Sunday, Sept. 30, 2012

GPS tracking devices….  Oh…how messed up their instructions can be!

Seems like a simple enough process for programmers to plug in the information—maps, routes, directions, etc. into a GPS device.  Then, as those who use said devices, it would make sense that we’d be able to type in an address where we want to end up and have the GPS plot a route for us to take.

But then there’s the willful GPS that just loves to mess with us….  LOL.

Case in point.  A few days back, I went to pick my Canadian girlfriend up from the airport—an airport I’d never been to.  I’d been told it was a super small airport and easy to drop and pick up passengers from.  As such, I was encouraged that I’d have no trouble finding it.  But just in case, I printed a set of instructions from Google maps and had directions on my smart phone as well as on my GPS device.  One would think that was enough to cover my bases to avoid a mishap….

Everything went fine and dandy till I had to leave the freeway.  All my sets of directions gave me a different off ramp to take.   I decided to go with the instructions from my verbal navigator system.

Big mistake!

As soon as I exited the freeway, my GPS told me to head north into the mountains.

What?!  There’s no airport up there….

I disregarded that instruction and headed the opposite directions, my GPS immediately informing me that it was recalculating my route.  It then told me to turn on the next street.  I did and found myself led into a little airport.  Only problem was, I didn’t see a single full-sized commercial jet.  The only planes on that field were two to four-person planes.

Hmmm….  Well…I’m at an airport….

Driving a short distance further, I found a visitor’s center for the airfield and decided to ask directions, since my GPS wasn’t being any help.  I found a couple of older men in the rear of the building who informed me I was about two miles from where I needed to be.

All righty then….  LOL.

Getting back in my car, I followed the directions the men gave me and arrived at another airport…least, I was fairly sure it was an airport.  Only problem was, I wasn’t sure it was the airport I wanted.

Seriously, how many tiny airports can this town have?!

I drove around, not recognizing a single landmark my friends had told me would let me know I was at the right airport.

Hmmm….

Not only that, but I couldn’t find a single sign that told me how to get up close to the building that I suspected was where passenger drop offs and pick ups took place.  Driving past the main—and only building—I continued on, hoping to find signs that would tell me where I needed to go.  There were none…until…I left and was heading towards the freeway—a different freeway.  

This just isn’t working out….

Since I was sure that wasn’t the way I needed to head, I opted to turn back and retrace my driving path, hoping I’d see a sign I might have missed the first time. 

Sure enough, going that direction, I immediately found the sign I sought and turned into the main building area.  Looking back, I noticed there were no such signs marking the entrance from the direction I’d originally come….

Did I mention that this tiny little airport, a mere speck, had just been rebuilt?  And though it was still very small—a single building—it looked nothing like what I’d been told to expect.  On top of that, on the particular day I was there, all the landscaping was being put in.  Due to that, the signs I’d been looking for were covered with tarps, I suppose so nothing would happen to them.

Hmmm….guess they expect those who go to that particular airport to know how the heck to get in and out of it all on our own….

All’s well that end’s well.  

I managed to get where I needed to go.  Took a bit longer than expected and my GPS was no help.  But I managed to figure things out and pick up my girlfriend.  Am still wondering though why every single set of driving instructions were dead wrong.  Wonder if it had anything to do with the airport having just been completely rebuilt...?    

Saturday, Sept. 29, 2012

Ah…carmegedon….  Never before had California opted to close one of its biggest freeway arteries…until the last carmegedon we had just a few months back.  With that event, the media did a fabulous job of forewarning folks and offering alternate ways to get from here to there, avoiding the areas that would be most affected.  But there were consequences….

Since the freeway that was closed was one of the biggest main arteries of southern California, closing it affected every other connecting freeway.  It even affected freeways that were nearby but not directly connected. 

Folks did an awesome job of planning ahead for the closures.  What had been dreaded as the biggest freeway nightmare of Californian history turned out to be a bother but not the disaster it could have been.  When carmegedon was over, those of us who live here wiped our brows and sighed in relief, thinking that was over and we’d never have to face anther carmegedon.  Flash forward to this weekend….

When the last freeway closure took place, that was bad enough.  But this time, officials planned to close a vast majority of the same freeway.  A part of me that wondered if since folks managed to deal so well with the last carmegedon, officials felt it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to close an even bigger stretch of the same main freeway artery this time.

