Category Archives: Storytelling

Ambition, Community, Dreams, Employment, Fashion, Inspiration, Life, Small Business, Storytelling

Moms and Pops

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In my online search for writing fodder, I learned that today is “National Mom and Pops Business Owners Day”.

Have you ever heard of this before? I’m guessing not. I hadn’t either.

Finding out about this national day made me think of my own “mom and pop”. I know I’ve mentioned in past blog posts that my parents, Bonnie and Babe, were small business owners for many years. A women’s clothing store, to be exact.

Prior to my parents ownership of the business, it had been known as “Kay’s Clothes Bar”, on account of the building’s history of housing, you guessed it, a bar.

The name, of course, was changed once my parents took it over.

A keepsake

How the store became theirs is remarkable.

When my mom, at 42, was gabbing with her girlfriends one day in 1979, one of them posed the question “if you could own your own business, what would it be?” Bonnie responded with “I would own Kay’s Clothes Bar”.

That was on a Thursday.

While out and about on that following Saturday morning, my dad called my mom and asked if she was serious about wanting to have a clothing store, and she said yes, she was indeed. Dad had learned that morning that “Kay’s” was up for sale.

So together they forged ahead with becoming small business owners. Dad was on strike from his job at the mining company at the time, so this venture was a huge leap of faith.

Me, at 16, posing in the store

Though Dad had a great mathematical mind, he hadn’t gone to college (neither did Mom). Fortunately that mattered not, because his pragmatism, work ethic, and desire to keep Mom happy worked in concert with his accounting skills to see them through 15 years of being successful small business owners.

One thing that Mom took pride in was her ability to remain current. I think she was a young soul, really, because of her committed interest in staying on top of things. On top of fashion trends, on top of the news of the day, on top of whatever was going on in our little town. She didn’t miss a thing.

She was a social being who was happiest among others. She loved visiting with her customers, creating beautiful displays to “wow” them, and sharing her fashion expertise.

I very much relate to these aspects of Bonnie. So much so that as I sit here writing this post, I’ve been periodically glancing out the window at our “man cave”, (the name will be changing to something that’s not a cliche), thinking up ways to decorate and furnish it as it is to be (at least in part) a fun gathering spot for neighborhood parties and family get-togethers.

Yet lately I’ve started day dreaming about what kind of business I could run in this space. You see, I’m slowly but surely honing in on what it is I’m going to do, work-wise. And there’s so much potential, right here. I could section off a portion of the building for an office for myself to pursue paid creative writing projects or open it up as a non-profit food pantry. Or do something altogether different with this space.

At the risk of sounding like a total flake here, I believe that while I fancy the notion of operating my own small business, I can’t say definitively that working for someone else is out of the question for me. For the right job, the one in which I can use the skills I possess to help others, I would consider being someone’s employee again.

Of course, that would be the easy choice. Much less risky.

It makes me wonder, what would Bonnie and Babe think?

So, I’ve given myself a project this spring. I’m having a garage sale. Over the last several weeks, I’ve been methodically going through all of our stuff and determining what we no longer need. I’ve been going on Pinterest for ideas on how to put on the best garage sale possible.

I figure this is a good way for me to practice having a small business. It also gives me something to focus on as the time I have to spend watching our grandson lessens.

But back to Bonnie and Babe.

I don’t think I realized until the last few years just how much my parents teamwork and individual contributions as small business owners shaped who I am as an adult. How I think, what I dream about, and how I want to live in community with others.

My hard-working parents had so many adventures together in mid-life on account of being small business owners. Financially, they were successful at it, putting me through college and funding their vacations both inside and outside the U.S.

But perhaps even more importantly, they enjoyed running the store together. They took pride in it. They developed meaningful friendships they may not have otherwise developed. They made a positive impact on our community.

Back when I was going through pictures, just prior to moving back to Wisconsin from Colorado last year, I came upon a treasure. It was a clipping from our hometown newspaper of an article about my parents as they were fixing to close up shop and retire.

Retirement came a few years earlier than they had planned, as a dispute with the owner of the building over the lease had developed. They came to the conclusion that it was time to close up shop as a result.

