What Have You Learned This Year?

And just in time for Mother's Day . . .

Visit my Mother's Web AudreyFrankAuthor

My mother posted the following on her blog today. She is an author and a role model and taught us we could do anything at any age. Health issues have slowed her down this year - but not so much with her writing, as she has a new novella on Amazon. But it has slowed her down to getting out of the house and being active to do the things she likes.

As I approach my eighty-seventh birthday, I find myself asking have I learned anything this past year? Yes, I have – patience. Patience to endure pain and not feel sorry for myself. Humility and gratitude for the friends who have had the guts to stick by me even when I knew they didn't want to listen to another gripe. My best friend, Claire, (my adopted sister) should get a medal for bravery in the face of turmoil. I have also reached that point in my life when I realize: who matters, who never did. I have stopped worrying about people from my past. There's a reason they aren't in my future. I can never be the person I was, but I can make the effort to be the best I am at this point in my life. Thanks to my daughters Barbara and Pam. They are the joy of my life. Thank you. Lord, for carrying me through the worst of times. If I'm lucky, I'll still be around to celebrate next year.

I kid her we are living in parallel universes. My health has slowed me down this year, I am getting ready to launch a picture book this weekend, and I have hip replacement surgery scheduled for next week. I am out of sync with my normal life, too. It is so hard to walk. Everyone tells me surgery will make me a new person again. I hope so.

We are both learning patience, although, me not so much!

Last week I chatted with a realtor to let her know I want to sell my house as soon as I have had time to get on my feet after surgery and physical therapy. It is not a listing -just a heads up my house could be for sale. For some reason knowing I have put those vibes out to the universe makes it easier for me to relax and do what I have to do the next weeks. If it is meant to be, well, so be it. Someone knows I can be had - well, my house can be had! I am working on what needs to be done the week before surgery; letting the universe know I am ready to sell my house and finding the right flattering attire for physical therapy. I don't own sweat pants or T-shirts for working out. I found the cutest leggings (large size so I can slip in and out without trouble) and tops at Marshalls this weekend so I can be the PT fashionista. As I laughed with a friend. I am not vain. I don't think I look that great - but I know how bad I can look, and prefer not to share that with the world. In pain in pink sounds easier to deal with, too.

My Chinese fortune cookie the first of the year told me all I needed to know. My dreams will come true by the end of this year!

But what is that dream, exactly. I am fickle and it changes with regularity. Right now, as I sit and visualize the days ahead, I see a charming farmhouse, an hour outside of Atlanta, on an acre or two of land (just like the farmhouse in my novel, Danger In Her Words).  A house that will work for me and with me. A writing center with classes, book club meetings, rooms and a cottage to rent to writers who want a picturesque retreat at a nominal fee for their writing getaway. Rooms for friends to visit. A place my mom can move too when she is ready to leave St. Augustine.  A safe haven for my six dogs. It is something I can do, not outside the realm of possibilities, even though my few pain meds let me see this dream in Technicolor!

We all have dreams. Miss April in Paris, one of my dogs from a local shelter, dreams of visiting Paris, the city that shares her name. Her diary, A Dog Dreams of Paris, will be available on Amazon later this month. It is a charming picture book designed by PD King Design. Not a children's picture book, but a book for those who dream at any age.

I hope you will check out my mother's website and books. She writes romantic novellas about people that could be your neighbors! Unlike me, the writer with dogs!

The years pass so quickly. Some we have control of, some control us. I think my mother hit it in her post. I can make the effort to be the best I can at this point in my life. As always, she is an inspiration to me to be my best, no matter what, to be thankful for what I have, and, because of her encouragement over all these years, to dream big.

Everyday is an opportunity to learn something new. What have you learned this year? I love to share stories on how we grow!

Rambling as I like to do, I come back to how I started this most - in time for Mother's Day . . . Happy Mother's Day, Mom! Love you.

 

A Happy Thanksgiving

Macy's Parade, 1967

Ok - I am the first to admit it. It is hard for me to get away from dogs. So for this Thanksgiving post it seemed so appropriate to share a photo found on the web of the Macy's parade, 1967. The six-pack of hounds here support my use of this vintage image. And who doesn't love Snoopy!

It is early yet, and I am at my computer as always. Sun is peeking through the overcast sky. It is a dice roll, the weather today. It will be sunny in my heart, no matter what.

The dogs have become simply impossible in the morning. I have no clue what has caused them to be so active at 7am. They are like children who have eaten too much sugar. Miss April in Paris jumps off the bed, all sixty pounds of her, racing up and down the hallway, barking, non-stop. Her call to action rallies the other five, who hit the floor, running to the kitchen, waiting for kibble. I drag myself out and putter down the hallway, let them out via the kitchen door, into the yard. I make a cup of instant coffee (yes, sometimes I am the laziest gal in town) and get their bowls ready. As soon as they eat, they crash. They are back to sleep and I am wide-eyed awake. It is a good time to write.

