Regroup

For a while now, I have been acutely aware of a "building".  A "steeping", a gradual increase in pressure that has begun to make it hard to think clearly. Hard to see direction or feel hope ... I have felt like a flailing swimmer being caught in surf too strong for my ability.  Every time I come up for air, a wave comes crashing  down on top of me.  Churning sand, water,  seaweed current.  My lungs burn, my limbs grow heavy and my vision begins to dim. Every gasp of air includes large amounts of seawater ... All I can do is pray that the waves will soon calm or that I will have an infusion of supernatural strength that will help me swim to shore ... In the midst of all this spluttering and desperation, a welcomed break presents itself and I find myself on the shore, enjoying the playful breeze as it musses my hair and toys mischievously with the hem of my dress.  The sun is dipping below the horizon, delicately bathing the heavens in soft pastels and reflecting light off shimmering waves.  This is my favourite of places to be when I need to regroup and refresh.  Here, where the ocean's relentless song sings me to sleep at night and calls me from my rest in the mornings.  Where Sunsets look like God's masterpiece and time takes a slower measure.  It's where I return again and again ... 

Sunset on the beach

Moonlight

Seaweed

Friends Who Inspire Me: Bernadette Ryan

One of the things I love about Facebook, is how it connects us to everyone. It gives us access to amazing stories and inspiring lives. It offers us a place to share our own journeys and beliefs. It can be a real exercise in tolerance and patience sometimes and like with everything, should be used with restraint, moderation and certainly not when you've had one too many with boys at the local.

I've been fortunate enough to have a really great group of very talented and inspiring Facebook friends and acquaintances. These folks run the gamut of being artists to just “ordinary” folks reaching for extraordinary goals. Each of their stories and accomplishments help to push me forward on my own journey in life.

One such Facebook friend is Bernadette Ryan. About two years ago, she started on this amazing journey into fitness, setting her sights on competing in figure competitions. I have watched her progress and cheered her on ever since she first appeared on my newsfeed with a motivational quote. What makes her so inspiring to me is that she is just a “regular” mom of three, with all that comes with being a mom. She has the same stresses and pressures that most of us face every day and yet she had the courage not just to start this amazing journey, but to continue on in it.

Me: Children? How many?

BR: I have three children. 21, 18 and 15

Me: Are we allowed to ask, “How old are you?”

BR: 39. I'll be 40 in April.

Me: Brothers and sisters?

BR: One of each. Lol.

Me: What are currently listening to on your iPod?

BR: Wow, so many different songs. But if I train, I usually have HUGE ear phones on. Headphones on; world off)

Me: What is your favourite track and why?

BR: “PlayHard” by David Guetta. It gives me *woema and brings out the beast in me … LOL

*woema is a South African expression meaning something akin to “oomph” or “pumped” or “drive” LOVE that she used it!

Me: What inspires you?

BR: I inspire me. Many things and people will you down and disappoint and hurt you, but you will never let yourself down.

Me: Any favourite movies or books?

BR: Favourite movie is 21 Jumpstreet. Favourite book is a journal about how a women can look after themselves.

Me: How did you get started in fitness?

BR: I moved into a new home where my bedroom is just mirrors. Being single, I was all I could see. All the fat, the bulges … everything!

Me: Did you need a trainer?

BR: At first I lost a lot of my weight so I did cardio for about six months. Only then did I get a trainer.

Me: How many times do you meet with your trainer?

BR: I started with six times a week but we have cut it down to four. So we can do different muscle groups on different days.

Me: Is it hard sticking to the dietary requirements?

BR: Yes, it is difficult. You need to buy the right foods, which can be expensive, especially if you 're doing this alone and your family still eats “normal” food in front of you. I could never stick to a proper plan, so instead I eat my food out of a small dessert bowl. That's the size of your stomach. So if  you eat in small portions you give your body the chance to digest. It's easier. For example: at dinner divide it into three. Eat one portion, wait an hour, eat the next portion. Third portion, give to the dogs! They'll love it.

Me: What is your most favourite part of your dietrary plan and what is your least favourite?

BR: There is no favourite or least favourite. In fitness it's “either/or”. There's no in-between. Just know what goes in must be used and used properly. If it's junk food, your body will have no use for it and will just store it.

Me: What does a typical work out day look like?

BR: I train in the mornings from 5am to 6am. I row on the Concept 2 machine. Then I do abs classes and some legs. Leave at 7am. Afternoons: 4:30pm I train for an hour with my trainer and I do killer abs classes. I train from Monday morning until Friday morning, then I rest the weekend.

Me: What exercises do you enjoy doing most?

BR: All exercises. I choose what I enjoy and give it my all.

Me: What exercises do you not enjoy doing?

BR: Lunges, but that is the best for bums.

Me: Do you ever have days when you feel, “Ugh! I just don't don't feel like working out today!”

BR: Yes, some afternoons, I do, but knowing my trainer is waiting for me and I lose my session, makes me put on my *takkies and just go for it!

*Takkies = a South Africanism for sneakers or trainers

Me: How do you keep yourself motivated and focused EVERYDAY?

BR: I have joined so many fitness pages on Facebook. So when I open up Facebook, it's all about fitness. Most groups are American, so when I wake up, they have come back from their evening work out and are all amped and ready to take over the world. LOL!! So, I thrive on their motivation.

Me: What has been the highlight of your journey so far?

BR: The respect I have earned. The confidence I can so easily carry. And the ability to jump up a wall or run after my children. I have the ability to play again.

Me: What have you learnt about yourself you didn't know before starting this journey?

BR: That stress we have in life is actually all imaginary. Most of it, we can't change. (In other words, if you can't change it, why stress over it) But walk in the gym, look at a weight that says “pick me up” or the row machine that says, “row me for one hour,” that's REAL stress. That is the stress we can change. When you experience that stress you will realise life is actually quite easy.

Me: Every great feat accomplished by a person, has been achieved because there are people who are encouraging and cheering the person on. Who has that been for you? And how important has that been for you through this process?

BR: My family. My friends. The people at the gym. I walk in and people, I have never seen before, take time to say, “hi!” That shows me they respect me.

Me: What do you hope to achieve in this journey?

BR: I hope to take it all the way. I want to show the world NOTHING in life has the ability to kill you but YOU, yourself.

Me: When is your first competition?

BR: I was hoping this year, but I think next year. I don't want to take steroids or growth hormones to help me get there. I will rather train for longer and do it naturally. I know people say it's impossible to win a competition if you're not on stuff but then again, when I was 28, the doctors told me I had cancer and wouldn't make it to 34!

Me: What advice would you have for folks who may want to start doing this. How should they go about it?

BR: I would say, start walking at first. At least *3kms a day. As you progress with walking, then you can start running from one lamp post to the next. Walk the next one and run the following, and so it goes. I would also recommend crunches. 4 sets of 20 reps.

*3km converts to 1.86 miles

I'd like to end this with a comment Bernadette posted the other day that really spoke to me.

“Your Body is your best friend. Your body will never let you down where everybody else might. All you got to do is be good back to your body. Feed it with good food and use your body as much as possible. After all, that's what it was given to us for. Use it.”

