have fun

Happy Labor Day weekend! I hope you get to do something fun, like run or

ride your bicycle, or just relax and let your hair down! Whatever you do, breathe, see and enjoy.

something everyday

Sometimes I forget 

and have to remind myself that

everyday, there is

something to appreciate.

Coming clean: what we talk about when we talk about soap

I have a friend who's magic potion is lipstick. If she needs to reward herself for getting her yearly mammogram, or has had a bad night's sleep, or is hot or cold or happy or sad or bored or mad, or has a hangnail or stubbed toe, she heads to Ulta, her cosmetic store of choice, to purchase a new lipstick. She single-handedly keeps the place in business. I love hearing the names of her latest conquests and seeing each luscious shade as she makes an entrance, leading with the lips. One day, I'll ask to see her collection. When I breach the lipstick room, I'll bring Agnes, my camera, along so I can show you.

Me? Of course I have a magic potion. Doesn't everyone? Mine's not lipstick, though. My lips are the thin Irish kind, so Bodacious Bombshell or Ravishing Raspberry would be wasted on me. I stick to coral, enjoying an elixir more in keeping with my strengths.

I don't have many claims to fame, but I like to think I'm pretty darn good at personal hygiene. On workout days, I usually take two showers. During my glory days as a crossing guard, I usually took three showers. Fine by me. It allowed me to buy more soap. What could be more exciting than a new delightful-smelling bar of soap: my drug of choice? The bonus is that you get to carry the scent with you all day on your skin.

My interest in soap makes gift buying easy for Quiet Guy, my husband and sidekick. He stays at great hotels on business trips, so all he has to do is squirrel away a few adorable little hotel soaps and I am a happy camper. It's the simple things. It really is, which brings me to today's exciting news.

I just tried out a new grocery store, Ruibal's Rosemeade Market & Greenhouse. It's a farmer's market/grocery/plant nursery combined. They've got great produce and (drum roll, please...) a soap I, heretofore, had never encountered. It was even on sale, a sign, if ever there was one, to seal the deal.

Yay! Can't wait to try my precious. Geranium. Who knew? It smells amazing. Whatever your magic potion may be, treat yourself today. As long as it's not illegal, that is. You deserve it. It's Friday! Enjoy!

one email away from stardom

So, I promised to tell the story of the too-big-for-his-britches dude who smashed my hopes of stardom. Well, that might be a slight exaggeration. But Mr. Britches was mean to me, kind of like those three bully girls in high school. Now I'll have four names to mention when accepting my Pulitzer. 

It's a short story, really. Sadly short. When I got my Father's Day Column published in June, this sorta famous local celebrity dude, meaning not as famous as, say Brad Pitt, but a name even I, who is often clueless about such things, recognized, emailed me with glowing and also specificly helpful comments on the article. I was thrilled to have an actual something-like-a-celebrity contact me. We went back and forth with a few emails, becoming almost-best friends. This dude also sometimes writes for the DMN.

So then, my daughter goes, you should invite him to meet you for coffee so you can see if he has other tips/advice to offer since you are just starting out and he knows a lot about the local writing scene. I cringed. "Are you kidding me? I would never be brave enough to do that."  

Then I worked up my courage. It took two months. I emailed him again to ask him to coffee, also mentioning a couple of his recent columns I liked, so as to schmooze a bit. I would have been fine with either a yes or no, the main thing, in my mind, was that I had taken a big scary bravery step just in asking.

The dude did not say yes. The dude did not say no. The dude maintained complete radio silence. Zilch. Nada. Zippo lighter. I had to re-read my email to make sure it was not creepy, as I tend to blame myself for the rudeness of others. But my email was fine. Low key, non threatening, casual-like. Oh well. 

For the record, I responded to each and every one of the emails I got on my columns. Granted, there were comfortably less than an overwhelming number, so it was easy to answer all of them, even without engaging a personal assistant. It's the principle of the thing. Am I right?

What surprised me about my minor-celebrity snubbing, though, was that I am totally fine with it. Really and truly. To be honest, I would have been a little nervous to meet him anyhow. Whew, dodged a bullet. I'm just glad that I found the courage to ask, and I'd do it again, gosh darn it. And next time, if the celeb or faux-celeb actually responds, and meets me for that free cup of coffee, I'll be ready. And we'll have fun.

simple gifts

Lookie here at what God made. I did not bump up the saturation on this shot; these roses, this sky presented themselves just so. Shocking beauty. It waits for us everywhere if we open our eyes and see, open our lives to receive.

It's easy to get caught up in the mundane: vacuuming, weeding, scrubbing toilets, deleting junk emails, organizing silverware drawers. That was my morning. I know, I know, you're jealous of my crazy-fun life. Tomorrow I will wash windows, cook up a mess of ribs, and visit the vein doctor. What can I say? I am a lucky girl. 

