What Publishing and Sharks Have in Common

This morning I'm thinking of the 12 people who went to work at Building 197 in Washington, DC's Navy yard yesterday morning who will never return to their families and loved ones. Events and tragedies such as this one boggle the mind. We just never know when it's our turn. Even with a strong faith, we have a hard time understanding it all, especially when children are involved. I have a hard time with that.

We're left with many questions. Was this merely their time? Did any of those who perished have a feeling that they should have called in sick that morning? Is there a rhyme or reason to life? Why do good people die and why do others escape within an inch of their life? How does it feel to be next to someone who loses his or her life and you escape? I don't know the answers.

While taking a break from swimming in the waters of Cape Hatteras two weeks ago, I watched a black Lab try very hard not to follow his master into the surf. He or she had a hard time remaining in a sitting position, but ultimately obeyed his master who repeatedly told him to sit and stay. The Lab continued to wiggle his bottom and wag his tail in anticipation for the call from his master that never came, so he remained on the shore. When I caught this shot, the Lab raised a paw as if he were begging to join his master. I could feel his nervousness and see his jittery actions from where I was sitting in my comfy beach chair with a cold Dos XX beer.

Minutes later, a few yards away, a surf fisherman caught a Black Tip shark in three feet of water. I knew he was reeling in something large and 15 minutes later, I saw the shark's fin. Holy shnikies. I shuddered to think what could happened to the dog's master or the dog had he gone into the water. My friends, their children and I swam in that very spot earlier in that morning. Wow. I didn't want to think about that, either. Needless to say, everyone on the beach remained close to shore or swam in the tide pool that afternoon with no life guard present.

Life. We just never know what's coming down the road for us, sometimes at warp speed. Did the dog know the shark was out there? Did he want to protect and warn his master? Who knows.

Ever since the release of the movie, Jaws and watching Shark Week religiously for years, I've remained in waist high water and very vigilant in the ocean. Murky waters and I don't go in. But, I remember that it bugged me that I couldn't force myself to go in deeper that morning. The waters were crystalline blue and I was excited to ride the high waves with my friend's children on their boogie boards. And then, voila. There was my worst fear realized--a damn shark.

I felt conflicted as the shark was reeled in and flopped around on the shore. My emotions went in so many directions. I love nature, animals and here was this majestic shark with a huge hook in its mouth. I fidgeted on the beach and called out to hurry up and remove the hook. I wanted the fisherman to lead the shark back into the water as soon as humanly possible which he did. I didn't want the shark to die and yet, I wanted that shark out of the water because I wanted to swim and ride the waves and for people to be safe!

I ended up going back into the ocean the next day with a fishing rod and blood worms as bait (should have used squid or shrimp). I surf fished for the first time in waist-high water. I loved it. I was taking a risk, but that's what I had to do. I had to get back into the water, but I wanted to be distracted by fishing which I love. I don't get it either, so don't worry if you're not following my thought processes. We're all more complicated that we realize! It was the only way I could return to the ocean.

Since this is a blog about the writing life and I'm a writer, of course, my thoughts go to my novel, A Decent Woman. I dove into clear waters by writing my book in 2006 and wasn't worried about the future. I had no clue about the writing business or how difficult it would be to see my novel in print. I had to leave my manuscript a year later when my marriage fell apart and I left Europe where I'd lived for 13 years. The waters quickly became murky and I didn't touch my novel for four years while I worked full time, saw my kids through university, and went back to school. I jumped back into the writing waters in 2010 and with editing and querying agents, have swum against heavy currents since then with the publishing business as it is today. Some days, the waters are crystal clear for me and others are murky as hell when I want to chuck it all and self-publish.

Would I have started writing my novel if I'd known how frustrating and 'dangerous' to my emotions and mindset writing and the publishing world can be when you're trying to sell your book? Yes. I love the ocean and writing and yes, I have a fear of sharks and never seeing my book in print. What can you do, but protect yourself as much as possible and continue living and writing which I intend to do.

I've just had to develop thicker skin and remain committed to my novel-length manuscript and second novel which I'm presently writing. Don't wait to write if you feel that urge. Just do it. Jump in and swim.

Ellie

Kind Of a Review of The Paris Wife

After buying Paula McLain's historical novel, The Paris Wife, it took me months to begin reading. The book was garnering good reviews, I love Paris and especially love novels about Paris in the 1920's. I'm a fan of Ernest Hemingway's novels and yet...I hesitated in opening the book. 

Interestingly enough, McLain's book sat next to Hemingway's book, A Moveable Feast, a set of memoirs he wrote during the Paris years which I'd bought during a visit to Key West, Florida a few years back. And, never read.

Elizabeth Hadley Richardson was Hemingway's first wife and the wife he took to Paris. The wife he cheated on and ultimately left for another woman. Why was I having a hard time opening the book? Because of a Hemingway quote I'd heard about his first wife, Hadley which I didn't know was from A Moveable Feast when I first heard the quote.

"I wished I had died before I ever loved anyone but her." Hmmm.

I hadn't read McLain's previous books and didn't know a thing about Hadley Richardson, but I could already relate to Richardson's story as a woman and as a woman whose husband of 25 years had cheated on and ultimately left. I knew it would be an emotional read for me and so, the book sat on my bedside table for months until curiosity prevailed. I picked up the book several times and put it down. I hesitated, but finally got to the point where I couldn't put the book down. I realized it had nothing to do with McLain's book. It was about me.

I loved the book, but to protect my heart, I decided to read the novel as a writer. I wasn't going to fall in love with Hadley. I didn't want my heart to be broken along with her's, so I began reading the novel as a text book. I began highlighting passages that appealed to me as a writer and studied McLain's writing style which I enjoyed. She made 1920 Paris come alive for me.