I wish you everything of the best in your endeavors, Bernadette. Thanks for proving that you are never too old, or been through too much to start something positive and new in your life!

Lessons in Fear

Ever seem to have a recurring "theme" show up in your life.  They stay for a while, until you've accomplished/learned what it is you've needed to and then the next "theme" starts.  Almost like selecting "random" on your screen saver settings.  You just never know what image or pattern is going to emerge next!

It seems the theme for me at the moment is, "Fear: Facing It, Acknowledging It, Pushing Past It".  Notice, I didn't have an "overcoming" part in there.  In my mind, "Overcome" conjures images of great battles that are fought and then won.  The enemy defeated and rendered powerless.  I cannot say that of myself in relation to fear.

I use to think of fear as being something that should be "overcome".  My many attempts to overcome fear left me feeling even more powerless and weak.  Each failure cementing the fear more solidly within my heart and mind.  Like a big old playground bully, it would taunt me, shame me, pester me.  Mercilessly shouting out lists of things that I could never accomplish, be or do.  Like many who are bullied, I accepted It's daily appearance in my life and simply saw it as "Life According to Me."  Then something changed.  Nothing really big, just something small.  I found myself questioning the taunting tirades.  Not all at once, but simple, small statements.  One at a time. As I have written at length, it started with taking horseback riding lessons as an adult.  There was lots to push past.  I was very obese when I started.  When was the last time you saw a rotund rider jumping fences or doing dressage?  I was almost forty years of age.  My forty year old, substantial body found the optimal rider position very unnatural and would scream it's protest after every lesson.  The first lesson was the most mortifying.  Five minutes into it, my thighs were VISIBLY shaking!  I could see the instructor question the wisdom of her decision to let me take lessons.  I chose to ignore, what in my opinion, was a disapproving look and surprised her by showing up the following week for my second lesson.  Wanting to get my legs stronger and my body in better shape, I had started exercising three times a week.  A month later, my legs were much stronger, I had lost a fair amount of weight and was generally beginning to feel better about myself.  There was just this little problem with my heels.  You see in riding, it's very important to keep your heels down.  Once again, my body started rebelling, and my right ankle in particular.  It would begin hurting and sometimes be so stiff it was almost impossible to get my heels down.  My trainer spoke to me about my exercise routine and as she continued speaking, it began to feel to me like she was trying to discourage my exercise routine.  I was saddened.  Discouraged.  Normally at this point, I would let Fear's argument win out.  You're too old to be doing this.  And exercising is messing up your riding.  You're never going to be good enough and never going to succeed!  You're making a fool of yourself!   Instead, I decided to continue with both my exercise routine and my riding.  I found exercises that would help increase the flexibility in my ankles and added them to my little circuit.  My ankles still would hurt every now and then, but they were staying down, and I was getting stronger.  Then winter came with it's icy wind that froze your marrow and hurt your teeth? Huh?  That can't be right?!  I did what every mature adult does in situations like those.  I ignored the pain.  Tried to keep my mouth closed on cold morning riding lessons or hacks and hoped it would get better.  It didn't.  So finally, I had to face my next fear and head off to the dentist.  God was kind to me and had the perfect "set-up" arranged.  The young lady that use to babysit for me was working as a dental assistant for a local dentist in town.  When I had mentioned in a FB status that my mouth was hurting, she immediately responded with a "Come see us!"  I "uhmmed" and "aaaahed" and finally gave in.  The initial consult revealed things were far worse than I had imagined.  I would need a crown and a couple of fillings.  All I heard was ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching interspersed with screams and cries echoing from a medieval torture chamber.  I squared my shoulders and took it one little step and alteration at a time.  My courage was rewarded by discovering my friend's employer to be a very competent, knowledgeable and gentle dentist!  Visits to dentist have become something I look forward to now and not something I run away from. And no, I did not end up in unspeakable pain, mouth forever ruined and me relegated to hide from all polite society.  I also did not embarrass myself by screaming like a banshee either!

My daughter had her own little face off with fear the other day.  She was having her little riding lesson. She was doing well until, while practising a jump, she lost her stirrup.  I could see the I want to get off and never do this again look flash briefly across her little face.  I walked over to her, to make sure she was okay, and to make sure she knew how very proud I was that she had not lost her seat on her pony during all that.  I encouraged her to give it another go.  She looked at me and her trainer doubtfully, but urged her pony forward and redid the jump.  This time she looked like a pro!  On the way home we were talking about her lesson.  She told me that she had been scared, but when she got it right the next time over, she felt so proud of herself.  I explained to her that being brave doesn't mean you're not scared.  It means you are scared, but you choose to push past that feeling and complete the task regardless.

I've used these little lessons in Fear to help me in other aspects in my life.  I've decided not to focus on "overcoming" fear.  I choose instead, to push past it and work through it.  I am still aware of it's taunts.  I still feel it's presence depending on the situation, but I look it squarely in the eye and then push past it.  No longer do I allow it to immobilize me.  Or silence me.  I choose not to allow it to dismiss me or minimize me.  I see it.  I feel it, and then I move through it.

There will be many more battles fought against this bully, but as long as I continue to move on, it's ability to get the better of me, diminishes.

The End of Award Season

I have to confess to being an "Award Season" junkie.  I love watching the various award shows and do try to see at least a couple of the pictures up for "Best Motion Picture".  It's also the time of year I re-order and add to my Netflix movie queue.  Of course, most of the movies that have nominees won't be out on DVD for a while yet, which makes the suspense all the more delectable.

It's hard to say which ceremony is my absolute favorite.  Each one offers a little something different.  For example:  The Golden Globes has TV and movie stars all in one room.  It's a overall, more relaxed affair, and this year was memorable thanks, in part, to the wonderful job of hosting accomplished by Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.   I suspect it's this "mixing" of big and little screen genres which has led to more and more movie stars showing up in television series.  Not being an actor myself, I cannot say for sure, but I have often wondered if TV actors were slightly looked down on by their Silver Screen counterparts.  If they were, I suspect that this prejudice has diminished as more and more Big Screen stars migrate to the the little screen.  There was Keira Sedgwick in The Closer, Kevin Bacon in "The Following", Alfred Molina and Ving Rhames in Monday Mornings to mention just a few.  I also suspect that it's this coming together that has begun to change how our entertainment is being delivered.  Netflix has recently started producing it's own "TV series" which it releases all at once and it's subscribers can decide if they want to watch it in marathon fashion or in installments.  Their recent offering, "House of Cards" based on an English production that ran in the '90's (I think), is riveting and stars Robin Wright and Kevin Spacey.  Well worth watching!  But I digress!

The next award show following the Golden Globes, is usually the SAG awards.  What makes this award so special to the actors is that your fellow actors vote for you.  Who doesn't like being recognized by their industry peers?!  To my mind, the SAGs are a lovely mix of the Golden Globes informality but slightly tempered by Oscar-like formality.  In between there are all the music industry award shows too.  Which brings us to the culmination of award season in the Oscars.

I have to admit to just LOVING the Oscars.  And the Red Carpet (or gauntlet) in particular.  It's those cheesy red carpet interviews that give us a glimpse into the real person behind all the wonderful characters that you have come to love and drool over in the past year (or decades).  This year was no exception.  Kristin Chenoweth's interviews were so engaging.  Choosing to steer away from the usual "what are you wearing" questions, she opted for fun and irreverent, which I think, better drew out the star's true personalities.

