Gratitude Thursday

Well, I’m still living in Crazytown this week, but after the whiny tone of my last post about the G-homestead, I thought I’d try something different. I’ll take a page from Ms. Oprah and other wise souls and make my very own gratitude blog post.

Today I am grateful for:

One of my major writing and design projects for my job is done and in the mail. I have been blessed by some very nice complements from my co-workers on the piece and even though I see the parts that I’m not happy with and the places where I thought I could have done better, I’m trying to be truly thankful for their kind words and accept their kind words gracefully. It’s hard, my nature is to not believe people when they tell me they like what I’ve done. I don’t know why I’m so jaded – I think it’s the inner critic in me that says, “They’re just saying that because they feel sorry for you.” Or, “They’re just saying that because they don’t want you to feel bad.” Which, when I start walking down that path, does nothing but make me feel bad. Gah – I think I’m going to name my inner critic the White Witch, like the one from “The Chronicles of Narnia” and picture myself as Susan piercing her evil heart with an arrow shot from my magical bow. (OK – I know Peter kills her in the book and the movie, but I’m SO Susan in all my doubts and fears – so I’m going to be the one who shoots her when she starts criticizing me with her ice cold silvery daggers of doubts. My critic, my revenge.) Anyway – I’m thankful for all I learned doing the project and that it turned out presentable.

Mark – the bulk mail guy at the post office who patiently answered all my questions and then praised me for a job well done when my totals all matched up on our 1500 piece mailing. The guy is just a gem!

My darling husband. He’s fighting a nasty infection that has lodged itself in his foot and is making it almost impossible for him to walk. The poor guy feels horrible (physically) and keeps apologizing to me. I have a keeper here folks. Please pray that this will heal quickly as he’s really miserable.

My little lady. She had her first Middle School dance tonight. I can’t believe I just typed those words. I remember dancing with her in the living room to The Little Mermaid when she was about 2 and a half! Thankfully, when I picked her up today, there were no tears or frustrations about boys not asking her to dance, only a peeved young lady that one of the teachers broke up a perfectly good Conga line because there was too much “touching” going on somewhere in the line. (Thanks Mr. C.) We've had some great discussions lately about the issues that go along with growing up and I'm so grateful for her obedient heart and teachable spirit. Don't know how long this will last before the real rebellion kicks in but I'm grateful for this for now.

The boy. The young man is so creative and expressive and bright as the sun is hot. But sitting down and doing worksheets – definitely not his idea of a good time. The little guy has been stepping up the efforts on the homework though and has had a great attitude about it this week.

The schedule is easing up. I have actually been able to be home a few nights this week. Hooray! I cleaned a particularly nasty cupboard of arts and crafts supplies last night and started weeding through our books to get rid of some that just don’t make the cut for ones I want to read again, ones I might pass on to someone, or, ones that were so profound that they will never leave the walls of this house without me. It feels good to be in my nest. Speaking of nest . . .

Keeko the wonderbird. She is settling in and the loud fits of chirping and singing only seem to be happening about 2-3 times a day. The rest of the time, she seems quite content. Brad has been great about this little feathered one as he was not really crazy about the idea of expanding our family. I think if Keeko keeps on her good behavior, she’s secured her immunity for the time being.

Good TV – Studio 60, Gray’s Anatomy, The Office. Yay for new stories, great writing and the gift of laughter.

You! My blogging friends (and even the lurkers who aren't leeaving comments - you know who you are *wink*)! You all have been so encouraging in your comments and kind words. They are like a cool shower of blessings during the dry times when all there seems to be is duty and obligation. Thanks Michelle for the nice compliment on my flower pictures - I've actually thought about making some into cards. When I get a chance to work on them, I'll email you and find out where to send some!

Thanks for stopping by everyone! Please leave me a note in my comments of some of the things you are thankful for today. If you can't think of anything, let me know that too, and then I'll lift up prayers for you this week. I'd like to do that for you as I know that others have done that for me during the dry times in my life. Thanks again! Really . . . thanks!

Sunday Scribbling - Instructions

Inspired by Jenny who had a wonderful post about really short stories and Tara who had a wonderful little Scribble this week, here’s a mini-Scribble. It’s a bit “dark and twisty” for this mom from the burbs, but it’s the one that has wrestled itself to the top of the brainstorm heap and was the tough bully among them that said, “It’s my week this week”.

The gas can thumped against her leg as she walked back to the car.

With each thump she could feel her heart starting to slow down from the frantic pace of earlier in the night.

She wasn’t an evil person. She didn’t want to hurt him, even if he deserved it. But he did have to face the consequence of his actions.

She put the gas can in her trunk and traced her steps back from where she had come. When she saw the slick glimmer on the pavement in front of his driveway, she stopped.

God - why does he love that thing so much? she thought. It’s old and ugly and the seats have springs poking through the cushions. What is so important about that old truck? Why does he love something like that and he can’t love me?

The answer was in the palm of her hand. Not the answer to the question, but the answer to this pain she felt tonight.

In white letters on a red background, "Close cover before striking."

For more Sunday Scribblings go here.

Don't call the police . . .

Dear friends,
Yes, I am still alive. No need to contact the FBI, CSI or that cutie-pie on the new show "Kidnapped". I am in that special pergatory, h - e - double toothpics part of being a parent called "September". This past week had three back to school nights, five soccer practices, a heavy workload and the start back to my responsibilities as a small group leader for our weekly women's meeting at church. All that plus gobs of laundry, errands, feeding the rugrats, keeping them on track with their homework and shuffling through the mounds of paperwork sent home in backpacks has kept me out of the bloggosphere.

And I miss you all! I feel like I'm spiritually and creatively dragging for lack of my "fixes" from your incredible blogs. Please know that I'm hoping that this weekend I'll have a chance to catch up on your entries and hopefully put something thoughtful and insightful on this little 'ole blog.

But, because it's still September, don't anyone hold their breath too long.

Sunday Scribbling - Research

Well, there's nothing that will send you googling quicker than a orphan pet finding it's way into a household. So all the great ideas I had for doing research on North Africa, Breast Cancer, my favorite place in the world - Fountains Abbey, Organ Donation - these all took a back seat to my immediate need to know how to feed and care for one very lovely little Peach-faced Lovebird that moved in today.

About two weeks ago we lost our lovely neighbors across the street. Well, they're not really LOST, like freaky magnetic island in the middle of nowhere lost, but moved to another part of town, lost. We loved this family and had become good friends with them and enjoyed exploring the different cultural differences in our families. The mom had a hobby of raising birds and my daughter had spent many hours at her house watching her care for the many birds. She gave us this lovely gift today as she's expecting her 4th child and is trying to pare down her extensive bird collection so she can focus on her family.

