Cross Your T's

I'm With You ...

2011-10-04T12:36:00.000-07:00

Have you heard this song? "I'm With You", sung by Nichole Nordeman and Amy Grant is one of those songs that just latch right on to your heart. Based on the Bible story of Ruth and Naomi, it is a beautiful combination of lyrics, music, and pacing.

Ruth happens to be one of my favorite books in the Bible. First, it's so short (4 chapters!), I can actually say I've read it from start to finish :-); and second, it depicts the story of two strong, independent, brave women who have lost everything (and, yes, one of them becomes very bitter for a while as a result), but work together to put the pieces of their lives back together in the face of great adversity.

It is the story of hope and trusting in the support of family and friends.

And, isn't that what we all strive for ... to be hopeful in the face of challenges, big and small? To be a supportive friend and family member? And, to know we have family and friends that we can rely on when we need it?

Kairos...

2011-08-23T16:19:00.000-07:00

Have you heard of Amy Krouse Rosenthal? She's one of my writing heroes ... she writes brilliant, unique children's book and entertaining adult books, AND has an inspiring and uplifting blog .... Mission Amy KR. Her most recent Thursday Thingy blog was titled, "Kairos and Chronos" (click on Mission Amy KR and it will connect you). When I first saw it, my mind immediately went to my work in Human Resources and Payroll. KRONOS was our timekeeping system for non-exempt employees ... simply because of that, I knew of the word and its Greek origin .... basically meaning 'chronological time'. But what was this 'Kairos'?

As you'll see if you read the post, it is also the Greek word for time ... but very different than Chronos time. Kairos time is special ... literally. It is the time in which something special happens. It's different for every person, depending on what is special to you, and you often don't recognize when you're in the midst of it.

In the blog post, Amy references another writer, and what she wrote - specifically with regard to a child wanting her mother to just stop and look at her - made me catch my breath.

We live in a world where, it seems, it is important to show how busy we are. Someone asks us, "How have you been?" We reply, "Oh, so busy!" Our attention is divided ... we are working, raising children, blogging, Facebooking, e-mailing, texting, trying to meet deadlines, attempting to get to practice on time, and the list goes on.

But, are we experiencing the Kairos version of time? Are we giving our children the Kairos version of time? For me ... sometimes, yes; sometimes, no. It is a great reminder for me personally ... to not just live each day hoping to check all the 'to do' items off my list, but remember to stop and experience all that is beautiful and special in life. So much so, that it becomes a natural part of me. Living the width of each day as much as the length.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait ...

2011-08-02T15:28:00.000-07:00

Waiting. I don't think I'll ever be very good at it. For me, it is one of the hardest parts of the writing profession. Not just waiting for any response ... waiting for a positive response! So, once again, I'm turning to the outdoors for a little lesson in enjoying and appreciating the wait. Granted, my garden provides a much more colorful and gratifying perspective on waiting than my e-mail in-box and mailbox. Daily, there are beautiful berries needing to be monitored for ripeness; tomatoes, corn, peppers, and cukes sprouting from blossoms; and new blooms opening on the hydrangeas. It's easy to see that good things await ... and I'm certain that will be the case for the writing as well.

Summer Inspiration ... Kid Style!

2011-07-14T14:42:00.000-07:00

Every so often, they hop off their bikes and scooters, or take a break from playing basketball or flag football, and impress me with their creative side. Whether it's a city of roadways and parking lots made with just chalk and Hot Wheels; a tea party, complete with miniature utensils; a "special breakfast" served on a doll highchair tray; a bouquet of blooms collected from the ground (or, sometimes, from the plant itself! :-)); or a colorful PlayDoh "cake" ... it's a great reminder to me to keep creating characters and writing stories (and not be afraid of NOT creating perfection on the first try!).

It Was Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

2011-07-12T16:37:00.000-07:00

I'm quite certain I was even more excited than my children that we were going to see the musical, Mary Poppins. They had never heard of Mary Poppins, nor were they familiar with any of the famous songs. Given that the show we attended was on a weeknight and started an hour before their bedtime, I was banking on the hope that it would be an energetic and awe-inspiring performance.

And, oh my, was it ever!

The cast of Mary Poppins is amazingly talented; and the special-effects and 'mechanics' of what's happening on the stage are mind-blowing!! What an incredible production! We were so happy we went ... and, thankfully, our 9-year old son and 5-year old daughter LOVED it and were entertained throughout the entire production (mostly! :-)).

Our favorite moment was the tap dance number, "Step In Time", by Mary Poppins & the Chimney Sweeps ... including Bert walking up the wall and tap-dancing (and singing) on the ceiling! Incredible. It made me want to learn how to tap dance.

The kids have been attempting to sing "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" ever since. Since it's a new word to them, it has been entertaining to hear the variations they come up with. :-)

If you have the chance to go see the Broadway Across America tour of Mary Poppins ... do it! And, enjoy! :-)

Remembering Grandpa ...

2011-07-05T16:48:00.000-07:00

This past weekend would have been the weekend that my little family traveled to my hometown to celebrate my Grandpa Don's July 1st birthday. His daughters, sons-in-law, granddaughters and grandsons and their spouses, and great-grandchildren had traveled from near and far every year since he turned 90 to celebrate his life. He would have been 95 years old this year. We lost him, rather unexpectedly, last September ['For My Grandpa' Post] and have missed him every day since.

This year, we thankfully had another reason to gather and celebrate on this very special weekend ... a reason that would have made my Grandpa Don so very happy. This time, though, the focus of the celebration was a sweet, little 4-month old girl. Grandpa Don never had the joy of meeting his youngest great-grandchild - oh, would he have beamed at the sight of her - but, she was baptized on what would have been his birthday weekend. Watching over us from heaven, I'm certain he was thrilled beyond measure.

When Your Child Gets Published Before You Do...

2011-06-16T16:24:00.000-07:00

My son's third grade 'Young Authors' assignment was to write and illustrate an ABC book. He chose 'Vehicles' as his subject ... one for every letter of the alphabet - from Ambulance to Zamboni!

It was a long two months of researching facts about each of the vehicles and creating the final drawings. Somewhere around Ice Cream Truck, my usually eager illustrator was clearly considering the illustrations to be a cumbersome task; and the idea of typing the words on the computer - originally such an exciting prospect - became dreaded. But, he (and I!) made it, and was thrilled with the end product.

One evening, not long after turning it in, I got a call from his teacher. She loved his book, and wondered if she could buy it for her grandson, a fellow admirer of anything with wheels. I joked with her, "My son's going to be published before I am!"

We created a second copy for her grandson. My son received his very first payment in exchange for his first 'published' book. And - after overhearing my comment to his teacher - he now tells everyone that he published a picture book before his Mom! :-)

Which is just fine with me. I was, after all, one of the people to whom he dedicated the book ... and, really, what more could you ask for?

Awesomeness .... and, How Vas the Vod-ka?

2011-05-31T14:33:00.000-07:00

A HUGE congratulations to my sweet friend and writing club partner, Rachel ... who just finished the first draft of her novel! Such an incredible milestone! She has turned a fabulous idea into a future bestseller, I'm sure of it!

I first met Rachel in Vienna, Austria, of all places. We were exchange students ... she was from Texas; I was from Washington. I have such fun, fond memories of our adventures there. In her honor ... I'm re-posting "How Vas the Vod-ka?" below, which recaps an exhilarating and equally hilarious hike we took together in the Alps.

**********
How Vas the Vod-ka?

One of my favorite memories of my exchange student days in Austria involved a trip to Innsbruck, Austria.

Admittedly, I’d label the majority of Austrian towns as ‘gorgeous and amazing’, but - oh my - is Innsbruck ever cool. It’s situated right in the midst of the Austrian Alps, which makes for great hiking, especially when you’ve been blessed with stunningly beautiful weather.

We visited the Alpenzoo first. Situated 727 meters above sea level and nestled into the mountain, it is the highest zoo in the world. And, as its name would indicate, it is home to animals that originate from the alpine region, showing them in their natural habitat. The Alpenzoo, in and of itself, could be considered a hike for many.

After visiting the zoo, our group split into two and my dear friend, Rachel, and I decided to hike up into the Alps. It was my absolute favorite day in Europe … exhilarating and incredibly beautiful.

Halfway up the mountain, we were joined by Marco from Germany (I couldn't resist snapping a picture of him during one of our hiking breaks ... he's the one on the left, in the bushes!).

We had no clue who he was, but he stayed with us for the remainder of the hike. He seemed nice enough, as did all our fellow-hikers that day. I guess back then crazy stalkers weren’t as prevalent on our minds. I’m still quite certain he was a bit enamored with Rachel!

We made it above the tree line and, after a few moments of sitting and taking in the beautiful view and brilliant blue sky, decided to commence the joint-pounding trek down the mountain!

Towards the end of our descent, we passed another hiker who was headed up the mountain. As he passed, he greeted us and asked, “How vas the vodka?”

You know how you respond when you don’t really know what someone has said, but you still want to reply in a friendly and jovial way? You kind of do a hearty laugh and throw your head back like you ‘get’ the joke or the funny comment even though you haven’t a clue as to what they actually said?

That’s what we did. And, I think we added something like, “Gut … sehr gut!”

We giggled as we tried to figure out what had possessed him to ask us about vodka. I mean, we knew these particular hills were alive with music, but not vodka-drinking hikers.

It wasn’t until a few laughter-filled minutes later, that it dawned on us what he had really asked.

“How was the walk up?”

To this day, Rachel and I still laugh about that story. And, it just goes to show that the hills are alive … with music, yes … but also with fresh air, exhilarating views, and very friendly German-speaking hikers. No vodka required.

Wind ...

2011-04-18T16:31:00.000-07:00

I'm having a little photography fun today, and entering a contest with ...

This week's photo challenge theme is “Wind", and this is one of my all-time favorites ... a windy Easter Egg hunt. I love her serious expression, the wind-blown hair, and the bright colors of the eggs.

A Different Kind of Beach Experience ...

2011-04-12T16:43:00.000-07:00

I've written before about my love-hate relationship with deep water (http://crossyourts.blogspot.com/2010/05/deep-water.html). Add in the fact that - after the Japan tsunami - news in our region focused repeatedly on the fact that our beautiful coast was in the same geological boat as Japan - but less prepared - and I must admit to some lost sleep in the nights leading up to our coastal Spring break vacation.

So much for relaxing.

Instead, my head was spinning with all the possible ways my hubby and I could quickly get the children out of harm's way in the 15-20 minutes before the big wave hit, if an earthquake were to happen.

It's not that I think I have control over the situation ... I know I don't. But - as a mother - I need to at least feel like I have some semblance of control over how our family would respond. As in ... "Kids, if you feel the earth shaking while we're on the beach, don't worry about your toys. Leave them there. Grab Mommy or Daddy's hand and run as fast as you can." I didn't want to freak them out, but I wanted them to be prepared for how to react ... just in case.

So, with that ... we went to the beach. It was cold (thank goodness for extra hot mochas!), but gorgeous. I took lots of deep breaths. I enjoyed myself immensely ... especially once we broke out the baseball, mitts, and our trusty beachwood bat! :-) I even felt some tension slip away.

But ... it was different. That feeling of needing to be on alert and prepared was constantly tucked away in the back of my mind and, sometimes, it was right at the forefront of my thoughts as we drove by signs that read "Tsunami Hazard Zone".

I would never want to deprive my family of experiences because of fear or because of my desire to protect them. The coast is one of our favorite family destinations and always will be. For me, though ... while the ocean has always been awe-inspiring in its beauty; I am now so very awestruck and aware of its destructive power. Maybe that feeling will soften with time. Maybe it won't ... and that's OK. Either way, my choice will be to enjoy the experience, appreciate the beauty, and - knowing that each member of my family is on the same page with how to respond to a 'just in case' situation - trust that all will be well.

{I Heart Faces} Slice of Life Photo Challenge

2011-03-28T10:47:00.000-07:00

I'm having a little photography fun today, and entering a contest with ...

{I Heart Faces} Slice of Life Photo Challenge

This week's contest theme is “Slice of Life”.

A slice of our life is checking on our kids before going to bed each night. And, with our daughter, we never know what we're going to find! Usually, she has surrounded herself with stuffed animals and books and toys, and adorned herself with jewels. We often find things hiding under the blankets as well. On this particular night, she was wearing the Simon Chipmunk glasses she had received at a birthday party earlier in the day. This shot brings a smile to my face and - even though she's sleeping - shares a bit about her "I'll do things my own way" personality!

Little {and Big} Things ...

2011-03-22T15:54:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it's the littlest things that succeed in bringing a smile to your face and making your day out-of-the-ordinary and special.

Like, finding these fluorescent post-its on our bedroom door. Little notes from my 5-year old, learning-to-read-and-write-words daughter. No, they do not match the decor. But, I will let them hang there until the magical stickiness wears off, because they make me happy.

And, walking into our local Starbucks to find this sign! Yes, that is my drink. Yes, it is long. So long, in fact, that they had no room to list my hubby's drink. :-)

Of course, every once in a while, there are the BIG things that make you smile ... like this sweet thing:

My new niece, born last Saturday to my youngest sister. I'll be heading to Missouri in just a couple weeks to meet her. Can't wait.

What little (or big) things are bringing a touch of special to your day?

Sweet Spring Surprise ...

2011-03-17T16:45:00.000-07:00

I've gushed about my neighbors before ... and here is just one more reason. Two of these sweet, little spring treats were delivered to my kids today. How clever and creative is that ... a little Peeps Chick guarding its eggs in a nest made of chocolate-covered noodles! So very thoughtful. Such kind gestures are one of the little things in life that I treasure - whether giving or receiving. They never fail to bring a smile to my face {and guaranteed squeals of delight from the kids!}.

Sun Flare

2011-03-15T17:06:00.000-07:00

This week's 'I Heart Faces' photo challenge is titled 'Sun Flare'. When I read that, I was thrilled ... and immediately went to my two favorite sun flare pictures ... before it dawned on me that neither of them shows a face (one of the main criteria!). Ah well ... I still like them and thought it would be fun to share them despite their not being challenge-worthy!

Both were actually just shot with my Droid phone.

This picture does show a face ... it's just not human! :-) We came upon this dove while we were out on a walk in our neighborhood. I was dumbfounded as to why a dove was wandering our streets. And to capture a dove with those brilliant rays raining down from the sky ... it's as if I planned it that way.

With this next picture ... again, no face. Well, sort of ... I can see the side of my son's face, but it's mostly the back of his head. This was taken in Cannon Beach at sunset. We had just finished dinner and I didn't have my regular camera, so I took a quick shot with my Droid, and loved the way the sun's rays surrounded my son.

Do you have any favorite sun flare photos or memories?

A Glimpse of Spring ...

2011-03-08T16:07:00.000-08:00

I resisted this table at Al's Garden Center in early February (except to take a picture ... how could I not take a picture of all that gorgeous color?!). I just couldn't justify purchasing spring flowers in the winter when the threat of snow still loomed large (well, I could ... but I resisted the justification too!).

But, this past weekend, I had to give in and buy a few primroses. Sure, it did snow just two weeks ago ... but, Spring is now just a couple weeks away. It's totally justifiable.

Don't you think?

Favorite Things ...

2011-03-03T15:25:00.000-08:00

There is a little store in a small beach town on the Oregon Coast that, for the past two years, has displayed beautiful lighted blossoms in their storefront window. All colors of blooms ... vivid white, brilliant orange, stunning red.

Every time we would visit the town, we would walk by that window and I would comment how much I loved those blossoms. Sometimes, I'd stop and run in to check them out up close and peek at the price. But, I never purchased them.

Several months before Christmas, I discovered them at a local gift store in a gorgeous deep burgundy color (that just happened to coordinate well with our living room!).

Not only did my sweet hubby surprise me with them for Christmas (living room - check!); but, on Valentine's Day, as well (woohoo ... a set for the bedroom!).

Now, as the skies darken outside, these beautiful blossoms bring a touch of light, warmth, and charm to the house. Love them!

Have you been surprised recently with something you've been wanting for a long time?

{I Heart Faces} Anything But A Face Photo Challenge

2011-02-28T13:05:00.000-08:00

I'm having a little photography fun today, and entering a contest with ...

This week's contest theme is “Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes … Anything But A Face!”

This was taken at a little friend's birthday party, where the kids got to decorate their own cupcakes {you can imagine the excitement!}. At the time, I was playing around with camera focus, and my hubby encouraged me to get a shot of our son holding his cupcake, with the focus on the sweet treat! I have loved this colorful shot ever since!

Doesn't it make your mouth water?! :-)

Little Projects ...

2011-02-22T13:31:00.000-08:00

Projects, sketches, and papers are always coming home with the kids from various places ... school, Sunday School, daycare, the gym, etc. Sometimes, it feels like we are drowning in little trinkets and half-finished art projects.

Other times, it feels like we've found a special treasure.

My son formed this bowl out of clay in Sunday school, and my daughter made the little heart during a children's choir practice break. They brought them home and each project went its separate way for a few days ... the bowl to dry, the heart to sit on the counter waiting to be 'mended' (two of the beads still need to be ironed back on!).

One evening, my daughter placed her heart in her brother's bowl and declared, "There! That's pretty!", and slid it into a place of prominence on the counter.

I have to agree ... it is pretty, and adds a simple splash of color and charm to the kitchen counter. So, this one will stay on display on the kitchen counter for a while. It makes me smile ... and who doesn't need to begin and end their day with a smile.

I Heart Faces Phone Photo Challenge

2011-02-22T13:30:00.000-08:00

I'm having a little photography fun today, and entering a contest with ...

This week's contest theme is 'Cell Phone', and this is one of my absolute favorite pictures taken with my Droid ... to me it's a picture of absolute joy and fun (and a bit of surprise!). My last words to them before snapping this picture were, "Just don't get wet!" :-)

Valentine Love ...

2011-02-15T14:25:00.000-08:00

Such fun yesterday ... Valentine's parties and kids dressed in red, pink, and white barely able to contain themselves as they peered into their Valentine's treat bags!

Our school's high schoolers sell Val-O-Grams as an annual fundraiser. Parents can write a sweet note to their child that is delivered during the school day, accompanied by a treat, balloon, and/or a song ("So Happy Together" by the high school boys Acappella choir!).

I thought my daughter's preschool classroom was a sea of red hearts, after the high schoolers made their deliveries. But, it was nothing compared to the school day's end. If only I'd had my camera ... kids streaming out of their classrooms to the carpool lines ... the majority holding red heart balloons! What a sight!