Then, a funny thing happened. I read the first few chapters and realized that the descriptions of Hadley weren't enough for me. I was beginning to know her heart and quietly walked by her side as she first met Hemingway and they fell in love. My heart ached even while reading the happy, early days because I knew that her heart would eventually break into a million pieces at the end. Did I really want to know the ending? It was too late. I already knew that he'd cheated on her. I was a now voyeur with no voice.

I searched for photographs of Hadley. I wanted to see the face of the woman whose heart would be broken. She was beautiful. That's when everything changed and I began reading The Paris Wife as a woman, not as a writer.

I wondered about my own historical novel-length manuscript, A Decent Woman. How would make my readers connect with Ana Belen, my protagonist since there are no known photographs of her? Ana has no biography other than blogs I've written about her and her connection with my family. Could my readers connect with an Afro-Cuban midwife who lived in the early 1900's in Ponce, Puerto Rico?

It is up to me to paint a portrait of my character Ana with words and it is ultimately up to me to make my readers care about Ana and what happens to her. I realized this week that the haunting photographs of Hadley are just that, photographs. The photographs didn't help me get a better feel for Hadley and Ernest, McLain's story did that for me. Reading Hadley's biography didn't paint a picture of her for me and the photographs of her didn't give me any more insight into her, her marriage to Hemingway nor their life in Paris. 

McLain's novel brought Hadley and Paris in the 1920's to life for me. I loved it and as I suspected, I cried along with Hadley. I was happy to read that she went on to marry again and was married a long time to her second husband.

Bravo, Paula McLain. Now, I must read A Moveable Feast to get Hemingway's "side of the story" of their years in Paris.

Happy Friday, everyone.

Ellie

Goddesses, Every One

Happy Birthday to me!

I turned 56 years old today. I've heard that 60 is the new 50, so I'm not sweating my age today. I'm happy I woke up. That's a huge blessing right there. It's a rainy, muggy day, but I'm happy, grateful and content to be alive on this amazing planet of ours.

Women in their 50's, 60's and on up look great these days, don't they? We're eating better, we're more active, still outliving men (I think), and older women are just plain damn sexy. Just look at Helen Mirren, Suzanne Somers, Meryl Street, Julianne Moore, and Diane Sawyer, sexy and smart. How about Catherine Denueve, Jaqueline Bisset, Michelle Pfeiffer, Dame Judy Dench and Susan Sarandon? There are probably face lifts in that group, Botox injections and personal trainers, but who are we to judge? I'm not saying "no" to anything just yet, but I'm afraid of surgery, so I doubt a face lift is in my future. Botox? Maybe as a Christmas gift to myself one day!

I don't love turning 56, but I am healthy, happy and sane, all good things. My kids might beg to differ about the sane part, however. I'm sure I drive them bonkers and I believe that's my new role. I'm more outspoken now than when I was younger and I have a lot to say--much to their chagrin, believe me. So, my children adore that I write a blog and write poetry and historical fiction novels. I'm busy and out of their hair.

Joking aside, I'm blessed and I know it. I'm at peace with where I am in my life and I have a loving family and great friends around me. I love what I do and I'm fortunate to do what I love. What's not to love about all that?

When I turn 60, I'll smile that I'm not yet 70 years old and when I turn 70, I'll keep thanking God for that day and pray for more years with my family. Hell, I'm asking for a few more decades! It's all about gratitude, perspective and abundance, isn't it? There's plenty to go around.

Living a healthy life, being positive-minded and productive, and staying young-at-heart are key to a fruitful life and it's wonderful to have friends of all ages. Which I do. Early this morning, beautiful birthday wishes started rolling in on Facebook, followed by emails and texts from friends and family. I am blessed and very fortunate to have such amazing people in my life, some I've never met. They are my blogging buddies who I count as dear friends.

My friend's ages range from 21 to 78 and I love them all. My oldest friend looks like she's in her 60's. She runs her own real estate business and puts me to shame most days with all her running around and high energy level. We can be as different as night and day in many ways, but we share the same outlook on life--LIVE IT AND STOP COMPLAINING. She is one of my many role models.

Now, my friends and I do have our bitch sessions, don't get me wrong. We are great sounding boards for each other when discussing our kids, grandkids, and husbands if we have one. Boyfriends are always a great source of humor, heart and hugs, if we have one. It ain't over til it's over, I say!

All women are goddesses in my eyes, no matter what the age.Younger women would highly benefit from befriending an older woman--a mentor, a confidant and a cheerleader. I had my goddess mentors when I was growing up and again, in my 40's and now. Women who have taught me about patience, grace, forgiveness and life. For that, I thank my grandmother, aunts and my mother. I respect Marianne Williamson, Sonia Choquette, Cheryl Richardson, Louise Hayes, and yes, Oprah. I love Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Mother Theresa, Maya Angelou, SARK, and Saints Bernadette and Theresa, The Little Flower. I've learned from all these women and the list is much longer, believe me.

During the last couple of years, younger women have told me that they watch my comings and goings, my travels and my adventures. At first, I was surprised. I wasn't old or wise enough to be an older goddess! But now, I get it. Two of my favorite sayings are, "Be the change you wish to see", by Ghandi and "Lead and teach by example."

Take that chance, the risk, seize that opportunity, and always keep growing. Take your vitamin D, too.

Peace and love to you.
Ellie

Going Solo and Taking Risks in Life

I replaced the power cord on my laptop last year and was back in business. This morning, my newish power cord didn't do the job. I'm borrowing my neighbor's power cord and had to apply plumbing tape just to keep it plugged in.

Ellie Unplugged. I don't like the sound of that, so my son ordered me yet another power cord. Thank you, son! I just pray it's not my laptop...that would suck royally.

