Ring it Out, Ring it In

It's that time of year again.  The end of the year.  For most, it's a time of reflection on the past year to make room for improvements in the new year.

Of course we want the new year to be better than the one before.  Life is a cycle of ups and down,  good things and not so good.  We all know this, but when we're hunkering at the bottom of not so good, it's hard to remember that things change.

Millions of people will make New Year's Resolutions tonight.  I don't do that.  Each time I have, they've vanished into the stratosphere in only a matter of days.  I've learned to be more goal oriented, but even that could use some tuning, and not something as easy as fine-tuning.  I'm working on that.

I've decided to blame all the bad things this year on the number of the year, itself.  I mean, look at it.  See that 13?  No, I don't really believe the number 13 is bad luck.  Expecting bad luck simply draws it into the real world.  But it's a nice excuse on which to blame those bad things.

If I could have one wish, it would to be like J.K. Rowling.  Not so much because of the fame and wealth, but what I could do with those two things.  I have a friend who recently started working in a homeless shelter here in our "fair" city.  She started just in time for Christmas, and she told me about a little girl.  I don't know how old the girl is, but she'd wanted a doll for Christmas.  Disappointed when it didn't appear, the girl's comment was, "I wanted a doll, but Santa ran out of them before he got to me, and I got gloves."  I have no doubt those gloves were needed, but imagine the joy on that little girl's face, if Santa hadn't run out of dolls.

The shelter is in need of coats.  New, only, because laws don't permit "used clothing" in this situation.  If I had J.K. Rowling's bank account, I'd buy they each person there, young, old, or in-between, a coat.  And a doll for that little girl.  Maybe next year?

I've been blessed this year with lessons learned.  Several of them within the past two months.  Those are the things I want to focus on as 2014 plays itself out.  I guess that is a sort of resolution.  If it is, so be it.  Or, as Captain Picard always said, "Make it so."

I hope you can "Make it so" this year in whatever way you choose.  Because, you know, life is a succession of choices.  When it comes to good ones, make it so.

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson 

A Writer Must...Write!

Millions of people think and talk about writing a book.  Only a small percentage of them actually do it.  Many might start, but few finish.  Of that small percentage who actually do write a book, an even smaller percentage of them are published.  Manuscripts get shoved into a drawer, left to gather dust, while life continues to happen.

There are all kinds of reasons why a person doesn't get around to actually write.  There's a mantra for that.  It goes something like:  "I'll do it when life settles down."  "As soon as the kids are grown, I'm going to write that book."  And more.

The cold, hard fact is that if we want to write a book and finish it--maybe submit to a publisher and even receive a contract offer or self-publish our work--we have to put our butts in our chairs, forget about the dishes, tune out the screams of the children racing through the house, stop watching the thirty television shows we've become addicted to, and start writing.  But there's more.  We have to keep writing throughout the chaos of life, the ups and downs and no-time-to-write periods.

Let's face it.  A book won't write itself.  Only a writer can write it.

I played at writing, too.  There were those plays I wrote before the age of twelve, then later, I really did write a book on a third-hand portable typewriter.  And finished it.  Thankfully, it vanished. into the ether of long, long ago.  I knew nothing about writing.  Years went by before I felt the urge to write again.  I took two writing correspondence courses--yes, by mail, but didn't finish the second one.  With family in a needy period, I stuffed down the want-to-write feeling.  But I picked it up again a few years later, when life had calmed down.  Yeah, I see myself in one of those pigeonholes above.  The kids were older, more involved in their own lives and school, and I started at the writing game again.  Only this time, I didn't let anything or anyone stop me.  I wrote.  Book after book.  No training to speak of, at first, except those writing courses and thousands of books read.  Then the internet came into my life, and I met other writers.  After that, I wrote even more, and wrote better, thanks to the new friends I met, who had connections and had learned some of the ins and outs.  They shared with me.  I shared with them.  We grew together.

