Just a Number....

Like the photo above, the talk of elderly drivers is usually humorous in nature, good hearted ribbing, etc. But this morning on the news was an actual story of a 90-year-old driver who had been involved in an accident with a motorcyclist. The driver was found at fault and the biker lost a leg due to his injuries in the accident. He is now pursuing a new law, regulating the licensing and driving of elderly individuals.

So, of course people are already screaming age discrimination and on that principle, I agree. But the truth is, there has long been argument that people's rights cannot be protected at the expense of others' personal safety. There was an attorney on the news as well, clarifying that the actual legal argument was that there needed to be testing, especially for vision and reaction time, after a certain age.

Next came a parade of elderly individuals, predominantly spry and capable looking, touting their qualifications, insisting they were actually better drivers, due to their years of experience.

So far, good arguments on both sides. My side is this;

We don't let twelve-year-olds drive and no one screams age dicrimination. Their age does not afford them the cognitive ability to safely operate a vehicle. It has long been taught that as the elderly get older, they return to a similar state as when they were a baby, toddler and small child. People who have seizures cannot drive and no one screams disability discrimination.

The fact is, nothing that endangers others can be allowed, for the sake of free will. Testing for drivers, at whatever age or intervals the Department of Transportation sees fit, is not unfair. Having a license is a privilege that has to be earned by taking and passing a test. The state in which this accident occurred, did not require a driving or vision test for renewal. Just complete a written refresher quiz and pay the fee!

In Arizona, a driver's license is good for fifty years. How does this make sense? The photo would not even match.

We have to be careful we don't do more harm than good, when blinded by the pursuit of our almighty rights.

Reaching Out

It's been an interesting week. A recurring theme has come to me, which has to do with people reaching out to one another, to connect, to communicate, to intersect in some way. This isn't always good. It isn't always anything. As is true with everything people do, every encounter can be as different as night and day.

On the one hand, what happens when you feel like you want to reach out to someone, maybe a friend, an acquaintance or even a stranger, because you feel you can help. Perhaps some life event has found you and this person on common ground, sharing some struggle or even a triumph. I received two emails this week, from mothers of disabled children, both whose children were injured unexpectedly, as mine was, right around the same time as my child. We have been in contact through the internet and somehow this week, we came together, all dealing with similar parenting challenges. Due to my knowledge of our shared topic, I feel at ease sharing my opinions, my lessons and my failures.

At the same time, a college course I am taking brought to mind some difficult experiences I had as a child. I have an acquaintance, whose child is going through a similar time and I felt like perhaps I could shed some light, give her some insight that her child could not. But I was not so confident as with my other fellow mothers. Sometimes the messenger is the enemy and I worried that I could incorrectly be comparing myself to her child and that it may actually offend her. So, as much as I wanted to bring her some relief, I opted for a generic message of goodwill, sharing my hope that she and her son come together.

Yesterday was my birthday and I received two very unexpected messages from long lost family members that I haven't spoken to in years. One is a peaceful estrangement, one is someone I have no desire to reconnect with. But the two of them are close, so I have always accepted that the one relationship would have to be a casualty of the other. But the 'peaceful' messages have continued and I am considering responding in a guarded way, to test the waters or at least share a conversation, even if we return to estrangement. I am so afraid to open that door.

Meanwhile, I dabble in online dating. This is the craziest experiment in human connection I have ever experienced. There are so many facets, each of which is worthy of their own blog. How honest are these profiles and what type of dating and relationship experiences have led their participants to reach out to one another in this non-traditional way? When your only initial connection with a stranger is typing and looking at photos, how is it that real emotions can thrive? How much of the way people feel is within themselves and how much is truly a reaction to this other person?

I guess I have never had so much human contact with new people as I have this week. I see it as a good thing, no matter what the root or the outcome. We have to live and touch one another and grow.

Product Warning... Dawn* Power Dissolver

This is a spray bottle, that advertises that it is to be sprayed on pots, pans, glassware, etc... to 'dissolve' baked on, hard to remove food, without scrubbing and faster than soaking. Great!

Now, there is always an amount of risk, skepticism when trying a new product. If it works, it works, if not, I chalk it up to a lesson learned. BUT... simply not working, was the least of my troubles here.

Not only did this $5, smallish bottle of creamy junk NOT work, it actually caked itself on to my dishes, a gritty, almost paint like film, that DOES NOT come off. No amount of soaking or scrubbing helped. I actually had to throw dishes away!!!

Sorry Dawn... no stars, no thumbs. :/

Four Reviews in One! ~

One Day, by David Nicholls
Loved it.
I mean, really loved it, maybe a little too much, maybe until the end. But my disdain was purely personal and not a reflection on the book. You see, I thought I was Emma.
Em and Dex, Dex and Em. When Dexter and Emma are together, they can be fabulous and they can be disastrous. Don’t we all have someone like that in our lives? Beginning in college, they forge a bond and whether they are together every day or let years lapse between their meetings, they are always in each other’s hearts and minds, answering questions they haven’t asked and questioning life decisions they haven’t witnessed.
Somewhere along the line there is flirting, one crazy night, lingering thoughts of something more and even one of those silly promises… “If we never marry, when we’re forty…”
One Day visits each of them on the same day, every year on the same date, a perspective that while interesting and fun, did not over shadow the story or feel forced. I actually forgot about the date angle more than once. Of course the ending brought everything full circle.
For me, One Day was personal, poignant, perhaps a little too close to home. But aside from that, Emma and David were perfectly written and true to their characters. I found myself expecting them to do things, not in a predictable way, but in a way that showed I had come to know them and had expectations, dare say hope for what they would say or do. Ironically, they spend the better part of the book, and their lives, apart. But they are always together.
One Day spoke to me about dreams, disappointment and being true to ourselves with the painful, final message being; Don’t wait. Do not wait.

