Happy Halloween!

the pumpkin we carved
the pumpkin we carved

I was hoping my daughter would sleep through her sugar crash last night long enough to post this…

Sometimes…

…sometimes I just want to write. I do not want to care about content or saying things that actually have any meaning. I do not want to care that it is Sunday morning here and not Saturday and it is no longer Halloween. If I had to adhere to time restraints, I may not ever post anything…

I think I have been suffering from TMI with all of the blogging tips that have been floating around here lately. I began to have daymares about speaking to all of my followers. Public speaking is one thing – there is usually an educational aspect to it and if I am passionate about a subject, I can pull it off. Here… a little different since I have to rely on my own imagination…

The one thing I have come to realize is that, in actuality, I am a very private person. And writing, for me, is an extremely intimate thing. I am connecting with that voice that is otherwise silenced by my need to do’s, should do’s and should have done’s.

The other aspect is time. There really is so much that I want to say but I am having trouble carving out those minutes I need to put them somewhere…

There you have it. A little ramble, just me overcoming some obstacles of time, content, and communication. Happy Sunday!!

 

 

 

Needing Wind

Sigh. This has just been one of those years… We started it off with the best of intentions and were thwarted by things (mostly) out of our control. I can tell you that I have felt like a miner with a dull spoon, scraping away at the same rock with little results, waiting for for that piece of gold to fall to my feet. I can also tell you that I have lost my enthusiasm along the way.

This last week, we have had to reassess our situation here and contemplate which way is the best to go. It is never easy to let go of your dreams and admit defeat. It is not easy for us to make the call, load up all of our four legged critters and say goodbye. And the impact of our decision has left us feeling…well defeated.

We could use a little wind in our sails to help us push past these waters right now. Every night, as we lay on the couch and wrap our arms around each other, I can’t ignore the heaviness in our hearts, and it feels a little too much like empty comfort.

Coffee Anyone?

writing101: day 10: update your readers over a cup of coffee

If we were having coffee right now…

….I would tell you that I have a road trip planned for this weekend. Initially, I was quite excited about abandoning my responsibilities for an overnight excursion. I believe I chanted “I am free! I am free!” when I planned the trip. But I am already feeling guilty at the prospect of leaving.

If we were having coffee right now…

…I would tell you that I am taking a writing 101 course and generally, I do not talk about myself this much. I would ask you all sorts of questions about your life – job, home, and family – to help pass the time. I would watch your eyes light up as you relay a story and enjoy the comfort of your honesty.

If we were having coffee right now…

…my knee would probably be bouncing because I have slurped up too much caffeine. I really cannot resist the sugary goodness of the coffee creamer. Energized, I would leave your place with fidgety excitement to tackle projects with when I return home. I would apologize for not stopping by more often. I just seem to be a little busy at the moment, and I hope that things will slow down soon. I would thank you for everything, for listening, for taking the time to chat, because I really do enjoy the conversations I have here. Each and every single one of them, so thanks for that too.

Until next time…

Butterflies

rehashing this older post for writing101:day9

Dear Mom,

I needed to let you know, mama, that I am still thinking of you. If you were here I would let you braid my hair like you used to. I might let you brush it if you promised to be gentle. Maybe you could cook for me, and we could measure your “little bits”, so I could get it right, because, somehow, when I try, it just doesn’t taste the same.

You should see my girl mama. She looks a lot like us, she has our eyes. She reminds me of you even in her young age. She likes to dig in the dirt and pull out the flowers. She thinks she is weeding. And, yes mama, I am trying to teach her just like you taught me, but she doesn’t like to listen all the time.

I need to thank you mama, for all the love you gave me because now I know how to give it to her. I hope I give her enough to help her through her hard times just like yours helped me. I hope she can carry it with her and pass it onto her own family.

Remember these mama?

image

They were the butterflies you pulled off of the grill of uncles’ truck when he came for a visit. No mama, it isn’t gross, and don’t tell me to throw them away. They have kept well all these years between the glass and they remind me of you. You touched these wings , you preserved them, you found beauty in their death. I keep them beside my bed as a reminder of the lesson and I hope you have found beauty where you are too. xoxoxoxox

Coming Clean

Writing101 Day8: Expand a Comment into a Post

“This past year I took my procrastination to a whole new level and turned it into complete and utter avoidance.”

I was actually quite ambitious last fall. I made a list of some home renovation projects that I felt I could tackle during the cold winter months. My goal was “simple” – reinsulate, re-poly the basement, and apply a roll of P2000 or equivalent. My aim? To make my home more energy efficient. I would save on heating costs and, as an added bonus, I would be able to restructure the containers that are strewn about the basement floor. I knew it would be a daunting task. I broke it down into manageable sections and resolved to tackle one small space at a time. I set about, eager with my plan, and finished off the first area with a satisfied gleam in my eye.

