Forever Learning

Sometimes I get tired enough that all I want to do is lie on my couch, absorb (or not) my favorite television show and pretend that the world doesn't exist. But for the most part, I enjoy learning new things. I'm not very adventurous when it comes to doing new things, but I do love learning.

I've been involved in martial arts classes for a handful of years now. One of the (many) things I love about my classes is that there is always something new to learn. On the surface, I'm still going over things I was taught the very first time I stepped on the mat. In reality, I'm still practicing all those original moves and building on top of them with new and varying techniques. There are times I'm overwhelmed with new information. However, I absolutely love learning new combinations or moves and working at memorizing them (especially if it involves hitting things).

Finding an online course for Photoshop has been a highlight of this past year. Although the tests at the end of each section were sometimes difficult, I had an absolute blast gaining new information and learning brand new things I could use with such a fascinating program. I can't tell you how many techniques I wished I knew three years ago while working on particular projects. If only. But at least now I know them and I'm using them quite often in my digital art endeavors.

I recently talked about how much I love books. Lately I've been reading up on particular angles of human behaviors and nonverbal communication. I'm captivated by the information tucked in those pages. How people interact. Speak to each other. Physically react. How we perceive each other and the world around us. What to say and how to respond, depending on what another person says or how they behave themselves. Talk about a complicated web of possible scenarios and outcomes.

This fall, I'll be taking a class at a community college on graphic communication. Once again, I'm looking forward to learning something new and putting it to use in the workplace.

All these things are really just a small fraction of items that I'm learning every day. And I'm not alone in this. Everyone is constantly learning all the time, even when it's not obvious. Have you ever stopped to wonder how on earth our brains can handle all of that? I am forever amazed at how God has wired the human mind, enabling us to actually learn every single day without maxing out. Unlike a computer, we don't run out of space. (Although I've witnessed how age can be a bit of a detriment when it comes to retaining information!) We don't need batteries, external hard drives or more RAM. Incredible.

Here's hoping for many more years of learning new things. It's just more fun that way.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment!

Newsworthy Soapbox

News. I get it. People want to know what's happening 24/7, whether it's next door or three countries over. Humans are curious by nature and we like to know what's going on around us because it makes us feel more in control. The more in control we feel, the more secure we feel. The more secure we feel, the less stress we feel. The happier we are. You get the idea.

What I don't get is the intentional (and constant) intake of sad, gruesome, tragic and downright disgusting stories and images connected to the news. Every. Single Day.

Whether I'm listening to the radio, scrolling through my Facebook homepage or watching television, I am bombarded with the most tragic stories ever told. House fires. Car accidents. Suicides. Bombers. Kids being eaten by alligators. Kids being dragged off by gorillas. Shootings. Mass killings. War. Starvation. Disease-bearing mosquitoes. The list goes on. And on. And on. And on.

If you like watching the evening news, then just stop reading this now, because I'm on my soapbox, and I'm not getting off til I've finished.

I hate the news. With a passion. It's nice to know when I need to be on guard, whether from prairie fires, or a nearby gas station robbery. But why do I have to hear ten different versions of a child being murdered? Why do I have to read, see, and hear all about a car accident that killed three teenagers? Why do I have to witness the horrific images of death and destruction every time I turn on the television or visit my Facebook page?

I despise the news networks and the way they exploit people and stories just to be dramatic. Yes, I'm saddened by senseless killings. Yes, I'm all for being aware of wars around us. Yes, I get it. But do you really need to hold a camera and microphone in front of the mother who just watched her kid gunned down? Do you really need to stand there in the pouring rain and look like an idiot in knee-high rubber boots to tell me that someone got swept away in a flood? Do you really need to show me bloody victims running from a recent bombing? Are you really pursuing the sharing of news or do you just want good ratings for drama? Why isn't the news rated R for violence?

The weather report is about the only thing I appreciate about the news hour. Every once in a while there will actually be some good news or a cute story or an inspirational thought tied in with a news-worthy article, and those I enjoy. The thing is, those are around us every single day, yet the people in charge of the cameras and stories don't find them valuable enough to share. People won't watch that stuff. Their ratings will go down. They have to be on scene at the next tragic event before their neighbor news station so they get the bigger scoop.

I'm not trying to minimize the reality of our ever-worsening world. I'm not trying to say that the lives in the sickening stories shared aren't of value. But in this case...my ignorance really is bliss. It's not even so much that I don't want to be aware - I just don't want all the graphic details shoved down my throat by the reporters who squeeze out every last drop of drama they can. Go watch a movie. There's plenty of action and violence there to go around. I don't need to worry about real life any more than I already do. Don't make me shed any more tears than I already do over pointless murders and children whose lives are ripped apart.