A Thousand Roses, by Numi Ash
Second on my list of ‘marriage pact’ titles, was A Thousand Roses, by Numi Ash.
Anne DuMonde has her issues. She’s a clutz, unladylike, unrefined and according the images created by author descriptions, I would say unattractive. Yet we are expected to believe that her now dashing and successful, grade school sweetheart has come back to reclaim her after a childhood marriage pact and being separated by disapproving parents. I know, looks aren’t everything, but it wasn’t just looks after all. I have never seen two characters more opposite than Anne & Jake Castle. Despite this annoying theme, I couldn’t put it down. So, what makes a good book? Is the fact that the characters annoyed me ok, as long as the story had me hooked? I’m still not sure.
Despite the romantic undertones, A Thousand Roses included not one mystery, but several. Maybe this made up for the annoying Anne & Jake. I guess my bottom line is that I may have still read the book intently, but also walked away liking the book, had Anne been a little more endearing, had Jake been a little less perfect.
The Marriage Pact, by MJ Pullen
Marci was born in Atlanta, Georgia, where she grew up and attended college at UGA. During those years she forged strong friendships, with Suzanne, Rebecca… and Jake. Jake always floated somewhere between flirty coed and sweet older brother, until one night when too much tequila led to a cocktail napkin contract, to marry when they were thirty, if they hadn’t married anyone else.
Ten years later, Marci is in love with Doug, her married boss in Austin, Texas, when she receives the email from Jake, hoping to collect on that promise. It may have been forgotten in the trash folder, had her secret affair not fallen apart soon after, sending her running back to Atlanta, and leaning on Suzanne, Rebecca…and Jake. This is where we all assume a happy ending is not far away, but of course, Doug shows up in Atlanta!
The Marriage Pact, for me, was a close second to One Day, without all the personal meaning and sentiment. The story is believable, with real people, real problems and a realistic, albeit bumpy ending. Life is bumpy. Meanwhile, the ‘marriage pacts’ are three for three!

**

On August 19, 2011 One Day was released in theaters, starring Anne Hathaway & Jim Sturgess…

I absolutely love when I get to see a movie, of which I have already read the book! This time, it was totally planned and intentional, as I read the book, about three weeks before the movie was released. Seeing a movie after you have read the book, is of course, different. You already know quite a bit, but the fun part is what you do not know. They can change a little or they can change a lot!
So the review becomes first, about the changes. If there were few changes, you may find yourself simply restating your original opinion. But there are almost always changes!! Then your review becomes two things… one, did I like the changes, why and why not; two, how did the changes reshape the overall story and is it so new and different, that I am now reviewing something different altogether? It can be tricky. If you really loved the book, too many changes can offend and then you have a hard time giving the ‘new’ story a fair shake. Here we go…
The on-screen version of One Day, was the most accurate I have ever seen. There were some omissions, but for the most part it seemed they were left out only to save time and space. There is a certain something ‘missing’ when you see a movie that you’ve already essentially seen in your mind’s eye. You don’t gasp at the surprising moments, because you aren’t surprised. That anticipation is missing, but when you enjoy the book, this sacrifice is understood. My fellow movie goers were sufficiently shocked and entertained at the appropriate moments. 
I recommend the book and the movie, but if you don’t like doing both, you won’t be disappointed in one without the other.

The Marriage Pact

Anyone who loves Julia Roberts like I do, can probably give us a play by play of those opening few scenes of My Best Friend's Wedding, when Julianne nervously contemplates the possibility of Micheal trying to collect on a twenty year old promise. Laughable right? But most things in romance movies are dreamt up from some kernel of reality, aren't they?

I think they are.

I've heard of the marriage pact. How it starts can vary. Maybe a boy and girl have never even experienced love, sitting in a tree house, wondering if they'll end up like their quarreling parents. They get along great, so a brilliant plan is born. Or it happens later, after the fiftieth broken heart. In desperation they search for something that would atleast guarantee a happy ending, a light at the end of the tunnel. This is when it would seem it's a little more complicated. If you know love, would you really contemplate marrying someone, you didn't love, lust after, long for? So are you suggesting settling down with a friend when all hope is lost, OR do you actually have feelings for that friend you have never explored or admitted??

I know this may sound all hypothetical and crazy, but I have heard of marriage pacts between more than a few people. Being single again, I ran across a book with the same name and it got me thinking. I searched my Kindle a little more and found there were actually several ficticious, although believable stories or some variations of the convenient covenants. So, I decided to read them.

Coming soon, reviews of;
A Thousand Roses, by Numi Ash

The Marriage Pact, by M.J. Pullen

One Day, David Nicholls (also made into a movie, in theatres 8/19/11)

...followed by more discussion and maybe, I'll share my own story of a marriage pact. :)

Me? Falling For the E-Book?

I don't remember the class, the instructor, or the subject matter, but I heard once that a 10% return is a reasonable expectation when marketing a product. If you made 100 cold calls, 10 would bite...or something like that.

I've been investigating the idea of marketing my books online only, cut out queries and pitches, submissions and reading fees. The DIY of publishing. I had long abandoned this idea, preferring traditional publishing, until I read some recent stories in the New York Times and Salon.com. Of course few in the world of writing haven't heard about the 'million' made by selling a million e-books. But I also read about bookstores now charging admission to book signings and author meet and greets, because business is so bad and they need the money. They blame this, for the most part, on the e-book.