I love new beginnings whether it's me, someone I love or a complete stranger. I love challenges, new experiences and new vistas and my children are no strangers to new beginnings. We started new lives in the United States after my marital separation in Belgium 2005 where we'd lived for 13 years. I taught my children by example to embrace new beginnings and take risks in life and they are certainly following my lead--my son is taking a three week "lone wolf" trek through Southeast Asia next month.

My initial reaction was a dropped jaw as I heard the news from my son on the phone this afternoon. But I know my son--he will research everything he can possibly research and he's travel savvy enough to know that he has to be careful and watchful. He has consulate phone numbers, train schedules and names of hotels on the way, but he's solo. I'm thrilled and worried at the same time. However, I raised fearless children and that makes me proud. I shouldn't be surprised that he is ready for this international trek.

My son invited his sister, my daughter, on this trip which really warmed my heart. But she is in graduate school and working part-time, not a good time for her. I'm PRAYING that she can go on one portion of the trip as she has always wanted to visit Southeast Asia. I think this would be a great trip for them both. My daughter is on her own adventure with graduate school and her new beginning will be when she graduates--she's a natural born therapist. I'm as thrilled for her as this is her passion in life and the happiest day will be when she graduates and my other happiest day will be when my son returns from this "lone wolf" trip!!

I joked with my son that I had time off and could go along on his adventure and knew that he'd laugh--he did :) It's not my place to go on this trip or any trip that my children go on these days. These are my children's life adventures and I'm thrilled for them. I did good with these two. I'm so proud of their life's achievements and their courage in the face of adversity when it has hit. I couldn't ask for any more from my children--they amaze me and I love them more than life itself.

Writing a book takes a lot of the same things that we're talking about here--risk taking, stamina, courage, resilience, strength of character, facing rejection and setbacks, and love of our stories and characters. Writing my first book, A Decent Woman, was a new chapter for me and seeing my book in print will be a whole new beginning and I'm more than ready for that!

Take the risk for your dream and passion in life--you'll never be sorry you did. Just put one foot in front of the other and walk toward your new beginning.

Peace and love,
Ellie

Memorabilia, History and Shenanigans

There are many things I hold precious in this world and I'm a very sentimental person, so I hold onto items that have special meaning to me.  My kids call me a pack rat and they're right. I need to be better at this, but there are a few things that I would never throw out.

As I looked in the attic for the journal I kept during my walk on El Camino and the photographs we took on the morning we left Brussels and on the last day when we finally reached the city of Santiago de Compostela, I found so many things that made me smile and shudder. I'm in the early stages of my second novel, Finding Gracia on El Camino, and I wanted to set the mood.

I've kept 90% of everything my children have ever drawn at home, on vacation or in school from the time they could barely hold a pencil to their college days. From a tiny drawing, to their first attempts at letters and sentences to their college papers. I know, that's a lot and I keep it all in a huge plastic Rubbermaid container up in my attic. Thank God for attics! Their school trophies and academic achievement certificates are up there with their high school and college graduation gowns, caps and tassels, too. That was the part that made me shudder. I need to go through those papers and keep just the best, but it's tough!

I still have my children's silver baby cups engraved with their names and the date of their births, and I have my ex-husband's baby cup, as well. I've also kept many items, newspapers and magazines printed on the day of their births as well as their belly buttons and first bottles and pacifiers. Nuts, right? Not to me. For whatever reason, my mother didn't save a lot of things for my sister and I, so I vowed I'd do things a bit different. It could have been that we were a military family and hauling all that extra stuff was a pain. Could be. 

My sister and I have tried to split the family albums and shared photographs with each other. Photographs galore. In newer albums, loose photographs and photographs pasted to those old albums with the waxy paper in between the pages and black paper edges. Remember those? All in a container so that the mice don't get to them.

In another container, I keep things from my childhood and young adulthood. I have a Mother's Day card I made my mother on a piece of manila paper. It's a pencil and crayon drawing of cheerful flowers in a blue vase and I wrote in cursive: "To the best mother in the world. Your daughter, Eleanor."  I was always drawing and I remember drawing many things for my mother, but this is the only drawing I found after she passed away in 1992. She kept many cards in the drawer of her bedside table and she showed my handmade card to me the year before she passed away. I often wonder if my mother somehow knew her time was short because that same year, she gave me a pair of my baby shoes and a mint green dress I wore when I was an infant in addition to a silver punch bowl with ladle and 10 silver cups that I always loved. I hope this punch bowl will be included in my children's weddings :)

In an old folder, I have dozens of drawings and a drawing of a woman and a centaur I made in my early teens from a racy ad in Cosmo magazine when I wasn't supposed to read those magazines. Oh, well :) We got a hold of them, anyway. I still have a few school notebooks and black and white composition books from high school as well as an autograph book from middle school. Yearbooks galore. The notebooks and composition books are full of drawings, poems, small snippets of writing, and tons of quotes I collected over the years, thanks to my high school English teacher, Mrs. Diaz.

I have jewelry given to me by old boyfriends, an ex-husband and some remnants of shenanigans I pulled in middle school. I found love notes exchanged during class, a Turkish puzzle ring that I stole on a dare from the Monostiraki Flea Market in Athens, Greece when I was 13 years old and a yearbook entry written by my BFF at the time who made mention of other shenanigans that only she and I know about! I didn't say they were all proud moments, did I? A ticket stub from the ferry from Athens to Aegina and hair tied up in a faded ribbon from a haircut long ago. I found a car emblem that a boy I liked stole from a Mercedes Benz car, trying to impress me and a dried flower in a book of poetry from my second boyfriend who died at 17 in a motorcycle accident. 

Goodness me. The history of a family, my family. The history of a life well-lived. Every item I picked up had a history, memory and stories attached. It's no wonder I write historical fiction and love vintage and antiques, is it? And, it should be quite obvious to you, dear reader, that I did no writing today. I did a whole helluva lot of research, though!

Happy weekend to you!

