"Look, Mommy!"

Your child hands you a most amazing drawing, but you are biased.

"Look, Mommy!"

Your child does a most beautiful dance move, but you are biased.

"Look, Mom!"

Your child shows you creative skills beyond your wildest dreams. You are biased.

"Look, Mom!"

Your children show you their visions of the world...Your breath is taken away.

You are biased.

I just want to hold you close like I did when you were a baby...protected.

But you must share your visions with the world...unprotected. 

Our world needs to see new creations and new visions.

If not for those, we would become stagnant.

But I am biased.

You will be ridiculed and disregarded...Of that I am sure.

But if you share your creations...whether it be paintings, movies, photographs, designs, thoughts, song, dance...

If you strive to share your creations, however seemingly trivial to others, you will find a moment of happiness.

You will have moments of being poor and rich and sometimes both...Of that I am sure.

But from one who knows...no one can take away the few moments of happiness that creating grants you.

But I am biased.

Of that I am sure.

I am very unsure of how people are able to develop relationships in this technological age of texting and e-mailing versus having a live conversation. Having just embarked into the world of online dating, I am bewildered how we are expected to meet someone and get to know them through texts and online chats. Of course, then there is the daunting task of fitting a real conversation into the mix of life. Perhaps it is because I have a busy life already that texting would appear to be the best means of communication, but I know that texting is a dangerous way to communicate with someone I do not know. The true meaning of comments can be so easily lost or misconstrued. A simple attempt at comedy or sarcasm can come across to the reader as cruel or self-serving. Attempts at flattery or a compliment can be viewed as crazy or stalkerish.

Then there is the attempt to arrange a phone call "first date". Ever had one of these? Just setting one up in my life is becoming an achievement of mythical proportion. As a single, working mom, perhaps I should have put in my profile, "Virtually never available." That would get a lot of takers. It's not that I do not have downtime, but most of that time means there is a third party present or I am scrambling from place to place to "get things done" before I have to work again. Ah, excuses...excuses. Case in point, I struck up a conversation with a man on one site who seems nice. We have attempted to establish a time for us to talk on the phone; however, I am the person who keeps having to text, "Can we try a call later?" Now I am feeling guilty for "stringing" this guy along. How crazy is that? I don't even know the guy. So, I am slowly coming to realize that these new modes of establishing a connection with someone are very foreign to some of us...okay, me. And I guess a bigger question is, "Am I ready to make the effort and time to learn this new skill?"

Yes, I have yet to transpose my 100 day self challenge into my blog, which will happen...eventually. It seems like that is what life is like...eventually.  And yet this summer has had some powerful messages delivered to us all with nothing "eventually" about them....
The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, the loss of journalist, James Foley, the loss of two Malaysia flights, and the loss of Robin Williams. Ironically, all of these events symbolize our challenges in life...powerful challenges. We all struggle with inner demos, physical ailments, some life threatening, and the threat of outer demons. And now September 11th is once again upon us...an anniversary that is still so painful for some and just a reminder of where we were that day for others. Odd how that is.  Yet we cannot, as humans, shoulder the pain of each event or we could not go on, so we still dwell on the ten pounds we want to lose, the fact that a neighbor once again did not take their trash can from the curb, and that annoying cubicle-mate who eats their food too loud. And, so, eventually...well, eventually we get things done as a society and planet. We erect monuments and create amazing new social media events. We grieve together over Facebook as we drive our cars, munching on sandwiches in traffic while texting.  We do so many things wrong, striving to get it right... eventually.

It's ironic that when we are young and not developed enough, we have the absolute incredible power of the living in the here and now...no eventually about it.  And, as parents, we try to mold our kids, teach them of the ...eventually.  Perhaps "eventually" is a more American Institute, I don't know.  But it is, in fact, the end of summer...the end of the world to a teenager.  Perhaps we adults could learn a thing or two...to treat more of our days like the last day of summer.

Day 75: Thankful for a full life past, present, and future...

She peered out of the cave into the dawn sunlight. Her cubs were cubs no more. They had grown and left the cave, making their own journey. The momma bear felt sad that this part of her life was ending. She looked back at the empty cave that was so full of life not long ago. She shivered and shook her head. She ventured into the morning air...ready to walk into the new chapter of her life.

Day 62:

I think I let the genie out of the bottle...the cat out of the bag...the characters out of the secret place where they have been forced to live. Perhaps other writers or creators of tales have experienced this. Now that I have voiced their existence, the characters of my book won't leave me alone.  They each come to me with their story, justifying their motives and actions. Whether I am in the shower, doing dishes, or even in the grocery store, I feel like I am being followed around by a gaggle of imaginary geese. No, I am not going bonkers...did that long ago. 

