Daily Bike Strides

Time to dust off our bikes, pump the tires and get moving outdoors, snowflakes or not! As I examined my bike early this morning to assess its conditioning requirements, I was reminded of an inspiring biking encounter I had at a state park, a couple of years ago.

I walked with a friend and our dogs regularly during the warmer weather. We pushed ourselves to keep going even once the temperatures dropped dramatically, even braving ice patches and submerging our boots in deep snow-covered trails. 

All year long, regardless of the day of the week or season, we noticed this senior citizen who rode his old-fashioned bike faithfully. He always had his transistor radio on board a basket of some sort, which played some oldies. He hummed or sang along as he passed by. He rode the bike leisurely, almost meandering like he was happy to lose himself in the song and had no particular path or direction to follow.

One very chilly winter day, we saw him outside his locked car door and heard him say over the cell phone that he had accidentally locked his car keys inside and didn't know what he would do.

We decided to offer him a ride home to fetch his keys. I was the lucky driver who took the opportunity to ask him a few questions.

"So you must love bike riding a lot to be out here so often, even in freezing temperatures," I said.

"I loved skiing and did it very well for many years. And then one day, I had an accident and was bed-ridden for too long. I swore I would never not move again," he replied.

"I see you here all the time. How often do you ride your bike?"

"Every day I get up, eat breakfast and ride my bike here for 3 hours. Then I stop home to have lunch and come back here to ride for 3 hours more. Afterwards I make myself a nice dinner and then I scrapbook."

What got me was not the fact that he rode his bike for 6 hours a day. It was his structured life. He had lived alone for the past year since his wife had passed away.

"Why do you ride alone? Why don't you ask family or friends to join you?"

"You think I don't have family or friends? I got me lots of them. They live far away and they are always nagging me to move closer to them. But this town is my home. And this is what I love to do. I have the use of both of my legs and I can ride my bike as long as I like as often as I like. I am a very happy man."

"And the scrapbooking?"

"The Mrs took the time to take all of these beautiful photos of us with the kids. She loved to scrapbook. And now I have all the time in the world to finish what she started."

Classroom of Life

This morning I held a Ticonderoga tri-write pencil in my hand for the first time.  It was true to its claim.  It really was naturally easy to hold due to its triangular contouring.  When I first saw the packaging during back-to-school shopping three weeks ago, I thought it was just the latest gimmick.

"Why would you need a different shaped pencil?" I asked my 5th grade daughter.

"Because, Mom, your hands get tired from writing and they hurt after a while."

I thought about the fact that I never use pencils anymore as an adult.  The last time I used pencils was in a college fine arts class that I took as an elective.  I enjoyed learning what grade graphite pencils to use for shading and creating depth in sketch drawings.  Several hours passed while I happily focused on my artwork.  How liberating it was developing new skills.  These days I prefer to use gel pens which glide weightlessly across the page.  My hand tires easily when attempting to write more than one page which is why I now prefer to type as I write on the computer keyboard.  The only writing I physically do now is the daily task or shopping list.    

We rounded the aisle and then my daughter made another request.

"Mom, can we buy me a special binder?"

"Why do you need a binder?  It's not even on your school supplies list."

My guess was that her brother, who is in high school and had a much longer shopping list, was in the market for a new binder, so she wanted one too.

"Because, Mom, I want to file my papers in there.  You know, so I can be organized."

It was unnecessary but she had a good argument.  Her school papers always piled up on the kitchen desk and they became my problem.

"Let's make a deal then.  If I buy you the binder, you will hole punch your papers as they come in the house and file them in your binder."

"Okay."

She spent the next ten minutes looking for just the right binder.  A blue sparkly one with green borders caught her eye.  It was four dollars more than the average binder but I figured anything that would help inspire her to keep order was a good thing, so I obliged.

"Mom?  Can we buy those plastic page protectors that you used for your writing portfolio?  I want to start my own art portfolio."