Peace and love,
Ellie

European Update & Cutting Characters from My Novel

My friend K and I are back at her home in Wien (Vienna) for the weekend before my flight back to the US on Monday after spending a few days in Hungary on our way to and from Romania. I can't remember when I've enjoyed a trip more!

We stayed in Gyor, another Hungarian city I was unfamiliar with and would visit again. What a lovely little jewel of a city! K and I didn't have time to take a proper tour, but walking through the town square and down little streets is usually all I need to get a good sense of a town, village or city. We sat in the town square sipping Radler beers, eating amazing goulash soup with crisp frites and people watching while the sun set behind the main church on the square. Amazing.

K and I had both been to Budapest, Sopron and the Lake Balaton region, so we headed home early to have more time in Vienna. I still wanted to visit the house my ex-husband, children and I lived in 25 years ago. I also have several churches and the Belvedere Museum I would love to go through and enjoy before my departure on Monday morning.

                                                          . . . .

So, yesterday was May 1, also called May Day in Europe and Labour Day in England. K and I decided to head back to my old stomping ground of the 19th district in Vienna. We bought two gorgeous lilac bouquets along the way and found my old street address on her map. Nothing looked familiar as we approached my old street, but when we turned the corner and looked up the steep, cobblestone street, I remembered...memories of pushing the English pram that held my three year old and one year old came back to me. Some things you never forget. My body remembered the strain and I remembered how difficult it was for me, a young mother with no German language, living in Vienna at the time. Vienna was our first overseas posting as a young married couple and the first time I lived in Europe as an adult, not an Army dependent. My children are now 28 and 24 years old and I am happy to have photographs to share with them.

As I write this blog post, my long-time friend is still in hospice in Northern Virginia. Her daughter and family have decided to take her off antibiotics that aren't helping with a severe infection that is coursing through her body and the last thing I heard was that the family had also decided to take her off the feeding tube...all very emotionally charged and strained. I don't know if everyone in the family is in agreement with this decision. I will only support their decision and my very private opinion will remain that...private. I've asked the necessary questions (to me) and I'm leaving that to the family and God.

I also received a very kind note from the agent who had the exclusive read on my manuscript, A Decent Woman. His recommendation to take out the chapters of Serafina, the second most important protagonist in my novel, is spot on. I've often thought that my two female protagonists were vying for first place. Years ago, I wondered if the story would be better served by focusing solely on Ana and have Serafina be a minor character. I will do just that. I highly concur with him. It is Ana's story to tell. The narrative momentum must remain strong.

I've decided to save the original manuscript and make a copy where I remove Serafina's chapters and rewrite, rewrite, rewrite. Last night, I emailed the agent to ask whether he would accept a second look at my manuscript once I make the necessary changes and beef up Ana's story. He said yes last night. I was thrilled.

This morning, I have renewed faith and again, have hope that I'm on the right track with this book and this agent. He has seen something in my story worth pursuing...or he's been super polite. Regardless, I am highly encouraged by the agent's quick responses to my emails this week and his "yes" in answer to my question about resubmitting.

Early next week when I depart Vienna and arrive in the US, I begin the rewrites after I am reunited with my precious children and visit the hospice on my way home to my furry babies in WV. 

My lifelong friend's battle with life is precarious at this time and I am again reminded of how precious life is. This trip has reminded me of how beautiful life and the world is. I'm very thankful to my friend K and her family for the kind and gracious invitation to spend three weeks with them. She gave me a beautiful gift.

Peace and love,

Ellie

The Nest

I don't know when the first day of spring is this year, so I'm pretending it's today. The skies are blue, the sun is shining and it's a beautiful, albeit chilly day. 

On our walk this morning, Ozzy and I came across a bird's nest in a tree that we've probably passed every day. Either I never noticed the nest or it's being prepared. I raised up on my tip toes to peek inside and it was empty. The nest sits on a branch of a young tree in our common area where people walk their dogs and of course, there are those who don't pick up after their dogs. It's annoying because I have to walk gingerly, looking down or I'm liable to step in a hot mess that usually isn't easy to remove from my shoes or boots which has, of course, happened.

I'm surprised the birds have built a nest in this spot because it's heavily traveled and the little tree is barely seven feet high. Last summer, I heard chirping and found a baby bird lying on the ground, its eyes barely open. I always walk with my eyes to the ground for poop purposes which is a good thing because I might have stepped on the baby. The birdling was weak, wet and not happy about his situation. He kept opening his mouth for food and my immediate impulse was to pick up the birdling and place it in the nest I'd discovered on a low branch of the tree closest to the baby. But I didn't touch the baby for fear that I'd do something wrong. I remembered someone telling me that if a human touches a baby bird, its mother might reject it and I didn't know if that was an old myth, so I went home to search the Internet to see what I should do. As I walked home, I had a real fear that the many feral cats in my neighborhood would snatch the baby before I got back. I was a nervous wreck!

What I learned was that I had to fill a clean, plastic container with shredded paper and nail it to the tree, as close to the nest as I could and using gloves, pick up the baby and place it in the makeshift nest. I left Ozzy in the house and ran back to the common area with the materials to save this baby -- I was on a mission! Thank goodness the baby was still there. I looked around for the mother, but I didn't see any birds. I could hear one though, off in the distance as I nailed the container to the tree.

The instant I picked up the baby, a bird came out of nowhere and swooped down, aiming for my head! I ducked and honest to God, that bird continued her 'attack' until I moved away from the tree and crossed the street. Then, the bird sat on a power line and we watched each other. How stupid of me to think that the bird would be thankful that I'd rescued the baby! I laughed at my naivete and told the bird that I would have done the same thing if anyone had touched my babies.