It was nice to have people to share with who battled the same things I did, when it came to writing.  Life, in general, too.  It still is.  My world has opened up, and each new year, it opens even more.  I treasure those friends, still.

If you want to write, write.  Give up an hour of television a day or an hour of sleep and start writing.  Find a writing group in your community or online.  Two heads (and more!) are better than one.  Continue to write.  The more you do it, the better you will be writing.  Read and study about writing and the market, whether online articles and blogs or books, then go back and use what you've learned as you write.

Seriously?  I'm still learning.

This is the last Friday of this year.  In four days, we'll be saying goodbye to 2013 and ringing in the new 2014.  Use these days to think about how you can be more productive with your writing.  Make this upcoming new year the one in which you'll write that book you've always dreamed of writing.  If you have a finished book, why is it languishing in a drawer?  Dust it off, polish it, and send it out to agents and/or publishers or check out indie/self-publishing.  Or do both!

Writers must write.  If not, they are only dreamers.  While there's nothing wrong with dreaming, doing is what makes those dreams come true.

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.  ~ Walt Disney

Fan Time

I'm picky about my sports, but then I'm female, and I can be.  I'm talking the three major sports played by high schools, colleges, and pros.  Even the non-pros, but probably because I became designated team scorekeeper in my 20s for what's called a "town team."  Those are teams made up of local players, past the age of high school and no longer in college, who can't give up the sport.

In high school, I was a member of the Pep Club.  Those went the way of granny dresses, when pep clubs and the male equivalents were deemed...  I don't know why.  By the way, the guys at our HS were called the Rowdy Rooters and had their own section in the bleachers.  Aptly named, because they did get rowdy.

But high school wasn't my first introduction to basketball.  My "big brother," the guy who I grew up next door to, taught me at a young age how to shoot a basketball.  Believe, I wasn't all that good.  I'm not much of sport participant, and more of a fan.

My dad didn't play sports.  For one thing, he was 5'2, and, when his dad died when my dad was ten, he worked at whatever job he could find that would add to the family's finances.  But he did love to watch sports.  Everything from football to bowling.  I, in turn, spent many Sunday afternoons watching with him.  My mom preferred baseball.  I remember her sitting in a precursor of a recliner, keeping score and stats on a pad of paper during the playoffs and World Series.  Yes, I had my own favorite baseball players.  Roger Maris (my fave of all), Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron...  The list goes on.  Later, I became a Dodgers fan.  I bled blue.

We went to basketball games when I was young.  Wichita had a National Industrial Basketball League team,  the Wichita Vickers.  I vaguely remember going to the games.  My mom liked telling the story of the game where, when she'd jumped up from her seat after an astounding play, she'd forgotten I was on her lap and dumped me on the floor.  Apparently it didn't dim my enthusiasm for the sport.

Football.  'Nuff said?  I'm a Dallas Cowboys fan and have been since high school.  I think it may have been because I loved watching Tom Landry coach. A real gentleman and a great coach.  Then came the Dream Team  --  Emmitt Smith, Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin, Daryl Johnston, and more.

But Saturday we basked in basketball.  Not only did my hometown college team (WSU) win, but
so did the team (KSU) we went to see play--the team that was expected to lose that particular game.  Five of our family attended that K-State game, front row floor seats behind the dance team and stat tables, with a huge screen overhead, just in case our view was blocked at any time, and we watched them beat the 10-1 team by ten points.  Excellent game!  And so much fun to be a part of the drenched-in-purple arena crowd.  I'm known to get a bit rowdy, while watching games--shades of the Rowdy Rooters, perhaps?--but I behaved myself.  Not a single "Booooo" crossed my lips after a questionable call.

WuShock  (and if you don't know what a wheat shock is, it's time to learn)

Willie Wildcat

What a great Christmas gift my oldest daughter gave us, in spite of the sleet and snow we dealt with going and coming.  It will be a Christmas time we'll always remember.