Ever since that day, whenever she has had free time, she has sketched and colored drawings and inserted them into her special binder.

I found her desire to be comfortable when writing and her need to organize her work inspiring.  She took pride in her work and wanted to feel good about it.  I thought for a moment about what I might want to do differently so I can also look forward to my tasks with more energy.

Last night I zipped through the halls of our beautiful, new, state-of-the-art Waterford High School.  I stopped in at each of my son's classrooms to meet his teachers and hear about their expectations for the year.  I felt a great sense of pride knowing that our tax dollars were well spent.  Everything about the evening, from the confident and encouraging words of our new Principal Mr. Hauser, to the design and layout of the building, to the newness of the furniture, to the impressiveness of the technology and resources available to our kids, inspired me.  I felt the sense of promise that our kids must also be experiencing as they go from class to class.  Even the teachers reflected an appreciation for their new tools and a positive outlook on the year.

It made me think back to my school years, when life was a fresh piece of sketching paper, waiting for me to draft some lines and fill in sections.  I used an eraser every now and then when I found myself veering in the wrong direction, but I forged on.

We are here to help guide our children as they become who they will discover they want to be.  But they are also here to remind us that we can keep using pencils and erasers too, even if we don't have to.  I guess that's why we buy ourselves the latest electronic gadgets.  There is still much to learn and new skills to develop.

I've been working on my first book for three years now.  I'm not done yet.  Once I finish the manuscript there will be even more work to do that I have never done before; editing, publishing and then finding a market for it.  The unknowns are scary but exciting too.  Maybe we are all works of art in progress and it's time to just draw some more lines.

Practice Makes Progress

How are you doing with your new year's resolution? Reaching out to others with similar goals or with expertise for support is the key to success, regardless of the personal goal.  Forgiving oneself and getting back on track, each time one digresses, is an effective way to achieve long term success.

I have a personal disdain for the term "practice makes perfect."  I heard it all my life and I've had enough.  Reaching toward perfection with every task and goal has a profound effect on the will to keep trying.  It is sometimes counter productive to focus so much on the desired outcome rather than the daily work.  Constant pats on the back are more reassuring than fear of failure.

My goal is to write 750 words or three double-spaced pages per day. There are days when I barely write 250 words and others when I don't get to it at all.  Of course I feel defeated when this happens, but no one can take away the progress that I have made.  At least I am still on track if I get back online and keep writing.  A log has been helpful.  I am accountable to myself each day.  If I miss a day, I note what kept me from doing it that day.  I sometimes also add some other productive thing I might have done that day to help me feel good rather than punish myself.  At the end of the week or month, I analyze my pattern of on track versus off track behavior.  Was the failure acceptable given unexpected challenges or other work that needed to get done?  

My ambitious goals used to be writing at least 750 words toward the book I am working on, but I have found that my creative process doesn't work that way. There are days I need to explore possible themes and work out my ideas in journal format. I have days when I wake up and run to the computer with scenes clearly laid out in my head and I write enough to satisfy three days of writing goals.  I discovered this through the logging method.  For aspiring writers out there, I highly recommend logging on to an online journaling site www.750words.com.   It has really made a difference in my writing life.  By not editing myself and focusing just on regular mind dumps, I am able to remove the usual writer's roadblocks and just write.  At the end of these sessions, I often discover diamonds in the rough which can be elevated to scenes, chapters, articles and blogs.  It has also been beneficial as a general well-being tool, helping me to unclutter my mind and focus better on my daily goals.  

Having a support network has also kept me accountable.  I meet regularly with a group of other serious writers working on developing their writing projects.  We take turns presenting our pieces and critique each others' work.  We give each other deadlines.  I look forward to these check-in points and hearing about their progress inspires me to do the same. Hearing about their challenges prompts me to share advice with them.

The same goes for health goals.  I have a dog so I need to walk him on a daily basis.  This is also good for me.  To help inspire each other, especially during the cold weather, my friends and I try to meet at local parks and walk our dogs together.  Because we look forward to chatting and catching up on life, we end up walking two or three times longer than we normally do when walking our dogs alone.