If you like watching the news and you've actually read this far, don't take my opinion personally. If you dig that kind of stuff, then more power to ya. The news is catering to folks who live to know about the next murder, house fire, and car accident. I'm happy to hear about caught criminals, weather warnings, heroes (although it's sad to see the small selection of people the news deems eligible for the title "hero"), and stories of survival. No, I'm not burying my head in the sand - I'm just tired of being inundated with tragedy.

The more technology advances, the more aware we are of everything happening in every corner of the world. But sometimes I wonder if that's helping or hurting us. Yes, there is a sense of security (albeit false at times) in knowledge. But I have a sneaking suspicion that if we were blissfully ignorant of just a small percentage of newsworthy items, we might feel just a bit less stress. Of course, I also wonder about the one-sided perspectives and truthfulness of the the stories we hear, but that would be a whole different blog post.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment!

Roses are Red, Days are Too Busy...

"Take time to stop and smell the roses." That's a phrase I've been familiar with almost all my life. I've never been able to understand people who are always on the go. Busy, busy, busy. Too active to actually stop for just a few seconds and smell the proverbial roses. I've always been quite content with a slower lifestyle. A quieter one. A lifestyle that allows for early bedtimes, naps, and hot baths - leaning towards being an introvert helps, I'm sure. I know some people are not busy by choice. There are families to care for, jobs to do, and responsibilities stacked to the ceiling. I get it. And I've got my own set of responsibilities that keeps me on the go as well.

Lately though, even with a very slow lifestyle (in some people's eyes), I find myself caught up in a routine that feels way too fast. Way too busy. Way too stressful. I've realized that stopping to smell the roses may not actually have all that much to do with literal time. I've got more time to spare than most of the people I personally know. Yet even I look at he clock and find that the day has simply melted away, leaving me with a long list of things I never accomplished.

I wonder if, perhaps, I've simply been ignoring the roses. It's not that I don't have time. It's that I've been too focused on the things that stress me out, rather than the things that have the potential to relax me. Stopping to smell the roses takes all of two seconds. Tops. I know this because I pass by several rose bushes every time I walk into my parents' house. If the breeze is blowing just right, I hardly even have to pause to be able to smell them.

The point is, I'm aware the roses are there. Whether my body pauses mid-stride or not, my subconscious takes a brief breather (no pun intended) to allow my olfactory system to absorb the sweet scent, and for that split second, my spirit is calmed.

Busy to the hilt or not, there's always "time" to stop and smell the roses. Because, in reality, it doesn't take any time at all. Yet it still provides a quiet moment in time to just be. Breathe. And remember the little things in life are the best.

Maybe the "roses" in your life are kind words from someone else. The sunshine on your face. A smile that lifts your spirits. All we have to do is be open to accepting those tiny blessings for what they are - blessings - and we have essentially stopped to smell the roses.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment!

A Significant Doodle

Sometimes it really is the little things. You know - those things that seem trivial at the time, but then later grow far beyond what was expected.

The other day, during a meeting, I found myself doodling. (Not an uncommon occurrence at all.) On this particular day, I had a pen with blue ink and a pad of narrow white scrap paper. As I listened to what was being said, I found my fingers creating a couple of strangely intriguing flowers with petals of odd shapes and sizes, and stems made of triangles and squares. The wispy grass grew in whimsical curls, and an insect (related to a butterfly) flitted about with its triangular-shaped body. A ladybug came onstage at some point, although this one had a peculiar rectangle body instead of rounded, and antennas fit for its fantasy home world.

Later, as I actually took a moment to look at my blue-ink doodles, I realized that I kind of liked the scene. There was something about it that made me smile, and my mind's eye began filling in the spaces with colors and details I hadn't yet drawn. The doodle evolved into a living scene with motion, light and sound. There was a world there with undiscovered creatures, stars not of our own solar system, and a feeling of peaceful adventure.

Then the meeting started again, and my piece of scrap paper was again just a page with some blue-ink doodles.

Until I had time to sit at my computer and play.

The purpose? Just fun (and my rectangle ladybugs are doggone cute). I'm still working on different versions of the scene, adding new details, and am already using several images as wallpaper on my computer. It still makes me smile.

And it all started from a simple little doodle. Go figure.

Little things can't always be dismissed. They can't always go ignored as something that will never amount to anything else. Whether it's a doodle, a small idea, a kind word, a tiny seed of faith, or a simple smile - anything (and anyone) has the potential to become more. To become great. To become significant.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.

An Hour Behind in the Name of Fun

This is the wall clock in my living room:

It's one of my favorites. Probably because it’s one of my own designs. But regardless, there’s something special about this clock – other than the fact that it doesn’t have numbers and I’m still able to read it (which, some days, is quite a feat).

