Better to do something imperfectly
than to do nothing
flawlessly.
flawlessly.
~ Robert Schuller
Change
To be able to look at change
as an opportunity to grow -
that is the secret to being happy.
~ Joan Lunden
as an opportunity to grow -
that is the secret to being happy.
~ Joan Lunden
Eleven Questions to Where You Are
Good people can't stand the sight
of deliberate evil;
the wicked can't stand the sight of
well-chosen goodness.
Proverb 29:27
Are you familiar with the feeling we get having chosen a candidate
who's won?
Nothings feels like victory. Nothing feels so American as your candidate becoming president. In the beginning, there's so much hope, so much promise. As if everything good could finally happen.
This time will be different.
Many of us have felt the sting of disappointment when our hopes were dashed, when that individual didn't meet our expectation, or fulfill the promises from the campaign trail, or embarrassed us or our country.
Why do we even let our hopes get raised every four years?
We're like people who get severe hangovers from drinking and then show up at the bar for happy hour.
When are we going to get serious and realize that fallible people are running our country, that they have their own agendas, which seem so rarely to coincide with our own?
When will we as a collective whole realize, that men or women do not have the power to keep this Titanic country from crashing against icebergs, or from sinking?
Isn't it time?
Isn't it time for Americans who are always saying God Bless America, to do something to bless God?
What are we, or you, or I doing to make sure that God even wants to bless this country?
Who am I following, man or God?
Where is my hope being invested in, financial institutions or people?
In who's agenda am I becoming a pawn?
And, if I'm giving my life, am I on the right side of the board?
The Spirit of Music
They're Playing Our Song...
It doesn’t matter how many times I play the song. Every time I put it on, I think about the last time we met. And it all comes flooding back.
And if I stretch out my hand even a little bit, he is there to take hold of it. It doesn’t matter if I feel like listening to the song, because really, plenty of times I didn’t. There were days I didn’t even want to think about him, didn’t think I was up to meeting with him.
It doesn’t matter how rotten I feel.
Or if I feel worth it.It doesn’t matter how anxious, depressed, hopeless, hurting or mad I feel, he always shows up and I feel better. I feel changed. And you know, it’s kinda funny too. Because sometimes, the song will play on the radio and I think I see Jesus smile. I can almost hear him say, “Listen, they’re playing our song.”
It doesn’t matter how many times I play the song. Every time I put it on, I think about the last time we met. And it all comes flooding back.
And if I stretch out my hand even a little bit, he is there to take hold of it. It doesn’t matter if I feel like listening to the song, because really, plenty of times I didn’t. There were days I didn’t even want to think about him, didn’t think I was up to meeting with him.
It doesn’t matter how rotten I feel.
Or if I feel worth it.It doesn’t matter how anxious, depressed, hopeless, hurting or mad I feel, he always shows up and I feel better. I feel changed. And you know, it’s kinda funny too. Because sometimes, the song will play on the radio and I think I see Jesus smile. I can almost hear him say, “Listen, they’re playing our song.”
Chance
Chance is always powerful.
Let your hook be always cast.
In the pool where you least expect it, will be a fish.
~ Ovid
Let your hook be always cast.
In the pool where you least expect it, will be a fish.
~ Ovid
Eight Random Things
This is round one for me with Blog Tag. In this round, I get to tell you eight random things about me.1. I just finished The Disappointment Artist. I was disappointed.
2. I bought a huge bag of Eight O'clock coffee. I drink it at 6 a.m.
3. Chocolate gives me a raging headache, I never eat it or crave it.
4. After inheriting a musical instrument, I'm learning to play.
5. In order to read all the unread books I own, at an average of six hours per book, I would need to have 15 and 3/4 completely uninterrupted days.