So Keko (keeko) joined our family today. We are struggling most right now with what to call it. He? She? Did you know that the only way to definitively tell the sex of a lovebird is to have it's DNA tested? Okay, maybe it's just me, but that could really stink if you were a lovebird trying to make a love connection. Just how do THEY figure it out? Hmmm . . . write that one down to ask the Creator someday . . .

Mrs. N gave us a wonderful supply of bird food but tonight I learned that lovebirds also need a variety of fresh fruit and vegetables. Tonight Keko dined on birdseed, broccoli and banana (we're nothing if not fans of alliteration). I also learned that avocados, rhubarb leaves and apples seeds are poisonous to birds.

Lovebirds love their toys. They need to chew and toys made of leather, rawhide or natural substances work best. They don't necessarily like to be alone so tomorrow we're going to try to get a mirror so maybe we can convince he/she there's a buddy right next door. We let her/him out of her/his cage for a bit of a stroll around tonight and he/she seems content with her/his new surroundings.

The real unknown is the noise factor. That could immediately earn Keko a ticket on the next raft off the ark if he/she tries to start revelee too early in the morning. The research says that these can be noisy little birds if they don't get enough attention. We're hoping that the kid's fascination with little peach-faced Keko holds out and they can sufficiently tire out the little critter so it sleeps in until a descent hour each morning.

I'll try to post actual pictures of Keko in a few days, but for now the canned google image above lets you see how cute the little guy is. Or girl . . .

Bloggerfest PDX

About nine months ago, I stumbled across my first blog. I found it through a weekly email that highlights talented up-and-coming creative artists. Christine Miller (a.k.a. Swirly Girl) wrote the most amazing, rich, relevant and personal journal entries to go along with her beautiful art. And more than that, she demystified the art of creating. She let you in on her process, her thoughts, her insecurities and her triumphs. I was hooked.

Soon after I started reading her blog, she wrote about an upcoming retreat with her blogging friends in California. I quickly followed the links like a starving bird devouring fresh baked bread crumbs. For days I read the reports of their wonderful retreat and how it had nourished each one's creative spirit. How great, I thought. To share that kind of an experience with people who love doing the same things you do would be so fun.

Well, I had a little taste of that wonderful encouragement and inspiration last night when I got the chance to meet Laini (Grow Wings), Alexandra (Marvelous madness), Liz (be present, be here), Jennifer (Life's Snapshots) and Deirdre (Writing Anam Cara) for dinner in Portland last night. We were treated to a lovely sushi dinner by Deirdre's wonderfully generous partner, R. (I'm not sure how he feels about being "revealed" in blogs so I'll protect his identity, besides, he might not want to have all his friends knowing he has the habit of picking up tabs for tables full of people he's just met!) A surprise guest joined us for gellato after dinner - Laini's husband Jim (Jimbo Jabber).

What a wonderful time of getting to know these great women (and the fellows, too)! The conversations were rich with encouragement, creativity, and above all, acknowledgement of this wonderful device - blogging - that can bring perfect strangers together to find they have so much in common. I drove home feeling like I need hours more of time to ask each woman all the questions that were swirling in my head. I'm hoping that this was just the first of our get-togethers and that we'll have more opportunities to connect in the future.

(OK - my camera battery was dead so I didn't get any pictures, but go to Jennifer's site to see us posing pretty on the streets of Portland!)

Five years ago . . .

Five years ago, I was getting N. off to second grade and getting J. ready for his first day of pre-school. It was a morning of conflicting emotions. Saddness, joy; loss, pride; peace and fear. I remember asking myself, "Living on the other side of the country from where most of the devastation had occurred, how scared should I really be?" As the tragedy unfolded on the 24-hour news coverage, I realized the risk to me and my family was slight, but it was soon clear, things would forever change.

Things I remember from that day:
- N. walking into the kitchen just as I watched the first tower fall to the ground on our little 13 inch t.v. She asked, "Mommy, what happened to that building." Choking back tears, I explained, "There was a bad accident and it broke the building and it fell down." "Were there people still inside there?" she asked. I had to look away from her 8-year old face as the tears wouldn't stay back any longer. "I hope not," came out of my mouth. "I hope not," came out of my heart.

- We live near a fairly busy community airport. There are always helicopters and small planes flying in the area. After living here 14 years, I almost tune them out, but on September 11, 2001, the skies were eerily silent in our little suburb.

- Hearing the announcement that they closed our nearest shopping mall. In a rare moment of silliness that day, I remember thinking, "Things must be really bad if the mall is closing."

- The flags. The rush of patriotism in the days following. I wore my flag pin today that it took me weeks to find after 9/11. Buying N's soccer team red, white and blue ribbons for their hair for the game that week. Trying to buy an American flag for our house, not knowing why it was all of the sudden so important, but it just was.

- Taking J. to pre-school that day and huddling with some of the other moms in the corner trying to keep the joy of the special day but feeling the heaviness of knowing, however cliche it might have sounded or felt, the world had just changed and our children would live a different life than we ever did.

- Trying to reach my parents by phone in England to make sure they were OK and just to hear their voices.

- In the days following the tragedy, I forced myself to read the obituaries printed in the paper. I finally had to stop as the grief would just press on me like a dark, heavy blanket that I couldn't drop. I kept praying for the families, but for my sanity's sake, I just couldn't read about another family who had lost someone they loved so much.

I received this today from a weekly email service I subscribe to and I thought it might be a fitting way to mark the day. No matter how you express your personal faith, I hope this is one lesson we could all take hold of from that very sad day five years ago.

THE MONDAY MEMO

LET THEM KNOW

In the movie "Love Actually" Hugh Grant's character says in the introduction, "When the planes hit the twin towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge. They were all messages of love."

There's something about tragedy that gives us insight to what really matters. Today we'll be reminded of the terrible events that took place five years ago. We'll hear the stories and see the pictures and relive some of the heartbreak. Hopefully, we'll also capture fresh perspective on what we value most, as individuals and as a society.

Most of us have no trouble expressing our political opinions. Those around us know where we stand on the war, what we think of the President, and who we blame for each turn of events. But do our loved ones know how we feel about them? There are things in life more precious than politics -- even more precious than life itself. These are things over which you have greater influence. You can't, by yourself, change what governments do. But there are some big things you can do single-handedly: You can make sure the special persons in your life know who they are and what they mean to you.

