The Ratio of Failures

Actions Matter, Dammit

2019-09-06T02:02:00.000-05:00

Facebook, the social media giant, ~~giant time suck~~, sometimes inspires me when I see some heartfelt posts.

Yeah, I know, I'm getting soft. What of it?

Yesterday's post that prompted me to share and reflect on what I can do to be a good person ~~like I'm going to get a trophy for being a decent human being~~. Let's commence the sappy, shall we?

When I was last employed, I made it my business to make at least one person's job easier each day. I focused on what I could do to add value, and to lessen others' stress when completing my job tasks.

This change in attitude changed ME. I looked forward to the work day, and looked for ways to satisfy the needs of my client. It made work fun. I became more proactive, and had some work done BEFORE I was asked - that always made people happy.

I felt like I had more power, even though I was only a well-paid, yet lowly, contractor.

I've tried to continue this attitude in my personal life. I get a kick in anticipating what I can do to make things better; sometimes, greeting folks with a smile is enough to help that person feel like someone cares about them. I thank people more often for what they do for ME. I am grateful for so much.

I am even positive and helpful to strangers.on.the.internet. Yeah, it's that bad. I get heart emojis, and wonder why - and re-read the lovely message I've written. Knowing that I am capable of such niceness is frightening. But here we are.

Our monthly family dinners are another example: The kids and grandkids come over, and they contribute a side dish. Their children are fed, and the adults eat too, and they didn't have to do all the cooking. We celebrate family birthdays and parents don't have to worry about cleaning their house for company to come over. The Mister and I prepare the entree (and the birthday person often gets to pick what we eat); we add other dishes as appropriate.The sisters and their spouses get to chat, and the grandkids get to play with their cousins and turn my office into toy central. I hope everyone feels a little bit spoiled.

I've had a couple Facebook friends recently tell me how I've made a positive difference to them, and that they appreciated my efforts. Who doesn't like kudos? Not this old woman.

My Facebook interactions are often less sarcastic, and lean toward supportive and helpful. Where is Kim, and what have I done with her?

Oh, there are exceptions - primarily, any post having to do with politics can make my blood pressure spike, and snotty Kim comes out to play. And one of those Facebook friends who complimented me? She will message me and ask me to join in political discussions when a commenter is dumber than a rock (aka not agreeing with us). She wants me to do good, she wants me to be bad. No wonder she's a friend! I like that!

All in all, I try to keep the positive actions more frequent than the snarky ones.

So now, I ask you: What have you done this week to make someone's day a bit smoother? Likewise, when have you been ~~a royal pain in the ass~~ less than supportive?

Note: my pain in the ass activities are primarily limited to dealing with The Mister, because it's just plain fun.

DIY Decor is Easy and Affordable with Chalk Couture: A Review

2019-09-02T16:54:00.000-05:00

In my previous post, I mentioned how I've been crocheting, which is probably the last thing anyone would think I'd ever do.

I have never been artsy craftsy. You won't find any painted ceramics or ~~decopauged~~ decoupaged whatever you ~~decopauge~~ decoupage. I had to look up how to spell it, never mind knowing what kind of items are made for it.

I can't draw a straight line with a ruler. And scissors? I can't cut straight. Good thing I don't have guns - Lord knows how far I'd be from my intended target! But I digress...

I have been moderately successful at crochet. Sure, I rip out as many stitches as I put in, but eventually, I produce a blanket. I learned individual stitches by watching YouTube videos and reading blogs. I learned, slowly, how to read a crochet pattern. I have not yet mastered the art of reading a crochet chart (which consists of symbols representing each stitch in a row). I thought that crochet would be the only craft I'd ever participate in.

But thanks to my bonus daughter, Ruth, there's one more crafty endeavor I've thought of doing.

Ruth is a Chalk Couture representative. What's Chalk Couture?

Chalk Couture is a company that sells chalk paste & chalk ink, adhesive, and reusable silk screen transfers, as well as the backgrounds for the transfers. It's a great way to create DIY decor for your home. The range of transfers, and the myriad of colors of chalk media let you customize home decor items that reflect your style and attitude.

Here are a few items Ruth made for me:

A yarn bag to carry my crochet supplies

As if there was any doubt that I'm a fab-u-lous Grandma!

Truer words were never chalked

Ruth does regular Facebook Live videos where she demonstrates how to create these items. It doesn't take long to make cute wall decor (the kind you find at Hobby Lobby or other stores). She explains how to prepare the item being chalked, how to take care of your vinyl transfers, and how to clean up after your craft session is finished.

If I'm going to delve into additional crafty activities, it must be fast and easy. Ain't nobody got time for hard to complete, messy attempts to create custom home decor items. And by 'nobody', I mean me.

You can order additional kits from your Ruth, or join a monthly subscription service that mails you everything you need to complete your own projects. Ruth is also available for decor parties for friends and family, and even offers virtual parties for family and friends who don't live in the St. Louis area.

If you're interested in learning more about Chalk Couture and how you can make cute gifts or update your rooms with great decor you've made yourself, I can hook you up with Ruth. I know people. Happy crafting!

So Much Has Happened - Yet So Much Remains the Same

2019-09-01T17:19:00.000-05:00

Yes, my lovelies, a lot has happened since I was a regular poster. For example, I've gotten OLDER. Physically, my body is decrepit. Aches and pains galore. ~~I should have purchased that extended warranty.~~ I think I shall list categories of my life and highlight some of the goings on.

Employment/Age: I'm not employed. I have taken an early retirement, and am now among the Social Security set. It's only been a couple of months, but my life changed as soon as that first Government benefit was direct deposited in my account:

I make noises when I move (snap, crackle, pop, or "Oww, oww").
I say, "What, I can't hear you!" many times a day. I can no longer eavesdrop on others' conversations~~, putting a dent in my rich fantasy life~~.
I want to yell at kids who are loitering on my lawn.
I've started driving at an average speed of 27 mph, and I never use my turn signal.
Dinner is served by 4 pm each day.
Some mornings when I look in the bathroom mirror, the face that stares back to me looks like Steve Buscemi. Not to say anything bad about the famous character actor, but I am a horrifying vision when I first awake (though I do have fewer chin hairs than Steve).

The resemblance is uncanny... shiver

Housing: This is the category that has the biggest change. THE NEST IS EMPTY! The Boy, who is now The Man, has moved into his own apartment. I still have plenty of interactions with him, but I no longer have to guard the comestibles. :)

Family: We still have eleven perfect grandchildren who only get more adorable every day. The adult children are all doing well. In another post(s) I may tell you about our monthly family dinners. Speaking of family, I can't forget THE MISTER.

The Mister: He's still working, and has improved his diet and lost weight. He also got store-bought teeth. I wonder if this is some delayed mid-life crisis, and he'll come home with a Corvette and tell me he's in love with a Denny's waitress named Tiffany.

I continue to encourage him to treat me like the princess I ~~was meant to be~~ am. It's not a perfect setup, but I ~~begrudgingly~~ give him points for effort. After trying for almost eleven years, I still have not put a dent in his big meanie behavior. I guess it's something I'll have to live with.~~, because we all know he's too old to change~~.

