January

 January

January seems to be full of winter drama. I can recall blizzards and other snow storms at the beginning of the year. My children can remember what a “polar vortex” is, especially when it kept them from going to school.

January is also marked by my dad’s passing 24 years ago. I was on Winter break during my senior year of college with sparkling dreams and aspirations. Ok, I don’t sparkle, but you can imagine the naive outlook of one who can have their whole life on track believing they understand what adulthood is really like. Just like subzero cold, it smacked me hard and made me numb. Time moved slowly and I had to struggle to not be frozen in that moment. Even though I was able to go through the motions of student teaching and graduation, it took me a long time to thaw out.

I see 2021 as a time to heal from the pandemic. There is so much mental health that needs to be strengthened or those who have been isolated, ill, or traumatized by loss. We have to weather a few more storms to get to that point, just like we have in the past and how we will in the future.

The KWL of 2020

KWL, for those who don’t remember it from their elementary school days, stands for

• K - What I Know

• W - What I Want to Know

• L - What I Have Learned

I haven't thought about KWLs and other teaching tools for a while, but the pandemic and the association of bad luck with the year 2020 makes me want to reflect as the year comes to an end. 

What I Know about 2020

What I know is that I came into the new year of 2020 with high hopes and expectations. I was looking forward to concerts like with Gone West in Chicago, trips with family on Spring Break and even the summer, visits to see family including one of my sister’s first visit to her childhood home in years. The greatest milestone was my son’s graduation from high school. After 13 years of schooling, nothing was going to hold him back.

What happened was everything started off well enough. Then the news of a virus spreading became more of a reality. We were washing hands and standing in lines for toilet paper. It wasn’t going to come to our small town, it wasn’t going to affect my family, it was going to stop before it got as bad as it did in China.

But it didn’t.

What I Want to Know About 2020

In some ways, I don’t want to think about this year, but it is going to be a part of our lives just like the polio epidemic was for my mother and the Great Depression was for my grandmother. What do I want to know? What are we doing to make sure that we don’t have to deal with this again? Will there be better protocol so that pandemics don’t spread to epic proportions? What kind of mental issues will come out of this and are we prepared for long term effects?

Did we learn anything?

What I Learned about 2020

I learned about perseverance. 

I learned about the importance of a core group of support like my best friends who check in to vent or to comfort. 

I learned that I touch my face way too much. 

I learned that remote learning is not the best for everyone, but it can help students in a bind.

I learned that we have technology that connects us in ways that aided many people whether it is communication, shopping, or entertainment. 

I learned that a community truly needs each other in order to endure.

I learned that I have less patience than I am given credit for.

I learned about the pain of systemic racism when I looked into the eyes of a young black woman who felt the weight of the world on her shoulders and lashed out to a person she didn’t know, calling them a racist. If there is anything I learned, it is that everyone reacts to race in different ways. Some will find strength in their experience and see it as their weakness. What does it take to change? It is not the same for everyone, just like it is not the same based on gender, ethnic background, socio-economic upbringing, or any other category of people. That being said, my eyes are open wider than last year, but I can’t see any solution just yet.

So yes, we survived 2020. I’m not setting high hopes for 2021 just yet because it may just be a year that I can show off my new collection of face masks. Whatever the next year brings, I hope we can continue to share it together, even with some distance apart. 

Do You Remember Me?

Photo by Paola Chaaya on Unsplash

Many years ago, I was leaving school where I worked when two teenage boys approached me by my car. One of them said, “Do you remember me?”

It was a small town that I did not live in, so if there was a student in that town, I knew them. Not to mention that the school where I taught was a K-8 school of 150 so you watched all of the students grow from tooth-gap wonders to awkward tweens. As he and his friend stood in front of me, I knew right away who it was.

Now, mind you, I could have said, “Dude, I would need amnesia to be able to forget you!” or “Nope, don’t recall.” Instead, I said, “Of course. You are on my Top 10 List of Unforgettable Students.”

He seemed stunned to be in that high of an honor, but there was something that did not seem to make that “honor” worthy of awe and esteem.  “I am?” he asked.