Best wishes for a wonderfully memorable Christmas this year!  May your heart be open to the love of beauty of the season.

Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home! ~ Charles Dickens

On the First Day of Christmas Vacation...

'Tis the Season to Be Grinchy

♪ ♫ ♪ On the first day of Christmas vacation, my family gave to me--♫ ♫ ♪
  ♪ 1 four-year-old who never stops talking or screaming
  ♫ 1 six-year-old who down't know how to speak without shouting
   ♪ 1 nine-year-old who can't understand that "no bouncing the soccer ball in the house" means NO BOUNCING THE SOCCER BALL IN THE HOUSE
   ♫ 1 eleven-year-old who has taken the art of arguing to a whole new level.


My youngest daughter put up our Christmas tree a little over a week ago.  She took it down last night.  That four-year-old thinks the decorations are toys to stick in the sofa, under the TV, or even out the front door.  The boys (6 & 9) think the trashcan is a basketball goal.  Correction: A soccer-ball goal, because they destroyed the basketball long ago.  I'm waiting for the sound of breaking glass.  I've already mopped up the overflow in the bathroom.  And the day isn't over yet, but at least it's half over.

I was born without an abundance of patience.  Or maybe I was, but it's all been used over the past 8+ years, since I offered my daughter of two children, at the time, childcare.  Then came another and another.  I raised four of my own, so I understand how caring for children can run the gamut from terrifying to terrific.  I didn't expect an apocalypse of disasters.  We had our own, many that could have been avoided, but yielded a lesson.  My two oldest daughters learned, after playing with and breaking something that didn't belong to them "for the last time," that mom had a breaking point.  Years later, one Pound Puppy is still missing an ear, and a Cabbage Patch doll an arm.  I can take a lot of abuse, but there's a limit.  They reached it that day, and it's something they've never forgotten.  What we have forgotten is what it was they broke to cause me to lose my cool.

Let's face it, mothers are human.  So are kids.  We all make mistakes, we all lose our temper, although as infrequently as possible.  I'm trying to hold on to mine today.  That, and my mind.

But tomorrow is Saturday, and the little darlings will be gone for the weekend in only a few hours.  I get a reprieve...until Monday, when we'll start all over again.  This year school is out for the holidays for seventeen days.  Yes, that's right, 17.  When I was in school--during the Dark Ages--we were lucky to get ten, and that happened when Christmas fell on Wednesday, as it does this year.

Wait!  There's no sound of a bouncing soccer ball, only the sounds of Family Guy, coming from the living room.  Oh, and a shout from the 6-year-old, but that's not uncommon.  They must be gathering strength for the next wave.  I, on the other hand, am dreaming of tomorrow, when I'll be attending the first college basketball game I've been to in thirty years.  Floor seats.  Under the basket.  On ESPN2.  MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!   I'll get to be the one screaming and shouting, jumping up and down, and maybe catching a basketball, although it might very well be in the face.

Such is life.  It's never a smooth road, but at least it's paved with good intentions and sprinkled with wonder.

'Tis the Season of Madness

It really doesn't change, this holiday madness time of year.  Some years it isn't too bad, but others make us want to crawl in bed and not climb out again until spring.

With Christmas only a week away, gasp...choke...faint and back to back deadlines looming into late February, the idea of crawling into a cave--hopefully a warm one--and staying there until sanity returns is whispering in the back of my mind.

Yes, life can be stressful, and holidays even more so.  There's never enough time.  There's never enough money.  There's never enough parking spots.  At the same time there's an abundance...of lists, chores, deadlines, wants and needs.  And yet we manage to do it, year after year, and actually survive.

If holiday stress is taking its toll on you this year, below are some quick, online tips to help lend a calming holiday for you and yours.  Simply taking time out to read them might help a little.  Giving thought to them might help even more.

So here they are, those tips to get you through the most stressful time of the year.  Click on the links to read more about each tip.