Take some time today to send a message of love. If you don't know how to say it, maybe you can begin with Paul's words to his friends in Philippi, "I thank God every time I think of you." (Philippians 1:3)

--Steve May

A sad day

Today, I made my kids cry. They weren't in trouble. I wasn't pulling out a nasty splinter or ripping off a tough band-aid. I was actually doing something good for them but the response was tears, gasps and sadness that filled their faces and hearts.

I had to tell them the news that one of their childhood idols was gone. The Crocodile Hunter was one of the first shows we used to watch as a family. There was many a Saturday night that we would rush home from church, whip up a plate of nachos and sit down for an exciting night at the Australia Zoo with Steve, Terry and his friends. We went to see their movie on opening day - fans of the Animal Planet and their rising star from down under.

While my kids cried at the news of Steve Irwin's untimely and sad death, I used the opportunity to talk to my kids about following their passions. This man died doing what he absolutely loved to do. He died happy and fulfilled in many ways because he followed his passions while he was alive. I told my kids that I wanted them to always remember the love Steve Irwin had for his work and his family. I told them how I hoped and that I would be praying that they would find something in their lives that they would love just as much. I explained to them no one ever knows how much time they have on this earth, so it is important that we use the time well.

Kind of goes with my Sunday Scribbling post from yesterday. We're here to live a life. It's taken me a while to grasp this, but I don't want my kids to waste one day.

For those of you who pray, please remember my baby girl as she starts her first day of Middle School tomorrow. (Aaaccckk!) She's a bit nervous, but I know she's going to do great. J's taking it all in stride and is excited to see his teacher from last year as he's looping to the next grade with her. Me? I'll be the one heaving a big sigh of relief at about 8:30 am tomorrow when they all are on their way.

Sunday Scribbling - Fortune

Two fortune cookie slips hang on my fridge. Tucked in between the photos of the kids and their laminated Bible verses from Sunday School.

They hang there, trying to be promises, maybe pulling off a bit of motivation, but more recently, they stare accusingly from the freezer door as reminders that there are places in my life that feel empty and lacking.

“Unveil your ideas and be ready to act on them.”

“You will be successful in your career.”

Tonight, Brad and I went to see “Little Miss Sunshine”. There are very few movies that we both really love, but this was one of them. Within the first five minutes, I could feel the sting of un-cried tears behind my eyes. These were people like me. These people were fighting the most frightening of real life monsters – disappointment. They had no super powers, no burly stud muffin that would save them, no clever, intelligent, super-spy hero to save the day. They only had each other and a warped vision of success loaded with the world's expectations.

The older brother has a wonderful sequence of lines in the film. It comes after a heartwrenching realization that one of his goals might be unreachable. It went something like this, pardon my paraphrase, “Life is one beauty pageant after another. F*ck this. F*ck them. I don’t want to be judged by their standards. I say, do what you love and f*ck the rest. If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly.” And by the end of the film, this family embraces this profound truth and it gives them something they hardly realized they were seeking. They slayed the beast. Disappointment was replaced by the sweetest of victories. They were united in their love, in their imperfections and boldly showed their messy selves. And the world did not end. And the next day was a new day. The problems would still be there, but they were ok. The beast of disappointment was banished from the kingdom of the yellow VW bus and never was there a more lovely chariot to carry off those heroes into the sunset.

I left the theater with red puffy eyes, a twinge of a jealous heart (that someone else wrote this gorgeous screenplay, and I didn’t) and a new resolve to be brave enough to dance to the way I want to in a room full of plastic, sequined beauty queens.

Translation: I’m not looking to win the Miss Sunshine contest of writing, blogging, mothering, wifing, daughtering, or anything else. I want to dance to the music I choose. I want to live the life I want. I want to serve my God the way WE decide – not the way I think would be acceptable, agreeable and logical to everyone else.

I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to scream. I want to dance. I want to live full and love deep. And most of all, I want to write. I am a good writer. It’s enough. I don’t need to publish. I don’t need to get paid for it. I don’t need to be the best ever but I DO need to STOP listening to the voices that tell me that I can’t be happy unless that happens.

Screw the fortune cookies. (Except the actual cookie part – I still like that part). The fortunes are coming of the fridge and going in the garbage tonight. I don’t need a slip of paper to tell me what I can or can’t do or pretend to know what’s ahead for me.

I need a little girl with goofy glasses a top hat and a dream. I need to remember, beauty queens eat ice cream. I need to practice my act and be ready to dance. I need to know and accept the journey is often the biggest part of the prize. I’m not going after a fortune, I’m going to live a life.

For more Sunday Scribblings, go here.

(And go see “Little Miss Sunshine”!)

Checkin' in

Who knew walking on the treadmill was so hip?

Check it out.

Yes, I'm still here. It's been a crazy week and I've felt a bit out of sorts. Not much to write share that felt positive, so I just kept it off the blog page - no use spreading the sour grapes!

I'm going to TRY VERY VERY HARD to write my Sunday Scribbling tonight. Or tomorrow . . . Or maybe Tuesday when the kids are back at school.

Oh Summer - *sniff*, why do ya have to leave me now??

The price of joy

Lunch at a burger joint with a monkey named Elvis: $22
Two nights at a hotel room at the coast : $257
Seafood dinner eaten with a view of the bay: $34
Dinner at the Tiki Hut with the nicest hosts you could imagine including a Macaw named Gypsy: $30
Trip to the Newport Aquarium: $24 (with free entry coupons for the kids)
Fixin's for Smores at our beach campfire: $5

A wonderful weekend with the family, creating memories to last a lifetime (or at least through the crazy days of fall): Priceless.

OK, so I borrowed Mastercard's formula, but the fun was all ours. We had a wonderful "last hurrah" of summer weekend at the Oregon Coast. The kids were great (who am I kidding, they always are great!) and the weather was cool and crisp but warm enough to play. We had a wonderful time and feel so blessed to have had this special weekend together. It was a busy summer for us and fall is always crazy with Brad heading back to school, both kids in soccer and my work gearing up for one of its busiest times. (In fact, I really should be working now, but I couldn't wait to share the fun pictures with you all. I promise, I'll post and then it's straight to work for the rest of the day!) The memories and experiences of the weekend will hopefully get us through the busy months to come.

I'm so blessed to have a husband who makes so many sacrifices for his family (painting houses all summer so we have the money to do fun things like this) and kids who are so good and appreciate spending time with their parents. With N. heading off to middle school next week, I know the days of wanting to "hang out" with her parents will quickly become fewer and I'm trying to make sure I make the most of this time while I still can.