His friend, who I also remember from that class chimed in. “Is that because of the stunt he pulled in third grade?”

While his friend blushed, I agreed to that and a number of other things.  (To protect the innocent, I will not divulge his unique act that NO ONE in that classroom will forget. No one was injured, but I will say that instruction time was postponed for at least thirty minutes and an apology was necessary.)

Teachers cross paths with hundreds and thousands of students in their career life. There are those who you aspired to have your own children become and those whose names will never be considered for birth certificates no matter how common that name may be. Some of the stories about students never go beyond the teacher’s lounge for the day while others stay with you for the rest of your life.

This particular student makes the Top 10 for “The Incident”, but because I wanted him to succeed just as much as his peers. He was not a strong reader, but he had an interest of books. I was a reading coordinator at the time we met and I tried to have a variety of books for all ages and interests in my room. He had a fondness for joke books and the small school library couldn’t keep up with it. He would come into my room and asked to borrow a book. As with all of the students who would borrow my personal books, I would make them take an oath. They had to promise, with a hand on the book cover, that they would never do anything to damage the book on purpose or else they would be hung by the ceiling fan by their toenails. Once they got the giggle out of their system, they were off to enjoy the book.

His fondness for humor made him a perfect choice for The Day My Butt Went Psycho by Andy Griffiths. He would borrow it over and over again and I never discouraged it. One day he came to my room looking a bit scared. There was a tear on the back cover covered with a piece of transparent tape. As he rambled about how he dropped it and he tried to catch it and it just happened, I thanked him. He was confused. I explained that he showed great maturity in taking care of the problem and then to tell me what happened even though he took an oath. (Please, to think I can take a squirmy child over my head to attach to a ceiling fan PLUS find a way to attach their toenails to it? Why do you think I chose that oath?)

I gifted him that book. I don’t know much about his family background, but we were a low-income school. Not everyone invested in books for their homes when there were other financial concerns like mortgages, rent, utilities, and food. That day, he looked like it was the greatest gift in the world to him.

So yes, he made my Top 10 for many reasons, not just a bad decision made on the day I happened to be in his classroom. He joins a second-grade, red-headed girl who shocked me while student teaching when she looked over to the fifth grade boys in the hallway and said in her best Lauren Bacall voice, “Hello, boys”. Another member on the list was the fifth grade boy where I was a recess aide who would always come over and greet me to see how I was and to make sure that my boyfriend at the time was treating me nicely and being a gentleman. I asked him one day if he was going to be a lawyer, politician, or salesman. He looked at me with seriousness and maturity and said, “A lawyer, just like my dad.” Recently I saw that he won a local election, so I am proud of him for that too. If I didn’t remember his name and personality, his yard sign would have meant nothing to me.

Maybe not all of my former students make the Top 10, but I still remember many of them. Some of them have reached out and connected with me on social media. It is flattering that they choose to do that. While I have no other contact directly with the schools where I worked, it gives me a chance to get a glimpse in the life I used to know. I can still advise when they ask and they can keep me up to date on some of the other students with good and bad news.

Think about your Top 10 in any category. These people make the stories of our lives. You may have it written down, just like I did above for this student, or you may have it stuck in your head. Hopefully you have been able to let them know how much you appreciate them in their life. I told him that I was proud of how far he had come since grade school and hoped he was doing well in high school. I hope that he and many other students remember me. Maybe I won’t make their Top 10 Teachers, but I hope I made an impact.

Holiday Grief

Photo by Amy Reed on Unsplash

I’ve never been one to fully broadcast my Irish side. On most St. Patrick’s Days, you may find me in an obligatory green piece of clothing. Since I don’t wear as much green as I used to, it may be a faded t-shirt or green beads that I borrowed from my daughter.

However, in the past four years, St. Patrick’s Day has been bittersweet rather than a loud and rowdy celebration of Irish (or near Irish) heritage. Four years ago when my son was still in middle school, he lost a classmate, a teammate, and a friend in a horrible accident. I cannot fathom losing someone you see every day when you are so young. On this day every year, he does not think as much about green leprechauns and pots of gold. Rather, he and his friends are reminded of the empty seat in their classrooms.

