Things we’ll never do again and some that we can’t seem to stop doing…

   

      I must have some DNA in me that makes me tell on myself. Sometimes I think that the books that I write do that also. They say that people who write put at least a little of who they are in each book. Hope I never write about anything odd, people will look at me funny – or funnier than they already do.

     This blog is about things I don’t do anymore that I did do, mostly as a child. (The older one gets the more one reflects on old memories.)

I was watching PBS and a man was blowing large glass marbles. That’s what started me thinking. The more I thought about some of the things I tried to do growing up the more I thought most people who know me now wouldn’t believe me.

     I played marbles. Yes, I sure did. I never had anything noteworthy in my marble bag, except for a large ball bearing. Of course, any marble player worth their salt knows that you don’t ever use that playing in a game that “counts”. A game that counts means that everything you win, you keep.

     

     Needless to say, my marble playing days were short lived. I lost most of mine to the neighbor kid who knew how to get right down to the level of the circle drawn in the dirt, squint one eye and fire his lucky aggie. Mine rolled like cowards out of the circle, I swear sometimes before they were even hit!

     Next, I dug tunnels in the yard. I made a whole freeway of interwoven roads and deep tunnels the width of my hands. Not having any little cars, I used bottle caps.  My birthday was coming so I put in a request for some little cars. My birthday came and what I got I would have needed a backhoe to dig the tunnel with. It was the largest red plastic corvette. It was about ten inches long and four inches wide. I cried myself to sleep that night. I was so disappointed. The next day I filled in the tunnels and that was the end of my road working days.

     

     Then an old harmonica was given to me and the light came back into my eyes. I had a goal! I was going to become the world’s best harmonica player that there ever was. I made the dogs next-door bark. I never got the hang of how to keep from spitting all over my own face. Thus, the harmonica world had to go on without me. Yes, I know that this isn't a harmonica.. so maybe that's why I was never good at it!!!

     

     Then one day something came to the house in a small cardboard box. It was quite sturdy, at the start. Now most people might have just seen a cardboard box, but I saw my next big talent, playing the accordion.

I drew keys down one side and black and white buttons on the other side. I told some of my friends that I couldn’t play in the afternoon because I had to practice my harmonica at the time and then the accordion. My parents just won’t let me play until I do. (Sigh)

     I pushed and pulled on that box until even the sides of it believed that they were an accordion! Oh, what sweet music I made with that box. I had just gotten the sides broken in when much to my horror one day when I went to retrieve it from behind the couch in the living room – It was gone!

     

     My mother not realizing that she had a budding accordion performer on her hands had thrown it out while I was at school.  I cried myself to sleep that night too.

     There were other attempts at greatness, too many to mention but this last one. I borrowed my girlfriend’s tap shoes for the night. We had terrazzo floors in our house in Florida  (smooth concrete with colored specks in it) so I knew the taps would ring out my talent. They were two sizes too small so that career only lasted less than thirty minutes. I hung up the taps.

     Then I began to fill pages of notebook paper with what I just knew would become great novels one day. I remember writing a short story of this beautiful young girl who went to summer camp and of course she was the one that all the boys wanted to dance with and help her get on her horse for the night ride. As I recall, and its with complete embarrassment now, as the group rode along under a full moon she was the one who sang a song that was popular back then.

     I say embarrassing because at the time we had a paper due in literature class, writing a story about anything we wanted. So having this great love story already in hand, I submitted it as my paper. It wasn’t until after I handed it in and was on the way home that day that I realized that the teacher would be reading this romance!

     I was humiliated for weeks waiting for the notebooks to come back with our grades on them. Only the A+ and her comments about it being very believable saved me from running away from home.

     This one stuck. I still have files filled with books at various and sundry stages. Some I have pulled out and read and can’t even remember writing them or where the story was going. I have seven self-published and several that will be one day soon. But, the sad thing about remembering all the things that I thought I would end up doing have all never come to fruition.

     I seem to lack the DNA to know how to market what I write or the drive to do that part. So there is one common thing that I still do that links all that I’ve tried to accomplish in my life over the years, - cry myself to sleep some nights.