6. If I lived in a parallel universe, twice as much would be getting done.
7. I prefer to shop for groceries on middle week days in the morning.
8. When I'm laying down to sleep I wonder if I would get more done if I worked all night and slept all day...
You're it! The eight bloggers I choose to tag are:
1. Jack in Xanadu,
2. KH Musing from the Tail of a Comet,
3. KP lounging in the Royal Forest Meadow,
4. Lorie of Colla Voce,
5. Sam in Miscellaneous,
6. RS @ Modern Musings and Toys,
7. Yofis Writes and
8. Naboo at Just Enough Education to Blog.
Hope to see some new posts soon! Here are the rules, if you'd like to participate in the Eight Random Things Blog Tag:
1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.
1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.
Take Two They're Small
Today is
National Punctuation Day!
Find out how you can celebrate this holiday.
Click here I think I'll go read Strunk and White...
Maybe, while I'm doing that, you could write one great paragraph using all the punctuation marks? I look forward to hearing how you celebrated this very important holiday.
Monday Brightener
My friend Karyl works in an office. I have a feeling she works pretty hard and like many, mondays seem a little bleak and the mountainous workweek sits between you and the next fun-filled weekend. When she sent this to me, I thought about all those people who could use a little smile on a monday, maybe every monday. Sometimes, just knowing you can have dessert on a monday on a break is a day brightener. Some of you will try this recipe.
I probably won't because there are some things so deliciously decadent, I choose to forget about them and this is one of them...It sounds like Office crack and I just don't want to get started... I've already considered the ways to make spice cake, carrot cake and (see why I won't try it?)
Let me know if you try this what you thought of it and if it was really as easy as it says.
Anyone out there planning to try this with Splenda??
5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE
1 Coffee Mug4 tablespoons flour (that's plain flour, not self-rising)4 tablespoons sugar2 tablespoons baking cocoa1 egg3 tablespoons milk3 tablespoons oil3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional) Small splash of vanilla Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.Pour in the milk and oil and mix well.Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla, and mix again.Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts. The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.EAT! (this can serve 2 if you want to share!)
And why is this the most dangerous cake recipe in the world? Because now we are all only 5 minutes away from chocolate cake at any time of the day or night!
I probably won't because there are some things so deliciously decadent, I choose to forget about them and this is one of them...It sounds like Office crack and I just don't want to get started... I've already considered the ways to make spice cake, carrot cake and (see why I won't try it?)
Let me know if you try this what you thought of it and if it was really as easy as it says.
Anyone out there planning to try this with Splenda??
5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE
1 Coffee Mug4 tablespoons flour (that's plain flour, not self-rising)4 tablespoons sugar2 tablespoons baking cocoa1 egg3 tablespoons milk3 tablespoons oil3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional) Small splash of vanilla Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.Pour in the milk and oil and mix well.Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla, and mix again.Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts. The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.EAT! (this can serve 2 if you want to share!)
And why is this the most dangerous cake recipe in the world? Because now we are all only 5 minutes away from chocolate cake at any time of the day or night!
September 22nd is Family Dinner Day.
There were six kids in our family. While we grew up, it became my father’s burning desire to build a house in the country. Dad became fanatical about saving, so it was lights off if you weren’t in the room, don’t leave the water running, six kids bathe in one tub of water, privately, starting with the cleanest ones first (usually my sister and me). I don’t remember there being much in the way of exotic food at our house, mainly your typical Midwestern meat and potatoes, starch/protein combos. (I didn't have my first taco until I was in my teens. ) Occasionally a serving a day of fruit, not necessarily fresh and in the summer, salad with orange French or Italian dressing .I don’t remember the concept of seconds except at Thanksgiving. We didn’t eat until we were full, we ate to stave off hunger. Even though I ate three times a day, I felt hungry a lot. Kids didn’t get snacks. I developed a keen sense of finding food. We knew where all the vineyards were, where all the apple trees were, and depending on how hungry I was, I ate them green. The other kids in the neighborhood said I’d get a bellyache but I thought, “Hmmmm. Hunger pains of stomach aches?” I ate them.