I'm rethinking everything.

There are on average 62.4 million avid book readers in the United States. Mind you, e-books can be purchased from anywhere in the world, with one click, but I'm thinking small. Let's cut that in half to be even more modest. Then taking my ten percent, since the other ninety may have no interest in my genre, style or story... 3.12 million dollars, if I sold an e-book for a buck.

Coming soon, to a Kindle near you....

Abusing Books & Writing In Bed

This morning I lay in my bed, pondering life's losses, thinking I needed to be writing. I've been trying to write for a greeting card company and they recommend speaking from the heart, as if you were writing to someone you cared about. Something came to me, and as usual I had too much written in my head when it occurred to me I would never remember it all. I rolled over to my nightstand, where there is a cup of pens, but no paper. What kind of writer am I? No paper? The kind with a laptop downstairs I suppose, but there was a reason I was still in bed and I wasn't ready to abandon it. Next to the pens and picture frame and nail polish, was the book I was reading before bed; Trading Up, by Candace Bushnell. Yes, I do dream of Central Park and the MOMA, who doesn't?

Anyway, I thought of writing my mind's scribbles in those two or three blank pages that every book has and immediately remembered one of my closest friends critiquing a book of mine a long time ago. Maybe it was Two Sides of Wilde? The character, Amelia Hiller, (yes, it was Wilde)who owned a bookstore, had folded over the corner in a page of her book, to mark it, as she got up to do something or other. My friend, a writer, had scolded me, insisting "no true book lover would ever dog ear a page like that." It made me sad as I considered myself a 'true' book lover and I dog ear all the time, or at least I did. My shame has since caused me to collect bookmarks.

I always thought the more rough a book looked, the more loved it had been. I mean what are headers and margins for anyway? I imagined dog ears and notes in the margins and God forbid coffee stained pages! That's a book that's been around, shared...read. I know, a first edition of Wuthering Heights is a different story, but we live in the day of mass publication and paperback.

So I did it. I wrote my greeting card snippet before the title page of Trading Up. I wonder if my friend, or Candace, or Carrie would approve? :)


p.s.

I wrote half of this blog in my phone, before finally rummaging around the room to find a tiny notebook. At least I didn't have to go downstairs. When I write with one ear on the mattress, I can hear my penstrokes and nothing else.

Ugh.

I'm blogging about blogger, because I'm grumpy.

When I find a blog on blogger that I like, via google or some other miracle, I am just a nameless shmo and the 'sign in' button laughs at me. The 'follow' button is AWOL. Once I sign in, that blog I wanted to follow, is gone.

I also cannot search for blogs, by topic, author, or any other logical means. If I click 'next blog' for fun, I find a blog in Japanese on how to raise goats. Clearly not a TIVO.

If I go back, I am again in stranger status, I log in, the blog is gone. Ugh.

Did I mention I am grumpy?

I know... how is it that I DO have blogs that I am currently following? Well sometimes it works better. Sometimes? No. Computers and internet are absolutes. There are no emotions, there are not supposed to be maybes. Black and white!!! If I wanted maybe and sometimes I would go stand in front of the refrigerator.

Why Do Teenagers Have Babies?

A friend recently forwarded me an article from www.alternet.org, "Why Do We Shame Teen Moms?"

It read the typical statistics, scare tactics that have been less than successful at moving teenager girls to postpone motherhood. It included some mention of the high school senior that faked a pregnancy as a social experiment at her school, documenting how her peers responded to her predicament.

My friend forwarded the article to me, because I was pregnant at seventeen, seventeen years ago. She wanted me to weigh in. So here I go.

The fact is, I believe most teenage girls who get pregnant, want to. It doesn't matter if they have access to birth control, church, etc... they are missing something so they get it. The sexual irresponsibility is a choice. The fact that all of these girls have such a void is what should be addressed. Especially since, as much as I love my daughter, she did not fill the void... so then I am a young mother, without a supportive family and still with the void!

I will say this once, I am not talking about every teen mother under the sun. There, I said it.

When I see a girl who has found out she is pregnant, she is worried about her boyfriend, her parents, money. Rarely isn she really upset about the baby! Yes, there are abortions and yes there are true accidents. I just do not think they are the norm.

Birth control is easy to get! Condoms are easy to get! Boys are usually never wanting a baby, subconscious or otherwise, so they will find the money, etc. Yet the babies keep coming.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, my best friend was pregnant with her second son. We were smart girls from middle class families. We had blind, strict parents who had no idea who we were. We were also pregnant by the same boy. We wanted those babies.

Now that I am thirty-five, I of course have a lifetime of knowledge and I can look at things differently. I still would never see any pregnancy as a bad thing. I am pro-life. Every baby is a miracle...yada yada. My daughter is seventeen, she has had sex, but I don't necessarily consider her 'active' and I don't encourage it, but I am realistic. She has condoms. I have found them in her room more than once. Despite my opinion on the sex and despite the fact that I love babies. She has condoms.

That is awesome. Somewhere inside, she is not trying to fill a void.

So my point is that teen pregnancy is not the problem. Pregnancy is the result of a problem that is already there.

I know there will be some people who disagree with me. This is ok. Just my opinion. :)

I Try ~ After the Banana

After my banana hair fiasco, I had an idea. I've decided to include a series in my blog, every week or so, entitled "I Try."

It's pretty self explanatory, but I'll explain it anyway. :)

Ever week I will try something; something I read in a magazine, something suggested by a follower, something I hear in line at the grocery store... you get the idea.