Once again, the media, papers and illuminated freeway notification signs forewarned of the closure and cautioned folks to find alternative routes.  Once again, those of us who live here moaned our dissatisfaction.  But…once again…in true southern Californian style, we rose to the occasion.

What could have turned out to be a commuter’s disaster was definitely troublesome but nowhere near the horrible mess it could have been.  Why?  Simple.  Cause when push comes to shove, we southern Californians rise to the occasion in order to make a bad situation better.

Friday, Sept. 28, 2012

My Canadian girlfriend and I have had a wonderful time comparing notes on the differences between how her country and the US do things differently.  Some of the biggest differences are how in her country there are no real estate tax write-offs—none…nothing…nadda.  Also, in Canada, if a person needs surgery, they cannot opt to have it done, as is the case here in the US.  Instead, their process to become eligible for surgery is similar to how we have PPO providers where the insured must go to a regular doctor then get referred to a specialist who will then write a prescription for said surgery if they deem it absolutely necessary.  This can pose problems.

For example, my girlfriend fell a year back and sustained a substantial injury to her knee that the doctors and specialists are still trying to unravel.  When the original injury took place, the result was a hematoma to that knee.  It’s now believed, since the knee gives her constant grief—all this time later—that the hematoma may have torn a hole in the cartilage behind her knee.  And here’s the catch.

Though the doctors know that would require surgery to replace the cartilage, a procedure that’s possible and has great success, they won’t do it…now.  Instead, they tell my girlfriend she has to wait until the whole knee gives out. 

What?!

Only then, when she has complete knee replacement, will the doctors address the cartilage.  So why, you might ask, doesn’t my girlfriend opt to have surgery done anyhow without going through her insurance….  Simple.  She’s not allowed…or rather, no surgeons will do the surgery without her getting a prescription for said procedure… which…she can’t get…at this time.

Sheesh!  And I thought medical care here in the states was messed up….

After hearing my girlfriend’s dilemma, I’m pretty pleased with how we handle medical processes here.  After all, who wants to live out the next two decades in constant pain when that’s totally unnecessary simply because the country’s medical procedures won’t allow for the simple corrective surgery to be performed?

Thursday, Sept. 27, 2012

One of the things I love best about having a wide variety of friends from all over is the world perspective they offer.   I adore comparing notes of how we do things in America versus how things are handled where my friends live. 

One of the best contrasts is how we do things here in the US versus how Canada handles things.  I get an up-close-and-personal accounting of those differences whenever I get together with one of my Canadian girlfriends. 

In a couple of hours, I’ll head to the airport to pick up that friend, eager to again share all the differences between our two countries.  Like me, this girlfriend enjoys broadening her perspective on life through interactions with a wide host of varying individuals.  We both hold the same philosophy—what better way to better understand the world we live in than to interact with, study and learn about those who live in other places?  

Wednesday, Sept. 26, 2012

There used to be a primetime television show on called Tool Time with Tim Allen.  I loved that show!  On it, there was an interesting character, Wilson, who we viewers never got to see other than the tip of his head or hat, him always conversing with Tim from the other side of their adjoining wood fence.  Yesterday, I chuckled, remembering that show and character, as I held a lengthy conversation with one of my neighbors through our wood fence, neither of us able to see the other. 

That seemed strange…and yet…not.  Yes, I’ve met both the folks who live at that house—a lovely couple who are sweet and friendly as can be.  Since moving in, we’ve had occasions to converse with one another, but those conversations have taken place out front or when I’m in my back yard, looking up at them from their rear balcony.  Yesterday’s fence talk was a new experience—a gratifying one.

One of the things I missed most, living at my old residence for the past eleven years, was a sense of neighborhood.  There, each of us had large properties, and those surrounding me wanted nothing to do with anyone living near them, keeping to themselves.  I used to joke that if there were a fire, my house would burn down without a single neighbor ever uttering a peep or offering help.

That’s so not the case with were I now live!  Here, it’s like taking a step back in time thirty-some odd years ago where people trust and want to interact with one another.  Neighbors don’t just breeze by one another, barely making eye contact.  Instead, they pause whatever they’re doing to see if help is needed or to just stop and chat with one another—ya know, get to know one another—be neighborly.