I soon figured out which neighbors gave snacks to hungry kids. Inez Casey used to give us candy. The hippies Phil and Julie used to feed me a little if I looked pathetic enough. One guy, Joe Baldino gave away bowls of hot food. Paydirt!
The Italians on our block would shared occasionally, but mostly served to make us more hungry by cooking with their windows open. Back then, no one had air conditioning, and everyone ate at home or with a family.
Back then, you started hanging closer to your house when moms was rattled pans in the kitchen. It meant dinner was imminent. At our house, you just didn’t miss dinner. At our house, my parents didn’t yell down the street for missing kids. If it was 5:30PM you were sitting in your seat at the table, hands washed. Only once did one brother come home late to dinner. He thought a quarter after five meant 25 after. And he was right on time according to his logic. Eating with family has always been important to me. What I’m finding out it that it hasn’t been true for everyone.
National Family Dinner day is where you make a point to eat with your family. I was struck by how odd it seems that we have put it on the calendar to remember to have dinner with our families. How did we get here? Any thoughts?
For what it's worth, we got our house in the country and a garden. And after my mom got a job, there was a lot more food to go around.
Smiley Face
I take my smiles where I can get em.
Hope your day is going well and life
is getting back on track.
Cowboy Coffee at Sunrise
Well, it's been years since I've been camping. But I'm glad that the knowledge seems to arrive in my head just as I need it. It's been a really long time since I had to light a lamp to cook on the grill too. Bet you didn't know you could make eggs and toast on the grill...did ya? I'm REALLY glad we got the grill with the side burner. The day we got it I couldn't imagine what we'd use it for.
For those of you who were without electricity and jonesing for a cup of hot java I offer you the recipe for Cowboy Coffee:
Fill a pan with water. You'll have to measure it so you 
know how much coffee to add. Measure out your coffee. I use a scoop for every two cups and one for the pot. Boil. I don't mean simmer. I mean rolling boil. And when all the grounds drop to the bottom of the pan, it's ready to drink.
know how much coffee to add. Measure out your coffee. I use a scoop for every two cups and one for the pot. Boil. I don't mean simmer. I mean rolling boil. And when all the grounds drop to the bottom of the pan, it's ready to drink.It ain't Starbucks, but it'll do.
What was That?
This sweet little ride, mostly a Ford the owner tells me, has been seen parked in front of the coffee shop I frequent in Sunbury, Ohio.The Village Coffee Shop. Since the Ike Windstorm that passed through here Sunday, they've been cranking out oodles of cups of coffee. Get yours today! Who knows, you might even see the Ford Mutt.
Please Stand By....
You've probably heard all about it. The claim that Ike went through Ohio yesterday, pretty much undetected until power started blinking off all around the state.
I was supposed to have a lunch meeting today. Of course, here the towers are on the blip, and our power is out. It's like camping, only indoors. It's great if you like silence, which I do. What I don't like is how crystal clearly you can hear dogs barking from so far away.
And, we have no power still. Phones are going dead, laptops are tossing up their warnings about low battery!
AEP probably wishes they could take the phone off the hook. Especially after they announced that it could be up to a week until some of us get power. You can see people saying, "A WEEK??!That better not be me!"
Ever have the sinking feeling that it could be? Yeah...
So, If I'm not on here, it's beause of that. Today I'm working from Village Coffee. I might be tomorrow too.
I was supposed to have a lunch meeting today. Of course, here the towers are on the blip, and our power is out. It's like camping, only indoors. It's great if you like silence, which I do. What I don't like is how crystal clearly you can hear dogs barking from so far away.
And, we have no power still. Phones are going dead, laptops are tossing up their warnings about low battery!
AEP probably wishes they could take the phone off the hook. Especially after they announced that it could be up to a week until some of us get power. You can see people saying, "A WEEK??!That better not be me!"
Ever have the sinking feeling that it could be? Yeah...