I like to think of it as a Mythbusters for women! Topics may include, recipes, skin care, household ideas, book reviews, new product trials, who knows!

I'm hoping we have some fun and we learn a little.

When I wonder about something, will it work, is it true? I try.~

Going Bananas!~

I read in a popular women's magazine, a recipe for homemade conditioning treatment for your hair, supposed to leave it shiny and wonderful, etc.

I have long thick hair which is near and dear to me, always looking for ways to take care of it on a budget.

The recipe was sooooo simple!

1 banana
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp honey

All three common items to find in my kitchen, so I was excited!

I did some more research and found that even Dr.Oz recommends the fruity mask, siting elasticity, shine, nourishment! All good things!

The instructions simply stated, mix until creamy, thoroughly saturate hair, cover with saran wrap for an hour, rinse well.

It didn't say anything about whether your hair should be clean or dirty, wet or dry, so I asked a cosmetology friend of mine and she confirmed my assumption that it is supposed to be 'conditioning' so put on shampooed, damp hair, then rinse as instructed. Great! Easy right??! :/

All went well, until the 'rinse.' Banana is not exactly a fan of the exit.

I mixed the ingredients, a lot! It was very creamy, the consistency of shampoo! I rinsed as instructed, but seriously, there was still a lot of banana! So I rinsed some more... and some more.... still Chiquita!

I finally took an entire shower, shampooed and all. When I took the towel off my head, I could still see banana!! I combed, I brushed, I washed and rinsed some more. Ugh.

So now that my hair was washed twice after the banana mask, I styled the next morning as usual. I do not notice any abundance of shine or anything else impressive, but maybe I washed the improvements away??!!

Yes, there is still some banana in my hair. I don't recommend. :(

Right Brainiac!

Just thought I would pass on some fun opportunities to budding photographers, artists, writers and anyone with a creative niche.

Hallmark.com accepts greeting card submissions every month. Prizes from $250-$500!

GlimmerTrain.com accepts short story submissions for their quarterly publication, every month, stories chosen, pays $700. No entry fee!

Deadlines are coming for Nimrod and Writer's Digest annual competitions.

LOCALLY~ Independence Museum will be holding the annual Verdigris Art Exhibit in April. Entry fees are very low and it's a great display of local talent!

Blue Mountain Publications accepts poetry submissions for their line of greeting cards, every month, free.

If anyone knows anymore, please share! :)

Neodesha Native ~ Grimes Poznik

In between Tulsa, Oklahoma and Wichita, Kansas; just north of the Wilson and Montgomery County lines, lies Neodesha. A small town of around 3000, Neodesha is too small for many. But we can't choose where we are born.

In 1964, it was even smaller. That was the year Grimes Poznik, son to the only Jewish family in Neodesha, graduated high school and left his small but sure beginnings to set out for Cornell College and then, the world!

Over the decades to follow, Grimes took on his authentic Russian name of Poznikov, and would be described as a radical, an artist, a hero and crazy. I first found him in an unlikely place; Neodesha, Kansas. I found, that is, two of his yearbooks from the 7th and 9th grades, his name and address barely legible inside one of the front covers.

I still had no idea who Grimes Poznikov was. His books were actually not the only ones I purchased at the biggest flea market on Main Street. It's been a hobby of mine to pick up identifiable yearbooks, photographs and class rings, for research and useless curiosity. I Googled his name and sixty years of entertaining, enlightening and challenging his world, unfolded on my computer screen.

Grimes was a Bluestreak, as all kids in Neodesha still are. His yearbooks are from 1959 and 1961, when the seventh through twelfth grades were still attending in one building. The pages are decorated with signatures and stories, well wishers who already recognized Grimes' light. He is easy to recognize with his striking features in class and band photos.

Classmates describe Poznik as an oddball, ornery and sweet.

An English teacher recalls his "zany themes." None more zany than the theme he would follow in his future.

An upperclassman writes that she enjoyed babysitting him.

My research would find stories of Grimes' experiences in the San Francisco Bay area, where he performed on the streets of The Fisherman's Wharf and Ghirardelli Square as The Automatic Human Jukebox, with his trumpet, personality and a painted refrigerator box. Staff writer Kevin Fagan of The San Francisco Chronicle told of his elementary teaching, his protests for peace and his homelessness. Cornell alumni Mike Conklin wrote in the Chicago Tribune that Grimes "was a special talent, and we felt lucky to have him in our midst."

It was in the San Diego Union Tribune, where I found his obituary. Dead at 59, of alcohol poisoning. Survived by a sister and brothers, his ashes held by the San Francisco medical examiner, awaiting payment of expenses. He is said to have suffered from mental illness and addiction. He reminds me of so many stories of insanity mirroring genius.

Grimes' sister Jenny still lives in Kansas. She was quoted saying "He did a lot of things for a lot of people. He fought a lot of battles in his own way. He could do anything."

Real Problems

The other night I was listening, as a man told some mutual friends his sad story.

His fiancé had broken up with him, well, taken a break really. But he had moved out, to stay with his parents for the time being. She had cited, as her reason, his recent loss of a job. There were cutbacks, he hadn’t been fired on bad terms or anything. We spent the beginning of our evening trying to cheer him up and I heard bits and pieces along the way. She claimed her need for stability. She gave back the ring. She was thinking about it. He was devastated.

Part joke and part serious, my girlfriend and I stopped at a table of women on our way to the ladies room. We pointed out the sad man and said he was a great guy and a lot of fun if anyone wanted to meet him. I kid you not, in unison, they all said “does he have a job?”

For an evening? For a few laughs? Is a job really necessary? Is that all a man is anymore?

