readerwritergirl

#91 Fun with Photos

2010-07-20T10:39:00.005-05:00

#89 Basic Photo Editing

2010-07-16T10:10:00.003-05:00

Okay, I went a little crazy with this one (in a good way!) I decided to try Picnik to edit a photo of my cat, Zoey. I added a border to the original photo, a heart "sticker" in the right corner and created text along the bottom of the photo to match her "attitude." It was lots of fun, super easy and saving the edited photo to my photo file was a snap.

Two Photos - Too Funny

2009-06-20T22:15:00.009-05:00

The only happy people I know are people I don’t know well. ---Joseph Telushkin

You’ve heard it. I’ve heard it. We’ve all heard it – many times.

Laughter is the best medicine.

The old saw has proved true for me on too many occasions to count. No matter how sad, lonely, angry or frustrated I’ve felt – and believe me, I’ve had my fair share of hit-rock-bottom days (weeks, months!) – all it takes is a good laugh, often at myself - the drama queen having a moment – and I’m better. Not all better, mind you, but at least a bit better, and that’s a start.

I’m blessed with friends, who share my sense of the ridiculous (and then some); Gracie the Dog and Zoey the Cat, who never fail to amuse at just the right moment; and an extremely astute therapist, who once prescribed an episode or two of Frazier every day to help beat the blues – advice I’ve heeded with excellent results. On occasion, often when I’m surfing the Internet, I’ll come upon something that makes me laugh, as well, and every now and then also teaches me a lesson.

Ten months ago, I wrote an essay title Managed Perfection. I’d been reading a blog written by a woman I’d never met, but who was of interest to me because of her relationship with Burning Man Traveling Companion (BMTC). Intelligent, accomplished, energetic, a business entrepreneur with contacts throughout the local community, she seemed to be perfection personified living the perfect life. Eventually, I realized that, of course, she had to seem perfect. She was using her blog to advertise her services, and she had to sell herself if she wanted to sell those services. Her posts were a part of her story, but not the ups-and-downs, warts-and-all story that makes up the real life we all live, no matter what we’d like other people to believe.

It was all a fantasy, and I knew it, but that fantasy lingered in my mind. Surely she had to be someone really special – hadn’t BMTC pulled out all the stops pursuing her? Surely he'd also had to change his ways to attract such a paragon of womanhood, who was also 10 years younger than he. The man I'd known had lived off women one way or another most of his adult life, but this woman didn't seem like the type to put up with that kind of behavior.

One of the prerequisites for writing fiction is a vivid imagination and, oh boy, do I have one of those. I’ve always enjoyed creating “characters” and giving them a story, something I did on a regular basis writing as Nikki Benjamin. Thus creating the “character” of Ms. Managed Perfection was a natural progression for me.

I’d seen only a small head shot of her, looking serene, but it was a place to start. I imagined that, as a voice teacher, she would certainly sound lovely (and she does on her Web site podcasts). Since she teaches what I’ve assumed are similar-to-yoga-style exercise classes, I was also sure she was slender and athletic like every yoga teacher I've ever seen. BMTC is only 5’7” so she’d have to be petite, as well, and – let me repeat - slender. The man I’d known for nine months did not like overweight women and really dissed them in a mean and sarcastic way – so, yes, she had to be slender for sure.

In short order, I’d created a fairy child princess – a serene yet energetic and perky got-it-all-together-in-every-way little blog-world nemesis.

You’ve heard it. I’ve heard it. We’ve all heard it – many times.

One picture (or two or three) is worth a thousand words.

More than that, one photo (or two or three) can be all it takes to crash-and-burn a fantasy with a reality that leaves you clutching your sides, howling with laughter, at yourself and your foolishness.

In the months since I’d written my Managed Perfection essay, I’d gradually lost interest in the fantasy character (and the fantasy couple) I’d created. I’d come to realize that my life was exactly the life I wanted to be living, right here, right now, and I’d begun to focus on enjoying each moment to the best of my ability. There was no longer any room in my head for thoughts of a woman I’d never met and a man I hadn’t seen in more than four years.

Having learned to use the social networking tool Twitter a few weeks ago, however, I was eager to see if anyone I knew or had known was tweeting. The only ones I found were – you guessed it – BMTC and Ms. MP; and, oh my goodness, what busy lives they were leading, all of it shared via tweets many times each day. I found it extremely amusing – when did they have time to actually work in between thumbing all those tweets, scanning the Internet for pseudo-intellectual information to share and attending all those social engagements? But their tweeting was also understandable since Twitter has, in fact, become a major way to sell yourself and your business by constantly blowing, um, tweeting your own horn.

Good for them, I thought. They were sell, sell, selling themselves relentlessly down the stream and, oh by the way, photos of a workshop they’d attended were posted on Flickr.

The temptation was too much for me – I am, after all, only human, and a very curious human, at that. So I took a look and…OMG!!!

The photos, for me, were like a roadside wreck. You know you shouldn’t gawk, but you can’t tear your gaze away. My jaw dropped and then…then I started to laugh and laugh and laugh. Not at the two people in the photos – the two real people shot candidly in the midst of what appeared to be anything but real-life happy moments – but at myself and the now truly ridiculous fantasy that had plagued me well past its sell-by date.

Here was an aging-not-all-that-well man with a paunchy belly and a sour expression on his face (an expression I’d seen often in the past).

Here was a rather large woman, tall and obviously overweight, wearing ill-fitting clothes and big-mistake glasses, her lips pursed, her arms crossed over her bosom (body language I recognized, as well).

Here were two people, supposedly together, yet not looking particularly happy about it – standing apart, sitting apart, gazing off in opposite directions.

Here was a slice of their real life caught on a digital camera, and it was so not the fantasy I’d conjured.

Interesting how life offers lessons at the exact moment we are ready to learn them. A year ago, I hadn’t been ready to let go of my fantasy. It seemed so…perfect. They seemed so…perfect, and I’d been envious.

Of course, I didn’t know them – or myself – quite as well as I do now….

My Brilliant Career(s) Part Two

2009-06-15T16:15:00.005-05:00

You make the choices you make based on what you know about yourself and what you think you know about the world. And sometimes the world will turn around and break your heart, but other times...the reality of what you wound up with will suddenly seem like the only possible choice - it just couldn't have turned out any other way. ---Lisa Kogan

Emily’s House was published by Silhouette Books in June 1989. I deposited my first check from the publisher in a bank account with my name and my name only on it. I had finally earned a little money (very little!), and I intended to have a say over how it would be spent. My husband was furious about the bank account, but for the first time in 15 years of marriage I refused to back down. That bank account and my writing not only became the lifelines to which I clung as my marriage deteriorated, but also afforded me enough faith in myself to file for divorce shortly after my 50th birthday.

With 20 published novels to my name, divorced four years and trying desperately to get over the end of my relationship with Burning Man Traveling Companion, which had wounded me deeply, writing wasn’t working for me anymore. I was spending way too much time with imaginary people, I’d been “orphaned” at my publishing house, my agent seemed only vaguely interested in my works-in-progress, and the cost of health insurance, not to mention the cost of “supporting” Burning Man Traveling Companion for nine months, had taken a serious bite out of my savings. I needed to get out of the house. I needed to be with real people. I needed a dependable source of income. I needed a job with benefits.

In October 2005 I answered an ad for a reporter at the Observer Newspapers. I had no journalism experience at all, and I’d never written a news story in my life. But, really, I wondered, how hard could it be?

I got the job, and because the editor scared me half to death, I learned really fast how to write news stories – eight to 14 news stories each week, to be exact. I also got a social life, attending events all over Houston, then writing about them for the paper. For several months, I had the privilege of being the senior writer for Greater Houston Weekly, interviewing people like Milo Hamilton, Dr. John Lienhard and Wanda Sykes, reviewing restaurants and attending opening nights at various theaters around town. With an editorial change at GHW, my focus returned to the Obserever Newspapers, where I took on the job of police reporter. I loved having the opportunity to hone my skills and take my writing in a new direction, but the stress of looming deadlines week after week for more than a year, coupled with increasing editorial and staff changes, was also making me crazy.

When a job offer writing copy for a small local advertising agency landed in my lap, I accepted it without hesitation. The salary was almost too good to be true - more money than I’d ever earned. The work, I assumed, would be good, too – different from anything I’d done, but fun and creative. In fact, it was anything but fun and certainly not my idea of creative. I sat in a cave-like office (we were “encouraged” to turn off the lights to save electricity) and tried my best to think up interesting things to say about an IT company and a division of Halliburton. The owner and the three other employees kept to themselves, so there was no camaraderie at all. The only face-to-face time I had occurred when the owner grilled me on what I’d written, then verbally tore it all to shreds. Three weeks into the job, I walked into his office and quit. Lesson learned: Sometimes the money isn’t really worth it. That job is by far the worst job I’ve ever had in my life!

Once again unemployed, I approached my former editor, who was in the process of starting her own community newspaper, The Tribune. I offered to help out any way I could with her fledgling effort, and she turned me over to her graphic artist, instructing him to teach me the fine art of page layout and design. To say 27-year-old Rico, a graduate of the Art Institute of Houston, was aghast is putting it mildly. But he manned up, gave me a crash course in Photoshop and Adobe InDesign, and introduced me to a whole new kind of creativity that I absolutely loved.