My son's class made Abe Lincoln hats to hold their Valentines, and learned a bit of a history lesson along the way ... apparently President Lincoln kept his mail in his hat!

Hope you had a lovely Valentine's Day, filled with smiles.

G. Williker's ...

2011-02-08T18:30:00.000-08:00

Do you remember the charming, boutique bookstore owned by Meg Ryan's character in "You've Got Mail"?

I loved that bookstore. It made me want to own a bookstore. It was charming and welcoming and successful. Well, until Fox Books showed up! :-)

For my birthday, my family took me on a little weekend trip to Hood River, a charming little town nestled in the shadow of Mt. Hood and situated right on the Columbia River. Gorgeous!

The downtown area is bursting with unique shops and hip restaurants ... including our family favorite - G. Williker's Toy Shoppe!

I've never been so taken with a toy shop. Every inch housed something new to look at ... toys we had never seen before at other stores. It was completely enchanting. It made me want to own a toy store.

We decided we needed to schedule a quarterly drive to Hood River, armed with a list of all upcoming birthdays and holidays, to purchase gifts from this hidden gem!

Have you made any fun discoveries lately?!

Beware the Fleas of Italy

2011-01-19T17:30:00.000-08:00

Friday marks my 40th birthday ... and, I must admit that I'm a bit in shock that - in response to the 'What is your age?' question on surveys - the box I'll need to check is in an entirely different decade than before.

Five years ago, my hubby and I each shared what we wanted to do for our 40th birthday. I decided I wanted to celebrate it in Italy. Fast forward five years ... with school and work and extracurricular schedules and a pesky lack of funding for such a trip, it is clear this particular wish is not going to be realized. Maybe we'll aim for 45.

Anyway, I've been feeling a bit wistful for Italy ... and, so, felt the need to remind myself that the last time I was there, it wasn't all glamorous. I posted the story below a couple years ago, and thought this would be the perfect occasion for a re-post.

Thanks to the creative mind of blogger/author/illustrator, Douglas Florian, this time around we'll rename the post, "Flearence"!

*******

Some might find it surprising that I have such an obsession with Italy considering what happened to me while vacationing in the beautiful country a few years back. Hubby and I learned, after our trip, that the weather we thought to be normal for the late May/early June timeframe was very much non-typical. In fact, they had been experiencing a somewhat unusual heat wave. And heat waves can, apparently, bring on infestations of certain pests, namely fleas.

I should note here that I have an allergic reaction to flea bites. There’s a back story to that … I’ll share it at another time.

Our first stop was in Rome. There, I accumulated five or six flea bites. Thinking it to be a fluke, I grinned and beared the bites as they grew into large blisters. I was slightly miserable, but thoroughly enjoying the historic and culinary experience that is Rome.

Florence was the second stop of this dream vacation. In an effort to be frugal, I had found a wonderful Florence apartment on-line, boasting a gorgeous view of the Duomo. The owner was going to be traveling while we were in town, and had made his flat available for a reasonable price to gullible travelers such as myself.

The flat, with its musty stench and jungle-like plant arrangements did – in fact – have a view of the Duomo. Yes it did. If you went into the bathroom, which measured approximately 3 feet by 5 feet, and stood on your tip-toes to look out the 1 foot by 1 foot window, you could see the peak of the Duomo perfectly. (See that little bug, strategically located on the picture above? That's the bathroom window of our flat, as seen from the top of the Duomo! :-))

The bathroom – view or not – brought me to tears. Upon arriving in sizzling Florence, with my ever-so-itchy blisters, all I wanted to do was wash away the itchiness with a shower. After standing on my tip-toes to view the Duomo, I turned my attention to the task at hand. Unfortunately, a shower did not appear to exist in the 3 by 5 foot bathroom space.

Sink? Check.

Toilet? Check (sort of).

Oh, wait … there is a water tank mounted over the toilet; a floor drain in the middle of the room; and a hand shower of sorts propped near the tank.

Super … the bathroom is the shower.

I had exactly four minutes to wash, relax, and get my mind off my growing, itching blisters before the tank of lukewarm water emptied. Certainly, though, things would start looking up soon.

The next morning, I awoke to oodles of new blisters. It was then that we pulled back the covers to find fleas dancing on the sheets.

Day’s Agenda:

1) Visit the Ponte Vecchio and the Piazza della Signoria;

2) Buy hydrocortisone and bulk supply of Band-Aids; and

3) Eat lots of gelato to numb the pain and itching.

That night, in the midst of an Italian heat wave, I went to bed wearing socks, sweats, and a sweatshirt. Certainly they wouldn’t be able to attack me through so much clothing.

They did.

Our dream vacation was quickly becoming a flea-infested nightmare. Second only to my hubby, Lenirit Idrocortisone Acetato became my close and constant companion. My main goal as I dressed each morning had become attempting to disguise the increasing number of Band-Aids and hideous blisters under the diminutive selection of warm-weather clothing I had brought along for the trip. “Certainly, I can make these capris stretch down to my ankles!”

In a heroic effort to keep his bride from going insane from the incessant itching, hubby suggested we ditch our next intended stop – Venice – and head north to the cool, fresh air of Zurich, Switzerland. Forget trying to be a good sport … I jumped on that bandwagon and, with a sigh of relief, concurred with the suggested change in travel plans!

By the time we left Florence in a mad dash to escape the heat-seeking fleas, I had 32 blisters lining my body from neck to foot … most of them concentrated on my legs, some measuring the size of a dime.

At this point, frugality was a distant and silly thought. I found and booked a room at the Zurich Best Western, where - upon arrival - I wept with joy at the beautiful tub and shower, and the gorgeous, fluffy down beds. We emptied the entire contents of our luggage into the bathtub, ensuring no fleas had hitched a ride north with us.

Dream vacation saved, though bite scars still remain as a bittersweet reminder of our time under the hot Italian sun.

We do plan to eventually make it back to Venice …this time, however, we’ll be a bit more mindful of timing, in the hopes that we don’t arrive during an Italian flea-infested heat wave!

Neighborly Love ...

2011-01-11T16:29:00.000-08:00

We were the first house built in our subsection of the neighborhood ten years ago.

We had no idea who would be our neighbors.

We also had no idea what we needed in a house, given that it was the first for both of us after years of apartment living and we did not yet have children.

While we could use more space and maybe a bit more yard, our little house has served us well and we treasure it.

As for our neighbors … if we had it to do all over again and – this time around – knew about each of the families living in the homes surrounding ours … we would buy this house in a heartbeat.

Our neighbors are our friends; our children are all friends; we watch out for one another’s homes and families.

And, as if that weren’t enough ….

In the days leading up to Christmas, wonderful treats arrived on our doorstep … from a gorgeous poinsettia to scrumptious plates of beautifully-decorated cookies.

Around Halloween, our dear friend and neighbor was taking a cake-decorating course. And, brought over these amazing cupcakes which I didn’t even want to touch, for fear of ruining hours worth of work in one bite!

Before the craziness of the holidays even arrived, this lovely plate of gingersnaps was delivered ‘just because’ … and on a day when we REALLY needed it, given a homeowner’s nightmare scenario that concluded with us finding – under the house – both a leak in our main water line AND a dead possum being eaten by maggots {no joke … the smell was horrid!}.

Then, there was this little tea party … Hello Kitty-themed as you can see. Thrown for my daughter by a talented, former-professional-caterer neighbor who happens to be the only female in a house of boys. My daughter had lamented that she was sad that she never got to go to their house and play with the boys like her brother, so our neighbor kindly offered my daughter her very own tea party. Imagine my awe and my daughter’s squeals of delight when we walked in to find this waiting for us (not pictured ... a nice little spread for the boys too!) …

It is true … you can’t choose your neighbors. However, even if we could ... we would choose no differently.

Are you blessed with fabulous neighbors that you treasure?!

Missing the Glow ...

2011-01-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

{click on picture to enlarge}

I must admit ... I'm missing the lights and sparkles and warm glow that Christmas brings.

I adore the month of December, when homes - inside and out - are so bright and cheerful.

Don't get me wrong ... once all the lights and decorations are packed away, I love that my house seems, suddenly, bigger and cleaner and more open than before.

But, I do miss the lights.

So, I thought I'd reminisce with photos of our annual trip to ZooLights ... so spectacular!

Is there anything about the holiday season that you miss?

Yes, Virginia ...

2010-12-28T14:55:00.000-08:00

I have a feeling the discussion regarding Santa is going to arise in the next year, maybe two, with our son. He's 8 years old, and asked - point blank - about Santa just about a month ago. It was at the dinner table, and his 5-year old sister was sitting with us, so we gave the usual response (and I distinctly remember looking down at my plate, rather than into his eyes, as I answered). He didn't bring it up again. His request from Santa this year was bigger than usual ... not one that Santa was prepared to deliver on. And, despite our best efforts ... a couple missteps on his parents' part may have him wondering again, I fear ... though, he has said nothing of the sort.

As I was thinking about how to handle that discussion when it finally comes up, I couldn't help but remember the classic book, "Yes, Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus".

I had never even heard of it until two years ago, when my mother-in-law asked if I'd ever read it. On one of her trips here, she brought me her copy ... purchased in 1972. A beautiful, well-preserved book ... with a timeless message. A couple weeks later, a brand new copy arrived in the mail for me. A gift from my mother-in-law.

I don't plan to read it to my kids just yet ... maybe not even next year. Time will tell. But, I think this is the one I'll pull out when they finally look me in the eyes and asked me the question, "Mom ... is Santa real?"

"Yes, Virginia..." centers around a little girl (Virginia ... obviously), who asks that question. The older printing of the book provides a bit more back story than the new printing, explaining that Virginia's dad, upon hearing the question, tells his daughter to ask The New York Sun ... because what they say is always true. So ... she writes to the editor of the New York Sun.

The treasured, timeless response by Mr. Francis Pharcellus Church, in the year 1897, was eventually turned into book form. And, thank goodness for that ... it is a classic and is as wonderfully relevant today as I'm sure it was back then.

Hope you had a wonderful Christmas!

Dear Costco ...

2010-12-23T15:20:00.000-08:00

Thank you for the Gingerbread House you sold this year.

First, it was a bargain ... maybe $10, and well worth every penny.
Especially considering it came with the following glorious words printed on the box: "Pre-Built".

That would be the second wonderful thing ... there was no constructing required, save for a small tree.
It was all about the frosting and decorations ... fun, fun, fun.
It even came with a snowman and a gingerbread man. So cute.

And, here's the third and most wonderful thing of all about your gingerbread house ... it's indestructible.

We can certify this.

As we moved into position to snap a quick picture of the finished product - our children beaming with pride at the creation they had labored over for an hour - my son, who was holding the glass cake platter that now displayed the gingerbread house, slipped right off his chair.

In a split second, he was flat on the floor.

Somehow, he saved the glass cake platter, his arm held high over his head with the platter firmly in his grip.

But, the gingerbread house had crashed to the floor.

Amazingly ... the side peak of the roof was the only spot that sustained damage.
Minor, considering the 'earthquake' that had just occurred.

So, thank you ... for selling a product that not only brought joy to the children who decorated it (and the parents who didn't have to construct it), but held together through a fall that could have destroyed an hour's worth of careful decorating within a matter of seconds!

Please, please ... sell it again next year!

Al's ...

2010-12-21T14:40:00.000-08:00

(click on picture to view larger)

Winter, spring, summer, fall ... there is a place I gravitate to no matter the season ... Al's Garden Center.

For Christmas, this phenomenal garden center is transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with freshly-cut Christmas trees, a stunning variety of poinsettias, gorgeous holiday decor, and winter treats ... like their exclusive Ice apples ... Fuji applies that have been left on the tree until just after the first frost. To bite into one is pure heaven ... crisp and sweet.

Do you have a favorite place that you love to visit, no matter the season?

I Heard the Bells ...

2010-11-30T16:30:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, my husband and I attended an amazing Christmas concert with Steven Curtis Chapman and Mercy Me. During the concert, as a deep base beat and the melody to "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" played ever-so-softly in the background, they shared with the audience a glimpse of the events that had inspired the lyrics to this song, written by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow so very long ago on Christmas Day in 1864.

I was completely unaware of the origin of the song before that night.

After the concert, I investigated further, seeking more detail to the story. I learned that, in a very short time span, Longfellow had lost his wife to a tragic accident in their home, and his son had returned - critically injured - from the American Civil War that was devastating his beloved country.

I can only imagine that his faith was being tested beyond measure and his hope for peace - in his country and his own life - was weak.

Something changed on Christmas Day 1864 when Longfellow penned the poem, originally titled "Christmas Bells". Maybe it was the re-election of Abraham Lincoln and, with that, the possible end of the terrible war; maybe it was the relief that came from his son surviving; or maybe it was the churches that - during the war - would ring their bells on Christmas as a call for ceasefire, bringing peace to the nation, if only for a day.

Knowing the history behind the words has made this song become even more beautiful, sorrowful, haunting, and hopeful.

In many ways, it is a call for peace. Something we all hope for.

So, as the holiday season kicks off, I've been listening repeatedly to this very song .... take a listen to the Casting Crowns version, from their 'Peace on Earth' CD at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7670CXvPX0&feature=related.

Wishing you peace this holiday season!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2010-11-24T12:31:00.000-08:00

Have a blessed one!

"Turkey" by B, November 2008

Veteran's Day Tribute

2010-11-11T16:15:00.000-08:00

Our children's school holds the most amazing and inspiring tribute to our Veterans with an annual Veteran's Day Chapel.

The children, ranging in age from 5 to 15, sing patriotic songs with such passion and might, it takes my breath away and makes me smile. Here is just a sampling ... the 1st through 3rd grade choir (including my son!):

A song, "Letters from War", and accompanying video by Mark Schultz is played ... take a look @ http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6534897612011365856&hl=en# but grab a tissue first (pssst ... the ending is happy!).

Each branch of the military is honored and applauded, as they ask Veterans and active-duty members to stand and be recognized.

A list of wars, including the number of individuals who participated and the precious souls who were lost is read ... and those who served in those wars are asked to stand and be thanked with applause.

And, an active-duty Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, also a parent at the school, speaks ... words of such wisdom for our youth, who are being made aware how very lucky we are to live where we live.

The ceremony opens and closes with a moving bagpipe solo.

All of it, quite frankly, has by heart leaping into my throat ... tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, as the human cost of all these wars and how thankful I feel settles into my brain.

Wouldn't it be nice if all the world believed peace to be the answer?

Thank you to all the men and women who serve, and thank you to the families of those who serve, including my sister and brother-in-law. You sacrifice - in so many ways - for the sake of our freedom.

Be safe.

Pumpkin Faces

2010-11-01T09:15:00.000-07:00

Children's imaginations never cease to amaze me. They think big ... they have no limitations ... they aren't bound by reason.

These lovely pumpkins were created by my hubby, 5-year old daughter, and 8-year old son. See the one in the middle ... the one with two faces (puppy faces, mind you!) ... that was the creation of the 5-year old. She actually wanted to do three faces on her pumpkin, but it was a bit too small.

My hubby thought the idea was brilliant. After all, why does a pumpkin have to have only one face? He's got it all planned out for next year ... three faces carved into one large pumpkin ... which is then placed on a spinning, lazy susan-like tray!

So cool ... and, all because of a 5-year old's imagination.

Bringing Autumn Indoors

2010-10-26T16:30:00.000-07:00

Our little family adores a local pumpkin patch that resides on an island. Annually, we make our way to the opposite end of town to this quiet farming community, where we enjoy a hayride out to the pumpkin patch, picking pumpkins, visiting the livestock, climbing on hay bales, and shopping in their local store for fruits and veggies straight from the garden.

This year's first attempt was on a perfect fall day ... temps in the low 60s and a clear blue sky. As is par for the course in a region that rains a lot ... everyone had decided to make the same trip. As we sat in traffic, and watched the little cars off in the distance inching their way across the two-lane bridge and down the two-lane road leading to the pumpkin patch, we realized it was probably time to turn around. We had been in the car for nearly an hour, and estimated an additional two hours to inch our way there.

The following weekend, plans were made once again ... and, this time, it poured ... and poured! Sure, there would be no crowds ... but it wasn't really the experience we were going for.

Maybe we'll have a successful trip this coming weekend ... or maybe not! I'm learning to 'go with the flow' a bit more these days.

In the mean time, we've brought autumn inside the house.

My sweet friend, Kelli, owns a wonderful Real Deals on Home Decor store. She was having a sale; and, we, being small business owners ourselves, had to go support our fellow small business owner!

Look at the gorgeous pumpkins we found. And, those beautiful oak leaves. The turning colors of the leaves are my favorite part of autumn outdoors ... why not bring them inside (without the mess once they turn crispy and crumble all over the floor!).

And, how can you resist children's art ... doesn't it just make you smile?

Do you decorate your indoors for autumn or Halloween?

Autumn Brings ...

2010-10-12T16:28:00.000-07:00

(click on picture to view larger)

~ A rich, warm color scheme to the porch and patio ~

~ A bee frantically working on late-blooming asters ~

~ A tiny frog protecting the remnants of the garden ...

including a pumpkin that may or may not be ready for Halloween ~

For My Grandpa

2010-09-28T16:05:00.000-07:00

I was fairly convinced my Grandpa Don would live to the grand age of 100. My son, just days ago and out of the blue, prayed that his Great-Grandpa would live to claim that century-old mark.

He had struggled over the past few years. Throughout his lifetime, he was an avid walker … literally logging multiple miles per day well into his 80s. When his legs started getting weaker and tripping became more common, he reluctantly gave up his outdoor walks and purchased a treadmill. Eventually, even that became too much for his legs.

This last July, he turned 94. In the days before that life achievement, he had reluctantly moved into a retirement home, selling the house that he had built with his wife and lived in for 60 years. My Grandma passed away 18 years of days ago. He missed her terribly every one of those days. I suspect he stayed in that house for so long because so many memories of grandma still existed there.

He was a sweet, kind, generous, wise, and unassuming man. His smile lit up his face. He adored and admired each and every one of his 3 daughters and sons-in law, 11 grandchildren and their spouses, and 24 (and counting) great-grandchildren.

For several summers in a row, in my pre-teen years, he and grandma would take my sister, Heidi, and I on long road trips, fifth-wheel trailer in tow, visiting wonderful sites in the western United States and Canada. To this day, they are some of my fondest memories of Grandpa. And, they were his too. Being in his 90s seemed to make those memories even sharper for him, and he would ask, “Kelly, do you remember the trips we used to take?” And, then, we would proceed to laugh about the time we saw the baby bear in a campground, or the time we waited out a tornado warning, or our regular requests from Grandma for ‘just a smidge’ of ice cream … which was code for ‘lots of ice cream in a huge bowl’.