The next day, Ozzy and I went out for our walk and the nest was empty. I listened and checked the surrounding area and nothing. I hoped the bird had taken the baby to a safer location, but I also wondered if a cat had indeed killed the birdling. I'd never know. I'd done my part and realized that nature would do as nature does. I also laughed because if it weren't for the poop left behind by irresponsible dog owners , I might not have been looking down that day :) C'est la vie.

Happy weekend to you!

Peace and love,

Ellie

That's Life - Asi Es La Vida

You see this Spanish-style house with the light blue shutters? I used to own it. The house sits between two vineyards in a small French village. It was sold after my divorce when I'd moved back to the US. I loved that house. We have many happy memories of that time in our lives.

There's a house in Puerto Rico with a tiled roof, very similar to this house. My grandparents used to own it. Neither house belong to me or my family any longer. Both houses were sold because life is life and it goes on whether we approve or like it one bit.

My maternal grandparents owned the house in Puerto Rico where I lived when I was a week old. That house was a constant in my life until my mother passed away in 1992 and my grandmother decided it was too much house for her after my grandfather passed away. I think she was running away from memories and the loss of two daughters, as well. I didn't blame her. You can't walk through the house without memories rushing in.

Family Christmas parties and parrandas, summer vacations from May to late August when my mom, sister and I would visit, and the year we lived with my grandparents, waiting for my father to return from Vietnam. The toilet where the iguana came out of and the chaos that ensued, graduation from high school when we lived in Puerto Rico for two years and returning to the island with my daughter when I was pregnant with my son. Another summer when my then-husband, my kids and I vacationed in PR when we lived overseas. So many memories. This house was my home - my refuge, my solace and my love.

So you see, this house isn't just a house to me. It is so much more than that. I'd wanted to buy my grandparent's house. While my then-husband and I considered the purchase, a family member bought it. I was bummed, but very glad that the house where I spent many happy times members would remain in the family. Her in-laws immediately moved in and lived there until she sold the house. I didn't know a thing about the sale until I visited Puerto Rico last December with my friend. I was dumb-struck and heartbroken when I'd found out it had been sold.

I parked the rental car across the street and immediately, I found it hard to speak. The white house was now painted a charcoal gray, not appropriate for a tropical climate. As soon as my friend D and I exited the car, I felt greeted by my departed grandparents, my mother, aunts and uncles and a cousin who died when he was 18. Memories of family photos taken in the front garden when I was little rushed in. I showed D the place where I cut the salamander's tail off to see if the myth was true about the tail remaining 'alive' afterward. The spot along the wrought-iron fence where a boy named Richard said he loved me just before my high school graduation and the enclosed porch, malquesina, where my daughter proudly showed her grandmother and great-grandmother her dancing skills while my son chased lizards in the back patio, under the huge mango tree.

I had tears in my eyes as the new owner's daughter gave me a tour of my grandparent's house. The floor tiles were the same, the remodeled bathroom was still yellow, and the kitchen where my grandmother lovingly prepared food hadn't changed. It will always be my family's house to me. My bedroom was non-recognizable, however. I got ready for my Junior and Senior Proms in that room, I cried there when my boyfriend died in a motorcycle accident, and when the room used to be my grandparent's room. There are stories of me as a toddler, ripping my grandfather's newspaper in shreds before he came home from the bank at noontime and of me as a teenager having a hissy fit that my grandmother was holding me hostage when my parents flew back to the US on business. She had a ring of keys to prove that she was in charge, much like a prison marm :)

I cried for my mother, my grandparents and the past as the tour came to an end. I had mixed emotions, I didn't know what to do with. I wanted to tell the new owner that she shouldn't have bought the house and at the same time, I was thankful that she'd been home and offered us a tour. I felt closer to my mother and my grandparents; there were around me, but I also felt like an interloper. I missed my mother so much at that moment and shook my head to compose myself as we headed to the cemented patio where a lush tropical garden had been.

"The mango tree is gone," I said to the new owner. She looked at me for a moment and said, "I didn't know you ever lived in this house."

Oh yes, I did. And, then some.

Some days, we're more nostalgic than others. Maybe it's all the cold meds I'm taking?

Peace and love,
E

Your Last Day on the Planet

I took this photograph on a chilly morning in 2009 of the Potomac River at Great Falls on the Virginia side. To get this fantastic shot of the falls, I had to sneak over the fence and stand on a rock. It was worth the risk. The large rock was flat and dry, so I was safe and my girlfriend behind me had a death grip on the belt loops of my jeans!

My friend N kept telling me I was nuts for trying that stunt and after taking a dozen shots, she let go of one belt loop and handed me her camera, saying "Take one for me!" So, I took one for the team :)

If you're looking for majesty and incredible views, visit Great Falls. If you're feeling too big for your britches, the Falls will leave you breathless and amazed. You will feel like a droplet of water, very small compared to the grandeur in front of you. The river and the falls are a treat for the senses, all of them.

Our favorite things to do was to have breakfast at Great Falls the minute the park opened. We'd pack a breakfast of hot coffee, boiled eggs, cheese and a baguette which we enjoyed sitting on a rock overlooking the Falls. My friend would read the Koran and I'd read pages from my daily devotional. To say that the views and sounds of that spot reach your emotional, mental, spiritual and physical places is pure truth.

A favorite photograph of my friend N is one I took of her in our spot reading the Koran. It's not one I will share with you. The memories and that photograph are precious to me because this friend, my best friend of 37 years, had a major stroke eight months ago. At this time, she doesn't speak nor can she walk. We communicate with our eyes and by touch. I tell her stories and remind her of the many road trips and trips we took together over the years. N doesn't respond or reply, but I know she remembers. Her eyes tell me that she's present and listening.