Looking at a page as art was new to me, and putting together the puzzle of words and pictures was a challenge. Your focus had to be intense – we worked with 80’s rock music blasting in the background so we wouldn’t be distracted by the chatter in the newsroom. That page – getting it perfect – was everything. For a while, I also interviewed people and wrote stories for the paper, but as I got better at layout and design, I gladly gave up the writing. I worked with Rico Thursday-Monday, then loaded stories onto the paper’s Web site and updated the Web calendar on Tuesday. I was into the art, into the photographs, into the graphics. I was creating in a whole new way, and I was revitalized once again.

So why did I leave after only six months? Partly because I was only a part-time employee earning a small hourly wage, and partly because a job opened up at the Kingwood Library, the one place in my neighborhood where I’d always wanted to work.

It’s been 36 years since I first moved to the Houston area, and signing on as a full-time circulation assistant at the Kingwood Library two years ago, I seemed to have come full circle. My job at the library is the right one for me – the perfect one for me – at this time of my life. My fellow staff members are kind, generous and supportive, and I’m honored to be a part of the team. I thoroughly enjoy sharing my love of books and movies and music with people of all ages. I have a steady paycheck, benefits, and a generous amount of time off to work on my writing and photography, to travel, to visit with friends and family. I laugh every day (and occasionally moan and groan!). Most important of all, I feel good – heart and soul good - about the work I’m doing.

But really, darling, tell me…is the library your career now?

My dictionary’s definition of career is: The general course or progression of one’s working life or one’s professional achievements. Another definition is: A path or course, as of the sun through the heavens.

Well, yes, my job at the library is part of the general course of my working life – all that has come before has gotten me to where I am now, one small, often courageous step at a time - and it’s a darn good place to be. But my job is so much more than that. It has not only widened my life in unexpected ways; it is also an especially sunny spot along the length of it.

It’s where I’m at on my path, my course, my journey through earth school, and right here, right now, it’s the only place I want to be.

My Brilliant Career(s) Part One

2009-06-15T13:11:00.005-05:00

I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well. ---Diane Ackerman

The question was posed several months ago by an acquaintance from my romance writer days.

“Is the library your career now?” she asked.

My initial thought was that I’d never really considered any of the many jobs I’ve had in the past 47 years a “career.” Since I began babysitting our across-the-street neighbors’ four raucous, under-the-age-of-six boys at the age of 12, the right work for me has always seemed to materialize at exactly the right time. But had any of the work I'd done ever evolved into a bona fide career?

I’d added part-time sales clerk at the local department store to my resume shortly after my 16th birthday. The minuscule paycheck and 20% discount made it possible for me to buy a really delicious prom dress and an old rattletrap car and also save for college. Then, as a freshman at the University of Missouri in St. Louis, living at home, I used my learned-at-summer-school typing skills to snag a part-time job as an office clerk at American Cyanamid. Five afternoons a week, 2-5 p.m., I typed, filed, telexed, key punched and worked the switchboard. Skills honed, I was then able to work full-time all summer, filling in as my co-workers went on vacation. The money I earned at Cyanamid and the promise of a holiday/spring break/summer job there the next two years allowed me to transfer to the University of Missouri in Columbia to complete my degree in secondary education.

Working at Cyanamid made me realize that I much preferred working with adults to working with children, so following my graduation, after a half-hearted attempt to secure a teaching job, I gladly signed on as a full-time permanent employee there. My salary was much higher than I would have made as a teacher, I worked with people I liked a lot, and I was more than happy to stay there until I married and moved to Houston two years later.

My first job in Houston – believe it or not – was as a circulation assistant at the Houston Public Library on McKinney. How I loved that job! The books, the people, the old (for Houston) building, with its eerie back staircase, all in the heart of downtown… I started thinking about getting a master’s degree in library science, but the closest college to offer courses was Sam Houston State in Huntsville, and my husband quickly nixed the idea. In fact, he didn’t like the hours I worked, which included some nights and an occasional Saturday, and he didn’t like my salary, which was pretty low. Trying to keep the peace in my very young marriage, I quit after only nine months.

Temp work for Kelly Girl led me fairly quickly to my next job as secretary, answering to a gang of engineers at Marathon Marine Engineering Company. I loved that job, too. I was earning lots of money and working with people who respected me and appreciated my efforts. Within a year, I’d advanced to administrative assistant to the company president, a job I enjoyed for more than five years, until I left…in a snit.

Thirty years ago, things were a little different in corporate America. The glass ceiling was much lower, and as a result, many intelligent women, including me, were “kept in their place” by the men who always seemed to be in charge of everything. Back then, it was okay for me to fill in for the office manager while he was on vacation, in addition to keeping up with my administrative assistant duties, but there was no way my boss was going to give me the job when it became available. Of course, I didn’t know that until I asked for the job, fully expecting to get it, and my boss, a truly nice man, told me as kindly as he could that the office manager’s job was a man’s job, and he was going to have to hire a man to fill the vacancy.

To his credit, Mr. Bradbury offered to pay me the same salary, but his “no, dear, you can’t have the job” knocked my legs out from under me. I was stunned. Then I was hurt. Then I was truly angry. A month later, having found a job as an administrative assistant to the owners of Harvey Travel, I resigned.

I’d always wanted to travel around the world, and the opportunity to get my foot in the door at one of Houston’s premier travel agencies seemed like a good one. The owners “promised” they would let me train to be an agent – my ultimate goal – but first they wanted me to organize their extremely chaotic, messy office and catch up on their piles and piles of correspondence. Four weeks later, mission accomplished, I told them I was ready to start my travel agent training, but I soon realized it wasn’t going to happen. They wanted me to sit quietly in my tiny office, rearranging travel brochures, typing letters to a son’s camp counselor and/or making restaurant reservations.

Three months into the job, I found out I was pregnant, and a couple of months later, unwilling to pass up a chance to tour California for three weeks with my husband, I gladly resigned.

For eight years I was a stay-at-home mom. There was nothing I wanted to do more, and I loved (almost!) every minute of it. My lack of income earned me second-class-citizen status with my husband, however, and that was a terrible place to be for someone who had always paid her way. When my son was four years old, my husband went so far as to tell me that if I wanted a say in how money was spent in our household, then I had to earn it. Of course, he also made it clear that if I went back to work, I’d still be solely responsible for the care of our son. He was too involved in his “career” and earned too much money to have to take time off to attend to doctors’ appointments or pre-school pick-up, and he had no intention of spending his vacation time at home simply because, having started a new job, I wouldn’t be able to get away.

I'd always been an avid reader, and in 1984, desperate for an emotional outlet, I began to write. My good friend, Anna, offered encouragement and also got me started reading romance novels. The stories and the characters spoke to my heart, and within a few months, I began to explore the possibility of writing a story of my own. Here was a chance to work at home and (with luck!) earn a little money. Here was a chance to regain a little confidence in myself and my abilities....

Making space...

2009-01-04T16:36:00.008-06:00

Surrounding ourselves with objects that speak to our souls brings us genuine pleasure. Still, a lot of us are numb to some objects that surround – dust gathering from past marriages and previous incarnations that have little connection to our present lives. Is your space filled with the excess baggage of old relationships…or of a self that you parted with long ago? Who is this woman who lives here? Are these things you? If they’re not, what are they doing in your most intimate, personal spaces? What are they doing in your house? –from Moving On by Sarah Ban Breathnach

Odds are you have one – mostly out of sight, often behind a closed door, yet lurking near enough that it’s never completely out of mind. You vow that one day soon you will do what needs to be done. You will face the hulking menace, once and for all. You will clean out that closet-, room-, basement-, garage-, or storage-unit-full-of-stuff.

Working as a reporter for the Observer Newspapers in 2004, I wrote an essay titled “Making a Place for the Good Stuff,” inspired by a weekend I’d spent cleaning out closets and cabinets.

Taking a look at everything I'd accumulated, I realized that I had more stuff than I could ever use, even if I wanted to – stuff I didn’t like much anymore or didn’t want or need much anymore. Perfectly good stuff, most of it gently used, some never used at all. Opening boxes and storage containers, I found things I’d been saving so long I’d forgotten why I’d bought them in the first place. Things someone less fortunate than I would love to have, and could have, if only I’d let loose of it all.

By Sunday evening, the trunk of my car was loaded with bags full of clothes, shoes, purses, wine glasses, sheets and towels, a quilt and matching pillows – all donated to the Humble Area Assistance Ministries (HAAM). Also on board were several bags of books – all donated to Friends of the Library Kingwood (FOLK).

In the years since my “big give,” I’ve managed to weed out stuff on a regular basis, hanging onto only those things I really want, really need and/or actually use. But there was one closet, the closet in my spare bedroom/office, mostly filled with special things – copies of my published novels, tear sheets from my news reporter days, partially completed manuscripts too dear to my heart to toss – that also held a lot of “excess baggage.”

There were three accordion-style folders full of e-mails chronicling relationships that had been important to me in the past. Originally, I’d printed and saved them as a diary. Then I’d thought about using them as the basis of a humorous book about the perils (and there are many!) of Internet dating after 50. Some of the experiences I'd had were pretty funny, but mostly, they were really sad.

I read a few snippets here and there and found myself wondering, “Who was that oh-so-eager-to-please person? Why did she put up with all that crap? Why didn’t she value herself more?” She hadn't lived in my space for a really long time - so long I barely recognized her - and as of yesterday, thanks my trusty shredder, neither does the baggage of the relationships she once had.

Next to go were reams (and reams) of paperwork from my divorce, including the meant-to-hurt, often hateful missives sent to me by my ex-husband during the nine months it took to be done with him. More than seven years later, the time had come to toss all that “excess baggage,” as well.

Several trips to the dumpster later, and dry-eyed once again (yes, there were a few tears – they washed away the last little bits of “dust”), I took a final look at my spare bedroom/office closet and realized that the papers I’d shredded hadn’t really taken up all that much room. But by getting rid of them, I’d opened up some space, not only physically, but also emotionally.