Sometimes all we need is the company of other people trying to accomplish similar goals.  Another person's perspective, experience, expertise and good advice can help point us in the right direction.  If you or someone you know is struggling alone to get on track with their health and well-being goals, check out these three local opportunities:

• Join a Get Healthy Challenge: Susan Epstein, Certified Health Coach, recently launched a Lose Big-Win Big Contest locally, offering prizes as an incentive.  They shared best kept "secrets" for weight loss and optimal health, offering samples of delicious and healthy food and strategies for lowering or eliminating medications for diabetes, blood pressure and cholesterol.  Contact Susan to see if this program is appropriate for you at 860-437-0233 or susan@gethealthywithsusan or read about weight loss and healthy habits through this website: epsteins.tsfl.com/explore

• Learn more about Nutrition: What you eat has a profound effect on your total well being. You do not need to be overweight to be concerned with your eating habits. A registered Dietitian can help you work towards making healthier food choices by analyzing what you are eating now and making changes that you can actually achieve. Many people need to understand how to read food labels, understand what a portion really is and pay attention to whether they are really hungry. Registered dietitians can guide you and give you the knowledge you need to make lifetime changes in your eating habits. Janine Sitko R.D. has a private practice in East Lyme CT. Contact information:  (860) 739-9488  j9sit@ct.metrocast.net

• Daytime Zumba for Moms with Young Children: Now Moms with young children and infants in tow can have a fun dance workout when they are home during weekday mornings as babysitting is offered during class. Nancy Coleman is offering Zumba on Tuesday and Thursday mornings from 10:00-11:00 a.m. here in Waterford.  Classes are held at Temple Emanu-El which is located at 29 Dayton Road. Try the class for free or contact Nancy for more information at ngc31602@aol.com.

Forget your New Year's Resolutions, make your New Day's Resolution now. 

Is Your Phone Smarter Than You?

Like so many people I used to chastise, I too have fallen from grace.  I admit that I have allowed my cell phone to completely possess me.

     This morning, after I hit the button to close my garage door remote button, I pressed another button at the top of my phone.  Dark screen.  No response.
     I gasped.
     I had failed the evening prior, to follow my daily regimen of charging my cell phone, setting its phone alarm and leaving it within reach on my night stand.  As a result, my entire morning was a half hour behind.
     There were no persistent, high pitched beeps from my phone.  Instead my eyes were forced open by natural daylight streaming through my bedroom window and my ears detected my neighbor's dog's bark alarm at 6:30am.  That half hour cost me.  I missed my yoga stretches and instead of a leisurely morning, lunches were haphazardly packed, breakfasts were flashed on the run.  Because both buses were missed, the kids needed rides to school.  Could I still get to my 9:00 a.m. breakfast meeting on time?
     At the stop sign on Rope Ferry Road, you could hear the clinking of my son's spoon to his ceramic bowl of steaming strawberry oatmeal -- an unusual sound paired with the pop music in the front seat of my car.
     No smart phone meant no way to quickly check my contact info for the location of the meeting.  There was no time to go back into the house and rifle through computer files.  I took for granted I could look at the last minute in the morning, so I only had a vague idea where I was going.  I had been there a handful of times before.  I had a strong visual on the street, the mailbox and the walkway to the front door.  I remember making a left at a restaurant on Route 1, passing two stop signs and then parking at the third stop sign.  But I could not recall the actual street name or building number.  I had no way to call if I got lost or was running late due to traffic.
     I looked at the car clock after dropping off my second child.  I could make it if all went smoothly, but there certainly was not enough time to go back home to look for a car phone charger cord.
     "What did I do before the cell phone was invented?" I thought to myself.
     I would have asked several days ahead, not only for the address and phone number of the destination, but also for the directions.  Otherwise, I would have flipped open a street map and highlighted the route.  If I got lost or was running late, I would have been able to stop at a street phone booth to call.
     "What did I do before the smart phone?" I again asked myself.
     I would have done a map search on the home computer and printed the directions to bring along.
     But the smart phone had made my brain lazy.  I relied on it any random second of the day.  I made dog grooming appointments while walking the dog.  I confirmed hair and doctor appointments while waiting on the grocery line or at the gas station.  I never bothered doing any research the day before having to drive two hours to my daughter's gymnastics meets.
     My smart phone knew everything.
     It told me when to wake up, who to call, when to do a task, where to go and answered virtually any question that came up during debates with friends.
     Ironically, despite the fact that I programmed my phone to nag me to prepare to leave 15 minutes early to my appointments, I seemed to always arrive 15 minutes late.  I kept fooling myself.  I no longer had a natural sense of time.  I allowed my phone to become smarter than me.
     Fortunately, this morning I had the good sense to have faith in myself.  I had no choice but to rely on my visualization skills.  I used to call it my photographic memory in high school.  I could see where I had to go in my head.
     I was encouraged by the fact that I got both kids to school on time, so I proceeded to the highway and just drove, trusting that the universe would help me get to my destination within the remaining time.  I made all the turns and stops that my body remembered.  And when I finally walked through the front door, I smiled as I saw the wall clock.
     I was on time.  On the dot, in fact.  I had outsmarted my phone.