So, though each of us was doing yard chores yesterday, my neighbor and I paused to catch up with one another through our fence.  I like that—the sense of community here.  How folks actually care about others.  Builds a strong sense of community and makes it a wonderful place to call home!

Tuesday, Sept. 25, 2012

Yesterday, I told how my day stated off with a bang—Sadie, my female dog, in need of seeing a vet—me not aware of any in my new neck of the woods.  Then, as luck smiled on me, I was made aware of a qualified vet while talking to another woman I was interviewing about a Pilates studio….

When I pulled up to the pet hospital, I was instantly fond of the place—a recreation of the pet hospital I’d worked a lifetime ago.  Their staff proved to be super nice.  While there, I met another customer who overheard me telling the staff member that I’d been recommended by a Pilates studio office manager.  The other customer introduced herself and asked if perhaps the person who had recommended me was from thus-and-such Pilates studio.  I told her she was.  The other customer smiled and told me how she frequented that studio and loved all they had to offer. 

While I waited to have Sadie seen by the vet, the other customer and I got to know one another and talked pilates, me especially grateful that I’d met this woman who gave such a shining review of the Pilates studio I hoped I’d soon be frequenting.

Today began with my being concerned about Sadie and whether I’d find a qualified vet to treat her.  I didn’t have much time to worry over it, however, thanks to one of the biggest reasons I decided to call where I now live home—how open, helpful, accepting and friendly everyone here is.  It’s like taking a step back in time.  To a simpler more trusting time where people take the time to get to know their neighbors and welcome those who want to move to their town with open arms.

My vet visit went smooth as could be.  The vet fell in love with Sadie.  Most people who meet her do….  And he made me promise that if I ever tire of Sadie that I’d let him know, cause he and his wife would take her in a heartbeat. 

Wow, how nice!

Sadie’s now on mediation for her problem and responding to it well, feeling much better than she had been. 

Yay!  Nice to have my baby feeling better.

She should be back to normal soon.  In the meantime, I keep smiling over how fortunate I am to have experienced the stream of luck that befell me today….    

Monday, Sept. 24, 2012

Nothing like starting your day off with a bang….

For the past few days, I’ve been wondering what that heck is wrong with Sadie, my female dog.  Today, I unraveled the problem and realized it required a visit to the vet’s.  Only problem is, I didn’t know of any, much less a good vet where I now live.

Hmmm….

But that problem was solved in the process of my searching for a new place to do Pilates workouts.  While on the phone with one of the studios, I got chatting with the gal who works the front desk.  Like most of the people I’ve met up here, she was quite nice, willing to help and friendly.  When she learned that I was in need of a vet, she said she knew of an awesome one and if I’d hold, she’d run out to her car and get me their number. 

Okay, one doesn’t get that kind of helpfulness where I used to live….

Anyhow, I told her I’d be happy to hold, did and got the name and number and a brief history of the husband/wife vet team that now owns the hospital.  Having been a veterinarian technician years back and picky about who treats my animals, I was encouraged by all the great things the Pilates receptionist shared about these vets.  When I hung up, I not only felt I’d found a new Pilates studio but then called the vet and made the first available appointment to have Sadie seen.

Tune in tomorrow to see what happened when I went to the vet with Sadie.

Sunday, Sept. 23, 2012

There are times when life throws us wonderful breadcrumbs.  Today was one of those.  My oldest daughter was visiting from out of state and wanted to drop in today for a visit.  Of course, I told her I’d be thrilled to have her come, spend some time together and have her see my new house. 

Already excited about the prospect of seeing my one daughter, I got a bonus when she texted me, already en route to my house, that her younger sister was coming as well.

What a great surprise! 

My youngest daughter and granddaughter were supposed to come and stay with me a week after I moved in.  Unfortunately, she cancelled that trip.  Made me sad, but I understood.  Then she rescheduled for a few days later.  Again, my heart soared at the prospect of spending some time with my daughter and granddaughter.  But alas…she had to cancel that trip as well….  Again, my heart sank.

So today’s surprise visit by her and her older sister was a double bonus.  One I was beyond excited about.  They weren’t able to stay for long—only a few hours.  But it was still wonderful to see them. 

Since I moved, I’ve missed them.