When I picked up my daughter from school today, I told her that her great-grandpa Don had gone to heaven this morning. “That makes me so sad,” she said softly, but then pepped up when we started talking about him being in heaven with the Grandma she never knew.

As we were driving to daycare, she asked, “Mommy, are you crying?” “Yes, sweetie … Mommy’s a little sad right now,” I responded. “Would you like a hug when we get to Judy’s (daycare)?” she asked gently. “Yes, that would be very nice,” I said with a smile.

Both my children adored their Grandpa Don. My daughter, though, had an amazing connection with him that started when she was just a toddler. She seemed to gravitate to him … wanting to be near him … even in the midst of Christmas gifts and cousins, she always made her way to where he was sitting, either to help him unwrap a gift or sit on his lap.

One of their last memories of him will be when we visited his new apartment at the retirement home. My son thought the miniature version of a house that Grandpa was now living in was so very cool. And, my daughter got the pleasure of riding on the seat of Great-Grandpa’s walker as he pushed her around the first floor of the building.

I am thankful for the time my children had with him.

I am thankful for the time my husband knew him … he adored my husband.

I am thankful for all the wonderful memories I have of him.

I am thankful he lived a long, mostly healthy 94 years. I am sad that it ended with a fall that injured his head and brain in a way that he couldn’t recover. I am sad that he was in pain during his last couple days. But, I am thankful that the pain didn’t last any longer.

I am sad that he is not here on earth with us anymore. But, I am thankful that he is now in heaven, enjoying a beautiful, long-awaited reunion with his beloved wife.

I will miss him terribly.

Summer Into Fall

2010-09-21T13:30:00.000-07:00

I adore autumn. There is something about the crisp, coolness of the air, the vivid leaf colors, the comforting smells of cinnamon and spice, and the anticipation of the upcoming holidays that has always won autumn the title of 'favorite season' for me.

One of my favorite signals that fall is approaching are our Crape Myrtles. They are gorgeous year-round, whether it be their leaves or their bark, but ... from late summer into fall, they are stunning show-stoppers.

As the rest of the garden is withering into a state of brownness, these beautiful plants are in their prime, with an eye-catching show of berry-like buds that transform into colorful, popcorn-like blooms.

In my opinion, they are a perfectly cheerful way to close out the summer months and add an additional pop of unexpected color in the fall. And, really ... who couldn't use that?!

~ Happy Autumn ~

Swift

2010-09-15T10:36:00.000-07:00

(Click on picture to view larger)

An amazing display at sunset.

The Vaux's Swift birds migrate south each fall. The chimney of Chapman School in North Portland has been their chosen September roosting place since the 1980s. Each night, at sunset, thousands of the little birds make their way into the chimney to rest for the night.

Last night's display featured a predator ... knowing the sun was setting, waiting atop the chimney for its prey. After seemingly watching from above and waiting for the predator to leave, one little swift succumbed to the much bigger bird, so that his friends could make their way into the chimney for a night of rest.

As their name would imply, they are quite the little aerialists ... always in constant, swirling motion. At times, their flight patterns seemed to take on the shape of cylinders, as they prepared to dive into the chimney. Controlled and chaotic, all at once. Another miracle of nature.

At the Coast ...

2010-08-31T13:19:00.000-07:00

~ We relax and enjoy ~

~ Hope you are enjoying the last 'official' days of summer ~

(Click on image to view larger!)

A Gem of a Book

2010-08-24T13:41:00.000-07:00

I got very lucky. When she released "The Heart is Not a Size" earlier this year, National Book Award nominee Beth Kephart held a contest, with the winners receiving a copy of her book. I was thrilled to be one of the winners of my dear blog friend's newest release.

I adore Beth ... her blog posts are always interesting, enchanting, and thoughtful; and she strikes me as being gracious and warm, funny and brilliant. I am always drawn in by the way she describes scenes and people and situations.

"The Heart Is Not a Size" was no exception.

As I read this beautiful story, I was awestruck by the poetic nature of Beth's writing. I was constantly marveling at her descriptions. I couldn't help pausing on numerous occasions, thinking to myself, "how in the world did she come up with that way to say it?!" Such as one scene where the main characters exit a stable, and she writes, "When we reached that place where the shadows were intersected by the sun...". It doesn't feel forced, as if she's trying to impress the reader ... it feels perfectly effortless and elegant ... just like Beth herself.

Today, Beth celebrates the release of her 12th book (WOW!!), "Dangerous Neighbors". Stop by her blog at Beth Kephart Books to celebrate with her. Congratulations, Beth!

Summer Memories

2010-07-30T12:55:00.000-07:00

Don't you just love it when a sound or smell or taste transports you back to a wonderful childhood memory?

We traveled to Eastern Washington last weekend to celebrate a couple family birthdays. While there, it quickly became apparent - as the distant sound of turbine engines made its way from the river all the way up the hill to where we were staying - that the hydros were in town!

As a child, I lived in a neighborhood that sat just off a street that had a perfect bird's eye view of the river. In the week leading up to Sunday's big race day, every time I would hear the hydroplane engines fire up, I would run, walk, or ride my bike down to the street, and perch myself on the sidewalk corner to watch as the boats tweaked and tested and practiced on the river, in preparation for race day. I would scan the newspaper, looking for any article regarding the boats and drivers and then committing the information to memory.

Then came race day, and the annual BBQ at my house. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins would descend upon our home for food and race-watching. One of my favorite dishes during those BBQs was as simple as they come ... garden-fresh cucumbers, Walla Walla Sweet onions, rice vinegar, salt, and ice all mixed together.

This past weekend, before leaving town on Sunday, we headed to my old stomping grounds and were able to catch two race heats. I felt like a kid again ... except that I knew nothing of most of the boats and drivers, like I used to! And, I didn't have the cukes & onions on-hand ... though, that was fixed after we returned home! :-)

Hope your summer is sparking wonderful memories as well.

Sweetness is ...

2010-07-22T16:28:00.000-07:00

A 4-year old 'coordinating' a cancer walk!

"Let's go on a cancer walk!" said our daughter last night, as we prepared for our nightly walk around the neighborhood. ('Cancer Walks' are what we call the walks we do each year to raise money to find a cure for breast cancer.) She urged us all to wear our matching pink American Cancer Society t-shirts ... and, we obliged. With urgency, she then ran to get her 'Cancer Walk' bear, so he came along too!

And ....

An 8-year old hoping that the Chocolate Mint plant in our back yard will yield ... what else ... chocolate mints!

"Has that plant got any chocolate mints on it yet?" asked our son. I had to double-check that he wasn't pulling my leg ... but, he was nothing but serious. And, very disappointed when I told him that, unfortunately, it didn't grow chocolate mint candies. I must admit ... that would be cool!

Some trivia ... did you know that mint plants have square stems,
rather than the typical round stem that most plants have?

Good Things Await

2010-07-06T17:19:00.000-07:00

Waiting. For me, it is one of the hardest parts of the writing profession. Not just waiting for any response ... waiting for a positive response! So, I'm turning to the outdoors for a little lesson in enjoying and appreciating the wait. Granted, my garden provides a much more colorful and interesting perspective on waiting than my e-mail in-box and mailbox. Daily, there are beautiful berries needing to be monitored for ripeness and new blooms opening on the hydrangeas. Soon, the backyard will be bursting with color. It's easy to see that good things await ... and I'm certain that will be the case for the writing as well.

Phil Collins' Affect on Grocery Shopping ... An Extremely Informal Study

2010-06-15T14:22:00.000-07:00

Not long ago, I was at the grocery store when Phil Collins' "You Can't Hurry Love" came blaring across the store speakers. I couldn't help but sing - out loud but discreetly - with the music, after quickly glancing to see if anyone else was in the aisle with me.

I stopped singing as I turned to go into the next aisle, only to discover the person in that aisle singing out loud, right along with Phil. I grinned as I passed that individual; and, then, chuckled out loud as I turned into the produce section to find an employee bopping up and down to the beat of the music. Before the song ended, I passed one more person swaying their head and shoulders to the catchy tune.

To my knowledge, none of them saw me or had the slightest inkling that I was secretly marveling at the fact that one song had just put four people in a very similar, happy, upbeat place. It may have only lasted three minutes, but we all had something in common during those brief moments.

Music is powerful ... it can bring people together; but it can also evoke a whole spectrum of emotions based on your time and place in life. A tune that one considers happy; another may consider sad. Lyrics that stir up longing in one person; may bring contentment to another. A beat that makes one person feel the need to dance; may make another person feel the need to sit.

I often think of Steven Curtis Chapman, who was inspired to write the beautiful song, "Cinderella", as he marveled at how quickly his oldest daughter had grown up. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, she was graduating from college and getting engaged. And, how the meaning of those lyrics changed so drastically and instantly for him with the tragic death of his youngest daughter. One song, one person ... with the words "she'll be gone" taking on a devastatingly different meaning.

Music, at its best, tells a story and pulls us in. We may be inspired by the beat, mesmerized by the tune, or drawn to the words.

As for Phil, he speaks the truth ... you simply can't hurry love; and, as it turns out, the tune through which he expresses that message really helps to kick the grocery-shopping experience up a notch!

Enjoy ... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3TesujRfpY

Rain, Rain Go Away ...

2010-05-27T16:10:00.001-07:00

In the midst of the coldest May on record in 10 years; and the wettest May on record in 5 years ... nature comes through for us, with beautiful signs of spring. I love looking out the window and seeing these bursts of color amongst the wet and gray:

Don't get me wrong ... I appreciate the beauty that is the end-product of all the rain. But, sometimes, enough is enough.

The weather pros are predicting the possibility of a dry holiday weekend. That would be a welcome change indeed!

Wishing you a wonderful, safe, and relaxing Memorial Day weekend.

Idea Brainstorming with Budding Young Authors!

2010-05-20T11:36:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I shared a post about a presentation I made to a group of talented Young Authors and Illustrators, ranging in age from 1st grade to 8th grade.

Today, I got to do some hands-on work with a group of 20 first and second graders. What enthusiastic learners they were! We did an idea-brainstorming session. I had them close their eyes and put their heads down on their desks (asking them to promise not to fall asleep! :-)) while I went through a series of topics ... favorite foods, icky foods, travels, people, pets, buildings, heroics, sports, holidays, buildings. I want to them to hang on to one personal memory that 'jumped' into their mind as I read through the list of topics.

When they opened their eyes, they had to quickly write down the one memory that stuck in their mind. Then, we did a free-write about that memory. It could be all true; or, it could be truth sprinkled with fiction. It didn't have to be perfect ... that's what editing is for. I just wanted them to write.

And, ohhh, the ideas they had! As they each shared what they had written, we picked out the main character (and even secondary characters!), plot twists, themes, setting, and descriptive words.

But, truly ... I'm not sure they need my help. See the illustrations here? They are from my son's Young Authors' book submission, "The Case of the Missing Hitch".

My son is into trucks, trailers, the hitches that connect the two together, and ... dogs! His story combines those loves within a mystery format. The story is adorable, and the illustrations put my attempts to be artistic to shame! In the second picture, the dog is sitting on his dog bed in the trailer with the missing hitch (note the red item to the left of the dog ... I love that the trailer has a dishwasher!).

The classes of 2020 and 2021 hold the promise of some talented writers. I'm looking forward to reading their published words some day!

Deep Water

2010-05-06T16:07:00.000-07:00

It’s a love-hate relationship.

Vast bodies of water are one of my absolute favorite experiences. The power of an endless, roaring ocean; the inspiring sight of a sparkling blue lake; water so still it provides a mirror-perfect reflection of trees and mountains or touched by the wind to create ripples and whitecaps; ferries carrying their precious cargo; boats lining a marina. So much for the senses to take in.

Funny, how I have fear of the very thing I am drawn to. I am interested in looking at it; in being on top of it. I have little desire to be in it or under it.

While my husband snorkeled in Maui; I floated along the top of the water, dipping my head in every so often to take a picture of him. I’ve always considered breathing underwater to be a thing best left for fish! Water skiing was cause for internal struggle. The skiing part was exhilarating; but my delight was tempered by having to begin and end in the deep, dark water.

Thankfully, on numerous occasions, a love for adventure and desire to challenge myself has prevailed over my fear. A trip to picturesque Orcas Island, part of the San Juan Islands of Washington, was host to one such occasion. When visiting Orcas, a popular thing to do is go sea kayaking in the Puget Sound.

Let’s take just a moment to analyze these two words:

Sea = deep, vast water; animals swimming amongst and beneath, including whales.
Kayaking = self-propelled human travel via a narrow, canoe-like, tippable boat, using an oar.

Our trip began with a lesson in how to maneuver the kayak and handle a possible tip. The very mention of which caused a combination of heart palpitations and nervous goosebumps. We were led to believe that, if our kayak were to tip over, we could perform a kayak roll using a swift lift-of-the-torso-hip-flicking-paddle-pushing action. I was fairly certain, though I didn’t share this with the guide or my husband, that – if I were upside down in the sea in a kayak – I would be spending more time figuring out how to get my lower half loose from the skirt attaching me to the kayak, and less time perfecting the roll technique.

Thankfully, neither method was put to the test.

As we floated away from the dock, getting a feel for how to propel and steer the vessel with our paddles and realizing the kayak was more stable than expected, the pounding in my chest slowed.

The sights and sounds surrounding us were stunning: water gently lapping against the kayak, hills of evergreens, snow-capped mountains, and blue sky mottled with cotton-ball clouds. It was peaceful, exhilarating, and the fact that I was playing a part in making the kayak move forward and turn filled me with a sense of strength.

As our group paddled out to the open sea, seals poked their heads out of the water to watch as we paddled through their space. A sea plane descended from the sky, landing effortlessly on the water. And, much larger vessels glided by, causing ripples that created a mini-roller coaster sensation for us kayakers. Unfortunately, though … no Orca whales were spotted. We would see them frolicking in the water at another time and place.

When the day was done, I was filled with energy and passion for the sport. My husband and I even discussed the possibility of purchasing a kayak to use on the river back home. Of course, those dreams were tempered by the reality of an apartment balcony that could not accommodate a large kayak and the realization that our visits to the river would likely be few and far between.

The kayak was not the important thing, though … it was the exhilarating feeling of a fear overcome. It’s still not my preference to be in the deep water. But I learned that, sometimes, the deepest water can bring the greatest joy.

Young Authors Day

2010-04-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

What an honor ... this morning, I got to present to an enthusiastic and talented group of young writers and illustrators at my son's school's Young Authors Day. I'll admit to my stomach being in knots, leading up to this morning, as I tried to figure out the best writing information to share with a gymful of kids ranging in age from 1st to 8th grade within the timeframe allotted.

Throughout my professional life, whether presenting to staff or colleagues, a board or students, or - now - children and teachers, it has always been the anticipation that has worn on me the most. I worry and fret, I perfect, I analyze, I probably overprepare ... but, once I'm in front of everyone and talking and interacting, I'm completely calm and comfortable. If only I could make the preparation process as pleasant as the experience itself!

Are any of you the same way?

Nonetheless ... this morning, I'm taking a deep breath. Things went well ... and the knots are unraveling.

Spring's Appearance ...

2010-04-15T12:05:00.000-07:00

... proven this past weekend, with a trip to the Tulip Festival.

The Easter Bunny Seat

2010-04-08T16:47:00.000-07:00

It was all very thoughtfully planned ...

the Easter Bunny might want to sit for a while, so they spread out the quilt my mother made for me two Christmases ago;

then they thought about what a bunny might like to eat ... and decided on an apple and 5 dark chocolate pomegranate pieces;

then came the discussion of a drink ... we're not talking Santa here, so no milk ... plain water should be fine;

and two notes ... one instructing that this spot they had created was the 'Easter Bunny Seat', and the other cheerfully wishing him/her a great Easter.

And, all of it flanked by their Easter baskets ... with the hope of good things to come.

It made me smile.

Christina Katz's Author Mama E-Book Release Interview

2010-04-06T16:17:00.000-07:00

In Author Mama, Christina Katz's new e-book, she shares her personal experience walking through the traditional book-deal process and book-writing experience and offers tips along the way, addressing common myths and challenging writers to get ready for the marathon that is writing a book.

Why would you do an e-book after two traditionally published books?

Like most traditionally published authors, who blog, teach, and speak, I have a backlog of quality content to draw on and some of it, though not all of it, will lend itself to the e-book format. So I plan to write several e-books over time and Author Mama is the first. I have old sketchbooks full of ideas I’ve had over the years, which will lend themselves well to e-formats. Equal opportunity access to e-publishing technology offers all of us writers a lot more creative leeway than we have traditionally had, which can lead to exciting and fun possibilities.

Besides being in e-book format, how is Author Mama different from Writer Mama and Get Known Before the Book Deal?

Author Mama is the story behind how I landed my book deal for Writer Mama and then wrote the book. I wanted to describe in play-by-play form what writing a non-fiction book is like for the benefit of moms considering the possibility with the lessons I learned along the way. One of my students who is on the verge of querying agents with a nonfiction book proposal says that Author Mama “goes there.” In other words, it deals squarely with the rollercoaster ride that most first-time authors experience. The format of my traditionally published books is not as driven by my personal experience, even though it informs them both. In Author Mama, I include all of the books that I recommend first-time authors read before, during, and after the book deal, so they can become as informed and empowered as possible.

Who are the intended readers for Author Mama?

Well, my two traditionally published books don’t target the same exact audience and neither does Author Mama. When I wrote Author Mama, I had my Writer Mama readers in mind, but of those readers, I was specifically focused on anyone seriously considering writing a book someday. Not every writer mama wants to write a book someday. Some are perfectly happy writing and publishing articles. So Author Mama is a slice (a writing book), of a slice (for moms), of a slice (who are considering becoming an author some day), and therefore too small of an audience for a traditional publisher. But many of my students and fans have this question and would like to answer it for themselves. Author Mama is for them.

Did you have any hesitations about self-publishing?

Considering how much content I have sitting around languishing on my hard drives, I am sorry that it’s taken me this long. The person I had the hardest time convincing was myself. I’ve had some hang-ups about e-books that I’ve had to get over in order to move forward. As long as my work continues to serve the best interests of my readers, why wouldn’t I self-publish? I certainly have a lot more to offer than I would just letting it sit around collecting virtual dust. At this point in time, I feel like it would be foolish not to e-publish, even as I continue to write traditional books.

Are publishers anxious about traditional authors self-publishing? Doesn’t this undermine their business?