So, If I'm not on here, it's beause of that. Today I'm working from Village Coffee. I might be tomorrow too.
Instant Awake
It’s been just over a decade since I awakened to the little voice calling me “Mommy”. It’s as if the word itself is the cue for a spotlight to shine on me. And heeeeeeeeeere’s ...Mommy!
I slept without moving, lulled by the cloudy sky’s faraway thunder and constant dripping rain outside our window. It’s the kind of sleep that makes you want to roll over and keep sleeping. The kind of beautiful not-a-care-in-the-world sleep where you’ve temporarily forgotten the work week has just begun. The kind of sleep that one wishes for on Saturdays and holidays.
But at six a.m. my youngest, now 17, tiptoed into my room, to my side of the bed. I’d slept past the 5a.m.wakeup time.
“Mommy?” I have slept through alarm clocks upon occasion. I have even forgotten to set them. and in recent years I’ve let my circadian rhythm, nearly perfected after all these years, wake me up at a now routine time. Very few things cause it to fail, sickness, time changes or jetlag, though I admit, all alarms have failed at some point. But my eyes never fail to pop wide open and my mind to be so crystal clear as the utterance of that single word.
“Mommy?” She surveyed my face trying to interpret if I was angry, worried or, really awake.
“What is it?” Thankfully there was no immediate crisis. Although her presence in my room meant something significant was afoot.
“There’s no coffee,” she said, stoneware coffee mug in hand. Then an afterthought. “And it’s 6 o’clock.”
I’m glad she gave me the important news first. And I was thankful for the unplanned extra hour of sleep. It made rushing around getting everyone ready for the day’s destiny a little easier to handle.
I slept without moving, lulled by the cloudy sky’s faraway thunder and constant dripping rain outside our window. It’s the kind of sleep that makes you want to roll over and keep sleeping. The kind of beautiful not-a-care-in-the-world sleep where you’ve temporarily forgotten the work week has just begun. The kind of sleep that one wishes for on Saturdays and holidays.
But at six a.m. my youngest, now 17, tiptoed into my room, to my side of the bed. I’d slept past the 5a.m.wakeup time.
“Mommy?” I have slept through alarm clocks upon occasion. I have even forgotten to set them. and in recent years I’ve let my circadian rhythm, nearly perfected after all these years, wake me up at a now routine time. Very few things cause it to fail, sickness, time changes or jetlag, though I admit, all alarms have failed at some point. But my eyes never fail to pop wide open and my mind to be so crystal clear as the utterance of that single word.
“Mommy?” She surveyed my face trying to interpret if I was angry, worried or, really awake.
“What is it?” Thankfully there was no immediate crisis. Although her presence in my room meant something significant was afoot.
“There’s no coffee,” she said, stoneware coffee mug in hand. Then an afterthought. “And it’s 6 o’clock.”
I’m glad she gave me the important news first. And I was thankful for the unplanned extra hour of sleep. It made rushing around getting everyone ready for the day’s destiny a little easier to handle.
Money for Nothing
I spent most of this week in some nostalgic music reverie, checking out all my favorite tunes on YouTube. Jeez. They had all of them. When I saw this one, I remembered the stereo war.
We lived in Orange Park and next to a girl who liked to crank up her stereo when her mom left for the night.
One night, she started. We turned ours up. She turned hers up. We turned ours up. We had just bought a new Technics stereo system that was so loud you could hear it all through the neighborhood. The speakers could have been used as apartments.
She turned hers up again. When I put this song on, I cranked it up to shake-the-windows. The guitar intro makes me smile like an idiot even now. Once the song was over there was dead silence from next door.
She never turned it up again the whole time we lived there or even look at us, for that matter.
We lived in Orange Park and next to a girl who liked to crank up her stereo when her mom left for the night.
One night, she started. We turned ours up. She turned hers up. We turned ours up. We had just bought a new Technics stereo system that was so loud you could hear it all through the neighborhood. The speakers could have been used as apartments.
