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Caught In Transition: Scattered and Splattered

I’m usually a mess. Scattered and splattered and easily brought down. I used to blame it on my creative nature. After all, I’m an artist. I wholeheartedly embrace the insanity gene I inherited from some long-dead ancestor. I mean, how else can I account for those voices whispering in my head?

But I’m in transition now, working to separate THOSE voices from MY voices.

If I allow it, MY voices loudly berate me because the dust bunnies are on the rampage and the fridge is empty…again. And listen, the roads will be icy tomorrow and I might have to leave my house and navigate ice covered streets better made for skates. And gosh, wouldn’t it be fun to head somewhere warm—sans computer—and lie on a beach and listen to the waves crash against the shoreline? Maybe spend the winter chilling with a bottle of sunblock in my hand instead of a snow shovel?

Scattered + Splattered

However, with a deadline fast approaching, my life and my thoughts must revolve around the keyboard, and the voices that whisper their story in my ear. So when MY loud voice intrudes, and I get caught up in thoughts of tasks undone, past regrets, and unlikely-to-ever-occur fears, I take a deep breath, release it, and remember…all that exists is this moment, this day…and then I unsplatter and get back to the business of completing this book.

It doesn’t matter our age, whether we work inside or outside the home, whether we have children or not, whether those children are at the diaper stage, or full grown and on their own.

Life is too short to focus on past regrets or future fears. There’s only enough time today for…well, the moments that make up today.

Scattered + Splattered

So tell me…do you celebrate each moment as it happens? Or do the voices in your head demand you spend time on past regrets and future fears and everything in-between? Please tell me in the comments below what you plan to do in the moments after you leave this page. And then tell me whether or not you’ll intentionally and deliberately block out the disruptive voices so you can immerse yourself in the joy of each moment.

Shark Week Begins!

With the onset of shark week, I feel myself counting my blessings. Not only is the closest beach to my home, New Smyrna Beach, also known as the shark attack capital of the world, but my family is facing some life challenges serious enough to scare anyone. Way more than a silly old shark bite.


Aging stinks, but it beats the alternative. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I’d rather be alive, aches and pains and all as opposed to being six feet underground. Life is good. Challenging, but good. For me, all is well at this point. I can still keep up with my kids and for any mom, that’s a huge marker in life.

My aging father is facing that major change in life, when one must transition from working professional to retired…retired…what? Who? Who are we when we give up our life-long adult identity?

It’s a tough question for men, one becoming equally tough for women with every passing generation. We, as writers, explore these issues for characters, but what about our own lives? Personally, I feel like writing is something I can do forever. It’s not physical. Age won’t be a factor in who gets the job. It’s about creativity. Mental capability. I’m growing older and wiser, right?

Aches and pains need not apply. My craft is mental. Except in the event I lose my faculties. Alzheimer’s, dementia…who knows what afflictions could await me down the road. What if I find myself at a place where I can no longer write? I’m not planning on it, but it could happen…

It would be tough. Real tough. And when I think about “me” in a place where I can no longer follow and “do” my passion, how would I feel?

Defeated, which opens the door to illness. “Hello aches and pains!” Looks like your back, in full force.

Old age isn’t for kids. It’s hard business. Can suck the life out of you, if you let it. I choose the alternative. Count my blessings, share them with others. Fight the good fight as long as I can while enjoying one heckuva ride!

you can almost here them...

Life is good. Family, friends, writing to my heart’s content. In the end, that’s what matters. Looking back over the path you’ve taken and being able to say, “Good. It’s been a good ride. Challenging, tricky at times, but good. I’m still here.” Turning to the path ahead and deciding, “I’m ready. Give me all you’ve got. I’m not afraid of you. Sharks, yes. The future, no. I’m going for it.”


When Thunder Rolls

Last night, we had a series of thunder storms pass through our area. In the middle of the night, we stood on our roof covered deck while lightning flashed around us and thunder boomed in our ears.

I don’t recall having storms like this when I was a kid. But ever since a tornado swept through our area in 1987, killing 37 people, injuring hundreds more, my awareness of storms has increased.

And I’m fascinated by them. On hot humid days like yesterday, I check the Weather Network because they almost always have a weather warning in place. And then I watch the sky.

Crazy storms like last night’s make my heart pound and my stomach churn. The lightning flashed like those disco strobe lights from the 80’s, blinding if you looked at it, impossible to avoid. It flashed so often and so quick, there was no time to close my eyes or look away. It rained so hard, it pounded on the rooftop like hail, while water filled the gentle curves and valleys on our property.

We stood there for nearly an hour, spellbound by the powerful, dangerous storm. Across the farmer’s field, two power transformers blew. The shockwave from a boom of thunder set off our neighbor’s car alarm, his headlights flashing on and off in the distance, the alarm barely distinguishable over the sound of the storm. A few minutes later, another shockwave turned on the light on our automatic garage door opener which was inside the closed garage.

After the storm blasted through, we climbed back into bed. Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder rumbled through the open bedroom window, bringing with it a cool breeze on my face. It was cozy and peaceful and put me to sleep.

Since ’87, we’ve had numerous tornadoes rip across the Canadian prairies, some with deadly consequences, others with only property damage. But when the threat of one is in the air, am I smart enough to stay indoors or hide in the basement? Apparently not.

How about you? What dangerous thing fascinates you more than it terrifies you?

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