I think, when it comes to self-publishing the opportunity always exists to take the enlightened view or the fearful view. I have heard people in publishing make comments that authors self-publishing is terrible news, which is absurd. The fearful attitude is, “Oh no, if that author can self-publish, then we lose.” The enlightened view is that when the people you partner with are more successful it’s good for you too because it raises all boats. Besides, when all the folks involved in a partnership are empowered and come together because they want to be there, that’s good for the relationship. It’s important to have good boundaries and communication in business and know the difference between what’s yours, what’s not yours, and what is joint ownership. When you keep these things in mind, and communicate clearly, there is really nothing to fear but fear itself.

How do you keep people from "stealing" your e-book?

I can’t stop people from stealing my e-book. I am completely powerless over that aspect of e-publishing, as most of us are. However, my target audience is not teenage boys and young men, who are supposedly the folks who do most of the pirating, according to the experts who study these trends. So I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. Also I don’t plan on giving my e-books away to avoid the impression that they are “freebies,” whereas with a traditional book I always do a lot of giveaways to get the content out into circulation. E-books are a lot easier to circulate. I can send one to you in seconds. So at this time, I don’t see the point in giving them away and encouraging others to share them without permission. I’d prefer to sell them to a smaller, more exclusive audience, who will see the value and, hopefully, respect my copyright.

What are three major points you hope aspiring writers learn from reading Author Mama?

That landing a traditional book deal and delivering a well-written book is possible but not easy by any means.

That someone else has survived the rollercoaster of emotions that come part and parcel with a first traditional book deal and you can too.

That some writers actually give up along the way and don’t succeed at delivering their first book but this won’t happen to the writers who read Author Mama because forewarned is forearmed.

Is this book only for nonfiction writers or can fiction writers benefit from it too?

Author Mama is specifically about my nonfiction book writing process, which is different from the process for other genres like fiction or memoir. However, a lot of my readers, who write in other genres, have said over the years that they find a lot of takeaways in my nonfiction experience. Also, I fully expect Author Mama to convince a few readers to try writing a nonfiction book, who might have only considered themselves other types of writers or not even writers at all.

Can I order a print copy of Author Mama?

When the book comes out in the final version in May, I will make it available for purchase in print-on-demand format, as well as all the other e-formats. During April, while it’s in beta, Author Mama is available in PDF format, which means you can print it out and put it in a binder yourself, if you prefer a hard copy. I’ve invited the first readers to participate in the process, so I’ve included a feedback form with the e-book but participation is voluntary. However to sweeten the deal, I will provide those who share feedback on the beta version with the final version for free, after it’s updated in PDF form.

Can I order this e-book for someone as a gift?

Sure you can. When you place your order, simply submit their e-mail address in the notes section and I will e-mail the copy to them instead of to you.

Thanks for your questions about Author Mama. If you’d like to learn more, please visit http://christinakatz.com/introducing-author-mama-how-i-because-a-published-author-how-you-can-too/.

About Christina Katz, The Author Mama

Christina Katz has been teaching writers to cultivate thriving careers for the past decade. Many of her students start by writing short articles and work hard and long until they eventually succeed in landing traditional book deals. Christina is the author of Get Known Before the Book Deal, Use Your Personal Strengths to Grow an Author Platform and Writer Mama, How to Raise A Writing Career Alongside Your Kids, both from Writer’s Digest Books.

In addition to writing books and articles, Christina publishes a weekly e-zine, The Prosperous Writer, hosts The Northwest Author Series, travels to writing conferences and literary events, and coaches a hundred writers a year. She holds an MFA in writing from Columbia College Chicago and a BA from Dartmouth College. She lives in an idyllic cottage in Wilsonville, Oregon with her husband, daughter and far too many pets.

Keep up with Christina at http://www.christinakatz.com/.

My Easter Wish for You via Magic Beans

2010-03-30T16:52:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite respites, Al's Garden Center, holds an Al's Kids Club event every month. For March, and in preparation for Easter, they had the kids plant 'Magic Beans'.

Here is one of the beans ... with a message of "Hope" on one side, and a picture of a butterfly on the other:

Just in time for Easter, here are the results ... no magic fairy dust required:

"Peace" ...

"Family" ...

A view of the other side ... flowers and a peace sign ...

Hope, peace, and family ... that is my Easter wish for you!

Come With Me to Kauai ...

2010-03-23T16:27:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned it often ... my love of travel. Recently, and for various reasons, 'big' travel has not been able to grace our to-do list. When I start feeling antsy, but can't hop on the next flight to some wonderful destination, I look through pictures. This week, I have been enjoying Kauai. We traveled there in late 2007. Please join me on a quick photo-trip through the gorgeous island ... and be sure to play the video at the end!

Rainbow east of Kiahuna Beach ...

Our last night on the island, we were graced with this gorgeous sunset (taken in Po'ipu) ...

Bottle Palm in the National Tropical Botanical Gardens ...

Oh, to have a tree that looked like this one, located in the parking lot of the Botanical Gardens ...

A stunning orchid in the Botanical Gardens ...

A sky flower, also in the Botanical Gardens ...

Puu HinaHina Lookout in Waimea Canyon ...

Waipo'o Falls in Waimea Canyon State Park ...

The lush Hanalei Valley ...

Kilauea Point Lighthouse ...

Hubby heading out to snorkel ...

The Spouting Horn, seen from Kukui'ula Harbor ...

Look at that form! :-) Ziplining in Princeville (SO fun!!!) ...

Enjoy the zipline ride (courtesy of my hubby, who was holding the video camera) ...

The Luck of the Irish

2010-03-16T12:21:00.001-07:00

In honor of St. Patrick's Day :-) ...

I was standing in line at the post office when I heard, “And how long are you going to be?” I looked behind me to see an older man, possibly in his sixties, with an unwavering face and twinkling eyes that just screamed of dry humor and wit. I smiled and laughed, noting that I just had the one box and would make it fast.

I didn’t expect the conversation to continue. Thankfully, it did.

“My wife has me mailing these birthday cards to Ireland,” he continued gruffly. “We’re always sending things over there.”

Being a travel fanatic, I was intrigued. “Ireland, huh,” I responded, “I’ve never been there, but it’s on my list of places I want to visit.”

“Oh, we’ve been there many times … at least a couple dozen,” he said. “Both of our families are from there, and many are still living there.”

“Really?” I asked, “Is that where you met?”

“Oh no …”, he chuckled. “I was an auctioneer. Traveled all over the place. One day, I received a call from a rancher in central Oregon. I was to come pick up some items that would then be auctioned. That’s when I met her.”

“At the ranch?” I asked, amazed at such a chance meeting.

“Yep … she was the rancher’s daughter. That was thirty-some odd years ago … and things have been going downhill ever since,” he added with a sly grin.

“Well … it couldn’t be too bad if you’ve been together for thirty-some years!” I countered with a smile.

“Well, she was quite the successful businesswoman. I couldn’t give that up,” he said with the dry wit that had become the trademark of our short conversation. He then went on to explain that she had owned several thriving businesses – including a clothing shop and a salon – in the very complex we were standing in. “Back in the day, there would be a line of people waiting to get into her salon,” he added with a hint of pride.

I glanced at the service counter where, fortunately, the customers in front of me were having some sort of difficulty with their mailing progress.

“I can’t believe both of you are from Ireland, and you ended up meeting on a ranch out in the middle of central Oregon,” I added.

It was then that he told me that on one of their first trips back to Ireland as a couple, they decided to check into each of their family histories. Through their research, they discovered that their grandparents had been from the exact same small town in Ireland. His had owned a hardware store; hers had owned a grocery store. They traveled to that little town and discovered that – even to that day - his family’s original hardware store and her family’s original grocery store sat on the very same street, right next door to each other.

“Wow,” I said with all the eloquence of a rock. “That is absolutely amazing … a marriage meant to be.”

The customers at the counter retreated and it was my turn.

I mailed my package and turned, intending to smile and convey wishes for a good day with this man who had shared his wonderful story with me.

He was nowhere to be seen.

I couldn't help but smile. ‘A marriage made in heaven’ came to mind. Yes, definitely that … sprinkled with a little ‘Luck of the Irish’, had clearly brought these two individuals together.

My potentially-tedious trip to the post office was made special, with a beautiful and unexpected story of providence usually saved just for the kids and grandkids. It made this German-Irish girl feel a little lucky too!

An Encounter with Gloom

2010-03-09T16:57:00.000-08:00

I promise to return with a much happier and light-hearted story next week, but thought this one important to share. It comes straight from my college photo book, highlighting my time as an exchange student in Austria. While most of the entries and captions are happy and hilarious, this one is devastatingly solemn. When I put the photo book together, this particular entry displayed no photos, just words.

Mauthausen Concentration Camp

October 18, 1992

I suppose the weather was what one would call "perfect" for a trip to a concentration camp - cold and damp, with a constant drizzle falling from the cloudy gray sky. For me, the weather added to the heaviness and gloom that I felt as I walked through the buildings and grounds of the camp. Mauthausen was built beginning in 1938, and was listed as a Level 3 camp, i.e. no return to society. Thousands died in this labor camp under the Nazi regime.

As we entered the camp, the first building our group was shown was a bunker. The rooms in the bunker had wooden bunk beds in them - each bunk bed wide enough to fit one normal-sized man laying flat on his back. The "prisoners", however, were forced to sleep three men to a bed. Even at the extremely emaciated state these men and women were in, this would have been extremely difficult. I'm sure, however, that this must have been one of the only ways they were able to stay warm throughout the night.

Next, we were directed towards the museum, where we were also shown a movie about the holocaust. The things I learned from the movie and museum were disgusting, sickening, and fascinating. Thousands of prisoners were forced to carry large boulders up the steps of the "Stairway of Death." If one of these people were to slip or "get pushed", it would turn into an avalanche of people and stones, killing hundreds. Himler, who was in charge of the camps, stated that he didn't "enjoy" his visits to the camps because they made him "sick to his stomach". While Germans and Austrians usually had some chance of survival, Poles, Russians, and Jews had no chance. Prisoners were usually fed every third day, only three spoonfuls. If they ate more they were beaten to death. When it rained, the prisoners had to lay on the ground and form a human carpet for the S.S. men to walk over so their shoes wouldn't get wet and dirty. No matter what the weather, prisoners had to stand outside from 5 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day.

Towards the end of the movie, I could hardly bring myself to keep my eyes on the screen. I kept forcing myself to watch, however, because it's too easy - in our day and age - to forget the tragedies that occurred so many years ago. It's so easy for us to simply turn our eyes away and not watch. The movie showed piles of emaciated dead bodies; bodies being carelessly thrown into carts; close-ups of bodies covered with flies. The pictures were powerful and frightening. How could any human care so much for dictatorship and so little for human life and dignity? After seeing the movie, I didn't want to be at the camp any longer. Many people came out of the movie in tears.

We continued our tour in an amazing silence - there was absolutely nothing that could be said. We walked through rooms with human-size ovens which were used to incinerate dead bodies, then continued into a room resembling a large communal shower area. The prisoners who walked into this room thought they were going to get a shower . . . instead of water, however, they were sprayed with fatally poisonous gases.

We were led through a torture chamber, and into an area resembling a hallway. This hallway, however, had open spaces on either side, and its walls were chipped and worn. A single sign posted on the wall stated something to the effect of "The chambers on your left and right were once used as storage for dead bodies." I could envision the bodies carelessly piled on top of each other as if they were really there. I stood in that one spot for a long time.

Americans are generally taught in school that the Jews were the prisoners in the concentration camps. However, the Jews were only one of a large number of populations, including black people, Poles, Russians, homosexuals, Germans, Viennese, and many more. Prisoners wore I.D.s which identified why they were in the camp. There were even "special" I.D.s for those who fit more than one category.

After touring the buildings, we were encouraged to walk around the grounds of the camp. Several of us decided to go find the "Stairway of Death". It was raining, and the rocky path leading down to the stairs was slippery. From the path, we could see the cliff that the S.S. would push prisoners off of into the lake far below.

I wanted to take a picture to show my family and friends what this place was like, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. A picture couldn't do justice to what really happened. All anybody would be able to see in a picture would be a lake and a cliff, or steep, rocky stairs, or an empty building ... but, that was not what this place was.

Read Across America Day & Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

2010-03-02T16:40:00.000-08:00

Cat in the Hat, by B, 3/2/10

Not only was today the 106th birthday of the phenomenally creative and talented Mr. Theodore Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss), it was also Read Across America Day!

My son's class celebrated all day with visits from special guests they dubbed 'Reading Royalty', who had the pleasure of reading their favorite picture book(s) to the kids.

As royalty, of course, we got to wear a paper crown while sitting in the Reading Royalty Chair. We weren't the only ones sporting snappy headgear ... the kids were all wearing paper Cat in the Hat hats they had decorated first thing this morning!

I was the very last Royal Reader of the day, so I decided to read some of my favorite fast-paced, silly, crazy picture books ... including the original "SkippyjonJones" by Judy Schachner and "Do Unto Otters" by Laurie Keller. And, what a joy to be asked to read a third (I had brought plenty to choose from! :-)) ... we chose "Bear Feels Sick" by Karma Wilson.

As we drove home, I asked my son if I had done alright as one of the Reading Royalty. "Oh, yes," he said encouragingly, "you did really great. You had good fluency." :-)

He makes me smile. As does Dr. Seuss and Read Across America Day!

Rock that Tiara!

2010-02-23T16:00:00.000-08:00

Dictionary.com's Word of the Day today is fructuous \FRUHK-choo-uhs\, adjective: Fruitful; productive.

And, here, I will use it in a sentence:

I have not been terribly fructuous with my blog over the past week, because I am completely and hopelessly obsessed with all things related to the Olympics.

I was actually going to do a post about the Olympics this week ... truly, I was.

But, this hilarious Olympics-related post by Real Simple Managing Editor Kristin Van Ogtrop came across my e-mail the other day and it conveniently summed up pretty much everything I had been thinking (minus the Curling one ... with that, I'm more on the side of being thankful it isn't in prime time (sorry, Curling fans...)) ... it's titled "Those Times in Life When You Need Your Tiara"!

And to her list, I think I would add ... signing my first book contract! :-) Now, go and rock that tiara!

Overheard at Tiny Tigers Taekwondo ...

2010-02-16T15:28:00.000-08:00

There are about twenty of them standing in four rows, their little bodies perfectly erect, hands pasted to their thighs. They range in age from 4-6 years, and they look beyond cute in their white uniforms. You can see their admiration for the instructor in the way their eyes follow him around the room. They are listening carefully, as he talks about a very important topic:

Instructor: "You've got to have integrity."

Tiny Tigers, in unison: "Yes, SIR!"

Instructor: "Do you know what that means?"

One Little Boy: "No, SIR!"

He may not know what it means, but he's definitely got it! :-)

Shelter

2010-02-09T16:40:00.000-08:00

We arrive at the shelter in the morning with eight carloads of first, second, and third graders. They are energetic, eager, sometimes distracted. In concept, they understand that they are helping, but do not yet know how much.

From our cars, we pull out bags of mittens, socks, children’s books, teddy bears, coats, and blankets. In addition, they have collected cans and bottles since the start of school, and have raised $106.00 to share with this place called Father’s Heart Street Ministry.

We tour their very organized warehouse-like surroundings, led by the founder. She is small in stature, but clearly a force of nature. She has been called for this purpose, and is passionate about serving those who have no place to call home. She is adamant they be treated as equals and called by name. There is no such thing as a John or Jane Doe.

It smells of cigarette smoke mingled with laundry detergent. We hear the click-click of a zipper as clothing is tossed about in a nearby dryer. Visitors are able to wash and dry their clothes once per week. Comforts of home have been recreated in the form of a living room area, with cozy couches covered in once-popular fabric colors arranged in rows in front of a large-screen television.

We learn that a second shower has been added recently thanks to the blessing of donations. The shelter is always open during the day. At night, they are open when the temperature drops below freezing. Mats line the walls in perfect piles. We are told that these mats – on frigid nights – are used by those needing a warm place to lay their heads. They take the mats, and find any open space they can on the cold, concrete floor.

A few of the school children remain distracted by the surroundings … the voices from the television, early visitors having a bite to eat. Most of the others have a look of concern as they simultaneously listen to the leader describe what led her to create this haven while watching an older gentleman, curled up on a mat, coughing deeply. It is sinking in.

I am having trouble seeing clearly, as my eyes fill with tears. I will not cry. The individuals here have smiled at us as we’ve walked through the facility. They don’t want our sadness, they have no interest in pity. They simply want our minds to be aware; and, if possible, our hearts to stir us to action. I blink back the tears by focusing on the sheer magnitude of organization throughout this place - - coats, sweaters, socks, shoes … meticulously arranged and labeled with care so items can be quickly and easily located.

My eyes connect with my son’s … literally and figuratively, they are wide open. He is clearly saddened by what he is seeing and hearing.

We hear of children who come and visit this place to have a meal, take a shower, read a book, and maybe receive the blessing of a soft teddy bear. Something to hug when they are scared, or cold, or hungry.

I suspect that each child’s grand illusion of how cool it would be to live in a car is slowly being replaced by the reality of what that really means, as we hear of families literally doing just that, or sleeping under bridges, or - if they are “lucky” – rotating through the homes of friends and families who have some extra space for a night.

The high walls of this large space would likely tell stories of both heartache and healing … those who have found hope, and those who are still seeking. The space is remarkably tidy and our guide shares that – upon opening the doors that morning – those waiting in line picked up a mop and broom, and started cleaning before doing anything else. They respect this space in which they are given the same.

I leave with an unrelenting feeling of tension in my chest that lasts well into the afternoon. But, that feeling is slowly replaced by others which linger long after the day is over … among them, gratefulness, heartbreak, inspiration, and hope.

Did I Hear You Correctly?

2010-02-02T16:12:00.000-08:00

Mondegreen \MON-di-green\, noun:

A word or phrase resulting from a misinterpretation of a word or phrase that has been heard.

Timing can be a funny thing ... last week, I wrote about me and a friend misinterpreting the question, "How was the hike up?" for "How was the vodka?"

Mere days following that post, Dictionary.com sent MONDEGREEN as their Word of the Day.

So, as it turns out, "How was the vodka?" is a mondegreen. Did you already know of that word? Please ... be nice, and tell me you didn't.

I suspect mondegreens abound in the world of song lyrics. My personal favorite hails from a time before I could read. I had memorized many of the songs we sang regularly in church. There was one song, in particular, that included a phrase that stumped me every time we sang it. Nonetheless, I sang the words with all the confidence and vocal power I could muster, "P for Pine-sol, the highest good."