Hope you are all enjoying the last days of summer. Leave me a note in the comments if you have any special traditions to close out the season!

"It is required you do awake Your faith." - W. Shakespeare

A few weeks ago I had the treat of seeing one of the plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland. It really was the highlight of the summer in many ways. I went with my dear friend Rene, who has always been one of my favorite people to talk theater with. She attended Hofstra University and did theater work in New York and in London before coming home to the northwest. She and her girls were here for 4 weeks and we had so much fun with them! They left Sunday and I miss them already! She is one of my "easy" friends. Easy to be around, easy to laugh with, easy to be real with.

The hard part was choosing what play to see. We chose "The Winter's Tale" because it's rarely staged by Shakespeare companies. I'm not sure why, except that of all his plays, it has the least amount of political intrigue or bawdy humor or classical romance. It really is a spiritual play and deals with such a interesting premise: do we really listen to the counsel of our friends? How can one trust the truth and can we be forgiven for turning our back on it?

In Sicilia King Leontes and Queen Hermione, deeply in love, await the birth of their second child. King Polixenes of Bohemia, Leontes' best friend since boyhood, has come for a lengthy visit. Then, in an instant, Leontes becomes convinced that his wife and his friend are lovers and that Polixenes fathered Hermione's child. No one can convince him otherwise, though they try valiantly. He is adamant in his belief and has a "hit" put out on his friend and banishes his wife to prison.

I wont ruin the play for those who haven't read or seen it yet, but there is somewhat of a happy ending. But years of pain and loss come to Leontes and those around him because of this tragic breakdown in communication. Through it all, there is one character that craftily, yet boldly, tells him the truth, that his wife was faithful and he is wrong in his accusations.

I loved watching her character (Paulina) as she walked that fine line that could bring Leontes back to reality or wind up costing her own life and freedom. It was like holding your breath watching her dance around a live minefield as she crafted arguments in defense of Queen Hermione. Though it took 16 years for Leontes to repent and admit that she was right, she was a faithful friend to him through the years, never judging him but providing him with the truth in measurements that wouldn't tip his fragile mental scales. Until the day when he was ready to admit to the fullness of his error. Then she pulled no punches and let him walk through the pain of his actions and realize the tragic consequences. But because it's Shakespeare, nothing is left as you would expect it and reunions and marriages go hand in hand with acts of confessions and repentance. It really is a wonderful story and I'd urge anyone to see it if given the chance.

The story of Leontes has lodged itself in my mind like a pebble in my shoe. I seem to be thinking about it often and seeing the threads of this concept in the world around me. Who are our friends and do we really listen to them? And, are we the kind of friends who will tell the truth, regardless of the negative circumstances that might come?

Michelle at Full Soul asked her readers the other day about whether she should confront friends in dangerous relationships. I've been treading water at work, not wanting to rock the boat and speak up about issues that should probably be addressed. When Rene was here we both shared stories about people who had hurt us that we had never confronted. When I disagree or have issues with someone, including my family, I'm always running my feelings and responses through a very tight filter that edits out anything that might seem abrasive, divisive, offensive, hurtful or rebellious. Unfortunately, after that, there might not be much left of how I'm truly feeling.


I have begun to wonder, why is it that in many circumstances today, speaking the truth or hearing the truth can be so - questionable? When did the truth become something that was so hard to hold onto, like a slippery baby in the bathtub who would rather be free of the safety of her mother's hands, but for her own sake, needs to be protected, contained, and restrained? Why do the seeds of doubt in my own ability to know what is real, what is right, what is true, seem to grow noxious weeds that choke my ability to speak up? I doubt I'm the only one who struggles with this. How would our world situation be different right now if people in power listened to those around them who were brave enough to tell the whole truth?

Ahh, the listening part. Do I really listen to the ones who speak the truth? Or do I listen to the tapes in my head that claim, "That can't be, you don't deserve such happiness, you can't be successful, you don't have the drive, the ambition to make it so." Am I stumbling through my life like Leontes believing falsehoods when the truth is right in front of me? Will I end up wasting 16 years (or more) in this delusion? Who will I hurt in the process besides myself?

I love the questions that old Will leaves us with in the play and hope to find my way closer to the answers. I really want to be someone who boldly speaks the truth, seeks the truth, lives in truth and confronts with the truth. I left the play that day thinking, "Wow - if I was an actress, I'd love to play Paulina."

Wow - in my life, I'd really like to be more like Paulina. Telling the truth and saving kingdoms, one person at a time.

The Welcome Mat

Summer is a tough time to blog. The desire is there but the sunshine and the outside activities seem to pull like a magnet. The smell of cut grass, blooming flowers and the musty smell of cool water against the warm pavement are hypnotic. The glowing lights of the monitor have no chance against the evening sun setting in the sky and the sounds of the kids playing "Sardines" in the street.

But the draw to blog is there also. In between trips to the pool, watering plants, having garage sales, cleaning said garage after the sale and all the other fun activities, I have been keeping up on my favorites and adding some new ones. At the beginning and ends of my day I often find myself stealing a few minutes to check on my favorites and make sure I'm not missing out on your pearls of wisdom or gems of humor.

In honor of some of my friends who have recently started blogs (Cheryl & Paula) and some recently discovered new favorites, I'm dusting off the welcome mat. If you have a chance, stop by their blogs and encourage them with a "welcome to blogging" comment. I know that meant so much to me in my early blogging days. You can look at my Blogrolling links to the left to see some of my friends and my favorites. If you haven't visted them yet, check out Michelle at Full Soul Ahead and Jenny at Roughly Speaking. Their efforts to move forward in their blooming writing careers have motivated and inspired me.

And if you're not participating in Sunday Scribblings yet, well, why not? It's a fun and encouraging way to practice your writing skills with a creative and often eye-opening prompt. I'd encourage you to check out the very talented writers that particpate each week. It's been a great way to connect with bloggers from all parts of the world and read some very amazing stories.

My bloggie-friend Amber continues to amaze me with her raw and honest writing about the struggles of her life and how she has overcome them. She has an absolutely heart-wrenching post up today that is worth the read for anyone who feels lost and is struggling to understand the trials they are in. I am so grateful for her insight and how she uses the lessons learned from her own pain to encourage others through theirs.

Pimping my Honey: Not to brag or anything, but go to my friend Dean's blog to read about a really cool project my hubby was involved in this summer. (Read the two entries about the roof.)