Seth Macfarlane did a great job of hosting and the show itself had some wonderful surprises.  I loved that the theme for this year was Celebrating the Musical.  It seems only fitting to pay homage to something that has been so integral in movies since the very beginning!  I would like to add, that I just loved the Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers-esque dance number performed by Charlize Theron and Channing Tatum.  Totally dreamy!  That's not to mention the wonderful music numbers from Chicago, Dreamgirls and my new favorite musical on the silver screen, Les Meserables.  This girl was swooning and crying.  I was so inspired, I almost broke out into my "dancing elephant" routine.  It's when in my head, I am moving as gracefully as Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire but in reality, I look like a Elephant in a tutu.  Sadly, all the magic of the award season is at an end now, and it seems that the entertainment world in general, is recovering from the  swath of parties and dinners and parties and soirees and parties .... and did I mention parties.  That's the only explanation I have for the sudden run of re-runs on almost all the television networks this past week.  I know it will be pointed out that in actual fact, we are gearing up for "sweeps" weeks.  However, I stand by my belief that it is networks recovering from really big hangovers from the indulgent glitz and glamor that makes up the magical award season.

A huge congratulations to all the winners!  Thanks for making 2012 a really memorable year at the movies!

On Finding Courage and Impetus of Muses

I cannot remember how old I was when I first fell in love with horses. I know I was very young, because it feels as though the desire to ride horses has always been with me. Unfortunately, I didn't grow up in a family who could afford riding lessons, and my copious pleas for a equine friend, fell on semi-deaf ears. Any, and every opportunity I had to ride, I'd take. As a youngster, there were but a small handful. Eventually, I accepted that I would probably never be able to learn how to ride and jump like Gonda Betrix or Anneli Wuckerpfennig.

 Life goes on, but I never lost my love for horses or my desire to learn to ride. History has a way of repeating itself, and in my home it was no different. My little girl starting asking about riding. Inquiries were made and then something truly wonderful happened. The Olympics. And Mr Hiroshi Hoketsu. From the first moment I heard about him, I was awestruck. Mr Hoketsu was the oldest Olympian to compete. 70 years of age. He may not have placed very highly in the rankings, but the minute he entered that arena, he became a winner to me. Here was someone who defied the norms, worked hard and followed his passion. He was the epitome of, "You're never too old." He was the inspiration that gave me the courage to seek riding lessons as an adult. In the riding world, I am considered a "green" rider. Totally wet behind the ears and having to play catch up with youngsters who have been riding since birth. There are days, I admit, when I look at the teenagers my trainer works with and hear that little whisper, "what are you doing here!"

It's not for me to question why things work out the way they do.  It is for me to embrace it though.  On this journey to fulfilling a dream, I have met some wonderful people.  Some have helped me and others have inspired me as much, as Mr Hoketsu did.  One friend has been riding since she was quite young.  I love watching her work with horses.  The fluidity of her movements,  the ease with which she is able to  melt with her horse until they become a single entity.  A team.  Both learning.  Both improving.  Watching her train her animals is just as fascinating.  With seemingly very little effort she teaches her ponies or horses exactly what it is she wants them to do.  Most of the time they give it to her, without argument.  But every once in a while, they dig their heels in and an argument might ensue.  She never gives up, never loses her seat and always manages to stay calm.  Watching her work with her horses, inspires me to want to try to aspire to become better, more knowledgeable.  Then there's my trainer, Lauren Romanelli.  An amazing woman who can make me feel like a million dollars even on the days when that little whisper is nagging at me.  She patiently teaches, encourages and corrects.  All while still taking lessons herself, because a really GREAT trainer is never done learning.  They are always trying to improve their skills. Pushing themselves as hard as they push their students.  I can actually feel the difference in how I am riding now compared to when I first started.  She too started riding at a very young age.  Unlike most kids who get to  start out on ponies, my trainer had to start out on Thoroughbreds because that's all they had at the riding school she went to.  Needless to say, there were many falls.  After each one, she'd get up and determinedly get back on her mount.  In college she studied Equine Science and has gone on to make a career out of her passion while becoming an amazing Eventer.  Her love for what she does and for horses, is infectious and you can't help but feel as enthusiastic and determined when you are around her.  Both these amazing ladies have inspired me to be confident.  To try.  To never give up. To work hard.  Stay focused.  Keep practising.

Which brings me to the day I had Wednesday.  At the moment, my friend and I are taking care of a sweet Thoroughbred for another friend.  The terms of the agreement stated that I would be responsible for keeping this sweet boy socialized and exercised.    It's here that I have to digress a little.  You see, as little experience as I have had with actual riding, I have never been afraid of horses.  EVER.  I have been kicked, bucked, been run off with, reared with, lost my stirrup and come off and still, I have never been afraid of horses.  Not even the horse that may have just acted out with me.  I know that there are some "monsters" out there, but I tend to believe, probably very idealistically, that even the "monsters" can be convinced to become civil, if paired up with the right rider.

Rico (the Thoroughbred), was no stranger to me.  His owner and I use to ride together.  I had gotten on his back once, while on a lead line, to feel what a canter felt like.  On the ground, he is a real puppy dog.  Follows his owner around, will do anything for treats and likes to play.  The next time I tried to get on him, was after being away for a month.  I had not ridden and was feeling a little nervous.  Rico, being the sensitive soul that he is, picked up on my nervousness and immediately thought something must be wrong and became all twitchy, which in turn, unnerved me and thus began a vicious cycle that resulted in me getting off his back and swapping mounts with my friend.  The instant I did that, I reinforced this nervousness of this horse in my heart.  So even though I had access to ride a sweet, albeit, sensitive boy, I convinced myself, I couldn't.  Rico wasn't being ridden much, or socialized really and we were trying to find him a new home.  It's to his credit that every time someone came to look at him and ride him, he behaved well.

Still, it bothered me.  I have NEVER been so afraid that I wouldn't at least try.  This feeling of fear for a creature that I was fond of, just didn't sit well with me.  On Monday, after thinking about who I am, who I want to be as a rider and the goals I would like to achieve, I came to a decision.  I was going to get back on that horse!  It's the number one rule in riding.  If you get thrown off, fall off, dragged off, you have to get right back on and ride.  By Tuesday, a plan had formulated, and by Wednesday, I was able to summon the needed courage to go face my "monster."  I won't say there wasn't an ounce of trepidation, there was.  But courage isn't the absence of fear, it's feeling the fear and pushing past it.  I tacked him up, did a couple of rounds in the round pen first and then took a very BIG step and headed for the trail that leads to the south side of the farm.  With each step, I felt confidence return and I could feel Rico relax.  The moment of arriving on the South side was made all the more meaningful to me by having witnesses to my feat.  My friend was over on the South side exercising her horses.  As was my trainer.  They both got to witness my exercise in courage and Rico's exercise in trust.  It would be wonderful to say that Rico and I went through our paces and all was well and we lived happily every after.  It would be, but it wouldn't be true.  You see, in the horse world, Rico is considered to be a little "green".  He is still learning how to listen and respond to cues and sometimes he still gets a little mixed up.  Add a "green" rider, who is still trying to find proper form and learn how to communicate properly with her mount, and you have a recipe for mayhem.  Yet, even the mayhem taught me something.  Firstly and most importantly, I STILL have LOTS to learn and while confidence is important, it's never a substitute for correct riding technique!  Secondly, Rico is a very willing horse.  Point him at a four foot fence and he will do his best to jump it, even if you didn't mean for him to do that.  He's a great little horse to ride, but he's not my horse ... and that's okay too.