She turned hers up again. When I put this song on, I cranked it up to shake-the-windows. The guitar intro makes me smile like an idiot even now. Once the song was over there was dead silence from next door.
She never turned it up again the whole time we lived there or even look at us, for that matter.
Meddle
This is a shout out to one of my favorite drummers and now favored Tech, a tune from Meddle
Seven years after the fact and I have to wonder at times if this wasn't the reason. It must be an American thing. I can't leave well enough alone. Enjoy the tune. I haven't heard it since I discovered writing on paper...
Seven years after the fact and I have to wonder at times if this wasn't the reason. It must be an American thing. I can't leave well enough alone. Enjoy the tune. I haven't heard it since I discovered writing on paper...
Too True Today
The Government is here to save the day.
All we need is a new four year saviour... Right?
How long till we figure out no one can save the day but the people in this country getting along? Thoughts?
Somewhere
I like this version of this song, a classic,
that I have always loved.
Kudos to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole.
And you will be treated to a week of video clips that are full of strange and wonderful meanings to me.
Displaced Ideal
A very very dear friend of mine has come into this recent Beauty Awareness conversation. She suffered for years from an eating disorder and is in recovery. She thanked me for sharing "this is who I am"* and my notes from a conversation with the author. These are the questions I gleaned from the book.
My personal answers will be posted on
the Radical Write next week.
(no photo of me, God save your eyes.)
My feamle cousin and I also are dialoging about this very topic. I think
every woman I know would benefit even from a brief look through this *book. Please find it at B&N under women's studies.
~~*~~
How long has it taken you to arrive at acceptance/love of your body?
How do you feel the media have affected the way
How do you feel the media have affected the way
women feel about their bodies?
What frustrates you or what would you like to change?
Has your body let you down or have you let your body down?
How have you supported your body?
What do you love about your body?
What frustrates you or what would you like to change?
Has your body let you down or have you let your body down?
How have you supported your body?
What do you love about your body?
Grand Finale
On Saturday of Labor Day weekend, I drove into the heart of Columbus for the Greek Festival held at the Orthodox Church. The ticket price covers all four days.
The first time I attended, I didn’t know Loukaniko’s from Loukoumades. Inside, we toured the Cathedral and tried to absorb the history of the church. The breath of Holiness still lingered in the gold -leafed iconography circling the ceiling. Their mosaics were beautiful and stunning.
After perusing craft vendors with blue and white flags, canvas paintings portraying the Mediterranean Sea, sailing, villages replete with window boxes of cascading flowers, domed roofs and narrow climbing stairs. The imported Greek jewelry made with abalone shell, gold and silver, the Greek Key patterns, crosses and the All Seeing Eye. Our first year, we stumbled upon George Skaroulis and bought his CD Sanctuary. Later at the bookstore we bought book marks. This year, in the book store, I found little Angel boxes.
Outside, the sun made a beautiful day feel all the more festive. The Hellenistic Singers performed while the musicians added a celebratory backdrop. The fragrance of charred meat perfumed the air. Some of the Vendors sold the standards: Gyros, Souvlaki, Loukaniko and Keftedes, and others sold delicacies like, Amigdalota, Baklava and Loukoumades.
For lunch, we were tempted by the Greek pizza, a crust topped with tomatoes, olive oil, black olives and feta cheese. But instead I chose the Gyro. We enjoyed listening the vendors speaking their native Greek amongst themselves, a language foreign to me. I felt as though we’d traveled overseas minus the bad airport experience and bumpy flight. Pasta Kok and Pasta Sokolatas were both delicious with coffee and Maria’s bakery offers a little over a dozen selections to pick from. If you enjoy Mediterranean food and you’ve never been to the festival, I recommend it. The church members make much of the food at home, the meat is flame grilled on site and couldn’t be more authentic. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
The first time I attended, I didn’t know Loukaniko’s from Loukoumades. Inside, we toured the Cathedral and tried to absorb the history of the church. The breath of Holiness still lingered in the gold -leafed iconography circling the ceiling. Their mosaics were beautiful and stunning.
