Location Rotation

Photo by xandert.

The first half of our marriage seemed broken into distinct segments, because every five years we made a major move.

After we'd been in our current city for about four years, we developed an itch to unpitch our tent and move on.

Out went the resumes. Up went our expectations for a new adventure. In came an offer for a new job. 

Right here. 

In the same city.

So we adjusted our attitudes. Threw out those tingly hopes of getting out of Dodge. Settled in to a new routine. And enjoyed it.

But another five years flew by, and that itch returned, bringing with it another new job for hubby. 

Right here in the same city.

It's been a little over three years since that last urge for newness. Already, we feel the itch engines coughing to life. They'll sputter to a full roar soon.

This time, though, as I consider What Might Come Next, I'm not as eager to pull out the packing tape and call the realtor. Sure, we'll move if that's what our good God has in store for us. 

But now, having survived two full itches that led--literally--nowhere, I'm so aware of the Lord's goodness and kindness right here. Where we've been the last 13 and a half years. 

We didn't have to move to experience more good stuff because He is good. And He is with us wherever we go. 

Or stay.

Sometimes a geographical location rotation is just what the Lord has in mind. But sometimes I only need to readjust my gaze back to Him and His ever-present goodness. 

Right here. 

Right now.

Blog Tour---My Writing Process

Photo by Jusben.

Today is Blog Tour Day! This blog tour is about the writing process of, well, writers. My friend Lisha Cauthen tagged me for this tour. Lisha writes young adult novels for boys that girls like to read, too. You can check out her blog here.

What am I working on?
Currently, I'm working on a few profile pieces for a local magazine. Stories have the power to change people--whether those stories are fiction or nonfiction. When people share their stories, readers can see themselves reflected in the lives of strangers and leave with a little bit of hope or a feeling of being connected to a larger community.

I'm also searching for an agent for my picture book!

How does my work differ from others in its genre?
Whether I'm working on a picture book or a nonfiction article for a magazine, I always try to layer in humor. Even serious articles benefit from little doses of funny. Wit, in its various forms, helps "take the edge off" so readers can relax and feel safe with you. And it doesn't have to be a belly-laugh-inducing joke. It can be subtle like a play on words or an outlandish character in a picture book. 


Why do I write what I do?
I love the short form of picture books and the freedom they offer to play with language and be silly. Nonfiction articles for adults give me the opportunity to share unique ideas and fascinating stories with others. In both cases, my hope is to expand my world in the writing process and then invite readers to expand theirs.
 

How does my writing process work? 
Deadlines are my friend! If an editor assigns a project, I will move my little piece of heaven and earth to get that project done (and done to the best of my ability) on time or even before time. I never want editors to refer to me as difficult or unreliable. When it comes to my own projects and ideas, I give myself due dates to keep me writing and on track. I don't always listen to me, though, so I deeply appreciate writer friends who threaten me within an inch of my life to "Query another agent for that picture book!" For instance.

My actual process involves several notebooks, the backs of napkins and restaurant receipts, and even the Notes app on my phone. Once my idea has percolated in several places, I dump it all in a Word document and start cutting and pasting and adding and deleting and pacing and checking email and writing some more. After I have the skeleton down, I start editing, which is my favorite part of the process. How many words can I cut and still tell a great story? I don't know, but I'm sure as heck going to find out! Then I submit it to my critique group. And because they are a great group of writers and I trust their perspectives and opinions, I take my writing back to my computer and edit some more. Then, and only then, do I even consider sending it out in the world.

So, that's me. Leave a comment and let me hear about your writing processes. I'm always looking for new ways to improve how I work. And you might hold that key!

Next week...
On May 12, be sure to check out how these awesome bloggers handle their writing processes!

Sue Ford is an instructor through the Institute of Children's Literature, and she writes for children under her maiden name, Susan Uhlig. Her website (SusanUhlig.com) is packed full of writing resources, writerly quotes, and recommendations for children's books. You can also look there to find out about Sue's professional editing and critiquing services. Follow her on Twitter @susanuhlig.