The cool thing about this clock is that it doesn’t run on daylight savings time. Well, actually, it probably would, but I never set it ahead in the spring. So basically, yes, it remains an hour behind for a good portion of the year. You might think I did this for some complex experiment. But I gotta admit…it was just pure laziness. I’m short. So taking things off my wall and hanging them back up again doesn’t happen very often. Granted, I have a step stool, but that makes the whole process even more complicated. And I can do the math when I look at the clock. So…I left it. Besides, this time of year, the time is right!

Apart from laziness though…I have another confession. My mom sits in my apartment almost every weekday before work, since we carpool from my place. And she sees the clock. And she’s mentioned it multiple times – the fact that it isn’t set right during the summer. So, of course, I do the daughterly thing and…leave it as is. Just because. I’m not saying I enjoy annoying my mother. I just find a moderate amount of amusement in it.

I sort of do that with other things, too, though. Like the runner on the floor of my office at work. I know it moves with use and gets bunched up on the sides because it’s moved too close to the filing cabinet. But I just want to see how long it takes for my office buddy to move it because she can’t stand its crookedness any longer. Sometimes I rearrange something on a shelf just because I know someone else likes it another way and will continually move it back without knowing I’m the one that’s been moving it…on purpose. I guess I’m just ornery that way.

I’m not saying I’m a prankster. Oh, I enjoy an innocent prank now and then, but I usually stick to the more subtle methods of getting under someone’s skin. (Although I do keep a fake spider around for special occasions.) I need some kind of outlet for my creativity, right?

In the end, I only pick on people I like, though, so if I should ever purposely annoy you, just remember it’s a good thing. Besides, I think God gave us our senses of humor for a reason. If not used, it will surely go to waste...and humor is a terrible thing to waste.


Feel free to leave a comment! Have you ever done something like this?

Enjoying the Sweat

I recently heard a phrase that went something like this: “Nobody enjoys exercising anyway.” I don’t remember the exact conversation, but it was emphasized that there really was no enjoyment in exercising. In the results, perhaps, but certainly not the activity.

I’m not sure, but I have a feeling that maybe I found another area in which I’m an oddball. I have to admit…I like exercising. I like sweating. I like feeling my muscles burn as they strain to keep up with my determination. Of course, I enjoy the results of exercise the most, but I do actually enjoy the activities that make me sweat and get my blood pumping.

There’s a strange sort of satisfaction in trying my hardest at a physical activity. Granted, half the time I bite off more than I can chew when it comes to straining my joints or my back, but I still do what I can.

The other day, I was lying face-down on the mat during my kickboxing class. I’d just completed one of several exercises (which means six rounds of as many reps as I could do) and there was a part of me that wasn’t so sure I’d be able to complete the rest of class, let alone walk away when it was over. Or even survive at all. But as I pushed myself up and saw a puddle of sweat where my forehead had been, there was a bigger part of me that found satisfaction.

I finished class with higher numbers than expected (and I did manage to not only walk of the mat, but drive to work without collapsing behind the wheel). I was exhausted, but…it felt good. It wasn’t just the aftereffects though. It was the fact that I’d survived. I’d pushed my limits, sweat til my shirt was soaked, and at one point thought my muscles would probably burst at the seams. But the fact that I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do – that’s what made it enjoyable.

Exercising is tough. No doubt. And hard stuff usually isn’t fun. I won’t lie – there are mornings I don’t want to even roll out of bed, let alone go to a kickboxing class. But nine times out of ten, I’m glad I went because I really do enjoy it.

So for those of you who hate the act of exercising and only do it for the results – I’m sorry. I wish you could enjoy it like I do. Call me weird. I like to sweat. (And shower. Don’t worry – I don’t forget that little task either.)

Sometimes the hard stuff can be enjoyed more than we think. Like life. I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, but if I do, I’ll be sure to share that here, too.

I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.

Virtual Stop Signs

When I learned how to drive, it didn't take me long to figure out when approaching an intersection, when I was to apply the brakes. Too soon and I'd stop way ahead of the stop sign. Too late, and I'd send the copilot into the dashboard while screeching to a halt just inches off my target. After a while though, the correct timing became second nature. It was easy knowing exactly when to slow down and/or stop, or when to keep on the gas pedal.

Boy do I wish it was that easy in the rest of my life.

I've had various physical difficulties since I was in high school - mainly with my joints, especially my hips. Not sure why - it's jut the way I'm built. I've got over-extended joints and I'm prone to inflammation. I had the start of arthritis and slight degeneration in my vertebrae before I was twenty. I've incurred injuries through horseback riding accidents, martial arts and over-lifting. Needless to say, some pain has always been involved. It's nothing intolerable, and I try not to complain because I know of others who suffer far worse conditions than I do, but it is a constant annoyance.