Maybe one day…. (Sigh)

Is there such a thing as a perfect life?

The other day I had, ‘one of those days’. You know the kind; you think you’re headed to do something only to find out that nothing is going as planned. It made me wonder if any one of us comes into this world and never has – one of those days.

I've had months and even years made up of those days. Imagine with me for a minute about a ‘what if’.

What if you’re deposited into the ideal family? Mother, father, siblings all perfectly suited to one another, just waiting on your arrival. Parenting skills are in place. Wisdom to channel all your talents and skills in the right direction with every needed tool, instrument, or instructional mentor available.

You grow from one age to the next completely on track. Your internal directional finder is working properly. All exterior helps are in tune to whom and what you were sent into this world to be.

You bloom into that dancer, artist, teacher, doctor, engineer, poet, sportsman/woman or whatever the DNA within you was programmed to become.

You've been encouraged in all the right directions; given every opportunity to excel. You, being successful in your endeavors was never even questioned. From conception to completion, those around you saw and guided your steps.

You find the perfect job once you've perfected your skills, you meet the person of your dreams, and you become everything as a mate, parent, and person you were supposed to be.

Poof! That was the bubble breaking.What’s more like the truth is that even when we might have been placed into the best family environment, things are never perfect. Somewhere along the line, some one or some thing is going to upset that perfect apple-cart.

          Example tells us that there isn't a perfect life. As our horizons expand as we grow, we see the lives of other people around us with far more opportunities or privilege than we have and guess what – they are not happy. You’d think with all the wealth, power, and opportunities that some people have in the world that they’d be shouting from the rooftops how happy they are.

          Instead, they use what they have been given for selfish gain. Self-indulgence and act like all-round jerks. The rest of us observers question their conduct wondering how it is that they got the ‘goods’ and not the brains to use them.

          There are a few who seem to get further along in their life making right choices, becoming humanitarians, or benevolent givers all the while avoiding pitfalls in their progress. I appreciate those  people who were given more and use it wisely.

          The ones who squander and abuse something I would have given my right arm to have had, I have little or no patience with.

          How the dividing of the pie happens is a mystery. I don’t think any one knows how it really works. There will always be no rhyme or reason behind why one person’s life is full of ‘those days’ and another’s seems void of upsets.

          There’s a commercial, (well actually there are a LOT of commercials on TV) that drive me nuts.

          I don’t mind them on days that I’m mellow, not having one of my days. However, when I’ve been through one where nothing went right, this kind of commercial makes me want to scream at my TV.

          It’s a car commercial. But the content of it has really nothing to do with selling cars. (Normal for most commercials these days) The little girl bounds out of her room shouting, “I’m ready!” she spins around dressed as a fairy with wings, crown and wand. The father looks at her and then has to show her a simple dress that she needs to change into because the day doesn't call for a fairy outfit.

          On the way to school, the girl sighs in the backseat as though her life has ended; her world has come crumbling down around her.

(Blaaah!)

         

The father pulls up to the stop sign and the ad finally makes since, it’s about saving gas. What in the heck does this have to do with the girl and her fairy wings?

          Here is where it gets totally unrealistic. God forbid that she suck it up and go on to school. Oh, no, the father takes this unrealistic action and the next thing you see is this girl skipping into school, back in her fairy costume. As she skips in her perfect little world, she passes a sign that reads. “School pictures today. ”

          Give me a break! Not only does it make little to no sense about a gas saving car there is NO way that this one kid’s school yearbook picture is going to be in a fairy costume.

          I’m just too tuned into reality. That’s why I love to write. I can’t handle irrational conduct that the world produces and often time sends my way. So, in my worlds (my books) I’m in control of what is right and what is wrong and never the two shall meet. My story, this little ridiculous scenario shows the father stooping down in front of her, lovingly promises that he will take pictures of her in her fairy wings, but today she has to wear a nice dress like all the rest of the children.

          That’s a logical picture. The girl skipping in her wings makes me wonder where Alice and the Cheshire cat are. I’ll have what they're drinking!

          I guess the moral to this blog – story is this; maybe the next time I head into MY day, I’ll wear my ruby slippers, wings, crown, and carry my wand. 
          That should shakeup someone's world!