Four-legged Critter(s): Eddy the cat, now 15, is still with us. She moves a lot slower, sleeps more, and still sheds enough to build another cat. For the past year, I have had a hankerin' for a dog. The Mister (BM - Big Meanie, or Bowel Movement, whatever works) said that I cannot get a dog until after Eddy crosses the Rainbow Bridge.

To be clear, I am NOT plotting Eddy's demise. That would be wrong. The Mister that when we do get a dog, it must be one he likes, too. Since it's common for people to pick a dog with a temperament that matches that of its owner, don't be surprised if I tell you that we got a surly, geriatric Doberman Pinscher who thinks he's the Alpha male. Woof.

Fun/Hobbies/Recreation:

Since I am now in the enviable position of having THE HOUSE TO MYSELF all day, and ACCESS TO A CAR, I bet you're thinking I'm running amok in the Midwest, tipping outhouses, badgering retirees in the post office, or spending my Social Security on bingo and casino slot machines.

None of these things is true, though I have contemplated one or more them a time or two.

My typical day consists of enjoying social media (and wreaking havoc when appropriate), sleeping as late ~~as I want~~ unless if I have no other obligations, and rushing around at 2:30 pm with cleaning so The Mister thinks I worked hard all day on all things domestic.

I've been a slacker at writing, obvs, but I am trying ~~beginning~~ to rectify that now ~~avoid that at all costs.~~ For the past two years, I have taken up crochet ~~hoarding yarn~~, as my age requires me to. Here's a picture of the "Roseanne" blanket I finished for my most beautiful stepdaughter (she insists I refer to her like that on the blog):

Russell was my loose ends inspector

There's so much more to tell, but ~~I'm sure you're bored to tears by now, as i am~~ I've rambled enough. Come back again for more, will ya?

Kim's Got Her Mojo Back - Is Anyone Out There?

2019-08-29T23:50:00.002-05:00

It's been over a year since I last posted. Shame on me. It feels good to confess my sin.

I hope you're still here, because I think I'm coming back. ~~I hate to have to beg you to respond.~~

I got my MOJO back. But I've forgotten how to set up a blog page. ~~I have to find that EU message thing I saw earlier.~~ I hadn't written anything more than a grocery list in months. But today, in anticipation of my writing critique group, I wrote an essay.

It felt GOOD. No, it felt more than good.

For the first time in a long time, I felt ALIVE. Fingers poised on the keyboard, I let the ideas ~~word vomit~~ flow.

I immediately got into the writing groove, when I haven't been able to create a topic sentence for such a long time.

What have I been doing? I know that's the question you've all been asking.

I've been lost in suburbia. I let the cookie cutter life get me down. ~~I succumbed to a crochet addiction, but that's a post for another time.~~ But that's all over now. I'm back.

I'm feeling eager and confident. Ideas are popping my head like that Fisher-Price toddler toy ~~that is so freaking annoying~~ with it's pop, pop, pop.

I've missed ~~you all~~ ~~most of you~~ ~~some~~ all of your blogs. I can't wait to scroll through my list of favorites ~~and see who has given up~~. And your comments! How I've missed those! I hope I get some comments, I mean, didn't you all miss me?

Hello, are you there?

Can't wait to get reacquainted. I have so much news to share! ~~And some of it is good.~~

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop - May 3 2018, A Twofer

2018-05-03T00:00:00.000-05:00

I am participating in Mama Kat's Writers Workshop again. I've been gone a long time, but I am confident you all got along great during my absence.

I am doing TWO prompts today (perhaps to make up for my lapse in submissions):

List of Mother's Day Must-Haves

I am going to assume that you mean MY list of must-haves, not the list of those popular consumer items all other mothers want. The items in my list, for the most part, can't be purchased in stores.

1. A recognition of the holiday from each of the children. A Facebook message will suffice. This is a no-pressure holiday for me. In fact, other than the acknowledgement, I'd prefer to think I have no children at all on Mother's Day. That means:

No requests for any of my many talents
No whining within my earshot
No display of my substantive cooking skills

2. In short, I want to be left alone. Let me think kindly of you (my children) as I do exactly as I please for this one day. I may not get out of bed. I may sit and crochet all day, or watch Netflix, or play mindless online games (real and those of my own choosing).

3. I'd like to be able to pretend, for this 24 hour period, that I have no children (other than the perfect beings I imagine you are in my head). I want to feel utterly unnecessary for anyone's well-being or happiness, unless:

the grandkids come. Then I want to pull out all the stops and spoil them rotten, as is my wont to do. In my grandmotherly way, I will encourage the darlings to acknowledge and show appreciation for their own mother's efforts.

It's a day to reflect on this motley crew we call family, and how lucky I am to be in their midst.

Just don't ask me to do anything to prove my love and devotion. You'll just have to trust me on that.

Time

The last couple of years, time has been tricking me. The days often seem so long, and yet, the month flies by. The grandkids are growing older and growing up too quickly for me. We are running out of babies, and that is wholly unacceptable. As my lap expands, the number of kids who still want me to snuggle them is shrinking. I may have to rent myself out to the infant and young toddler set to get my fill.

And I thought I'd have some wisdom to share by now, but time has not made me wiser; it has only made me older, and increased the aches and pains (and I now sport some gray hairs).

I know I am on the downhill slope of life, and feel like I've been wasting too much time waiting to do or become something more than I am right now, instead of grabbing every drop of life I can while I still can do it. Things have got to change around here, of that I am sure. Time's a wastin', after all.

Half our time is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save.

Will Rogers

Two Days Under My Belt (Like I ever wear a belt): Weaning Myself Off the Bottle

2018-05-01T20:27:00.000-05:00

I am an addict. Gee, that's hard to write, yet it is very cathartic to admit this failing. I am powerless over my addiction to diet soda.

Diet Coke Zero is my drug of choice, but as my addiction has gotten worse, I've found myself drinking Pepsi Maxx and (gasp) store brand diet colas. But when I started swilling The Boy's Diet Dr. Pepper, that's when I knew I had hit rock bottom.

I was hiding empty bottles in my office, or throwing empty two-liter bottles in convenience store trash cans so I could go home and be all "Oh no, I haven't had any soda today. Can I have one of yours?"

Our recycle bin's contents is a testament to my addiction to diet soda (and Amazon shopping - but that's another story).

I quit smoking back in October, so I know I have the self-control to be successful. Instead of my beloved soda, I am now drinking obscene amounts of cold (not iced) tea and water. I fully expected to have migraines from lack of caffeine, but the tea is working out nicely these first two days.

I suppose all of you should invest in tea companies now, as The Boy is also going cold turkey with no soda. On most days, he drank twice as much soda as I did. I'm sorry that Coca-Cola and Dr. Pepper profits will fall.

I don't know how long it takes for aspartame to be cleared from my body, but I expect to exhibit some positive benefits from this health-improving endeavor. I hope I will see my wallet staying fatter, as I'm not spending oodles on beverages that want to kill me. But I have yet to see any savings from not smoking - I think I bought more soda to compensate.

Today's Amazon window shopping involved water coolers, countertop ice makers, and pitchers and insulated travel mugs... so maybe I won't be saving any money in the end.