I remember hearing once that when you’ve opened up a little space in your life, the Universe takes note, and good things – like hopes and dreams fulfilled – are most likely to come your way.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of any other gift I’d rather give myself, as the New Year begins, than a little space waiting to be filled with good things….

Savoring a new year...again!

2009-01-01T19:33:00.002-06:00

There’s something inherently optimistic about creating a fresh page, with the old wiped away and the new waiting to be written. –Gayle Goodson Butler

During a lull at the Kingwood Library circulation desk yesterday afternoon, Kim and I talked about our plans for the evening ahead – New Year’s Eve.

“Don’t go to bed early,” she warned. “Whatever you’re doing at midnight – that’s what you’ll be doing all next year.”

Wow! I wish someone had told me that a long time ago. Maybe then I wouldn’t have slept through such a large part of my life.

Not literally, you understand, but I now realize there were huge blocks of time when I wasn’t nearly as engaged in my life as I could have been. Instead of focusing on the right here, right now, in the present moment of my days, I sadly replayed the (why have I never done anything right?) past and worried myself silly about the (I’m going to end up living in a box under a bridge) future.

My 2008 resolution to savor life woke me up in ways I never imagined. You have to be present – you have to be aware – you have to be in the moment to truly savor all that life has to offer. My extremely astute therapist made a big difference, as well. She awakened in me a kinder, gentler understanding of myself, gave me the tools to tap into my potential, and opened my slammed-shut door to anything-is-possible.

Last night, I stayed up until (way past!) midnight. I poured a glass of my favorite wine – J. Lohr Paso Robles Cabernet Sauvignon – saluted 2009 with a smile, and opened the fortune cookie I’d brought home from the Chinese restaurant.

On the scrap of paper was written “trust your intuition” – a validation if ever there was one. Trusting (finally!) my intuition the past year has made all difference for me, and yes, it has also brought me good fortune.

To do in 2009 – not surprisingly, I will continue to savor life and I will continue to trust my intuition. I will also make one new friend (hey you – yes, you – I’ve got my eye on you!); I will spread good cheer; and I will remember the old Chinese proverb, “If you keep the green bough in your heart, then the singing bird will come.”

If Kim was right, I will be smiling a lot, as well; enjoying fine wine; and opening myself to all sorts of good fortune.

A new year is beginning, full of promise. May we have our best year ever; may we love as deeply and laugh as often as we can; and may we do at least one thing we’ve always dreamed we’d do….

Happy 2009, y'all!

Seasoned with love

2008-12-31T19:24:00.010-06:00

Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” –Archbishop Desmond Tutu

The holidays are almost over, and I am glad. While I thoroughly enjoyed Thanksgiving, Christmas and the weeks in between, I’ve helped myself to way more goodies than are good for me – the chocolate, pecan, real butter, bacon and gravy kind of goodies – partly because there have been treats galore on the kitchen table at the library, and partly because I love to cook and love, love, LOVE to bake, especially at this time of year.

Though I shared a sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner with friend Kay and her family, I just had to prepare my own feast a few days later. I seriously enjoy leftovers, lots of leftovers, and that required a meal all for me – a small turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, pan-dripping gravy and green beans in a vinegar-bacon sauce that curled my toes – oh, yum!

I was also in the mood to bake Christmas cookies this year – six varieties to be given as gifts to the 12 members of my library family. I had an ideally-timed three-day weekend to relax and revel in the Zen of baking – quietly sifting, stirring, and of course, sampling, my old favorites - concoctions of real butter, toasted pecans, bittersweet chocolate, Mexican vanilla (thank you, Kay!) and fresh, fragrant cinnamon that filled the house with the scents of holiday seasons past. I had forgotten how good homemade cookies taste, warm from the oven and made to be shared.

My assignment for Christmas dinner with friend Cathy and her family was…green. “I have nothing green on the menu,” she said. “Bring something green.” I’m sure I could have found some healthy low-cal recipes in my stash, but healthy and low-cal had been my mantra the past six months. For Christmas dinner only decadent would do – spinach with cream cheese, artichokes, water chestnuts and real butter; and green beans with fresh mushrooms in a bacon/cream sauce. With Cathy’s brown sugar and pecan topped sweet potatoes, I could have almost been satisfied eating nothing but veggies.

Obviously I like good food – okay, I LOVE good food! But the real joy for me is in the fixing and mixing, the sampling of new tastes and textures, the tweaking of old favorites, and most of all, best of all, the sharing of sweet and savory delights with friends and family.

Unless you count the hours I spent at the table doing homework, I didn’t spend much time in the kitchen as a girl. My mother was a good cook, and she baked the most amazing cakes, pies and cookies, but she was a perfectionist, and she liked to work alone. She didn’t teach me how to cook, per se, but tucked out of her way, doing my homework, I picked up enough to throw together a decent meal or two (or ten) as a newlywed.

My former mother-in-law was the one who taught me the real joy of cooking. The woman would have eaten her young if it had been allowed by law, but I have to hand it to her – she knew how to turn the simplest ingredients into five-star-restaurant worthy meals.

Lucky for me, she was proud enough and confident enough of her expertise to share with me. She taught me everything I’d never learned about garlic cloves, peppers and squash, fresh fish, shrimp and crawfish, hot Italian sausage, ham bones and turkey carcasses. She introduced me to cumin and coriander, tarragon, cayenne pepper and curry powder. Hanging out in her messy kitchen, I learned the basics of chicken and sausage gumbo, oyster dressing, crawfish bisque, barbecued shrimp, stuffed artichokes and olive salad.

She never used a recipe, and so, on my own at home, I had to experiment – a large spoon of this, a small scoop of that, a dash of salt, a spritz of lemon juice, more pepper, and taste, taste, taste. Little by little, cooking became less of a chore and more a creative endeavor. Family and friends began to compliment me on my cooking, and that made me want to try my hand at new, more challenging and potentially better recipes.

Over the years, preparing food for those I love – with love – became my way of giving – my own “little bit of good.”

It’s still the gift I most love to give – not only to others, but also to myself.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

2008-12-10T20:55:00.006-06:00

You need not leave the room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. --Franz Kafka

Okay, so I had to leave the room. I had to walk out into the cold and wet to capture the world's ecstasy, rolling and whirling and tumbling not only at my feet, but all around me this glorious night. By the time I leave for work tomorrow morning, the snow will have melted away, but savoring the touch, the taste, the tease of it was pure delight.

Changing Patterns

2008-11-15T19:47:00.005-06:00

Once you’ve figured out what brings you genuine joy, it goes without saying that you should immediately begin filling your life with as much of it as possible. The great thing about this strategy is that it can vastly improve your quality of life almost immediately, without requiring any massive changes. ---from Finding Your Own North Star by Martha Beck

Having a full-time, 40-hour-a-week job has brought to my life a most agreeable pattern. With a glance at my calendar, I know when I’ll be working at the library and when I’ll be off, not only for the month of November, but for all of 2009.

My work-day routine doesn’t vary much, but most every day offers more than enough variety – often of the three-ring circus kind – to keep me on my toes, not to mention highly amused and entertained.

I also value my time off way more than I did during the 20+ years I worked as a freelance fiction writer. Back then, I spent hour upon hour alone in a room with imaginary people, and any day could be – and too often was – a long, lonely day off.

Making the changes necessary to move from my old (unhappy) pattern to my new (fun) pattern was no easy task, but it was definitely worth it.

The current pattern of my life is so much more fulfilling – and much less fraught (see blog posts on Burning Man Traveling Companion and Harley Dude!) – than the old pattern. Still there are times when my days drift along in a yawn-inducing sameness. My fault, I must admit – I like patterns that work for me, and I tend to stick with them. I also know when I’m ready for a little change, though, and so, it seems, does the Universe.

A couple of months ago (pre-Ike), I was talking to my friend Luisa, who is the managing editor of the Tribune Newspapers. She voiced a (near desperate!) need for someone capable of editing the weekly business briefs column and the once-a-month business and real estate page in a timely (able to meet a deadline!) manner. Bouncing ideas back and forth, we quickly realized I could do the job on a part-time basis.

The work – editing and AP-styling submissions from local businesses, event coordinators and marketing reps – takes me two to four (maybe five) hours each week. Luisa e-mails the submissions to me; I edit them Tuesday, Wednesday and/or Thursday evenings; and e-mail the copy back to her. I don’t have to do interviews or write stories. I only have to edit, which is fun and easy for me, and also allows me to keep up my news writing skills. I have a title – Business/Lifestyle Editor – and my name is on the paper’s masthead.

The compensation – that’s been fun and easy for me, too!

Working for the paper full-time, I had really enjoyed the many opportunities I’d had to attend press nights at the theater, local events and fundraisers, and to take an occasional press trip. While I wouldn’t have turned down a few extra dollars each week as payment for my editing, I told Luisa I’d most appreciate being able to do some of the fun stuff again. So we struck a deal, satisfactory to all involved, and the pattern of my life shifted once again.

In the past few weeks, I’ve attended a press night at the Alley Theatre; Diva Night, benefiting the Lone Star College-Kingwood Women’s Endowment Fund and the Humble Area Chamber of Commerce; a gala benefiting the Village Learning and Achievement Center; and the Greater Lake Houston Heart Walk and Heart Fest at Lone Star College (yes, folks, I crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning to walk two and a half miles with my pals at the Tribune!).