As a parent, I had to think on my feet from that day on as I watched my son go through the stages of grief. The night it happened, his friend was supposed to be at soccer practice, but his friend never showed up. Through social media and news reports, we found out what happened. He went to bed knowing, but was numb from the sobering truth. I sat in his room because he had questions I didn’t know how to answer as he was dozing off. The next day, I made him go to school. He hated that more than ever, hated the idea of walking into a class and seeing his friend’s empty seat. I armed him with a hug and a pocket full of tissues. But the truth was that counselors were going to be there. The students were going to be there for each other for support. There is no support sitting at home watching TV or lying in bed refusing to see the sun that your friend would never see from Earth again. He thanked me later for making him go.

That night, he cried himself to sleep and made sure that we would go to his memorial service in the next few days. Those nights I felt like I was staying up with a newborn child all over again because sleep came so restlessly for him. There were times that his friends he hung out with after school asked me questions or just wanted to talk through their feelings. I stayed in touch with their parents going through the same thing I was. Sometimes those friends asked me to drive them to his memorial marker. The day after his funeral, the indoor soccer team started their championship game. After a tearful moment of silence, the forward bawled her way to a smashing goal upon the kickoff. It was the saddest, yet powerful team effort I have ever witnessed for such young players.

Grief is something that everyone has to endure in their life. When a life is lost so young, their friends may be struggling with it for the first time. While some children lose a grandparent, they think of it more as a circle of life when the old die when their time is up. The loss of a child from a terminal illness or tragic accident is even more difficult. Time may make it easier for them to learn about coping and moving on, but the memory never goes away. It is important to reflect on all of the positive memories just like it is important to give them time to grieve. Some children will talk while others will write, draw, or reflect. The role of the parent for me is to be there. My son’s friends talk with him because they say he is a great listener. At the same time, he needs someone to listen to him, which is often where I come in.

When I was in high school, one of my English teachers said that children and their parents only spend about six minutes of quality time together. I shared this with my parents and we just laughed in surprise at the statistic. Every evening after that, if there was some down time after dinner, I would sit with my parents on the screened-in porch or in the living room to just talk. Sometimes it was for six minutes, sometimes longer. I do what I can to have at least six minutes of quality conversation with my children on an individual basis so that we can talk about the mundane, the fascinating, or the important thoughts that are on our minds. These six minutes, a statistic that is likely to be much lower in the technology age, allows my kids to know that I am there for them no matter what with few limitations on topics. That includes dealing with grief.

If you have to share grief with your child, I feel for you. It is not something that you can truly teach a child. Rather, you have to take the journey of sadness with them as a guide. The rest is up to them to figure out as a part of growing up. If you are a parent who lost a child too soon, I see your grief and your guardian angel watching over you every day.

Losing My Senses

Photo by Cristiane Teston on Unsplash

A life without senses seems bleak and gray, like a flower without color or scent.

Writing has always been a descriptive means of sharing a life. Whether it is a memoir or an imaginative work of fantasy, a writer uses senses to tell a story and share a piece of themselves.  But nothing is more frightful when a story lacks that sensual connection between the writer and the reader.

When a story is void of a vision or a voice, the reader is more likely to stop reading and hide that book somewhere else.  A connection has to be tangible for a reader, even as far as the five senses as well as emotion. As I age today, I am more aware of the likelihood that my senses will dull.  My glasses script will get stronger.  My hearing may fade to the point that I may need hearing aids.  These things come with devices to help, but what about those senses that do not come with assistance?

One day many years ago, I lost two of my senses. The setting and situations that led up to the event were the perfect storm for a traumatic event. I was at the mall with my mother and I started feeling sick. The next thing I knew, I was in the emergency room because I passed out in the mall. Talk about your shop til you drop, except we hadn’t even started shopping yet. Regardless, I fell straight back and cracked my skull on the concrete floor. The doctor said that I hit my head in the right place so that I would not have pressure in my skull. It’s nice to know that I managed to damage myself in the best way possible, but it’s not very reassuring.  That is especially true for my mom who witnessed the whole thing. To this day I still have amnesia of the events including the ambulance ride though I am told I was alert and responding.