Was fun to just sit and chat, show them my house and then drive them to a nearby larger beach where we strolled the boardwalk, a cool fog having enveloped the beach.  From the boardwalk, we walked to the end of the pier, hoping to catch sight of the giant starfish my youngest son and I had seen the week before. 

Unfortunately, the tide had risen too much for us to catch glimpses of them on the pier pilings.  I commented that my daughters would just have to come back so we could try to see the starfish another time.  My oldest daughter joked that yeah, right, the only reason she’d come back was to see the starfish.

LOL.

Today was a great day!  One that made my heart soar.  Was wonderful to see my girls and spend some time with them.  With any luck, we’ll have more time to spend together next time….  

Saturday, Sept. 22, 2012

I spoke with a friend earlier today and agreed how, though we are both outgoing and love to do things with others, there are times when it’s nice to hunker down and stay in.  Spend time away from others.  Get in touch with our selves.  Relax in a manner that doesn’t involve a lot of distance driving or doing this or that—ya know…just curl up at home with a good book, a nice movie, a close friend or a warm fire to gaze at.

My friend and I spoke about how in today’s hustle/bustle world, people feel compelled to do, do, do—always on the go.  We agreed that can be nice…for a bit…but sooner or later, it’s nice to draw back and regroup one’s self.  Like I said, that can be by time spent alone or with another.  But whatever one chooses to do in that recharging time, they should be mindful that it’s meant to be a stress-free time that doesn’t involve hectic schedules.  After all, life is already full of hectic schedules that have us running this way and that.  Don’t we owe ourselves the treat of decompressing from that hectic schedule…at least every once in a while? 

Friday, Sept. 21, 2012

Writing is like a living legacy to a writer.  The words we scribe are infused with our thoughts, emotions, sensibilities, passions, etc.  We share for many reasons and about many subjects.  Sometimes, we feel inclined to censor what we share, not wanting or feeling it’s appropriate for everyone to know all about us.   I believe that one of the biggest reasons writers have the courage, ambition and drive to jot down the thoughts that tumble around their heads is to be remembered. 

Think of it this way, so long as we’re remembered, we remain alive.  Not literally, but figuratively.  For even after we’re dead and gone, so long as our writing lives on—brings smiles, screams and joy to those who read it—then we aren’t forgotten.  And so long as we’re not forgotten, we go on living—our spirit does anyway.

Thursday, Sept. 20, 2012

I’ve heard many ways friends have celebrated when their divorces were made final.  Anything and everything from a quiet night in, getting drunk, having a celebratory party to smashing their old wedding ring.  Trust me, I had my own notions of how I’d celebrate….

But when all was said and done and I was making the 108-mile drive back home from the court, an interesting thing happened.  An absolute calm washed over me.  Then…I wanted to do…something…create something new…breathe new life into something already existing. 

So what did I do?  I stopped at a couple of landscape growers before locating one of my favorite plants.  Well…actually, I was seeking a couple of them—both of the same plant.  My thought was, what better way to celebrate beginning a new life than by planting something that would grow and flourish right along with me?  So, I did that. 

Though many growers have stopped carrying this particular plant, I did find one, a mere twenty-minute drive from my new house, which had a ton of them.  And best of all, this was a wholesale nursery/tree grower, so their items were about a quarter of the price they would have been elsewhere.  In addition, their particular plants were enormous! 

Woohoo and score for me!

I paid for my plants, satisfied with how I’d decided to celebrate my new lease on life.  Had to leave them at the nursery, though, till a friend with a large truck would help me move them today.

Setting my alarm for early this morning, my friend and I headed back to the nursery.  There, with the help of two other workers, we were able to get the trees loaded into the back of the truck.  Then, in order to not wind damage or put the trees into too much shock, we drove half the normal speed to get back to my house.  Took and hour instead of twenty minutes to make the trek, but the trees appreciated our effort and held up great!

Each tree weighs in at about two hundred pounds!  Big buggers that are delicate, meaning one has to be mindful not to put too much pressure on the limbs, least they snap off.  Therefore, getting the planting tubs off each and then placing them in the holes I’d dug was a bit of a…challenge.  Seems the trees had the idea that little ol’ me should end up in the hole with them.  Something along the lines of, if we go…you go too.

LOL. 