When we returned to the table, sad man was replaced by sad me. I told the table what we’d witnessed and the men nodded their heads in agreement and then they said, “they want someone to take care of them.” In unison! This didn’t shock them at all.

So, fiancé left her man. A man she was going to marry. Because he lost his job. Missy, let me tell you about some real problems.

Sometimes your man is working that all important job, falls and is permanently paralyzed. He won’t hug or hold you ever again.
Sometimes you have a heart attack and your man has to sit by your bed and feed you supper.
Sometimes your man is an alcoholic and an addict and beats you black and blue for reminding him.
Sometimes your child is born brain damaged. He never leaves home. He always needs both of you.
Sometimes you get that phone call that your mother has passed away.
Sometimes your daughter is in an accident and twenty minutes later you say goodbye to a helicopter with her in it.

Some people have real problems. Permanent problems that cannot be fixed.

Jobs are easier to come by than a good partner.

What Makes A Widow?

I know you're already thinking, what a question!? Read on...

I have a wonderful friend, more than one actually, whose time is spent reading, reviewing, etc. She reads books, the New York Times and sends me anything of interest. It's like my own little filter!! I love it. She recently sent me a few reviews on Joyce Carol Oates' memoir, A Widow's Story. I've requested it at my library, I haven't read it, this is not a review.

By all accounts, jacket included, this was a moving saga about the desperation and strife of a woman having lost her 45-year companion. Among the reviews I was reading, came a pretty sharp remark from another reader. It stated,
"If she remarried eleven months later, she doesn't know grief!"

The blog was born.

When a person remarries soon after a death, or even a divorce... are they discrediting the previous union? Does it appear they loved the previous partner any less?

I can't decide. I am personally an 'all in' kind of girl. I couldn't breathe after my divorce, so I can't imagine being a widow. I can't imagine getting dressed, or going out or dating by any means, for a long time. I can imagine lines on my face from lying on the grass at the cemetery and having to be forcibly removed by my family and friends.

What about 45 years of companionship? Perhaps one knows that they will never replace that, that having someone else to just spend time, is ok?

Perhaps none of this applies, as she is one woman, with one story and hers is hers alone. She happened to meet someone quickly, they happened to find something in one another, something they needed.

Is there a standard of grief, of time, that applies to everyone?

7 Days

If you ever want to try something, a life change, but you're not sure... try it for 7 days. If it's excrutiating, you'll know what you're up against, but what if it isn't. You might be worrying and doubting your resolve for nothing.

7 DAYS

Seven Days

Four changes, times seven days. Just an experiment.

I became a vegetarian on January 1, 2011, which thus far has been a great experience. Very little going without, with lots of new things introduced into my daily diet. So now that I am comfortable in my new meat-free skin, I need to step it up a little, thanks to mother nature and old man Winter. They are quite a couple!

Four changes; no salt, no butter, no caffeine & more water.
Seven days from today, Wednesday to Wednesday.

(1)Wednesday
Food:
Chocolate chip cookie (I know, but it was early, before I decided to start this. It could have been worse!)
One fried egg with asparagus and mushrooms
Coffee (ok, I haven’t purchased decaf yet, so day one is tainted.)

Creamy Garlic shells
Garlic bread (no butter!!)

(Dinner at Brandon’s)
Spinach/Mushroom Quesadilla (taco size)
Spanish rice

1c smoothie

Zero exercise (s)

(2)Thursday
Oatmeal, w/ cranberries, brown sugar & Brummel & Brown
**Brummel & Brown is a butter-like yogurt, low fat & calorie, zero cholesterol. This is the only butter we use period, but I am still thinking of it as butter and using very little, none when possible.

Coffee

Fettucine Alfredo w/Asparagus

Banana

6 cc cookies, Ugh! Big glass of water

(3)Friday Cookies?
Coffee (Decaf from here on out)
Egg white omelette (spinach, asparagus, cheese, calamata olives)

Dry cereal

Grilled Cheese

Soup

(4)Saturday
Omelette, spinach, olive, sun dried tomatoes, Mushrooms
Coffee

Rice & broccoli

Battered eggplant, rotini, bread
Wine

(5) Sunday
Coffee

Drunk Mushroom Sandwich

Peyton ‘Chopped’ penne pasta with squash

Sm peanut butter milkshake

(6) Monday
Coffee
Fried egg on Pumpernickel

Cherilyn Omelette

Drunk Mushroom Sandwich

*Carb Coma!* Ugh! I deserve no dinner. **Butter**

Diet Lasagna Meal (no meat)
Vegetarian Chili


(7) Tuesday
Coffee & Oatmeal

French Fries & Mashed Potatoes(picking off kids’ plates)

Taco Bell B/C burrito with sour cream

Rice Noodles and veggies

Bowl of frosted flakes

Final Weight, Morning after Day 7
So, complete with cookies and cereal, Taco Bell and no exercise… didn’t do great on the water… but I drink a lot of coffee.
5 pounds lost in 1 week. Not too shabby.

Did I get headaches from the Coffee? One, first day, none since.
Did I miss salt, butter, etc.? Well, yes, butter, so I cheated, on Carb Coma day, with Brummel&Brown. Still Lost.
Do I feel Great? Cleansed? Healthier? I feel good, like I lost 5 pounds. Nothing more.

Could the five pounds have come off, for any other reason? Well, maybe, but what would that reason be? I will go another week, without a log, just without the fab four and see what happens!

P.S. I am decaf for good in my kitchen. Why not?

The Ex Text

When I hear the squeak of my ex-husband's voice on the phone, I am usually faced with either nausea or the sudden urge to hang up. There is a squeak. Something I hadn't noticed when I thought he was all that and bag of rice cakes.