Tanyalynnette Palmo is the CEO at the Allaxoung Group, Inc., (the parent company of EverydayWindshield.com) along with being a wife and mother of seven in a loving, blended family. 

What does she see as the goal of Everyday Windshield? "I want to bring style, fun, and sophistication to everything! The goal of EW is to become a platform of knowledge as an 'Online Magazine dedicated to the Celebration of the Journey of Life thru Faith, Family, Food and Fun'" 

Tanyalynnette has spent 20 years in the Information Technology field and is kinda-a-rockstar with all that stuff. =)

Kim Stokely is the wife of a submariner and has lived in eight states over the last 20 years. In 2004 the Navy transferred her family to Omaha, Nebraska, a perfectly logical move that never made sense to her mother. Kim's a member of the Nebraska Writer's Workshop, the Nebraska Writers Guild, the Heart of America Christian Writers Network, and the Christian Writers Guild (CWG).

Kim's novel Winter Trees was a semi-finalist in the CWG's 2010 Operation First Novel contest. Her first published novel, Woman of Flames, has received more than 25 five-star reviews and is available on Amazon.com and B&N.com.

* * *

Falling Forward into a Better Story

Photo by matthew_hull.

A few days ago, I ran with the unicorns at Donald Miller’s Storyline conference. I say “unicorns” because we were all in What if? and vision-casting mode for our lives. And because “unicorns” is a word you don’t hear every day. 

Storyline’s goal is to help you clarify your goals so you can live a better story. 

I came home Sunday buzzing with anticipation. And possibilities. And an eighth of a teaspoon of gumption.

But Monday came. Fortunately, a spare set of boot straps helped me pull myself up to a respectable height Tuesday. But it’s Thursday, and I’m groaning into the suds while I scrub pots and pans.

Why the angst after Don and his buddies inspired me so well over the weekend?

I stop washing. Slow my breathing. What is this feeling? I reach around inside and pull up Fear. How can I be afraid? I just spent a weekend in San Diego, for Pete’s sake! Fear keeps thrumming, so I rustle around inside some more and pull out a scrap of paper that reads, “What if I can’t make a great story? Or worse—what if I don’t really want to change?” 

Oh, God. Couldn’t I just have pulled out the flimsier-and-easier-to-deal-with feeling of Apathy? With apathy, you hardly have to feel at all. Status quo. Just keep going. Everything’s fine.

But the groaning continues, so I rummage around again. Dig deeper. I pull out Longing. Longing for more. Not more stuff. Not more money. What then? I concentrate harder. Ah, there it is. Glowing in the darkness behind that broken dream I forgot. The groaning for more Life. Not longer life. Just more packed into what I’m already allotted. I hear an echo in my heart: Jesus came that we may have life, and have it abundantly (John 10:10b).

Normally, I’d be whooping it up over a promise like that. Except, the word that catches my attention isn’t abundantly; the word that hooks me and reels me in is may. As in, I have permission. I can if I want. But here’s the question: Do I really want? Will I really grab life by the throat and say, “Come on! We’ve got STUFF to do, FUN to have, PEOPLE to love”? I want to say “You bet!” But there’s that fear thing tugging my sleeve. Urging me to use “wisdom” and think this through before making any rash decisions.

Remember when Jesus asked that blind guy what he wanted? I used to think that was a stupid question. Obviously, he wants so SEE, Jesus! Everyone knows that. Pffft. (Insert dramatic eye rolling here.)

But as the “blind guy” myself now, facing the Great Physician, knowing my whole life stands on the brink of Change or Not Change, I get why Jesus asked that question. And I see His kindness in letting me choose what and how much I want. Or how little.

Oh, how I want to want this promised abundant life.

As I drain the sink and watch the bubbles pop, I think about the first part of John 10:10, which says the thief comes to kill, steal, and destroy. 

