17 Years of Motherhood, and counting

Quote of the Day:  The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.  from The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

My first born son turned 17 this weekend. He recently read "Catcher" and posted this quote on his facebook page.  I think he really liked the book.  He said that he plans to post a quote from good books that he reads.  Hmm. That sounds familiar. 

He once asked me if I had posters of rock stars on the walls of my bedroom when I was a girl.  I said, "No, I wasn't in love with rock stars.  But, Nancy (my sister) had pictures up of all the stars.  Her room was wall-papered with ripped out pages of Teen magazine."

"What did you have you your walls, Mom...horses?"

"Well, yes," I said.  "How did you know?"

Bobby rolled his eyes.  "There's two kinds of girls.  Those who are in love with rock stars and those who love horses."

He had it figured out by age 14.

He's a scholarly fellow, this first born son.  He likes good literature, thinking games, deep discussions, historical films, and technology.  We went to The King's Speech together.  I thought it was more of a gift to me, but he really liked it, and we talked about it afterwards.  It's a great movie about a man who never thought he'd be good enough to be king, or give inspiring speeches, or appear strong.  But, he did.  In making himself vulnerable to a commoner with great instincts and caring, he conquered fear.

Seventeen years ago, I was a new mom.  He was born at noon on a Saturday, 9 lbs. 3oz. and ready for lunch.  Both of us opened our eyes to new life and all the possibilities.

Go. Create. Inspire!

Journaling Prompt:  What posters or decorations did you have in your childhood bedrooms?  When did life take on new meaning for you?

Letting Joy In

Quote of the Day:  a poem

Muse

by Linda Pastan

No angel speaks to me.

And though the wind

plucks the dry leaves

as if they were so many notes

of music, I can hear no words.

Still, I listen.  I search

the feathery shapes of clouds

hoping to find the curve of a wing.

And sometimes, when the static

of the world clears just for a moment

A small voice comes through,

chastening.  Music

is its own language, it says.

Along the indifferent corridors

of space, angels could be hiding.

Joy comes to me in the form of children and music.

In planting and watching things grow, the trees, the boys, relationships.

Joy happens when you let your silly out and your playfulness in.

Joy comes from trying a recipe just because it's in your math homework.

Did you know that inspiration is contagious?  I've been inspired by the students and people that I've let into my life.  From your comments here, and in person, I've learned that from my inspiration, you felt more empowered to become your authentic selves. 

One night, I woke myself up as my hand rose above my covers, playing air piano.  I smiled to myself.  I heard the music that I've let into my house.  I remembered the laughter.  Laughed out loud, to myself, my happy dream, and went back to sleep.

Go. Create. Inspire! And, dream happy dreams filled with inspiration.

Journaling Prompt:  Write about a dream, a night dream or a day dream, that made you smile or laugh.

Mountaintop Feeling

Quote of the Day:  You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. - Eleanor Roosevelt

Last April I signed up for Scriptfrenzy where your goal is to write a script in a month.  I wore the above t-shirt for the first time, packed up my laptop, and made myself a table top office at a coffee shop in downtown Brainerd, MN.  I did not complete the script in month, but I got a good start.  I typed "The End" on it last week, made copies, and invited a few talented and supportive friends over for breakfast and script reading.  It was one of the best days of my life!

I served an egg bake with ham, cheese, and hash browns, and made my famous fruit pizza.  I'm showing the readers the pizza because it has a star fruit theme.  I told them, "You are all stars.  I feel like I'm launching my career as a playwright today, and I'm so glad that you are here for it."  And, for those of you who read my blog and know me, you have also been here for it.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  I feel your encouragement and creative energy every time I sit down to write.

After much blood, sweat, tears, and coffee, the play is ready to be released to the world.  I had just finished typing "The End," when Janet, a writer friend in Grand Forks, wrote that they were having a theatre opportunity for women writers in Grand Forks, called She Speaks, on March 5, and would I be interested in submitting a 10 page cutting of my script.  Whoa, I thought, I just finished it.  I'm having the first read-through on Sat. morning, but YES, I am interested.  I made the cutting this afternoon and sent it off to the director. 

The story and characters came alive in a new way as my friends read this script.  Several times during the reading, that was often interrupted by commentary, the people reacted to the words as themselves, then realized that it was script, and went back into character.  That's how natural it read.  Oh, my heart was beating fast.  Can you tell from the photo how flushed I am?  I'm still coming down from this Mountaintop feeling.

Here they all are:

Joey, my photographer friend who played Lolly.

Lisa, my neighbor and freind who brought the cream cheese coffee cake and played Jewell.

Laura, my friend with enormous gifts and talents in theatre, played Laura.

Matt and Beth live over two hours away, but just happened to be coming through town, read Nick and Roxy.  Beth was my student back when I was an English teacher.  She starred in the one play that I directed in her high school.  She's also writing a play.