From Psychology Today...
10 Tools for Dealing with Holiday Stress and Depression

1. Keep your expectations balanced.
2. Don't try to do too much.
3. Don't isolate.
4. Don't overspend.
5. Mourning is appropriate at times.
6. Treat depression wisely
7. Watch your diet and get some exercise.
8. Be aware of the Post Holiday Syndrome.
9. Plan Ahead.
10. Learn forgiveness and acceptance.

Read more here.

5 Practical Tips To Deal With Holiday Stress: The RELAX Paradigm

1. Remember what the holidays are truly about.
2. Exercise.
3. Listen to music that you love.
4. Ask for help.
5. eXtricate yourself from unnecessary socializing.

Read more here.

from Psych Central...

Coping with the Holidays: Eight Ideas for De-Stressing the Holidays

1. Remember the spirits of the season.
2. Be a friend.
3. Remember the family members who are no longer present.
4. Discuss the issue of presents with your family.
5. Practice moderation in preparing holiday meals and consuming holiday goodies.
6. Plan enough time for shopping.
7. Understand that others may be stressed out.
8. Be grateful.

Read more here.

There are more tips, lists and articles at Psych Central's Coping with the Holidays.

Check the Mayo Clinic suggestions.

Stress, depression and the holidays: Tips for coping from the Mayo Clinic

1. Acknowledge your feelings.
2. Reach out.
3. Be realistic.
4. Set aside differences.
5. Stick to a budget.
6. Plan ahead.
7. Learn to say no.
8. Don't abandon healthy habits.
9. Take a breather.
10. Seek professional help if you need it. 

Read more here.

Wishing you and yours Seasons Greetings, a very Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays!

Christmas... is not an external event at all, but a piece of one's home that one carries in one's heart. ~ Freya Stark 

Sound Blast from the Past

High school band, 1968

Last night, I attended my oldest granddaughter's instrumental concert.  I missed the first one, so going to this one, themed for the holidays, was one I didn't want to miss.  Because these were middle school band and orchestra students, many of them are just beginning their musical journey.  But I must say I was impressed with their playing--especially the 6th graders, who played after only a few months of instruction.  The teacher/conductor also impressed me.  Sure, there were some missed notes and, as I and my fellow former high school band members can remember, the tempo of each piece being played tends to speed up as the end approaches.  Last night, they handled that very well.

My granddaughter plays the viola.  She wanted to play the cello, but she's on the tiny side, and the girl across the street from me won out on that one.  By the way, the girl across the street is a sweetie and friend with both of my granddaughters.  I remember wanting to play the cello.  For a year or so when I was ten, I took private French lessons with a group of older girls, one a neighbor.  They were in what's now middle school at the time.  I'd learned French in fourth grade, so I at least had a clue.  That and the fact that a family friend had taught me several French phrases and to count from one to ten before I ever started school.  The daughter of the woman who taught those of us in the private group played the cello.  I fell in love with it.  So how did I end up playing flute?  I have no idea, but I did.  (I also missed seeing JFK before he was elected President, all because I had to go to French lessons.  Who knew?)

Watching the middle school students last night and listening to them play brought back memories of being a member of my high school band.  I went to a small school (56 in our graduating class), where the only instrumental was band.  A good thing I didn't take up the cello!  Because our junior high shared the building with the high school, we 7th and 8th graders were integrated into the high school band.  We were pretty good.  But we got better.

Senior year, the second year without our beloved band teacher.