Lastly, I've been grazing through a stack of books this summer working on my creativity in respect to writing. This morning I read this in Julia Cameron's, The Artist's Way and it made me think of all my blogging friends.

"Artists love other artists. Shadow artists are gravitating to their rightful tribe but cannot yet claim their birthright. Very often audacity, not talent, makes one person an artist and another a shadow artist - hiding in the shadows, afraid to step out and expose the dream to the light, fearful that it will disintegrate to the touch."

I think one of the reasons I love blogging so much is because I'm in that shaddow spot and working up the courage to step into the light. I think I've got maybe a foot out so far, but slowly and surely, I'm drawing enough wisdom, encouragement and power from those who are living their dreams that someday I'll emerge with words and stories and characters to share with anyone who will read them. So thanks to all of you, and you're welcome at my door, physical or virtual, anytime!

Sunday Scribbling - What else could I still be?

I have been a Sunday Scribbling Slacker. A lazy, drunk with the sunshine, summertime slothful, avoiding anything that takes too much brain power, kind of a slacker.

I skipped last week. The "What could I have been . . ." post just would have been too daunting. Too convicting. Perhaps, if I'm honest, it seemed like it would be too disappointing.

This week's post seems a bit more hopeful but I still catch myself with a bit of the "why bothers". But in the spirit of wishing upon a star, following dreams and making them come true just like my favorite Disney films, here is what could be in the life of Kim . . .

I could be a concert violinist, except that I sold my violin for money towards a down payment on our home. But maybe, I could find a disgruntled little kid that didn't want theirs anymore and I could practice until I was good enough to play again with an orchestra. I could travel the world with a renowned maestro and play in the greatest concert halls in the world.

I could be a writer for a successful television show with characters that make you weep through their trials and sufferings and laugh at their clever lines. I could sit with the stars at the Golden Globes and hear my name called as one of the writers of the best Drama of the year.

I could be an artist. The kind that move you with their images of color form and feeling. I could wake each day with the knowledge that I could share an experience with my creator and CREATE something that day. I could feel the pleasure, the awe, the agony, the joy of bringing something beautiful into the world.

I could be a singer, the kind who sounds like they were dropped from heaven and carry every bit of divinity in the blend of notes that comes from their throats. They would play my songs on the radio and my favorite singers would be calling begging to do a duet with me.

I could be a spy. One that speaks eight languages and carries passports from different countries and know secret codes and saves lives on a daily basis. I would make sure the bad guys are put away and the crooked ones were exposed for their lies. I would uncover the plots and plans of those who seek to hurt the innocent and I would always do it in the snappiest looking outfits.

I could write a novel. A really good one. One that is taught in college courses by the smartest of graduate students who know what really good literature is. I could be added to the great "list" that everyone talks about of all the great books one should read. I could be invited to Oprah and she could sing my praises to her beloved Gail and the rest of the world and beg me to write another book that she could slap her big "O" sticker upon. I could walk into Powell's and see my book with a staff recommendations tag underneath it.

I could be a mom that raises kids who know how to live, how to be kind and how to help others. I could love them unconditionally and support them in any thing they choose to do, even if it's working at Taco Bell. I could be the kind of wife who faithfully supports her husband and laughs at his silly jokes, hugs him when he is handed disappointment and always remembers him as the stunning guy in the tux who took her breath away those years ago.

I could be a grandmother someday. One who spoils her grandkids and tells stories of how their parents used to misbehave. I could be the one who listens, really listens to their stories, treasures their crayon masterpieces and actually wears their Fruit Loop necklaces.

I could be a lifelong friend. Always willing to help, to encourage, to nurture and to challenge those who grace me with their time and their love. I could remember birthdays, anniversaries and even the losses of life and always be ready with a loaf of banana bread, a card or a glass of good chardonnay depending on the occasion.

I could be all of that, or none of that. Time will tell. And who knows what tomorrow will bring? Perhaps the FBI will be knocking on my door tomorrow. Better check my closet for snappy outfits . . .

For more stories of what could be, go here.

The good news, the bad news and any old news

Okay - time for some fun.

Today's headlines were a veritable buffet line of snark and fun mixed with a bit of hope. Who can resist these headlines?

"Twin Pandas Each Give Birth to Twins in China" - So exciting! A boost to the conservation efforts of these beautiful creatures. Do you think they're registered at Babies R Us?

Not to be outdone by the Pandas . . .
"Colorado-born Lynx has Twin Kittens" Awwww - ain't that sweet! Love is in the air . . . and speaking of kittens . . .

"Pictures of Tomkitten to Come This Fall" - seems only appropriate that one of the most bizarre Hollywood couples would treat their kid like a pilot program for a network channel. "Let's wait for sweeps week and then release her photo! Yeah - that's the ticket!" Groan.

"Robin Williams in Rehab" - OK not to get too snarky here, but what the heck took the media so long to figure this one out? There have been reports of sightings of him here in Oregon for weeks. I have to believe this only became a real story AFTER the Mel Gibson escapade. Drunk celebrities are news this week, next week they'll just be just . . . well, drunk celebrities.

"Another Reality TV Marriage Flames Out" Oh my gosh, really? (snark) Travis Barker of Blink-182 and beauty queen Shanna Moakler announced they are divorcing. Let's see, Nick & Jess, Dave & Carmen, Travis & Shanna - MTV as a matchmaker? 0 for 3.

"McCartneys Hire Charles & Diana Lawyers" Oh the British Press have to be drooling like dogs at the butcher shop window. "It's all getting Muccy" says The Sun. (A play on McCartney's last name.) This will be fodder for the rags for months if it drags on the way they're predicting. OK - who are Paul McCartney's friends and advisors? They should all be tarred and feathered in Traffalager Square for letting this guy get married without a pre-nup. Duh!


"Extra Finger Leads Salem Police to Arrest" This one's courtesy of the local news here in Oregon (KGW - Newschanel 8). Yup - we got some smart criminal types out here.

When police asked suspect Kenneth McPherson for his name, he gave officers his brother'’s name and date of birth instead, said Lt. Steve Bellshaw with the Salem Police Department.

However, police quickly uncovered McPherson'’s lie -- a check of the brother's criminal history revealed he only had nine fingers.

“Officers quickly verified the person they had in custody was in possession of all 10 of his fingers,” Bellshaw said. “When confronted by the ‘extra’ finger, McPherson gave up his true identity and the fact he had four warrants for his arrest, all previous drug-related charges.”

McPherson was charged with giving false information to a police officer.