After perusing craft vendors with blue and white flags, canvas paintings portraying the Mediterranean Sea, sailing, villages replete with window boxes of cascading flowers, domed roofs and narrow climbing stairs. The imported Greek jewelry made with abalone shell, gold and silver, the Greek Key patterns, crosses and the All Seeing Eye. Our first year, we stumbled upon George Skaroulis and bought his CD Sanctuary. Later at the bookstore we bought book marks. This year, in the book store, I found little Angel boxes.
Outside, the sun made a beautiful day feel all the more festive. The Hellenistic Singers performed while the musicians added a celebratory backdrop. The fragrance of charred meat perfumed the air. Some of the Vendors sold the standards: Gyros, Souvlaki, Loukaniko and Keftedes, and others sold delicacies like, Amigdalota, Baklava and Loukoumades.
For lunch, we were tempted by the Greek pizza, a crust topped with tomatoes, olive oil, black olives and feta cheese. But instead I chose the Gyro. We enjoyed listening the vendors speaking their native Greek amongst themselves, a language foreign to me. I felt as though we’d traveled overseas minus the bad airport experience and bumpy flight. Pasta Kok and Pasta Sokolatas were both delicious with coffee and Maria’s bakery offers a little over a dozen selections to pick from. If you enjoy Mediterranean food and you’ve never been to the festival, I recommend it. The church members make much of the food at home, the meat is flame grilled on site and couldn’t be more authentic. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
The Tree
I hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse, and after he had just finished a rough first day on the job: a flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric drill quit and his ancient one ton truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation... His face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
“Oh, that's my trouble tree,” he replied. “I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, those troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So every night when I come home, I just hang them up on the tree and ask God to take care of them. In the morning, I’ll pick them up again.” He smiled.
“Funny thing is, when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.”
On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation... His face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
“Oh, that's my trouble tree,” he replied. “I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, those troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So every night when I come home, I just hang them up on the tree and ask God to take care of them. In the morning, I’ll pick them up again.” He smiled.
“Funny thing is, when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.”
Plateau Crack
“We’re going to keep an eye on your cholesterol,” the doctor said three years ago. “At 195 It’s a little toward the high side.” I frowned. I had traded my bagels with a schmear for eggs and toast when Prevention magazine claimed people who eat protein in the morning lose more weight. No amount of walking, starving or exercise made a dent. Although I never expanded, things solidified or got mushier depending on activity level. I took up walking. Sporadically.Median level cholesterol was the only blemish on an otherwise clean bill of health, so I skipped doctors, until year three crept to its end. Gordo reminded me that he’s paying for insurance, tests and preventive measures that need taken advantage of before fiscal year’s end—ten days away.
A flurry of phone calls produced a flurry of appointments, all landing in the sacred week. After a fasting blood test, the doctor on the other end of the phone sounds concerned.
“Your cholesterol is 245.” WHAT? “I’m sending information about how to reduce it. We’ll check it again in a year. If it hasn’t changed we’ll talk about meds.”
There’s only been one change in my diet in the last six months. Eggs. I use olive oil or nonstick spray to medium-fry two eggs, skipping cheese and sausage. I toast two slices of multigrain bread no butter or spread, pile it up and eat it like a stack of pancakes. Sometimes I drink juice, I always have coffee.
Still, no one comments about my weight, othe unbreakable plateau for three years and there are no pre-diabetic indicators (thank God). So, I resolve to double check the types of fats in my snacks (Crackers have bad fats???) and nix the eggs.
The next week of mornings, standing in front of the fridge nothing sounds appealing. What do I eat now? I despise oatmeal, dislike cereal, and gave up my daily bagels for eggs and toast. Although a bowl of berries may get me through this fall, what will an oatmeal hater eat this winter?