Worse than the pain though, is figuring out when too much is too much. I'm a Second Degree Black Belt in Taekwondo. I'm an Orange Belt in Krav Maga. I'm a Blue Belt in Warrior X-Fit Kickboxing. I like taking walks. My full-time job often requires heavy lifting and being on my feet for many hours. I like the tough part of gardening - digging and pulling weeds. The list goes on. All those things are physical things I don't want to give up. I don't want to give up my martial arts, I can't quit my job, and any outdoor activity is too enjoyable for me to just ignore it. But where's the line?

I have yet to figure it out. As I type this, today's Kickboxing class is just starting. And I'm not there. I had another minor bout with my lower back and my hip. I could have gone to class. I could have done some of the activities. I could have done all of them, probably. But without being able to see what kind of shape I'd be in afterward...I decided I better sit this one out. Which I hate! I'm too stubborn and competitive to just think nothing of it. It irritates me to no end. I am so bull-headed, that to think my body can't be as tough as my mind is the ultimate frustration. I inwardly argue with myself - one side says I'm a wimp, while the other side says I'm just being smart.

Somewhere between doing nothing and doing too much is a stop sign. Unfortunately, the exact distance eludes me. Sometimes the stop sign moves, depending on the day and my condition. Sometimes I simply can't see it at all. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend there's no sign. Or I panic and stop a whole lot sooner than necessary.

I'd like to think that I'm closer to figuring out where the line is than I was a year or five years ago. But it's still a tough call. Every time.

I drive 45 minutes to work and 45 minutes back five days a week. I've learned well where to slow down, stop, or speed up. I hope eventually I'll get to the same point with my body - that I'll be able to decide, with confidence, whether to slow down or power through each activity/situation. Until I figure it out though, I may need to focus on the positive aspects of either decision, no matter the outcome.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts or personal experiences.

I'm a Smorgasbord

So after hitting the snooze on my alarm, followed by my critter children trying to get me up, I finally dragged myself out of bed only to realize that I not only had very little time to get ready for work, but I also had no idea what I was going to eat for breakfast, let alone what I was going to take to work for lunch (sigh). It's not like there wasn't anything in my refrigerator, freezer or pantry. Granted, none are overflowing, but I do have food. I just couldn't decide what I wanted.

As I stood at my refrigerator, my older critter child gladly tried to help me decide what to pick...

...but she wasn't much help. I finally decided I had enough small portions of perishable food that I should just throw it all together and deal with the outcome. Besides, I was running out of time. I wound up with some Greek yogurt, a bag of chips, some imitation crab, an apple, and a few grapes. I did decide not to mix anything, for which I feel aptly intelligent. (And my taste buds won't have reason to kill me.) In the end, it was an odd lunch, but it wasn't bad, and it filled my nutritional needs. 

Sometimes I wonder if anyone looks at me and sees an odd smorgasbord. (Actually, I look at me in the mirror and see an odd smorgasbord.) I'm really not sure why I've got some of the interests or talents that I do, and some of them seem kind of unrelated, not to mention strange. But I figure God knew what He was doing when He created me, so no matter how odd I am, He must like it that way for some reason. (I guess that makes me a walking smorgasbord.) After all, He's a God who loves variety.

So have a good weekend, and don't forget to enjoy the variety of life. Just don't mix your Greek yogurt and imitation crab.

Smashed Fingers, Paper Jams and Wet Pants

My day didn't start out well. Actually, I was fine until I was attacked by a door. Being a ninja, you'd think I would have seen it coming, but in my defense, it was dark. There didn't seem to be a need to flip on the light when I was only going to be in there a few seconds. But that was before I was viciously attacked. Apparently the door didn't want to be closed. Oh, but I got it closed, alright. I may have sacrificed my finger, but that door is closed!

Not long after that, this was my view:

This is an angle of the production-line copy machine where I work...from the floor...where I got to spend a lot of time while removing paper jams from all sorts of nooks and crannies. (We don't call it Beelzebub for nothing.) Torn papers, toner all over my hands, and phantom pages. In between that was a bout of forgetfulness, trying to beat the clock and basically feeling like a chicken with its head cut off - although less painful, I'm sure.

I wish that eraser really would fix all the problems. Erase the bad. Wipe the slate clean. Start over. Get those little pink shavings all over the floor. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I try, I don't think jamming the eraser into the copy machine will actually fix anything. Bummer.

Amidst it all though, I found myself laughing along with my office buddy. It was either that or be depressed, and being depressed is never fun. Of course, it helped when humor lent itself without effort. Like a door on the copy machine opening itself whenever it pleased - really. Or being so befuddled that speech became a real gibberish hazard - albeit hilarious.

Here's the best part of the day though...
I'm very blessed to work in a place where I'm allowed to use the laundry appliances, since I have none of my own. Today was one of those days when I brought a load of dirty laundry to wash. But I don't like putting my workout pants through the dryer, so I usually separate them and put them in my office to air-dry. Sometimes I drape them over the back of my chair. I didn't know my office buddy was going to need my computer this morning.