But what if the devil isn’t the only one causing me mayhem, stealing and destroying all the good stuff God intends for me to enjoy? What if I am sometimes the thief in my own life, simply because I would rather watch from the sidelines than take part? Maybe the devil doesn’t have to show up so often because I do a pretty good job myself just by letting entropy take its course. 

A sobering thought: I help the thief ruin my life.

Um, about that question, Jesus: I want—I choose—a better story. Abundant life. Not the path of No Good Story Here. 

So, yes, please. I choose a better story. (Did You hear me over the sound of my knocking knees?)

What about you, friend? Does longing hide behind a broken dream in your heart? Do you long for a more lively, abundant life—a real page turner? As Donald Miller said last weekend, “Pick a direction and move toward it.” It’s that easy. And that hard. 

Come on. We can do this together. We’re sure to make a lot of mistakes, but at least we’ll be falling forward. Together.

(And if your knees are knocking like mine are, do yourself a favor and read Jon Acuff’s article, “The Ugly Truth About Bravery.”)

Simple and Few

 Photo by hotblack.
I've already met one of my resolutions for the New Year--begin the year without stepping on the scale--and 2014 is only several hours old. Success on Day One. I like it.

To keep that feeling of success, my goals for this new year are simple and few:

1. Blog more, even if that means doing it less purfeckly. (Oh, how I want to fix that word!)
2. Read a gajillion books minus nine. (That way, I can figure out once and for all--scientifically--how much a gajillion is.)
3. Spot more wildlife! (The highlights for me this year were spotting a whale off the coast of Bar Harbor, Maine; a shrew in Broadmayne, England; an owl, sitting by the roadside at dusk three weeks ago; and a heron perched on a rock in the middle of a frozen creek near our home last Sunday.)
4. End the year without stepping on the scale.

That's it for me. How about you? If your goals are not simple and fun, would you consider rewriting them? Let me know.

New Every Morning

by

Susan Coolidge

(1835 - 1905)

Every day is a fresh beginning,

Listen my soul to the glad refrain.

And, spite of old sorrows

And older sinning, 

Troubles forecasted

And possible pain,

Take heart with the day and begin again.

                                            

Hidden in Plain Sight

Photo by pschubert.

When you pay attention, you can find neat things spattered all around the space you occupy. Taking a closer look is what makes "old" or familiar things seem new or more interesting.

 When I flew round trip to Detroit last year, I spent considerable time in the Chicago airport there and back. On my return trip, the layout of the airport was more familiar, so I decided to kill time by "seeing what I could see."

As I meandered from gate to gate and from shop to shop, I discovered five previously unnoticed things:

1. A currency exchange bank. Instead of buying a cup of coffee, I might have been able to buy rand, real, or ringgit. Imagine that!
2. mental_floss magazine. Want to laugh and learn fun stuff at the same time? This is the magazine for you. I hadn't seen one at the Kansas City or Detroit airports' newsstands. 
3. A shoe hospital. Evidently, if your shoes need something more than a simple shine, you can take them to the Chicago airport to re-dandify them.
4. A Best Buy kiosk! To be fair, I have seen these in the Kansas City airport since my trip to Chicago. But at the time, this was an eye-peeler for me. Did you lose your camera? It's okay. Just swipe your credit card and a shiny new one will drop out of the kiosk before you can say, "What's my interest rate?". You're welcome.
5. Ruth from Maine. Sorry, but you are highly unlikely to find this one in your travels as she is a one-of-a-kind and is prone to moving about the country. I bet if you try, though, you can meet someone just as interesting. I dare you.

No travel plans in the near future? Look harder and closer right at home. Challenge your family or friends: "Whoever pays attention and finds the most interesting thing in their day today gets to...." (eat the first piece of dessert, choose our next fun night activity, decide what we're eating for dinner, etc.).

There's a whole year of neat stuff hidden in plain sight. Go ahead and be the one to win first dibs on dessert tonight!

 

Better Late Than Never

Here she is, just as I promised. 

Isn't she lovely? Look at that smile, those friendly eyes, and that gorgeous natural silver hair. (My dad refers to his as platinum blond.)