What am I thankful for this year? Everything. I started out the year thinking I needed a huge change in my surroundings. The change I needed was inside me. A reflective year, as I've written about before today on this blog. Health issues, some cash-flow issues, and the desire to be in a different house, in a different state, so far from all that is familiar here. Part of that draw to move, was to be closer to my family. The other part, I had no clue what to do now, six years a widow, in my quiet world. I pushed so hard to find a new life, I didn't know how to relax.

I'd forgotten how lucky I was with my friends here and my family's love only a phone call away. In six years on my own I had found myself. How did I not remember that? Maybe I needed a bit of a shake-up, and this hip of mine, which has slowed me down, allowed me to just be.

Yes, my hip grinding as I walk (and the doctor telling me there is a hip replacement in my future - which I am ignoring for now) has kept me from participating in things that require me to be on my feet for hours at a time. When I hurt, I lay down and relax. Relaxing has given me the time to think. And thinking has made me grateful for all the goodness around me It has cleared my mind to forge a new path, one right where I am for the time being. That does not mean I might not shake-it up later, but for now, I am where I need to be.

I may be slow with my walking, but it hasn't slowed me down for other things I love - like writing, sleeping with dogs, dinner with friends, too much time on the computer, which is like an extension of my body. I have a new project that will launch on Tuesday.

A Cup Of Christmas, an e-book with thirty other writers, is a dream come true. In six weeks it pulled together. Once again, my heart was thankful for the trust these authors have I can actually do this and the spirit in which they participated - they were paid nothing for their time and all proceeds go to First Book, a children's literacy charity. Writers giving back.  I've met these folks - some in person, some on Facebook, all linked together in the world of books, in the last six years as I started to write and find myself. I almost missed that I have a writing community of friends that are part of my new world, as I worried I was more alone this year than ever. Silly me.

And something new in the last month, I am going to church. There is a Methodist church on the corner that I've wanted to visit for thirty years. I finally told myself it was time. The sermons are short ( as is my attention span) and relevant to today's world. The pastor is charming and young, breathing life into the church this last year, and into me this last month.  I found a writing group that meets there. On my first Sunday visit, the bulletin announced  they meet there once a week. All of this two minutes from my house. Perfect for the gal who can't get anywhere on time. I can scoot out of my house at the very last minute and find my seat before the service begins.

I look back on this year and wonder what is it that made me so restless. I have wonderful friends, some that go back with me thirty plus years, some new that seem like old souls that connected years ago. I've dwelled on the fact I live by myself, no children, no family in town, dissecting that issue in my writing.  I have my six dogs that are my family here. They ground me on days I feel I may explode into the universe with stress and loneliness.  On days when the world is right, I sit on my couch and look at the six-pack surrounding me, and know I have created this life, different from what I had when married, but one that matches my needs. How did I almost forget that?

Family, friends, community, a passion to connect to others, my writing, a house that holds all my memories of a life well-lived, and a life that continues to grow. That is what I am thankful for today.

Yes, the dogs are glaring at me. I forgot to include them in the statement above. I am so happy to have my six-pack.  They are a group of hooligans, but they bring life to a house that could be too quiet. They remind me a broken spirit can be healed with love. They teach me that the simple things are what count. They teach me to enjoy the moment. They make me laugh out loud and be silly. They remind me, that eating lots of food is a good thing! And I will chow down with friends later today!

Wishing all a wonderful Thanksgiving! May you be as happy as a pup with its head out the car window, inhaling all that life has to offer.



 

Garden Daze With Dogs

I have a bunch of lazy dogs. They take after me.  On a lovely spring day you most likely will find us lounging in the house rather than out in the beautiful weather. It's not the pollen, not the heat, we are just a pack of sluggish hounds.

Snuggling on the couch under the ceiling fan is very relaxing. Looking out the large picture window in the living room, at the sloping yard that ends with a natural picket fence by the street, the grass speckled with sun as its rays push through the branches of tall pines, and the huge expanse of ground that rounds to the right of way, makes it a bucolic setting. Restful.

Who wants to get up and move? I wasn't always so lazy myself, but hanging out with six dogs is a great stress reducer, and I find it hard to get up and do stuff . . . garden stuff.  I get up to write, eat, chat on my cell, drive off to meet friends for shopping and dinner, but work in the garden has been something I've avoided for a few years. The work was done, but by semi-professionals, and I would look at it later, after I'd written my check, and sigh . . . so beautiful.

