Ooops!

“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...

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

“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

“…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

“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

“…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

“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.