Meanwhile, I’ve lost four pounds.
Milestone
Six months ago I thought a father passing away was the worst day of a persons life. But what I've come to realize is, that it isn't.
In the days that followed my father's death, it's the unexpected ways that I am reminded of him that cause my tears. Military holidays, rope knots, pine scented saw dust, running saws and Cracker Barrel. There will be many more triggers, and the memories will strike sometimes like a trickle and sometimes like a tsunami.
I don't think it's bad. My heart still feels like it's free-falling when there's a question that I want to ask him and he isn't available. I am conscious of his total absence in waves. For days on end I'm keenly aware, and on other days I almost forget.
But I won't ever really forget. It will just sting a little less everyday until the emotional triggers get pulled or the unexpected memory surfaces. If I'm crying, it's not all bad either. It doesn't mean I'm depressed. It just means he still touches my heart and his love for me wasn't wasted.
In the days that followed my father's death, it's the unexpected ways that I am reminded of him that cause my tears. Military holidays, rope knots, pine scented saw dust, running saws and Cracker Barrel. There will be many more triggers, and the memories will strike sometimes like a trickle and sometimes like a tsunami.
I don't think it's bad. My heart still feels like it's free-falling when there's a question that I want to ask him and he isn't available. I am conscious of his total absence in waves. For days on end I'm keenly aware, and on other days I almost forget.
But I won't ever really forget. It will just sting a little less everyday until the emotional triggers get pulled or the unexpected memory surfaces. If I'm crying, it's not all bad either. It doesn't mean I'm depressed. It just means he still touches my heart and his love for me wasn't wasted.
Are You the Newest Great Writer?
WRITE AND WIN 250,000$$
This is no time to be shy...If you got it flaunt it. It's time to cash in on those stories you've been saving for the grandkids, or when the statute of limitations ran out on your crimes, which ever's first. This is a legit site and the most astronomical prize for writing I have ever seen.
I think I might have a few to throw in the ring. Don't you?? I dare ya! I double-dog dare ya!
(Excerpted from Market Watch) San Francisco startup, FieldReport.com, is launching the web's largest writing contest with a $250,000 grand prize for the best short true-life story.
FieldReport.com is a new online community where storytellers compete for cash prizes awarded by the site's membership. In addition to the grand prize to be awarded on December 1, 2008, writers compete for 20 monthly prizes in categories as diverse as Brush with Fame, Animal Beings, and 36 Hours. Teen writers vie for the annual TeenReport $25,000 scholarship award.
"Everyone has a story to tell, and anyone can win," says FieldReport's CEO, William Petty. "FieldReport brings its members together over the most entertaining and meaningful content imaginable -- the true stories of their own lives."
FieldReport.com is a new online community where storytellers compete for cash prizes awarded by the site's membership. In addition to the grand prize to be awarded on December 1, 2008, writers compete for 20 monthly prizes in categories as diverse as Brush with Fame, Animal Beings, and 36 Hours. Teen writers vie for the annual TeenReport $25,000 scholarship award.
"Everyone has a story to tell, and anyone can win," says FieldReport's CEO, William Petty. "FieldReport brings its members together over the most entertaining and meaningful content imaginable -- the true stories of their own lives."
Unlike American Idol and Dancing with the Stars, FieldReport has no professional judges. FieldReport's unique software system enables anyone to participate as writer, reviewer or both. FieldReport's patent-pending Objective Community Ranking Engine combines a blind review process with an innovative rating system -- a significant departure from the simple voting systems used by other websites. The goal is to give every submission a fair shake by eliminating the popularity factor that skews rankings on other sites.
FieldReport was created by a group of San Franciscans who believe that, even within our new blogging culture, there are literally thousands of great writers who have yet to be discovered. FieldReport gives them a platform, while offering readers a great experience of true-life storytelling.
What do you think? You gonna at least try it?
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