I’ve written before, those are often the things that fortify me to make it through other tasks.

But learning the difference between must do and would like to do things has gone a long ways towards teaching me to be more productive. How? Well, by not exerting energy worrying about things that don’t need to be done right then and there, I free up my schedule to get done those things that are priorities. And as an added bonus, I avoid creating stress in my life. Reducing anxieties promotes a healthier mindset that keeps me more balanced, thus ensuring that I’ll be the best prepared for what comes my way.

In the end, I’ve learned to be discerning when creating my to-do lists, only penciling in items that I think need to get done the next day. That, itself, goes a long ways towards helping to manage expectations, reduce stress and allows me to be more productive.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

It’s amazing what a difference friends can make. When I returned from my recent trip to Florida, my youngest daughter asked if it had gone better than Atlantic City a month earlier. I assured it had, and that my friends, aware of all that had happened to me on the Atlantic City trip, had rallied round me, made me feel safe and, indeed, kept me from harm. My daughter listened patiently as I told how kind my friends had been, and then she paused before sighing and saying, “Friends…that’s what they’re for.”

I couldn’t more!!!

And then yesterday, I received an email from one of those friends who reached out an olive branch of friendship, knowing that some of the things I’ll have to go through over the next few weeks will be quite difficult to get through. Reading her words, my eyes teared up, and I had to blink several times before I could finish reading her message.

Along the lines of what my daughter had said, my friend’s email couldn’t have come at a better time. She knows me well and knows how, like her, I hesitate to reach out for help, feeling that I’m imposing on a friendship. Her well-timed email came right when it was needed.

I’d just been wondering how I was to get through the next few weeks, and then I clicked on her message. It’s amazing how if we get out of our own way events have a way of falling into alignment. And friends…they’re a huge part of that equation.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Taking care of one’s self. Seems simple enough, yet a vast majority fails at this task. Oh, sure, they get things checked off their “to do” list, take care of the kids, manage the affairs of their elderly and plow through the mounds of work that crosses their desks.

By the end of every day, they’re more exhausted than when they awoke. Then someone comes along and suggests that they devote more time to themselves and, after patiently explaining how they don’t have a spare moment in their day, they give up any hope of ever finding time to treat themselves.

And yet, that is exactly what they need to do if they hold out any dreams of having enough energy to make it through the demands of their everyday lives without burning out. And for those who have burned out, taking a twenty-minute respite from their schedules once a week to treat themselves can boost their mental state and thus their productivity.

How does someone who’s every minute is occupied by demands carve out twenty minutes of “me time” once a week? It won’t be easy and will require retraining that they are, in fact, worthy of this necessary task. But it can and should be accomplished by everyone.

The twenty-minute me time is just that. It is a time where the individual does something completely by themselves…for themselves. This is not a time to run an errand that will benefit others. Nor should others accompany the person on their me time, for that would defeat the purpose of the individual getting in touch with him or herself.

This is a time to go and grab a cup of coffee and treat one’s self to the privilege of sitting and reading a book while sipping their beverage. Or it could be grabbing a bite to eat at a quaint curbside café and people watching. Or it could involve a trip to a local park where the individual takes time to appreciate nature. Or, if one is into crafts, the me time could be spent going to a craft store and picking up needed items to make some project. And then the following week’s me time could be spent creating that craft.

However me time is spent is entirely up to the individual but should be solely focused on them…no one else. After treating one’s self to this treat once a week for several weeks, the individual will wonder how they ever managed to get by without treating themselves as if they were worthy of me time. As an added bonus, the mentality of the person will evolve to reflect a happier, calmer more in control individual who is capable of accomplishing more while getting less stressed in the process.

Me time…it’s one of the best ways to prioritize taking care of one’s self.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

I have a life philosophy that people shouldn’t jump to conclusions. That they should go with the flow. That they should seek to have fun. That they shouldn’t look for hidden agendas as there most likely aren’t any and looking for them will only create them.

This is a practice I strive to achieve every day. Some days I succeed, others I fall short, overwhelmed by life and situations I find myself in. But that’s okay. I don’t expect myself to be perfect and hope that in the end everything will balance out.

For me, I’ve learned that when I allow myself to get caught up in drama and over analyze things to the point that I’m searching for hidden agendas, all I manage to accomplish is to heap more stress and difficulties on my plate. But when I chill out and take things at face value, with my only expectation being to have a good time, things have an amazing way of falling into alignment to create favorable situations.

People I come interact with seem more agreeable. Tasks manage to get accomplished with minimum effort. And the hiccups and speed bumps that can afflict daily life, although they may still be present, seem to lose some of their significance.

And this is a good thing! It lets me know that on those days, I’ve succeeded in my objective to avoid jumping to conclusions. Go with the flow. Strive to have fun. Avoid looking for hidden agendas. And those…they are my best days.

Monday, June 7, 2010

I’m writing this from my layover in Dallas on my way home from Florida. A little bit ago, I became exhausted and, thinking back over the past five days, tallied up the number of hours of sleep I’ve had—13 total.

Ugh!

Was great while I was riding an adrenaline and endorphin high forged from gathering with a bunch of writer friends to network and discuss our passions. But now…? Not so hot.

As I’m sitting here in one of the airport’s lounges, I can’t help but wonder what happened to the comfy sofas they used to have. Those were great, especially when traveling internationally. Could stretch out to take a nap, after setting an alarm to wake up for your connecting flight.

But sadly, the sofas are a thing of the past, leaving us with only chairs and coffee tables. Both seem to indicate that sleeping is a waste of time and encourage their occupants to be productive by accomplishing more work.

Hmmm…right now, I prefer the sofas.