I remember being uncertain as to why we were singing about a cleaning product and how the church had picked Pine-sol as the best one. If I remember correctly, I even consulted with a dear friend. She agreed with the words, but didn't understand them either.

When I learned to read and decided to double-check the actual words ... imagine my surprise in learning that the phrase I had been singing, so often, as "P for Pine-sol, the highest good" was actually, "Be for my soul, the highest good." Ahhhh ... that made much more sense.

Think back ... do you have a favorite, funny mondegreen?

How Vas the Vod-Ka?

2010-01-26T12:54:00.000-08:00

This is a re-post from about a year ago, with a few minor updates. I've been thinking about Austria lately, and this is one of my favorite memories. And, I'm so thrilled for the upcoming Winter Olympics, I can hardly stand it ... so there's a bit of Olympic trivia at the end of the post. Enjoy! :-)

One of my favorite memories of my exchange student days in Austria involved a trip to Innsbruck, Austria.

Admittedly, I’d label the majority of Austrian towns as ‘gorgeous and amazing’, but - oh my - is Innsbruck ever cool. It’s situated right in the midst of the Austrian Alps, which makes for great hiking, especially when you’ve been blessed with stunningly beautiful weather.

We visited the Alpenzoo first. Situated 727 meters above sea level and nestled into the mountain, it is the highest zoo in the world. And, as its name would indicate, it is home to animals that originate from the alpine region, showing them in their natural habitat. The Alpenzoo, in and of itself, could be considered a hike for many.

After visiting the zoo, our group split into two and my dear friend, Rachel, and I decided to hike up into the Alps. It was my absolute favorite day in Europe … exhilarating and incredibly beautiful.

Halfway up the mountain, we were joined by Marco from Germany. We had no clue who he was, but he stayed with us for the remainder of the hike. He seemed nice enough, as did all our fellow-hikers that day. I guess back then crazy stalkers weren’t as prevalent on our minds. I’m still quite certain he was a bit enamored with Rachel!

We made it above the tree line and, after a few moments of sitting and taking in the beautiful view and brilliant blue sky, decided to commence the joint-pounding trek down the mountain!

Towards the end of our descent, we passed another hiker who was headed up the mountain. As he passed, he greeted us and asked, “How vas the vodka?”

You know how you respond when you don’t really know what someone has said, but you still want to reply in a friendly and jovial way? You kind of do a hearty laugh and throw your head back like you ‘get’ the joke or the funny comment even though you haven’t a clue as to what they actually said?

That’s what we did. And, I think we added something like, “Gut … sehr gut!”

We giggled as we tried to figure out what had possessed him to ask us about vodka. I mean, we knew these particular hills were alive with music, but not vodka-drinking hikers.

It wasn’t until a few laughter-filled minutes later, that it dawned on us what he had really asked.

“How was the walk up?”