However, Bonnie and Babe retained their great attitudes, with Bonnie commenting to the reporter in the article “As unfortunate as this is, it’s not a tragedy; no one’s dying, we still have each other”. To which Babe responded “if this is as tough as it gets, we’ve got it made”.

Cheers to all of you small business owners out there on this national day. May your customers be loyal, may you stay the course, and may you flourish!

Dogs, Humor, Imagination, Joy, Love, Storytelling

Simply the Best Mutt

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This post is for those of you who have adopted a rescue mutt at some point in your lives, without knowing much about them beyond where they were rescued from, their supposed breeds, and their approximate age.

Do you ever wonder what their origin story is?

I do. And I have a theory about what Radar’s is.

Radar showing off his newest favorite toy, that moments before was covered in cloth.

What am I sure of? That before he came to Colorado, he was loved by someone else. I say that because of his sweet nature and love of all people he encounters.

This is the point in this post where I was going to tell you a clever, heartwarming story I made up about the newlywed couple that were his first “hoomans” who named him “Goofy”. These two crazy kids broke up for a time, then got back together when they were a united front trying to find him after he ran away amidst the devastating flood that hit the Houston area in the spring of 2019. They didn’t find him but “found” each other again. And of course they learned that the wife was pregnant and then they proceeded to live happily ever after, though often wondered what became of Mr. Goofy.

Instead of that, however, I’m just going to tell you all that Radar the dog ought to be the first of many dogs to compete under the category of “Mutt” at the Westminster Dog Show.

I know that the WDS does have the “All American” category of dogs; however from what I understand these dogs only compete in the “Agility” competitions. What I’m talking about is adding more diversity to the mix. Making it more inclusive, if you will.

There would be no agility tests. No checking their dental health. No showcasing the dogs’ levels of obedience.

Instead, the mutts would be judged on things like how long each dog does the “zoomies” after bathtime. You know, when they get out of the bathtub and run around like tasmanian devils, rubbing their wet furry bodies on every possible surface?

They would be judged on how cute their expressions are when their parent excitedly says the mutt’s favorite word or phrase, like “Treat?” or “Who wants to go for a walk?”

And of course, they’d be judged on their best, most unique tricks.

It’d probably have to be its own show, though, because the folks at the Westminster Dog Show take their shit very seriously.

Reminder to self: watch that movie “Best in Show”, stat.

Speaking of shit…a couple of weeks ago, Hubs was off in Wisconsin for the week, leaving me home alone with Radar-ling.

Here’s what happened on one of our neighborhood walks that week:

We ran out of poop bags and I wanted to avoid the nearest poop bag dispensing thing in our community garden area because there was a dog with their human and I didn’t want to have to deal with Radar going completely nutso and pulling me down and causing a ruckus. Because of course this has happened before.

I know there was an angel watching over me as I managed to walk the distance back to our house with one neuropathic (I have hereditary peripheral neuropathy) hand holding the leash and the other carefully holding a pile of poop mixed with grass and dry leaves in a used Kleenex found in my coat pocket, without Radar bolting ahead and pulling me down to the ground where most certainly his poop would have wound up somewhere on my person.

Truth be told, I am the more hands-off doggy parent, as for the most part, Hubs takes the lead with getting him out for walks, giving him baths, and making sure he’s fed. I am the “fun” parent. The one who plays with him, curls up with him on the couch and has lively one-sided conversations with him.

I was nervous as the time grew closer to me being on my own with him. Sure, I am capable of taking him out for walks and all of the other stuff Hubs usually does as the more responsible pet parent. It’d just been so long since it was just the two of us.

Well, it turned out that the professional training we three participated in when we first adopted him, coupled with Hubs continuing to reinforce that training when taking him out for walks, paid off.

I was proud to report to Hubs when he returned home that Radar was a very good boy the whole time he was gone.

My Radar-ling is just simply The Best.

Entertainment, Facebook, Gems, Inspiration, Lifestyle, Positivity, Sharing, Storytelling

Hometown Gem

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Her name is Stephanie Himango and this is, ironically, the second time I’ve written about her in my life.

Stephanie and I both grew up in the small town of Two Harbors, Minnesota. She was two years below me in school. For that reason and the fact that she was sporty and I was most certainly not, we did not have any real interaction with each other. As far as I can remember anyway (this was like 35 years ago, folks).