Make Mom Happy

What is the best way to celebrate a truly Happy Mother's Day? The trick is knowing Mom well enough to see what is the most meaningful way to say thank you to HER.

A butterfly visiting my petunias one Mother's Day.

      I'm a Mom who has a Mom and Mom-in-law. Whenever Mother's Day approaches, I experience stress, not relaxation. Why? Because every year I worry about whether both Moms will be disappointed once again, because they will not receive the visit they wish they were having from my family. No matter what my family has planned for me on Mother's Day, I find myself feeling guilty that I didn't plan something that included our Moms.

     "They're grandmothers. You're the mother now," my husband says sympathetically.

     "But they don't stop being mothers to us," I hear myself say.

     Both Moms appreciate being recognized on or around Mother's Day, which has been impossible for us to do in person for many years now, since we moved 2.5 hours away. It was easier before we had children, when we lived less than a half hour away from both of them. We popped in for brunch with one and did an early dinner with the other one later in the day. Both Moms were happy to get a visit from daughter/son-in-law and daughter-in-law/son. But ever since I became a Mom, I realized that I want to be available for my kids to celebrate within our own little family unit. I secretly hope I can be completely useless to them during the entire day, free of chores and anxiety of any kind.

An azalea flower in my garden.

      One year, I just wanted the entire day to plant petunias, impatiens and marigolds in containers on my deck. I remember enjoying a visit from a slinky red fox who wandered into my backyard that afternoon. Another year, we enjoyed a walk and picnic as a family at the Connecticut College Arboretum. We picked up sandwiches and drinks from Subway and brought along our cameras. I still admire the photographs we took of the various trees, flowering bushes and water lilies on the pond that day. My favorite photos are the off-center pictures the children took of me with the blue sky in the background, shot from their vantage point below. Another time we decided to see the new flick Iron Man followed by a sushi dinner, my favorite. It didn't matter what we did. All I cared about was that I was with my family and that I didn't have to cook, clean, drive or nag anyone to do anything.

      So where does that leave Moms of adult children? Someday that will be me, when my children have become responsible for themselves and their husbands and their own children. Hey, wait a minute. That's the key. They will be responsible for themselves, their husbands and their own children! That means as a grandparent someday I will not have the same need to receive a physical break from incessant family rearing, shuttling and household chores. I would still want the acknowledgement though. I would want to know that they care about me and recognize all of my efforts through the years, to help them become the best that they could be. I would want to know that they still needed me in their life in some way, whether it be for advice or just someone willing to listen.

My lilac bush in full bloom.