On Wednesday I learnt that life is not a journey meant to be taken alone.  It is filled with people, who in turn, inspire you to reach for things you might have thought unreachable, and who you, in turn can encourage and inspire.  Life is full of "muses." Bright souls who cause us to reach deep down inside ourselves and find treasures we had no idea we possessed.  To the muses in my life, the unfailing, sometimes, unrelenting cheerleaders, two and four-legged alike, I thank you ALL!

HB Heinzer - More About the Author

Below is an excerpt from an interview with HB Heinzer, the author of Bent:

I’ve been reading romance novels for over 20 years now. My fascination
started with my mother’s collection of romance novels which lined half of
one wall in the master bedroom of my childhood home. After I graduated
from high school, life began to interfere with my reading and I didn’t
read nearly as often as I would like.
When my daughter was born, we decided that it would be more beneficial for
me to be a stay at home mom. To fill the income gap, I began freelance
writing for a variety of websites and print publications. From there, I
progressed to writing blogs as a way to hang on to the pieces of myself I
felt slipping away as I filled my roles as wife and mother. Blogging
slowly morphed from a creative outlet for my writing to a way to place
another egg in my work at home basket.
It wasn't until I attending a blogging conference in 2012 that I was
overcome with the need to write a book. I'd been thinking about it since I
was 15 but it was one of those “someday” dreams. There were two speakers
at that conference who convinced me I needed to do it. Just shy of a year
later, here I am!

About The Bar...
After everything changed and Micah and Julia were no longer meeting at the
diner, I needed to get them together. What better place than in a bar?
Seemed logical enough and you would think that took care of my issues with
getting them to see one another. Not so much...
Originally, it was going to be a song on the juke box that sent Julia into
hysterics. Don’t laugh, I’ve had it happen. Of course, Julia was not going
to approach the situation like I did because she knows that running to the
bathroom makes more sense than pounding three drinks in five minutes.
The thing is, as I started writing, Julia made it clear to me that she’s
not as weak and vulnerable as I was writing her. She’s actually kind of
badass and still held a lot of anger over their breakup. She made it clear
to me that she wasn’t thrilled to see Micah but she sure as hell wasn’t
weepy either.
In the end, I like the way it came together. I feel like it showed the
real emotions that someone in Julia’s position might be facing.


If you would like to stay up to date with all the latest news and projects that HB has, you can follow her on: facebook and twitter. Make sure you visit her blog too Musings from my alcove and follow her on Goodreads

For those of you who would still like grab her book:

Follow My UnEntitled Life Bent Review and Book Tour by visiting the other blogs on their day.

Feb 1st Review My UnEntitled Life 4th Tour Coupon Queen that saves the Green 5th review Safricaner 6th review Bipolar2Happiness 7th Tour Frugal Fanatics 8th Tour My Vegan Gluten Free Life 11th Tour Family Love & Other Stuff 12th Review Daydreams Book Tour 13th Review Coupons with Q 14th Review My Devotional Thoughts  

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Bent by HB Heinzer - A Review

I enjoy reading, so it's never any real hardship when a friend asks me to do a review.  Well, except if the book in question was badly written and even then, I soldier on to the end out of sheer curiosity to see if things improve or not.  Bent has no such problem.  It is well written, and the characters mesmerize you with their stories and draw you in,

The basic synopsis, without giving anything away, is as follows:

Julia moves back to Wisconsin after her life in Tennessee is totally upended.  No sooner has she arrived in Wisconsin, than she remembers that things are a little messy here too.  There are some unfinished matters that need taking care of, all them relating to one young man, Micah.  Will she be able to find the peace and healing she had looked for ....  How dramatic is that?!

It's a great little romance book.  Super easy to read, and as I have said before, perfect for curling up in front of the fire with on a cold, dreary afternoon.  Or, if you are fortunate enough to live in warmer climes, to lay on the beach with.  If you haven't yet, you can purchase Bent on Amazon.  The link gives you the Kindle edition but she does have it in old fashioned paperback too.

Virtual Book Tour For New Author HB Heinzer

A friend of a friend of mine, has just recently taking the flying leap of faith, and not only authored a WHOLE novel, but then published it!  Anyone who has ever tried writing or dreamed of writing, can appreciate just how amazing it is to complete a novel, from start to finish and then to have the courage to publish it and let it out into the world, well that's a whole different kettle of fish.

This little story is a great, light read.  Perfect for lounging on the beach, by the pool (if you had an in-door pool) or relaxing on the couch in front of a lovely fire.  If you enjoy romance stories, then I feel confident you'll enjoy this little book.

My thanks to Dina Demarest for providing the link(s) and info below for this promotion!

Bent Review and Book Tour

Here's some info about HB.

"I’ve been reading romance novels for over 20 years now. My fascination
started with my mother’s collection of romance novels which lined half of
one wall in the master bedroom of my childhood home. After I graduated
from high school, life began to interfere with my reading and I didn’t
read nearly as often as I would like.
When my daughter was born, we decided that it would be more beneficial for
me to be a stay at home mom. To fill the income gap, I began freelance
writing for a variety of websites and print publications. From there, I
progressed to writing blogs as a way to hang on to the pieces of myself I
felt slipping away as I filled my roles as wife and mother. Blogging
slowly morphed from a creative outlet for my writing to a way to place
another egg in my work at home basket.
It wasn't until I attending a blogging conference in 2012 that I was
overcome with the need to write a book. I'd been thinking about it since I
was 15 but it was one of those “someday” dreams. There were two speakers
at that conference who convinced me I needed to do it. Just shy of a year
later, here I am!"


You can follow HB Heinzer on facebook and twitter. Make sure you visit her blog too Musings from my alcove and follow her on Goodreads.

My Bent Review and Book Tour, Bent gets a solid 5 stars.

Some of my other friends has enjoyed seeing HB's progress and results. It
has made them more aware of their dreams and the direction that they want
to go in their life. If you have a dream you must try to fulfill that
dream. It should be your job. These books don't write themselves and you
can give your creativity an outlet. Hopefully your book will be as well
written as HB Heinzer's and you gain some new followers and sell some
books!

Follow my Bent Review and Book Tour by visiting the other blogs on
their day.

Feb 1st Review My UnEntitled
Life

4th Tour Coupon
Queen that saves the Green

5th review Safricaner

6th review Bipolar2Happiness

7th Tour Frugal Fanatics

8th Tour My Vegan Gluten Free Life

11th Tour Family Love
& Other Stuff

12th Review Daydreams Book
Tour

13th Review Coupons with Q

14th Review My Devotional
Thoughts

Feel free to follow
my Bent Review and Book Tour and enter below to win a $15 Amazon card and
one copy of Bent.