I visited N in the nursing home during my last visit to Virginia. My heart warms and breaks all over again when I see her. After sharing a beautiful weekend with my children and my friend N's only daughter and two grandchildren who miss her so much, I had ten rejection emails in my In Box from agents I'd queried before I left. "C'est la vie", I said to myself as N came to mind. This morning, I had three more rejections. I shrugged and immediately filed them away in a file I've titled "N".  What can you do? It's all in a writer's day and I accept it.

I'm alive, healthy and happy, thank God and so are my children. I've spent years writing and editing my novel, A Decent Woman and I've already begun writing my second book, Finding Grace. It's all about the writing and the writing life to me. I'll keep querying agents and filing those rejections because this isn't life and death to me. I love writing books and will continue to write and send out queries. I'll see my book published one way or another...for N.

Putting things back into perspective back in West Virginia. This morning I ponder the hundreds of thousands of wonderful books out there that will never be in print. I think of writers who have just given up and I'm not going to be one of them. I tell myself to hang in there and I'm telling you, too. Keep writing as if today were your last day on this planet.

Peace and love,
Ellie

A Little Humility Never Hurt Anyone

I took this photograph of my patio last week and after enjoying my windows open yesterday, I'm kinda bummed that we're back to snow today. Sigh. I'm over winter.

This is my favorite hang out spot with friends, wine glass in hand and a table of hors d'oeuvres to share. We enjoy lovely shade in spring and summer when the grape vines are full of leaves and in late summer marked with thousands of Concord grapes hanging in lovely bunches. I eat grapes morning, noon and night in summer and someone needs to convince my Pug Ozzy that grapes are toxic for dogs because he scarfs down the grapes that fall all summer long. I sweep and collect fallen grapes every morning, but he finds them. So far, I've not seen the effects of this grape toxicity in Ozzy - it's a losing battle with him, he's gonna eats grapes.

The honeysuckle on the side fence and the grapes attract lots of bees in late summer, but they don't bother me...much. I'm of the jump up from my chair and run variety when bees come too close. I've never understood how a person could sit still while a bee or wasp buzzes around them! I just can't handle bees, so I run. I was stung twice in my life by a couple of wasps and I don't want a repeat of that experience, thank you very much.


I must admit that my patio looks beautiful in winter, too. I wouldn't have photographed it if I hadn't seen something beautiful in the scene. But now, I'm over it!  I'm over winter. I'm ready for new growth, the variations of green that pop up on my gardening radar and the first plants of spring that show up when I least expect to see them. My elderly neighbor loves Farmer's Almanac and loves to tell me what's coming up with everything and what should already be here, as he says. He'll tell me when the next full moon and lunar eclipses will happen. When planting season comes around, my friend knows which vegetable to plant, when and next to what. My neighbor seems to know the stars and on summer evenings when we're sitting under the grape arbor, he'll say, "Come here, look at that," as he points to the heavens and we stand there, heads back, mouths wide open.  He's a wealth of natural information, I'd think and smile at how lucky I am to have him as a friend and neighbor.

When I met my 75 year old neighbor, I thought how cool it was that he knew all that stuff. I bought a Farmer's Almanac so that I could keep up with him. I remember one day when I surprised him with a nugget of information that I'd gleaned from the Almanac. He smiled at me and was quiet. How odd, I thought. Isn't he happy that now we have more things to talk about? We both love nature, gardening, flower and plants. Isn't he excited to have an eager student?

Then, it hit me and I donated the Farmer's Almanac to the local library. I'd taken away what had given my friend joy - informing me about the natural world he knows. My friend doesn't write, paint or take photographs. He was a much-loved dish washer at the Bob Evans in town before he retired. We'd found common ground in our love of gardening and that was what he wanted to share with me. His garden is beautiful and his knowledge is extensive. My neighbor helped me dig in my hydrangeas, perennials and annuals last spring and he takes great pride in our gardens :)

What a fool I'd been.  A well-meaning, eager student, but also a young fool (young to him) who'd forgotten about the wisdom gleaned through another's experiences in a long life. So, now I keep my mouth shut. I learn by listening and following his lead. I'm not one to steal anyone's thunder and I've always allowed my kids to learn by doing (well, most of the time!) and so, I'm looking forward to spring and digging up the side garden with my neighbor. I'm one lucky lady.

Still living, loving and learning in West Virginia.

Peace and love,
Ellie

The Research and the Writing

In my high school years, I received three medals which I was quite proud of - a First Place medal for English (writing), another First Place for Ancient History and the other medal was an Honorable Mention for chemistry which I swear must have been a mistake. That medal surely was meant for someone else. I just don't know how that one  happened, but I still have those medals in a box somewhere.

They were badges of honor for a kid who was enthusiastic about learning, but also had her head in the clouds and her nose in a book (not textbooks). One of my teachers wrote this in one of my high school yearbooks, "Eleanor has the attention span of a butterfly on a flower, but she can tell you all about that flower and its relationship with the butterfly."  He had me pegged at sixteen.

As many first-time novelists might admit and I will, I wrote my novel, A Decent Woman, without a plan. Sure, I had an outline and knew who my main characters were, but when I began to tell the story, I just wrote. I allowed my characters to tell their stories without a story board nor a stack of how-to writing books because I didn't know those books existed. I was in awe of writers and never thought that they didn't know what they were doing at one time nor that they'd been beginners like me. I thought they were born for greatness and were doing what came naturally. God had blessed them, I didn't question a thing.

Naively and naturally, I gravitated toward writing and doing research as questions and the need arose in my story. That seemed to work for me. I'd decided that I would write a chapter or two and then, do the necessary research to flesh out the scene, the descriptions and the characters. Naturally, writing a novel about life in Puerto Rico in the 1900's meant I had lots of questions and blanks to fill, mixed in with my grandmother's stories of how she cooked, cleaned and washed clothes when she was young with the limited resources available to her.