I say this from distant memory, since we rarely speak. God bless the text message. Occasionally, if we have a whole lot to say, we might pen an email, but I don't hear his voice and don't see his face. The point, we don't fight much, if ever.

The most heated discussions we have had... you guessed it, text! This goes way back, beginning with the mistress texting me some mothering advice. Delete. And I was back to my movie of the week.

So... has texting, emailing, technology in general made it easier to survive a break up? Divorce? Custody arrangements?

There is so much emotion tied into all of these things. Someone yells, you yell back, maybe a plate gets thrown. But I rarely throw my phone. He also doesn't get to see my reaction, I can think, breathe, take a moment. Or I can do nothing. Sometimes nothing is just what a bad situation needs. Delete.

This goes both ways.

So am I emotionally stunted? Am I incapable of one on one exchange? Maybe. No. But this works and the other, has been failing people for years.

Bonus! When we do argue, via text, there is no yelling for our child to hear and maybe, just maybe, we cut out some of the useless insults, since lets face it, it's exhausting on the thumbs and you have a limit on characters! :)

What if we all had a limit on characters? 5000 a day? Think of the hot air we would save, the lectures we wouldn't sit through. Everyone would get to the point! Words would be valuable again!

When you play poker, the best players are void of emotion. Texting removes, for the most part, the emotion from conversation. We can smile and LOL, and exclamation point all day, but that 'in your face,' say-something-we'll-regret, aspect, is gone.

Video phones are out there. Web cams and skype are fairly easy to maneuver. No thanks!~

A Colorful Jacket

I had to write my own bio. There is nothing worse. Someday I will have someone to do these things for me.

Once finished, I thought, well it makes sense that I add this extended about me to my blog.

**
Cherilyn David is a 35-year-old writer and artist living in Southeast Kansas with her teenage daughter. When she isn't writing, her interests include painting, genealogy research, photography and home décor. Cherilyn volunteers at the local library and spends most of her time being a mother and developing her gifts. Cherilyn has a child with special needs and is always learning and becoming more aware of the trials that go along with that journey.

Cherilyn grew up in San Diego and started writing as soon as she learned how her feelings and experiences could be translated onto paper. She is almost finished with a cookbook for couples, slated for May 2011 release, has completed a romance/drama Trying To Love You, has started a long term plan on her memoir By Any Other Name and is self publishing You Come From A Long Line of Strong Women, for her daughter. Cherilyn is the author of Two Sides of Wilde, available at Amazon.com and a memoir, My Daughter Still.

Cherilyn has one self titled blog www.cherilyndavidblog.blogspot.com and participates in another, www.makinghomeworkblog.blogspot.com , dedicated to mothers who work from home. All of Cherilyn's endeavors can be explored at www.cherilyndavid.com .

Cherilyn also submits poetry, articles on various topics to online and traditional magazines and has tried her hand at song writing and a Halloween children's book, Creepy Christina; completed and currently in the illustration stages.

Cherilyn has started and stopped her education over the years, completing more than two years of college as an English Major. She is finally resigned to being a student of life and tries not to worry about the lack of crisp certificates on her walls. There are instead- photographs, mirrors and wine!
**

Christmas For Free

Christmas 2011, I wil not be spending any money. You heard me right.

I LOVE Christmas. The decorating, the spirit, the shopping, the wrapping, the air. I love it from about mid November to mid January, really. But let's face it; the commercialism, the money... it's ridiculous.

I don't come from one of those families that has cleverly adopted the 'gift exchange.' Nope. We buy for everyone. We enjoy gluttony and debt. Apparently.

All kidding aside, we enjoy the merriment and opening presents, food, etc. I have no desire to take away from that. One year, maybe ten years ago, I handmade all my presents. Not free, but cheap and of course the personal touch. So that's been done, and it's hard to figure taste, decor, etc.

But I decided, this year, no money.

So here are the rules. I CAN selln things or make money using FREE resources and that money CAN be spent, on supplies, etc. But no shopping, no spending.

I can't give away all my secrets, but it is well in the works. I do a little everyday and my gifts promise to be personal and something not to be soon forgotten.

We shall see. :)

Getting Enough Oxygen

My daughter must have been tiptoeing towards adolescence when I started telling her the oxygen mask story. She is seventeen now, and I only have to repeat it twice a year or so. But the other day, I was reminded, during a meeting of my peers, as I tried to share and explain the humble selfishness I try to practice in my day to day. When you ride on an airplane, you are always instructed on the use of your oxygen masks, dropping from the ceiling, elastic band wrapped round your head, you know the drill. When I was a young mother, I wasn't alone in my protests, while discussing later the flight attendant insistance that parents place oxygen masks on themselves before their children. The instinct of a parent is to protect our children, even if it means risking our own well being. Of course we all know, we need to be breathing, in order to take care of a child nearby.

As children grow into young adults, boundaries are tested. Before long, the oxygen mask scenario was a staple in most of my lectures about my needing a break, time to myself, a life! I would always tell her, "I have to put the oxygen mask on myself first!" She claimed to get it, sometimes.

As it turns out, my daughter is not the only person that I find myself enlightening about my need for oxygen and theirs as well. The most recent was a meeting of women, arms full and out of breath, one with a child in tow, until finally all were gathered at a large table, having just barely made time for what is an indulgence for all of us. We apologize to husbands, we arrive late and leave early. Did I say we? Maybe not me. This is some of my oxygen. I need it and I take it.