      So make your Mom happy on Mother's Day. Show her that you thought of her and appreciate having her in your life even if you live far away. You don't need to pack the kids' suitcases and drive 200 miles just to have brunch with her for the day. Maybe it is a beautiful arrangement of flowers because she never buys fresh flowers. Maybe it's a video chat so she can see how big the children have grown. Maybe it's a comfortable new fleece throw emblazoned with her favorite family photo. Maybe it's a membership to fruit of the month club because she's trying to cut back on chocolate and sweets. Maybe it's a book of Cross Sound ferry tickets so she'll be encouraged to visit you and her grandchildren often. Maybe it's a home-made card signed by every member of the family, even the dog.

      If you live close enough to set aside a part of the day for a personal visit, you will surely surpass all of her expectations. Take her to brunch, lunch or dinner. Take her to the movies, to a show or to a ballgame. Take her to the salon, to the park or to the museum. Have her over for a slice of pie and a cup of tea and pick her brain about her past. She would love to tell you stories. If you are inclined to include her in your family's plans, by all means invite her to tag along!

      In my town, the local Patch.com site is accepting favorite photo submissions of "Mom and Me." The simplest and most legendary gesture we can make to our Moms is to tell the world why we think she is the best Mom!  To all my readers who are Moms...may you have a truly Happy Mother's Day!

A Think Full of Dishes

A Think Full of Dishes

Behold, the beauty of a sink full of dishes. Are you the one in the home who gets stuck washing the most dishes?
     Most households have a dish washing machine, but it is still possible to have a sink full AND a dish washing machine full of dirty dishes. There are well meaning spouses and family members among us who love to cook and eat the delicious meals cranked out in the kitchen on a daily basis but won't get involved with the clean-up process.
     I don't mind hand washing dishes. Don't get me wrong. I adore my dish washing machine and use it often but from time to time when I've had a particularly busy week, I have allowed the dishes to pile up for two reasons.
     One, it's my passive aggressive way of protesting the lack of helpers in the house.
     "I need a fork," one family member will eventually say. "Where can I find a fork?"
     "Tons of them in the sink," I'll reply. "Help yourself. I have to go for an errand. Be right back."
     Eventually someone gets the idea, pops in a dish detergent gel pack in the little compartment of the dish washing machine and hits the start button. When I return from my errand, I might see some dirty dishes missing from the sink.
     Two, I use washing dishes by hand as my part of my creative writing or strategy planning process.
     First, I'll look for my preferred channel on Pandora Internet Radio usually instrumental nouveau flamenco or new age, sometimes alternative rock. Next, I'll pump up the volume. I then assess the dish pile-up and generate my plan of attack.
     Of course. There are glasses buried under haphazard piles of bowls and dishes, thankfully still intact. There are stray spoons and forks in between the dishes and bowls, making the piles unstable and inviting breakage and a couple are peering out of the garbage disposal. I immediately sort like items. I pull all the cutlery and place them in the largest dirty bowl or pot on the counter. I neatly stack all the bowls and dishes and place all the glasses on the counter.
     If the dishwasher is not full, I fill it up quickly with cutlery, glasses and dishes. This maximizes the space used in the dishwasher and significantly cuts down the amount needed to be hand washed. Then, I set aside the plastic containers, larger casserole servers, bowls, pots and pans and super fragile items for hand washing. Once I've hit the start button on the dish washing machine, that's my green light to start hand washing each neat dirty pile I've created. That's when the magic begins.
     There's something calming about having put some kind of order in the dirty dish madness before tackling the chore. It feels like I'm halfway done because I can see the bottom of the sink. Finally, my mind's gateway is able to open.  I robotically wash and set the now clean dishes upside down on a towel on the counter to air dry. I am no longer thinking, "what a mess" or "I can't believe I'm stuck with this again."
     My thoughts instead have turned to the possibilities of the story idea that presented itself in my dream from the night before. I wonder about the man walking his Irish Wolfhound that is so huge that the dog's head towers over his when they are in a standing embrace. I start designing in my head the next promotional flyer I will create to support a non-profit fundraiser I am planning. I decide I'm tired of buying the same ingredients and cooking the same old tired family dishes each week. Once I'm done with the dishes, I run to the kitchen book shelf and flip to a recipe I admired weeks ago from the Flat Belly Diet Book. Grilled scallops with kiwi asparagus salsa. Mmmm. That is appetizing. The dirty dish stress has evaporated from my forehead and shoulders. I'm ready to create.
     I believe dirty dishes are a metaphor for the anecdotes, the ideas and inspirations that come and go in our minds every day. Sometimes we don't allow ourselves time to dump or process some of these thoughts through some kind of meditative activity, be it walking, running or, say it with me, washing dishes. We sometimes let them pile up and overwhelm us.  It's actually the best time to organize our thoughts, just like we do with the dishes.
     So the next time you are looking at a disaster in your sink or other areas of the house for that matter, think about the meditative opportunity that has just presented itself to you. Turn sink time into think time!