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Home - Musings from a "Scatterling"

"Home is where the heart is."  That's what the old adage says.  Lately, I don't know.  A heart has so many rooms and places.  It is able to divide itself into different pieces.  It certainly is capable of loving multiple things and people all at the same time without diminishing the intensity of the affection for each one.  In my case, that would mean my home is scattered all over the place.  A bit of me in England, Stuttgart, California, various places in South Africa and Tennessee.  This is what I was pondering while I travelled with my family to South Africa, to celebrate Christmas with loved ones there.

South Africa is the place of my birth.  She bore witness to my growing up.  Provided the soil into which tender roots first found their place.  She provided context for my life's journey and story;  the perspective that causes me to see the world through "African Eyes."  No matter how far we journeyed or roamed, whenever our aircraft would point it's nose onto "final approach" at Johannesburg, my soul would sigh and my heart would whisper, "home ...".  I would feel my context return.  No longer did I feel like a fish out of water - gasping for air and robbed of the color that made me, me.  For whatever time I had, I would relish not having to explain things like "Eish!", "Ag, lekker man!" and "How wena!".  I was back in a place were I was understood.  Where the idiosyncrasies of culture and people, made perfect sense to me.  It was with great anticipation that I looked forward to that sense of coming back to myself when I boarded the plane that would carry us "home."  Yet, when we started our decent and final approach into Johannesburg, there was more a sense of relief at being let off this noisy, infant-filled, bad-food-dispensing, flying tin can.  I put it down to the stress of traveling.  However, as our trip progressed, I realized more and more that something had changed.  While I was living my life, adjusting to my new surroundings and realities, the tendrils that had held my heart and soul so firmly in South Africa, had slowly been letting me go.  Unable to hold on to what I was, and still make sense of where I found myself now, I had let them gently slip away, till only a single tendril of Origin remained. For a while, I thought myself to be in a kind of "no-man's land".  Not possessing enough South African-ness to be truly South African,  and not yet American either.  My African perspective still frames my world, which can, sometimes, make integration into a new culture, challenging.  Maybe I'm just always going to be a mish-mash of different cultures.  Maybe that, in itself, creates something new.

I treasured every moment with every person on my trip.  For some reason, totally conscious that time is not promised to us and that "Tomorrow is another day," isn't necessarily true for everything.  Who knows when I'll be able to spend time with these special people again.  So I drank deep of their company.  Constantly aware of how I felt being with them.  Taking in every moment, conversation, setting.  Not wanting to engage in general conversation only, but attempting to really hear their hearts and feel the pulse of their souls.  Many a moment I would stop and marvel at how very blessed I am to have the friends and family I have.  These marvelous people that have all in some way or another, shaped me, challenged me, supported me, encouraged me.  All of them leaving little fingerprints on my heart and footprints on my soul.  Yet, when it came time to start thinking about coming back to Tennessee, I realized, for the first time, that it had become "home".  The realization didn't make the farewells any easier.  In fact, I found myself crying again thinking about my farewells to my parents, sisters and the their families.  Yet, in the comfort of my home, at the place that has become home, I wrap myself in warm memories and love and find solace for my aching heart, once more.

*The term "Scatterlings" was borrowed from a Johnny Clegg song, "Scatterlings of Africa".  I found the lyrics quite poignant and applicable to most emigrant/immigrant's experiences.

My Rock and Roots

Me and Patricia

My Second Family

My Inspiration :)

The Keeper of My Secrets :)

Lara and I - A friend indeed! :D

Wes, Anth and I - The one who reminds me who I am!

My cousins, sister and brother-in-law.  Without which there is no party!

On Finding Balance ...

The wonderful thing about finding something you are passionate about is the thrill you get from doing it or even just being around it. It's so easy to immerse yourself to the exclusion of all else, and even, everyone else.  Some folks think if you're truly serious about something, then that's the only way to be.  To some extent,  I do agree.  For example, if you enjoy motor racing, and you want to compete at national level, sometimes, even local level, you're going to have to put in the hours of practice to hone your skills to be able to compete.    

The last couple of months have been quite a journey in trying to find the balance between the thing that brings me so much joy and the responsibilities I have as  mom and wife and friend.  For a while, I happily let myself get lost in my passion to the exclusion of everything else.  As anyone can tell you, when your life becomes unbalanced, the road starts getting really bumpy (to use our car analogy).  The children start remarking on your frequent (and  prolonged) absences, your home starts being invaded by "Thing 1" and "Thing 2", and everyone knows what a house looks like when they've been to visit!  Family pets start reacting to you as if you're a complete stranger and friends begin to wonder if you were abducted by techno friendly aliens who allow you to post Facebook statuses as you feel need to.  Significant Others become quietly resentful at getting whatever time you have left, instead of the best you have.  You find yourself making all manner of compromises in order to make time for your passion.   For some, all this might seem admirable and an indicator of dedication, and maybe it could be.  To me, it slowly became a point of anxiety.

Life has a way of talking to you, though, if you'll listen.  It starts with a quiet whisper, a little word of caution from a friend, a off hand remark from a stranger, a song on the radio.  Little messages letting you know that you need to make a decision.  Add in a crazy month of preparation, entertaining,  birthdays, and unplanned dental emergencies, and you suddenly find yourself in a position where you are forced to prioritize.  And prioritize not in the way you'd like.   Everything that had been bumped to the bottom of my "To-Do List" suddenly HAD to be dealt with - NOW.   At first I panicked.  Afraid that I would lose the thing I held so dear.  In the situation I was in, there was nothing I could do.  Don't you just love when Life insists on teaching you something.

The crazy whirlwind that has been my life the last four weeks or so, is finally calming down to a coastal gust, as it were, and while I would love to report that nothing has really changed, that wouldn't be true.  I learnt that even in pursuing your passion, it is important that you never forget the people who were there for you before you found that spark.  When Life says, "Not now,"  it's not saying "Never."  I have managed to find some balance in all this.  A schedule that works for me.  Accommodates the whole person I am now and not merely fragments of me.  And yes, an outlet for my passion as well.  Maybe not in the way I envisaged or planned, but maybe what I had envisaged wasn't what I needed right now.

Getting "Hair" Done ...