Ed, the coffee drinker sweet dad guy who played Sam.  He's a retired elementary school teacher and a musician.

And, Denise, the birthday girl, who said this was a great way to start out her birthday celebration.  She played Aubrey.

I could go on and on, but I'll save some things for a later post.  We laughed.  We cried.  We shared stories.  Denise said it felt like we were surrounded by a white light of positive energy.  I'm telling you, folks, it's still here.  I'm still glowing.  And, the view from this Mountaintop is spectacular.

Go. Create. Inspire!

Journaling Promt:  Describe a mountaintop experience, one you've had or one you dream of having.

Wanted: Real Men

Quote of the Day:  I am who I am today because of Her Voice.  Not just the magazine, but the daily call and connection to her voice...my wife, Erin.  She, and most women for that matter, understand relationships. Hans Anderson, co-author with me on the article in Her Voice, titled "Real Men Read Her Voice"

Hans Anderson at the Brainerd Ice Fishing Extravaganza

Hans and I met at the Y during the Group Power weight-lifting fitness class.  Whenever the magazine came out, Hans would lean over, talk out of the corner of his mouth and say, "Hey, I read your article in Her Voice."  He confessed that he read the whole thing every time it came out.  Then, he started confessing that he likes to write, too.  Finally, I asked him if he'd like to write an article with me.  He said, "Yes," and you can read all about it here.  Click below the picture of the cover where it says, Open Publication. Click on the words to enlarge them. Our story is on pages 14 & 15.  You can find a couple more pictures of me on the table on contents and editorial.  Joey, the photographer, had me laughing during the photo shoot.  It's actually pretty funny that I'm even holding an ice fishing pole!  This is a great publication with local flair, and also global appeal.  I hope you enjoy the articles!

When men first started confessing to me that they read Her Voice, I was surprised.  When they complimented my writing, I was flattered.  When they asked about my writing, I felt honored and respected.  Thanks to all the Real Men who connect with women and aren't afraid to talk about it.

Go. Create. Inspire!

Journaling Prompt:  When have you been surprised by a reaction to your writing, art, or accomplishments?

Seizing the Day

Quote of the Day:  Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are your own fears. - Kudyard Kipling

Do school lockers make you afraid?

Do they evoke memories of bad school days, junior high angst, powerlessness?

I decided to take a photography class through community ed.  The classes are held at the former junior high school which has been converted into art space and studios.  Our first assignment was to figure out how to set our cameras to manual mode and read the lighting. 

I'm not exactly a Kindergartner in a photography class, but I'm still in elementary school.  I'm hoping to unlock the mysteries of creative photography in this junior high setting. 

Our homework is to take pictures, duh, and share them this week.  Since we have a glorious day that is above freezing - actually around 40F out there, I took a walk with my camera.

My first photo was of my neighbor's house.  I had thoughts of knocking on the door to see if my friend was home, but thought I might be tempted to drink tea and visit instead of doing my homework, so I kept walking.  My first photos of her place were bright white.  I still had my camera set to indoor lighting.

Signs of melting, and things that are revealed caught my eye. 

Soon kids will be playing here.  My boys like being the first to clean the slide off with their bottoms.

I find beauty in nature, not the straight and perfect, rather what is broken, decaying, and yet, showing new life.

When I got home, I discovered broken dishes and a cat who had seized the opportunity to climb on the counter to lick my plate.  I'd had salmon on my toast, and I should have known she couldn't resist the smell. 

Reason number one for doing your dishes right away.

What? Me? I've just been lying here, napping all afternoon.

Right.

This blog has been a bit quiet lately because I'm preparing for the read-through (unveiling) of my first full-length play this coming Sat. Feb. 19.  Wanna talk about fears?  I've been pushing down negative thoughts for at least two weeks.  But, I've set the date and called my talented friends, so there's no backing down, now.  Eeep!

I'll have one more post this week when my latest article in Her Voice is available online.  It's titled "Real Men Read Her Voice."

Turn and face your fears, my friends, and

Go. Create. Inspire!

Journaling Prompt:  How do you celebrate warmer weather and feelings that spring is in the air?  What fears are you pushing down right now?

Threats of Violence

Quote of the Day:  Violence and the threat of violence is around us every day.  I tried googling that statement to see if I should give a quote credit to an individual, but found many, many articles on violence, from the recent shooting in Arizona, to domestic violence right here in our back yard, and the continued nation-wide violence across the globe.

Just this week, our local Y had a bomb scare.  My young sons were in the pool at their normal swim practice.  I'd sent my oldest son to pick them up and drop off his other brother.  And, where was the Mother? (they always ask that in media interviews)  I was at home having a happy piano lesson with two of my neighbor girls.  I'd sent my sons off into a potential danger zone.  Now, I'm not as paranoid as that sounds.  I realize that most of the bomb threats are done by kids wanting attention.  My oldest son wanted to "poo poo" my worries.  I said, "Listen, I know it's not probable, but it IS possible.  Do you think your friend in Omaha ever thought that a school shooting would happen where she lives?"  He said, "Good point."  I thanked him.  All I need to know is that they understand that danger IS out there.  It can happen anywhere at any time.  It doesn't matter where you live or how many times you been somewhere.  This could be the day that violence strikes.