As a senior at our long ago demolished high school that sat atop a hill, I was co-editor of the school newspaper. That extra-curricular sparked a passion in me for creating something out of nothing. A passion for written communication. One of my pieces then was about Homecoming. And in that piece I reported that Stephanie, as a sophomore, was in the Homecoming Court. I came upon that long forgotten factoid about a month ago when I was searching through a box of memorabilia, hoping to find pictures of Christmases past.

The reason I mention any of this at all is because in the summer of 2020 she accepted my friend request on Facebook. I had been made aware through mutual friends that over the years that Stephanie had made quite a name for herself career-wise. That she had a long career in the news industry, even winning a couple of Emmys as a writer and producer. She is also a published author.

Shortly after we became Facebook friends, Stephanie announced on social media that she was beginning her first ever podcast, entitled “Another Door Opens with Stephanie Himango”.

Stephanie promoted her podcast as being one in which she would interview a wide array of people from varying backgrounds to share their stories of overcoming life’s struggles and what, and as she says in each episode, “if anything”, the phrase “Another Door Opens” means to them personally. As if anyone she would interview would actually say that phrase means nothing to them! But that little qualifier exemplifies to me the genuine respect she has for her interviewees. She does not make any assumptions about them. She asks interesting questions and her enjoyment of asking them comes across through her voice as real and true.

So, as you can clearly see, I subscribed to Stephanie’s podcast. Stephanie interviewed everyone from a man who works as a sketch artist at SCOTUS to a veterinarian who treats pets of those experiencing homelessness to a woman who owns and runs her family’s pumpkin farm and much more. After listening to all of the episodes via Spotify (as of last week), I can tell you I’ve learned so much. I’ve been inspired. I’ve laughed. My eyes have been opened up about all the good stuff that people are out there doing with their lives. Kind of like David Byrne from the Talking Heads, who I wrote about here. Listening to Stephanie’s podcast brightened my days in the bananas year that was 2020.

Thanks for that, Stephanie. You are a Gem and I look forward to listening and learning from your podcast in the New Year. Maybe someday if we happen to be in our sweet little hometown (which in my opinion is home to lots of other interesting and inspiring people-maybe it’s something about that perfectly ice cold tap wonder we drank, courtesy of Lake Superior) at the same time, we will bump into each other. That’d be cool.

I encourage all of you reading this to check out “Another Door Opens with Stephanie Himango” and listen, learn and gain inspiration along with me.

I’ve no idea who this pretty young girl is, but I love the beautiful pictures of my home state and remember this song from my youth. Dontcha love the sound of the loons? The Minnesota state bird!
Blogging, Gems, Home, Humor, Kindness, Lifestyle, Positivity, Shopping, Storytelling

Going Straight to Gems

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For those of you who have been following my blog for a while, you may recall me mentioning the term “Gems”. I believe I at least alluded to my plan for writing about “Gems” on an ongoing, regular basis in a recent post.

The reason I’m bringing it up now is because I am ready to start this series.

One small thing that you ought to know about this new endeavor of mine is that I have decided to go against what I said here about who “Gems” are to me. After thinking about it for a bit, I realized there is no good reason to exclude those of the male persuasion from being a “Gem” that I write about in this little blog.

I mean, not everything I think, say or feel (or publish) is written in stone. I’m subject to change (fyi-the original title for this blog). Isn’t that a good thing?

So here I go. I’m going to start with a recent “Gem” story. Diving in here.

I have been a fan of the online shopping site Etsy for several years now. I love the act of thoughtfully purchasing a handmade gift for those I love. Because unfortunately, unlike Bonnie and Rabbie (both Gems to me), I possess little talent with arts and crafts. And I love to support small businesses and artists.

I started shopping for gifts on Etsy back when I lived in Wisconsin, in our “Grandma house” on 30th St.

Fast forward to now. Living in Colorado. Still ordering on Etsy when the moment strikes. So I’ve got some wall space that needed to be filled in my living room. I found the perfect item on Etsy and placed the order.

A couple of weeks passed and I thought to myself “it should be here by now”. Then I got a call from Linda, the realtor who sold us our house on 30th St., then 2 years later sold that house for us to a nice divorced woman named Kathy.