Imagine me standing in my office doorway as she looked up from my desk (where she'd been sitting for several minutes already...on my clean pants...) with an expression of shock on her face. "Your pants are wet!" Thankfully, I realized she meant the pants I'd taken from the wash, not the pants I was actually wearing. I probably blinked. There may have been a moment of shocked silence. All I'm really sure about is when she realized the implications of her words, our laughter was probably heard all the way at the other end of the building.

After everything the morning threw my way, I'm glad I can still smile, still laugh, and still praise the Lord for another day to be alive...wet pants and all.

Ahh...Tuesdays. Sometimes they beat Mondays. This one did a good job. I think tomorrow I'll bring a flashlight for the naughty door, a sledgehammer to threaten the copy machine, and a caution sign for my laundry room/office.

You've got one, I've got one, we've all got one.

On any given day, you might find me wearing a t-shirt with one of my own designs on it that says, "Yes, I AM working on another book." The whole purpose was to simply give a humorous spin on the fact that people are constantly asking me if I'm still writing or still working on a book. I'm a writer. It's what I do. So to be quite honest, it's a funny question to me.

The truth of the matter is I've always got more than one project going - writing or otherwise. I've got craft projects, graphic designs in the making, my website upkeep, these blog posts, and a constant plethora of ideas for book plots... all of them running through my mind all the time. ALL the time. I blame my sometimes-forgetfulness on the fact that my brain is just too busy to remember the smaller, less important things. Like lunch. Or my wallet. Or my chiropractor appointments. I've got sticky notes all over the place, and somehow I even miss those. Oooh, pretty yellow! I wonder how long that note will stay stuck to my computer. I haven't the foggiest what it means, but it sure makes me look productive!

The other day, while sorting through an old crate of papers and who knows what else, I found these:

Each one is a manuscript of a book I have yet to finish. Some are a part of a series I wrote years ago. Some are stand-alone novels. I'd even forgotten about one of them! Yet when looking through the pages, I still remembered the characters, the plots, and where I'd wanted the storylines to head. I never completed them for whatever reason (I might someday) but those plots are still running through my brain. No wonder I'm running out of room!

Last week, I had to go over Taekwondo material because I was going to help fill in for another instructor one evening. I'd been through some of those moves about two years ago...but after a few tries, my body remembered what it was supposed to do. And I learned more on top of that!

I had the radio turned up nice and loud this morning on the way in to work, and realized just how many lyrics, melodies and voices I recognized. I could sing along with songs, or even recognize who the artist was. (While still paying attention to driving safely, mind you.)

More often than not, my mind is going a bazillion miles per hour in just as many directions. Not everybody's brain works that way, and I'm not trying to boast about all the things I do, but no matter what kind of mind you have and what your tendencies or traits are...God has given us all incredible brains! We can think about and do and perform and remember countless images, smells, feelings, sounds, stories, songs, faces, names, relationships, events...the list goes on and on and on. And it never stops, til the day we die.

Science has proven most of us only use a small percentage of our brains' capabilities. And to tell you the truth, I'm kind of glad. I can't imagine having an even more active brain than I already do.

Happy Friday, and don't forget to feed your brain something healthy this weekend.

400 and Counting...

It seems everybody collects something. I'm not sure why we, as humans, are fascinated with certain things enough that we will fill cabinets, shoe boxes, shelves and drawers with items only a few others might actually appreciate. Even when the things collected might be of monetary value, how often are they never sold, simply to keep the collection intact and growing? That in itself is almost more fascinating than the actual items. 

While I have a variety of hobbies, when it comes to collecting, there’s really only one thing that I’ve gone all-out with, and that’s key chains. I love them. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been intrigued with all the different kinds of mini trinkets hanging from key rings. Something about them just absorbs my interest. When I go on vacation, my first souvenir is almost always a key chain. Some of my favorite gifts? Key chains. In my purse, on my desk, in a box and in my car? Yeah. Key chains. So since I'm this obsessed, I thought I'd share part of my collection with you.

As far as I know, this was my very first key chain.

Not only is it special because it was my first, but it has a lot of sentimental value. I was very young – probably just five or six years old. I can remember sitting on my grandpa’s knee as we played this game, trying to get those little balls into the colored dips. All in blue, or one each in blue, red and yellow. I remember agreeing with him that blue was the hardest (though I don’t know how that’s possible). I’m sure he was better at the game than I was, but it was so much fun. My grandpa died when I was seven, so that’s probably one of the last memories I have of him, and it’s still precious to me.

Since then, my collection has grown to over 400. I have key chains from twenty-five different countries (thanks to missionary friends).

…and from thirty-one different states in the US (even if I haven’t been to all of them myself).

I have key chains that can come in handy, such as mini screwdrivers, scissors and more.