I feel a little like I am binge watching a Netflix series in my head. Now, I really have to carry my notebook around with me because they get terribly upset if I do not capture their point of view in a conflict. It should be interesting to see who gets "first person" placement. Then again, as it evolves, I believe they will all get a say so in what finally happens. Yes, I do not know the ending yet. I'm sure one of them will spring that on me while I'm in the bathroom. So, if you ever see me talking to myself on the street, just assume I am on my Bluetooth, even though we all know I am talking to "them". Today, I am thankful I have not yet been committed!

Day 61: 

Today I admit what I started many years ago...a fantasy, a story that has started, sputtered, stopped, morphed, and remained my little secret.  A tale that I have told no one about, not even my kids or my mom. But my little post apocalyptic world of fantasy has now requested that life finally be breathed into it...that it be allowed to see completion and the light of day. So, with renewed vigor I return to the world where Nick lives, searching for Hank and his mother, being constantly haunted by Alana, a woman he has yet to meet.

For years I told my kids stories about the Secret Garden which is not about the story I am writing but about the desire to enter that Secret Place where you can create lives out of thin air...you can be a kid again playing make believe. You can dance with wolves, slay a dragon, kiss a handsome prince, and live to tell others all about the amazing adventures you have had. Now with the kids going on their own journeys, I can revisit my own Secret Garden. For that, I am thankful.

Day 60:

I look up after driving for about 20 minutes. The sun is setting, and it is a warm but comfortable summer evening with the golden hues reflecting on the trees in the yard of the home that sits before me. I recognize the house but not the person coming out the front door waving her arms at me, ranting like a crazy person, "Who are you! Get out of my driveway! We don't allow solicitors here!" I put my car in reverse and slowly pulled out of the driveway. "How had I ended up here?"

I had just attended a free writer's conference where I had listened to published writers read some of their work. It was a brief meeting after a long, hard day at work, but it had inspired me to return to the world of a story I had been working on over the years. The plot line unfurled in my head as I drove home from the meeting, feeling rejuvenated and inspired to revisit my imaginary world.

As I drove home from the conference, I passed Dr. Amy's large, blue-grey Victorian home on the main street. It had not changed, still shrouded by large trees with the small front yard overgrown with plants but somehow still seeming like is was tended to and was meant to have this appearance. Her house sent me into a different world, one that seemed to have happened a life-time ago. Dr. Amy had seen my children for about a year while one of her colleagues had counseled my husband and I in couples therapy. It was in that house where our marriage would meet its overdue demise, and the children would be given guidance.

After passing the old home, I must have gone into mental cruise control, allowing old habits to guide my driving as I took inventory of life events that started with that house, memories that somehow intertwined into my fictional story and the science fiction realm I had created in my imagination.  As we had done for the entire year in 2004, I drove home after going by Dr. Amy's...the home we had lost to foreclosure during the ensuing 3 year divorce process...the home we had spent several years and thousands of dollars renovating...the home we had bought in 1995 after moving to Wisconsin from Los Angeles. And there I sat....at a home that was no longer home.

As I drove away, I was not sad but amazed at the changes in life we all go through and how our past "lives" often reside in the same dimension as our current life, forcing us to recalibrate and take stock in where we were and where we are going. I am thankful that my old self somehow took me back to that house. Driving away this time meant closure and further solidified my desire to continue on my new adventures.

Day 57:

I am thankful that I have clean clothes. Seems like such a simple thing, but when you attempt to impart the wisdom of washing clothes on a regular basis to your kids...well, let's just say I think something is lost in translation. My voice once again starts to sound like any adult on Charlie Brown. Wa, wa, wa...wa, wahhhh.  Translation: If you launder your clothes once a week, you will have something that smells and looks clean to wear. "Seriously, Mom, what a waste of time." Now, mind you, it was never a waste of time when Mom did it, but now Mom says, "Hhhmmmm, I think they are old enough for this task." I didn't expect this learning curve, but then I realize, "Of course, their dad's mom still does his laundry, and he's almost 60 years old." Yes, I have to giggle a bit to myself. Did I mention that I am very, very thankful that I no longer have to do his laundry or try to teach him to do his own.
I clearly failed in that task. Hope I'm able to do better teaching my kids....because they know full well that there is no way in hell I am doing their laundry when they are 60. Ah well, until they learn, I will still get to watch the entertaining exercise they go through every time they change clothes. I call it the "Sift & Sniff". You know the drill...they sift through the piles of dirty clothes on their floor, bed, in the closet. They find a possible candidate...sniff...sniff...wait for it...sniff...We Have a Winner!!!!