Linda said that Kathy called because she received a large package via Fed Ex for me. Kathy wanted to know our phone number so she could contact us and figure out how to get the package to us in Colorado.

Oh my! I was embarrassed, as it was then I realized that in my excitement about obtaining this particular wall art, I apparently failed to notice that the address box checked for shipping was the one on 30th St. and not the one here in Colorado (that address on my Etsy account has since been deleted). Of course I told Linda to please give my number to Kathy and we’ll work it out from there.

So Kathy calls me. She noted it was a big package and it came from Lithuania! I told her that I loved shopping on Etsy for handmade items like this and apologized for my screw-up. She said she spoke to Fed Ex and they told her the easiest thing to do is just have them ship it to me. I told her she could go ahead and just return it to sender and I’d re-order it. I didn’t want her to go through any hassle.

Her response? She said it was no big deal, she was going somewhere that Friday and she would pass by Fed Ex so she would just send the package to me. I thanked her profusely and told her that I’d reimburse her the cost.

So how nice is this lady? She’s a gem, that is what she is. In our conversation, we talked about how much we both loved that little old house. She updated me on the next door neighbors, who now have a baby who is just starting to walk. She said she regularly sees the neighbors who lived across the street, Larry and Helen, at the assisted living facility where she works. They sold their cute little house, where they lived for 35 years and raised their 5 kids, shortly after we sold ours and moved out to Colorado. Kathy also shared that after seeing *now* her house her friends declared that the large unfinished basement was the perfect party spot. She said every year now she hosts a Euchre tournament there on New Year’s Eve.

I loved hearing all of this. I love knowing how much she loves and appreciates that sweet little house that was once ours.

About a week after our last conversation, I received my lovely new handmade wall art and put it up above our living room couch. I sent Kathy a check to reimburse the $19 she paid to have it sent to me. I included a gift card to Olive Garden that I had won in a silent auction last year. It was the least I could do.

Me, perched on my couch this weekend under my lovely new Etsy wall art
Anxiety, Blogging, Books, Creative Writing, Facebook, Humor, Irony, Life, Middle Age, Self-Reflection, Storytelling

Alphabet Soup Challenge: I is for Indecisiveness

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I have an almost finished post about how “I” is for “Investment”. It’s about how I’ve been trying to do a better job of investing in myself. Using my time, emotional, physical, and spiritual energy to improve myself.

Investing in myself translates to intentionally going out for walks most mornings, which gives me a lift and helps to collect my thoughts about the day ahead. This investment also includes talk therapy via telephone with a behavioral health counselor. As well as doing more personal journaling and intentionally consuming entertainment that gives me the good feels. I’m feeling better about myself these days. That’s the gist of it.

The it occurred to me that dedicating an entire post to how I, as a privileged white upper-middle aged woman, was “investing” in myself was a bit too much. Too self involved.

That’s when the anxiety I experience on the daily crept into my brain and manifested itself into another “I” word of which I am quite familiar: “indecisiveness”. Because now what “I ” word am I going to pontificate about? There’s so many choices, I can’t possibly decide on which one.

There’s “irony”, which I have a little story about. I mentioned in a recent post how I was reading “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle in which I found some pearls of wisdom that resonated with me. Well, I finished that book several weeks ago. In one of the two all female Facebook groups I belong to, one of the admins posted a picture of herself looking all cute and holding up “Untamed”, notifying us that there was going to be a Facebook live video discussion of the book on Wednesday night at 6:30 p.m. In a moment of impulsivity, I replied that I would plan on attending.

I had been thinking for a while that I wanted to gain more experience with using video communication, both with friends and family, but also with people that I only know online, not IRL as they say. Zoom and Facebook Live are the tools du jour in the age of Covid-19, and I suspect that will only grow just like the amount of time we will be compelled to stick close to home.

Wednesday rolled around. I remembered about this “happening” about 5:30 p.m., after imbibing in a couple of cocktails. Supper wasn’t quite ready. Kid #2 was out at the local Hookah bar and about to come home soon. I was anticipating Kid #1 calling me at any time based on a message she had sent me earlier in the day. I had taken all my make up off, revealing just how “53” I looked. I hemmed and hawed, thinking about putting on some makeup, fluffing up my hair, grabbing “Untamed” and just doing it anyway.