But I'll no longer be adding bottles to landfills, or poisoning myself with all those chemicals. I've read that detox from diet soda can have withdrawal symptoms that last up to a year (depending upon how long you've been using).

I think it would be advisable to agree with everything The Boy and I say until 2019, to be safe. I know we can do this... one glass at a time.

It's strange how we lose or gain habits - I gave up smoking, and now, soda. If anyone thinks I'm giving up cursing like a sailor, they have another thing coming. Since I'm too old and decrepit for "adult activities" wink, wink - four-letter words may be the last naughty thing I do, so fuck off, Miss Manners.

April is NOT the Cruelest Month Around Here

2018-04-30T00:31:00.001-05:00

We've had a busy month of April. Or maybe the busyness was nine months prior to April, in several years. As Spring is the harbinger of new birth, our family is no exception. We had a baby boom in April of years past - it's a regular girls' club around here. Out of our five granddaughters, three were born in April. Only Jordyn (February), and Anna (October), get a month all to themselves.

Beatrix turned THREE on April 10. She is sweet, considerate, with a dash of sass thrown in. I can't wait to see her learn to roll her eyes, and I am sure her teen years will be quite a hoot! But for now, she is adorable. She loves Care Bears, Moana, and Dora.

Leah turned FIVE on April 20. Leah is oh so curious, asking "Why?" after almost every statement. I imagine that in a few years, she will be in the know, because everyone explains things to her now. Leah loves to be read to, and is a big fan of PBS Kids and Youtube.

On April 21, I celebrated a six-month milestone of being cigarette-free. I think I'll consider the date to be six months since the rebirth of my lungs.

Not my actual lungs

I also celebrated my birthday on April 22. It's not polite for a woman to tell her age, so let's just agree that I'm "of a certain age", and have been qualifying for senior discounts for quite a few years.

Desiree turned TWENTY-ONE on April 24. I haven't heard if there was drinking and debauchery on her birthday (not sure I need to know this information). Desi is a sensible young woman and just graduated from esthetician training. She is studying for her state boards, and looks forward to a career at a salon or day spa. She loves all things related to fashion and makeup and has a work ethic that belies her age.

We celebrated all of our birthdays at our April Family Dinner get-together. Desi and I have to set a date for her birthday shopping excursion (a tradition we've had for several years). With every year she ages, I have fewer complaints about the skimpiness of the clothes she picks! :)

We look forward to Spring and Seth's TENTH birthday in May, as well as me weaning myself off the bottle, and a May 12 performance at Listen To Your Mother.

The Magical Gift of Adoption

2018-04-10T00:23:00.001-05:00

This.boy. Our eleventh grandchild.

Sean.

Perfect. Beautiful blue eyes.

Happy.

This bringer of joy, this restorer of hope and childlike wonder. This little guy who knows only love.

He celebrated his first birthday in March.

He is walking and climbing and is a very busy fellow.

He has a lot to say.

He is a healthy eater, loves mangoes and black beans and avocado, and all manner of good stuff.

After years of infertility, Mom (Erin) and Dad (Daryl) opened their hearts to hope and jumped through the hoops of adoption. After being active on American Adoptions for only two and a half weeks, they were chosen to be Sean's parents, and they met their two day-old son.

Each and every day, I say a silent "Thank you" to his birth parents; they made the difficult decision to place their precious son for adoption, and chose Erin and Daryl.

Erin with the once super clean and organized home, is now living with the chaos of a toddler with toys.

She smiles and laughs a lot now, and has embraced motherhood with aplomb.

Daryl is an attentive and loving father, and co-parents with Erin to make sure Sean has everything he needs.

Sean is a pleasant and mostly easy-going guy, though he has claimed the cat tree as his own climbing equipment.

Erin told me they named Sean after her cousin Shaun. The elder Shaun is a veteran and Erin's hero. When I looked up the meaning of the name Sean, it said Gift from God.

He is indeed a gift.

Poof! I'm Back

2018-03-22T23:13:00.001-05:00

Hi. I'm waving at you. Yeah, over here, it's Kim. Remember me? I've missed our little chats.

It's been ages since I blogged. What has been happening to me and those in my life?

The Boy is now a man, and is still at home. The Mister is working; I am not.

We have continued the tradition of monthly family dinners at our house. If everyone can make it, there are 17 at the table(s). Good food, good times, sometimes a craft for the kids. Mostly, it's noisy, chaotic, lovely family time.

**I am up to my eyeballs in political theater.

I am a news junkie. This shenanigans and constant churn in our current administration may drive me over the edge. I.cannot.get.enough - until.I've.had.too.much, then I unplug, watch Netflix and get my mind together for my next activity (immediately below).

**I taught myself to crochet.

Yes, I'm a hooker now. I sometimes carry a nine millimeter, and I play with balls.

Unfortunately, there's no money in one of the oldest professions - not for me, anyway. I'm up to my hoohaw with yarn. It multiplies in dark closets and in vacuum-sealed bags. It's taking over the house. I am running out of hiding places to stash yarn I will never use, but that I had to have - and need to hide from The Mister.

Have I mentioned I have lots of pretty colors of yarn?

I've made some blankets, some scarves, and I'm learning stuff every time I pick up the crochet hook. Of course, one of the things I learn is that I still suck at it, and will more often than not, have to tear out ("frog") all of my rows and start anew... again.

And when I'm not stressing out about how shitty something looks, I really enjoy the craft. I have joined FB crochet groups, and have started using terms like "lovely", beautiful colors", and "can you please tell me where you got that terrific pattern?"

**I am a member of a writing critique group.

I am a member of WWWP (Wild Women Wielding Pens), where all of the criticism is helpful, and the laughter and conversation is easy. Twice a month we all share what we've written, and improve our craft of writing through suggestions and examples.

**I am in the cast of the 2018 Listen to Your Mother St. Louis show.

On May 12, I will take the stage with other mothers and we'll all share our stories. When I was in the cast of the inaugural show, it was an amazing experience, and am friends with those castmates. I expect to have a similar experience this year. I am looking forward to it!

**I have been wracked with blogger guilt for my negligence of The Ratio of Failures. My failure ratio has been 1:1 for almost a year - I must remedy that. I have missed reading your blog posts (assuming that I still have one, maybe two, followers left). I've missed hearing about your lives - your successes, your challenges, and all news, good and bad.

I have a request to make, though I haven't done anything to warrant your attention or concern. Have some patience with me, yet keep me accountable. Get on my ass if I go away again. Send me scathing emails at kimrsch@yahoo dot com. Or send me jokes that are NSFW, or jokes that make you snort. I miss snorting (not a drug reference).

I am also going to update the About Me page, as we've added a grandchild (SQUEE!), and all of the kids have gotten a year older.

I am going to start slowly here. I figure posting twice a week to start is about all I can handle now. I hope to be able to show you crochet catastrophes, and share some good times with all of you.

Glad to be back.