Here is my latest creative moment

                                               
I found this craft and was impressed with how you do it. You first draw your subject, trace it with glue, add yarn on the lines to form an impression that will be raised once you cover it with aluminum foil. Its easier than it sounds. I know because I put off (imagine that) trying this, thinking it was too hard. The thing I learned was that the whole time I just knew it was going to be hard to get the aluminum in all the crevices of the yarn, I was wrong. Once I laid the aluminum foil over picture all I did was run my hand over it and Presto! The image of the elephant rose to the surface. Then I added color. This taught me yet another lesson.  



                                               

I am back !

     I went to look at my blog to see if it had grown wings and flown away and it was still sitting there waiting on me. Funny how that happens. It’s sort of like dishes, laundry, or stacks of bills. They just sit there patiently waiting for you to come do something about them.

     I listened to my blog whining about my absence, complaining that I’d forgotten it and my overall neglect, missing updates and otherwise dragging of my feet. (Blogs can be so annoying at times, not to mention bossy!)

     To quote my son, “Mom, what else do you have to do?” Which he has said to me at times when I've commented on having to do something I've been putting off. I could lie and say, “Dishes, laundry, and attending to my bills,” but then, they would scream, “Liar, liar, pants on fire”.

     So I decided that I would mend my ways and come back to blogging.  The first thing I thought I owed my blog was a makeover 

(Who doesn't love a makeover?) 

Note: You can fiddle with color schemes until your eyes start seeing spots. That was just FYI.

    I think I found one that looks nice and has a hidden subject. I’ll give you a hint. There is an elephant in the room. I have been attracted to elephants this past year and a half. Well, not physically. I’m not certain why they caught my attention, but they have. I've put one on my Facebook cover and have collected several pictures. I just recently completed a picture (which I will post at the end of this posting).

    But if you look closely at the background, you will see the elephant in my blog-room. I also recently found a live Wildlife Cam in Africa where you can watch these magnificent beasts come to drink. Of course, the time difference between Ashville, Oho, and Africa is reversed so my sleep pattern has gone haywire again. It only took me a few nights of sitting in my chair listening to crickets chirping for an hour or so to find another way to do this.

    Because there is sound with the viewing, as the camera pans one part of the watering hole you might hear bushes moving and water splashing. I find myself telling the camera to move quickly in the direction of the noise. Sadly, by the time the camera listens to me, whatever was there is gone. Nothing listens to me.

    So, I came up with a solution whereby I can enjoy sitting in the comfort of my living room and being amazed a watching elephants and other wild animals a continent away and not lose sleep. I watch the archives of the previous night’s activities while drinking my morning coffee. I guess you’d then call it Post live? Previously live? Pretend live?  I’m sure the elephants would object to any of those descriptions letting me know that they are indeed very much ALIVE!

    My son had a comment (what else is new) when I told him about the site and being so amazing that I could be watching elephants thousands of miles away unbeknownst to them. He said, “Imagine what the elephants would say if they were able to watch you back.” Haha.

    You’d read headlines the next day, 

AFRICAN ELEPHANTS DIE FROM OVEREXPOSURE TO LAUGHING AT LOCAL WATERING HOLE!

Okay, I’m moving on.

    I've written another book since my last blogging. I’m currently in Ashville, Oh, and I've aged. I have an artificial knee and an artificial shoulder now. I seem to be replacing body parts like batteries. They only last for so long and then one day – poof, you need new ones.

    I've come to find out that I have cataracts, (I will NOT be messing with those!) I can see fine, they are just there.

   Well, I guess that is about all the excitement about me since my last post that you can handle. Now I’ll attempt to post the elephant picture I did recently.  Which me luck. 

New book is now available on Anazon!

Fate? Destiny? A predetermined life? Whatever you believe, somehow we get from one event in our lives to another. Why do we often give credit to unfortunate situations as being the best thing that could ever have happened to us? Do we want to somehow believe that even those times are within our control to edit the outcome?

Sandra Bloom never dreamed that coming face to face with fate, would be during a trip to the store for pretzels and beer for a husband who she might have shared a home with, but not really a life and definitely not her heart.

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