Then Kid #2 came in the door, greeted by a very happy Radar-ling and his slinky sidekick Karl the cockeyed cat. I felt happy. Relaxed. I let myself off the hook and decided “Nah”.

After having intermittent pangs of guilt mixed with a side of regret about flaking out on this experience throughout that evening and into the next morning, I checked Facebook and learned that the admin hadn’t been feeling well the night before so she cancelled the event. Whew!

Now that’s irony. All that worry for nothing. Ha!

I am very tempted to continue this post with anecdotes on other “I” words that I have a lot to say about like “imagination”, “inspiration”, and “intention”.

However, I’m going to instead head on back to my “A-Z” draft folder and work through my indecisiveness surrounding the remaining letters of the alphabet I have to write about to complete this self-imposed challenge.

And leave you with one of my favorite Alanis Morrisette tunes.

**Header image courtesy of http://www.uniquelyandbrilliantlyadorned.com/2015/10/lets-talk-about-indecisiveness.html

Death, family, Grief, Humor, Life, Love, marriage, Storytelling

Happy Anniversary to B&B

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Last Friday was my parent’s 62nd wedding anniversary. Remembering this brought on a feeling of sadness that I haven’t felt since they passed on from this life.

My dad, Babe, passed almost two years ago now. My mom, Bonnie, followed suit one year, one week, and one day after that.

None of us can claim with any scientific certainty that heaven exists. But I believe there is another dimension where our souls land once our earthly bodies cease to be.

It gives me comfort to envision my parents together in this dimension.

I like to think that Mom is not in any pain whatsoever. That she can walk and move with ease. That Dad’s mind is all there. That he doesn’t feel angry or confused or frustrated with himself. That in this other dimension he exists as the person he was prior to the fall where he hit his head. The hard hit to his noggin that eventually led to a diagnosis of dementia.

He wouldn’t be holding Mom’s purse, because she doesn’t need one anymore.

That was one of the things about these two, Bonnie and Babe: he accepted her shopaholic tendencies while holding her purse from store to store.

Bonnie and Babe made an impression on people wherever they went. In many ways, they were opposites. In some ways, they were two of a kind.

They were social creatures. They loved to have other people around to “BS” with. To feed. To take care of. To travel with. To celebrate with. I’m grateful for that aspect of marriage they modeled for me and Hubs.

Bonnie and Babe; separate, yet together, circa 1970 or thereabouts

I didn’t know it till I was 14 that Mom and Dad met when my brother was just a toddler. I loved that my Dad had love in his heart for a boy who was not his own. He married Mom in 1958 and legally adopted Craig shortly thereafter. I suspect that he faced judgement about it from my Grandma Pearl, but ironically she grew to love and depend on my Mom more than probably anyone else in our family.

I love that Bonnie and Babe were hard workers. They always had so much energy and together they created so much for the enjoyment of so many.

I love that they were spontaneous. One day, out of the blue from my perspective, they decided to start a business. Despite working full time and then some, Dad agreed to Mom’s proposition that they buy out our small town’s women’s clothing store. It had been a bar years before. They decided to call it “Bonnie’s Clothes Bar”.

With Dad taking care of the books and Mom doing running the store for several years, I was able to attend college without any of us taking on any debt. That is something they were very proud of.

Bonnie and Babe were always very physically affectionate with each other. I remember cringing as a pre-teen while Dad would lovingly call Mom “Mama Buns” (she had an ample ass for much of her adult life). They held hands on the regular.

I remember a story they told about their first trip to Europe. It was an extremely hot and humid day in England (or France? I wasn’t present). They were waiting outside for a ride to take them to a museum or something. Dad spied an ice cream truck and made a bee-line for it. Came back to Mom and sat down on a bench next to her.

Dad was savoring the sweet cold deliciousness and Mom asked for a lick. He obliged. Within two seconds she was asking for another lick. He again obliged. A few more seconds pass and she’s asking again. He said something to the effect of “Why don’t you get your own” to which she responded with “Now Babe, I just wanted one more lick”, then proceeded to berate him for his complaint.