My freshman year in high school, we were introduced to a new music (band and vocal) teacher.  He was young, had a wife that was just as young and fun, and two small children.  We adored them, and especially him, whether band members or vocal music members.  He worked us hard, especially the marching band.  We went from a disordered bunch of kids on the football field at halftime, scrambling to find our places to create a cherry tree (George Washington) and a stovepipe hat (Abraham Lincoln) to a precision, synchronized marching band.  You've probably seen college bands perform during football games

Goofing off after a parade (no, not me)

that do the same on a much bigger scale.  We had no idea how our movements appeared to onlookers as we zigged and zagged across the field, eight steps to each five yards, while playing.  Or marched in a parade, all in same step, while dodging piles of horse...well, you know.  Bill. Rotter knew not only how to teach music, he knew how to make playing it a joy.  He could also play a mean sax and piano.  One of my best memories is of him playing the piano and singing the song, Little Egypt for us.  (Only 'us oldies' remember it. ☺)  He was fun, he was talented, and he was the best.  His second year, we competed in a state marching contest and won a I rating, the highest.  The nearly 6 hour round trip was worth it.  He

Napping-or trying to-on the bus

left us a year later, moving on to direct at a community college in Pratt, KS.  Some of us visited him and his family there one weekend.  One very memorable weekend with good friends, not simply a former teacher.  He's now in Oklahoma, directing a band of his making and bringing enjoyment to many.

Those are the things that went through my mind last night, as I watched the 6th, 7th, and 8th grade bands and orchestras perform.  When Carol of the Bells played, I remembered singing it in vocal music.  It's one of my favorite songs of the Christmas season.  But our favorite in band, not played last night, was Sleigh Ride.  Each time we played it i concert, the audience was on its feet, applauding and cheering when it ended.  I can't hear the song without thinking of Mr. Rotter, standing before us, waving his wand, while we made magic the way he taught us.  We were blessed, and they continue in our memories.

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. ~ Victor Hugo

Life's Little Potholes

Yes, that's a pothole.  Anyone who has traveled on a road, whether paved, dirt or sanded, has dealt with them.  They tear up our tires and vehicle and can slam our jaws together tighter than an old lady's corset.  My particular pothole is sitting in the middle of the Road of Life---MY life.  And I've hit it.  Why?  I don't know.  It is what it is.

When this happens, when we hit that pothole, we're stunned.  Then we're shaken.  How much damage has been done?  Other than to my jaw, teeth, and nerves, that is.  I drive a little down the road, only to notice that my steering wheel is insisting I veer to the right.  Flat tire?  I stop, get out and check it, and see that the tire is fine.  Back in the car, I fight the direction the car wants to take me.  The pothole has messed up the alignment.  Just what I don't need right now.

As the French say, "C'est la vie."  Such is life.  We get slammed when we least expect it and least need it.  The first reaction is anger.  I don't like to feel angry.  I don't like that dark, ugly feeling inside.  I want light and pretty.  I do what I can to keep that period of anger as short as possible.  The anger turns to frustration, and the tears begin.  I don't want to cry.  I want to be able to smile, but my emotions have been shaken and bottomed out.  Just how much damage was done to the underneath of my car?  Panic sets in.  Can this be repaired?  If not, what's next?

We've all heard about the stages of grief. There are five of them.  Here's a quick summary.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

When something traumatic hits us, we go through these 5 stages.  It may take minutes, it may take years.  The length of time of each the stages varies with each person.  They don't always happen in that order.  Some are even skipped.  For me, the Denial stage was, "You've got to be kidding.  Really??"  Yes, there's a tad bit of Anger in that one. :)

Eventually, we come to Acceptance.  The car is out of alignment, there's a dent in the undercarriage, but it's all fixable.  It's only going to take some time.  Oh, and some money, too.  But at least the car will not have to be replaced.  So we do what is necessary to get us back on the road again.

What we don't do is give up.  We don't curl up in a ball and tell the world to go away.  We do what is necessary to make things right for ourselves, then we move on.  Yeah, probably to hit another pothole down the road, but if we've learned to keep a watch on the road and we've learned that we can avoid those potholes--not always, but often--a bad thing eventually becomes a not bad thing.  Maybe even a good one.

Life is full of lessons, just like roads are full of potholes.  They get us when we least expect it.  Go ahead and get angry.  Get it all out.  Just don't let it rule your life.  Make your life better because of it.

All the adversity I've had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me... You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you. ~ Walt Disney