So the skull fracture healed and the concussion was resolved, but the damage to my olfactory nerves took much longer. Remember when you were little that you would hold your nose when you ate vegetables that you did not want to taste?  That is because your sense of smell and taste are connected. While the damage was not permanent, it took me months of tasteless foods and odorless objects before my brain even started reinterpreting the smells and the connections I had to them. I still had the ability to taste with my tongue; i.e. soup was salty, gelatin was sweet. Still, you may not realize how much it can be limited.

I had to go through the whole learning process at college because the accident happened a month before my freshman year. As much as I got along with my roommate, there were some moments that made me seem like the crazy one. For some reason, for example, the first time that they turned on the heat in the dorm, I SWORE I smelled raw chicken. The same was true in cars. In the dorm, it was impossible because there were no kitchens or cafeterias in the building. The most we cooked was microwave popcorn and ramen noodles. However, the smell in the car got to be so overpowering for me that I would have to hang my head out of the window in the middle of winter so that I wouldn’t get nauseous. Phantom smells were becoming commonplace. I found out later that this can happen when you have a head injury. Raw chicken may have been a phantom smell altogether. I would rather smell ANYTHING other than that. Vanilla, a man’s cologne, pine trees, something other than rotting flesh.

Not being able to smell had its advantages. When I would visit my friends in the guys’ dorm, I was never offended by the smells that came out of their rooms. Burping and farting contests? They may clear a room, but it had no effect on me. Then there was the time that my darling roommate had an itch for a prank war. She would put cream of wheat in my coffee creamer or shaving cream in my toothpaste. You can’t enjoy a good prank when there is no reaction to a taste. She eventually went on to target other girls on our floor.

Even though the doctor said that nothing was severed and I would get my smell back, it was a struggle wondering when it would happen and if I would get it right. I mean, raw chicken because of heating? That was pretty bizarre for a while. There were many of things I missed while I was coping without these senses. I LOVE garlic. Even the smell of grilled onions is like comfort for me. I missed these smells and tastes so much. Chinese and Italian foods were just fuel for the body without these flavors. I mourned their absence in a poem for one of my writing classes in college. My professor was easily entertained by my themes.

Today I would say that I am at 80% of taste, smell, and interpretation. Every now and then I will ask my husband what a smell is because I just cannot figure it out. One of the many things that have come out of this experience is my appreciation for the things we can smell and taste in life. I like knowing that I am odiferous and need to take a shower before I interact with others. I love the aroma of garlic bread in the oven. I also enjoy embarrassing my son when I tell him how nice the celebrities are at meet-and-greets as well as how good they smelled. (See previous post.) I may have olfactory issues, but I’m glad that I had the ability to reintroduce myself to smells and taste. This experience has made me appreciate them more.

Garlic and onions are for me

The aromas that deserve my revelry;

When smells are lost and taste not found

It clouds my world, so dull and down.

I’ll pass on decay, scorches and feet –

Those smells are not for me.

But daffodils, cologne, and cookies, I say

Bring life to my nose every new day.

World Read Aloud Day 2019

This year World Read Aloud Day is on February 1st.  I have been reading aloud to people for years whether it was my own children since they were born to the students in my classroom.  One year the school where I worked did a teacher swap.  I read to seventh graders instead of my usual second graders.  I brought in a picture book titled Once Upon a Cool Motorcycle Dude by Kevin O'Malley.  It was a story told by two very different students in their own voices as they had to work together to write their own story.  My voice changed between the sweet, innocent girl to the boy who sounded like he should have been riding the waves instead of presenting in front of a classroom.  Even seventh graders enjoy a read aloud, it seems.