My then-husband, kids and I lived in Belgium when I began my historical novel, A Decent Woman and our library was small. I'd browse the titles and nothing jumped out at me. Honestly? I don't think I even knew what I was looking for, so the Internet became my research tool. Hurricanes - off to the Internet! I learned all I needed to know about the hurricanes, tropical storms and tropical depressions that passed near the island  and the direct hits to the island in the early 1900's. I learned about tropical waves that begin off the coast of Africa and the conditions for the perfect storm. I could easily spend hours doing research on the Web and I did. Soon however, I realized that I needed to keep writing and just research on a need-to-know basis. I had to remain focused and not be that butterfly on the flower! That worked very well for me, so I kept writing.

Questions about indigenous plants and flowers, burial practices in the early 1900s, slavery in Puerto Rico, and the lives of women on the island came flooding in at times. More research to be done!

As my story progressed, I added new characters that came with their own baggage, complications and goals that at times, didn't mesh with my heroine's goals, dreams and ideas. I learned to let go and let my characters loose just to see what would happen. The things my characters got into or were involved in boggled the mind, but I kept writing. I'd often say that my characters were whispering in my ear and looking over my shoulders at every turn. In those early days, I wasn't worried about finding an agent, I didn't worry about what other writers were writing and I certainly didn't worry about selling books. I had a story to tell and I figured that if I loved my story this much, certainly others would find it interesting. No one had read my novel-length manuscript yet. I kept it to myself.

While writing, I'd listen to CDs of period Puerto Rican music, to tangos my grandmother loved, I devoured archives of old photographs taken on the island for details on period dress, architecture and no detail, no matter how minute, escaped me. I interviewed older family members and friends born in Puerto Rico back in the day and asked them question after question. I even sent questionnaires to every Puerto Rican woman I knew about daily life and growing up on the island. Not only was I doing research for my book, I was also learning more about the place of my birth and that of my grandmother and mother. Writing this book has been a wonderful experience for me. The process has been healing, illuminating and yes, revealing.

I brought out my novel several times during the next five years while I got divorced, went back to school and worked long hours. The timing was right to keep the manuscript out in 2011. Timing is everything in life. I then began to read books on writing, plotting, character development, dialogue, story boards, advice, tips and writing the breakout novel. I was ready for those books and didn't mind going back with edits and rewrites. I found a great editor and with her fantastic ideas, suggestions and questions, I continued to edit and rewrite passages, scenes and chapters.

I still edit my novel (when do you know you're done?) with Puerto Rican music playing softly in the background and am surrounded by family photos, many of my grandmother and my mother, taken on the island and in the US. All their beautiful smiling faces encourage me, nod in agreement, laugh with me, and give me that look that says to me, "Keep going, you're getting closer."

Peace and love,

Ellie

P.S. I took the above photo on my most recent visit to Puerto Rico last December in beautiful Rincon.

To Peace, Love, Writing and Flushing Toilets

This morning, I watched two Youtube videos - How To Correctly Use a Plunger and How to Unclog Your Toilet.  Yes, the life of a full time writer is glamorous and awesome! I could lie and tell you that I wore pearls and heels to unclog that pesky toilet because it was that easy, but I didn't and it wasn't.  I wore polka-dot sweat pants, my son's wrestling T-shirt from Brussels, socks and determination. The guys on the two videos wore socks and no shoes, so maybe that was the key. I was determined to fix that toilet. How hard could it be?

Two years ago, I decided to write full time and I knew it would be a challenge, but I was up for it. I was tired of the DC area traffic, the ridiculously high rent I was paying, and working for peanuts as a Spanish language Family Support Worker with 25 beautiful family clients to care for. What we pay people in the Social Services fields is a CRIME, but that's another blog. The files we kept on the first born children of immigrants of many countries were hard enough to keep updated and accurate, but I also had to make home visits once a week which meant I was always in some type of traffic. My stress levels were through the roof most days. I was pretty unhappy. I knew I would miss my clients and their beautiful children who I loved, but I also knew that I was too old to run around and the stress of maintaining 25 to 27 files was making me crazy and grouchy. I moved.

My move to Wild and Wonderful West Virginia proved to be a wild and wonderful choice. I was firm in my decision to move and wasn't swayed by family and friends who thought I'd gone off the deep end.  I don't regret my decision one bit and now, I write and read every day and paint when the spirit moves me. I've grown in West Virginia and I've gotten tougher. I continue to learn to navigate life as a single woman, a first-time, single-income home owner and boy, do I learn lots about home repairs as I go along.

As for my only toilet, it still ain't working.  I reattached the chain to the doohicky and watched the water go down as I lifted the chain. Nothing.  The bulb thingie that floats in the tank is doing what it's supposed to do and the rubber hoozit that lifts up to empty the water is doing its job and then, closes. Around and around we go and all that's happening is that the toilet paper is shredded and my kitten Pierre is getting a real kick out of watching the whirlpool in the strange white throne.

It was time to employ the plunger. I'd purchased two types of plungers when I bought this old house - the old fashioned kind and a new fangled model with a round thingamajig that comes out of the original doohicky. As I watched the video again (because the first time I used the old version of the plunger, nothing happened) I realized that it's all in the wrist.  Ah hah! I have to hold it just so and push down repeatedly on the wooden handle, splashing water onto my socks until...it flushes!

Now, I do wish I could sit down to write this whole afternoon and not unclog a toilet, but some things just can't wait and others must wait. I need this toilet to work. It's my only toilet and I don't want to pay a plumber for something I can maybe do myself. So, here we are. I love my writing life.  It's far from perfect and not as idyllic as some of my friends think it is, but I will admit it's pretty damn good most days, though...especially when my toilet works :)

It's all about perspective, I suppose. Do I sometimes wish I had a handy man around or a landlord I could call, you bet I do! But, I wouldn't trade my life and writing full time for nothing. Off I go, plunger in hand.  Wish me luck!