"World Trade Center Movie Opens" - I have nothing snarky to say about this one. In fact, I'm a bit frustrated with critics who say it's too soon to be doing movies about this catastrophic event. Excuse me, but I'm personally grateful that there are those that will keep this event in front of us so we don't forget. It is far to easy to slip into denial and complacancy and forget our vulnerabilities. I don't want to live our lives in fear, but we must keep some sort of awareness that there are those few, but crazy individuals that would like to see us destroyed simply because we are Americans. I'm very interested in collecting those hooligans and locking them away. My idea of the perfect torture would be to have them watch a continuous cycle of "Teletubbies", Reruns of the best of Tammy Faye Bakker and the best of Sesame Street (this last one so they could see what good world citizens really look like!) The rest of their countrymen and women, I'd like to wish them well and say, "Peace - live your lives - worship as you desire - practice your culture as you desire and please grant us the same."

And the best headline today (in my humble opinion) . . .

"Israel on Hold" If they can't hang up, we'll take a hold. Please Lord, stop this suffering for all involved. Those of you who pray, or practice, or think positive thoughts, please lift up those thoughts and prayers that walls of pride will fall and reason will prevail and a cease fire will be reached quickly.

The Messenger

From the August 14th Issue of Newsweek Magazine, a great story about Billy Graham and his life and ministry. To read more go here.

"A unifying theme of Graham's new thinking is humility. He is sure and certain of his faith in Jesus as the way to salvation. When asked whether he believes heaven will be closed to good Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus or secular people, though, Graham says: 'Those are decisions only the Lord will make. It would be foolish for me to speculate on who will be there and who won't ... I don't want to speculate about all that. I believe the love of God is absolute. He said he gave his son for the whole world, and I think he loves everybody regardless of what label they have.' Such an ecumenical spirit may upset some Christian hard-liners, but in Graham's view, only God knows who is going to be saved: 'As an evangelist for more than six decades, Mr. Graham has faithfully proclaimed the Bible's Gospel message that Jesus is the only way to Heaven,' says Graham spokesman A. Larry Ross. 'However, salvation is the work of Almighty God, and only he knows what is in each human heart.'"

How different the world might be if all leaders would be so humble. A great man with a great message.

Peace in the Neighborhood

It's been a strange and sad day today. I knew it would be hard. A friend and I planned a garage sale because this was the only open Saturday from here until Christmas it seems. I drove 6 hours yesterday from Ashland after getting only a few hours of sleep the night before. My friend and I had been talking into the wee hours of the morning and it made for an exhausting few hours last night as I tried to move table, sort through boxes and price my "treasures" for the sale today. A few hours of sleep in my own bed helped and I was up at 6:15 am today hoping for a successful sale.

My friend arrived with a cup of Starbucks for me and we quickly set to work setting out our wares. Usually I absolutely love doing garage sales. I love chatting with people and teasingly convincing some of the shy ones to dig deeper into the boxes and look more closely at the tables to find the treasures they are looking for. But today was hard. It was hot and after having an episode of heat exhaustion last week after the fair (one that consisted of the worst headache of my life and a queasy stomach that threatened to revolt if I even walked by the door of a bathroom), I really wasn't wanting a repeat of that experience. I forgot to put sunscreen on so I'm sitting here with a burning face and shoulders. I made out okay but still have boxes to get rid of in my garage (it was too hot to take them to Goodwill this afternoon so I'm taking them tomorrow).

But what has me bummed is more than the weather or the dismal sales. Today a piece of my Eden was encroached upon. My vision of my perfect neighborhood had a big greasy loogie hocked upon it. As one of the garage sale patrons walked up the driveway I greeted her and asked if I could help her find anything. She said, "Do you know your neighbors very well?" Thinking, what an interesting question, I prepared to launch into my very well practiced speech about how I loved my neighborhood and how great all the families are and how I love it on my street, she spoke before I could start. "Your neighbors are fighting down the street and I'm wondering if you should call someone."

My neighbors? My neighbors don't fight. I thought she must be mistaken. It must be a road rage kind of thing with some of the people who had just left the garage sale. I grabbed my cell phone and started walking the few houses down the block. My heart sunk as I saw my neighbor in her driveway, sobbing, standing shaking in front of the driver's side door of her husband's truck. He was screaming at her and her mother as my other neighbor was in the driveway on the phone with 911. I walked over as the man strode back in the house and was able to comfort the distraught woman. The man stormed back outside yelling at me and the other neighbor to leave and mind our business with many colorful adjectives thrown in to express just how angry he was. He then tried again to manhandle his wife, twisting her arm to get her away from the truck. She's a big gal and to her credit, stood her ground. You see, he had already been in two fender-benders that morning, had a few beers after that and was clearly just not himself. This is one of the most gentle and kindest guy. I NEVER would have believed you if you would have told me he was capable of doing and saying what I saw and heard today.

Three patrol cars later, they finally decided that it might be more of a medical issue than a true abuse issue. He had started some new medication and he was sent to the hospital to be checked out. Unfortunately, the discharged him within two hours and because they are not legally married, the did not tell my friend anything about his condition. When she went to go pick him up at the hospital, he refused to come with her and started on another verbal attack. He was still clearly altered, not knowing what day it was and acting so strangely. I took one of her sons for the evening and brought him with my kids to church and fed him dinner. When I brought him home, "J" was at home sleeping it off. My neighbor says she thinks he'll probably wake tomorrow and not remember what happened.

Not remember that he acted like an abuser in front of his kids and neighbors? I don't think so. If he needs his memory jogged, I think I'll remind him. I'm
not wanting to punish the guy, if it really was a medical issue, than I'm all ready to forgive (NOT forget, mind you) and let him work at earning back the trust I once gave him. But if it's not, buddy - you just might want to find another neighborhood because if you don't want neighbors that step in when you're acting like an ass, then you need to move. Because I'm not going anywhere.

That was just ONE of the cruddy things that happened today. My other neighbor, the good Samaritan that was on the phone, found out today that his brother has days to live. It wasn't his favorite day either. Tonight, we had a guest speaker at church from a theological seminary in Lebanon. He is stuck in the US and can't get home. He gave an amazing picture of the true depth of the conflict of the Middle East and had an interesting perspective on what might bring about a resolution. He basically advocates that by the US using the term "terrorist" we create an image of a sub-human group of people. There are those that commit specific acts of terror, but they include ANY military organization that target civilians with harm. By labeling some terrorists, we absolve ourselves of the need to pursue active dialogue and pursue real and true resolutions. He likened it to the story/myth of the man who was fighting a fierce battle, feeling attacks on all sides, but then woke to find he was fighting a windmill. When will we as a country wake to see the windmill? What will we do, as Christians, as the church, as a follower of Christ, do to make sure we are part of a solution based on justice, mercy and love? I left with a heavy heart, but I think, no, I know, that God is not always interested in our comfort.