When I first spotted her, she was walking in the opposite direction way across the concourse in the Chicago airport. I did a double-take. Hey! That's the same kind of naturally gorgeous silver locks I'm trying to cultivate! 

Then the battle:  

Should I track her down and tell her I like her hair? 

Don't be silly. Walking up to a stranger in the middle of the Chicago airport on a Thursday just to tell her you love her silver strands is ludicrous. We do not do ludicrous. 

Oh, okay. 

So I steered myself back to my gate, stuffed my ears with earbuds, and listened to Switchfoot's Gone. Tried to concentrate on blending in to my chair. But on my second time through the song, when they got to the part that says, "She believes in living bigger, bigger than she's living now," I hoisted myself off the plastic and went in search of that particular silver-haired woman. In the midst of a swarm of hundreds.

Against many odds, I finally found her in the food court. She looked so pleasant that introducing myself and telling her I loved her hair wasn't so hard after all. Although I was nervous and didn't learn as much as if I'd been a braver version of myself, I did learn these things:

• Ruth and her husband Dave raised their three kids in Chicago. Since Dave is self-employed, they decided to cut loose seven years ago and make a move based on pure fun.
• So they up and moved to a little town called Norway, Maine, and bought a house with three acres on a lake.
• Their kids thought they were crazy.
• Ruth and Dave are having the time of their lives.

I want to be more like Ruth--silver hair, crazy moves, and having the time of my life. 

What if I hadn't renounced my airport chair and gone in search of the silver-haired lady? I would have been fine, but I also would have missed out on exercising my brave muscles. Even worse, I would have missed inspiration in the flesh. I'm so glad I did it. Even if it took me a year to tell you about it.

How about you? Do you have an "airport chair" you need to break up with? Think what you could be missing! 

Chains That Bind You

Photo by mconners.

In 2011, I posted about grief--to help me move through mine and hopefully help someone else move through theirs. Then I trumpeted 2012 with a January prescription to Take Joy. And fell silent for 11 months.

What happened? March came, and I meant to post about a lovely silver-headed woman I met in the Chicago airport. Her hair was so stunning that I spent 15 minutes of my layover trying to find her so I could tell her how beautiful her natural silver was. When I found her, she answered all my questions and graciously gave her permission for me to write about her on my blog.

Which I never did. Never even posted her picture.

Big deal, right? It's not like anyone died because of my procrastination or fear or busy-ness or whatever it was. Right? Right.

But this did happen: In the crack of that broken promise, something sneaky and life-sucking (shame and disappointment in myself) wormed its way in and rendered me motionless. 

So I've decided to fight back. I'm taking up the banner of Better Late Than Never and am going to tell you in my next post about Ruth. She'll probably never see I kept my promise to her, and for that I'm sorry. But I'm keeping my promise to me, and that's a big matter.

Are you blocked in your life somewhere? My experimental recipe might help you: Think back to right before you encountered that block. Did you promise something to yourself or someone else and fail to follow through? Go back and do it. No matter how stupid you feel or how much time has passed or how little you think it matters. And if you can't do it and it involves another person, swallow your pride and apologize to that person if you can. 

Unless you enjoy having a blockage you can't get around.

I'm cheering for you from over here. Let me know how it goes.

Take Joy

Photo by @jbtaylor

A year and a day ago, I had just stepped into the fresh and unsullied landscape of 2011. Being an ardent supporter and lover of All Things New and Beginning-like, my heart swelled with excitement. And I had plans. PLANS, I tell you!

But January 3, 2011, brought the shocking news of my brother's unexpected death. The world suddenly went grey. My excitement and plans vanished in a wisp of smoke, and I was shoved unceremoniously onto the HMS Uncertainty for my cruise down the Grief Canal.

Exactly twelve months later, I'm standing on the banks again. My legs wobble beneath me; having traveled so long by ship, the memory of land is a distant one for them. What to do now?