The problem occurred when I moved on to the next section…

As I began to sort through some of the boxes, I became lost in their contents. One hour would turn four. Sentimental feelings over the trinkets that I would find would wash over me. I would smile and place the possessions back into the box.

 A month passed by and I had not accomplished much. I abandoned my efforts and moved them to the main floor. I began to declutter my daughter’s room – bagging up the clothes that didn`t fit and boxing up the toys that she wasn`t playing with. When I took those upstairs, I realized there was very little room up there too.

As a new parent, I was grateful when other people donated their clothes and toys. I would hate to have to open my wallet and spend my money on anything if I could get it for free. I was reluctant to give any of those belongings away – maybe we will have another child, maybe she will want to play with this rattle for five minutes again; I can`t give that away, my sister bought it. As a stepmother of two older daughters, I was reluctant to get rid of some of the boxes of dishes and extra appliances that are downstairs. What happens if the girls need something? They might want that pot one day; they might need a four slice toaster for their bachelor pad; they might need twenty saucers.You know what? The girls live three hours away. When they needed a set of dishes, they went to Walmart and bought their own!

I came to the conclusion that I was a hoarder . My excuses were ridiculous. I was overwhelmed! I burnt my to-do-lists and enjoyed life. I ignored all of those things I didn`t accomplish. But they never left the back of my mind; they seemed to linger and quietly nag me.

At least being able to go back to the source has helped me to face it and start again. Thank you Brooke, for creating the starting point. If you would like to join our conversation as we tackle our chronic procrastination issues, please visit us there. And thanks too, to Hoarder Comes Clean, for the motto “one box at time.” It seems less overwhelming when you look at it that way.

Where I Write

Writing 101: Day 6 – Where do you write?

Usually? On the left hand corner of my blue couch in the living room. My knees are bent, my coil notebook sits in my lap. Everyone is asleep.The house is silent except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan. As far as utensils… I always have a bit of sugar to help push me past any fatigue I may feel – small sips of Pepsi, a few Smarties to help keep me energized. I must confess that I have stolen the Paper Mate Ink Joy pen from work. It is fabulous to write with, incredibly smooth and has a soft, comfort grip that begs me to hold it. A 1986 copy of “The New Roget’s Thesaurus” sits beside me. The back cover has been lost years ago; the green spine so tattered and torn that the title is unreadable. That thesaurus traveled with me for over twenty years waiting to be used. I am grateful that this blog has given me a reason to fan out its pages and inhale it’s musky scent.

Part two of this assignment requires that we insert a poll, so I will leave you with a simple question.

*Thanks,in advance, for taking the time to read and vote. Much appreciated. Happy Tuesday everyone!*

Stellar Challenge

I just find this so much fun. Please take a minute to visit Nicola’s Stellar Six Word Story Challenge for the full details.Today’s prompt is..
Rebellion.

I am stealing my response straight from my daughter’s mouth.

“No! I can do it myself!”

Are children born just to teach you lessons about yourself? I love being able to be independent, I love ‘doing things myself’. And yes, I have trouble even asking for help. I didn’t realize how annoying this could be until I had a child of my own. My daughter said this to me as she was struggling to get out of her sweater. She had, essentially, trapped herself in it. Her elbows were locked above her head, the sweater was pulled half way up. I could see the expression on her face through the sweater; her mouth and nose pressed firmly against the cloth. She wailed and cried, swayed from side to side until she lost her balance and fell to the ground, crying.
“Oh honey” I said, as I began to peel off the layers, “Sometimes, it’s okay to ask for help.”

Things I Like

Written for writing 101, day 2: make a list of things you like.

I love a lot of things but these are a few things that I like….

  • a good dose of coffee in the morning. Actually, I really like flavored coffee creamers. I am not sure if I would drink coffee without it.
  • one can of Pepsi in the afternoon.(I limit myself)
  • not matching
  • eating cereal in the evening
  • hats and hair clips – you can never have a bad hair day with them

Sorry this list is so short, but there are other things I would like to do.:)

Sunshine Blogger Award

This past week I was nominated by Afternoon of Sundries for the Sunshine Blogger Award. Have you been to her site? She is a dedicated blogger, a mother, and a teacher who is passionate about her work (and much more but you will have to visit her to find them out). Thank you lovely lady, for thinking of me!
The rules are simple, I must nominate 10 people, thank my nominator, and create
questions of my own. Her questions and my answers are below…
1.If you could channel your soul into a spirit animal, what would it be and why?
A horse.