He's done his job. I'm plenty uncomfortable tonight.

I will pray that I'll come to a new level of understanding of who God is and what he wants for me in all these situations. And that I have the courage to act - even if it's only to walk on my street with the hope for peace here and in every neighborhood from here to Lebanon.

Note to self: watch out for those high horses . . . and a birthday wish

Thanks everyone for your great comments on my last post. I know that parenting issues and especially conversations about discipline can become "hot" issues very quickly. Please know that I in no way intended to hurt or offend anyone by my comments. I sincerely apologize if you felt that way. I really appreciated the positive tone of all of your comments, even those of you who didn't agree with my position. Thank you for being so gracious and know that I respect all of your positions on parenting.

Michelle, thanks for your comments about raising a special needs child. I am such a fan of your blog and am so overwhelmed by your devotion to Riley and making sure she gets every opportunity to enjoy and be successful in her life. I love how you call Riley your teacher and I feel the same about my children. I learn so much about myself through them and the most revealing lessons seem to come when they are in rebellion mode. How will I react? How will I respond? How will I use this moment to teach them what they need to know one year from now, five years from now, ten years from now? I get the impression from reading your blog that we're probably closer in parenting philosophy than it might seem from reading my last post. I know that you must adapt for Riley's needs but I sense that you actively work at teaching her strategies to deal with the behavior issues that she struggles with. Thank you for the very gentle, but firm reminder that I don't always know what's going on behind the fits and tantrums that other kids may throw. I needed to hear that. We all need to hear that. Those high horses can look pretty good and we might want to climb on their backs when our kids are acting like little angels while others are acting like little turds, but the thing about high horses is they may look good, but they're still full of, well you know . . .

I do know that every kid is different. Every family is different. And I agree, each parent must find their own way. I guess where my "2 cents" post came from is having some friends at church, in the neighborhood and at my kids' schools where the parents moan and groan about behavior problems but make no changes to what they are doing to try to solve them. I think when offered the chance to share, I just wanted to offer something that has worked for me. Kind of like sharing a good recipe, you just want others to enjoy the sweet stuff you have found.

Again, thanks to you all for the great comments. I appreciate the challenges and the encouragements!

* * * * * * *

Fun at the fair!

I wrote in one of my previous posts that I entered some photos in the county fair. Well, we didn't win anything, but here are some pictures of our entries.



























Happy Birthday Little Princess!

Today, my baby girl turns 12! Agghh! Where have the years gone? She came into the world a big bundle of sunshine and she continues to light my days! Happy Birthday sweetie!

Sunday Scribblings - My two cents

One of my dreams is to be an expert. In what? It doesn’t really matter. I just want to be one of those people that when there is some sort of crisis or breaking news story, they put a microphone in front of you and ask your opinion. Portland has an FBI spokeswoman that I have a little bit of a girl crush on. She as cool as ice when they start asking her questions and her answers always sound incredibly intelligent and you never question her expertise as a spokesperson and agent.

I want to be an expert.

I’m not sure in what area, but when Laini and Megg gave us the prompt for Sunday Scribblings this week, they pretty much said, “Have at it! Give us your opinion on anything.” So, in humility, knowing I’m NOT an expert but, being given the mic so to speak, I’d like to talk about something that pushes my buttons. Disciplining kids.

A few weeks ago, I posted about my lovely but fussy little nieces that spent the night with me. They wanted the nuts picked out of their eight-grain bread, girl-colored sleeping bags and wanted their own personal popcorn taster to make sure my brand of popcorn was not sub-standard to their home brand. I mentioned in my blog how I really felt that my kids were not that fussy and Laini asked how I had managed to raise kids like that. Well, I firmly believe it started before my kids were even born.

You see, I read a book that was a bit controversial but had come at the recommendation of a few friends. It was called “Growing Kids God’s Way” and it advocated some parenting practices and foundations that run a bit contrary to society’s view. Now before you think I’m some kind of cultish, over the top kind of person, let me just tell you - I’m not. I don’t consider myself a blind follower and there were some points of this book that I knew weren’t for me, but there were some basic philosophies that just made sense considering my belief system and what I believed to be true about the way we work as human beings. In this book I learned some basic philosophies on parenting based on 1) the Bible and 2) statistical data and testimonials to support their theories. Their basic foundations were:

Your child is a gift from God. She is precious and you are called to love her, care for her and teach her. However, your child should never become the center of your life. The moment you do that, you elevate them to a place they’re not meant to occupy and you put expectations on them that they will meet your needs instead of it being the other way around. A child doesn’t know what to do with these expectations and they can often lead to confusion and aggravate normal behavior issues to a point where they become overwhelming. My most important relationship is with my Creator, followed by my Husband, then comes my children.

I have always shown my children that I dearly love them and they are such a blessing in my life. But, I have always sought to teach them also a level of humility and acceptance that THEY ARE NOT THE CENTER OF MY WORLD and I’m not here on this earth to serve them. That is why my children understand, if all we have is 8-grain bread, they will need to put up with the nuts and mom is NOT here to be their personal nut-remover. Seriously, they know that I deeply consider their needs and their desires, but there is no guarantee that they will get what they want in every circumstance. I began this from day one of their little lives and so now as 9 and 12 year olds, they know, throwing fits doesn’t get them anywhere. Mom and Dad make the decisions, not the kids. I feel like setting these boundaries and being consistent with them has helped my kids in tremendous ways with dealing with disappointment, setting goals, and being very flexible and adaptable to new situations.

One of their other basic foundations was that kids need boundaries. Sounds good enough, but I can’t tell you how many might interpret this statement differently. My opinion – kids need more than just a line drawn in the sand. They need a six foot barbed wire fence. This is the point where some might shake their head and think, “She’s too restrictive, she’s too strict, she’ll suffocate her children with rules and regulations.” I would argue that if you spent a day with me and my kids, you’d see just the opposite is true. My barbed wire fences started out close in when the kids were young. They learned early on that mom and dad meant business when we said “no”. It meant “no”. As they got older and decided to test this more assertively, they realized the harsh consequences of trying to climb over the barbed wire fence. There was pain and discomfort. Not literal (although we have used spanking when appropriate – more when they were younger toddlers and swats on the behind carried more meaning that long discussions of the need to obey out of respect and safety). We made sure that if the kids chose to willfully disobey the rules we had established, there were consequences that meant something. As a result, we try to reserve those for the big infractions because we know that often a removal of a privilege or imparting discipline means disrupts the normal flow of the family but it is SO important in establishing respect and authority in the home and, most importantly, demonstrating love.