Mean it,

Kim

Back of the Book Blurb Friday - May 5, 2017

2017-05-04T15:19:00.002-05:00

Once again, I am compelled to write one of Sioux Roslawski's book blurbs. Here the picture which serves as the book's cover:

Parenting: The Ultimate Customer Service Career
How You Can Manage Your Children's Expectations
by Cuttem Sum Slack

The key to success in any career involves managing customer expectations. A diner at a five-star restaurant expects clean linen tablecloths, dimmed lighting, and fancy presentation of entrees on teeny, tiny plates. Conversely, a diner has lowered expectations for a fast food drive-thru meal. 'You get what you pay for' applies in both situations.

The same can be said for your kids when they clamor for your time, attention, and your wallet. Do they want your undivided attention, want it NOW, AND want the best stuff money can buy?

It's time to manage those expectations, parents! Mr. Slack offers tips (and a link to a download of the sign on the cover) that will allow your children to face the reality that they cannot have it all. You'll learn how to barter your valuable time to satisfy expectations, and give your kids a boost in independence in the process.

NOTE: 149 words. This blog post meets the FAST and CHEAP requirements. Two outta three ain't bad (which is the ratio Mr. Slack recommends in this book).

Back of the Book Blurb Friday - March 24 and March 31, 2017 - A Two-Fer

2017-03-30T23:28:00.000-05:00

Sioux Roslawski is the inspiration for (last Friday's and) today's post. The goal is to write a book blurb from the following picture:

I'm such a slacker I'm doing a two-fer to make up for it. Here's the March 24 installment:

Snake Eyes: How a Stay in Room 215 Almost Killed Me
by Lao C. Odds

For years, I had heard about people who struck it rich in the casinos of Vegas. How they went from rags to riches on the boulevard of neon. For me, it wasn't the case at all. I went there filled with hope, and barely escaped with my life.

It all started when attendants to a herpetology convention took over half of the rooms in the Stardust hotel. Those lovers of all things slithery were living large and learning all about their favorite reptilians.

Unbeknownst to me, Freddy, a full-grown Copperhead, escaped his cage in Room 215. On my first day at the hotel, Freddy struck - and sunk his fangs into my calf, his venom wreaking havoc with my body.

The odds were against me, but I hit the jackpot of LIFE - and met my $6000 deductible in the process.

Read all about my death-defying adventure in Las Vegas.
(150 words)

Okay, the current picture:

Making America ~~Great~~ Selfish ~~Again~~ - Mine, Mine, All Mine!
by Moe Stuff Nowe

The United States has become a nation of whiny brats. Americans take what they want, and control everything (and everyone) that deigns to come to their borders.

How did we fall so far off that pedestal of generosity so fast?

Read the current research on conspicuous consumption and how our leaders have encouraged the "gimmeization" of our country.

Thought leaders discuss how we can return to a kinder, gentler America - or are we too late to change back?

Here's what readers say about Making America Selfish - Mine, Mine, All Mine!:

Author's note:
The rest of the page is blank because the author refused to pay the reviewers for comments. Selfish bastards.

113 words - where do I pick up my check?

Back of the Book Blurb - February 24, 2017

2017-02-24T10:10:00.002-06:00

Sioux Roslawski is the inspiration for today's post. The goal is to write a book blurb from the following picture:

Since I'm not known to follow rules, you can view Sioux's page to get all the details about how to participate and read everyone else's submission.

A Picture is Worth 1000 Words and More - How the Who's That Face (WTF) App Has Turned Us All into Shallow Bastards

by I.C. Yu

If you've tried online dating, you are familiar with heavily edited profile pictures or potential dates using dated (and more flattering) pictures to snag potential suitors.

But now, a smartphone app can help you pick Miss or Mr. Right.

Using facial recognition software combined with police missing person age-enhancement technology, the WTF app can take any profile pic and show you what someone looks like at any stage in their life.

Their advanced age-enhancement feature creates a 3D hologram of your photo subject and lets you get a 360-degree view of their physical features.

Don't want your future wife to have love handles? Find out now, before you say "I Do". Want to see if your husband develops male-pattern baldness in middle age? You can start saving for his eventual hair transplant surgery now.

Take the guesswork out of life-long love. Know who you're getting from the very start.

148 words

Places I Love to Visit...and I Want to Live There - February 23, 2017

2017-02-23T03:07:00.003-06:00

Today's post is inspired by Mama Kat. The prompt I chose:
Show us a place you love to visit.

I used to be able to say that I was a vagabond, eager to take roads to see where they go, moving cross country, and to different states every year or two.

But now? Not so much. Maybe it's my age, or just maybe, I have found my place, and don't need to wander anymore.

I try not to love inanimate objects, really I do. If they can't love me back, then I can only muster a lukewarm appreciation for the item.

But my home is a different thing. It feels weird, typing the word "home". I never thought I'd find a place to live where I felt AT home - but since July, I have been very much at home here.

Our home is nothing fancy - it's not grand or ostentatious. It's not even particularly roomy...but I like it.

Even though we've been here seven months now, I still find myself walking into a room and thinking, I get to live here. I visit each room, and smile, knowing that it's ours, and I freaking get to live here.

They say that home is where the heart is. My heart has always been in the middle of my chest, all along, but this is the first place I've felt a kinship to.

It's wonderful.

It's wonderful how my not-so-fancy home is where I want to be most. I enjoy having our monthly family dinners and getting to play with the grandchildren, and watch how the family interacts as we sit after dinner.

I write in my office and glance over at the shelves filled with toys for the grandkids to play with. They come in and trash the place, and despite the chaos that may ensue, I am happy.

I clean far more often than I ever had. I finally, after six decades, have developed some weird sense of pride of ownership. And the monthly family dinners means that I'm guaranteed to clean the house regularly (though I would appreciate some additional help from the male members of the household regarding cleaning up after themselves).

Home sweet home

If you're ever in my neighborhood, don't hesitate to stop in. I now love company, too!

Who am I? What have they done with Kim?

Before you come over for a visit, be sure to check out all the responses to Mama Kat's writing prompts!

Back of the Book Blurb Friday - February 17, 2017

2017-02-18T20:14:00.000-06:00

I'm a day late. Despite my tardiness,

Sioux Roslawski offers this photo as inspiration to for this week's book blurb:

Visit Sue's site to get all the particulars about how to play along.

But you know what? I'm a rule breaker! The minute I saw this picture, I immediately had an idea about what story to write. Once I got started, I found it hard to stop - so I may have exceeded the world limit (172 words). Oops.

Let's Swing! Midwestern Couples Know Where the Action Is
by Dickie Dunkin II

Did you know that Kansas City (MO and KS) was birthplace of Swing music in the 1930s? From Charlie Parker to Glen Miller, folks got off on the bepop-like tunes and catchy rhythms.

But there is a darker tone to Swing - something about these melodies caused monogamous Midwestern couples to "dance" with other partners to whom they were not married. House keys were dropped in a bowl upon entry to dance parties held at the popular Notel Bar and Lounge.

When the song "In the Mood" (a popular Glen Miller classic) was played, all men picked a different set of numbered house keys, and found their "dance" partner for the night. It was a hot time in the old town on those nights.

Unfortunately, Swing was replaced by rock 'n roll. The Notel Lounge closed. But swingers knew a perfect substitute location for meeting like-minded folks.