To this day, Rachel and I still laugh about that story. And, it just goes to show that the hills are alive … with music, yes … but also with fresh air, exhilarating views, and very friendly German-speaking hikers. No vodka required.

~~~~~~~

Now for the trivia! Just so you can impress your friends and family with your vast knowledge of international Olympic trivia, here are a few interesting tidbits about Innsbruck:

The Olympic Winter Games were held in Innsbruck twice, first in 1964, then again in 1976. The 1976 Winter Olympics were the last games held in the German-speaking Alps (Austria, Germany, or Switzerland).
Along with St. Moritz (Switzerland) and Lake Placid, NY, Innsbruck is one of only three places which have hosted the Winter Games twice. (It also hosted the 1984 and 1988 Winter Paralympics.)
And … this excited me quite a lot … on December 12, 2008, Innsbruck was chosen as host of the first-ever Winter Youth Olympic Games to be held from January 13 to January 22, 2012.

When God Closes a Door ...

2010-01-19T13:42:00.001-08:00

It was a very cold, snowy night in December. Our gas-powered fire was pretend-crackling and I had a million things to do before Christmas arrived. I was quickly flipping through the television channels in search of something entertaining to keep me awake while I accomplished my never-ending list of “to-do’s”.

I found "The Sound of Music" and was hopelessly drawn in. I got very little done for the rest of the evening, and went to bed way past the time I had hoped for.

Sure, I've seen it a dozen, maybe more, times (though never from start to finish). Yes, I know the story, but certain details sometimes need refreshing. Yes, the song lyrics have long been ingrained in my brain. Nevertheless, I still had to watch it.

Maybe because it is such a gentle, hopeful movie about the love of family, standing up for what you believe, and holding on to the hope that "when the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window..". But, I think it's also because it reminds me of my time as an exchange student in Austria, including a funny little incident involving a certain gazebo in Salzburg.

We traveled to Salzburg in November. My most vivid memory is that of hillsides crowded with trees in every shade of autumn you could possibly imagine, against a brilliant, clear-blue sky. It was like walking into a painting. It was gorgeous.

I also remember our long and comical search for the famed gazebo from 'The Sound of Music'. Just when we were about to give up looking, we found it. Locked! Hours of walking, and it was locked. I could see inside, but it wasn't the same. I wanted to be inside where they had filmed that touching scene between Maria and Captain von Trapp.

So, I did what any reasonable college student would do. I started pulling and yanking on the door. Not that I thought I would get in ... my roommate and I were laughing to the point of tears when she took this picture.

Nonetheless, I still do believe that when God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window ... just not the one to 'The Sound of Music' gazebo.

Success Redefined

2010-01-13T10:50:00.000-08:00

My steps were finally coming a bit easier as my feet rhythmically pounded the old cobblestone streets of North Tacoma. Distractions were – thankfully – abundant, as I passed beautifully-restored historic homes; well-manicured gardens; and the towering trees that stood like sentinels along the street.

My first time running ten miles in one outing was going surprisingly well (I attempted to ignore the fact that I was only 1/3 of the way into the run!). My breathing was steady as I wound my way through the neighborhoods of North Tacoma, heading downhill to Ruston Way. There, one of my favorite diversions – expansive bodies of water – would come in the form of Commencement Bay. I would worry about getting back up the hill when the time came. For now, I was reveling in the fact that I was running rather effortlessly.

Months before, I had walked out of a meeting with The Leukemia Society’s (now The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society) Team in Training, excited and anxious that I had just committed to not only running a marathon, but raising money for this remarkable organization as well.

Raising the money twisted my stomach more than the thought of training for and running the marathon. So, I did what all good sisters do … immediately called my sister to rope her into signing up as well. Misery loves company, right?

“Heidi,” I started, “I have a proposition for you.”

“What,” she said as a skeptical statement rather than a question.

She thought I was going to ask her to go skydiving, so – initially – raising thousands of dollars and running a marathon felt like a more sane alternative. She agreed to join me.

Our final destination would be The Mayor's Midnight Sun Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska, a race that takes place each June.

Shortly after committing to the marathon, an unexpected opportunity arose and I accepted a position with a company in Seattle, leaving behind an organization I had considered home since college. For six weeks, I spent the early morning and late evening hours commuting from Tacoma. Weekends were spent looking for a place to call home in Seattle. Marathon training was squeezed into the brief moments in between.

The donations that had come so abundantly at the beginning of my fundraising effort, began to taper. At the ‘go/no-go’ point, I was still over a thousand dollars away from my goal. I decided to continue, which committed me to either raising the remainder of funds or paying them myself prior to the deadline. My sister had raised a bit less, and was not able to commit to going forward. My heart sunk with the news that she would not be accompanying me to Alaska.

After moving to Seattle, I had only three weeks to focus on training and a stunningly beautiful place to do it. Alki Beach became my training ground, and the crisp, blue waters and sweeping views of the Puget Sound were not only a beautiful distraction, but calmed my growing nerves.

Likely the result of a somewhat haphazard training schedule over the recent months, knees that had never known pain now strained with every bend. At one point, my joints rebelled in such a way that – after bending to open a lower filing cabinet drawer – I could not return to a standing position without physically pulling myself up.

One week before boarding the plane, exhaustion, then aching, settled into my body. As the week progressed, a fever and racking cough joined the unwelcome party. Two days prior to take-off, a doctor told me I had bronchitis, then gave me two simple orders: Do not get on a plane; and do not run a marathon. He solidifed those orders with a threat of pneumonia if I did not comply.

I returned home where the tears were inescapable. This was not the ending I had imagined or the outcome toward which I had labored. As the tears blurred my vision and overflowed onto my cheeks, I dialed my mother’s number. It was clear, from my barely audible voice, that I was both sick and upset. I had failed on multiple counts. As mothers do so well, she suggested otherwise. It took me some time, though, to arrive at the same conclusion.

It is true that my desire to challenge myself physically and mentally had triggered this marathon-running endeavor in the beginning. What continually emboldened me, however, was that I was doing it to raise money for the Leukemia Society. The individuals they serve tolerate excruciating treatments in order to heal; and, if they could endure that, then I could go outside, in the dark and the rain, and run.

I had envisioned handing over the entire sum to which I had committed to The Leukemia Society. In the end, I was not able to raise the full amount required by the organization. I came close. I raised far more money than I could have ever donated personally in such a short period of time. Those funds would do great things.

I had envisioned crossing the finish line in Alaska. In the end, I did not run a marathon. But, I had learned my limits, including that of knees that would need to be rehabbed and treated with much more respect than I had given them in the past. I had affirmed my love of exercise and how physically and mentally strong it made me feel. And, I had challenged and pushed my body further than ever before.

I had not failed. Success simply looked different from the picture I had originally envisioned.

Generation Gap

2010-01-05T16:40:00.000-08:00

We had just purchased our beloved morning mochas and lattes at a local coffee shop in the small, coastal town of Manzanita. My husband and kids were waiting outside, as my dear friend and I exited the building, steaming drinks in hand. We were chatting as I held open the door for both of us, then quickly glanced behind me to see if anyone else was coming before letting the door close.

Just as my hand let go, I noticed a man – possibly in his late 70s or early 80s – walking up the ramp to the door. I grabbed the door to re-open it, saying to him in a cheery tone, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you coming!”

He smiled in a peculiar way and shared a hearty “Thank You”, as we exchanged responsibility for holding the door open. But, he didn’t proceed through into the warm coffee shop.

He turned to me, as he was still holding the door wide open, and said, “You know, I really appreciate you opening the door for me. Not many people from your generation do that anymore. It’s terrible … “ and then, still holding the door open, he launched into a speech about his experiences with people - apparently from my generation - who had failed to impress him in the ways of manners and etiquette.

I stood, smiling and nodding. And, then watched as – halfway through his diatribe – he let go of the door without looking … just as my friend’s husband was walking through the open door, hands and arms piled full with his drink, his son’s drink, and a coat. He quickly caught the door with his elbow before his piping hot coffee became a part of his wardrobe.

The man – still ranting about the lack of manners belonging to us Generation Xers (if that’s the generation he pegged me for) – was completely oblivious to what he had just done.

My husband, friend, and I – all having heard the rant – fought to keep our laughter at the irony of it all at bay until the man was in the building, and we were alone outside.

I’m inclined to be of the opinion that a lack of manners does not necessarily ‘belong’ to a certain generation. I’ve witnessed politeness and courteousness, or a lack thereof, across all age groups. I’ve observed 5-year olds holding the door open for those coming behind them; 65-year olds doing the opposite; and vice versa.

My very unscientific conclusion is that manners maybe have less to do with the generation you happen to be born into, and more to do with what you have been taught by example, what you have observed, and trying to be aware of and involved in your surroundings.

So, I will continue sharing a friendly smile, and maybe a ‘hello’, with passersby, waving a ‘thank you’ to those who stop their car to let me cross the street, and holding the door open for those coming behind me. And, I’ll expect my children to do the same on behalf of Generation Z.

Photo: October Sunset in Manzanita

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

2009-12-29T17:05:00.000-08:00

Isn't it funny how knowing the story behind a song (or book or movie) can endear that song to you in such an overwhelming way?

I've always been drawn to the Christmas song "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day'. A few years ago, my husband and I attended an awe-inspiring Christmas concert with Steven Curtis Chapman and Mercy Me. During the concert, as the melody and a deep base beat played ever-so-softly in the background, they shared with the audience a glimpse of the events that had inspired the lyrics to this song, written by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow so very long ago on Christmas Day in 1964.

After the concert, I investigated further, seeking more detail to the story. I learned that, in a very short time span, Longfellow had lost his wife to a tragic accident in their home, and his son had returned - critically injured - from the American Civil War that was devastating his beloved country. I can only imagine that his faith was being tested beyond measure and his hope for peace - in his country and his own life - was weak.

Something changed on Christmas Day 1964 when Longfellow penned the poem, originally titled "Christmas Bells". Maybe it was the re-election of Abraham Lincoln and, with that, the possible end of the terrible war; maybe it was the relief that came from his son surviving; or maybe it was the churches that - during the war - would ring their bells on Christmas as a call for ceasefire, bringing peace to the nation, if only for a day.

Knowing the history behind the words has made this song become even more beautiful, sorrowful, haunting, and hopeful. In many ways, it is a call for peace. Something we all hope for.

If you haven't already heard them, here are a few of my favorite arrangements of the song:

Mercy Me, from 'The Christmas Sessions' (my absolute favorite arrangement ... unfortunately this upload skips a bit, but it's still hauntingly beautiful!): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzJ9wieZH0M

Casting Crowns, from 'Peace on Earth': http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bK8xB1opuQ8

Steven Curtis Chapman, from 'All I Really Want for Christmas' (btw ... the title song, which is about adoption, will bring tears to your eyes): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JH5dPy0gwD0

Hope your Christmas was a blessed one! And, Happy New Year!

A Christmas Picture Book Must-Read!

2009-12-22T14:54:00.001-08:00

As I've mentioned before, our household is a big fan of Karma Wilson and her 'Bear...' books. And, this is the very book that started the 'Bear...' craze in our household.

In "Bear Stays Up for Christmas", Bear's friends make a valiant effort to keep him awake for Christmas. Their efforts are successful ... but all that hard work keeping Bear awake makes Mouse, Hare, Badger, and the rest of the friends VERY tired. That's OK ... Bear's got them covered, and he works through the night to ensure a special Christmas for all of them.

The rhyming text is perfection, and the illustrations are so warm and cozy, it makes you want to snuggle up with Bear and his friends in his lair.

It's targeted to 4-8 year olds, but the pictures, lively characters, and catchy rhymes make it perfect for younger children as well.

If you're looking for a warm and fun holiday picture book classic for your family, "Bear Stays Up for Christmas" is guaranteed to please ... even when it's not the holidays (this is one we do NOT pack away after Christmas is over!).

Sweet 'Yuletide'

2009-12-15T13:02:00.000-08:00

We were visiting one of my favorite places ... spring, summer, fall, winter, I can spend oodles of time at Al's Garden Center no matter the season.

Their store was a veritable winter wonderland. We were admiring the intricate railroad town. My son couldn't take his eyes off the train as it chugged by again and again.

My eyes, however, were multi-tasking ... watching the train, taking in the beautifully-decorated surroundings, and people-watching, when the most gorgeous shock of color caught my eyes.

I had to investigate. Certainly, this beautiful plant was only flowering during this frigid time of year because it was currently housed in the greenhouse.

I abandoned husband and kids at the train table and made my way over to the colorful blooms. It was a Camellia 'Yuletide' ... a plant that celebrates Christmas by blooming in December with big, bright red flowers and vivid yellow stamens that pop from a sea of shiny evergreen leaves.

Talk about a cure for the winter 'brown-ness' that has overtaken most gardens by now!

Sadly, I do not have the space. But, if YOU do ... run, go get one! Put one of these stunners in a big pot on your front porch and - voila! - your entryway is effortlessly decorated for Christmas! (The blooms last through February!).

Enjoy your week!

The Real St. Nick!

2009-12-08T12:34:00.001-08:00

In honor of St. Nicholas Day, which was this past Sunday (I know, I know ... I'm late! :-)) ...

Santa Claus … love him and the joyful spirit of giving he brings to Christmas. I believed in him for a long time. I don’t remember the turning point when I went from a staunch believer to one who believed in the magical feeling he brought to Christmas, but knew it was my parents leaving the goodies. I do remember, over the course of several years, having questions … logistical questions that made me doubt the whole flying reindeer, down the chimney story. But, I never expressed my doubt out loud or asked questions of my parents, nor did I transfer any of my uncertainties to my three younger sisters.

Fast forward to me as a parent … still loving the magical feeling that Santa brings to Christmas, loving watching my children excitedly pour over toy catalogs as they carefully choose what they will request from Santa, and feeling just a tad bit of guilt as they ask a million and one questions about the Man in Red! After all … I’m kind of lying … which, as we’ve ingrained in our children’s heads … is generally enough to put you on Santa’s ‘naughty’ list! Did my parents feel this way? They never said anything to me. My transition was just … natural. It just happened.

So … we are trying, gently, to weave in the true story of St. Nicholas. When I was in college, I did a semester of study abroad in Austria. I was so fortunate to be there during the holidays and experience the celebration of St. Nicholas Day on December 6th. On this day, children awaken to find their shoes filled with chocolate gold coins, oranges, and other special gifts. This day is a celebration in honor of St. Nicholas, a real person who lived in the fourth century and was the very model of love and generosity. While he and his generosity are believed to be factual, they sparked the larger-than-life legends and tales of Father Christmas and Santa Claus.

“Saint Nicholas: The Real Story of the Christmas Legend”, by Julie Stiegemeyer, is one children’s book that paints a picture of the true St. Nicholas via a fictionalized story. It’s a tad overtly didactic (I tend to prefer covertly didactic :-)), but that’s okay, it gets the message across. And, it has a great ‘Dear Grown-Up’ section at the end that nicely details the life of Nicholas, Bishop of Myra.

So … for now, we’ll read this book, talk about the real St. Nick … and hope that Santa and Saint Nicholas (a.k.a. the truth behind Santa) someday in the future meld nicely into one another without drama!

A Little More Hopeful

2009-12-01T12:58:00.000-08:00

"Peaceful, Snowy Christmas" by B, December 2008

Every December for the past three years, my son has gone to the ‘Share’ drawer of his allowance box and retrieved a collection of one dollar bills that has been growing over the course of the year. This year, his younger sister was inducted into the fun with her own, slightly smaller, collection of bills.

The sum doesn’t amount to anything earth-shattering - maybe thirty to forty dollars. We then head out on what has become one of our favorite shopping trips of the year.

We look for puzzles, drawing paper, colorful pens, pencils, and crayons, play-doh, sporty Hot Wheels cars (for the boys!), Hello Kitty jewelry (for the girls!), cozy socks, and whatever else strikes us as something that might be fun or useful for the patients at one of our local children’s hospitals or for the kids that will be chosen as part of Operation Christmas Child.

Our children get to choose the cause. And, while we may gently guide them to certain aisles of the store or give them little ideas, it is their money and, ultimately, their choice of gifts.

Every day, I give thanks for two healthy children and pray for children whose health, wellness, and safety have become battlefields they face daily. The little friend who is on his eighth round of chemotherapy for a brain tumor; the young classmate who lost all of her beautiful curls to the poisons trying to kill the leukemia; and the innocent toddler who can’t yet defend himself against a parent’s anger and lack of self-control.

I feel helpless. I can’t take the cancer away and I can’t shield them from being hurt by someone who is supposed to protect them. So I pray … alone, and then with my children, so they gain a sense of appreciation for being healthy and safe, and a desire to help those who are struggling with the opposite.

That desire to help is what our shopping trip is all about. After they have made their purchases, we drive to the hospital or the designated Operation Christmas Child drop-off site, where they pass the treasures along to a representative of the organization.

We don’t get to see any of the children that receive the toys, but we hope the gifts bring smiles and glimpses of joy to their faces on Christmas morning. Our gifts may be small in number, but they are a tangible way of feeling just a little less helpless and a little more hopeful. And, they are a way to celebrate love and generosity … the true spirit of Christmas.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-25T22:47:00.000-08:00

Have a blessed one!

Oh ... and if you get an opportunity to see a movie over the holiday weekend, RUN, RUN, RUN to see 'The Blindside' ... one of the most perfect movies ever (according to moi!). :-) Loved it!

Enjoy! See you next week!

"Turkey" by B, November 2008

The Strength of Nature

2009-11-17T16:09:00.000-08:00

The towering maple, stuffed with green leaves a mere month ago, is now disrobed - save for a few brittle leaves still hanging on with all the strength their withering bodies can muster. The shedding of leaves reveals an abandoned nest.

In the summer, we heard sweet squeaks coming from the nest and often witnessed a busy mother robin gathering worms from our grass. We could see the bottom of the nest from our patio, but had no idea what was happening inside. Even from our upstairs window, it was sheltered by the abundant leaves of the maple.

Last night, strong gusts of wind shook the trees, while rain and tree debris pelted our house. I half-expected not to see the nest when I opened the curtains this morning. But, there it sits. Bound firmly to the branch to which the mother robin originally attached it. Nature's strong winds were no match for nature's delicate, yet brilliant, weaving of grass and twigs.

Maybe it will be refurbished in the spring by another mother robin for her brood. Maybe it will remain vacant. Either way, I have no doubt this testament to nature's strength - a seemingly fragile structure - will remain rooted in that very spot for years to come.

How to Fold a Fitted Sheet … Me vs. Martha!

2009-11-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

At my former company, one of our wonderful employees - on his own time - took Martha Stewart's "30 Things Everyone Should Know" list, printed out each tip in full-color, and placed it in a binder. He made one for each of us in the department.

The other day, while searching for a book, I spotted that binder sitting on the bookshelf. Flipping through it, Tip #21 caught my eye - "How To Make A Bed." "Hmmm," I thought, "I wonder if there is a tip on how to fold a fitted sheet."

There wasn't ... but, there was a note at the bottom of the "How To Make A Bed" page, that referred the reader to MarthaStewart.com for tips on "How To Fold A Fitted Sheet."

Brilliant! I navigated my way to her website to discover what I had been doing wrong for all these years.

The following is a step-by-step breakdown of her tips versus my own process:

Martha: Stand holding the sheet by the two adjacent corners of one of the shorter edges. With the sheet inside out, place one hand in each of these two corners.

Me: Roll your eyes and sigh deeply and loudly … because you dread this task. Then, grab two outer corners of the sheet … whichever you can find first.

Martha: Bring your right hand to your left, and fold the corner in your right hand over the one in your left, enveloping it. Next, reach down and pick up the corner that is hanging in front; bring it up, and fold it over the two corners in your left hand; the corner that's showing will be inside out.

Me: Bring your two corners together and secure them with your right hand while your left hand grabs the folded side. Shake vigorously to attempt to straighten out the remainder of the sheet that is now dragging on the floor picking up whatever you just washed off of it. Mutter something about how much you despise this task.

Martha: Bring the last corner up, and fold it over the others; with its right side showing, it should envelop the other three corners.

Me: Toss the whole thing up into the air gently and catch it smack dab in the middle; remove the fitted corner which landed on your head and is now covering your face; proceed to fold it in half, if possible.

Martha: Lay the folded sheet on a flat surface and straighten it into the shape shown.

Me: Realize there is something small caught in one of the corners. Unfold the entire sheet. Remove a damp, wadded, wrinkled pillow case from the corner. Start folding process from the beginning.

Martha: Fold the two edges in so all the elastic is hidden.

Me: Stuff ... I mean, tuck in the edges, attempting to hide the elastic.

Martha: Fold the sheet into a rectangle.

Me: Think of the song “Rolling on the River” and use that hand motion to ‘roll’ the sheet up into an oddly-shaped version of a rectangle.

Martha: Continue folding until the rectangle is the size you want it to be.

Me: After you’re done ‘rolling’, fold it in half one more time and smooth it vigorously to make it appear less voluminous and wrinkled.

Me: Place under the flat sheet, so only one edge of the fitted sheet shows when viewed from the already-cramped linen closet. This will give the appearance that it has been folded correctly.

Martha’s directions (and accompanying pictures) can be found on MarthaStewart.com from the October 1997 issue of Martha Stewart Living.

Clearly, you don't want any more of my directions on this particular subject!

Happiness Is ...

2009-11-05T12:22:00.000-08:00

A 4-year old daughter who takes notice of the pink and purple hues in the sky as the sun sets ... and is excited to point them out to me.

A 7-year old son who - upon noticing that we have just run out of Halloween candy after passing out 160 pieces to 160 adorably-dressed trick-or-treaters and we still have 10 kids left standing at our doorstep - runs over to his own, freshly-collected Halloween stash, grabs 10 pieces of sweets, and proceeds to hand them out to the kids waiting in anticipation on our porch.

And, the following two songs (and videos) ...

I dare you to sit still while listening to this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eoaTl7IcFs8

I dare you not to smile during this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TTAUv-FM3I

Snagging a book contract would also fit into this list quite nicely. But ... that will have to wait for another day! Something to look forward to, I guess! :-)

Have a happy one!

The A's of Autumn: Apple Cider and Awesome Awards!

2009-10-29T16:49:00.000-07:00

OK ... awards first, then apples!

I recently received three awards from three absolutely, positively fabulous ladies whose blogs I adore!

Thank you to Sharon McPherson at Bookish Blonde for awarding me The Lemonade Stand Award! This award recognizes sites that show great attitude and/or gratitude. I am proud to be a recipient of this award.

And, thank you to both Lynnette Labelle at Chatterbox Chit Chat and Stephanie Faris at Steph in the City for awarding me the Heartfelt Award. Do you reach for a cup of cocoa or tea when you're relaxing, seeking comfort, sharing a plate of cookies with family and friends? You know the feeling you get when you drink a yummy cup of cocoa, tea, or a hot toddy? That is what the Heartfelt Award is all about, feeling warm inside. This one is often symbolized by a picture of a sweet little mouse in a teacup ... but, I thought the vivid red hearts on the black dandelion-like sketch was just too cool to pass up (apparently, this was created for any guys receiving the award who weren't interested in the whole 'cute mouse in teacup' kind of look!).

On to apple cider!

My normal Tuesday posting was preempted by a trip to the Pumpkin Patch with my son's class.