There are some that are in my “favorites” category, even if I’m the only one who knows where they came from.

I’ve got fun key chains that provide entertainment.

Some are cute novelty key chains. (Yes, Mr. Potato Head actually comes apart, and yes, the Etch A Sketch, Magnadoodle and yo-yo work, too.)

Still others are quite old – some of which I’m not sure just how old they are or even where they originally came from, but they’re still cool to me.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop adding to my collection…I doubt it. The only problem I have is finding a way to display everything. At the moment, most of my key chains reside in a box…a very full box...which will more than likely soon become two boxes. Of course, on certain days, it’s rather fun to dump it all out on the floor and rediscover old treasures. And besides...if they were all hanging up, I'd have to dust them.

Are you obsessed with certain objects or themes? What do YOU collect?

Litter Boxes, Paper Cuts and Chicken Salad

I set my alarm for an earlier-than-normal time this morning. Fifteen minutes early was all. Just enough extra time to prep my lunch and not make me late for work. Good thing I did get up early.

I rolled my aching body out of bed, forcing my mind from a terrible fog. Oh yes. Lunch. That's why I was rising early. I needed to prep my chicken salad so I'd actually have something IN my wholewheat, low-carb tortilla. As I entered the bathroom though, I discovered my cat had "missed" her litter box. It was at least a ten-minute cleanup process, and I still hadn't even gotten out of my pajamas yet. Fantastic.

As a result, I ended up running late. Thankfully I did manage to prepare my lunch before walking out the door though. After getting to work, my day became a series of paper cuts, forgotten tasks, internet trouble, bruises, finicky equipment and news that one of my manuscripts did not place in a particular contest. Whoever said Mondays were bad had not yet been introduced to Tuesdays.

Thankfully I have an office buddy who surprised me with breakfast, I was able to take a break for my martial arts class, and my chicken salad wrap? Yeah, that turned out to be pretty tasty.

I guess the only moral of my story is if you decide to rise fifteen minutes early in the morning...you might want to make that twenty-five minutes, just in case. Especially if you have an ornery cat like mine.

A Furry Good Neighbor

I may not have imaginary friends, but I do tend to accept local wild animals as my good neighbors. One such neighbor is a brown squirrel. If I was quicker with a camera, I'd have a picture of him, but alas, you'll just have to use your imagination. Most would say he's just an average squirrel, but I tend to think he's on the cuter side of the scale. He's scared me half to death on multiple occasions by clinging to the large maple tree that's right beside my sidewalk. Only when I'm about three feet away do I realize something at my eye level is staring at me. I haven't figured out if he's extraordinarily brave or extraordinarily ornery.

A couple weeks ago one of my cats became quite excited at the window. I went to take a look, and saw Mr. Squirrel, nut in mouth, searching for a new hiding spot for his treasure. Instead of looking out in the yard, he had spotted my flower pots. One by one, he checked them out, testing the softness of the dirt. He finally came up on the porch and found one particular pot that he liked. He very carefully parted the flowers, dug a hole, buried the nut, then patted everything back in place (including the flowers) to make sure no one would be the wiser.

It was one of the cutest, funniest things I'd ever seen. I didn't have the heart to scare him away from my flowers, and still haven't dug up the nut. I've noticed a few other holes in the dirt in some of the other pots, but I've just let Mr. Squirrel be.

More recently, a dead squirrel appeared in the street. I didn't even realize it was there until a gentleman in a pickup came by and cleaned it up. I felt terrible. I didn't know if it was Mr. Squirrel or not, but I'd sort of grown attached to the furry little guy, and to think he'd been hit by a car was rather sad. I knew there were plenty of other squirrels around town but they just weren't the same.

I watched out my window for several days, hoping I'd see Mr. Squirrel and prove it was some other poor creature that had been run over. We had several rainstorms, which didn't help much, as no animals came around at all. I began to believe that it really was Mr. Squirrel that I'd seen taken away.

Until yesterday.

Once again, my cat alerted me. I know, I know, you'd probably tell me that I could never tell the difference from one squirrel to the next, but let me believe and be happy, okay? THIS squirrel dared to drink out of a flooded flower pot and even came up on the porch to sniff around. He was so confident about it being his territory, that I was convinced it was, indeed, my Mr. Squirrel.

I don't know which one of his family members met their fate on my street, but I can't tell you how glad I was to see Mr. Squirrel alive and well, still claiming my flower pots as his own. And...I think I'll just let him believe they're his. After all, I'm a good neighbor, too.

Doughnut, anyone?

Happy National Doughnut Day! I didn't even realize that's what day it was until my mother mentioned it this morning...as we ate our breakfast pizza. Oops.