So the next time you see a Midwestern couple hanging out by the swing set, know that they are desiring a far more intimate ride.

Back of the Book Blurb Friday - February 10, 2017

2017-02-09T23:45:00.002-06:00

The oh-so clever Sioux Roslawski hosts the weekly Back of the Book Blurb extravaganza, where you write a book blurb (synopsis and/or reader's reviews) for a book - based on a picture of Sioux's choice. The rules? You're limited to 150 words (not counting the title of your book).

Today's photographic inspiration:

Hitting Eighty - How Two Octogenarians Who Misplaced their False Teeth Found Adventure

Minnie Fiedler and Vivian Walters had had it with Clear Pines Nursing Home. Tired of the smells of urine, overcooked vegetables, as well as the smell and sounds of Mildred Fox's incessant farting, the two residents stole the home's minivan and headed west. Equipped with a Rand McNally atlas, a couple of bingo dabbers, and some Geritol, these two golden girls planned to pool their Social Security checks to have some fun and hit it big in Vegas.

Staying one step ahead of the law, the two escapees (and newly-identified felons) met up with a motley crew: a trucker, two lapsed Catholic nuns, and a Chevy full of chicken pluckers - to have the time of their lives.

Minnie and Vivian and gang (clad in Goodwill castoffs) rolled the dice and came up winners in Sin City, and never looked back.

140 something words (hey, I kept editing).

Coming to the (Political) Party in My 60th Year

2017-02-08T01:55:00.000-06:00

Ever since I was a child, I was interested in politics. The first election that got my interest was Richard Nixon's first term.

I taught my young niece to say "yucky" when I showed her a picture of our President.

An instigator since my youth, maybe the rabble rouser gene has lain dormant all this time.

Oh yes, I voted, every election. I read about the candidates and voted for the ones who I thought would do the most good for the most people.

Oh, my bleeding heart.

I disagreed with some administrations more than others. There hasn't been one sitting President in all this time that I agreed with 100%.

I volunteered for my first political campaign in 2012, because of one particular quote from a candidate for US Senate:

“If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”

There's no way I could let this misguided man represent me in the Senate. I called the local county political party office and volunteered. Once a week, I made phone calls - urging voters to elect our incumbent Senator, instead of electing this man whose ideas were far to the right of moderate.

Not that I take any credit (okay, maybe I do, a little), the incumbent was re-elected and the political machinations of the Federal government continued.

Now to the election of our 45th President. I will not say his name, as I find myself throwing up a bit in my mouth as soon as I finish articulating the letter 'p'.

It's only been NINETEEN days, people - have you ever seen such a mess?

When the smoking pen from all the executive orders cooled down, there was a ban on visa and/or green card holders from seven nations that left me disappointed, angry, and showing me an America I did not recognize - and could not accept.

Through the elections I've voted in (my first in 1976), I have never felt the necessity to hit the streets and exercise my First Amendment rights. But now I do.

Clad with homemade signs, we were ready to go.

The Boy and I headed to our Republican Senator's local office, and we participated along with about 1,000 of our fellow residents. We chanted, we talked with fellow protesters (a nice group of folks). The Boy had his Muppet Edna with him (she had all the best chants).

Edna had quite a following. Several people wanted her picture, and a reporter from St. Louis Public Radio interviewed the guy with his hand up Edna's butt for his reasons for attending the protest.

During our time on the sidewalk, I kept one eyeball on the riot vest-attired police officers nearby, their black nylon zip tie handcuffs blowing in the breeze.

Though there were a few protesters who sported Anonymous masks and odd American flags, there was no trouble. A group of immigrant activists were invited into the building to talk to the Senator about the immigration ban.

Our protest, though hopeful and encouraging to me, did not have the desired effect: the Senator supported the travel ban (and he also supported Bet$y DeVo$, billionaire campaign contributor, for Secretary of Education.

I thought I would lose my shit when that vote came down.

I've become a Twitter user (oh, I've had an account for years, but it, like my blog, has been largely neglected).

I've become someone I hate - a Twitter bully, channeling my inner President #45. He's usually my victim, so I take some solace in that - and I totally understand the jolt of positive feelings that occurs when a Tweet is liked or retweeted (perhaps I have some narcissistic tendencies myself).

The Boy is asking when we are going to protest again - I think I've re-ignited a fire in him (it's not HIS first protest), as well as sparked some radical notions in myself. I think he and I will remain active during this time of change. Edna was not available for comment, so I don't know what her intentions are.

When I confessed my Twitter sins on Facebook, Tammy sent me a picture to remind me of possible consequences.

I figure I can coerce the grandkids to slide my phone under the cell Tammy has devised and Tweet myself silly.

I may be late to the party, but I intend to keep dancing.

Back of the Book Blurb Friday

2016-10-28T00:13:00.002-05:00

My writer friend, Sue Roslawski, is hosting Back of the Book Blurb Friday, where you write a book blurb based on a photo of her choosing. The word limit is 150 (not including the title of your book.

Here's our inspiration:

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Disasters
by H. E. Lium

Ninety years in the parade business is a long time...but Macy's reaches that milestone in 2016. Their reign as heroes of helium is not without its problems, however. In Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Disasters, H. E. Lium (a former parade float coordinator) will regale you with tales of tipsy Rockettes, a Santa with a potty mouth, and the year (2005) the Garfield balloon took off the head of an Apollo statue in Central Park. Along with sound system malfunctions, West Coast high school bands whose instruments were lost in baggage claim, and disgruntled balloon tenders who robbed parade goers when they found out this was a volunteer gig, you'll wonder why someone at Macy's hasn't let the air out of their balloons and called it a day.

You'll watch this year's parade with new eyes after reading the sensational stories in this book.

Envy? Don't Mind if I Do...But Don't Worry, This Too Shall Pass

2016-10-26T00:01:00.000-05:00

Today's word from Lynn's envelope of random writing prompts: ENVY

If I were to think about the Seven Deadly Sins (Greed, Sloth, Envy, Pride, Covetousness, Anger, and Gluttony), I'd say I've sinned via Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy.

Lazy? Check.
Belly up to the buffet, elastic on my stretch pants close to tearing? Check.

But as lazy and as gluttonous as I've been, I've far exceeded my allotment in envy.

Oh, how I have been struck feeling envious these last 15 years. From preschool until right this minute, I have had periodic bouts of envy as I viewed the greener grass on everyone else's side of the child-rearing fence.

How I've wanted what other families had.

I envied their having children without disabilities, mental illness, or all manner of challenges.

How easy you've all had it...and I had it that way, too, with my daughters. School was not a big deal. They had friends, they had jobs, they made their way into adulthood without much interference from me.

It hasn't been the case in parenting The Boy.

When I found one of his former babysitters on Facebook, she regaled me with tales of her daughter's high school success, cheerleading squad membership, part-time job, and driver's license. Pretty, AND a straight-A student, if you will.

Then it was my turn.

Crickets.

I had no normal high school accomplishments to expound upon.

Our Facebook conversation got a bit awkward, and I knew she was not ready for the truckload of shit I was going to spread all over her typically green, manicured lawn.