When you spend a year keeping company with grief or with some other heavy burden, a dull emotional landscape seems quite normal. You forget what fun is---what it looks like and how it feels. Answering a simple question like "What would you like to do?" might feel like an enormous tax on your brain. Or, at the very least, like a trick. "What do you mean what would I like to do?" The problem doesn't lie in the fact that you have suddenly started keeping company with practical jokers. The problem is simply that you have been piled high with life-suckers such as worry, fear, sorrow, or even over-busyness and that you have become a stranger to your own heart.

If you find yourself in similar emotional circumstances, I urge you to try this remedy: Take joy. Just as you might take two aspirin for a headache or take a nap to revive your tired body, joy is something you must take. On occasion, it might be offered to you through the kindness of friends and strangers. At some point, however, you must learn to take it for yourself.

I learned this only recently for myself. In fact, I still don't have it all figured out, this taking joy business. But I'd like to share with you a few steps I've taken that have helped me. Try them yourself. You deserve to have your joy back.

1. Spend time every day soaking in some peace and quiet. Even if it's only five minutes. Your nerves might be shell-shocked, and your heart deserves the quiet to refresh itself. I spend my time intentionally focusing on God and reading the bible. I've found the book of Psalms most helpful.
2. Say no to things that suck the life out of you--even things you used to like very much. Maybe you used to enjoy a weekly book club, but now it feels like so much work to get out the door and go. Say no to it for now. And don't worry about disappointing people or leaving more work for someone else to do. If the people you are saying no to are your friends or if they are the least bit understanding, they will cheer you on your way to finding joy. If they don't, you don't need to spend time with them right now, anyway. And vacating your position gives others who have more enthusiasm and energy to join in and offer their gifts and talents. Tip: Spending time doing Step 1 will help you learn which things you need to say no to.
3. Bless your heart--take joy--every single day. Not sure what gives you joy? Go on frequent Joy Hunts. Pay attention to what, exactly, catches your interest. What textures, tastes, sounds, colors, or objects lighten your mood? I found out that I love red and purple, candles, hot tea, birds, skeleton keys, antique architectural details, and period movies (Pride and Prejudice, Downton Abbey, Cranford, and Return to Cranford, for example). If I am short on time, but I need to take a dose of joy, I might close my eyes and inhale the scent of a favorite candle. If I have more time, I might go to a yarn store and handle all the soft red and purple yarns. Whatever gives you joy, try to do some of it every day.

Proverbs 17:22 in the New American Standard Bible says this: "A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones."

In this new year of 2012--whatever 2011 brought your way--I urge you treat yourself well, my friend. Whatever your ailment, take your medicine. Take joy.

My Brother's Birthday

May 11, 1958, fell on Mother's Day that year. And that's the day my brother showed up. Mom lost so much blood, the doctors thought they were going to lose her.

Mom always told us that Greg was 6 years, 7 months, and 11 days older than me. Even though he was so much older, he was a great brother. Not perfect, but perfect for me. Greg always took time to play with me, he was an amazing artist and taught me some of his secrets, and he always let me tag along with him and his friends. As adults, he always called me on my birthday, and he always ended our calls with, "I love you."

Happy Birthday, Greg. I love you and I miss you.

Grief Dreams

Photo by marykbaird.

Last night I dreamed I was on a cruise ship, and we were sinking. I wasn't scared, though. Just trying to get to higher ground.

A Side Note

Here I sit at my computer, reading your kind comments in response to my grief journey and posting my replies. I thought just this morning how I feel so much better and how writing about my loss helps me heal. Maybe even faster than normal. And maybe it helps you, too.

Then I opened my email. The Mail Delivery Subsystem wrote me to say, "Delivery to the following mail recipient has been delayed." You guessed it: my brother's email.

The lump is back again and the tear ducts are working just fine. I hate this.

As I Travel Down the Grief Canal (Part 1)

Photo by hotblack.

Within five minutes of receiving the shocking news of my brother's sudden death, I found myself--without a suitcase or itinerary--standing on the deck of HMS Uncertainty, cruising through the waters of the Grief Canal.