I read to my kids until they were done hearing my voice.  My daughter is more into a Q&A session instead of books.  My son was a struggling reader so I did not hesitate to read to him each night, even when he was in middle school.  My husband wasn't a fan of that idea because he thought that middle school is too old to be read to.  Honestly, there is no time in which a person is too old for a read aloud.  Not only does it happen often, but the listeners benefit from a good story.

Jim Trelease wrote The Read-Aloud Handbook which has been revised into numerous editions.  It outlines the benefits of reading aloud at any age and gives a list of books that are great for reading it aloud.  Even though kindergarteners may not be able to read more than the basic sight words, they can sit and enjoy a read aloud novel like Charlotte's Web.

What are the Benefits of Reading Aloud?

• A love of reading
• Building vocabulary
• Developing background knowledge about their community and world
• Developing a bond between reader and listener

What are the Benefits of Reading Aloud to Older Readers?

Just like reading a picture book to seventh graders, I have worked with people who love to sit back, relax, and enjoy a story.  Seriously, what is the allure of audiobooks if not to be read to?  It is not just for teachers and parents, but also to other members of the family such as children or caregivers.  People can share newspaper articles, poems, stories, and other written work that is worthy of sharing out loud.  It can be modeled to children of all ages.  When reading aloud is consistent in daily life, it can be enjoyed for years to come as long as it is still enjoyable.

Struggling readers still enjoy books, but often it is challenging for them to read age appropriate books when they struggle with words or concepts.  Thick novels from Harry Potter to Percy Jackson have creative language that are Greek or Latin-based.  Readers can struggle through figuring out the word, but miss out on the enjoyment.  They are ready to drop the book and wait for it to come to film.  When the book is read aloud, the speed of the book is comfortable, fluid, and easier to comprehend.

What about older books like the classics?  A lack of proper grammar was part of the characters in some books.  Think Tom Sawyer and dialects used by Mark Twain.  One time I read aloud To Kill a Mockingbird to an eighth-grade class when I was a substitute teacher.  I had to read aloud the chapter of the trial in which Tom Robinson testified.  The southern dialect of an uneducated African-American defied everything students learned in English class.  It is like "Write this way, but read this way".  Yes, eighth graders have already learned how to read, and literature such as this showed character and culture that was not like their own.  By reading along as I read aloud, they spent less time decoding words and more time analyzing the content regardless of their reading ability.  And I got to practice my southern drawl.  Bonus.

Older readers are not just students.  I have read to my grandfather when he was going blind.  Back in the 1990s, audiobooks were available by mail from certain libraries, but they were not always what he wanted to know.  I have read aloud the Catholic Diocese history in our town, the beginning of the biography of a president of his alma mater, and the collection of one of his son's essays and poems.  He probably had the latter one memorized, but he requested a read aloud whenever I would visit him on Sundays.

My grandfather was an inspiration for the senior fiction I wrote with Jamie Stonebridge.  While it is age-appropriate and easy enough for some seniors to read on their own, it can still be read aloud to those who want to hear a story.  They are designed for patients with Alzheimer's or those who are recovering from a stroke.  Reading aloud is not just for the young, but for anyone who want to listen to a good story. 

What books do you love to hear read aloud?  What book did your children want you to read over and over?  Do you think there is an age limit to be read to?

Photo Credit: StockSnap

Feedback on my Freelancing Experience

I work from home.  I also work on the road.  I work when it is convenient for me.  The things that I do range from social media updates to researching my next writing piece.  Most importantly, I enjoy what I do.  

I'm not usually the first person to try new things, but as I talk about transitioning to freelancing and writing as a career, I have found myself advising friends and family about what I have discovered.  Now, this is usually the time in social media postings that bloggers, writers, and other freelancers hook interested parties to promote their workshop, webinar, and the like.  I'm not there yet, and I don't know if I want to be. What I will do is share what I have learned about two platforms that I have used.

Upwork

Since 2011, I have been a freelancer with Upwork when it was known as oDesk.  It is a platform where clients connect with freelancers in a variety of areas from writing to translation to customer service.  You can submit proposals to a job posting or wait for the jobs to come to you based on your profile.