Another thing I didn't realize is that National Doughnut Day takes place on the first Friday of every June. (I think it's rather appropriate that it's on a Friday, don't you?) And another thing I didn't realize is that this doughnut-eating tradition dates all the way back to 1938 during WWI. (Take a look: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Doughnut_Day) Fascinating!

What's even more fascinating is that International Jelly-Filled Doughnut Day is on June 8th, National Cream-Filled Doughnut Day is on September 14th, and Buy A Doughnut Day is on October 30th! I had no idea there were so many days to honor the soft, warm, sweet goodness of doughnuts!

So go have one. Even if it's after the first Friday in June. Because hey, they still taste good on ANY day.

Picture by Tracey Alvarez

A New Approach

It's the beginning of a new year. Well...it's not January 1st, but a new year can start on any day, as it leads into the next 365 days.

This day marks the beginning of a new year for me - a blogging year. After a lot of thought, research, reading and consideration, I have decided to revamp not just the way my blog looks, but how I post. I want to veer from all posts about all writing. Yes, I'm a writer, but I'm also a lot of other things, too. I'm a Christian, I'm a martial artist (or a "mardle arsist" depending on whether or not you get tongue-tied...inside joke, sorry), I'm a hobbyist/artist, I love to eat, I love rainstorms, I love watching clouds, I have 2 cats that are the loves of my life...the list goes on. So I've decided to quit boring you with posts that only talk about writing. I'm sure I'll throw one in here every once in a while, but I'd much rather just have some fun and let you get to know me a little better.

Bear with me as I continue to tweak my blog's layout and slide into a new groove - I'm still not 100% satisfied, but it's getting there.  The first big change was my blog's actual address, changed from writerburkum.blogspot.com to rachelburkum.blogspot.com. Using my name will be more effective and will be easier to remember for anyone who wants to follow my posts. I've got some new ideas lined up and am excited to share and also gain precious writing hours to hone my skills as I continue to work on my books.

Happy New Year!

Topsy-Turvy Season

It's been a while since I've blogged. Less than a week after my last entry, my grandfather unexpectedly passed away. That was August 25th. Since then, life has taken many turns and had many ups and downs. I've had very little time to dive into my writing, and even less time to spend simply "being." Since my grandfather's passing, my mother and I successfully moved my grandmother into a care center, cleaned out their house completely and sold it (all that in less than two month's time). I thought settling back into a routine would be easy. I was wrong. There is always more.

This holiday season has not been an easy one, due to a plethora of reasons. But my one steadfast hope is that God is in all of the stress, craziness and strife, and He knows how to handle it much better than I do.

During December, I took a deep breath and have made an effort to write. I've been able to write a few short pieces and at least collect a few thoughts in one way or another. I put together a blog for my writer's guild and right now I'm in the process of updating my own webstore where my books and some other new items are going to be sold. Once that's updated I will post again with a link in case anyone is interested.

In the meantime, I hope you and yours are having a blessed holiday season.

Goals

So far this year, I've thought about goals more than any time else. Maybe it's because we often talk about goals at my Taekwondo classes and it's sometimes the theme of the month. Or maybe it's because my goals have shifted or changed directions lately. Still, goals have always been a difficult thing for me. For without a goal, I cannot fail. Yet without a goal, I lose forward momentum.

I think that's one of the things that has held me back in my writing as of late. Oh, I've still been writing and haven't come anywhere near to ceasing - but it has been much slower. My desire has been there but motivation has not. Ideas have been there, but the will has not. Perhaps it is not a lack of inspiration as I have blamed, but rather a lack of goals.

Recently, I sent out the first query letter in a very long time. It felt good. That one small act has motivated me to finish not only the work about which I queried, but other works too. The goal of having another book published has given me a fresh outlook, new ideas and enthusiasm.

Without goals, forward momentum ceases.

For me, goals can sometimes be intimidating. Sometimes it's easier not to have goals so that I'll never face the possibility of failure. But at the same time, if I never try, I'll never know how far I could have gone. The trick is knowing which goals are attainable and which goals should wait.

My goals for the near future are to finish three of my large writing projects. That is attainable. My next goal? To see them in print. Whether it's by a traditional publisher or self-publishing, that remains to be seen. But no matter, I am confident that I will see them in print if I maintain these two simple goals. After that? Who knows? But without these goals in mind, I'd never move forward.

The Art of Conversation: An Oxymoron

What ever happened to the art of conversation? While some people seem to have carried this skill set through the generations, others have demonstrated that somewhere along the way, society has forgotten how to communicate more than short sentences and acronyms at a time.

Some people might blame the loss of true conversation on technology. Some people might blame it on busy schedules. Still others might blame it on lack of necessity. Me? I think laziness has a lot to do with it.