The Boy didn't go to a public high school - he went to a school that specialized in educating quirky kids who marched to a different drummer.

There were no star athletes, and no athletic teams. No extra-curricular activities (unless you counted outpatient therapy or behavior therapist appointments).

We had excitement, of course: hospitalizations, arrests, time in juvie, probation - you know, the fun stuff.

At 21, he's working on getting his second part-time job, and he's nowhere close to being able to drive.

Oh, how I wished he could have had the growing up experiences my daughters had; the ones that the babysitter's daughter had.

How different our lives would have been? How disgustingly normal we'd be.

But...then again, I would not want to miss his quirky sense of humor, the literalness of some comments - but I could stand a few fewer inappropriate remarks he's made to complete strangers. Like last month, when he told the women writers I invited over that he'd want others to know that I was a crack whore.

That, right there? I could do without.

Because of The Boy's "issues", we've met some wonderful people who want only the best for him. We've met parents in the same leaky boat as we're in, and we've helped each other bail out the water when a leak appears.

I have become a kinder, gentler, less judgy parent - my empathy for others is quite high. That has brought me positive rewards as I give people the benefit of the doubt and react with kindness (when other people might be a tad upset with the behavior displayed by other children who haven't yet successfully navigated the waters of social skills).

Having to deal with The Boy has made me pull up my granny panties and face the truth - and it always hasn't been pretty (the truth as well as me in granny panties). But it's made me see that I have the strength and stamina and unconditional love that has been necessary, and that's kind of fabulous.

No, I'M fabulous.

When I take all of this into consideration, my envy melts away, and I realize I have the kid I was supposed to have, and the life that was designed for me.

Of course, if any of you want to experience all the glory of The Boy for a couple hours, I'd be willing to pay you to take him off my hands - but in the long run, I think I'll keep him.

Normal is so overrated. Quirky is the new black (or something like that). For me, crazy is the new normal.

I surely don't want any of you to be bummed out that I have had this fabulous life while your decidedly average offspring boringly meet all milestones right on schedule.

Who's envying who now, huh?

NOTE: Due to zillions of fan requests (okay, maybe one), I have updated the About Me page. I hope you'll stop by for a visit! Consider me new and improved!

Objects (and Obstacles) May Appear Larger Than They Are

2016-10-25T00:36:00.000-05:00

Today's post courtesy of Lynn's envelope filled with random words (to spark inspiration for writing). The word of the day is:

GIANT

Take a trip inside my inner dialogue. My pep talk with myself. My daily affirmations. Call it what you will.

Without foresight, obstacles seem insurmountable, challenges seem impossible to overcome.

STRUGGLE

But with a bit of bravery (or faked bravery), and some faith in yourself, it is possible to accomplish goals that seem out of your reach.

DETERMINATION

Do it anyway. And don't TRY to do it, do it. Fake it until you make it.

EMBRACE UNCERTAINTY

Believe (and behave) as if.

As if you have no chance of failure.
As if it's a breeze, a walk in the park, a piece of cake. You know, easy.
As if you had as much faith in yourself as your best friends and family have in you.

Take that leap of faith.

DARE TO HOPE

Hope alone won't get you there, it's going to take WORK. Hard work.

DARE TO BE GREAT

BE THE BADASS YOU ARE MEANT TO BE.

How am I so audacious to think I can accomplish anything?

How can I not be? I am a rock star, waiting to take on the world.

Where did this confidence come from?

A smidge of it has been inside me, and it peeks out from time to time, and I approach awesomeness.

But the difference, I dare to say, came from a book. An audiobook that makes me feel like I can do.it.all.

What is this book that is changing my mindset as I listen to the author-narrator?

You Are a Badass: How to Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life, by Jen Sincero

Buy it on Amazon, but only if you want

With this new-found enthusiasm and self-confidence, I am going to write this freaking novel if it's the last thing I do. I want it so bad I can taste it. It may suck, it may be the worst book ever written - but it will be written.

Now that I've put it all out there, I'll be damned if I'm going to fail and feel like a loser.

You doubters can suck it.

NaNoWriMo starts next week, and I'm going to participate. I will have a lousy time, I'm sure. It will be hard and painful and I'm going to hate that I've made this commitment.

And I may think that I should BE committed...but I will see this through.

As I type this, the negative Nellie in my head is telling me that I can't, that I shouldn't, that I ought not dare to make such outrageous statements.

Screw you, Nellie. I have a female sociopathic protagonist who wants to rack up an impressive body count.

A week from today, the fun begins. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth. I'll probably be wearing a permanent scowl on my face. Much cursing will ensue. But along with all that ugliness, I will prove to myself that I have the determination to see this through.

And I have all ~~my millions of fans~~ three of you readers to keep me accountable.

I will not let you down. And I will not let myself down. And I for damn sure don't want Jen Sincero to think me a wuss (like she knows me).

Consider this my manifesto slash book review. Buy the book already...and when my book gets published, I'd be honored if you would give my book a look-see, too.

I Want to Go On a Murderous Crime Spree - Come Along for the Ride!

2016-10-16T22:51:00.002-05:00

Haven't you always wanted to be a serial killer?

No?

Me either...until now. It's high time I cull the herd.

Now before you alert the authorities, let me explain.

I'm ~~trying to write~~ writing a novel. My victims will only be real on paper.

Whew, there, I put it in print. Now it's a fact.

I AM WRITING A FREAKIN' NOVEL.

I've made a commitment - I expect you all to hold me to it...but don't become naggy bitches - that never works with me. I'll end up rebelling against all of you and never type another word of the story.

My protagonist is a female serial killer. She is NOT going to kill 'em with kindness.

Here's where I'm finding myself wavering. I know that this may be hard to believe, but I've never tortured and killed anyone...yet, though I must admit that I've had some revenge fantasies...but I digress.

What prompted this writing goal?
I was asked to join a critique group. The members are excellent writers, and are so encouraging and positive about writing. Writing is their thing. I want it to be my thing, too. I intend on taking full advantage of this opportunity.

You can read their blogs: Linda, Lynn, and Sioux. I'm not sure Laura has a blog. Lynn was nice enough to send me a book "Without Conscience" about the ins and outs of being a psychopath. There aren't many female sociopaths...I figure one more won't hurt.

With the critique group, I feel successful and accomplished (and I keep telling myself all these positive ~~lies and/or~~ affirmations daily). I want to expand on this era of good feelings and work on this writing goal.

Problem is that I'm afraid of the Google searches I may have to do (and worry about alerting Homeland Security or the FBI with my search history).

So, I'm coming to ask YOU for advice: What is the most excruciating murder method you can think of? It needs to be slow and painful...my character wants to enjoy the experience.

If any of you have personal experience knowing or being a homicidal maniac, that would be so helpful to me.

The Boy has given me some tips. He will come into my office (oh yeah, I have a home office...squee) and say, "Mom, let's play a game of Hide the Body. I'll go first. I have a bathtub full of sulfuric acid and a bone saw ready."

Maybe the authorities need to look at HIS search history. He said that was one of Jeffrey Dahmer's methods when he was not hungry for some flesh.