But I’m not a novice at planting huge things and was able to ease the trees into their holes without planting myself in the process.  Good thing, cause after I’d backfilled the holes and stepped back to see my handiwork, a huge smile awakened my face. 

Still have that smile…. 

Conversed with a ton of friends last night that wanted to know how I celebrated.  Had I burned my old wedding dress…?  Smashed my wedding bands…?  Had a party…?  When I told them about my tree-planting celebration, each was impressed with how I maintained my positive attitude by wanting to breath new positive energy into my new beginning.  And you know what?  I couldn’t be more pleased with how I opted to celebrate my new single life.  Looking out the window, I keep smiling at my trees, thinking, ya know…we’re gonna be just fine…in fact, we’re gonna be great!       

Wednesday, Sept. 19, 2012

Today, my divorce was made final!  Wasn’t sure if that would be possible or not.  Used to be that a couple could have a court date set for the judge to hear their divorce, and if all was in order and the terms agreed upon, the divorce would then be signed off right then and there. 

But that changed back in July when LA County lost three and a half million dollars in their budget and needed to put the shortfall…somewhere.  That shortage was dumped in the lap of the family courts that handle divorces.  As such, it’s no longer the norm to have a divorce, “walked through” and signed off on the spot as I outlined above. 

Instead, a couple signs their papers, sends them to the court, where their file gets added to a huge stack of other awaiting cases.  There it sits for anywhere up to six months until someone gets around to reading and signing it off.  Course, the couple has no way of knowing when that read and sign of will take place, so their lives, financial decisions, etc, get put on hold during that waiting period.

How special…not!

My ex and I decided that wasn’t for us, wanting to expedite things.  So we found a workaround.  The result was that the court set a date for our hearing, which was today.

Yay!

But…there was still a chance the judge would decide to not sign off on our divorce, making us wait until…until…who knows what reason he would have chosen.  But all was in order with out paperwork.  The Ts had been crossed—twice—along with all Is being double dotted.

LOL.

My ex and I weren’t taking any chances for a delay.  So, holding my breath, I signed into court, got sworn in and hoped for the best.  It came time for the judge to address our case.  He did and decided all looked well and fine, my ex and I had come to acceptable terms and were in agreement that this marriage needed to end.  So, that’s what the judge did.  With a flourish of his pen, a wave of his hand and a smile on his face, he announced that my ex and I were to be returned to single status.

Woohoo!

Never had words sounded so good!  It’s been a looooooong journey to get to today’s court hearing and sign off.  All emotions were felt, despite my ex and I doing our best to make ours as amicable a divorce as possible.  Seemed a huge task after having been together for thirty years….  But we were determined to take the high road for the sake of our children and selves.  After all, we didn’t want to add to an already difficult situation.

So, simple as that, we’re divorced.  In the words of my older sister “seems kind of odd.”  She was referring to the fact that I’d been with my ex for so long that now it seems strange to think of me…on my own.  She’s thrilled and glad that I’m happy and doing well, but still…my being single seems…odd…in a good way, though.  As for me, now it’s time to go out and explore this new life of mine….    

Tuesday, Sept. 18, 2012

While reading a book yesterday, I came across this quote that one of the main characters made.  “A story is a letter the author writes himself….”  I couldn’t agree more with the saying.  The one who made the quote was referring to another main character who happened to be an author.   

Writers like to remember things.  We do so by jogging our memories in unique manners.  Much like others do…but…different.  Many of us keep journals—a veritable roadmap of where we’ve been—our hearts, minds, emotions, souls and how life has affected all the above.  We also write stories.  Some are based on those things we’ve written in our journal.  The facts may not be exactly the same or even mirror what really happened, but we do use our life experiences to influence how and what we write about. 

So it’s no surprise that someone would think that a story is a letter an author writes himself.  After all, who doesn’t like a good story?  And…if you’re the one creating said story, the possibilities are endless yet somewhat confined by things you’ve experienced, which lend themselves to season your writing to finely melded dishes worthy of gobbling up.

Does the fact that authors write stories as letters to themselves imply that we care not what others think of our writing?  Absolutely not!  Just that we write what pleases us.  Those things that bubble up from so far within us that we know not their origin, only that their births cannot be denied.