I’ve had great fun being a part of the Tribune staff again – the kind of fun that balances nicely with the great fun I have working at the Kingwood Branch Library. No massive changes were involved, but the quality (and the pattern!) of my life has most definitely improved in a truly joyful way!

VOTE!

2008-10-26T17:51:00.003-05:00

My country,
'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing…
Samuel Francis Smith

On Monday, I went to lunch at 2 p.m.

Tempted as I was to follow my usual routine – go home, take Gracie for a walk, fix a bowl of soup or a sandwich, finish reading the paper – I headed instead for the HISD Support Services Building. Early voting had begun there that morning, and rumor had it the line of people had been long. But the polling place was only five minutes away, and I figured, what the heck, I’d give it a try. Twenty minutes later, my ballot cast, I was grabbing a sandwich at HEB.

Sounds rather mudane, doesn’t it? I took a few minutes out of my busy day to vote – big deal. Well, yes, it was a big deal – to me, it was a very big deal, indeed.

We can vote a straight ticket in Texas – Democrat or Republican – but I went through the ballot candidate by candidate and chose the ones I wanted to elect. All but three of my choices were Democrats, and for the first time in way too long, I felt good about every one I’d chosen. I also believed that my vote would be counted this year and would be a catalyst for change on the national, state and local levels.

I cannot recall another time in my life when I actually stood before a voting machine and smiled – really smiled – as I pressed the button to cast my vote.

Much as I hate to admit it, there have been years when I didn’t bother to vote. I didn’t “like” any of the candidates; casting my vote seemed futile; I didn’t want to stand in line. Like so many others, I took my right to vote for granted – something I could do…or not…depending on my mood.

Eventually - better late than never - I began to realize that voting was not only a right, but also a responsibility.

Sitting on the sidelines, muttering about all that’s wrong, changes nothing. Only by standing up and speaking up can we begin to make a difference – maybe not a big difference, maybe not at first, but one day – a day like today – we find that we’re no longer standing alone, and our voice has been joined by millions of others.

Sadly, many of us don’t stand up or speak up when times seem good. If we have a house and a job, health insurance, clothes and a car and food on the table, we don’t consider (or try not to consider) how those less fortunate get by. We huddle on our little patch of prosperity, minding our own business, keeping our heads down and our mouths shut, and think about buying a big screen TV.

Lately, though, the ground has shifted under all of us, tossing each and every one a lot closer to “less fortunate” than we ever thought we’d be. Our business (or lack of business) isn’t only our own anymore. The trickle-down effect is trickling down on every man, woman and child in the world, and not in a good way. Keeping our heads down doesn’t seem to be an option anymore, not to mention making the payments on that TV.

Twisting in the wind of an eight-year downward spiral, many of us have finally begun to look at where we are and where we’d like to be, and maybe, just maybe, a majority of us have realized we’re not going to get there unless we elect honest, intelligent men and women to lead the way.

In the next 10 days, we will elect a new president – we, the people - the people who vote. It’s not just our right. It’s our responsibility. Do I want you to vote for the candidates I chose? Well, yes - that would be nice. But, bottom line, I just want you to vote.

Family Dynamics

2008-10-18T16:45:00.006-05:00

“Watch what happens when you don’t name an experience as ‘bad’ and instead bring an inner acceptance, an inner ‘yes’ to it, and so let it be as it is.” ---from Stillness Speaks by Eckhart Tolle

I thought the conversation with my 89-year-old mother would be a reasonably pleasant one. Otherwise I wouldn’t have initiated the phone call last Sunday evening.

I didn’t expect to be blindsided almost immediately by the hard, angry, hurtful, contemptuous tone of voice she used to issue orders in a rapid-fire, take-no-prisoners manner that stunned me into silence. My heart pounding, nausea swirling in my stomach, I felt like a shallow, stupid six-year-old.

How dare she talk to me that way, I thought, but didn’t say. Instead I focused on my breathing, clung to the last vestiges of the calm I’d enjoyed all day, and managed – somehow – to eventually shift her attention elsewhere.

Later that night, I realized that she was up to her old tricks, stirring the familial pot and trying, without success, to manipulate me into doing something that would be of benefit to her and her alone. Nothing new there – I’m accustomed to her narcissistic machinations and have learned, with the help of my extremely astute therapist, not to take them (too!) personally. Yes, her behavior towards me had been hurtful, but only for as long as I allowed it to be. I know – without a doubt – that I’m neither shallow nor stupid, and she knows it, too.

It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered my pot wasn’t the only one she’d been stirring.

Imagine my surprise to find an e-mail from my brother in my Yahoo box first thing Monday morning – my brother with whom I hadn’t had any real meaningful contact in the past 17 years – the brother who had visited our mother maybe a half dozen times in those 17 years, three times fairly recently.

Seems he wanted me to know that he had decided to sell our mother’s house and move her into a senior independent living facility – something I’d been trying to get her to do for the past three years. He was going to visit her again soon and take her to the facility he thought would suit her best – a facility to which I’d already taken her. He had decided that a trust should be set up to protect her assets, as well, and wanted to know what I could do to help with the sale of the house, setting up the trust and her “transition.”

I honestly thought the top of my head was going to blow off. Who did he think he was, taking over in such a high-handed way after years and years of doing nothing for her? More importantly, how dare he ask ME what I planned to do to help HIM?

I closed my e-mail, allowed myself a little time to rant – okay, I ranted quite a while – then told myself to calm down. I read once that if you change how you look at things, things will change, and I figured, what could it hurt? I printed out the e-mail, read it again, several times, and considered how, exactly, I could look differently, and more kindly, at what my brother was saying.

First and foremost, he was stepping up, at last, offering to take the lead in a situation that had proven to be increasingly problematic for me to handle on my own. Obviously, he also wasn’t aware of all I’d done already, more than likely because our mother hadn’t told him.

In fact, she had refused to consider any alternative I’d offered to make her life easier, including an invitation to move to Houston or the hiring of a home healthcare worker. Her “solution” to the “problem” had always been that I should quit my job, move back to St. Louis, live in her house under her authority and take care of her, because that’s what good daughters did.

Finally ready to reply to my brother's e-mail, I sat quietly and composed my thoughts. He needed to know what had already been done, so I included information on the facilities our mother had visited with me, the home healthcare alternative I’d investigated and offered her, and the trust she'd set up shortly after our father died. I suggested he contact my St. Louis cousin, who had recently sold her house, for a real estate agent recommendation. I also expressed my sincerest gratitude for HIS help and (settling firmly in the backseat) offered to support HIM in whatever he chose to do.

In the past, I would have likely been jealous or upset by what I would have seen as encroachment on my good-daughter territory. Not anymore! My brother, bless his heart, had taken on the job of good son and more power to him. I’m behind him 100 percent.

I’m also hoping our mother won’t make him crazy in the process – something she’s always been really good at doing. To that end, I recommended he read a book that has helped me more than I can say – The Wizard of Oz and Other Narcissists by Eleanor D. Payson, M.S.W.

The experiences we had as part of our family are as they are. Changing those experiences is impossible, but changing how I look at them has made all the difference for me. May it do the same for you, brother of mine.

P.S. Hitting the SEND button Monday afternoon, I felt an enormous sense of relief. The cosmos has shifted again – in a good way.

How to Make a Wish

2008-10-13T11:18:00.007-05:00

“The best way to understand how a wish works is to think of it as a tiny spurt of energy. Like everything in the universe, our thoughts or intentions are also forms of energy. When we focus our intentions by making a wish, we are creating a tiny energetic shove within the system of which we are all an inseparable part. Because of the power of intentions to be nonlocal, to transcend time and space, they ever so slightly move the cosmos. This is why one simple wish can help swing things a little more our way.” ---from Wishing Well: Making Your Every Wish Come True by Paul Ka’ikena Pearsall, Ph.D.

One week ago, I offered my wishes to the Universe. Since then, I’ve added one more picture to my collage, and I’ve started looking at the floor plan for a simple, two-bedroom cottage by the sea as a floor plan for a simple, two-bedroom cabin in the mountains of North Carolina, two minor but important adjustments.

Can’t say that I’ve noticed any movement in the cosmos, but what I have experienced is a sense of relief, as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

I’d been dithering, you see (and I SO cannot stand dithering by anyone, myself included!). I’d been trying to choose wisely, continuing to be cautious, clinging to the tired old belief that what I really wanted was so far beyond my reach that maybe I should settle for less…yet again.

In the past, I’ve given so much energy to the wet blanket pragmatist who never failed to hyperventilate whenever I attempted to abandon my supposedly more sensible self.

Would you believe she hasn’t once raised her wild-eyed little head the past week?

Considering the current state of our economy and the financial losses we’ve all suffered, that’s flat out amazing!

Do I believe that my wishes will somehow magically come true? Well, sort of…. But what I really believe is that I’ve made a commitment to what I really, really, really, really want, and opportunities will be presented, possibilities will appear, and I’ll have the wherewithal to do whatever it takes to make my wishes come true my very own self. I’ll have the courage to say yes or no, the wisdom to choose wisely and the determination to go after what I want, one sure and certain step at a time.

Putting my wishes out there was a little scary for me, but one week later, what I’m feeling, more than anything, is liberated.

Maybe there has been a shift in the cosmos, after all….

“How to Wish Well” from Wishing Well by Paul Pearsall, Ph.D.

SD-SU-CD – Sit Down, Shut Up, and Calm Down.
Pick a wish target. This means to connect and resonate with nature by looking at something alive.
Close your eyes.
Breathe deeply and abdominally.
Place your left hand over your heart.
Press your right hand gently but firmly on your left hand.
On exhaling, whisper your wish.
Use eight short words.