This pushed Dad over the edge. He took the remainder of that ice cream cone and smashed it on her chest, creating a cold, sticky mess all over her top. I wish I could have seen the look on her face. The face she made just before the two of them erupted into laughter.

My Mom and Dad’s song. They have gone down in history when we want to see how true love should be.
Adventure, Ambition, Anxiety, Blogging, Clarity, Creative Writing, Life, Motherhood, Secrets, Storytelling, Women

Passwords and Other Secrets

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Recently I changed my primary work password to “GOODJuJu!!”

And I don’t care that you all know it now. What on earth would you do with it anyway? Break into my office, type it in and read my totally uninteresting emails? Go ahead, knock yourself out.

I think this is the best password I’ve ever come up with. Every time I type it in, I remind myself that my daily goal is to spread light in all my interactions with others. Not like I achieve that goal on the regular. But I try nevertheless.

Since I’ve shared my work password, it makes sense to follow the thread of spilling secrets. Tell you about the stuff that I’ve been doing to gain clarity for myself as an ambitious and creative writer.

Don’t get too excited. It’s all really just baby steps. But I think they still count for something.

First secret: I partook in David Sedaris’ Master Class online for Storytelling and Humor. Truth be told, I signed up for this class because of the “storytelling and humor” part-not so much for David Sedaris. I can’t say that I don’t like him, I do; it’s just that I knew of him but hadn’t read anything he has written. Still haven’t, actually.

Signing up for this class was something I did to help me learn in more detail how I can improve my creative writing. My ability to tell humorous stories that people can relate to and appreciate. It was a purely selfish investment that I decided to make in myself. And I have no regrets.

I had have great interest in interacting with the “community” within this online class. I’ve introduced myself, entered a piece of my writing in a contest even. The prize in this contest is David’s feedback on your piece. I think it’s safe for me to assume that I’m not going to win. And this is not me feeling sorry for myself or me being fake humble. My life is too good and blessed for that shit.

I’m not a great writer. I might be, someday. Or not. Either way, the joy writing gives me will not be overtaken by feelings of self-doubt about my ability to grow my readership on this blog or elsewhere.

I would estimate that it took me 3 hours, within the span of 5 days, to decide which piece I should enter for this contest. That’s how I found “Grammerly”, because in order for my piece to be accepted for consideration, it had to be under 600 words.

“Grammerly” also informed me that my piece was at an 11th to 12th grade level. So clearly, there’s room for improvement.

After doing a bit of editing on the piece I chose, I gave it a couple of days, then went back in to see the one comment made on my piece. It was “I feel like there’s too much information in this piece. I’d like to see it pared down to it’s bare bones”. He was spot on. I veer into the rabbit hole of verbosity in both my speech and my writing.

Whether or not I go back in, make some major edits and re-submit is up in the air. I honestly don’t know if that’s even allowed or appropriate. Or maybe it’s expected?

For now, though, I just want to share what struck me most from being a student of this class. The following is taken directly from the notes I made to myself as I participated in this class and worked through the accompanying workbook.

David’s “work spaces”. Loved the imagery. Made me think that I could write about my ideal work space. Like a “she shed” type deal.

Tuning into your surroundings will open you up to moments that could become stories and the parts of your world that belong in your writing.

“I don’t like to write about people I don’t like”. I concur, David. Neither do I. So I won’t. Period. Hopefully this declaration doesn’t come and bite me in the ass later.

David has a conversation with every person in line at his book signings. He also writes thank you letters. He’s such a nice boy.

Take incidents and stitch them together for a story. I love the creative reference of stitching. Also, following threads. And rabbit holes.

Paint a mental picture in a readers head. Go to readings?? David said he learned a lot from doing this. A lot about what not to do, that is.

Now onto my second secret (or is it my third? That’s subjective, I suppose): During the time I was taking this class, I received an email announcing spring 2020 dates for the Listen to Your Mother shows.

Let me back up for a sec: I first heard about this annual event in 2016 from a local-ish “mommy” blogger named Stephanie. Essentially, LTYM is a franchise that is locally produced in various cities in the U.S. Primarily women get up on a stage and read original pieces on the theme of “Motherhood”. A percentage of the proceeds from ticket sales goes to charity.