Leapfrogging Spring

Ah, how positively inspiring the sun's rays are when their warmth penetrates our eager souls.  Weary of the non-existent winter, folks around town have embraced what's next, as moody Mother Nature gives us a taste of spring and summer this week in Southeastern CT.  It is so bazaar to be enjoying the same weather in New England that my sister has in San Diego, CA!

Last Thursday was the first sign that true change was in the air.  As I rounded the neighborhood with my dog that morning, I was struck by the warmth of the sun on my face.  I had to pause and just stand there to face directly at the sun, soaking in the rising degrees.  As we continued our walk, I realized I was clearly the most over-dressed person on the road.  I had on my long down coat and my knit ski cap and gloves and thought nothing of it at first, attributing my lack for warmth as a daily thing.  After all, I'm originally from the tropics, so even if the weather forecasters say that the high will be in the 60's, I pack on the layers out of habit. There have been enough days when the morning started off in the 30's, much to my chagrin.

There were many signs in the environment that we were clearly beyond the big thaw.  First, I noticed my neighbor's tulip and crocus sprouts, green and purple tips poking through the hard ground at the edge of their lawn beds.  Next, I saw a runner in shorts and a T-shirt.  Alright, I thought to myself, the ski cap has to go.  It's just embarrassing now.  And put away the gloves too.  I shoved them all in my pockets.  Next, I heard new bird songs tweeting in the air.  It was time to refill the bird feeders again.  I noticed a red blob sitting in the heart of a bare bush.  I checked for any movement or sign of life.  Was it a red cardinal just sitting there, mocking me as well?  Yes, it too, was enjoying the sun and his impulse was to stay put, to soak in the rays.

Over the past few days, more signs of the next season have emerged.  My dog interrupted his own play to look around in response to very loud squawking overhead; it was a flock of over 70 seagulls flying in V formation, announcing their return from the South.  In Waterford, it's nice to see groups of dogs being walked by their pet parents and friends not only in the morning now, but in the late afternoon as well.  These doggy parades take place around the neighborhood and at special destinations like Harkness State Park.  Kids are outside at the playgrounds again, riding their bikes and playing basketball at the end of their driveways.

Outdoor establishments are also taking advantage of the next season's earlier arrival this year.  Bobby's Place, a cute little lobster roll and clam shack in Niantic, was serving customers outdoors last week.  Apparently Frosty Treats, also in Niantic, has already opened for business.  DQ's website says they will open for their 60th season this Saturday, March 17th.  In New London, Fred's Shanty and Captain Scott's Lobster Dock are already open as well, taking advantage of Lent observers looking for a good fish lunch.  My favorite sign, of course, was spotting several convertible cars zipping around town with their tops down, in March!  Very entertaining.  What a coup, to enjoy the double whammy of warmth and a light breeze lifting your hair in the wind.  I couldn't help but wave to them in cheer.    

One more clear sign Spring is here; when my daughter got off the bus the other day, she begged, 

“Please, Mommy, can I do my work outside on the deck?  I just have to be outside.  It's so beautiful out.”       