Any who, my time spent in Florida was great, very productive. Had a wonderful time reconnecting with fellow writers and friends who flew in from all over the world. And the best bonus was getting to see my sis. Parting was definitely tough but well-worth having the chance to see one another again.

Tomorrow I’ll resume my regular routine, not that it’s really regular, for the next two weeks until I’ll be traveling to Arizona. It’ll be good to get home and sleep in my own bed—the operative word being sleep.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Today was a sad day. I had to say “good-bye” to my sis—always tough, but this time especially so. Usually we save bidding one another farewell to the very last, and today was no exception. Why? Because when we have to envision saying those dreaded words that will separate us, we dissolve—and neither of us is into public displays of emotion.

Today’s parting took place in a conference room full of people and was horrible. As I stood at the front of the room, preparing to tell her how much I love her, all eyes were on me. My brain told my mouth to convey how much I love her and how much I’ll miss her as I fought with all my might to maintain my composure. The effort made my legs shake so violently that I thought they might give out.

I clenched my fists and strengthened my resolve. When that failed to stop the emotional storm within me so I could get through what I wanted/need to tell her, my voice cracked, and I had a hard time formulating my thoughts into coherent sentences.

I managed to make it through that public display only to have my sis and me fall apart as soon as we met up outside the conference room. We stood there holding one another as if that might stop time, allowing us to remain together. Our husbands watched and friends circled, drawn as they always are, by our devotion to and emotional tie to one another.

Gonna be a bit before we get to see one another again. She’s already made it home and is sadder than sad. Me, I feel as if a part of my heart has been ripped out. My “partner in crime” who I so enjoy sharing incredible moments with isn’t by my side.

But that’s okay. I know we’ll make it through until the next time we get to meet up. And in the meantime…? We’ll have to start counting down the days.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

I’ve been having a lot of conversations with folks while here in Florida about how people get out of a situation what they put into it. For example, if an individual enters a setting with the frame of mind that it’s going to be bad, that they won’t have any fun, or that people won’t like them, then that’s usually what translates into reality.

While discussing this with friends, we came to the conclusion that this is due to the person emitting a negative vibe that others pick up on. As such, out of consideration, people give the negative-emitting individual a wide berth. This isn’t due to them being mean or insensitive—quite the opposite.

What my friends and I discerned while picking this subject apart is that most people are empathetic to what others are going though and will try to give an individual who’s having a tough time some extra space. Not as a mean’s to ostracize them, though that is what tends to be the result, but out of a sense of wanting to allow the person space and time to come to terms with whatever they’re going through.

Having said this, it’s important for folks to recognize their own part in how things play out. How others treat them. That if they’re having a bad experience while those around them are having a good time, then perhaps it’s time to take a closer look at what their demeanor might be emitting to others.

Friday, June 4, 2010

I’m here in Florida, for the second day now and have found myself in a bunch of conversations about relationships—the chemistry between folks. Now I’m not talking about from a sexual standpoint. No, what I’m referring to is the unique bond that has no rhyme or reason as to why certain individuals are drawn to one another.

As my conversations continued on the subject, those I engaged with delved deeper, indicating that there are times when chemistry will be present and other times when it will not. And the latter can be due to where each person’s emotional and mental standing is at that particular moment. As such, we discussed how at one meeting folks can have a great experience with one another—the chemistry clicking into place, while at other times, due to extenuating circumstances, that chemistry will prove evasive, causing the bond to possibly falter.

In the end, we decided that the best thing to do is not write people off when that happens, reasoning that we’re all human, have our fallible moments and need to be flexible and patient enough for things to turn around.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

While waiting in the airport this morning, I had the most enjoyable conversation with a mother and her two daughters, ages nine and twelve. She told me how they had just returned form Florida a week ago, and how that flight had been plagued with toddler-aged children who cried, screamed and were generally disruptive the whole five-hour flight.

Ugh! Been there. Experienced that.

Being a mother herself, the woman fully understood that there are times when children are just generally cranky. That wouldn’t have upset her. But what got her was that the children were either ignored or their parents had indulged their bad behavior during the entire flight.

The woman’s two daughters chimed in that it was terrible how those parents failed to actually do anything about their out-of-control kids, instead, opting to make everyone else suffer. The fact that these two young girls recognized the error of those parents’ ways greatly impressed me. I like to see new generations of conscientious children who have been parented well.

Gives me hope.

The woman, her daughters and I went on to discuss how irksome it is that many parents of today’s young children fail to take an active role in parenting their own children. On planes, they slip on their headphones and ignore them. In restaurants, they allow them to run around, instead of having them sit at the table. In stores, they are allowed to scream, throw tantrums and disrupt others while their parents, bent on serving their own needs, ignore them. And then there are the parents who take their kids to stores that contain toy aisles and drop them off there, while going off to shop in other parts of the store.

What the heck?!

This is a trend I see occurring more and more, and I can’t help but wonder when it became acceptable for parents to have children and then not take care of them or show the slightest interest in teaching them proper ways of self-conduct. Does it not pass through these parents’ minds that if they don’t teach their children, then no one will?

The mother, her daughters and I talked about how it’s easier to put in the early effort necessary to “condition” one’s children as to how to behave than to have to deal with hellions that have not the slightest idea how to conduct themselves and, as such, end up being singled out as black dots on society. Do the parents who are lax in taking responsibility for their children not care that they are setting them up for a life of failure?

I ended my conversation with the mother by complimenting her daughters on how nice it was to witness a next generation of well-mannered conscientious young ladies who will no doubt pass those same good traits onto their own children someday.

Gives me hope that good manners, being well behaved and acting with dignity and grace are not concepts of the past.