A few minutes ago, I let my dog out and followed her into the yard. I did not really want to go out into the heat, but Jamie Woo is a quirky old dog and does not like to go (as in do her business) without an audience. So I stumbled out, ready to cheer, "Good Girl," as is my custom, as soon as she, well... performs, only to stumble upon a treasure, and not the kind Jamie Woo bestows, resting in the vibrant patch of grass where I'd knelt an hour earlier, weeding. I'd left an empty spot, but now this gift. A perfectly smooth, perfectly bright and jaunty blue jay's feather lightly rested in the kelly green blades of St Augustine. 

Of course, I knew it was a sign. God must have floated it down just to say hi and to hug me. He knows I appreciate feathers. What can you find today? Keep watch. Look high, look low. See what simple gifts your eyes can see.

hope like a bee

Something about this picture of stacked plums gives me a warm feeling, like a bee of hope buzzing inside my sternum. I am susceptible to joy creeping directly into me through the eyes, without having to pass through the censor of mind, when I look at certain pictures. I don't understand how that works, but I'm constantly searching for hope out of ordinary scraps of life from behind my lens. 

When I write the stories of my life, the craziness that was my childhood, I seem to do the same thing. I think and ponder, shifting my kaleidoscope of memory to find something good: a happy ending or worthwhile tribute because I am not a person who can easily leave sad endings without digging for some hidden treasure underneath.

I know the shot is overexposed, but I like it that way. I'd like to have a life overexposed with sunshine and appreciation. It's easy to be too serious because I think too much, with a soupcon of anxiety thrown in just to keep things interesting, so I have to work on my gratitude list and meditate every day. That is my goal, anyhow. Sometimes I forget and have to begin again. And again. And again. And just keep practicing.

good news

Today, I'm going to share with you five good things. When I discover something great, I tell you. I'm here to serve. In this life, we have our people. Our people are what matters. You are my people, so here you go.

1. On watermelon. How many years does it take to figure out how to choose the sweetest possible watermelon? If you're me, the answer is fifty-two. Dooogh! I have been a poor chooser all these years and have finally learned the secret. All this time, I've been studiously (and inadvertently) avoiding the good melons in my attempts for perfection. Isn't that always the way? We aim for pristine when wabi-sabi is the way to go. If you don't know Wabi-sabi, Wikipedia it. Anyhow, I finally decided to ask the produce dude how to get a good melon, having been burned a few times already this year.

In the past, I'd always picked the roundest, greenest melon in the bunch, avoiding imperfection. Produce guy thumps a bunch of gnarly looking melons, and hands me the ugliest one with a big yellow blemish the size of Manhattan. "This is a god one," he says' handing it to me.

"Aaaah, huh?," I say. "What about the yellow splotch?

"Yep. That's what you want to look for. If your melon doesn't have the yellow, it was picked too soon. The green ones are the ones to avoid. If it has a nice yellow patch and makes a hollow ting when you thump it, it will be red, crisp and sweet inside. Trust me. This one is good."

Oh my Lordie. What a revelation. All these years, I've been avoiding the yellow splotch and neglecting to thump. Produce dude was sooooo right. This melon is the best. The coolest part of this experience is another lesson I've been learning lately. This lesson is compliments of my buddy Lauren Smart. Her secret? Just Ask. If you don't know something, ask for help.

Sometimes this will pan out, sometimes it won't. Either way, you'll be no worse for the wear. Since Lauren enlightened me on her asking philosophy, I've been experimenting with it in many realms with interesting results. The melon insight was an example of a positive outcome. I've only had one negative outcome. Perhaps I'll tell you about that soon. All I'm sayin' is that some people are too big for their britches and think they're too cool to help a lowly beginner like me. Whatev.

2. Good series. Quiet Guy and I just finished watching the series Life (2 seasons in all)on Netflix. It is awesome: intriguing characters, quirky bits, mysteries and good fashion. What else could you ask for in a series? Pop yourself some popcorn and hunker down to watch this series.

3. Searching for Sugar Man, the documentary. If you haven't seen this yet, you are wasting time. Do it. So interesting, so thought provoking. It's about a musical artist from the seventies called Rodriguez who is about as gifted as they come. I am slightly obsessed with his music now, as we bought his CD's and I listen to them over and over again, but still cannot get enough.

4. The book The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls by Anton DiSclafani. Do I condone everything that happens in this novel? Aaahhh, that would be a no. But who cares when the writing is this beautiful. Seriously lyrical, seriously genius. This gal can turn a phrase.

5. The book In The Woods by Tana French. Good mystery, first novel. Warning: her second effort, The Likeness, will disappoint you. It is too preposterous for words.  However, I can forgive that, and am now onto her third: Faithful Place. I have high hopes for this one. I am a believer. Gotta admire Ms. French. Not only is she Irish, but she can string together a story with good characters.