Those fences are often protection from things and situations they just are not ready for. As the kids get older and they see us push the fences out as they earn respect and trust, they see that those fences are built with love and a desire to see them succeed as human beings and not the desire to make their lives miserable.

Now let me just end by saying very clearly, my kids are not perfect. They still disobey. They still have respect issues sometimes (especially the 12 year old). They blow it – just like me. I am not anywhere near a perfect parent. I yell when I shouldn’t, I sometimes let things slide when I shouldn’t. But, I have tried to make sure that the majority of the time, I am holding the principles I’ve listed above. When I do, I see growth in my kids and in me as a mom. When I don’t, that’s when things start slipping into chaos. I can tell the natural order of things is off and we are all walking around in a grumpy funk. I know that every family is different and I firmly believe the same principles can be applied in two different families and look totally different but I’m a firm believer from the success we’ve had in our family that these ideas work for raising healthy, well-balanced, flexible and respectful kids.

And that’s my very humble two cents worth . . .

If you need more change in your pocket, read other writers' two cents worth here.

Late bloomer

This has been quite a year for me. Always a fan of the written word and an avid book junkie since toddlerhood, my love of reading has been a constant in my life. Right on it's heels was a simmering desire to write. The stories and essays were always there in my head, like a constant humming of people talking behind a closed door. This year the proverbial "heat" was turned up and the door cracked open as circumstances propelled me towards realizing this desire to be one that puts words to paper for the enrichment of my soul and the hopeful encouragement of others. There were opportunities through my job, my volunteer ministry and even in furthering my education through a writing intensive class.

And then there's blogging.

Who would have known that this wonderful world existed a year ago? I thought blogs were for hormonal, pimply teenagers to share secrets, slander and smut. Who would've known that I would connect with REAL writers, published authors, people who KNOW HOW TO WRITE and get paid for it? (Or at least, have their words published in a periodical of some variety.) Who would have known that I could learn so much from reading the daily writings of others, professionals and amateurs but all passionate about sharing their heart? How could I have imagined how their wonderfully creative expressions would ignite fires in my own creative heart that would start slowly, like a gentle flickering flame, but hold all the promise of blazing into a roaring campfire - if I keep feeding it? Who would have known? Not me.

As I get ready to watch another birthday scream past me at warp speed this weekend, I thought it would be fun to list ten things that I've done in the past year to bring me closer to the goal of having my writing "out there" for public consumption.

1. Wrote a 14 day devotional for adults taking short term trips overseas. Wrote introductions and study questions from the Bible about grace, justice, mercy, love and provision. I loved this project!

2. Adapted the 14 day devotional for a group of kids that went on one of the trips.

3. Started journaling again. Not super regular on the hand-written journaling, but trying to be better about this honest, truthful and sriving for UNEDITED writing.

4. Served on a "print team" for a major fundraising event. A great opportunity to work on a team of devoted folks for a great cause.

5. Participated in a very fun book club that kept me from reading the same kinds of books over and over. A great group of gals who have challenged me to keep thinking about why authors write the way they write.

6. Took a class about writing Bible studies from the local seminary. (The very kind teacher, a published author of studies herself wrote lovely comments on my work and even said she would pray that I would find a publisher - wow, that was a boost to my fragile ego!)

7. Was asked to write a study for our women's group by a highly respected woman in our church. She has been so supportive of me through this process and is one of my greatest cheerleaders. It's such an honor to be asked by her!

8. Took a "spiritual retreat" day in June. Wrote, took photos, walked and just enjoyed time with my Creator.

9. Entered one of my rose pictures in the county fair! (It's at the top of this post.) Something I NEVER thougth I would do! Tomorrow the fair opens and we're going to go see it hung with all the other ARTISTS and I will smile as I think of all the very talented women whose blogs have inspired me over the past few months.

10. STARTED A BLOG! One of the best things I could have done as it has allowed me to read so many GREAT blogs, "meet" so many interesting people and learn so much about the creative process. The words of encouragement and challenge have meant so much and I am so thankful for this. The act of journaling online, writing to prompts and peeling back the layers of writing "propriety" to get to the heart is something that I know will take my writing to a deeper, purer level.

When I see all that I've done in a year, I'm not so depressed about turning a year older. I will drink a glass of chardonay in the twilight of the evening, smile at the sleepy stars coming out for their night-shift and say a little prayer for all the women who have inspired me this year to be true to my God, be true to my heart and to be true to the desire to WRITE and CREATE!

Too much of a good thing

After posting my Sunday Scribbling yesterday came the trickle of regrets.

It was too long.

I didn't link to Sunday Scribblings (sorry Laini and Megg).

It was too preachy, too goody-goody, too foofy. It didn't really express the grit and sweat and passion that I would have wanted for an allegory about my personal faith.

It was a bit presumptious and egotistical to write it and post it. Too much like many other Christians that I don't appreciate when they try to sugar-coat what it takes to follow Christ.

I'm reading "The Artist's Way" right now and have just gotten to the part where she begins to talk about our inner Censor. No introductions were needed as my inner Censor jumped to attention as I was reading that part and squealed with delight at being recognized as part of the creative process. She didn't quite get that she's the NEGATIVE part of the creative process. The truth is, my Sunday Scribbling post this week was far more a product of my Censor than of me. I had to disguise my story in fairytale ballgowns to make it acceptable for the audience. Somehow, I don't think this is really what my creative self wants to write. The story is there, but it's like it's playing dress-up in someone elses clothing.

Well, we (me and my censor) have some things to work on, that's for sure. Thanks for reading these ramblings and sticking with me.

On a lighter note, my good friend flew into town a few hours ago from Muscatine, Iowa for a four week visit (she's staying with her mom). We have lots of fun things in mind for the weeks ahead, one of which is a trip to Oregon's famous Shakespeare Festival in Ashland next week to see a play and have a night out on the town. I can't wait! There's some birthdays this weekend (mine, my daughter's and my mother-in-law's) so I'm sure there will be some good eats and fun to come with that. And it is FINALLY supposed to cool off a bit this week. We pansy Oregonians just aren't used to living in desert conditions!