Then, today, I saw this image on Facebook, and realized that I'm not the only one who has these macabre thoughts:

Let's do this, shall we? It won't hurt a bit...

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop: Creating a Post (and Finding my Mojo) Through Shameless Host(ess) Promotion

2016-08-31T21:55:00.002-05:00

This post is thanks to Mama Kat and her pretty much world famous Writer's Workshop. The prompt I selected:

Write a post where the first and last sentence contain any form of the word “find.”

I gotta FIND some new hobbies, or restart old ones. I've pretty much given up on blogging. This working from home full-time gig is great, but at the end of the workday, I want to do nothing more than waste time on Facebook, and coerce the Mister into spending craploads of money for items on Craigslist.

Hey, we bought a house - post-purchase conspicuous consumption is where it's at! And by 'post-purchase conspicuous consumption', I mean Missouri - that's where it's at.

And frankly, it's hard not to want to spend money when the flooring in one of your rooms is nothing but pennies.

Ninety THOUSAND pennies - a constant reminder that we'll never be broke, so why not buy [insert next bright and shiny object I desire that happens to cost less than $900].

Anyway, tonight, while wasting time on Facebook, Mama Kat had a post about Instagram and the Dixie Chicks...and before I knew what was happening to me, I fell into the rabbit hole that is MamaKatTV and LPS Days.

Mama Kat, how many zillions of dollars have you spent on Little Pet Shop (LPS) characters and their accessories?

They're cute and all, and I kinda wish one of the grandkids were into LPS so I could gaze upon all the amazing stuff (as long as the parents pay for it).

I'm lying. I would totally use a jackhammer to pull up the flooring to buy some LPS stuff for the little darlings.

Your videos are funny and engaging and IS HASBRO SPONSORING YOU?

I enjoy the vignettes and life lessons you deliver in your videos, and it makes me want to get all back into blogging and airing my family's quirks and dirty laundry on the internet again.

Don't even get me started on all the great tips Mama Kat has provided in her shopping excursions to her Dollar Store...I'm a big fan (now).

Thanks, Mama Kat. I think I've FOUND my inspiration.

The First 430 Days of Joy

2016-06-23T21:41:00.000-05:00

I am a lousy blogger, a disinterested housekeeper, and a fair-to-middling mother. What I think I excel at are procrastination and being a Grandma, which is the best gig ever.

All of that being true, let me tell you about one of the little rays of sunshine in our lives.

Here's a retrospective of our Beatrix's first year, the one-woman wrecking crew with a smile that will melt your heart.

View on Flipagram

Beatrix Rose is 430 days old. Yes, I know, that's some odd math I'm doing. I had promised her mom, Tammy (my gorgeous stepdaughter), that I'd blog about her "1der Woman" birthday back in April, but procrastination and life got in the way. I guess late is better than not at all.

The name Beatrix means "she who brings happiness" or "she who brings joy". This girl is living up to her name. She's a treat, and has her mother wrapped around her little finger...and the rest of the family curled around her other chubby digits.

Beatrix is a "rainbow baby" - a baby born following a miscarriage. After baby Taylor died, the family needed some joy in their life. And what better way to make a family happy than to add a little sister to the mix?

She certainly has my number. She's pretty adept at using her cuteness to get her way. She is happy more often than not, and easily flashes her pearly whites for the camera (when she's in the mood to be compliant).

Beatrix is extremely efficient at cleaning all the food off her plate - by dropping it on the floor for Murphy, the dog to eat. That dog is better at floor cleaning than any Swiffer (though the Swiffer has never left a deuce on the patio).

I have been fortunate enough to watch Beatrix on a semi-regular basis. Though it's not following the rules of the house, I like to hold her and talk to her and sing to her when she's getting sleepy. Now, she may be going to sleep as a self-defense mechanism to get away from the horrible way I sing, but I prefer to think that I soothe her and comfort her into a level of well-being that she drifts off to dreamland.

The last time I watched her, The Boy asked why I wasn't putting her in her crib for her nap while Beatrix dozed against me.

My response? "I have this day. I don't know how much longer before she will not allow me to snuggle with her and help her get to sleep. I am not missing this for the world."

Beatrix has started walking now; soon she'll be running behind her brothers Seth and Russell, and chasing them...and catching up to them. It won't be long at all. Until she starts rejecting my offers of snuggling and ear-bleeding singing, I'm going to take every opportunity I can to suck up all the sleepy Beatrix time I can.

What can I say, I'm a sucker for joy, too.

Some Motherly Advice...Or How Mother's Day is the One Day to be Intrusive and Nosy (and still get a gift)

2016-05-07T00:33:00.001-05:00

I haven't posted in a long time. It's nice to be back, though I had to reacquaint myself with Blogger.

Mother's Day (and my approaching decrepitude) have me thinking about what advice I would give to my children, or to anyone who would want to read my incoherent ramblings.

I figure Mother's Day is the one day I could be be forgiven for being inappropriately nosy.

Anyway, this advice is written primarily for the adult children in our family - the five girls and one boy who have my heart. In no particular order:

Don’t settle for second best in your life’s work. Reach for your goals; you can achieve them if you work hard and have a bit of luck. If your goals don’t match what others think you should be doing, forget them. You don’t need that negativity in your life. Don’t sell yourself short: You deserve to get what you work for. Don’t settle for the junk that provides the instant gratification. Wait, save, and get what you really want.
Don’t settle in important relationships. Don’t let someone else hide your light, or take it from you. Share it if you want, but you both should be adding to the brightness. You deserve to shine. Sometimes it may be better to live alone than to let your partner make your life less joyous.
Always carry some cash with you. There are still places that won’t accept your credit/debit card. And sometimes, you just have a hankerin' for a Slurpee.
Pay yourself first. Save money every payday. Even if it’s just a few dollars a week – every woman should have an escape fund. If you don’t need to escape, it’s good to have the money when unexpected bills pop up (and they will).
You are loved. You are enough. Don’t pay any attention to those who say otherwise. Mothers know these things. J
Be kind if possible. An unreturned kindness is never wasted. Maybe there will come a day when the recipient has appreciation for what you’ve done. If not, then you know that you did a good deed…that knowledge is enough.
An unmet want will never kill you, but an unmet need could. Be sure to get what you need, and be patient about what you want if it isn’t within your reach yet.
Sometimes you win an argument by staying silent. But if you see a person being unkind to another, don’t remain silent. Call them out on their bad behavior.
I figure my own life (and its many mistakes) is more of an example of what NOT to do, other than a roadmap to a happy life. My feelings will not be hurt if you choose a different path than I have. In fact, I'd probably encourage it!
Many disagreements arise from tone of voice and the method of message delivery – not the message itself. Think about how you phrase your words to not put the other person immediately on the defensive.
Do not put much stock in what the “experts” say is beautiful. You are already beautiful – choose health and comfort over fashion that causes pain.
Trust your gut: If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t right. But if you have doubts, talk it over with someone you trust (maybe even your mother). I am available only for solicited opinions and advice – I’m not the meddling mother-in-law type.
Look for opportunities to be silly and playful – never lose your childlike wonder in the world. It’s pretty amazing here.
As you age, you will find that gravity always wins. Embrace it – it is part of life. Don’t feel like you have to physically alter your body to feel young. A youthful attitude will serve you much longer than Botox will.
Age, but don't get old and cranky. You don't want to be the neighbor all the neighborhood kids are scared of.
Worry steals today’s joy, and doesn’t prevent (or solve) tomorrow’s troubles. I still struggle with this; sometimes it helps to set a timer and worry the hell out of stuff until the buzzer goes off. Then get on with your day – most things we worry about are not in our control anyway.
Take care of your health while you’re still healthy. Do as I say, not as I do.
Things usually work out as they should – but it may not be on your time schedule. Have some faith.
Bring joy into someone else’s life whenever possible – the best way to feel better about your own situation is to help someone who needs your assistance. Be useful. Be someone’s champion.
Learn to cook. Appreciate the bountiful food that’s available. Experiment in the kitchen, try new dishes, use spices that you normally wouldn’t use. If you’re using a recipe, you’ll soon learn when it’s okay to do some substitution. Bake a cake from scratch, and make real buttercream frosting. Pile it on thick, and for once, don’t worry about the calories in that little slice of heaven.
Travel if you can. Learn about other cultures, other customs. Be a citizen of the world – even if you never leave your own city.Read for pleasure. Read for knowledge. Read books of all genres, even poetry. Read to your children (oops, unsolicited parenting advice creeping in).
Sing along with the radio in the car. Hum. Whistle. Dance in your chair when a catchy tune comes on. Feel the joy in the creativity of others, and occasionally lose yourself in your own creativity.
Preserve your family history. Talk to the oldest people in your family about their lives. Find out about life before computers, before color TV. Write down important facts and observations from your own life…for one day, you will be the old person. There are days when I can’t remember a name or event from the past, and I wish I could still ask my parents about it. Identify people in photos (either on the back), or tag them in Facebook. Someday, you may find a picture in the back of a drawer and wonder who the hell that person is.
Tell your children (or other family members) about your best memories from childhood. Talk about your day, ask them how their day went. Never forget to make those connections.
Be yourself. You’re the only one who can do it. Be you. Be great. Remember, each day is another opportunity for excellence.
Finally, some advice for Daniel. Be nice, especially to your mother. She’s your number one fan.

Love,

Mom

What advice would YOU give?

Let Our Lights Shine

2015-11-10T01:16:00.002-06:00

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.

Desmond Tutu

Our neighbor's porch light, a bright green, shines in the darkness in remembrance of a loved sibling who took his life,
another neighbor down the street is grieving for his wife.
We light our deck to support autism awareness, the bulb so old that most of the blue is gone.

Families struggle with pain, poverty, unemployment
mental illness, cancer, all manner of physical ailments and sorrows.
Parents display angel wings in honor of an infant lost to stillbirth or miscarriage.
Loneliness lurks behind closed doors, blinds drawn to encompass the isolation.
Fractured families, fractured hips, Alzheimer's, depression, or despair.
Children struggle at school, and others are lost to addiction and the hopelessness of returning to a life restored to normalcy. Hunger, abuse, neglect - the woes of the earth are here, no matter the size of our town's population.

Gold Star mothers mourn the loss of children who languished and died on foreign soil, their soldier's letters from home tied in ribbon and kept in a nightstand drawer.

Pink ribbons, yellow ribbons, red ones for AIDS, teal for ovarian cancer. Rubberized bracelets for disease, both invisible and overt.

Every illness has its assigned hue.

We need to show OUR true colors, and look for the camaraderie of others who have suffered the same fate.

Maybe, just maybe, if we all lit up the night sky, the colors of our maladies and disappointments would highlight that we all have heartbreak, hurt, and cares that keep us up at night. There'd be no reason to envy our neighbors and friends whose lives seem so charmed - because all of us have cracks and splintered parts. That's how the light gets out for all to see.

Instead, let us start with a smile to our neighbor, a friendly wave, a bit of small talk.

We may find that our compassion and caring for others would cause our own burdens to be a little easier to bear (as all shared burdens are)...and the night sky would be lit by an aura of understanding and hope.

Extend a hand, offer support. Display kindness. Don't judge - nobody's better than anyone else.

What color (or colors) would YOUR light(s) be?

What I Wished I Had Said: The Twenty/Twenty Hindsight Chronicles

2015-11-05T00:02:00.000-06:00

Today's post is inspired by Mama Kat: Tell us about something new you learned last month.

On Halloween, we gathered at Ruth's house for chili, hot dogs, and cheesecake.

WHAT I LEARNED FROM SETH:

"Grandma, you're not Mommy's mom. You're her stepmother. And you're my step-grandmother. Grandpa got divorced from Mommy's mom" (reason redacted). "And then he married YOU."

Yep, he had the facts straight.

His telling of the history of my place in the family left me feeling LESS THAN. Diminished. I had the feeling that I lost status in the pecking order of the family as he (accurately) added the "step" designation before Grandma. Until then, I'd always been Grandma Kim. I felt like I got demoted; like I was no longer on the starting team, but was brought in from the bench as a substitute. I was at a loss for words as how to respond.

Seth was born in May, and I arrived on the scene in June. I've watched him grow and learn, and love spending time discussing things with him (as he is very smart, and is eager to share his knowledge). Although he said he wants to be "just like Daddy" when he grows up, he'd make a great lawyer - Seth can debate like nobody's business, always figuring out what the best angle to take. He is a great big brother to Russell and baby Beatrix. His one annoying flaw? The kid cheats at checkers. Never play checkers with him. Not ever.

After dinner, the grandkids (and the eternal child, The Boy) got ready to go trick or treating. As I sat and watched the costumed children knock on the door and call out "Trick or Treat", in my head, I was figuring out how I should have responded to Seth.

WHAT I WISHED I HAD SAID:

He has no idea how blessed I feel to have been here to see his life unfold, or how lucky I am to have entered into a family where I have felt welcome and accepted.

Although I knew that I was getting The Mister in this matrimonial deal, the gifts of affection, love, tolerance and inclusion that I have received from the entire family have been a tremendous blessing and have added such richness to my life.

I know I'm just a "step" (fill in the blank) - the thing is, they've never let me feel like I wasn't a part of the family chaos from the very beginning. I am not their mother - they already have a mother. I had the luxury of being a friend.

I am lucky and grateful and crazy about every one of them, whether they call me Mom, Kim, Grandma Kim, Step-Grandma Kim, or Hey, You.

WHAT I KNOW TO BE TRUE:

Most people are lucky if they have children - but I'm doubly blessed - in this marital "package deal", I gained three adult daughters who allowed me into their lives and into the lives of their families without reservation. I have three adult stepdaughters ('step' used only to indicate that I did not give birth to them) - and their spouses, and EIGHT grandchildren added to the package I arrived with.

The gifts I've received keep coming, and our relationships become more deep and rewarding with each passing year.

I've doubled the number of children to love (from three to six), and had an 80% increase in grandchildren to spoil over the past seven years, for a grand total of 10 perfect grandchildren.

If that's not a good return on this investment, I don't know what is.

You should all be so blessed.