It has worked for me because I have discovered how much I can do that I never thought of before.  Some of my clients have communicated so well that they have continued my education while I provide them suggestions and advice from my own experience.  Currently 60% of my clients are long-term and my client feedback has been 100%.

Upwork is good for supporting both clients and freelancers.  Their Facebook page keeps followers abreast on the freelance and self-employed population from around the world.  You can read advice from others and sometimes they have contests.  My coffee mug is one of my small wins.

If you wanted to become a digital nomad or just someone who can still make money from home during a polar vortex, it is a possibility.  It may feel overwhelming at first, but you may discover that you have something to offer.  You can see more about Upwork and even customer service options from this link.

Fiverr 

I found out about Fiverr in one of my husband's men's magazines.  (What can I say?  You read what is available sometimes. 😏). Anyway, I was intrigued by the opportunity to do any gig for $5.  I was already volunteering my services as a children's book quiz writer, so why not make money off of that?  Cheap for teachers, administrators, and such, right?

Well, it worked for a long time.  I had steady work for quizzes, and it opened doors to other work.  I connected with SmartKidzClub.  After working with them on their quizzes for their-books, we are working independently from Fiverr.  Now I have my children's book series with quizzes.  Fiverr has a variety of categories that can fit your skills.  You can sell products and services.  With an account, you can purchase them as well.  There are even ways to promote passive income.  Remember what I said about freelancers who promote their work with pre-made webcasts and handouts for clicking through?  My mother and I worked together for her ultimate guide to Paris.  Just send the PDF upon request and payment is confirmed.

I don't work through Fiverr anymore, but it was a good start for me.  It can also be more appropriate for someone else with a different set of skills.  You can find out more about Fiverr at this link.

Freelance work can be primary or supplemental income depending on how much time and energy you want to put into it.  It does get easier, especially when you discover what is out there.  However, there are some important tips to heed:

Always communicate with your clients 

Never undersell yourself

If it is vague or sketchy, you don't have to sign up for it

Enjoy what you do 

Do you work as a freelancer yet? Do you have any platforms or sites that have worked for you?  Please share your experience!

Small Wins

Throw some confetti - it's a win! (Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash)

I dabble in contests.  I'll enter text-to-win contests, social media giveaways, and other similar ways to win.  There is little or no risk in it because I'm offering my email or phone number, not the soul of my firstborn.  I don't gamble.  That is not a lifestyle I wish to afford.  Sometimes I win a prize.  I can be the winner of gift cards, promotional items, and even meet-and-greets with people who are more well-known than me.  I've met Cubs slugger Kyle Schwarber (nice guy, smells awesome) and then-White Sox pitcher Chris Sale (also a nice guy, taller than my husband, another great-smelling guy). 

I have scent issues, but that is for a post for another day.

They may call it a grand prize or first prize, and then someone will look at it like, "That's it?"  So some of the promotional prizes are less than "grand".  It annoys the pessimists who see these winnings in their half-empty glasses.  The optimists are a little too perky with statements like, "Well, it's a win!"  While the glass is half-full, it is not something that changes my world.

I don't enter contests with the full intention to win the grand prize of an all-expense paid trip to the Super Bowl, $100,000 to remodel my home, or the chance to spend five minutes with a megastar backstage at a major event.  Yes, they can be nice, but I'm not in it for that.  I'm in it for the small wins. 

When I was researching this idea of small wins, I came across an article in the Harvard Business Review from 2011 titled The Power of Small Wins.  Mind you, "Harvard" and "Business" are not two keywords that I look for in my reading material, but the article was actually interesting when it comes to motivation in your work.  There is a whole psychology about bosses and managers keeping their teams engaged in their tasks.  Making progress can make a difference in the workplace, even if it is a "small win".

As a college student, I was looking for ways to get my name out in the world.  A byline in a magazine or poetry journal was the only way that I knew how.  Submitting my poetry was like gambling - I was taking a huge chance that I could be accepted and published, or I could go down in flames for reasons of "not what we are looking for" or "we are not accepting at this time".  However, every time that I could publish something, it was a small win for me.  My name was out there, I was sharing a piece of my imagination and experience with readers.  If I got paid, it was small, but it was still a win.