Two days later, while I was driving home from the Y after dropping off one of my sons, I hit a deer.  It wasn't far from where I hit one last year.  Killed it, just like last year, and the damage to the vehicle looks about the same.  Last year, I hit one in the morning, just before the sun came up.  This year, just after the sun went down.  You never know when something will pop out of the darkness and scare you half to death.  Luckily, a friend and work-out buddy from the Y, stopped her car and stayed with me until the cops checked out the situation, and she followed me home.  I am grateful for my girlfriend who helped, but when her car stopped, I didn't know who would be coming out to "help."  It could also have been someone who would harm me. 

I remind my kids to shut and lock doors when they leave the house, especially when I'm not home.  I need to remind them that I am a vulnerable woman.  Women are victims of violence every day - Every Single Day - around the world, and yes, right here in our own back yard.

They say that Superbowl Sunday is one of the worst days in the USA for domestic violence.  If you sense danger as testosterone and tempers escalate, make a plan.  Leave the house, leave town, seek shelter from a friend, family member, or your local women's shelter.  You are not alone, and there are people out there who will help you.  Trust your intuition.  If something doesn't feel right, seek help.  We have this "Hollywood" image of what spousal abuse looks like - it's bruises and kicks and broken bones, but that's just when it's escalated to its peak.  It can also be name calling, insults, cruel teasing, hissing criticisms in your ear, the silent treatment, demanding his way, the threat of violence by slamming doors, breaking things, talking about guns and shooting.  Isolation.

We live in a world of violence and the threat of violence.  We must remain ever vigilant.  We need to trust our instincts. 

Be strong. Be safe.  So that you can Go, Create, and Inspire others.

Peace,
Mary

Journaling Prompt:  Write about a time when your instincts helped you in a situation.

Jacket Weather

Quote of the Day: Snowball by Shel Silverstein

I made myself a snowball

As perfect as could be.

I thought I'd keep it as a pet

and let it sleep with me.

I made it some pajamas

And a pillow for its head.

Then last night it ran away,

But first - it wet the bed.

Here's a picture of our first snowfall of the season.  It was October.  We were excited.  It was pretty, and it was sticky enough for snowballs and snowmen, and it was fun.  Now, the driveway is packed with ice, as are the intersections.  A big lump has formed under my mailbox, requiring me and the mail carrier to lean down to get the mail in and out of it. 

Plus, it's darn cold!

Even with temps well below zero and a wind-chill advisory, and warnings of frost bite, this new driver refuses to wear a warm coat. (This picture was taken last year when he got his license.  I must have threatened him with refusal to pay for the license if he didn't wear a coat.)

Last year he lettered in football, so I got him a Letterman's jacket for his birthday, thinking, ah-ha, NOW he'll wear a warm jacket when it's cold up here in Minnesota. 

Nope.

Somehow, the wearing of the jacket has become a power struggle.  It started young.  Yes, he's a hot kid.  As a baby he wouldn't wear the hot jammies with the feet (cute as they are).  He kicked off all of his covers and ran around in t-shirts in the middle of winter.  He'd cry if I tried to get him to put on a long-sleeved shirt.  When he was in the 6th grade, he wouldn't wear his warm coat, so I brought it along in the van.  "Love and Logic" parenting guide says that if they're cold, they'll put on the jacket.  He refused to even carry it with him.  So, I threw it out the door at him when he got out of the van.  He picked it up and threw it back in. I tossed it out.  Finally, he picked it up, gave me a dirty look, and carried it into the school.  When I picked him up later that day, after a swim practice, he tossed it at me and said, "I never put it on."

I determined that he's channeling Bud Grant, former coach of the Minnesota Vikings.  Back in his day, the Vikes played outdoors.  He never wore a coat, often was in short-sleeves, had his players practice outdoors in any kind of weather, and didn't allow heaters on the sidelines.  Tough guy.

All we see is white snow, ice, and the occassional brown sand/salt mixture.  I'm longing for color and warmth.  How about you?  Here's a visual to give you warm thoughts.

After our spring thaw and flooding season, we'll have days like this.  Picture yourself there, now, cool glass of iced tea or lemonade, chatting with your good friend, watching the days melt away.

To get myself even more in the summer spirit, I'm working on a story today about my friend Georgia and her writer's hideaway on the banks of the Crow Wing River.

Journaling Prompt:  Where is your creative corner?  Do you have a warm summer memory to get you through cold, winter days?  Do you have any ridiculous power struggles?