I have never had much luck with finding two things which really work for me.  A gynecologist and a good hairdresser.  As any lady will tell you, or maybe not, it's important to have folks who know what they are doing in these two fields.  A bad visit with either one of these professionals can really sour a girl's day.  Since moving to Tennessee, I have not had much luck in with finding professionals in either one of these fields that survived more than one or two visits from me.  That is until today.  Today, I am cautiously optimistic, I may have found a hair stylist!  For years I have suffered through folks who are good at their jobs, but not very good at listening to their clients.  Or sometimes they are so very good at their jobs that they don't feel it necessary to give the client anything of what they ask for.  After all, they know better!  For years now, I have sat in the stylist's chair, told them what I wanted and had to walk out making peace with whatever style they deemed would look best on me.  A few months ago, I wanted a pixie cut, but the stylists shook her head and replied, "I don't see you with something that edgy.  You would look better with soft layers."  The problem was, I had had soft layers for years!  I wanted something different!  What the poor woman didn't know, and couldn't know, was that the twenty stylists before her had said the exact same thing.  Well, with the exception of one who nodded when I explained to her what I wanted done and then simply did what she wanted to do anyway.  Soft layers.  Today, was different.  I walked into the salon armed with a picture of what I wanted done.  To make sure that it would look good on me, I had gone through the trouble of downloading an app that allows you to see what a style or hair color would look like on you before you attempt to wear it.  I confidently pulled out my phone and showed her what I wanted done.  My arguments were neatly lined up and ready to go, my resolve was ... well ... resolute!  She looked at my picture and exclaimed with glee, "Oh yay!  This is going to be so much fun!"  That was NOT the reaction I expected.  Out came the foils and a metric tonne were applied to my head.  Next, it was time for me to bake ... under the dryers I went.  Just when I feared becoming all crispy, I was whisked out and whirled into the comfy chair at the basin where some rather foul smell stuff was smeared on my hair.  Rinse, condition, massage, rinse and pat dry.  Marched to the chair where my stylist seemed to bouncing from one foot to the other in anticipation.  A gleeful giggle and then she got busy.  First the scissors then the razor.  An hour later, I was whirled around again and I almost cried!  Happy tears.  Finally I had exactly what I wanted and it looked GREAT!

The Joys of Traveling on a Green Passport

South Africans are a proud lot.  We love our country.  Yes, it's a mess and horribly dysfunctional, but it's our mess and dysfunction.  We can talk bad about it all day long, and we do, but don't let anybody else say anything mean about the place.  Them is fighting words!  We love our flag.  We may not pledge allegiance to it, but we like that we have all the colors of the rainbow in ours.  Okay, I exaggerate, we don't have ALL the colors of the rainbow, but we do have most of the colors of every other flag known to mankind all collated in our little flag.  Our national colors, when competing internationally is green and gold, not to be confused with Australia's gold and green.  And man!!  Are we ever proud of those colors!  Springboks, Proteas, BafanaBafana, it doesn't matter what name you call us, we are proud.  Even when we don't do too well.  We are still proud.  The only time the Green and Gold becomes a real pain in the ... bottom, is when it relates to our passports.  Yes, our passports are dark green with gold emblazed coat of arms.  It actually looks super stylish, however, no one else seems to think so.  Or at least, when traveling, you don't get credit for having a stylish looking passport.  When folks from other countries see our beautiful green and gold passport they immediately tell us to get visas.  It doesn't matter where you might want to travel as a South African, you WILL need a visa.  It started in the Apartheid years as a form of sanctions.  Post apartheid, it hasn't be lifted.  It would appear that we are still not trustworthy.  What I find ironic is that our passports have this little blurb in the front which basically says that the bearer of the passport is granted free travel anywhere and that our passports should be accepted as proof that we are free to travel.  I think an amended blurb needs to be written which says, "Dear Citizen, Yes you have a passport which should enable you to travel, but unless you are traveling on the continent of Africa (and even then), expect to have to get Visas for every place you wish to visit."  I know most Americans and British folk have no idea what the big deal is, because they have passports (albeit slightly less stylish) which truly DO grant them entry into any country they wish to visit.  The exceptions to that rule, are so few, and usually include places that most tourists would rarely want to visit anyway, that they hardly bare mentioning.  However, on a South African passport, I have to buy a visa every time I wish to travel to ANY where.  Yes, I did say buy.  You fill out a long application form and then you have to send in a "processing fee."  These can run the gamut of $80 to a whopping $141 for my recent UK tourist visa application.  Yes, that's $141 for a visa for a visit that is only going to last 7 hours.  Did I mention that South African passports are also subject to the latest fad in travel documentation:  The Transit Visa.  Yes, now even if you are merely traveling through a place, you need a visa.  No, you will not be leaving the airport, merely landing at a place that would normally want you to have a visa if you were going to visit.  However, you won't be visiting because you will be going from one gate to the next to continue on your journey, but you still have to fork out the bucks for a transit visa for the privilege (or inconvenience) of doing this.

I also find it rather interesting that most countries that are subjected to Visa requirements are poor.  Some are also the "black sheep" in the international community.  Although,  I had hoped that South Africa would have made it off the international black list by now, but apparently not.  So no matter how proud I may be of the Green and Gold, when it comes to my passport, it's a drag.  An expensive drag.  And an insulting drag:  I mean, I need a visa to visit Mexico, for Pete's sake!  Really?!

Countries can have whatever excuse they want for requiring visas:  security being the biggest argument.  Another one being trying to deter folks from illegally immigrating.  You know, overstay your visa.  Problem is, desperate folks still do that.  I know that is one of the reasons why Britain insists on South Africans having visas. Why not have a rigorous passport application processes that guarantees that people that are issued with passports are "good" citizens and trustworthy and therefore can be trusted to travel abroad to any country they want without requiring the extra expense and stress of visas.  What I find ridiculous about the whole process at the moment is that at some point I will be applying for American Citizenship.  At that point I get issued with a Navy blue passport, and "poof" suddenly I go from being untrustworthy and suspicious to being completely trustworthy.  I haven't changed.  I am the same person.  Just the travel document I use is different.  That's how ridiculous the whole thing is!  There has got to be a better way to do these things that isn't financially crippling, ridiculously invasive (I had to send in copies of pay stubs for my UK visitor's visa) and time consuming (processing times can be ridiculous depending on where you are applying from and where you want to go).  I understand countries want to make a little bit of money off of tourists, but then be honest about it and charge a entry tax and levy it on EVERYONE.  That seems more fair.  

A Review: The Magic of Belle Isle

I had seen a trailer for this movie a while back and had thought it looked "kinda interesting". It seemed to have all the elements needed to be a sweet, safe, family movie. Three adorable sisters, ranging in age from teen to Kindergartener; a creative and wise mom, trying to pick up the pieces of her life, post divorce; a sweet young man, who is mentally delayed and likes to bunny hop everywhere and his eccentric mother, who also is an accountant. Throw in an alcoholic author with writer's block and a vocabulary that made me envious, and you have the makings of a story that runs the gamut of coming of age, to comeback story, to love story, to "THEY CAN NEVER TAKE AWAY OUR FRRREEDOM!" motivational story.

I learnt the importance of seeing what's NOT there as a writer. To be fearless when telling a story. Incorporate from your experience, but make it something different. It reminded me how hard it was to understand my mother as a teen. How hard I was on her and what a powerful impact the realization that she too was a girl once, had on me. Just how we never truly know, or understand, the effect we have on others lives when we simply live ours. Regardless of how sad and low or empty we may see ourselves.

So many times we focus on what we don't have, didn't achieve, couldn't or can't do and attach our worth and "usefulness" to that. We measure the space we consume here in this life based on that. Oprah deserves so much because look at how large her life is. I'm not as important, so I'll just stick to my sofa. She can touch lives and change situations because she's Oprah. I 'm just poor little me. No money, no influence, no life. We forget that the Oprah's of the world didn't start big and powerful. They became that way over time. No, I don't believe we are all destined for fame and fortune, but I do believe that we ALL have something to offer in life. Something that makes us different and can help others in meaningful ways. Sometimes a smile affects more powerful change in a person's heart than a million dollars ever could. Sometimes the right word spoken at the right time can launch people into brand new adventures and life trajectories. Those things are just as important and meaningful. Being brave enough to be who you are, courageous enough to touch other lives just through our daily "living life" routines, brings color to people's lives as well as meaning to our own. And that is the message I heard from "The Magic of Belle Isle".