This month things are changing. I am doing work myself. I still need a professional to mow the yard, but the clean-up, plantings, and other little jobs are now mine. It is a task I've told myself it's time to take on. Get some exercise, get the dogs out in the fresh air, save some money . . . the new me, sparkling at sixty-five.

Ready to drop in the yard at sixty-five. A few days of vigorous word, raking old leaves from the fall, bagging them, taking them in my little Red Ryder wagon to the street, all joyous activities, all finding muscles and joints I haven't used lately.

Yet I find I am smiling like an idiot. And so are the dogs. We love being outside in these glorious days. I've missed the simple pleasures of my yard. Digging in the dirt is so cathartic. Watching the dogs lounge on the deck, silly smiles on their faces as their heads point up towards the sky, drinking in the sunshine.

Glorious.

Thrilling.

Fun.

The couch will be empty while we all prance in the yard. There is plenty of time to snuggle at night and watch TV.

Perhaps a gardening show on HGTV.

You never know what tricks an old dog can learn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lesson Learned!

 

 

I did and so did the dogs. I bathed. They didn't. Now the house smells like dirt. That's so much

better than some of the smells from the dogs!

 

 

Time To Get Under Control . . . Where Is My List?

 

Do you make lists? I don't.

My late husband always had a little book with him, one that organized his day, plans, and thoughts. I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, never quite sure what I needed to do.

"Write it down." He told me this daily our first years together as a couple. "Make a list. Get a book," and he'd stop writing in his to show me a worn leather folder, the size of a check book, "A day timer."

My reply was always the same. "Who would remind me to look at it." I'd never think to reach in my purse, look on the desk, or do whatever needed to be done to grab it and see what my list for the day was. So I did the next best thing, I placed my list where I would be sure to see it. On the bathroom mirror, on the medicine cabinet above the sink, not a slip of paper, or a post-it, but in lipstick. I'd see it every time I brushed my teeth. I brush my teeth more than the average person I am sure, so I knew I'd see my list without having to search for it. When I completed something, I'd wipe it clean and start over again.

There was some flack with that idea, but he got used to it as I got a bit more organized.

He made lists in Outlook on their calendar and every day a reminder popped up for him on the computer, yet he kept his day timer by his side. If he'd had a cell phone I am sure his calendar would have been full there too.

Me? I am spiraling down in disaster these days with what I am to do and when.

Last spring I did a bit of renovation on the house, replacing the old bathroom fixtures with new ones. The medicine cabinet was the first thing to go. My handyman Mighty Joe hauled if off to the dump. Years of lipstick lists had kept me on track. Did I put in a new medicine cabinet? No. I found an old Eastlake window an antique dealer friend of mine had fitted with a small mirror in the center and had that hung over my sink, where the old cabinet used to be. It is beautiful. You don't put lipstick notes on an antique. So two things became painfully apparent as I brushed my teeth every morning, noon, and night.

1. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with my day, what were the important things to accomplish.
2. I had no idea where my makeup, ibuprofen, and other items were. I no longer had a medicine cabinet.

I adapted. I started sending e-mail lists to myself every night before bed that I'd get first thing in the morning to remind me what I needed to do.  It was a great idea. I slept like a baby. The weight of worry off my mind. The next morning when all my e-mails came in, I'd forget to check the one marked 'list'.

Then one morning while drinking coffee and reading e-mail in Windows Live Mail I looked to the far right side of my monitor. There was a sidebar with a weekly calendar next to the window where I read my messages. It was a light bulb moment.  I could open up the larger calendar, make my lists, and they would show in the sidebar on each day of the week. How difficult could this be? All I had to do was remember to turn my head to the right when I was in my e-mail. I found a small sticky note and put it on my monitor with an important message to myself. Look right when in e-mail.

I know better. You don't write in lipstick on a monitor. It was hard enough finding an old post-it,  but this was as close to my lipstick theory as I could get. The first thing I do every morning, before I brush my teeth, is to check my e-mail. This may work if my note doesn't fly off into the dust bunnies on the floor I keep trying to remember to sweep up.

Yes, I have a cell. Yes it has a calendar. So what is your point?

 

The Plot Thickens

Graphic from the web. Google Free Betty Boop Graphics.

 

The plot thickens as I continue to write my romantic, slightly erotic, thriller. Two murders at the college, a farmhouse to die for, a trip to eat fried green tomatoes, an outstanding antique architectural piece purchased at a local shop, a missing dog, and a revealing kiss in an ally have my heroine Susan on edge.

But Susan is no more on edge than I am! Susan is taking me on a writing journey and I am her willing slave. I never know what she will do next, but I can't wait to find out where this all ends.

Hopefully not with me face down in my bottle of sherry. A victim of my own writing folly.

Available for Christmas.