Now, how that laziness has evolved could be one or many things, and for each person the answer might be different. Personally, I think technology has played a big part. Take texting, for example. If two people text all day, when they actually see each other at the end of that day, what's left to talk about? It would almost be easier to sit across the table from each other and text a few more silly comments than actually participate in a verbal conversation. This isn't new either. I've seen commercials on television that advertise good meals to try and coax people to converse as they eat instead of texting each other. Still other commercials have demonstrated verbal chatspeak, which not only is confusing, but inadequate when it comes to true conversation.

"Hi." "How are you?" "Good. How are you?" "Fine." "What's up?" "Nothing." And the conversation is over. Now wait a minute. If that takes place between two strangers, fine. But if two people are friends, there's an awful lot lacking there. Where's the meat? Where's the information on how they're really doing? What's going on in their life? How can you relate to each other? What common experiences can you draw from?

It used to be that if we wanted to keep up a relationship with someone, we were forced to gather our thoughts before dialing a phone, or, imagine this - write an actual letter! Now that takes thought! Back before we had all these handy dandy devices to assist in quick messages, we were much more apt to give someone details about what was happening in our lives - otherwise it wasn't worth the time to sit down and write. We wanted to make it worth our while - and worth their while to read.

Unfortunately, the ability and ease of communication in general has caused a conversational breakdown. Seems to be an oxymoron. We post one-liners on Facebook, text a few words at a time, and emails may or may not consist of much more than a brief answer to a question. But are we really sharing with each other? What happened to lengthy chats about family, weather or jobs? Now I'm not saying everyone has fallen prey to the shallowness of technologically advanced messages. There are those who take full advantage of technology in order to communicate better, not just more quickly. But when I look at the broad picture, I see a generation that is quickly destroying itself by forgetting how to have a good old fashioned conversation.

The solution? Maybe we need to learn to slow down a little bit. Maybe we need to be a little less protective of what's on our minds. Maybe we need to relearn how to actually use our voice to converse with someone.

Will society fall to pieces because we're all texting and sending instant messages now? I doubt it. But I do think we're losing a precious art that is much more fulfilling than brief messages full of acronyms. Try having a real conversation - maybe over a cup of coffee. Can't hurt, and you might actually enjoy it.

Yesterday

Riding on the wind into a space where time doesn’t exist. Yesterday. Its paths, its choices, its rounds of applause – all gathered together in a neat bundle to be lost to the very hands of time which birthed it. A void, it seems…perhaps a black hole. Where memories are born because it is a time which no longer exists. For when looking upon it, we are indeed in a time beyond, never to grasp those feelings again. Never to behold those same majestic triumphs. Never to gaze upon our hearts in quite the same manner again. For it was yesterday.

As predictably as the sun rises and sets, so too do the passing hours evolve into a day forgotten – a day which can never be gained, never be earned, and never be touched. A day that we might wish to frame to be remembered for eternity. Or a day that we might wish never to look upon again, cursing the very memory.

Yesterday. We have no choice in the matter. For today is where we stand, no matter how hard we try to bend the hands of time. No matter how much we may want to relive, or perhaps take back – it is lost. And if we were capable of returning to that precious point in time, would we indeed choose a different path? Or have the consequences born of that moment turned our minds and forced us to grow, making us realize that no matter the desperation…yesterday must remain untouched?

Today is the eternity we longed for yesterday. Tomorrow is the forever we long for today. And this very hour must be lived with the knowledge that it can never be breathed again. For it too will be lost. It too will be but yesterday, riding on the wind into a space where time doesn’t exist.

Not Just When I'm in Trouble

Cody (our German Shepherd) has a fear of thunderstorms. A bit funny for a retired K-9, but nevertheless, if a storm is coming our way and he hears the thunder, he's whining at the door. He's an outside dog, though, so we simply have to tell him to go in his doghouse.

The other day, a storm was rolling in. It hadn't reached us yet, but the wind was picking up, and the thunder began to rumble. I was working in my flower garden (where the dogs are not allowed), and all of a sudden, Cody was right there. He wouldn't leave me! Normally, he sticks closely to the head of the house, and I'm just his playmate. But since Daddy was gone, all of a sudden, I was the one Cody wanted.

I shooed him out of the garden more than once, but came right back, sticking to me like clue as the thunder rolled. Chores came next and I had to get the horses in, so I took to the paddock then the barn. Lo and behold, there was Cody right there again, staying close and even trying to play with me a couple times.

The storm came, he had to stay outside, and afterward, he was no worse for wear. But it got me thinking about us and God. I like to run to God when there are storms in my life. He's my shelter and He's got it all under control. But where am I after the storm?

It seems we often like to live our lives the way we want - with us in control. Then all of a sudden when something goes wrong, we run to God. But how must He feel the rest of the time? Is He only the shelter when we're in trouble?

My experience with Cody was humorous, no doubt. But in the end, I think I was taught a good lesson as well. I want to stick close to God all the time, not just when I'm in trouble. It's a two-way street, and I want to be His friend.