Each "win" in writing has been a stepping stone.  It is work experience and publications on my curricula vitae.  It is also my motivation to keep going and keep trying.  These milestones are the encouragement I need to keep setting my goals for something more while I am still finding joy in them.  This kind of happiness was not as frequent in my other jobs in life.  While I had my wins and can see the results in my former students, the gratification does not feel the same.

So I will keep entering contests (maybe even start one of my own) and get my fix on small wins there.  I'll also be working on my small wins in writing.  Once I finish my landmark series for Smart Kidz Club, I'm thinking about another series with Patriot the tour guide eagle.  Maybe I'll step away from books and find my riches in other forms of writing.  If I am happy, then I am winning.


Contest prizes big or small,
try as we may, we can't win them all;
but when the win is what you do,
it is always a big deal to you.

It all started in a bar...

Nice title.  Sounds like something out of a country song or romance novel. 

Actually, it is about a hobby.

No, not drinking.  Too obvious.  Not smoking either.  Those things started earlier than that, like behind a convenience store with other teens. 

No, it's painting.

Not so obvious, right?

Seriously, today's adult entertainment is more than a smoke-filled bar with pool tables and flashing neon signs.  People of all backgrounds are being enticed with activities ranging from poker runs to zumba classes.  Even recently a nearby church advertised an adult beer and Bible study at a local tap room. 

For me, I found painting in a bar.  After writing became a career instead of a hobby, I needed another way to be creative that was different from what I did on a regular basis.  I remember watching PBS with Bob Ross and other master painters creating visions of nature using multiple shades of colors that transformed their blank canvas.

I can draw an awesome Garfield.  My palm trees look like feather dusters.

So the bar that I am talking about was actually a painting class that was BYOB - bring your own bottle.  It could have been wine or beer, they were not picky.  They only asked that you did your best not to dip your brushes in your drink.  The instructor sounded like she had some previous experience.  So I dragged my mother-in-law because she had been to painting classes before and had the best wine carrier for our bottles.  My sister-in-law joined us because she thought it would be interesting.  Wine was a bonus.

I don't know if it was the alcohol or the paint fumes, but I had a blast.  We laughed, we brushed, we made mistakes and we learned how to fix them or achieve happy accidents.  When the BYOB events became fewer and fewer, we looked into the ones set in bars.  Acoustics were terrible and we were not in control of the music volume.  Not to mention the drinks cost as much as the bottles we brought in before.  Still, I keep searching because painting gives me a kind of zen, that meditative trance as you watch and transform a blank canvas to something (hopefully) that is pleasing to the eye.  I also enjoy using someone else's brushes and paints because it takes the guess work and storage off my hands.

We did try painting at home.  Here is the result:

I know, he is quite handsome.  Those painting classes have paid off.  I get a few hours of a trance that is less greasy than a massage and I get to express my creativity in a visual medium.  Sometimes I share my work.  

It is important to try new things and follow passions.  I didn't take art in high school or college because I followed other pursuits like music or language.  Maybe I missed out on something.  Still, your hobby does not have to be related to your work.  In fact, it can be the furthest from your occupation as long as it brings you happiness and some kind of release from the daily grind.

Let me know what your hobby is.  Maybe you'll inspire my next one.

Determination

This is the first year that I have heard about one-word resolutions.  Maybe I was not paying attention since it is a concept that has been around for years.  Maybe I was skeptical.  Probably skeptical.  

I'm not big on word boards and inspiration webs.  Webs clutter my mind like they clutter the corners of my ceilings. But I always saw myself as a multifaceted individual with numerous interests that branched out in many directions. How could one word tie in my goals for the new year?

I answered a social media question of a friend of mine on whether I list goals or focus on one word or phrase.  I confessed to my list, but maybe there was one word - determination - that resonates in my mind when I think of goals.  I am determined to improve my health.  I am determined to become greater things in my writing career.  I am determined to find order in my life.