I instantly loved this whole concept. The idea of others sharing their personal stories about motherhood, a topic dear to my heart and which I have much to say about, really intrigues me. I knew I wanted to be a part of it, someway, somehow.

So, with David encouraging me to do readings, I started considering applying to be part of the cast. I congratulated myself recently when I realized that I could simply click on the “word cloud” I have featured on my blog’s front page and read all the posts I have written on one particular topic.

But then after reading the few posts I have published that featured “Motherhood” and then proceeded to view video clips of past LTYM speakers, I was overcome with self-doubt. I mean, if this is is all I’ve got to offer and these are examples of my potential “competition” why the hell should I proceed?

Now is the part of this post where you might expect me to say something along the lines of “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” or “What’s the worst that could happen?”. Both of which are 100% true.

However, while I’m not closing the door to auditioning for LTYM, I’m also not necessarily doing it this year. At least not with any of the pieces about motherhood I have published on this blog.

I think it’d be wise to heed David’s advice: attend readings. For me, it’ll be the LTYM show this spring. See what it’s like. Take notes. Make some connections.

Baby steps, right?

Ambition, Blogging, Creative Writing, Employment, Happiness, Inspiration, Self-Care, Storytelling

My last blog post for 2019: What are you ISO?

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Man, I love myself a good acronym. Almost as much as a finely crafted mantronym (for those of you new to this blog, that’s a mantra that presents as an acronym).

The first time I saw “ISO” it was on a work email. One of the other social workers was “ISO” something or other. Probably a way to get rid of bed bugs, because that is the type of shit we had to help our clients with on a disturbingly regular basis. I had to read the body of the email before I understood that “ISO” was “in search of”.

My personal theory is that we are all “ISO” pretty much all the time. It might be a lost sock or cell phone. It might be recommendations for a dog walker. It might be for the best cheesecake recipe. Or it might be something deeper; like meaning, purpose, or peace. Or maybe a little bit of all of the above and more.

This song comes to mind as I’m writing this. I happened to hear a truly awesome version of it recently as I was tooling around in my CRV. Here it is:

I have gratitude for the fact that in this life I have found what I was looking for: a happy marriage, a place to call home, two awesome adult children, a grandson, a dog, and a career that have all brought me a lot of happiness.

But there’s still more I’m ISO.

What might that be? Well, a whole bunch of things honestly. But what it boils down to more than anything is balance.

Balance between writing/doing/connecting is what I’m searching for in 2020. Maybe I should christen 2020 as my year of Clarity. I need to avoid the “overwhelm” and remain rooted in the present, in my writing life, professional life, and personal life.

One of the major take-aways for me from 2019 is that working is highly important to me. Working at my part time job running the food bank. Working on my writing; improving my blogging skills. Working on strengthening the connections I have with the people I love and making new connections with those people I have yet to meet. I like staying busy, moving forward, accomplishing things.

What I know for sure about 2020 is that it’s incumbent upon me to work even harder that I did in 2019. Up my game at work. Find ways to improve myself professionally. So that I can contribute more to the team, to our clients, to our mission.

Another thing I know for sure about 2020 is that I will need to hyper-focus on my writing via this blog (and otherwise, but that is currently a batch of baby WIPS that will need some careful coaxing to show themselves to the world).

Suffice it to say: I have much to say about a variety of things-from my personal history, my current reality and the (hopefully) fabulous future. I have stories to tell. I have more to say about some of the topics I brought up on this blog in 2019. I have more to do and say in and about the present. And I have a freaking ton to say about the future.

While all of the above is true and right and good for me personally, I recognize that I can’t blow off taking care of myself. Because in real day to day life of the year 2020, there’s gonna be obstacles. Some I am fully cognizant of and others will be new and uninvited. So while I don’t anticipate becoming a self-care guru (because really, we have so many of them we can refer to on the internets and in real life if we are so fortunate), behind the scenes of this here blog, I will be aiming to practice a healthy amount of it.

I sincerely hope you stay tuned.

But first, please indulge me and answer this question in the comments:

What are you ISO in 2020? This particularly curious mind would love to know.