The skies were supposed to dump rain, thunder, and lightening across the region on Tuesday. It rained the night before, it rained the morning of, it rained as we drove to the pumpkin patch. And, then ... as we arrived ... the sun came out. And - with the exception of about three minutes of sprinkles - it was sunny and dry during our entire three hours at the Pumpkin Patch. It then rained on the drive back, and continued to pour for the remainder of the day. A-MA-ZING!

My favorite part was learning how Bauman Farms makes their oh-so-delicious apple cider. Here is the process in pictures:

Washing the apples, thank you very much:

Grinding them into a pile of mush (umm ... yuck!) within seconds:

Pressing out all the sweet juice:

Here comes the final product:

I love to see the behind-the-scenes workings of products like this. And, the final outcome was like drinking an apple pie (without all the extra sugar and butter!).

Happy Autumn!

I Do Not Like That Funky Dance

2009-10-20T16:20:00.000-07:00

We noticed it when she was quite young ... an adorable ability to feel the rhythm of music.

At 18 months old, a quick glance in the rear view mirror often revealed a little head full of wispy curls bopping along to the exact beat of whatever song was playing on the radio.

Soon, her upper body joined in as her shoulders rocked to songs blaring through overhead store speakers, even as she sat, strapped securely to the shopping cart.

When riding along in shopping carts was no longer an acceptable mode of transportation, the full body jive came into play. It was subtle. She wasn't twirling in the aisles. She was just moving with the beat - from head to toe - as she walked.

This past weekend, we were in the produce section of our local grocery store. A very disco-esque song was filling the area with a lively groove and - as we would expect - the little girl walking just ahead of us started feeling it.

The beat took over her body ... legs, knees, hips, shoulders, head, and arms all coming together as she strutted to the beat in and amongst the pears and potatoes.

My husband could see that our son was feeling it too, so he attempted to give them a quick lesson in disco. "Hey ... do this!" he encouraged, as he reenacted a mini-version of the famed Travolta move involving the index finger pointing up in the air, then moving down and across the body to point at the floor.

Our son thought it was hilarious. Our daughter, however, stopped - mid-strut - and with a very serious tone looked straight up at my husband and said, "I do not like that funky dance."

She then turned and continued bopping her way down an aisle of lemons and limes.

Earlier this month, our daughter turned four with a Hello Kitty extravaganza of a party. The age of four, we are learning, brings with it loads of love, even more hugs and kisses, an enormous amount of spunk, imaginative stories, major meltdowns, serious opinions, a bit more independence, and hilarious moments. Moments that I can't wait to write down before I forget exactly what was said, so I can re-live them whenever I need to inject a smile or laughter into my day.

Hope your day is filled with wonderful moments!

This Book Is Doing Its Job!

2009-10-13T17:25:00.000-07:00

It's a tricky thing ... keeping boys engaged in, challenged, and excited by reading as they get older and start moving away from the realm of typical picture books.

I've written along these lines before ... earlier this year in my post "Boy + Reading ...". And, recently, author PJ Hoover wrote about the subject in her post "Why Boys Aren't Reading".

For our 7-year old reader, the challenge is in finding books that have the unique ability to help him grow as a reader, but also appeal to his interests and his enjoyment of pictures and illustrations.

Just the right combination of the above equals a much less frustrated little man and a more willing and eager reader.

While he very much enjoys action/adventure and animal-related stories, his true love continues to be anything under the category of Transportation. From rescue vehicles to race cars to semi-trailers to construction machines, he is completely and utterly enamored.

This weekend, he told us that he wanted to buy another vehicle book, and he agreed to do so with his own spending money.

So, after a patience-teaching wait of three days from the time he first started chatting us up about it, we headed to Barnes & Noble. We found the section that included all the vehicle-related books within his age range, and told him to look through the books and decide which one he wanted to purchase.

In the midst of helping little sister pick out a book (because, of course, she had to bring her spending money too!), we looked back to find our son sitting on the floor, surrounded by four open books, pouring over each of them, intently trying to decide which he would be taking home. What a wonderful sight!

He settled on the above-pictured Big Book of Construction Machines, created by Parachute Press and published by the fabulous DK Publishing, Inc. The book has an age range of 7-10 years of age, which means it is perfect for helping him progress in his reading. But, the most wonderful thing is that he can't put it down. He reads it in the car and during moments of downtime; he reads it for school-required reading time; he reads it with his nighttime book-light after we've tucked him in to bed; and, today, he took it to school to show his teacher and friends.

Now that is a book that is doing its job!

Words Optional

2009-10-06T12:45:00.000-07:00

If my count is correct, this magnificent children's picture book has exactly 28 words. Twenty-eight!

Not 1,300 ... not 1,000 ... not even 852 ... but, twenty-eight very effective words.

The illustrations carry the story and delight the reader. The talented Nancy Tafuri, who wrote and illustrated this gem, was so very clever when she crafted this Caldecott Honor and ALA Notable Book.

From the words, we know it takes place early in the morning, and that the mother duck is trying to find her missing duckling.

With each turn of the page, the child reader gets to search and point out where the little missing duckling is hiding. It has been tested repeatedly in our house, and consistently results in delightful giggles when the wayward duckling is spotted.

Oh, how I wish I could create such gorgeous pictures. This book is proof that illustrations can truly tell a wonderful story and, sometimes, words are optional.

The Candy Man

2009-09-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

The first time I met Sam, I was in the midst of my strength training routine. As I strained and sweated to lift the weights just a few more times, he came around the corner and – extending an old-fashioned doctor’s bag toward me – said brightly, “Would you like a piece of candy?”

I stopped what I was doing and peered into the open pouch on the side of his bag to find a multihued assortment of hard candies. I smiled and asked, "Are there butterscotch discs in there?”

“Oh, yes … I’ve got those,” he said with confidence as he dug his hand into the bag and plucked out a golden disc.

“Thank you!” I said, with the giddiness of a child surveying her haul on Halloween night.

He turned to leave, then stopped and glanced at the weights I was using, “You know those come in lighter versions.”

I laughed.

I soon learned his very appropriate nickname - Sam the Candy Man. I also learned what a treat it is to watch him work the room of fellow ‘Silver Sneakers’ exercise classmates, offering them candy and bringing joy to their faces.

Outgoing and jovial, his response to the question “How are you, Sam?” is – with 99.9 percent certainty – always a hearty “Super Darn Whoppin’!” And, as if he has planned it because he knows I love them, there is always a butterscotch disc sitting atop the array of sweets when he extends his bag to me.

I do realize there are a couple rules being broken with this story. The first time I was approached by Sam, I did – in fact – take candy from a stranger. The very opposite of the rule we drill into our children’s brains.

Second, the candy is being distributed and accepted at a fitness club where, it seems, most people would be working to thwart the effects of such sweet temptations.

But, these broken rules are countered by the simple happiness and feeling of camaraderie his smile, his kind greeting, and his sharing of a small piece of candy bring to my day.

Today, Sam was wearing a shirt with the caption “SAM-tastic!” splashed across the front. I wholeheartedly agree. And, to that I would add “Sweet”.

I Wish I'd Thought of That!

2009-09-22T15:31:00.000-07:00

Clever, that Jon J. Muth. I'll admit, I have yet to read the Caldecott Honor-winning Zen Shorts, which came before Zen Ties. But, I suspect it's just as brilliant.

Mr. Muth subtly introduces young children to haiku in this engaging tale. The main character, Stillwater (a rather large talking panda) has a nephew named, Koo. When he meets him at the train station, he says (you can all say it with me if you see where this is going!), "Hi, Koo!" So, so clever. And, Koo only speaks in haiku ... yep, he's got 17 syllables to say his peace. And, I have to say ... he is very artful with those 17 syllables!

Not all may agree with me, given that there is a lot of dialogue in this children's book ... but, I tend to write that way too, and love how well the dialogue works in this book.

Not only does it introduce the concept of haiku in such a clever way, but it has a beautiful message of compassion and respect ... without being overtly didactic.

And the watercolor illustrations ... well, they are simply mesmerizing. Vivid, yet sweet, with a nostalgic feel. They captivated and entertained my almost-4-year old even while I was explaining the Hi Koo / haiku wordplay to her! :-)

I highly recommend Zen Ties ... and am now looking forward to reading Zen Shorts!

A Picture in Perseverance

2009-09-15T16:24:00.000-07:00

per⋅se⋅ver⋅ance [pur-suh-veer-uhns]
–noun
1.steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., esp. in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.
2.Theology - continuance in a state of grace to the end, leading to eternal salvation.

Perseverance has, in many ways, become my personal motto. When people ask me how things are progressing with regard to my writing career and what it is like compared to what I used to do in the corporate world, I often respond that I have been learning the art of perseverance and patience.

Not long ago, I wrote about some significant changes that took place in the green space behind our house and backyard. In order to add power lines, the electric company first had to eliminate all the blackberries, bushes, and wild plants; then, piece by piece, they took down two incredibly large maple trees.

After the hard labor was complete, what remained was trampled ground, primarily consisting of wood chips.

But, two weeks ago, I was standing at the kitchen sink when a burst of color caught my eye. Just beyond our fence, a beautiful, bright sunflower had bloomed amidst the wreckage.

Now that's perseverance, I thought. It's not the grandest of sunflowers, but it survived nonetheless and blossomed at just the right time.

A great reminder for me that - with hard work and perseverance - good things will bloom.

Herman ... A Fish Tale

2009-09-08T13:25:00.000-07:00

Last week, hubby and I took the kids to the stunning Bonneville Fish Hatchery in the equally-impressive Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area.

Before actually going there, I would have never guessed I would be referring to a fish hatchery as 'stunning'. But, it is. The grounds are simply gorgeous. I walked around clicking pictures and commenting continuously on how beautiful everything looked.

The main attraction, however, is not the landscaping. It is Herman the Sturgeon. I couldn't help but think how perfect a character Herman would be for a children's picture book.

While myths abound, the true facts about Herman are limited in number, but staggering to the mind:

Herman the Sturgeon is over 10 feet long.
He weighs in at over 450 pounds.
He is over 70 years old.

My son and daughter thought he was a riot. As he nonchalantly swam by, my son waved; while my daughter excitedly showed him her Pet Shop pups ... ya know, just in case he was in to that kind of thing.

As for me ... I'm still wondering about the picture book possibility. Looks like I've got some research in my future!

Happy writing!

The Kindness of Strangers - Part 2

2009-09-01T16:50:00.000-07:00

** Story continued from previous post **

My bike pack didn’t fit correctly on the new bike, so I rigged it as best I could to the front frame and set off.

It was exhilarating. The towering pines. The still-cool, fresh air. I had been biking for only 10 minutes, not realizing that my bike pack was working its way loose from the frame.

Without warning, the pavement was approaching at warp speed. I put both hands out to meet it, attempting to break the fall and protect my head. Seconds later, I was flat on the ground, the bicycle partially perched on top of me.

I attempted to get a sense of what had happened. The bike pack was lying on the ground under the front wheel. It had fallen into the front spokes as I whizzed down the path, stopping the bike in an instant and hurtling me to the ground.

A man and his son biked by slowly. The young boy looked concerned and I heard him quietly ask his dad if I was okay. “Are you alright?” the father asked.

“Sure, yes … I’ll be fine,” I automatically responded.

I caught him glancing back at me, apparently not convinced. But, he continued on.

There was a hole in my favorite Nike workout jacket. And, the pavement had clearly won the fight in multiple places along my arms and hands.

I picked up the bike pack, then the bike – it had apparently escaped injury by landing on me. Something wasn’t right. I noticed a horrible pain searing through my wrist and up my arm as I lifted the bike. I put it back down, and attempted to lift it with the other hand. Same result.

I attempted to stay calm, but couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that I had, apparently, injured both of my arms in the fall, was bleeding, and still needed to get home.

No problem. A few turns and I would be back to the house in no time.

The homes of Sun River are laid out in a repeated Circle 8 kind of design. You can easily end up looping around the same neighborhood if you don’t know exactly where to turn. But, I knew where I was going. I wasn’t terribly worried.

Until I realized that I was looping around the same neighborhood … unfortunately not the one occupied by the house I was staying in.

By this time, I wasn’t feeling well. I was steering with the hand and arm that hurt the least. The other, which I couldn’t move at all, was holding the wretched bike pack.

I was feeling light-headed. I noticed two men, maybe 7 houses ahead of me, on their bikes. It looked like they were slowing down, heading for one of the houses at the end of the cul-de-sac.

I stashed away my pride, prayed that they weren’t crazed lunatics, and yelled, “Help … please!”

It came out as a squeak.

I yelled again and kept pedaling. Still not loud enough.

I yelled a third time. They had heard me. They got off their bikes and came toward me. “Are you hurt?” one of them asked, an obvious look of concern on his face as his eyes quickly scanned over torn clothing and bloody patches of skin.

The other simply said, “You need to get to a doctor. Are you staying around here?”

They placed my bike in the trunk of their car as I told them the address. Within a few minutes, we were there. Unfortunately, my friend and her aunt were not.

They decided to try the small, local medical office in Sun River. Our shoulders slumped as we read a sign taped to the door, explaining that the office was closed for Memorial Day weekend. They offered to take me to the hospital in Bend.

I convinced them that my friend and her aunt would be returning from their walk soon. An 8-month pregnant woman couldn’t get too terribly far!

Sure enough, as we drove up the driveway, they walked up to the house – looks of question and concern plastered across their faces as they watched me exit this unfamiliar car as the bike was removed from the trunk.

I shared a measly, but heartfelt, “Thank you so very much” with these two men who had been so kind, so concerned for the well-being of a complete stranger. Did they miss out on exciting plans while shuttling me around? Hard to say … they never uttered one word about their missed opportunities, only words of concern that I find the care I needed.

My friend and her aunt drove me to the hospital in Bend; then proceeded to spend their precious vacation time waiting with me in the emergency room. It was a long day of x-rays and exams, and my very pregnant friend endured hard plastic chairs as she waited. She uttered not a single word of complaint (though, I’m certain she was dreaming of the oh-so-soft and supportive chairs she could be sitting in back at the house!). She helped me with hospital paperwork (my wrists/hands were useless!) and – upon arriving at home – even washed and dried my hair (again with the useless hands).

In the weeks that followed, my husband got to experience washing and drying my hair while my wrists healed to the point of being usable again. I remember no words of complaint from him either (though I do remember a few complaints being uttered by yours truly about hair styling … poor guy!).

An unfortunate turn of events became a personal experience in true kindheartedness, with no strings attached … from strangers, from friends, from family. And for that, I am thankful.

The Kindness of Strangers - Part I

2009-08-27T11:49:00.000-07:00

It was early. Dewdrops balanced atop the grass blades, sparkling in the morning sun that would soon be heating up the aptly-named resort town.

“Are you going biking today?” my husband asked, as he quickly took a final inventory of his fishing gear. He and a friend, whom we were vacationing with, were embarking on a remote fly-fishing trip along the Deschutes River. They would be out-of-range and unreachable all day.

“Yes!” I could hardly wait. I was a fairly avid biker and was thrilled to be taking advantage of the 35 miles of paved biking trails weaving in and through Sun River, some of it along the Deschutes.

My dear friend was 8 months pregnant. We were staying in her aunt’s stunning vacation home. They had a relaxing walk planned for their morning.

I grabbed a bottle of water, stuffed my I.D., some cash, and a snack into my small bike pack, and attached them to my bike’s front frame. I was off!

Or, maybe not. I had a flat tire. I pumped it. It immediately went flat. It was the inner tube. Dejected, I returned to the house.

“No problem,” said my friend’s aunt, “just take my bike!”

I was both excited and hesitant to ride her gleaming, new bike. Really, though, why was I worrying? I had never been in a bike accident before.

Odd, the power of suggestion. Not that it was even a suggestion, really. More like a passing thought.

To be continued ...

Dreaming ...

2009-08-18T14:08:00.000-07:00

This is another of my favorite pictures from our recent beach trip. Do you see what's happening here? My two little people - faces plastered against the window, mouths salivating - as they watch the good folks from Bruce's Candy Kitchen make their tasty creations and dream that - somehow, someway - they'll either be offered a tasty treat or their parents will decide to go inside and make a purchase! What a riot!

It's quite similar to how many of us feel, I'm sure ... though I can only speak for myself. Maybe it comes in the form of an announcement that a publisher is now seeking and accepting the exact type of work you create. The butterflies start rumbling about your tummy, your excitement starts to build as you dare to imagine the possibility of getting your work published. You can hardly wait to get your manuscript into their hands.

I'm quite certain that if any of the publishers I submitted manuscripts to lived within a 100-mile radius of my town and had a window where I could watch them work through their slush pile ... I'd be standing at that very window, in a fashion quite similar to my children in the above picture. Nose smooshed against the glass; mouth salivating at the possibility of my work getting chosen!

Impossible concept, I know ... those piles of 'to be read' are never going to be open to public viewing ... but, fun to dream about nonetheless!

Have a great week of writing ... and dreaming!

The Bella Sinclair Award

2009-08-13T14:33:00.000-07:00

Thank you, thank you to the ever-so-talented, thoughtful, and always kind Sherry Rogers, of Sherry Rogers Illustrations for treating me to the Bella Sinclair Award! Sherry, herself, epitomizes this award!!

I am a huge fan of Sherry ... she is the talented illustrator of numerous children's picture books (many through awesome publisher Sylvan Dell), she can grow tomatoes like nobody's business, and she always has encouraging words to share!

You can read about the history of this award on Ces's blog. It was created by Ces in honor of her friend, Bella Sinclair. Here is what Ces says about the award:

"I designed this award to celebrate art in the blogs and to honor the value of friendship, sisterhood, sharing and caring. It is to be awarded to the gifted, accomplished, eloquent and talented blogger whose friendship and influence inspire us to do our best. That I named it after Bella Sinclair is because she epitomizes all of these things. She is an inspiration to many of us."

I am passing the award along to Serenity, of Serenity Now (such a fun title ... I can't help but think of Seinfeld every time I visit her blog!). Serenity was one of my very first followers ... before I knew it was even possible to have followers! She encouraged me, from the beginning, as a blogger and a writer. Through our posts, we discovered numerous similarities ... it was like finding a kindred spirit in the blogosphere! And, her blog/website is always filled with thought-provoking, insightful, and humorous posts!

Eating Sand ... or, The Ups and Downs of the Writing Life :-)

2009-08-06T14:11:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, we visited the always-stunning Oregon Coast. The roar of the ocean and the warmth of the velvety sand has the immediate effect of relaxing all the tensed-up muscles in my neck and shoulders. I love it.

And, so does the rest of the family. The kids are as content as can be digging in the sand, constructing sand buildings and bridges, and running alongside the frigid water. Jeff perfected a new sand-building technique I'd just read about in a magazine ... combining water and sand, and letting it drip from your hand into little sculptures. Witness here ... a mountain of sand trees!

What amused me most, however, was our attempt at flying the Blue Angel's jet kite. The wind was just this side of a little too calm and it refused to stay aloft. At one point, as Jeff held the string and Braden tossed the kite up in the air for one last attempt at flight, I grabbed my camera ... and shot this sequence:

Oh, yes ... we've got it ... we're heading up .....

no ... wait ... we're going down ...

oh dear ... yep, we're eating sand.

For some reason, as I watched this all happen over the course of mere seconds, my last rejection popped into my head. Usually, I'm waiting for a response from a children's book publisher. This time, however, I was thrilled to be waiting for a response from a magazine editor. It was the first magazine article I had submitted. I was branching out, expanding my horizon ... and I was quite excited by the prospect.

When the editor e-mailed back, I had the standard, "Do I really want to open this?" feeling in the pit of my stomach. But, of course, I did.

The first line was good ... "this is terrific", it read. I was soaring up, up in the air.

But, then I read the word, "unfortunately" ... oh dear ... I think we're going down.

"We can't find the right place for it in our line-up." And, there I was ... eating sand again!

I actually chuckled as I stood there, in the warm sand, silently connecting my rejection to the failure of the kite to fly on this particular day. Because ... on a different day - when the wind is just right - that kite will soar up in the air (and, yes, it will eat sand again too!!). It was a great reminder to me that someday - when the timing is just right - something I've written will find its place and get its chance to soar. In the mean time, I'll just have to learn to appreciate the sand!

I Love Awards! :-)

2009-08-04T12:13:00.000-07:00

A gazillion thanks to Sheri, at the fabulous Diary of a Children's Book Writer blog, for awarding me the lovely

Superior Scribbler Award!

I am so honored and excited. Sheri is fabulous ... if you haven't already gotten to know her, you must stop by her blog. She is smart, funny, honest, helpful, and just as kind as can be. And, I adore the other blogs she chose as well, including PJ Hoover at Roots in Myth, and Rebecca at Rebecca's Writing Journey.

OK, now for following the award rules! :-)

Each Superior Scribbler must, in turn, pass the Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy buds.
Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to this post, which explains The Award.
Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List (!?) at the Scholastic-Scribe's blog. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives this prestigious honor!
Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

Seriously, I adore every single blog I follow, otherwise I wouldn't be following them. But, being the good rule-follower that I am, here are my five Superior Scribbler award recipients ....

Rebecca Ramsey at Wonders Never Cease
Beth Kephart at Beth Kephart Books
Sherrie at Write About Now
Sherry Rogers at Sherry Rogers Illustrations Blog
Cathy at Cathy C.'s Hall of Fame

Oh ... and there's also ... wait, is that my five already?! There are also a few blogs I adore that are on 'vacation' for the summer ... maybe I'll get the opportunity to pass an award along to them sometime in the future!

Congrats! And, happy writing (and illustrating! :-)).

Inspiration

2009-07-28T11:38:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking of moving my office to the kitchen ... specifically the area currently occupied by the sink.

This is my view when standing at the kitchen sink. Not only is it beautiful and serene, it also has something new to see each time I peer out the window ... a butterfly, a hummingbird, a new bloom ... or one of those 8-legged creatures that I actually prefer not to see.

Settings like this tend to fill me with inspiration and creativity when I'm working.

Not that staring out a window is going to get me very far, but - as you may have experienced - writing tends to involve a lot of, shall we say, thinking time ... your fingers may not be tapping across the keyboard, but your mind is working, creating, plotting, solving, striving.

What fills you with inspiration? Do you have a favorite location where your writing flows more naturally and ideas come more easily?

Wishing you an inspiration-filled day of writing!

Fear ... Gratitude ... and a Buck to go with that Deer?

2009-07-21T14:24:00.001-07:00

Last week was unexpected ... it felt, in many ways, as if we were in the midst of a nightmare; and, simultaneously, had a gazillion little moments that filled me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I mentioned my son turning seven one moment, and the next being incredibly sick for the first time in his life. After my post last Tuesday, his condition worsened. Over the remainder of the week, our little man endured blood tests, additional exams, a CT scan (requiring an IV, poor thing!), and – finally – a visit with a specialist. One by one, different possibilities were eliminated, and we ended up - despite an initial negative mono test reading – with a diagnosis of just that.

Thankfully, he’s turned the corner. Little ones rarely get mono but – when they do – they bounce back much quicker than the 14 – 25 year olds it usually invades! We can see it already … his sense of humor, his desire to play more, the color coming back to his face, the absence of a fever.

We are so thankful for this outcome … and for all your good wishes and prayers. And … the moments that filled me with gratitude … they were the concern from so many, including family and friends who were calling and texting daily to check in on his condition. And, the magnificent doctors and hospital who – despite us not having any pre-scheduled appointments – flawlessly worked us into their existing schedules on a same-day basis in order to quickly determine what was attacking his little body so they could fix it! And, my son, who despite being in pain and feeling so horrible, uttered not one single complaint. So brave.

On a lighter note …