Well worth the time ...

When Mommy Strikes ...

So I found an interesting article today that I wanted to share with everyone.  It's interesting because I have similarly tried this experiment, to much the same result.  The progeny (and sometimes, the spouse) are all good for a while, and then slowly but surely everyone reverts back to their "forgetful" ways.    I was lucky enough to have a cleaning service for a few months, which helped to give me a day off during the week.  But not everyone can afford that, even for a little while.  Which means, that for us moms to have the respect we deserve from our families, we have to regularly insist on it.  No nagging necessary.  Just gentle reminders followed by natural consequences (no breakfast cereal bowls available for breakfast if no-one takes their dishes to the kitchen).  I like my home to be clean and organized, but part of being a parent is that I teach my children how to be responsible for themselves as well.  Cleaning up after yourself, whether it be taking a dish to the kitchen, cleaning up the bathroom after you used it, bringing down towels to be washed so that you have towels to dry yourself with again, are all part of that learning process.  It also teaches you to have respect for those you share space with.  Whether we are work outside the home moms, or work in the home moms, we all deserve to have at least ONE day where we don't have to be responsible for cleaning up after someone else.  It's okay to have a day off.  To relax and let others take care of us.  It doesn't mean we are failures or weak or wimps.  It means that we, like everyone else on this planet, function best when we have had time to rest.  Enjoy the article .... and make some time for yourself!

Working for the Weekend

Weekends, for most of us, are equated with "down" time. Let your hair down, calm down, get down (or up) or chill time. It means we try do the things we weren't able to (or couldn't be bothered to) do during the week, preferably with people we don't always get to see that much of, or simply enjoy having around a lot. In our home, weekends have become sacred. It's the one time when we can truly reconnect as a family. Like so many families in the US at the moment, our family is split up during the week. Livings have to be made, and sadly, it cannot always happen where you live. So, weekends have become the most looked forward to time in our home. Not only that, but to ensure that everyone gets the time they need with "Dad", weekends are scheduled to some degree. So when the grown ups can some unscheduled time alone, we enjoy it for the gift it is. This past weekend it took the form of "work". We are preparing for a big family trip and there is "giftage" that needs to be acquired to ensure I have a good time (because let's face it, giving someone else a gift is ALL about me!). A pilgrimage to Opry Mills was made, and every shop perused (but only few chosen for gifting purposes). Sunday, was spent staining the beautiful coffee table my hubby made me AND doing a photo shoot for some friends of ours. We may have been busy, but we were busy together. Working together. Needless to say, everything felt less like work or responsibility or "to do listy" and more like fun! We capped of our impromptu weekend hang-out by watching our favorite Sunday night shows together (can I hear a woot woot for my favorite serial killer). All in all, a PERFECT weekend, spent with the one person I love to hang out with the most. Next weekend, we return to the tight scheduling as usual: birthdays, projects, friends. How lucky am I to have such a full life!

Imagine - A Dreamer's Prayer

In 1971, a "strange" young man wrote and released a song, simply titled Imagine.  As far as melodies go, not very complicated, and the arrangement, a simple piano led accompaniment.  Nothing fancy.  Yet it is this simple little 3:14 song that has been weighing on my heart recently.  Especially in light of all the unrest in mostly Muslim countries, the horrific attack on American embassy staff  and the nasty rhetoric that has since followed.  All which came about as a result of some silly YouTube video which offended the Muslim community.

The very first time I heard Imagine, I was a young adult.  I know that many of you would be just stupefied that a person could go through life without having heard Imagine, but sadly, it's true.  On first hearing the song, I have to admit, I was NOT impressed.  I found it to be really offensive.  How do you mean, "Imagine there's no Heaven and Hell?  And no religion?".  That dude must've been smoking some really good stuff!  Turns out he was.  However, that shouldn't negate the message of his song.  I've grown up a bit since then.  I've lived a bit.  Been out in the world.  Done a little traveling.  Now I get what this "crazy hippy" was trying to say.  Not that I claim to understand all things, quite the contrary.  However I think I better understand what he was trying to say.  He was dreaming of a world when we wouldn't let our differences define us or prevent us from seeing each other as worthy of respect.  In his opinion, living for Heaven or in fear of Hell, prevented people from appreciating where they are now, the relationships they have now.  Religion seems to pull us apart instead of giving us compassion for each other.  Most of our faiths espouse tolerance, compassion, generosity, hospitality, mercy, love, peace.  One would think that we would see the benefit of that in our societies, instead we seem to cling solely to that which would cause hurt and pain.  We use our faiths to judge, condemn, oppress, destroy.  It would be wonderful if we just were able to just BE people.  Not have countries and nationalities, just be people.  All willing to share, no-one taking more than they need.  Everyone living in the understanding that when I care about the well-being and welfare of my neighbor, I am also caring for myself.  But our innate natures seem to be somewhat greedy and restless in its discontent.  Ironically, the very reason I think we could benefit from the positive teachings in our faiths.

It is so easy to look at images of the angry demonstrating crowds and think, "Exactly what we've come to expect from Muslims.  Always getting upset and excited about something trivial."  Yet, Christians are just as guilty.  Muslims may bomb or kill people they consider offensive to their faith, but Christians have been known to blow up abortion clinics or assassinate doctors who work at those clinics.  Then there's the infamous witch hunts, pogroms and crusades, all done in the name of God and under the flag of Faith and with the Church's blessing in some cases.  What was that?  Oh, not ALL Christians are extremists?  Well, couldn't it be possible that not ALL Muslims are extremists either?  Similarly, not every Middle Eastern man wants to rain death and destruction on the West.

Extremes in ANYTHING in life can be dangerous and have disastrous effects.

Seeing news footage of the burnt down embassy in Libya, the folks that lost their lives, the angry protestors in the streets, just made my heart feel so heavy.  Shouldn't we of faith, regardless of which faith it is, be able to rise above these things?  Can we not find a way to share this wonderful planet with each other without perpetually warring with each other?

Somebody posted a quote by Dr. Martin Luther King on Facebook the other day, which so aptly described this dilemma for me:

"When we look at modern man, we have to face the fact that modern man suffers from a kind of poverty of the spirit, which stands in glaring contrast with scientific and technological abundance.  We've learnt to fly the air as birds;  We've learnt to swim the seas as fish, yet we haven't learned to walk the earth as brothers and sisters."


How very sad.

Yet, like Dr King and Mr Lennon, I do have a dream.  Maybe, ONE day we will finally be able to understand that different doesn't mean superior or inferior, it simply means different.   And different doesn't equate to bad.  We all have something to teach each other and something to learn from each other.  We all are necessary to make this rich tapestry that is Mankind.  Each contribute flavors and colors which adds to the richness and beauty of life.

To quote another singer/songwriter, "I'm starting with the man in the mirror, I asking him to change his ways ..."  If we all chose to "give peace a chance" - not merely lip service, but actual actions (and sometimes, inactions) that would bring about real change, could you imagine the world we would have?