As a writer, I have a voracious reading appetite and love to read what other authors have scribed, wondering if I can catch glimpses of the writer’s true self in between the lines they’ve written.  Has the author revealed informational treasure nuggets about himself through their stories?  Do we get to see parts of them, normally well hidden, come into focus as they expound upon characters—their lives, sensibilities, happenings and what have you.

So here I’ll pause to implore that the next time you read a writer’s works, you try to see more than just the story they’ve created.  Search the pages to see what “hidden” story the writer might have infused the pages of his story with—those things that might reveal much about the author himself.   

Monday, Sept. 17, 2012

What are the odds…?

An interesting thing happened to me just a few days after I moved.  Since I’ve been willing to perform jury duty—and have—in the past, the County I used to live in decided it was time for me to serve again, so they sent me a summons.  Only problem is, I now live in a different county.  No big problem.  They make allowances for that.  

All I had to do was call the court to register and inform them that I’d moved out of their county.  I did so in the time period required.  But then…they wanted me to fill out the summons document.  Did that.  Course, there was a hitch….

They also required that I provide a copy of a current utility bill for my new address with my name on it.  That created a big problem!  After all, I had only moved three days prior.  As such, I didn’t have any such bill for my new address.  To compound problems, I wouldn’t get one for near a month—waaaaaaay outside the court’s response time I was required to adhere to.

Hmmm….

I spent my free time last week making phone calls, trying to figure a workaround the required copy of the utility bill.  Since moving, the only bill I’d gotten, and paid, was the cable/Internet/phone bill, which, of course, the court did not consider a utility bill.

Hmmm….

By the end of last week, I figured I needed to talk to someone up-close-and-personal to sort through this.  Course, the city civic building just so happened to be closed last Friday.

Of course it was….  LOL.

So I had to wait until today to resume my quest to resolve this problem—my time limit quickly coming to a close.

Standing at the utilities bill window in the downtown Civic building, I explained my dilemma to the nice woman at the counter who was perplexed by how to solve the problem.  Eager to help, she consulted with her boss…who consulted with her manager.  It took a bit of creative thinking, but finally they came up with a solution that everyone hopes will fulfill the required documents.

Tomorrow, I’ll mail the court form along with the document we created at the Civic building this afternoon and cross my fingers that all goes well….  In the meantime, I keep scratching my head, wondering what kind of incredible odds must have played out for me to be summoned three days after my moving out of that County…..

Sunday, Sept. 16, 2012

Today’s been an awesome day!  Got to show my youngest son, the high-schooler who I picked up late last night from his cross-country meet, around my new neighborhood.   He was impressed with my immediate neighborhood and the surrounding beach communities that I took him to.  But what most impressed him, and I was pleased it did, was how down-to-earth and real my neighbors are. 

On the one side of me live three military personnel who are renting the house.  I warned my son that they all, the woman especially, get a little…animated and verbally excited while watching football, foul language spewing from their lips like the air we breathe, a plentiful supply that never quite diminishes.

LOL.

When the football game began today, so too did the animated verbal commentary from my neighbors.  Sitting downstairs reading, I smiled and chuckled quietly to myself, enjoying how passionate my neighbors are about sports.  My son came in a few minutes later, also smiling.  He shared how he enjoyed how real my neighbors are and how they didn’t feel constrained to contain their true emotions, enthusiasm or displeasure with the game they were watching.  He then said he thought they’d be really fun people and hopes he gets the chance to met them.  That made me smile even more….

I like how my son, as do I, is able to appreciate others and willing to let them just be themselves, not hold them to some stringent standards that society deems is appropriate or not.  It was nice to see the maturity in my son shine through today!    

Saturday, Sept. 15, 2012

Wow, how times have changed!  Or have they…?  Used to be that school sports events, the latest ones, were football games.  Not so any longer.  Last night, I had to pick up my high school son at midnight from where the bus dropped him off at school, following his cross-country event.  Midnight?  Really?  Midnight?  Yes. 

Speaking with a girlfriend earlier in the evening who was astounded by the late hour the bus would be returning, I had to agree that it was, indeed, a super late hour.  In addition, the athletes then had homework for heavy class loads to finish the next day.  My friend wondered aloud how in the heck the students were able to keep up.  I then added how with practices, the kids begin school at just before seven in the morning and don’t finish until after 5 in the evening!  Then…they have to come home and slug their way through homework. 