Six minutes earlier, I had been talking to my visiting uncle, who sat just ten feet from me in our den. Immediately after The Call, I stood waving in confusion to my uncle, who now watched me from the banks of the Grief Canal.

Of course, I didn't know I was on the Grief Canal and that someone else had booked passage for me. I only knew I was alone, the skies were dark and threatening, and a painful lump had replaced my heart and was pressuring on my tear ducts.

Soon, someone--I don't know who--steered me to my room. People walked past and smiled, their faces fuzzy and out of focus. People I knew from home--my husband and children, friends, other family members--called to check on me. But their voices--though thick like peanut butter with concern and love for me--sounded distant, like I had slipped down a tin tunnel, far out of their reach. I slept. I cried. I felt the aching lump in my chest and wondered if my eyelids would ever return to their normal, smaller size.

Stewards left food for me. Sometimes I ate. Mostly, I pushed the food from one side of the plate to the other. I slept again. After several days, I opened my door and looked down the long hallway. There on the floor outside my door, was a pair of slippers in my size.

I slid my feet inside the slippers and stepped into the hallway. Stewards passed me, smiling and nodding. Can I get you anything? How are you doing today, Mrs. Beers? I don't need anything, but thank you. I think I'm doing better. Thank you for asking.

Shuffling down the hallway, the warm breezes beckoned from the deck. I breathed deeply. My shoulders relaxed, and I closed my eyes in the sunshine. When I returned to my room, I called my husband and said, "I feel better. I think I'm okay now!"

That's what I get for doing my own thinking.

Ignorance is Bliss

Between January 2 and 3, there was a space of about 22 hours when I didn't know. I was blissfully unaware of the fact. But, being unaware, was I really in a state of bliss? If you'd asked me---in my pre-knowing state---"Are you blissful?" I would have snorted. "What? Are you trying to accuse me of ignorance?" You would have chuckled.


I would have served you coffee. We would have chatted, and I would have told you my grand plans for the coming New Year. Some of my hopes would have included him.


"I'm going to uncork my courage and talk to him about his drinking," I would have told you. "I want to prod him out of his apathy and get him drawing again." I would sip my coffee, thinking. "I want to have a deeper and more meaningful friendship with my brother."


"When will you do all this?" you would ask, adding two lumps and a splash of cream.


My heart would flutter; my palms would sweat. "Maybe this week."


Then we would drink our coffees, dreaming of our big plans in those last 45 seconds before my 22 hours were up. But the phone would ring. The news would be delivered: "Your brother died about this time yesterday."

Hindsight is 20/20: Ignorance was bliss.

All my future chances--my "next weeks"--to talk to my brother are gone. Forever.

But there are other beating hearts I love, other encouragement I can offer, and maybe even a lovingly applied kick-in-the-pants or two.

I should act now and be afraid later.

Is Your New Year Going to be New for You?

Photo by circulating.

I love the New Year. If you don't believe me, click here.

The New Year gives society as a whole permission to say goodbye to what was--the good, the bad, and the ugly--and to welcome in the "what might be." I like to cooperate with the rest of the world's New Year celebration by dreaming about what could be new for me this coming year.

As I chatted with a long-distance friend this week about her New Year's plans and resolutions, she sighed. "I really want to start sculpting again." I'd heard this from her before. "I don't know," she said. "I guess I'll just wait and see what happens." She says this every time, and every time, I nod my head and say, "Uh-huh."

This time, though, I screwed up my courage and said, "You know, nothing changes if nothing changes. You want different this year? You have to do different." (Oprah would be proud of me.)

"Yeah, maybe," she said. Not what you'd call a valliant line-in-the-sand kind of action, but for her, it was a step.

The next morning, I turned that phrase over and over in my mind: Nothing changes if nothing changes. Last year, on the brink of 2010, I seriously considered joing a gym to get in a shape other than the one I was in. Nah, I decided. I'll save the money and work out at home instead.