The better I breathe, the longer I'll live. The more I grow, the wider my wing span. So I teasingly harass my friends and encourage them to demand more of their own time, their own day! I am a single mother, I try to make a living from home, I volunteer. I am available when friends and family call. But I put me first. I say no. I slip up now and then and take on a little too much, but I can usually undo that pretty quickly.

Get a manicure. Take a bath. Go have coffee and spend hours reading a magazine. Get a sitter. Go to the movies. Order pizza. Buy a blouse that costs too much. Sleep in. Make time. You will smile brighter and laugh louder. You will love life and the people in it.

Coincidentally, I once compared affection to oxygen. We need it. It helps us thrive.
Breathe.

I Could Never Be A Reporter...

I love taking pictures and I love to write. It’s the documentation I’m a slave to. The minutes of our lives are flying by, constantly, at a frightening pace and we document so little, when you think about it. So I am forever trying, to capture memories, thoughts, moments forever, for myself, my child, my family, friends and clients. On paper, I would make a great reporter.

I have always had a thing for super heroes, Superman in particular, so you would think Lois Lane would be an identity I would wear well, improve upon even, with modern fashion and social networking. Report? Yes. I do a lot of that. But the pictures? Oh… them.

I would be great for the Labor Day Cookie Kick Off at the local grocery store, the six-toed puppy born at the pound and all the Christmas lights and snow drifts you can handle. But, in your face, starving babies, mangled cars and pissed off celebrities? Can you say high resolution zoom? I just can’t get in people’s faces, in their private moments, in their lives; unless they ask me to.

So, I could never be a reporter. Not the kind I would want to be anyway. I just have a hard time being, rude. Ok, enough with the laughing! You know what I mean.

I would be an excellent Barbara Walters, sitting in a lovely Ikea-inspired, interview environment, complete with fresh Birds of Paradise and eclectic coffee mugs. That has me written all over it. Then we could dish and I could ask all kinds of sordid questions. Of course my camera man could catch all the tears and tension.

I am very comfortable with nude subjects, boudoir sessions, couples in created private moments, because I’ve been invited.

It’s all about my own embarrassment and pride I guess. I say this, because I also think I would make an excellent private investigator. I can take the nosey pictures, if no one knows I am. Shameful, I know. I am no Lois Lane.

The Great Dating Bluff...

It's not just men this year. Valentine's Day has taken quite a beating. Social networking sites are buzzing with the anti-Valentine, the Single Person's Awareness and other substitutions, alternative suggestions for February 14th. Poor, poor Valentine. :(

I am a lover of love. I am one of those annoying people that screams it from the roof tops, whether I am spoken for or not. There is always love to give, to a variety of people around us! For me, Valentine's is second only to my daughter's birthday and the holy grail, Christmas!! (Don't get me started.)

This year, I have a significant other, after a couple years without. I have spent just as many years 'taken' as I have single in my adult life, so I am no stranger, but I definitely prefer the latter, no surprise. My guy is sweet and considerate and a 'keeper.' Or so I thought.

About a week ago, maybe a little longer, it started. The talk about tight budgets and empty pockets, Valentine's isn't a real holiday. What? My internal voice has been on overdrive since then... along with my inbox, once I relayed that conversation to my best friend. It's not that I was expecting a parade or anything, but the man, the grinch, the anti-romantic that was talking that day, just wasn't him. We have only been dating for a few months, so it begged the question. Is this the real him? I thought that I was talking to a stranger... or maybe I had been dating one??

So, he WAS bluffing... which I guess could have been predicted, by everyone but me... and we all breathe a collective sigh of relief. Keeper status intact. But that isn't the story. Do women set themselves up for disappointment? Do we set the bar too high? Is the pressure too great? (Before everyone comments that it's not just women, I am only a women and mostly hang out with women. Theirs are the only opinions I feel qualified to comment on. Thx!)

We complain that men are great at first and then they slowly decline. But is this a monster we have created? Do they walk around with their guts sucked in, saving their lunch money and shining their shoes... all so we can yell at them later for getting fat, poor and sloppy?

Let's face it, dating is a mess, a war zone and you better have a full canteen and an extra pair of socks if you plan to survive it! Women are excellent at knowing what they don't want, where they've crashed and burned in the past, but when they get a little piece of happiness, they drag out the Cosmos and NetFlix Sex in the City and then maybe reality gets a little lost in the walk in!?

So what's the bluff? Men are athletes, they're about performance and results. We want the best and they aim to please, but no one can sprint the whole way. I am learning a lot in my old age (35,) that I wish I knew years ago. I guess that's the only way, but I am trying anyway, to educate the masses. So... I got a dozen red roses for Valentine's, candy, card and bath goodies. Home run. But most days, doesn't a good guy just needs to step up to the plate and swing, in jeans and a sweatshirt, at the ballfield down the street?

I say yes.

You know, the battles and wars; sprints and marathons, you get the idea. Superman was great, but he never did get the girl. :)

Vegetarian... It's No Big Deal! ~

I grew up in a steakhouse. I mean that. My mother was a waitress, my grandmother was a waitress and eventually, I was a hostess. I had birthday parties there, I did my homework at a back table, I rolled silverware and I drank more Shirley Temples than milk.

We at the fat. Our dogs expected t-bones every night. I grew up in a steakhouse.

Last October I turned thirty-five and like every woman I know, I am always thinking about losing weight, exercising, getting back to my high school size once and for all. I'm not losing the battle, but I'm not winning either.

I have had friends in the past who were vegetarian and a cousin, who is more like a sister , has been recruiting for years. They slay me. Or they did. This year, 2011, just over five weeks ago, I went Vegetarian. You know, resolutions and all.