Make a Wish

2008-10-05T21:16:00.006-05:00

“As the psychologist Marion Woodman says, ‘Most of us are dragged toward wholeness.’ For many of us, the being dragged toward wholeness happens precisely through the mysterious process of wishing: through the gaps it exposes, the new edges it drives us toward, the deeper layers of longing it reveals.” ---from The Wishing Year by Noelle Oxenhandler

I’d had the pictures in a pile on my dining room table for more than a month.

Cut from various magazines during half a year or more of perusing, they represented bold wishes and deep desires – heart-thoughts around which I’d been tiptoeing for the past couple of years.

I wanted to go there, I wanted to do that.

There were no maybes as I clipped the picture of a woman atop an elephant in India or the simple floor plan for a two-bedroom seaside cottage. Each picture had spoken to me, not in a hesitant murmur, but in a clear, vibrant, edged-with-exhilaration voice that couldn’t be ignored.

My intention was to turn the pictures into a collage and display it in a place where I would see it, and think about it, every day. Yet I never seemed to remember to buy the poster board or the glue stick or the frame I needed. Collecting the pictures had been easy, but I was avoiding the next step – the more difficult step – that would shout out to the Universe “These are the things I really, really, really, really want in my life!” and I wasn’t sure why.

The answer came to me in an interesting little book about the power of wishes. I’d first read about “The Wishing Year” by Noelle Oxenhandler in a magazine, then a friend who’d read the book thought I’d enjoy it, too. I requested it at the library, and last week I settled down to read it.

I knew that my pictures were wishes – very personal wishes – but it took a passage in the book to make me realize why I could never seem to remember the poster board, glue stick or frame.

“Wishing makes us vulnerable – in many ways,” Oxenhandler says. “For one thing, it makes us vulnerable to disappointment – to the possibility that the arrow of our wish will miss the mark, that we will overshoot or fall short and thus break the appointment with our heart’s desire. How much easier to play it safe and never take that risk – by keeping our desires diffuse, unfocused, unarticulated, undirected (or in a pile on the dining room table!).”

I’ve done some wild and crazy things in my life (we will talk about New Mexico another time!), but mostly I’ve played it safe. I’ve also made a couple of bad choices in the past three years, so my faith in my ability to choose wisely in some matters has been a tad low.

But I’ve made some excellent choices, too; choices that have benefited me in ways I’d never imagined. I’ve wished for some really good things, like my dog Gracie and my job at the library, and my wishes have come true in positive and positively amazing ways.

So today, I bought the poster board, the glue stick and the frame. I sat at my dining room table, took a deep breath and stepped closer to the edge. I made my collage, and then I hung it in a special place.

I’ve offered up my deeper layers of longing, and I’ve opened myself to “the vast reservoir of possibility that is always there for us, lying in wait, ready to be tapped….”

It's a little scary, but I haven't been this excited in a long, long time!

Right here, right now

2008-09-27T14:10:00.009-05:00

Mindfulness is simply being aware of what is happening right now without wishing it were different; enjoying the pleasant without holding on when it changes (which it will); being with the unpleasant without fearing it will always be this way (which it won’t). ---James Baraz

I had planned my Clear Lake/Galveston Island get-away six weeks ago, pre-Hurricane Ike. I was going to use my floating holiday on Thursday, adding an extra day off to my scheduled three-day weekend. I'd also made a reservation for Grace and Zoey at the vet kennel.

I would head to friend Kay’s house in the Clear Lake area Thursday afternoon. That evening we’d attend a wine-and-cheese party for the local Democratic candidates. We’d spend Friday on Galveston Island, wandering through the shops on the Strand and dining at one of the restaurants on Seawall Boulevard. Saturday would include a jazz concert at the Unitarian church, where I've attended services with Kay on many Sundays.

I was SO ready to savor my mini-vacation, but I knew two weeks ago that it wouldn't be happening thanks to that bad boy Ike.

Kay’s home wasn't damaged by the storm, but she had evacuated to Dallas and wisely chose to stay there until her power is restored. The events we’d planned to attend were cancelled, of course, and it’s going to be a while before Galveston is once again visitor-ready.

I needed something(s) to do instead...I needed Plan B...

First, I decided to save my floating holiday for another time, so I worked on Thursday. I also offered to work on Sunday, which left me with Friday and Saturday off. I didn’t have to deal with storm-related damage, I hadn’t lost any income as a result of Ike, I didn't have to fight massive traffic jams to get where I needed to go, and my power was on. Better to focus on the (many, many!) being-good-to-me things I could do than wallow in regret. Yes, having to change my plans was disappointing, but compared to the losses so many people in the Houston/Galveston area have suffered as a result of Ike, postponing a fun weekend was nothing.

My job involves constant social interaction, and I love it. Apparently I’m not a loner, after all, but I usually find a good book more relaxing than a television show after a busy day. Not so Thursday night – I’d worked 11 days, and I was beyond tired. I wanted to savor something that required nothing more of me than my somewhat spacy presence. Looking at the TV listings, I saw a triple-header of True Blood about to begin on HBO. The first three episodes of the new series were scheduled back-to-back. I hadn't really considered watching the show when it debuted a few weeks ago. I’m not into vampires. In fact, I much prefer werewolves, the ones featured in Kelly Armstrong’s Bitten series. I thought I’d watch maybe one episode of True Blood, if that, and make an early night of it. Instead, I watched all three episodes, and now I'm hooked. Sunday night I'll be savoring the next episode of this quirky show.

I really enjoy reading the Houston Chronicle first thing in the morning, but I haven't had time to savor the daily paper the past couple of weeks. Friday morning I finally had a chance to catch up on the odd assortment of pages I'd been saving to read, not skim, including the editorials.

Needing to replenish my pantry, refrigerator and freezer, I also spent a couple of hours wandering the aisles of two of my neighborhood grocery stores. I found lots of bargains – fresh strawberries, Gala apples, Blue Bell (sugar-free!) chocolate ice cream, pork tenderloin, a huge fresh-not-frozen organic chicken. I also splurged on two kinds of fresh tomatoes, a loaf of bakery bread and the really-good-stuff ranch dressing I’m usually (but won’t be anymore!) too frugal to buy.

One thing I’d realized, as I cleaned out my refrigerator after the storm - I didn’t mind tossing all the “less expensive” stuff I’d bought but hadn’t used. So why was I buying it? In fact, buying a few “really good” things yesterday, things I knew I’d savor, cost me less than I'd thought it would. Talk about a “really good” lesson to learn...

Friday night I watched the presidential debate and Bill Mahr. I won't talk politics here, but I'm thinking that my invite to the wine-and-cheese party mentioned above and my appreciation of Bill Mahr's viewpoint have given you a good idea of how I'll be voting in November.

On my to-be-savored list for the remainder of the weekend: a little writing (almost finished!); the October issues of O Magazine and Body+Soul Magazine; DVDs of the BBC’s Love in a Cold Climate and Jekyll; Marisa de los Santos’s new novel, Belong to Me, and Kathy Freston’s Quantum Wellness; another episode of True Blood; a little cooking; and a long walk with Gracie.

I would have loved to have spent the past few days with friend Kay. We always have so much fun together, and I know we will again sometime soon.

But right here, right now, I’ve begun to feel that maybe what I needed most was exactly what I’ve had – a little time on my own to decompress, a little time to sample something new (True Blood!), and a little time to savor - really savor - some of the simple pleasures I'd been missing lately.

Ooops!

2008-09-21T19:36:00.005-05:00

“Choice is freedom. As with most freedoms, choice carries tremendous responsibility. We want to make choices that resonate with our heart’s desire and keep us going in the right direction.” ---from The Mindful Woman by Sue Patton Thoele

I’ve never been very good at multi-tasking.

Completing 20 published novels taught me the importance of focusing on one endeavor at a time, and it’s a lesson that has served me well. By staying in the present moment and focusing on the task at hand, I could sit at a desk in a small, noisy office and write 10-12 news stories a week. Now I stay in the present moment, focus my attention on one individual at a time and (mostly!) conclude transactions at the library quickly and efficiently.

The times I’ve attempted to do more than one thing at once, I’ve always ended up feeling frazzled, and when I’m feeling frazzled my attention span shifts into the zero zone. I’ve known this about myself for a long time, but still….

Last week I decided to multi-task twice, hurrying to send out two e-mails while my mind was elsewhere, only to realize (too late!) that there were a couple of people on my contact list that I hadn’t really intended to…contact.

As one of the few places in my neighborhood with power, Internet and WiFi, the Kingwood Branch Library has been crazy busy the past week – in a good way, but still, crazy busy. There’s barely been time to check e-mail, much less respond to messages from friends and family. When we received a message from library central filled with “after Ike” information - help lines, Web sites, how to (maybe!) find FEMA – I took a moment and forwarded it to everyone on my contact list. The next morning, halfway out the door on my way to work, I stopped for a quick moment and e-mailed all my contacts again to let them know I’d posted my own “after Ike” news on readerwritergirl.

To my dismay, one of those didn’t-intend-to-contact contacts contacted me by return e-mail and invited me to dinner. Not a response I’d expected, certainly not a response I’d wanted. However inadvertently (and unintentionally), I’d opened a door that needed to stay shut, and now I had to deal with it.

I met Harley Dude on eHarmony in early 2004. He had a really nice Harley Davidson motorcycle, and I’ve always loved motorcycles. He also seemed like a pretty decent guy. We had fun together for a while, but four months into the relationship, serious issues arose, a lie was intentionally told, and we parted company by mutual agreement.