Well, guess what? I didn't work out. And therefore, I didn't lose the weight I wanted to ditch, I didn't gain the energy I wanted to harness, and I didn't improve my cholesterol scores. (Although, I must admit I got pretty good at Spider Solitaire.) In contrast, I did lower my level of confidence and my ability to engage in Olympic shopping without needing an hour-long nap. Not super happy with those results. I'm going to change that this year. (Make sure you check back with me.)

What is it you want different for yourself this year? Less stress? Better relationships? More time to read or write or go caneoing? A cleaner house? More fun in your life? To stop smoking? To stop screaming at your kids? To dance more often and in cuter shoes?

In 2011, what are you willing to do different so you can have different? Once you make up your mind, don't reconsider when the going gets tough; recommit. (If you need help walking through the process of setting a goal you'll stick with, I recommend reading "Chapter 2: Embracing Change" in the book, Curves Fitness & Weight Management Plan, by Gary Heavin, Nadia Rodman, and Cassie Findley.)

I'm not your mother, and I'm not a travel agent for guilt trips. I'm just a friend who's making a change--for real this year--and I'm inviting you to come along. What's your New Year going to look like? My New Year is going to shape up nicely.

Language Lessons

Wedding photo of Jacob (sitting) and Pauline (standing) Diel on November 22, 1925.

Language is an amazing thing, isn't it? Experts tell us that language learning begins in the womb, before our first coo or da-da is ever uttered. For some of us, learning to talk gives our parents joy, even as they beg the good Lord to "shut that kid up for just one second, will ya?"

I've been thinking lately how the language of people I love affects me even now as an adult, even though they are long gone from my life. I'm a native speaker of Amercian English, but thanks to my Grandma Diel---born in a German village near the Caspian Sea in Russia before the assassination of the czar---my everyday speech is peppered with several "low-German" words and phrases. In fact, certain words of Grandma's are so ingrained in me that my brain calls them up as the default setting, rather than their English counterparts. When I want to discuss things like cleaning spilled milk, ufeshlumba comes readily to mind. Or if I want to give directions to Mr. Johnson's house, I say that his house is easy to spot because it sits shraeks on the corner. These words are part of my DNA, and I love it when I see them seeping in to my kids' speech.

If your vocabulary could use a little freshening up, by all means, feel free to borrow from my grandma. Below are some of my favorites, creative spelling and pronunciation guide included.

• ufeshlumba (OO-fesh-loemba)---literally, an "up-wipe rag"; great for cleaning up all kinds of liquid messes.



• shraeks (shrakes)---this is what you say to describe anything off kilter; you position the lid shraeks on the pot so the steam can escape as the water boils.



• bahzoof---the modern German equivalent would be pass auf (take care or look out), but Grandma pronounced it bah-ZOOF and always wagged her finger at you as she said it. Her meaning was clear: "You better watch out or......" (fill in the blank).



• Haase kniddle---pronounced HA-zuh kuh-NID-dle; Haase, meaning rabbit, and kniddle, meaning, well...excrement; used (usually while giggling) to describe the shape of poo in the diaper of a grandchild experiencing constipation.



• weisskopf---pronounced VICE-kopf; literally, "white head"; used to describe any person with lightning-blond hair. Marilyn Monroe was a weisskopf.

So there you have it: my trip down memory lane and how a little girl growing up along the Volga River in 1912 still leaves her mark in the life of a 45-year-old woman in 2010 America.

What about you? Do you have any language lessons you'd like to share with the class?

I'm Not a Doctor, Nor Do I Play One on TV...

Photo by [lauren nelson].

...so I'm dispensing my medical advice for free and you don't have to foot the bill for an addition to my home.

This summer I developed--overnight, it seemed--horribly dry eyes. My eyes felt scratchy. Similar to the feeling you get when you wash your face with sandpaper in the desert at 120 degrees. Only in my eyes.