She sat on a deck chair, with a folder on her lap.  She closed her eyes, crossed her legs, placed her clasped hands on her lap and held her face high toward the sun's rays, sighing in satisfaction.  Now that's a true picture of Spring.

Good bye shovel, hello rake!

Soul Matters

Soul matters.  What is burning deep inside us as a want, is important.  We are all born with an imprint of what makes us special.  Like flower buds, we each have the potential to bloom with the right nurturing.  It just takes a long time for some of us to recognize who we are and what it takes to make us sing from within.  Hopefully once we honor our souls, our flower petals can open wide in the full sun.
    I have always known since I was a little girl that I wanted to write.  I took every opportunity to write outside of school.  Sometimes it would be a journal entry.  Sometimes it was a letter to the electric company on behalf of my immigrant parents.  Sometimes it was an attempt to write a story.  Other times it was just to share with the world what was going on in my head and in my heart, knowing that the world was never actually going to read it.  I always wrote the truth.  The pen and paper were my best friends.  I usually felt a lot better after writing.
    I was somewhat still on track for a future in writing during high school, even if I was attending a science and math magnet high school.  It was an honor to be accepted into this selective program.  I had taken an entrance examination and my parents and I had prayed for the opportunity to go there.  And it worked.  I got in.  I happily attended Experimental Physics, Mechanical Drawing and Calculus classes along with Literature and Creative Writing classes.  The problem was not during high school when I was aiming to be accepted into a good university liberal arts program.  After freshman year I realized in time that I was following the wrong path toward an unwanted future in engineering.  The following year I declared my major in Literature and Rhetoric but it still all became rather confusing for the next 2 decades.
    After graduation, my absolute, positive certainty about being a writer someday instead became a dream with many questions.  During the early 1990s there was a recession.  People were lucky to have a job offer at all.  Maybe I could write a book on the side, someday, but in what practical profession could I apply my degree?  Would I teach?  Would that be enough to pay rent?  How about law or business instead?
    So I took a fork in the road that led to the business side of advertising, the media department, where my job was to buy print or outdoor space and radio or television broadcast air time.  It's ironic that I did that professionally for 8 years on behalf of my high visibility million dollar advertising clients, and yet every day now that I am free to write, I am battling to carve the right space and time to do what I was always meant to do: write!
    The problem is that what we do for a living is directly attached to our ego and our exterior fashion.  People judge us when we say what we do for a living.  Does it fit us?  Are we providing for ourselves and our families adequately?  Are we making our folks proud?  At some point we all submit to these very revealing questions.  The true question is, are we listening to our inner voice?  What's it saying because that knows more about us than everyone we think knows us inside and out. 
    The old adage is that we don't mind working when we are doing something we genuinely want to do.  There is no question that if I was already a writer when my children were born that I would have found a way to balance my all my loves in my life correctly.  Instead, I found myself writing media plans, press releases, copy for websites and brochures, introductory sales letters, pitch letters, leader speeches, feature articles, news articles, newsletter blurbs...the list goes on. 
    I kept thinking, this isn't me.  My family comes first.  I need to get back on track with my original goal to write.  Books.  Children's books.  Books for women.  Books that inform about something I've learned.  Books that absorb women, make them care and laugh or cry.  So I walked away from promising tracks in advertising, market research, journalism, communications.  I kept getting promoted because I was a hard worker.  I had good business sense.  I learned fast and I was efficient.  They never would have guessed that I was so unhappy.  They figured me for a "lifer."  Well I fooled them all, especially myself. 
    But I do not regret anything I've ever written.  Because I realize that I would not have this perspective or steadfastness now had I not experienced other kinds of writing.  Perhaps that is why I am now able to be direct in my writing and softer when the occasion calls for it.  Perhaps every single person I have met, likeable and grossly unappreciated, will somehow work their way into my books as characters.
    I certainly have met my fare share of pleasant and repulsive types.  Some led hateful, pushy, lazy, smarmy, manipulative and whiney lives while others were sincere, saintly, cheerful, hard-working, earnest and truly inspiring against the odds.  I have worked in such crazy environments that it's a miracle I ever survived them.  I have worked with stoic and robotic workhorses who must also have a soul somewhere in their bodies, screaming to be noticed or to express their true selves. 
    Yes, there are many stories to tell.