I know that people change. I certainly have. We’d all like a second-chance do-over or two (or ten!), as well. But in order for one person to believe that another person has changed enough to deserve a second chance, there has to be a solid foundation of love and trust between them. A lie intentionally told early in a relationship is my idea of instant rubble. So is failure to control anger; abusive and/or condescending behavior toward anyone, especially me; and a basic lack of empathy for other people.

One thing I’ve learned (the hard way, of course!) about trying to stand on a pile of rubble – you’re going to take a big-time tumble.

Maybe all he wanted was to share a meal, but my first instinct was not to do it – not under any circumstances. To be honest, my gut clenched as I read his e-mail, and another thing I’ve learned (yes - the hard way, of course!) is not to ignore that kind of bad feeling.

I wanted to halt any further communication as soon as possible, but I didn’t want to be unkind to him.

Okay, I’ll admit it – I wanted to be unkind - really unkind - but only for a moment. Okay…okay…I thought about exactly what I wanted to say, and I chose the most perfect words, but I didn’t actually say them within anyone’s hearing...I sort of muttered them to myself...all afternoon! I had never told him how badly I'd been hurt by his behavior, and I wanted him to know. Only it was four years later, I'd moved on with my life, and I didn't want to deal with excuses and explanations that I wouldn't believe anyway.

Understandable, then, that I figured it wasn’t a good idea to talk to him, and I didn’t think I should have to. Unless he’d suffered a severe blow to the head, resulting in four years of amnesia, he’d have to know why I wasn’t interested in seeing him again.

So I sent a polite (as possible!) “thanks, but no thanks” e-mail.

His terse reply was so reassuring. In fact, I couldn't help but smile as I read it.

I’d made the right choice. I had moved in the right direction. I had closed the door once again.

Nothing but blue skies...

2008-09-16T21:46:00.011-05:00

Gracie keeps her eye on the rainy remnants of Hurricane Ike – September 13, 2008

My post on Friday afternoon, prior to Hurricane Ike’s arrival, was decidedly lighthearted, mostly for my benefit, but also for the benefit of family and friends around the country. In fact, watching the approach of a monster storm as it churns across the Gulf of Mexico can be (and was!) very scary.

Having prepared for the possibility of a hurricane making landfall in the Galveston/Freeport/Port Arthur area several times in the past 35 years, I knew what I needed to do to get ready. I knew, too, that my townhouse had been sturdily built and flooding wouldn't be an issue.

I’m a firm believer in the power of prayer (“Work as if it all depends on you; pray as if it all depends on God.” ---Sister Kenneth Maureen, Notre Dame High School, St. Louis, MO, circa 1967), and I’ve become rather adept at sending positive thoughts into the Universe. I’ve also had enough life experience to know that since I wouldn’t have minded if my old sofa and chair blew out a window and into the pool, the winds weren’t going to be strong enough to budge them. I was right.

With Ike more than three days gone, I am happy to say I’m one of the really lucky people in the Houston/Galveston/Beaumont area. The storm wasn’t as terrifying as I thought it would be. I spent maybe two hours on my living room sofa – 4 a.m. to 6 a.m. The wind gusts were the worst then. Otherwise I slept most of the night and into the morning. Gracie was miffed that she had to leave her cozy bed at 4 a.m. and was happy to return at 6. She wasn’t bothered at all by the storm. In fact, she wanted to play in the wind and rain early Saturday morning. Zoey stationed herself halfway up the staircase when the power went off Friday night and stayed there until late Saturday afternoon – hedging her bets, I suppose. There was no damage to my townhouse, no flooding in my neighborhood, and my power was out little more than 24 hours, going off at 8:15 p.m. Friday and on again at 9:45 p.m. Saturday.

My many friends, neighbors and co-workers living in the Houston area made it safely through the storm, as well. No one was injured, and only two of my co-workers had damage (nothing major) to their homes. The Kingwood Branch Library wasn’t damaged, either, and the power also came on there Saturday night.

Unlike many businesses in the Houston/Galveston area, we’ve been open the past two days, offering members of our community a place to read and relax, make local phone calls, and charge their cell phones and laptops. Our computer databases, Internet and WiFi powered up mid-day today, so folks are now able to take advantage of those (free!) services, too.

My co-workers and I have been pooling resources so we’ll be able to enjoy hot lunches the rest of the week – a huge pot of vegetable beef soup today; ham and beans and cornbread tomorrow; my chili pie on Thursday and my King Ranch chicken casserole on Friday (I’m one of the few with power, I love to cook, and I'm good at it, too!). I have a freezer full of ice to share, and my townhouse will likely be washateria central if the power’s still out on Saturday.

Our children’s librarian, Connie, and her cutie-pie dog, Lucky, spent Sunday and Monday night with me. Her townhouse, near the San Jacinto River, had some minor flooding in the ground-floor garage, but it’s already dry again. She and Lucky were especially good company and the source of many smiles – something I sorely needed as I watched the news reports of the devastation left behind by Ike.

So many of my favorite places – the Strand, Seawall Boulevard and the state park on Galveston Island, the Kemah Boardwalk, Seabrook Marina – are little more than fields of debris. So many people have lost their homes. So many businesses were demolished or could be shut down indefinitely, meaning so many people will likely lose their jobs. Times have been tough for so many people already, and Ike has made the prospect of tougher times ahead a reality, as well. Gassing up the car and buying groceries has become an exercise in patience. Simple tasks like cooking a meal or washing clothes haven’t been quite so simple the past few days. With Internet and cell phone service spotty at best, communication has been anything but high-speed. Life in my little corner of the world is a lot more stressful than it was a week ago.

The good news – it won't stay that way forever. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, we’ll have the opportunity to make choices and changes, large or small, all because of Ike. Maybe we’ll have the chance to be kind, generous or understanding, and we’ll like the person we’ve become as a result. Maybe we’ll share a meal with a stranger and make a new friend. Maybe a move to a new home will lead us to an interesting new neighborhood or a new job will finally allow us to do work we truly enjoy. Maybe we'll savor that hot meal or cold drink a little more. Maybe we'll sit back one day, close our eyes and be grateful, not only for everything we have, but also for everything we've always had.

It's true that Ike has swept many of our “houses” clean, perhaps not literally, but figuratively. We've said goodbye to "normal" life, as we knew it. On the upside, we've already begun to create a new, and hopefully better, "normal." I, for one, am already on the lookout for new delights. I hope you will be, too.

Stormy Weather

2008-09-12T13:48:00.005-05:00

“This being human is a guest house; every morning a new arrival; a joy, a depression, a meanness; some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be cleaning you out for some new delight.” ---Rumi

I’ve wanted to use the Rumi quote to introduce a blog post, and today it seems the Universe, in cahoots with Mother Nature, has given me a good-as-any reason

Hurricane Ike will be a guest in my little corner of the world in approximately 12 hours. The library is closed today and tomorrow, my pre-storm preparations are complete, and I’ve hunkered down for the duration of his visit.

I have bottled water and a freezer full of ice. Those plastic containers we all save obsessively came in handy. They’re great for making small chunks of ice that fit perfectly in the cooler I’ll use to store my boiled eggs, ham, turkey and cheese, once the power’s been off for a while. I have lots of clean sheets, towels and clothes in case I’m without electricity for more than two or three days. I’ve stocked up on the four major food groups: ham/turkey; cheese; chips; and chocolate; oh, and some really luscious grapes that Kroger had on special yesterday evening.

One fellow shopper groused about the lack of “good” bread on the store’s shelves, but there were dozens of loaves of rye bread. In my opinion (which I chose not to share - fellow shopper looked a little frazzled!), there’s nothing like ham and cheese on rye with Dijon mustard to chase away the bad hungries.

I have flashlights and batteries and a nifty transistor radio that worked like a charm during Hurricane Rita. I may not be able to watch Channel 2 news, but I'll be able to listen. I have a stash of books to read, a cell phone (fully charged), a laptop with wireless (also fully charged) and an old-fashioned plug-in telephone that doesn’t require an electrical outlet to work.

I’ve tucked my potted plants under the shrubs close to the wall of my townhouse, and later, I’ll be packing up a few of my special things – mostly porcelain vases that belonged to my grandmother – and storing them in my utility closet. My photos are already safely stashed in plastic tubs. As for everything else, all the other stuff I own – what happens…happens. The only irreplaceables riding out the storm with me are Grace and Zoey, and if necessary, all three of us can fit into the powder room under the stairs.

Of course, there are things that matter to me, but if those things are ruined by the storm, then so be it. Sure there would be a big mess to clean up if the roof blows off or windows break, but stuff is stuff. To be honest, some of my stuff has worn out its welcome. For example,the sofa and chair in my living room – wow – those two pieces of furniture, and the memories attached to them, would be better off in Oz.

The latest update on the local all-hurricane-all-the-time TV station has verified that the guest is most certainly on his way, and if past experience – Hurricane Alicia in August of 1983 – is any indication, I’m in for a long night - high winds, heavy rain and a major power outage. I so wish that my guest could have planned his arrival for the daylight hours, but that seems to be typical of the guests we’re least eager to entertain. They have a tendency to show up at the worst possible time.

The good news is that, as sure as Ike will come, he will also go, and if those of us who have to put up with his visit experience a little clearing out, I'm hoping it won't be too tedious. I'm also hoping that each one of us will find some wonderful delight waiting for us after the storm, as well.

Shopping with a friend a few weeks ago, I found a new sofa and chair, perfect for my living room. Frugal person that I am, however, I wanted to consider the purchase a while longer. Now I'm done considering, and let me tell you, folks, I'll be getting that sofa and that chair, whether Hurricane Ike hurls the old ones out a window or not!