I'd never suffered with dry, scratchy eyes before, so I was stumped. I bought a popular brand of eye drops purported to "get the red out," but a friend insisted I stop using them immediately (per her eye doctor's instructions) and use a brand that sounds like the word "sustain." I did exactly what Wendy demanded, because she can be pretty scary when she's in "Mother Mode." And the drops did help. But still, I wondered, why was I having this problem in the first place?

Making an appointment with the eye doctor seemed the thing to do. Certainly he could/should/would help me, right? Yeah, not so much. He basically told me (this is my paraphrase), "Gee, that's too bad about your scratchy-as-the-desert kind of eye problem. Keep using those drops, though, okay?" I estimate my bill will be about the cost of one square foot of his new addition.

The next week when I went in to pick up my new eyeglasses, I complained to Debbie--the best Eyeglass Frame Picker Outer and Adjuster ever--that I had no answers to my dilemma. Debbie perked right up. "Let me get Dr. D and see if she has any ideas." Back came Debbie with Dr. D who listened to my complaints.

"Hmm," she said. "How old are you?"

"Forty-five."

Dr. D raised her eyebrows at me.

"And three quarters."

She nodded. "Could very well be hormonal fluctuations. Do you take fish oil?"

"Sure do. About 2,000 milligrams three times a week."

"Up your dosage and take 2,000 milligrams morning and night, every day. Do that, and I bet you'll see a difference soon."

I promised to follow her advice, and she gave me a prescription for a heavy-duty nighttime eye drop to use as needed. And she didn't charge me. Not for a room addition or a cup of coffee.

I never had to fill that prescription. Two days later, my eyes felt normal again, like I had gone from desert and sandpaper to tropical island and coconut oil.

Here's that free advice I promised you: if you're a 45-and-three-quarters-year-old woman with uncommonly dry eyes, and you take fish oil periodically, up your dosage and see if that helps.

Just remember: I'm not a doctor. So ask yours first before you try this.

After you ask him if he's adding a room or pool to his house.

Churn Some Butter!

Photo by insane photoholic.

I recently signed up for a free, online community called SparkPeople.com. It’s chock-full of neat tools and gizmos, message boards and online support to help you meet your fitness goals. Problem is, I’m in no mood these days to be setting goals, fitness or otherwise. But it was free, so…

This morning I logged in and saw that I could earn three points just for reading this tiny article. (I might not be up for setting goals, but I’m always up for earning points.) The title, “Going Through the Emotions,” grabbed me because, although I am running low in the goal-setting department, I am spurting like a geyser in the emotions department these days.

Frog in a Bucket

The author, Mike Kramer, tells the story of the frog who falls into a pail of cream and can’t jump out. In his panic he kicks and squirms and kicks and squirms. Soon, his kicks and squirms turn that cream into a block of churned butter and he can hop right out of the pail. At the end of the story, Mike says, “Here’s how your story and his intersect. If he only saw the hopelessness of his situation and started feeling sorry for himself, he would have sunk to the bottom. But instead he kept kicking. He kicked not because he knew it would help him escape, but because he was compelled to, he had no choice. He kicked because the alternative was no alternative at all.”

I’ve been thinking about that; sinking to the bottom is not the fate I wish for me. So it looks like I’ve got to churn some butter. But how do I go about churning butter with all the required kicking and squirming if I don’t have the energy? Baby steps. And baby steps will work, too, because baby steps are the same as churning when you compare them to doing nothing.

My Baby Steps

Baby Step 1: I’m keeping a gratitude journal. Focusing on the good instead of the bad encourages me and reminds me that there is good in each day. I just have to look harder some days than others, but a little hard work might do me some good.

Baby Step 2: Reaching out to others. The quickest way for me to sink is to let go of the hands around me. So what if they’re not reaching out to me when I think they should? I bet if I reach out to them they will gladly clasp my hand and save me from another day at the bottom of the cream bucket. It’s worth a try.

Baby Step 3: Making time to laugh. I visit icanhascheezburger.com any time I want a good giggle.

Do you need to churn some butter in your life? Take a minute to list your own baby steps, then write me and tell me what you’re doing. That can count as your “Reaching Out to Others” baby step.