SuBtle Plugs

I really don't like pushy sales people. I really don't like being bullied and sometimes, in order to make a sale, folks will try to run roughshod over you. My first encounter with "high pressure" sales pitches was when I was eighteen. I had just started working, was living on my own, and was enjoying being "footloose and fancy free". My experience with door to door salesmen had been very limited up to this point. I'll admit, I was completely taken in by his dazzling smile, flattering ways and "hocus pocus". Before I knew it, I had signed an automatic bank order for a 12 place setting dinner service. It was beautiful. There were serving dishes, serving platters, and the all important gravy boat. The plates were near indestructible and the glasses elegant. The problem with "Hocus Pocus", as with any "spell", it's hold lasts only as long as the "caster" is there. Sure enough, after the gentleman left, my faculties slowly returned to me. What on earth am I going to do with a dinner service that would take me two years to pay off? Naturally, I did what any self-respecting, strong, independent, single woman would do. I called my mom. She very graciously agreed to phone the company and cancel my order. The lesson I learnt from that experience, beware charming men with dazzling smiles, and truly NEVER open your door to strangers. Since then, I've followed my mother's words of wisdom: Just say no. Some folks are really determined. Or maybe just hard of hearing. Those situations require incessant use of the word "no!". As in, "nonononononoNOOOOOOOO!"

Once I moved to the US, I had to really step up my game. Here, they have people who phone you all the time trying to get you to buy stuff or change stuff or upgrade. Thank God for the shelter of the "Do Not Call List". Being rude to folks isn't something that comes naturally to me, and most of the time I am able to convince folks to leave me be, before having to resort to hanging up on them mid-pitch.

Now companies have changed their strategy yet again. Now they're using our TV's. Yes, I'm aware that commercials have been with us since the beginning of visual medium, but these aren't your "typical" advertisements. These are cleverly placed products on set of our favorite shows. Car companies really seem to be stepping it up, with shows like the Closer, Burn Notice, Suits to mention a few, cutting away from relevant dialogue to point out Ford's latest feature or Hyundai's latest gizmo. Regardless of having a DVR that I use to skip through the majority of ad pitches, here, smack bang in the middle of my favorite serial drama, I have a not so suBtle advertisement. That's not even talking about the other little things like soups, clothes, cereals, TV's, appliances and so on and so forth. I understand that marketers sole job is to make me want their product. But, seriously? Is there no respite from their relentless bombardment? One would think with the amount of advertisements they cram in between scenes, they wouldn't have to find additional ways to ply their wares.

The Longest Day

Some days feel like they'll never end. Some days seem to fly by at light speed, leaving you feeling breathless in the effort of wrangling it to a more languid pace. Some days seem to last a month or a year. Or five years. Sunday, was a long day for me. The sun was out. The sky a beautiful blue. Autumn temperatures made being outside simply wonderful. A gentle breeze was playfully mussing the leaves in our trees. The day was slow, as befits Sunday. It would never do to have a rushed "Day of Rest". In an instant, a blink of an eye, all peaceful rest is upended. All wonderful tranquility forgotten and in it's place panic, fear, sadness. In the midst of this awful drama relentlessly unfolding before me, I find myself thinking, "It's ok. Tomorrow will be a new day. A fresh start." Normally, that would be true. But this sadness, this unhappiness, this need to make things right, will not be done with tomorrow. It's repercussions will linger and haunt me for a while still. Like bad medicine, the after taste will repeatedly remind me, "this happened". My soul bows over under the burden of a hurt heart.

Yet, I determinedly face this Long Day. This day whose length will be measured in days and weeks, not simply hours. I know even the Longest Day eventually has to say its farewell and give way to something new. I take a deep breath, dry my tears, square my shoulders and lift my chin.

The sun slowly begins its majestic descent. It's fading light giving Angels colors of fantastical hue to paint the horizon with. On the light, evening breeze, a song of ... Hope. A new day is on its way ...

The Fighting Marlises

Ever had one of those days.  You know, the ones where your comforter/duvet wraps itself tightly around you, pulling you into it's warm embrace.  Your bedroom cloaks you in comfort as its dim light whispers lullabies, tempting you to hit "snooze", accept your comforter/duvet's inviting embrace and languidly slip back into dreamland for part two of that really great dream you were having.  I don't know about you, but all this begins a raging argument within myself.  The Responsible Side whispers, "It's time to start your day."  The Immature/Irresponsible Side counters with, "Just a few minutes more and then you can get up."  Followed by, "Come on.  You know you're not going to make it out the house on time if you lay here for much longer.  There's lots that has to be done today."  Eventually, the "arguing" between the two sides of myself becomes so loud, the only way to have any peace is to just get up!  Well, I had one of those mornings today.  What made today a little more unusual, was the continuation of the internal arguing even after getting up.  The topic was "To gym or not to gym."  There were some really great arguments made against visiting my place of blood, sweat and perseverance.  Some really tempting ones, in fact.  Yet, I kept going.  One foot in front of the other,  until, I found myself standing in front of the door to Curves.  One would think that at this point, the two sides would have conceded the arguments and let me be.  Oh no!  It continued, like two snippy chihuahuas, continually harassing each other.  "Do just one circuit."  "You're here now, might as well do the full two."  "You're not feeling 100%.  You don't want to end up hurting yourself"  "Think of your riding goals.  You want to strengthen your legs, don't you?  Do at least two circuits."  While they continued to snip and snap at each other, I did two circuits, with extra reps on the squat and quad machines.  I didn't let Immature/Irresponsible Side get me down when I looked up my work out stats and saw I was a little below where I wanted to be.  I didn't get down on myself because I had managed to complete my workout, to the best of my ability, with all that racket going on in my head!!  Surely, that was the hardest part of the day.  Surely now the noise in my head would die down and let me get on with the rest of my day.  Alas!  The new subject of debate:  going to the barn.  I don't really need to go to the barn.  I could survive without going, and yet .... I know that I am better once I've been there.  I doled out some apples to my four legged friends, chatted to assistant trainer as she did her chores, and by the time I left, there was peace.  No more wrestling with myself.  At least for a while.  It started all over again on entering my home.  "Get things picked up. Tidy up.  You'll feel better"  "Nah.  Leave it for a day."  "You left it for a day yesterday" "The kids are only going to mess everything up.  Why bother?"  And so on and so forth.  Again, during this tug of war, I managed to wipe down the kitchen counters, load the dishwasher, get a load of laundry done and made some time to quickly write this blog (even though, according to one Side, "no-one reads it anyway!"). 

Yes, today has been one of those days.  Everything has been a fight and a struggle.  Yet, I feel like I have accomplished so much more precisely because of it.  I didn't give in.  I kept moving forward.  One little step at a time.  One little action followed another.  The result has been, the things that are important to me, have gotten done.  Some of the things that aren't so important but necessary have gotten done too.  That's reason to celebrate!

Whatever day you're having, whether it be highly motivated or a continual struggle to get things done, at the end of the day, may you feel content.  May there be pride in what you have accomplished.  May you go to sleep tonight, with a smile on your face and a light, joyful spirit.  Until tomorrow morning ...