Oh My Gosh

2008-09-07T19:47:00.010-05:00

“…as far as I can tell, no matter what the circumstances, parenthood is thrust upon a parent. No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you’ve got, say ‘Oh my gosh,’ and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It’s not a question of choice.” ---from Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos

I was one of the lucky ones. Parenthood chose me at the same time I chose to be parent, a stay-at-home parent. One minute, we were talking about having a baby, the next minute – or so it seemed – I was pregnant.

I have savord every moment (some more than others!) of my 24-hour-a-day, seven-days-a-week-for-the-rest-of-your-life journey into motherhood. I wish I could also say that I haven't dropped the ball occasionally, but, however unintentionally, I have. You don’t tell your 20-year-old son that you’ve made the heartbreaking decision to divorce his father after 27 years of marriage and have him say he can’t believe you waited so long if you’ve been the perfect parent. But I did the best I could with what I had back then. Good days or bad days, I wouldn’t trade a single one of them. Having the chance to be Nick's mom has made every day worthwhile - except maybe the year he was 15.

Yes, I sometimes had to be reminded that it was six o’clock and I hadn’t started dinner yet, and “Please, Mom, could you stop writing and make me a little macaroni and cheese?” And I admit that on at least one occasion my son opened his lunch box to find a “bread sandwich” – no ham, no cheese, no turkey – just two slices of bread neatly cut into little triangles. I believe I did include the chips and cookies and juice box, but I can’t say for sure. Oh, and I messed up one of his mammoth Lego buildings, sort of, when I moved it to mop his bedroom floor. Years later he told me he’d lost interest in his Lego blocks after that unfortunate incident. Maybe that’s why he’s an RN now instead of an architect. So maybe in retrospect, that little mishap was actually a good thing…right?

There were times when being the parent – often the only parent physically and/or emotionally available – was anything but easy. Times when I wished I could be his pal; times when I wished I didn’t have to say no; times when I wished I could look the other way and hope for the best. But that would have been dropping the ball big time. That would have been saying I didn’t care about him when he most needed to know that someone truly did.

You start on day one, laying the foundation. You provide the guidelines. You answer questions as honestly as you can. You give advice whenever the moment seems right and also when there isn’t a single, solitary right moment in sight. Feather by feather, you give them the wings they need to fly. You hold your breath and watch as they tumble out of the nest that first tentative time. You patch them up whenever necessary and let them have another go. You wait for the day when they’re ready to soar, and then you let them loose.

You say goodbye to the little boy or the little girl you once cradled in your arms, you say hello to the young man or the young woman standing before you with a smile, and finally…finally…you get to be not only the parent, but also the pal!

A Mercer Arboretum Moment

2008-09-06T18:26:00.009-05:00

“Nothing is more effective than a deep, slow inhale and release for surrendering what you can’t control and focusing again on what is right in front of you.” ---Oprah Winfrey

Tucked away off a busy four-lane road in northeast Harris County is a little jewel of a place that I’ve come to love.

I’d know about Mercer Arboretum for years, but first walked its trails through gardens and bamboo forests in the fall of 2004, along with my Burning Man traveling companion (BMTC). We spent many Sunday afternoons there over a six-month period. It was the perfect place to wile away a few hours – admission is free, and there’s always something new and interesting to photograph as the seasons change.

BMTC and I went our separate ways in April 2005, and for a long time – more than two years – I avoided the Arboretum. Too busy, I told myself, but the place also held too many memories I was sure would only make me sad. Then one Sunday morning about a year ago, out of the blue, I had to go back there...just had to go. Can’t say why – one minute I was reading the paper and the next minute I was out the door, camera bag slung over my shoulder.

Though it was only 10:30, the day was already well on its way to being miserably hot and humid. I seemed to be the only one at Mercer – no big surprise considering the day, the time and the oppressive heat. I thought about leaving, but lurking alongside the whim to go there had been a certainty that I needed to go there for a reason.

I trudged along the old familiar trails, uncovering at every turn the memories I’d avoided so studiously. The urgency I’d been feeling suddenly seemed silly to me. I saw nothing but sad reminders of a relationship that has been disappointing, at best – certainly nothing worth the bother of slipping the cap off my camera lens.

Then I noticed a little dragonfly flitting from flower to flower. I couldn't recall ever seeing a dragonfly at Mercer, and I wanted a photo of this one. Shaking off my reverie, I sank to my knees, trying not to frighten him away. I raised my camera, adjusted the zoom, shot several frames, and immediately felt better.

That dragonfly had been exactly what I needed to focus on the moment at hand - a deep, slow inhale and release - a small surrender of the past.

By the time I finished my walk that Sunday morning, I had taken more than a dozen photos. Focusing on the living, breathing, here-and-now beauty all around me, I had realized that new memories were mine for the making. Mercer Arboretum had become a place I could easily enjoy – and have enjoyed many times since – all on my own.

A few days after I photographed the dragonfly, I received a postcard from a friend. On the postcard was a picture of…yes…a dragonfly, along with a note that read: In Japan, a dragonfly represents strength, courage and victory. If one appears when you're faced with a major task - like blessing a relationship for lessons learned, laying memories to rest, and living for today - the insect is a sign that you've got what it takes to get the job done.

I hope you smiled when you saw my dragonfly photo - I always do - and I hope you also believe you have what it takes to get the job done, because, my friends, you do!

Happy New Year #3

2008-09-01T14:06:00.007-05:00

“…there is always something to celebrate, so long as life if being lived. Seeing your cup as half full rather than half empty is more than a sappy aphorism. It is the key to enduring happiness.” ---from Happier than God by Neale Donald Walsch

Yes, I know. New Year’s Day is January 1, but I’ve always liked the idea of having more than one new beginning during the 12-month period from January 1 to December 31. In fact, I have three. The first is the traditional one, the second is my birthday at the end of February, and the third is today – September 1.

Why three? Isn’t one new beginning a year enough?

Not for me. I’m a big fan of reassessing, taking a look at what’s been working for me and what hasn’t, and then readjusting my priorities. There have been years when one or more of the resolutions I’ve made on January 1 weren’t really right for me anymore by the end of February. So, in classic do-over style, I reassess and readjust on my birthday. That day marks the start of my journey through earth school mumble-something years ago, and I’ve always believed that on February 24 I owe it to myself to re-start (sometimes jump-start!) my journey from wherever I happen to be.

September 1, in my mind, has always marked the end of summer – time to settle down again and study. Back in the day, school started on or about September 1, and with the beginning of another school year, I always vowed to make the most of the opportunities I’d have to learn new things. I’ve been out of school a long time, but every year on September 1, I still feel the urge to commit once again to learning new things.

This year on January 1, my one and only resolution was to savor all the wonderful things life has to offer. That resolution worked so well for me that I stuck with it in February. Granted I’ve savored some things a little too much – Christi’s amazing carrot cake, Blue Belle mint chocolate chip ice cream, Cadbury’s milk chocolate almond candy bars. Some ratcheting back will now occur. I will focus more on savoring blueberries in vanilla yogurt (low fat!), fresh tomatoes and toasted walnuts on my Bob’s Red Mill 5-grain cereal.

I also savored the first real vacation I’ve had in years. Not only was it a paid vacation; I did not – for the first time in 20+ years – have a deadline of any kind hanging over my head. I can’t tell you how many “vacation” trips I spent in hotel rooms writing pages while my family skied or snorkeled.

Nick and Jill (see photo) made my week in the mountains of North Carolina a true delight. I read, I walked, I wrote in my journal, I took photographs, and I enjoyed every bite of the healthy gourmet meals they made for me. I even hiked up Roan Mountain – no small achievement for me. Talk about magnificent vistas to savor. I’ll be visiting them again sometime in the near future, this time in Flagstaff, Arizona – another place I’m looking forward to savoring.

In the past eight months, I’ve slowed down enough to also savor good times with friends and my library family, good books, movies and music, good walks with my dog, good laughs and good cries.

It’s been good times, for sure, so – no surprise here – this September 1, I’m officially signing up to not only learn some new things, but also to continue to savor more of all the good things I’ve enjoyed lately, especially the good times with Nick and Jill, my friends and my library family.

To paraphrase Neale Donald Walsch’s quote…there is always something to savor, so long as life is being lived.

Happy New Year #3, y’all!

Managed Perfection

2008-08-31T15:52:00.007-05:00

“Tell the truth, to everyone about everything, then live your truth, in every moment and in every way, and you will be happy forever in your heart, for truth makes the spirit soar, truth sets the mind free, truth opens the heart, and truth ignites the passion and releases the love of the soul” ---from Happier than God by Neale Donald Walsch

In her delightful novel, “Keep Your Mouth Shut and Wear Beige,” Kathleen Gilles Seidel tells the story of a woman coping with divorce, her son’s upcoming wedding and her ex-husband’s significant other. To Darcy, our heroine, the SO seems…well…perfect. She runs her own business, selling products and services meant to make life so much better, if not downright perfect. Darcy finds herself just a tad addicted to the SO’s blog, titled Managed Perfection, but the more she gets to know the SO, the more she realizes the SO’s life isn’t really that perfect, after all.

I thoroughly enjoyed the story. Seidel is a wonderful writer. I’ve been a fan of hers for years. She has the ability to add just the right touch of humor to life’s more serious moments, and her characters are real human beings, dealing with real problems in very real, and not necessarily saintly, ways.