Yes, my boyfriend happens to be a vegetarian and we eat together, cook together, so it seemed like it was time. A vegetarian man? I know. He even drives a truck and watches football. Who knew?

So I'm five weeks in, I feel great, I'm losing weight. Despite the cheese and pasta and tortillas and did I mention cheese, oh, yes... and plenty of vegetables! I'm learning about awesome vegetables I never knew existed! I'm losing weight. Even after a blizzard has kept me from the track.

Most importantly, no cravings, no regrets, I haven't once stared longingly at a cheeseburger. Our kids eat meat, our kitchens aren't empty. We eat out. I've never felt the tug. Even I'm surprised. In the beginning it was more of an effort, not out of hunger, but out of habit. What to buy, where to shop, being wary of soups and mixes with beef or chicken base. But that didn't take long. I am eating things now I would have never touched when "dieting" and loving the things I've missed. What I don't miss... is the meat. :)

My Daughter Asked Me To Stop Being Her Mom...

Today I heard one I haven't heard before. That doesn't happen often!

My teenage daughter and I, were having a typical 'discussion.' Typical meaning trying, stressful & heated. We aren't the worst mother-daughter relationship, but we have our moments.

My daughter has a brain injury, which effects her every thought, act and decision.
She forgets easily, so things I explain to her today, she wants another explanation of tomorrow. This isn't true for every single issue, but things that are especially important to her, tend to find their way back to the table.

My daughter will most likely not leave home, possibly never have gainful employment, possibly not go to college. We aren't sure of a lot of things, but I try to be realistic. I know that I myself have not yet come to terms with these things, but there's no time for that. It takes all I have to help her to even consider them.

Tonight, she was questioning me, again, about her internet and phone privileges, which have recently been tapered back quite a bit. The sad truth is, she did nothing wrong, but she lacks the judgment to protect herself against outside influences. As a parent, controlling the internet is almost impossible. She has internet on her phone, Wii, DS and laptop. It's insane.

In this conversation, in tears, she said "I need you to stop being my mom for a minute and..." She never completed the sentence, because I said. "Impossible. That will never happen." Being her mother is more a part of me, than any other part of me. It would be like removing my blood or my skin, for a minute. I tried to explain to her that every thought in my head, is processed with the mind of a mother, her mother. It's the only identity I have, I can't turn it off and on. I am so glad.

My daughter wasn't thrilled and I'm sure we will revisit the topic in general, but I hope I at least made her understand that being her mom isn't a hobby.

I used to hate repeating myself. Things used to be different. But the mom never changes. Now we have the same conversations over and over. We have a lot of rules and notes and charts and lists. She has family, friends, doctors, therapists and just one Mom. ~

The 'To Do' List, not just for groceries anymore...

Today I am calling attention and praise to the "To Do" list! I don't mean a few scribbles on a slip of paper, to later be discarded, lost, forgotten. You might be surprised to know that a list of things to do can benefit everyday and every task!

The list itself is more than a reminder! The completed list, with items crossed off, check marks along the side, is a badge of honor; a trophy of your accomplishments! When my day is done and I can reference that list, I know my day was not wasted. I can remind myself what I did and what I may need to do the next day.

Maybe your list will be per week, not day.
Maybe your list is full of fun, spontaneous things; not necessarily errands & tasks.
Maybe once in awhile you have no list and you do nothing. This is much easier to take when you have several lists from days gone by to justify a well deserved free day!

Start today. Using a spiral pad, make your to do list. You may want to date it, or not. At the end of your day, just turn the page, rather than throwing the list away. A fresh page awaits for a fresh day.

Months from now, these aren't just lists. They are a diary of the things you have done; a reminder of when and where things have been accomplished, complete with curious doodles and forgotten phone messages.

Ultimately, a to do list keeps me organized and on track, which means I accomplish more and therefore have more time for myself, my child and a new list, of things, to do!

Cherilyn David Valentine Special!!

If you know Cherilyn, you know I have been having a love affair with LOVE, forever!!!

Love is always right, love is always good and love DOES conquer all!! Being that I am in a little bit of a warm and fuzzy state, it's time to spread a little love to my clintele...

Cherilyn David Valentine's Special...

Love Bird Sitting, normally $75
2 people, one hour, unlimited clothing and location, within the hour...

$40 through February 10th... GUARANTEED Valentine's Day delivery!!


Soft & Sexy Boudoir for One, normally $50

1 person, one hour, in studio, unlimited changes

$30 through February 10th... GUARANTEED Valentine Day delivery!!
**Meet with Cherilyn for a free consultation!! Check out boudoir samples and chat about making your boudoir session comfortable and all about you!! :)

Do these specials not quite meet your needs?! Well Cherilyn can! Call or email... check out www.cherilyndavid.com

620~779~0252
cherilyn@cherilyndavid.com

Oh, Winter!

I love Winter, really I do....
I love the snow, I love the clothes, I love watching rain and wind out the window... from my warm sofa of course, coffee in hand.

Why is this year different?
I know why.

I have done the picture taking... loved it.
I've watched out the window, I've modeled the cute boots, scarves, gloves and one delicious knit hat that simply had to have a blue peacoat to match!

I'm a mobile girl, I jump up and go, but not this year. Since my daughter was in a car accident, cars scare me a little. My car, your car, the cars on the curb. Ugh! I whine repeatedly on facebook while my friends tell stories of slippery bridges and bald tires. So I stay home. Oh, Winter.

My significant other, lives a town away. Ugh.
He is also sick, from the Winter, so I am too.

Perhaps I could fall in love with Spring.