So my friend has encouraged me to make it my word for 2019.  I think he is right on this one.  It provides me with more of a purpose of why I want to do more for myself and where I am going to find the strength to do so.  Everyone can have their own word, and the members of my family have their own purpose if they set goals for themselves.  Someone may choose "determination" as their word of the year.  However, I chose it for me rather than have it dictated to me.

I still need my milestones and clear goals so that I can have something to achieve.  I have numbers that are measurable and timelines that are reasonable.  So I can keep my list to help me visualize what I can achieve.  No matter how I do it, I am determined to be more than I was in 2018.

Determination is my light

That illuminates my way

To health, wealth, and wisdom

All year or just one day

Determination can never outline

The steps that I must take,

But rather the strength and focus

To be the success I make.

Image Credits: mohamed_hassan 

Reflections

Happy New Year to you and yours.  Did you make any resolutions this year?  I do make goals for myself every year.  One of those is to be more consistent in my blog, so here is the first of many to come in 2019!

The past few weeks have been a time of great reflection for me.  There have been holidays, anniversaries both happy and sad, and reunions that have been years in the making.  Anyone who I have gathered with has me thinking about the past, present, and future.

Now, anyone who knows me personally knows I am a very reflective individual.  It shows easily on my face.  Some are patient to see what I contribute to a conversation.  I remember one professor in  college who saw that reflective look on my face and asked my opinion on a topic.  I know she did not expect my candid response with an example to back my observation.  I believe she was more cautious as the course went on.

Reflections are a good source of writing material.  It was actually the title of the self-published poetry collection I made for my family a few decades ago.  My reflections of adolescence, young adulthood, love and loss filled the pages and allowed my loved ones to understand the joys and pain I could not tell them in words.

My creative works of late has been less of reflections and more of an intellectual pursuit.  Landmarks of the countries written for kids, a day in the life for seniors, even the start of historical fiction based on stories of today's octogenarians, they fall short on my reflections.  Maybe that should be another goal on my list of New Year's resolutions.

I look in the mirror 

And what do I see?

The reflection of a writer

Emerging from me.

Her eyes have seen sadness

Yet shine with such wonder;

Her words are soft-spoken,

But her pen is like thunder.

Where Has Time Gone?

Photo Credit:  annca

It finally dawned on me that October is more than halfway over and I have been slacking on my blog.  It's not you, it's me.  No, we are not breaking up.  It has been nice knowing that someone is interested in what I have to say. 

We all know that it is hard to find the time to do everything we need and want to do.  Sometimes these things never get done.  Before we know it, we fully grasp the line in a Luke Bryan song "Days go slow and years go fast".  We have to enjoy everything that we do or else we will never get that time back.  I quit my full-time job in 2009 so that I could be there for my family rather than have my 2+ hour commute take it from me.  Now I can say that I know more about my children instead of having others tell me about them.

Time still gets away from me.  I do keep a busy work load, and it's my work ethic that keeps me more organized with time management.  I know how long my children's books will take me to research and draft.  I know I have to walk away from my senior fiction so that I can find the direction that works best for my characters.  Before long, it's time to take the kids to soccer or whip together dinner.  At the end of the day, I know I have been productive.

As I talk about time, I think about another moment coming up that takes time.  I've announced my novel for NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month starting November 1st.  I think the longest piece I have ever written was my senior paper for a history class.  It was nowhere near 50,000 words, but it was full of content, research, and answers to questions I had about the topic.  Right now I'm planning on fleshing out a young adult historical book.  It's going to have more bone structure and muscles than flesh, but it will be closer to a novel worth sharing than what I currently have on my computer.

What am I going to need?  Time, patience, maybe a support group to remind me why I want to do this.  Wine?  Probably not too much if I am writing for youth.  I plan on checking in,  Are you taking the novel-writing challenge this year?  I'd love to have a buddy there to keep me motivated.  It's time to prepare!

From the sands of time
to the smartwatch on your arm;
don't let life pass you by,
don't wait for its alarm:

Life is full of wonder,
experiences and fun;
in time you will have these,
before time says you're done.