Has it really been five days since I’ve written? Hmm. It feels strange…that it doesn’t feel strange. You see, I’ve had a bit on my plate the last two weeks. In the course of fourteen days, my youngest daughter first came down with the rotavirus, had two days of relative good health, then got another stomach bug for 24 hours, and then to top it all off, is now fighting RSV. Ooph. Throw in the typical Christmas hustle and bustle, plus a sick husband, and another sick child in the mix, and you start to see why I’ve been kept away from the laptop.
Now I guess that’s not completely true. I’ve had time to write. Small chunks of time, but time nonetheless. So, then, what kept me from sharing my usual once-a-day posts? I just …
The first time I met author Malena Lott (at a Buzz Books retreat), there was something so….familiar about her. Not her appearance, not her name. It was her spirit. She was charming, and poised, and dare I say, a lady. But her social graces were not pretentious, as she was warm, friendly and completely approachable. Just like two other ladies I know, my Great Aunts Nora and Mozelle. Both Oklahoma mavens, they held their gracious heads high no matter what life’s circumstances held. And then I found out something about Malena that tied all the pieces together. She is obsessed with Mid-Century design, the type of home goods and apparel my dear great aunts would have been using on a daily basis. It all makes so much sense now.
Not only …
Me and my Advertising Campaigns classmates senior year of college (many of us are still friends today). I thought I was on top of the world then. I had no idea. (I also have no idea why I struck some Peter Pan pose in the back.)
Me, in baggy jeans and cotton jacket, shuffling across the scuffed-up kitchen floor, singing, dancing, feeling more alive than I have in a long time. I scraped dried strawberry yogurt off the Little Tikes picnic table, and grumbled when I got some under my thumb nail (I hate that feeling), but still, I sang. I boiled a glass of water in the microwave, steaming off the splattered food particles that clung to the top and sides. Still, I sang. I sprayed, and wiped and swept…and sang. And danced. My …
See? Mommy used the f-bomb three times! Let’s just hope grandma doesn’t see! (image from: grandparents.com)
I’m not going to lie. I sure like logging into my dashboard and seeing triple digits not long after I make a post. (Quadruple digits would be nice, someday, but I’m not there yet.) But there are some things I just won’t do for views. After all, I care more about (way more about) quality than quantity.
No-oooh…I won’t do that:
1. Drop the Bomb: You know the one. The salty language used by some bloggers may draw “tsk-tsks” finger wagging, but it also draws attention. And attention means more page views. And while I would love to see my work circulate online faster than a LOL Cat meme, it’s just not worth it to me. Yes, I’m very candid and …
He’s pouring his heart out. But will you empty your pockets out? (image from nodepression.com)
When you stop to watch a street performer, whether it be a woman with a guitar, man with a harmonica, or group of teenagers doing beat box, are you offended if they have a tip jar? Or do you simply drop in a few coins if you’re entertained? Do you feel pressured? Do you find value in their performance? Do you find inspiration in their words?
Recently, I’ve seen a few “donation” or “tip” jar buttons on fellow blogger’s sites. My initial reaction? “Well, that’s strange.” But then, I began to think of my own blog. The stories I’ve told. The lives I’ve touched through my words. Yes, I do it for personal satisfaction and fulfillment, but it’s also a way …
Is your dream written in washable or permanent marker? (image from themotherhood.com)
Do you have a dream? Have you lived it? Have you tried? Have you had a taste only to have it slip through your fingers? Or was it ripped from your grasp?
How far did you chase that dream? Or did you pursue at all? Did you let it go, watch it ride into the sunset? Or did you follow with reckless abandon, sacrificing your money, your time, your life? If God has opened a window. how do we know if it’s closed, or just momentarily obscured? Or how do we know God opened that window at all?
Have you let your dream go, and only lived to regret it? Or have you watched your dream grow? All of us want the American dream, or some dream, …