I also ran smack into myself on the pages of “Keep Your Mouth Shut.” I, too, had been just a tad addicted to a blog intended, first and foremost, to sell the author’s services, and for a time, like Darcy, I believed her life was just as perfect as her blog entries made it seem.

Eventually, I realized that, of course, her life had to seem perfect. She had to sell herself first if she wanted to sell her services, and how better to do that than to hold herself up as the perfect example of how beneficial her services could be? Take one of my classes and add more focus to your life…just like I’ve done. Attend one of my events and network with important people…just like I’ve done. Sign up for 12 months of one-on-one sessions, and a year from now, you will have also tapped into your inner genius.

It’s a given that fantasy sells better than reality…the fantasy of finally getting a good night’s sleep if you buy that $$$ mattress; the fantasy that providing a favored brand of beer will make you the life of the party. Those fantasies I've recognized immediately.

Took me a little longer, but with the help of a good book (and, yes, a therapist who is extremely astute), I’ve seen my nemesis blog for the fantasy it is, as well. Neither good nor bad, it is a carefully edited, decidedly upbeat slice of someone’s life intended to get folks to pay good money for the services she provides. It is a part of her story, but not the ups-and-downs, warts-and-all story that makes up the real life we all live, no matter what we’d like other people to believe.

I'm a Burner...are you?

2008-08-30T21:23:00.007-05:00

“…judge not, and neither condemn, the people and events being placed before you by life, but rest well in the awareness that you, yourself, have drawn them to you, that you might fulfill life’s potential, its promise, and its purpose.” ---from Happier than God by Neale Donald Walsch

The Man burns tonight. I won’t be there, but I was on the Playa a few years ago, and once a Burner, always a Burner…or so I’ve been told.

If you’re not familiar with Burning Man, check out www.burningman.com. If you are, then you’re probably a Burner, too, or would like to be.

Burning Man 2004 was one of the most interesting experiences I’ve ever had. The art installations were amazing. The art cars – aka mutant vehicles – were colossal in size and scope. The music and motion continued non-stop, languid during the heat of the day, rousing and raucous into the night. We were graced with a full moon most of the week, and the dust storms were few and far between. I walked among 40,000+ strangers and felt safer than anywhere I’d ever been, and I saw my first, and to date only, shooting star. It was time-out-of-mind magical, beginning to end.

Yes, lots of wild and crazy people of all ages, backgrounds and beliefs show up on the Playa in northern Nevada every Labor Day weekend for Burning Man, but the ones I met were regular folks. Mostly acquaintances of my traveling companion’s son, they lived in the San Francisco Bay area or Coos Bay, Oregon, worked at real jobs, and loved to have fun with their families. They not only shared their camp site with us, but also generously invited us to join them for dinner several nights.

Never one to rough it of my own free will, I slept on an air mattress in a tent for more than a week and did without a TV, newspaper, Internet, cell phone, flush toilet, shower or shampoo for nine days straight. How did I stay sane? I brought lots of books to read, my trusty journal and Wet Wipes, in the BIG tub!

Did I have a good time? Oh, yeah…but it wasn’t all sweetness and light. Life experiences rarely are. In fact, Burning Man 2004 was fraught with all sorts of uh-oh moments...kind of like an aha moment, only not as uplifting. I can’t say I was paying nearly enough attention at the time, but in hindsight, always 20/20, there were some really good lessons to be learned.

For example…never, ever, agree to split the cost of a three-week cross-country trip with someone you’ve known only a couple of months, and if you do, make sure you and your traveling companion each ante up half the anticipated expenses BEFORE you hit the road.

If you don’t know the person responsible for providing all of the food and beverages (cost to you = $200 upfront) for a 10-day camping trip out in the middle of nowhere, make sure you bring at least some food and some beverages of your own…just in case. Litchis soaked in vodka do not a meal make. Although they are quite good, and after you’ve eaten a half dozen or so, you're no longer quite so upset that there’s nothing else on that night’s menu.

Pack you patience, but never, ever, suffer in silence. Sleeping in the open bed of a small truck is acceptable for one night, but not two. Stop gazing at your navel and help me put up the tent! Missing a promised departure time by an hour or two is understandable. Missing a promised departure time by 12+ hours after 9 days without a shower or a shampoo? Can you spell hissy fit? Having your request for a night in Vegas ignored, then being the one to pay big bucks at a rundown motel in a two-stoplight town with Burger King the only dining option? Does anybody have a baseball bat I can borrow?

Not exactly stellar moments, but moments that served as the first of many catalysts I'd needed to take a look at my life, at how I valued myself and all I had to offer, and make some long-overdue changes.

Burning Man 2004 was the beginning of an important journey for me, a one-of-a-kind experience that opened my eyes in surprising ways. Since the fall of 2004, I completed my 20th published novel. I was hired for my first “real” job in 25 years as a reporter for the Observer Newspapers, which led to my job as feature writer and graphic artist at the Tribune Newspapers, which led to the job I have now, the best job I’ve ever had - a job that gives meaning and purpose to my life.

Maybe I would have gotten to where I am today in another way, but I’m sure glad Burning Man 2004 was “placed before me.” It was a real trip!

I love YouTube!

2007-11-14T11:04:00.000-06:00

YouTube! I love it! I've received e-mails from friends with YouTube attachments, but this was the first time I explored the Web site in more depth. With guidance from fellow KW library staff members (thanks Christie and Ann!), I discovered "mother's day" - two funny guys portraying totally different brothers attempting to take a photo for their mom. The guys have done many more entertaining videos, as well. Also, "skating cowboys," - eye candy for sure! Since I'm a cat lover, I also enjoyed "cat flushing toilet" - have been rethinking using the powder room for my cat's time-outs. YouTube is definitely the place to get some grins.

Has techonology improved my life?

2007-10-25T15:16:00.000-05:00

I was going to blog about how technology has improved my life, but Horizon has been down since mid-morning...bleh!

Seriously, folks...I wrote my first 80,000-word manuscript 25 years ago. I wrote the draft in longhand, then typed the manuscript on my trusty portable electric typewriter. Four rewrites (and retypes!) later, I sold the manuscript to Silhouette Books. By the time I began my second book, I had bought my first computer. With the help of a 15-year-old neighbor, I learned Wordstar, and writing books became a whole lot easier for me. So, yes, I have appreciated new technology, and I continue to appreciate new technology. I have a cell phone, a DVD player and a digital camera, and I enjoy using them. But I'm concerned about how some aspects of technology, most notably the Internet, have begun to replace face-to-face social interaction, especially for young people.

Some Thoughts on Web 2.0/Library 2.0

2007-10-18T15:15:00.000-05:00

Although I read the article on Web 2.0 with interest, I can't say I'm enthusiastic about the possibility that "You and your mobile devices...are always online, connected to one another and to the Web." I'm already "connected" more than I'd like to be and as much as I can afford to be, financially. My concern is that we have begun to assume that everyone has access to a computer and the Internet, and that's not really true. Computers are still a luxury item for many people, and Internet service has become increasingly expensive. Yes, computers witn Internet connections are available at most libraries, but there are only a limited number of computers available for a limited amount of time. I see the increasing "need" to be connected in order to access information as a way of making it more difficult for those who need the information most to get ahead in the world to actually get it. I also see the increasing "desire" to be constantly "connected" as a way in which many people become isolated from the joys of living in the real world with real people.

In reading the article on Library 2.0, I again had the feeling that we are being urged to spend even more time with a machine. The comment that "Libaries are not merely in communities, they are communities" is so true. Yes, libraries need to provide as much information as possible, but we also need to continue to provide a community where living, breathing people can meet other living, breathing people face-to-face, not in the cyberspace virtual world of a humming piece of machinery.

Hooked on LibraryThing

2007-10-09T15:29:00.000-05:00

Okay, I am SO hooked on LibraryThing, thank you very much. I'm afraid I'm going to have to PAY for an account so I can add all my favorite books. I've only added a few books so far, but I can see reaching the 200 max sooner rather than later. I loved adding my profile, too.

Meez a ReaderWriterGirl

2007-10-09T15:03:00.001-05:00

Yes, I look almost exactly like this! Try meez.com at http://www.meez.com/home.dm?r=832151 and have some fun!

Zoey - Cat with a Badge

2007-10-08T11:58:00.001-05:00

My creation
Originally uploaded by readerwritergirl

This was so much fun! I created a badge for my cat. She's going to be so happy! You, too, can create a badge for you pet at http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/

Have fun!

Nick and Jill and Gracie, too

2007-09-28T11:06:00.001-05:00

nick 003
Originally uploaded by readerwritergirl

I cropped my original photo using Pixer! Once I got the hang of it, it was fun.

Nick and Jill and Gracie

2007-09-28T11:05:00.001-05:00

nick 002
Originally uploaded by readerwritergirl

This is my original photo of my son Nick, my dog, Gracie, and Nick's partner, aka "our" Jill.

zoey the bad cat

2007-09-25T13:02:00.001-05:00

zoey
Originally uploaded by readerwritergirl

My cat Zoey, aka badcat, has been a member of my family for 13+ years. She was a gift from my son.

safety and online sharing

2007-09-19T11:17:00.000-05:00

It is important to remember that anything you post online can/will be read by someone somewhere sometime. When sharing personal information, stick to only those things that you feel comfortable sharing with everybody in the world - good, bad or indifferent. It's not called the "world-wide Web" for nothing!

Hello!

2007-09-17T14:30:00.000-05:00

I've created this blog as part of iHCPL's 23 Things program. I'm a reader and a writer, author of 20 published novels. I love taking photographs, too. I'm looking forward to learning more about the Web, especially how to use Flickr to store my digital photos.