TOOTH FAIRY PAYS DOUBLE! A lost front tooth brought a smile to our son’s face in the midst of a week where smiles weren’t coming as naturally and frequently as they usually do! And, we discovered that the tooth fairy pays a bit extra for pain and suffering when the tooth’s owner is under the weather!

WOULD THAT DEER LIKE A BUCK? We’ve been dining outdoors … and, on a regular basis, have been joined by our deer friend, who dines on the blackberry leaves at the same time. One evening, as the deer started walking away, our 3-year old hollered, “If you stay, I’ll give you a buck!” She then pretended to pick up a dollar bill and toss it to the deer, while we erupted in laughter at the irony of her choosing to bribe the deer with – of all things - a BUCK!

PLEASE LET THAT BE A HIGHLY TALENTED HELI PILOT! We’ve had much activity over the past few weeks in the green space behind our home. First, the towering maples came down. Then, the ‘placeholder’ lines were strung – by helicopter – to the electrical towers, in preparation for the real electrical lines to be pulled through. Helicopters are tricky to maneuver … so, I must admit to my heart pounding just a bit faster than usual as this one flew sideways, backwards, and very slowly over our house, as it strung the necessary lines! Oy!

Have a wonderful and healthful week!

A Fiery Red Visitor

2009-07-14T14:14:00.001-07:00

This past weekend was my son's 7th birthday bash - a Lego extravaganza! He was ear-to-ear smiles! We lucked out with a gorgeous day on Saturday ... comfortably warm with a slight breeze and flawless blue skies.

As we were decorating the tables outside, this little guy flew in for a visit. I've never seen one like it, and I'm not sure exactly what it is. To me ... it looks like a dragonfly. But, I'm not sure those come in a fiery-red variety.

I skimmed through a few lists of bugs ... but, I can only take so much of that before feeling like they're crawling up my legs and through my hair! I did find a similar-looking one called a Red Skimmer, but I'm sticking with the Red Dragonfly!

If you know what it is, let me know!

As for the rest of this week ... our big 7-year old, who has hardly been sick a day in his life, is very much a sick young man. He's got lymph node swelling in his neck giving him the look of a football player and making him unable to move his neck and head. That, combined, with a constant fever, has me a bit distracted. The doctor has ruled out several things, and we'll be re-visiting in a few days to see if the lymph nodes are shrinking back to their normal size, or if further investigation is warranted!

So ... please think good thoughts that our young man - who has been such a trooper while clearly not feeling well - will be back to his normal scooter-riding, bike-jumping, Lego-obsessed, silly, sweet, energetic self soon.

Beware the Fleas of Italy

2009-07-02T16:16:00.000-07:00

Some might find it surprising that I have such an obsession with Italy - Tuscany, in particular - considering what happened to me while vacationing in the beautiful country a few years back.

Hubby and I learned, after our trip, that the weather we thought to be normal for the late May/early June timeframe was very much non-typical. In fact, they had been experiencing a somewhat unusual heat wave. And heat waves can, apparently, bring on infestations of certain pests, namely fleas.

I should note here that I have an allergic reaction to flea bites. There’s a back story to that … I’ll share it at another time.

Our first stop was in Rome. There, I accumulated five or six flea bites. Thinking it to be a fluke, I grinned and beared the bites as they grew into large blisters. I was slightly miserable, but thoroughly enjoying the historic and culinary experience that is Rome.

Florence was the second stop of this dream vacation. In an effort to be frugal, I had found a wonderful Florence apartment on-line, boasting a gorgeous view of the Duomo. The owner was going to be traveling while we were in town, and had made his flat available for a reasonable price to gullible travelers such as myself.

The flat, with its musty stench and jungle-like plant arrangements did – in fact – have a view of the Duomo. Yes it did. If you went into the bathroom, which measured approximately 3 feet by 5 feet, and stood on your tip-toes to look out the 1 foot by 1 foot window, you could see the peak of the Duomo perfectly. (See that little bug, strategically located on the picture above? That's the bathroom window of our flat, as seen from the top of the Duomo! :-))

The bathroom – view or not – brought me to tears. Upon arriving in sizzling Florence, with my ever-so-itchy blisters, all I wanted to do was wash away the itchiness with a shower. After standing on my tip-toes to view the Duomo, I turned my attention to the task at hand. Unfortunately, a shower did not appear to exist in the 3 by 5 foot bathroom space.

Sink? Check. Toilet? Check (sort of).

Oh, wait … there is a water tank mounted over the toilet; a floor drain in the middle of the room; and a hand shower of sorts propped near the tank. Super … the bathroom is the shower.

I had exactly four minutes to wash, relax, and get my mind off my growing, itching blisters before the tank of lukewarm water emptied. Certainly, though, things would start looking up soon.

The next morning, I awoke to oodles of new blisters. It was then that we pulled back the covers to find fleas dancing on the sheets.

Day’s agenda: Visit the Ponte Vecchio and the Piazza della Signoria; buy hydrocortisone and bulk supply of Band-Aids; and eat lots of gelato to numb the pain and itching.

That night, in the midst of an Italian heat wave, I went to bed wearing socks, sweats, and a sweatshirt. Certainly they wouldn’t be able to attack me through so much clothing.

They did. Our dream vacation was quickly becoming a flea-infested nightmare. Second only to my hubby, Lenirit Idrocortisone Acetato became my close and constant companion.

My main goal as I dressed each morning had become attempting to disguise the increasing number of Band-Aids and hideous blisters under the diminutive selection of warm-weather clothing I had brought along for the trip. “Certainly, I can make these capris stretch down to my ankles!”

In a heroic effort to keep his bride from going insane from the incessant itching, hubby suggested we ditch our next intended stop – Venice – and head north to the cool, fresh air of Zurich, Switzerland. Forget trying to be a good sport … I jumped on that bandwagon and, with a sigh of relief, concurred with the suggested change in travel plans!

By the time we left Florence in a mad dash to escape the heat-seeking fleas, I had 32 blisters lining my body from neck to foot … most of them concentrated on my legs, some measuring the size of a dime.

At this point, frugality was a distant and silly thought. I found and booked a room at the Zurich Best Western, where - upon arrival - I wept with joy at the beautiful tub and shower, and the gorgeous, fluffy down beds.

We emptied the entire contents of our luggage into the bathtub, ensuring no fleas had hitched a ride north with us. Dream vacation saved, though bite scars still remain as a bittersweet reminder of our time under the hot Italian sun.

We do plan to eventually make it back to Venice …this time, however, we’ll be a bit more mindful of timing, in the hopes that we don’t arrive during an Italian flea-infested heat wave!

One-Year Blog Anniversary!

2009-06-26T17:00:00.000-07:00

Wow, this date snuck up on me! Hard to believe, but it is the one-year anniversary of my blog!!

In honor of this momentous (ha!) occasion, I'm sharing my very first blog post. I can guarantee none of you have read it, because - when I started this blog - I was scared to death of being 'out there' in the blog world and didn't tell a soul that I had started a blog!

OK ... I told one friend and one of my sisters, but that's it. And my husband, but that's a given.

It was a very covert marketing plan.

It wasn't until around October that I actually started truly trekking into the blog world ... perusing and discovering YOUR wonderful blogs!

So, here it is, originally posted on June 26, 2008:

Eau de Chicken Manure

It’s official. We have gone all-organic with our outdoor lawn fertilizer. After reading an article that all but pegged the rise in childhood leukemia cases to the use of common lawn fertilizers (due to certain ingredients that link back to ‘Agent Orange’ and other crazy stuff!), we switched cold-turkey.

Or should I say ‘cold-chicken’.

Maybe I should explain.

After reading the article and making the decision to switch, it just so happened that a well-known lawn care company appeared at our door offering a special introductory offer for lawn services, including fertilizing. They offered an organic alternative, so we decided to take them up on the lawn fertilization portion.

They came in the early-morning hours, leaving a little yard sign in the lawn as proof of their service.

It was a beautiful blue-sky day, and a comfortable breeze was pumping wonderfully fresh air through the windows and into the house. As I made my way down the stairs to grab a quick bite to eat, I noticed a stench that I couldn’t immediately identify. There was no one else in the house except me. I’d showered and – as far as I could tell – did not have a stench.

Wait a minute.

That is not exactly “fresh” air coming through those windows. That is the distinct smell of … chicken manure?

I quickly learned that chicken manure was the organic treatment used by the company and applied to our lawn that morning.

Mere minutes after my chicken manure ‘aha’ moment, I was back upstairs working diligently at my computer. And, with the window open, could hear a young voice, fairly close to our house, say, “Ooooh, it smells like dog poo!”

I hoped with all my might he wasn’t referring to our house, and quickly decided it was a good time to get the mail, allowing me the covert opportunity to investigate the smell from outside.

It did smell … but, truly, it wasn’t that bad.

I guess now it is just a matter of waiting to see if we ruffle the feathers (sorry!) of any neighbors with our au naturale fertilizer!

[Author note: A year later, we are still getting the same service and have noticed that it doesn’t even smell anymore after they apply the fertilizer. Though … we’re not certain our neighbors would say the same!]

Transported to France via "French by Heart"

2009-06-23T13:55:00.000-07:00

If I had to choose one word to sum up fellow blogger friend Rebecca Ramsey's memoir, "French by Heart: An American Family's Adventures in La Belle France", it would be ... delightful.

No, wait ... engaging.

And, hilarious.

But, really, truly just delightful.

And touching.

Oh ... and heartwarming.

But ... really, I'm sticking with delightful.

And, very charming.

And real.

And oh so delightful!

Maybe it's because I dream of someday living in Tuscany. I know, I know ... that's not in France, but it's a similar uprooting kind of experience so just go with me!

I lived in Europe once before, as a college student in Austria. But that was different. I took two suitcases; she took an entire house worth of furniture, cars, a cat, and three children!

I attended a college where all the classes were taught in English, save for the intensive German class; she had to send her three children off to a French-speaking grade school.

I lived in a flat with other American students and not once did I lay eyes on our fellow building neighbors; she lived in a house in the middle of a French neighborhood with very curious neighbors!

Reading Rebecca's account of their four years in France was a thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining experience. It was the last thing I read at night before drifting off to sleep. It was like being transported to life in France each night, after a crazy day.

It became my nightly respite. When it ended, I was not pleased. My nightly trip to la belle France was gone. Where was I to go now?!

How about Tuscany via "Under the Tuscan Sun" ... after all, that IS my goal destination!

Thank you, Rebecca, for kick-starting my summer reading travels with your refreshing and witty account of family life in France!

A Kind Hello

2009-06-16T11:49:00.000-07:00

(Chinese Symbol for Kindness)

I was waiting for my mocha when he walked in. An elderly gentleman, perhaps in his seventies. Seemingly fit and slim, impeccably-dressed, though casual, he wore a sweet smile as he looked up at the board offering the names and prices of the various concoctions. The barista greeted him and offered his assistance. The man smiled. And, for some reason, something about him tugged at my heart.

He seemed a bit lost in this hustle, bustle place … wanting to be a part of it, but not sure what to do.

Was he meeting someone? Was he widowed? Recently? Was he lonely? Did he come to this coffee shop hoping for a friendly smile, a kind word, or was I just reading too much into it?

As I grabbed my cup, thanked the barista, and headed out, I noticed he was now near the door. No drink in hand. His head was down as he worked to get the zipper on his jacket working. I wanted to know that he was taken care of, but it wasn’t really my place.

As I walked by, he looked up at me. His eyes were a beautiful, twinkling blue, but there was a hint of sadness … or maybe loneliness. I smiled and shared a cheerful “Hello!”

I wanted to say more. I wanted to see if he needed anything. But, that would be too forward, too presumptuous … or would it be exactly what he had needed on that very morning?

I left the shop, hoping my smile and simple ‘hello’ was enough.

Have you ever felt that tug at your heart or that lump in your throat just from watching someone that you didn’t even know, sensing there was a need beyond what you could see?

Brilliant Jan Brett

2009-06-09T11:47:00.000-07:00

If I'm counting correctly on my fingers and toes, it appears Jan Brett has written, retold, and/or illustrated over 35 books! Which brings one word to mind: "WOW!"

We own two of those 35+ ... "The Mitten", which is a Ukrainian Folktale she adapted and illustrated; and "The Three Snow Bears", a polar twist on the famed 'Goldilocks...' tale.

The stories are adorable. But, I could spend hours just looking at the lavish illustrations. They are phenomenal ... and make me wish I could illustrate!

They are also clever. Both stories feature illustrated foreshadowing, which I think is simply brilliant and is such an enticing element to a child (... and children at heart!).

For example ... in "The Mitten", on the left margin of each page, you see the main character - Nicki - going about his playful day, clueless that he has lost his white mitten in the snow and oblivious to the fact that he is being watched by the animals that will eventually crawl into that lost mitten. On the right margin of each page, you see the animal that will attempt to crawl into the mitten on the next page.

"The Three Snow Bears" applies that same concept with main character, Aloo-ki, as she simultaneously loses her dog sled team and discovers a lovely igloo, complete with a warm bowl of breakfast, comfy boots with a soft fur lining that fit her feet perfectly, and a cozy bed and pillow on which to rest. It just so happens the igloo belongs to a bear family, who saves Aloo-ki's huskies ... but is none-too-happy to find that she has eaten baby bear's breakfast, borrowed his boots, and is now resting peacefully in his bed!

If you are looking for classics to add to your bookshelf, these are a sure bet. Enjoyable to read over and over, and appealing for children and adults alike.

Happy reading!

“Little Piece of Heaven” Trumps Public Transportation

2009-06-02T15:32:00.000-07:00

It was never my forte to begin with … taking public transportation. I would like to say that I did it because it was good for the environment and cost-effective. This would be a lie. I did it because I lived and worked in Seattle, and had few other options that didn’t cost me the equivalent of a month’s wages.

Our Seattle office of, oh, 275 or so employees had approximately 17 spaces crammed into the teeniest of spaces between multiple cement beams in the dungeons under the building. Parking was given to those with more seniority than I had at the time. My name was permanently on the parking-spot waiting list, in the hopes that one of the lucky parking spot owners would have a business trip or take a vacation day and I could use their space.

My other option was public parking in the downtown Seattle garages. The cost was somewhat staggering, but I always felt it was worth it when I did it. I used it way too often. Please don’t judge. Let me explain. Truly, it wasn’t just because I got to sleep a bit longer. And, it also wasn’t because I considered my dear automobile (which was quite fuel-efficient and considered low-emission, by the way) to be my ‘little piece of heaven’, which I did.

Let me give you just one example of my typical bus ride from West Seattle into downtown, and maybe you’ll understand where I’m coming from.

My bus route originated in the – ahem – rougher part of a little town that bordered West Seattle. My lovely little apartment complex sat on the side of a hill on the east side of West Seattle in a sort-of-okay neighborhood. In the fall and winter, I would walk up the hill from my apartment to my bus stop, darkness surrounding me in the early morning hours, hoping no one was going to jump out of the bushes. My plan of attack, if that did occur, was to use my high heels as weapons.

My stop was one of the very last before crossing the bridge and heading into downtown, thus the bus was often quite full. One piece of advice I’d been given by a seasoned bus-riding co-worker was to never, ever sit in an empty seat if you had the option of sitting next to someone who looked like they might make a decent bus-traveling companion. Better you choose who you’re sitting next to, rather than someone choose for you! Wouldn’t have thought of that myself.

One morning, I climbed onto the bus to find it completely packed, save one seat next to a lady. Perfect. I smiled at her as I quickly sat down, noticing that she looked like she had had a rough night.

I could feel her stealing quick glances at me, most likely calculating my friendliness-level and debating whether she should ask me what she wanted to ask.

“Um … excuse me,” she started, “how does my make-up look?”

I turned my head to look at her. Oh dear. What to say … what to say.

“Well,” I said, making the motion of a finger-sweep under my own eye, “you’ve got something here … and here.” Technically, her eye-liner and mascara were smudged beyond repair under and to the sides of her eyes. I gently attempted to guide her as she rubbed it off her face.

“I’ve been up all night,” she offered, “I had to work late, and close, and then this guy wouldn’t leave …”

“Oh, I know,” I nodded understandably, “that’s so hard. Well, don’t worry, you look fine. I think you got everything rubbed off.”

I thought we were done.

“My hair is a mess,” she continued.

“I wouldn’t worry about it … it looks fine,” I continued to encourage, noticing that it was a bit matted in areas.

“Do you know how to French braid?” she asked.

Are you kidding me?

It was at this point that I had a serious debate in my head. I didn’t want to lie, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to braid her hair even more. Would she know I was lying? I mean … here she was, sitting next to a girl with long hair. What girl with long hair doesn’t know how to French braid? Well, technically, I never did learn to French braid very well … so, in principle, it wouldn’t be lying to just say I didn’t know how.

“No, sorry … I never did learn how to do that,” I responded. “I always wanted to though.”

I’m not exactly sure why I felt the need to add that last comment. Thankfully, it didn’t open up an offer from her to practice my French-braiding skills on her hair during our bus ride that morning, and the remainder of the commute was travelled peacefully.

So, there … just one of my many Seattle bus stories. And one of the reasons my ‘little piece of heaven’ trumped public transportation.

Calming Water

2009-05-27T10:33:00.000-07:00

I must admit, when I first packed up my apartment and headed south from Seattle, WA to Portland, OR ten years ago, I was reluctant and a bit teary-eyed. My bonus was going to be living with my hubby ... we'd been commuting between Seattle, where I worked, and Portland, where he worked, for four or five months. The I-5 corridor is lovely, but quickly gets old when you're driving it so very often! My company had an office in Portland ... thus, the reason for me making the move rather than hubby.

Anyone who has experienced the loveliness of Oregon might wonder why I was hesitant to make such a move. Both states are green and beautiful and filled with mountains and valleys and all sorts of natural wonders. And, Oregon is less ... drizzly!

It was the water. And, no ... not the variety of water descending from the sky.

Seattle sits between two major bodies of water ... the stunning Puget Sound to the west, and beautiful Lake Washington to the east. And, in and amongst those major bodies of water are more bays, rivers, lakes, and creeks than you can imagine. I had become accustomed to seeing crisp, blue water everywhere I went ... I biked along Lake Washington, and ran and walked along the Puget Sound. It was not only beautiful ... I found it completely calming.

And, here I was ... headed to a city with a river ... a single, not-always-so-blue river. Secretly, I wasn't pleased. Yes, there were lakes and creeks and all that stuff too ... but it just didn't seem as expansive ... as accessible.

But ... I quickly realized that I had increased my accessibility to the mother of all bodies of water ... the gorgeous Pacific Ocean. This made me quite happy. In under two hours, we could be at the beautiful Oregon Coast, playing on the soft-sand beaches. The roar of the ocean and the warmth of the sand - even when the air is chilly - tops my ultimate relaxation list!

We headed there this past Memorial Day weekend. It was perfect! Technically, the picture at the top of this post isn't from our most recent trip ... it's from last August, when it was a bit warmer and the water a bit sparklier from the sun's rays.

This breezy beach weekend, however, proved to be perfect for kite-flying! So, the stunt kite finally got a good workout!

And, as an added bonus ... we arrived home to find this beautiful first bloom on the clematis ... a perfect ending to a relaxing weekend!

An Encounter with a Wagon Full of Crankiness

2009-05-19T15:37:00.000-07:00

I called my doctor's office today, with the hope of getting my records transferred to a doctor a bit closer to where I live and work. The call went something like this:

Receptionist: "Hello, Dr. M's office, can you hold?"

Me: "Sure," in a cheery tone, thinking she would come right back.

One minute ... two minutes ... three ... four ... maybe I should hang up and call back later ... but, I just know she's going to come back soon ... five ....

Receptionist, slightly cranky: "She's with a patient, but she'll be done in just a minute if you could hold."

Me, confused but semi-cheery: "What?"

Receptionist, now perturbed: "She'll be done soon, if you could just hold for another minute, that's all."

Me, not sure we'd ever even discussed why I was calling: "Dr. M?"

Receptionist, getting crankier: "No ... the M.A."

Me, still trying to play the cheerful card and thinking that, surely, she must have me confused with another caller: "Oh, I just called to get my records transferred."

All-knowing and apparently telepathic receptionist: "Right ... the M.A. has to do that, so if you could just hold on one more minute, she's just finishing up."

Me: "Oh ... okay", I say to no one in particular since she has already put me back on hold.

Thankfully, the M.A. was as sweet as punch, and the remainder of the conversation went as I would have perceived it to go in the first place.

I used to tell our employees that everyone came to work each day somewhere along the continuum of overjoyed, content, or burdened by what was happening in their life at that moment; or what had happened that morning; or the evening prior. I likened it to pulling an imaginary "wagon" behind them ... the wagon might be filled with a combination of good, bad, and/or challenging things ... from their past, in process, or fresh from the morning commute. I knew that wagon played a huge part in that person's life.

There was a rule about that wagon, though ... it needed to be checked at the door when it came to talking with the customers/employees we served. The wagon-load - be it good stuff or bad stuff - was not their issue ... even when the customer wasn't being so pleasant (not easy!).

When I hung up the phone after my call, I initially couldn't help but think how rude and cranky the receptionist had been, and how her attitude could potentially hurt that doctor's business. But, then I started thinking about the wagon ... maybe she had received difficult news, or had a hectic morning getting the kids out the door and making it to work on time, or had more incoming calls and tasks than time available, or maybe - sadly - that's just the way she treated people.

No matter the reason ... her wagon was sitting front and center during her call with me. A wagon filled to the brim and translating over the phone into crankiness ... even to a customer talking nicely back to her.

Hoping your wagon and all those encountered today are full of good and pleasant things!

A Perfect Walk and Perfectly Charming Children's Board Books

2009-05-12T15:45:00.000-07:00

What a wonderful weekend! After weeks of torrential downpours, we had a gloriously sunny day ... perfect for a walk!

What better way to start out Mother's Day weekend, than with the American Cancer Society's Making Strides Against Breast Cancer Walk. This was our 8th year making the trek in honor of my mom (a survivor); in memory of my grandmother; and in honor of a dear friend of mine who just finished a year of grueling treatment. We had a great time breathing in the fresh, cool air ... and watching our son not only walk the 2.5 mile route ... but hop, skip, and jump through most of it!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I've written previously about children's book author, Karma Wilson. I hope to someday have a collection of entertaining published books to my name like the collection she has ... she truly is amazing! Her "Bear..." books, in particular, have been a consistent hit in our house ... always on our list of 'go-to' books.

Recently, I was lucky enough to win three of her children's board books. I was ecstatic! And, they came signed to my kiddos ... so cool!

The first two - "Hello, Calico" and "Uh-oh, Calico!" are absolutely adorable and charming. My 3-year old loves them, and the stories - told in very catchy rhymes - are fun for my 6-year old to read to his little sister. The illustrations (by Buket Erdogan) are a perfect combination of vivid color and sweetness.

The third book, "Beautiful Babies", is a touch-and-feel book that is beyond cute. Being a photography buff, I was excited to learn that Karma 'illustrated' the book herself, using pictures she had taken. What a thrill ... to write a book and illustrate it with your own photos! This book is perfect for babies, toddlers, and animal-loving preschoolers. My daughter flips through it, feeling the little animal noses, feathers, and fur, as she falls asleep at night.

If you have little ones or are looking for the perfect gift to give a preschooler, toddler, or baby ... you might want to check these out! They are sure to bring lots of smiles!

A Mother's Day Must-Listen

2009-05-07T17:00:00.000-07:00

Amy Grant, one of my very favorite singing, songwriting artists, has released a song for Mother's Day that I absolutely LOVE! If you have two minutes, please click 'play', sit back, and listen ... it's so worth it, whether you're a mother, daughter, sister, grandmother, father ... well, you get the idea!

"She Colors My Day" has an awesome melody and the most perfect words (which, despite the song's upbeatness, still managed to bring tears to my eyes!).

The music video (which I didn't think was supposed to be out until mid-May!) is below:

Could this song be any cooler? Well ... if you consider that Amy Grant and songwriters Cristina Carlino (Philosophy founder and creator) and Stuart Mathis are donating all artist and publishing royalties generated by the sale of the song "She Colors My Day" to the Entertainment Industry Foundation's Women's Cancer Research Fund ... then, yes!

Enjoy ... and a very Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there!