 I would be stubborn enough to pose a challenge, gentle enough to take you for a ride and smart enough to buck you off when you piss me off.

 2.Who do you secretly stalk online?

I am not so secretly stalking a lot of bloggers right now. Does that make me a psycho or just dedicated to blogging?

 3.What is your power outfit? The get up you wear to make yourself feel confident!

Jeans, a tight-fitting tank top and these shoes.

No, they are not comfortable, but they are yellow!

What? Did you think it would be something fancy?

4.If you could make one wish consequence free, what would it be and why?

For my hubby to have his man cave. I mean his super-deluxe shop. I am not looking forward to putting in the hours to get that baby up.

5.What musical instruments are you proficient in, or wish you were proficient in?

None. I can play two songs on the harmonica and three songs on my ukulele – Riptide by Vance Joy, Prayer in C by Lily Wood (the finger picking part) and Stand by Me by Ben E. King.

6.What is your guilty pleasure TV show or movie?

WordPress is currently my guilty pleasure. I haven’t watched TV in a long time.

7.What is your favorite food?

Chocolate.

8.What book is your favorite read and why?

Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes. If you have read it, you will understand why.

9.What do you do for a living?

Vet tech/manager of a busy, mixed animal practice. I love my job. My days are unpredictable. I never know what species I will encounter, what surgeries we will perform or what diagnostic tools I will utilize from day-to-day. Love it!

10.What languages do you speak?

English, English and more English. I used to know some Spanish but the language is lost now…

The blogs I stalk (a.k.a.my nominees) are below. The one thing they have in common – quality content! Sensational stories, heartfelt poetry, fabulous photos and, of course, some recipes to round it all off. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. ☺

Sometimes Stellar Storyteller

Crashingstone

Darkwriter

Musin With Susan

My OBT

Jennifer Nichole Wells

a cooking pot and twisted tales

lynz real cooking

Feeding on Folly

Anand’s Caricatures and Parodies

And here are my questions…

1.Name one aspect of yourself that you would consider quirky/odd/amusing/weird.

2.What do you do to relax/unwind.

3.Name one thing that is vital to your daily routine.

4.What is your favorite color?

5.How many posts do you have in your drafts?

6.Regarding blogging: are you…
a) obsessed – you would be embarrassed to add up the hours you spend reading, writing, commenting etc. You also sneak a peek at WordPress while you are at work.
b) intermediate – there are moments when you can’t leave the screen, but there are also times when you don’t look at it for days.
c) you write your post and leave.

7.The blogosphere is most often read through
a) your mobile device
b) tablet
c) home computer

8.Name one possession you covet – something that if your children/friends/family wish to touch, you hover over them protectively, watching them to make sure they handle it delicately, if you allow them to handle it all.

9.Name something that you read, or do, that you feel enhances your personal growth.

10.Since I enjoyed answering this question…If you could channel your soul into an animal, what would it be and why?

Phew! El fin!

Until next time
Kelly ☺

For Whom The Bell Tolls

Written in response to Shafali’s Creativity Carnival picture below

 

Just my thoughts on this one….

Look at that spider, huddled in the middle of his home, comforted by the stillness of his surroundings. Is he waiting for that bell to ring? Is he waiting for the bell to toll signifying the loss of another loved one? Look at the rain, how it caresses the side of the bell, like tears cascading from above.

Sad to say, the only time I hear bells chime are at funerals. Furthermore, funerals, I think, are not how they are supposed to be these days. (Were they ever? Please enlighten me if that is the case.) They have turned more into a family reunion. A time where we gather to catch up on our lives. A meet n greet with a casket beside us.

Take for instance the most recent passing in my family – my Great Uncle Pete. He lived to the grand age of 92. It was a small gathering, with a typical church ceremony, and a quaint eulogy spoken by a dear family friend. Afterwards, we sat at tables, eating delectable dainties and asking each other questions. “What’s new? How are you? Are you enjoying retirement? ” Not a word was spoken about poor Uncle Pete. Not a word.

It fills me with guilt. Certainly we should have sat around and marveled over his life, his accomplishments? He lived to 92! Imagine the changes he had seen through out his life. And the knowledge he gathered? Should we not have shared some of his words of wisdom? He was always so happy to share what he knew. His mind was sharp up until his last breath.

I tried to initiate some conversation by asking questions about the stories he shared, but no one replied. They glanced over those questions just like they glanced over his body in the casket when they walked by.

Nope, not one word was spoken about the man we buried. Not one word.