Roadway to Rock

Rocking with Dad and his cousin on drums.

I have a healthy son who knows who he is.  He left school today burning to learn more.  Something he doesn't already know.  He has been extremely disappointed with his after-school talented and gifted program, saying that he has not learned anything, that he is not excited by it, that he expected much more from the program.  Science.  More science.  That's what he wants. 
    "But if you go too far ahead, then won't you be bored again when you get to high school science?" I said as I signaled left, pausing with the minivan at the school stop sign until the crossing guard gave the go sign.
    "I don't mind if I learn too much.  At least I'll get into honors science," he said.
    I guess I'll take that as a pat on the back.  I've raised a son who values learning and embraces the unknown.
    "Well, you know you can go ahead and learn all kinds of new material on your own anytime.  You don't need a teacher or a textbook to do that," I continued.
    "What do you mean?"
    "This morning you said you want to learn how to write a song.  You like writing poetry.  Poetry can become lyrics.  I can help you with the creative writing process if you want.  Just don't expect it to come to you all at once.  I've learned that you have to start with thinking about what excites you or saddens you or upsets you.  Think about what you have to say to the world about that topic.  I know a song has an intro, a beginning, middle and end.  But you really should speak to your Dad about songwriting.  He's been writing songs since he was your age."
    This conversation was enough to extinguish his state of frustration and ignite his desire to do new things.
    "Okay, Mom.  After homework today, I'll practice more of that song from yesterday.  I'll work on some MathCounts problems to get ready for the competition and then I'll teach Connor a song."
    After dinner, he jumped from his seat as if he got bitten by another bug.
    "Mom, is it okay if I practice guitar before I do my homework?  I have all this energy and I need to get it out!"
    "Sure!  That's one of the best ways to release energy.  One of my favorites.  Go ahead.  Have fun."  And with that, he ran up the stairs and started strumming on his father's portable guitar. 
    I was really very impressed with him yesterday at his first official rock band practice with two of his best friends.  All of his closest friends play some kind of instrument; some of them more than one.  They were on a mission to learn a rock song, preferably a simple one with only three chords.
    He buzzed around the basement, on the side which is known to family and friends as Dad's dungeon, turning switches on the mother board and amps.  He checked to make sure his friends' rhythm and bass guitars were patched into the right amps.  I helped him set up the keyboard.  He tested all the connections.  Then he released a burst of energy at the electronic drum kit, displaying his coordinated pitter patter on the snare, bass drum and cymbals.  He then announced the name of the first song their band was to learn.  He tracked down the guitar tabs on the Internet as his father suggested and began helping his friends find their way around the chords.  Whether it was the rhythm guitar, bass guitar or the keyboard, he knew enough how to show them what chords and notes to play for the melody.  He is not proficient at any of these instruments, including the drums, but he knew enough to make some semblance of the song. 
    I marveled at how the boys worked together trying to find their way.  Classically trained through the school's orchestra and band, none of these boys had ever had to find their own way through a tune by ear, much less work together to play something that sounds like a few measures of a real song!  Over two hours went by and these boys kept at it.  They only stopped to munch on hot curly fries, banana chips and iced tea that I brought down as a snack.  And then they were back in practice mode.
    I was pleased not only to see that they could engage in an activity other than playing X-Box for this amount of time.  I was very happy when they agreed to play whatever they learned for me and my Blackberry's voice recorder.  I recognized the tune immediately.  They were synchronized.  I shared in their brief moments of musical connection.  I was a very proud mother and witness to twelve-year-old male bonding through the art of music.