Again, my girlfriend was astounded that the students could make it all work.  I explained how the kids on our cross-country team—one of the top ranked—are all exceptional students.  That the disciplines they learn with workout schedules help them be as dedicated to their studies.  As a result, only the cream-of-the crop makes it onto the cross-country team despite many more who try out. 

Having been a serious athlete myself who had to balance studying and time-consuming workout routines in high school, I applaud my son’s coaches who are committed to teaching this generation, our kids, a solid work ethic.  One that will serve them well not only on the courses they run, but also in life.  So…although the buses may now be getting the kids home later following meets, the morals, ethics and work standards the kids are being taught mirror those of yesteryear, about which I’m thrilled.         

Friday, Sept. 14, 2012

As I reported a couple of weeks back, this last year was wrought with challenges and major life changes due to my divorce.  As such, some things had to change that I would have preferred wouldn’t have.  One of those was my website needed to go to a new host thanks to Apple making changes and shutting down previously offered options.  In addition, I lost my Webmaster, who happened to be my ex, and had to learn how to take over my own blog. 

Had my life not been in such a state of flux and if I hadn’t been in such a dazed state, I would’ve been better equipped to handle the transfer of sites in a more seamless fashion.  But as it turned out, I wasn’t and my blog has suffered the consequences.  Why?  Because a good number of my long-term readers no longer were aware of how or where to locate my blog. 

So…kind of like how my life has had to start over again, so too is my blog.  I’ve no doubt that I’ll build it back to the readership I once had—even stronger now that I have recovered from and made it through my turbulent divorce waters.  I do thank those readers who continued on with me!  Know that I’m dedicated to rebuilding my readership here—and elsewhere—and will now take the necessary steps to do so. 

I feel a sense of responsibility to provide for you the best blogs I can.  That’s what drives me to post a daily blog.  To keep it upbeat, even when I’m not feeling so.  Most of all, that’s why I endeavor to post only positive-based topics, to create a time and space in your/ my day where we can escape life’s more negative aspects—if only for a few minutes—to focus on something uplifting.  And so, I gift you my blogs….  After all, if it weren’t for you dedicated readers, where would I be? 

Thursday, Sept. 13, 2012

A couple of years back, I began, what I thought was a fun idea, with my blogs.  I would begin a short story—write a paragraph or so to get the ball rolling.  Then I’d ask my blog readers to continue on with the story by adding to it through their comments.  At the end of each week, I’d edit together what had been written thus far into a more cohesive piece.  This process would continue four weeks, at the end of which time, if the readers hadn’t finished off the story, I would and then would post the finished product for all to read as a writing collaborative effort.  Folks enjoyed adding to those stories.  Taking them where they wanted them to go.  Building upon what previous readers had added and then taking the story further. 

As a writer, I was surprised by how well this process worked, for I’d considered it aloud with other writers who said they didn’t think it would work due to such varying “voices” lending themselves to the stories.  But they did work.  In fact, the voices flowed seamlessly together to create imaginative stories.  I loved the twists and turns readers would have those stories take.  How, more often than not, I was impressed with the contributors’ creative abilities. 

But then, week by week, readers stopped adding to the stories, and I found myself having to write more and more of what was meant to be the readers’ stories.  Creating them into what I envisioned rather than letting readers, which is what I craved, mold the stories into their own creations.  As a result, those collaborative story efforts ceased.  I miss them.  The fun we had together, creating works that everyone enjoyed—contributors and readers alike. 

A number of months back, I asked readers if they too missed those joint efforts and wanted me to resurrect them.  I was told they did, so I initiated another story that ended up sitting there, basically untouched by others….  I wish things had turned out different.  That folks would’ve embraced the idea of once again adding to collaborative writing efforts.  But that wasn’t to be, so I again put the project to rest. 

I’m not criticizing.  Just lamenting a time that was a lot of fun and wishing it could have been resumed.  But time passes.  People get caught up in other things.  Time becomes precious.  Folks can’t afford to spend what little time they have on such trivialities.  That’s okay.  It’s the way things are.  Not right…or wrong…just…is. 

So why did I bring this up?  I’d been thinking a lot about those past joint writing efforts and thought I’d mention them and how I felt…that’s all.