To peace, love and flushing toilets!

Ellie

Going With the Holiday Flow

Hi all!

Christmas Day is eight days away and I'm finding it difficult to focus on my novel this week.  Who am I kidding?  I found it difficult to edit last week, as well.  A couple of days of good work a week and other days of...distractions.  That equals two and a half weeks of distractions.  Is this happening to you?  Maybe I should have taken December off, thereby reducing the guilts!

Okay, I did have a week vacation with my friends and family in Puerto Rico which I enjoyed immensely.  I rested the week following my vacation and got my house in order.  I even found time to paint my front door glossy black (after pinning dozens of black doors on Pinterest this fall) and I decorated the outside of my house for the Holidays.  I visited with a sick friend, had coffee with two neighbors and caught up with girlfriends and family by email and telephone.  Yesterday, I gave my neighbor and her family a little tree because I know they are hurting this year and last night, I had dinner with a new friend - our second date.  Distractions?  Yes!

My writing rhythm is shot.  I was doing so well at the beginning of the month and had made great headway with my novel and then, the Holiday pressures were on.  I suppose I put those pressures on myself, but they're valid distractions this time of year.  I have ecards to put together, gifts to buy, a train ticket to Virginia to purchase, and friends I'd love to get together with.  Not to mention, my bedroom looks like a hurricane passed through.

I have kept up with my blog, however.  Bite-size pieces of writing.  I suppose the fact that I'm writing is a good thing.  My mind is jumping around and my heart is already in Northern Virginia with my kids and family.  I can't wait to seem them all!

How do people write, publish and market books while working full-time, part-time and raise kids, I wonder?  Am I that disorganized?  I don't work outside the home, I should be able to do all this with my eyes closed, right?  Priorities, I know.  I know the drill, but there's something major to be said about being present.  I don't know how many Holidays I'll have with both my kids and family; none of us do.

So, I've decided to enjoy my family and friends this Holiday season and when I return, I'm turning off the phone, not answering emails and I won't put the TV on!  That's it.  I'm not wasting time mind you, I'm simply going with the Holiday flow and choose not to feel guilty about it.

Guilt, worry, and anxiety are wasted emotions.  I choose to put all my energy into enjoying my family and friends this Holiday season.  For me, that is what is important - being present and enjoying the gifts that my family and friends are.  True blessings.

Peace, blessings, and love to you.
Ellie

One Way to Overcome Writer's Block

Hi all,

Yesterday I found out that my local library has a fax machine for public use.  I don't mean that you can stand there and fax any ol' thing you want.  First, you have to get through the tall, wiry, and might I add, stern-looking woman who will fax documents for you at one dollar per page. I don't know if this is common practice in libraries, but as a person who hasn't figured out how to install her printer at home which has fax/scanning and printing capabilities, this was awesome news.  Please don't tell my local library if it's not 'normal', I love it!

After I faxed my documents (so easy!), I trudged upstairs to the computer room  and decided to see what it would feel like to enter a strange room, write a new blog on a strange computer (to me) among 20 strangers. 

As I waited to get assigned a computer, I scanned the room.  Much like I do in a crowded restaurant while I wait for the host/hostess to seat me. I want a nice table and not in the middle of the room, thank you very much. The computer room was packed with people of all ages.  The only free computers were right smack in the middle of the middle aisle of three aisles. Damn!  People on all sides.  I don't like sitting in the middle of any room. I've always liked my back against the walls, so that I can view YOU :)

NOTE: I've worked in residential treatment centers for kids...you don't turn your back, ever. I learned that quick and it has stuck with me.


I didn't have to stay in the computer room.  I have a perfectly lovely red laptop at home. I could have left any time after faxing my documents. But something pulled me upstairs. I'm curious, intuitive and I happen to reading "The Alchemist" for the third time.  (My daughter gave me her Kindle and the book happens to be on her list, so I started at 4:30 am when I couldn't sleep.)  Yes, 4:30 am.  Well, I love a good challenge and I wondered if I would meet anyone interesting in the computer room.  Would I meet someone with a message for me about my novel?  Would I meet the Alchemist? The King? The Englishman? A talking camel?  Who knows, but I'm open to new experiences.

I was up for the challenge, but writing my new blog in this computer room was posing an internal challenge for me. I could do it and I would!  I would accept whatever computer was offered to me and not worry that someone was looking at my screen.  That was it!  I was feeling 'naked' and spied upon and I hadn't even sat down.

I pushed through it, looked to my left and right several times (just because) and looked behind me because the guy was having a conversation with his rental office. Highly annoying.  Someone else had their music blaring and I could hear the rap music through his head phones.  Very annoying.

I pushed on!  I checked Facebook, checked my two email accounts and replied so some emails and I wrote this blog :) There is ALWAYS a lesson and a lesson learned in every situation and experience that we have. I usually learn something new from a brief conversation with a neighbor or someone in line at the grocery store.  I truly believe that. You have to be open to people, places and things.  I usually am.

What did I learn this morning during my writing experience at my local library?

Writing at home is freakin' awesome :) I can't wait to walk home and fire that baby up and write to my heart's content.  Make your writing experience crappy, challenging or just interesting enough and I guarantee you that your computer will look awesome to you when you get home.

Peace out,
Ellie

But, I Digress...

Hi all,

We had snow flurries this morning!  I woke up, checked my phone for the time (no one wears watches anymore) and at 8:38, we had wet snow and snow flurries.  I was as excited as a kid, teen or adult who is hoping to get out of school or work or the commute to work.  And, I work from home :)  Hell, as an at-home Mom, I was excited for my kids to stay home so we could play! They had my ex-husband's genes in that respect, however...they never wanted to miss a day of school.  But, I digress...

Then, it was all over.  The snow flurries landed on wet sidewalks and it was all over, really before it even began.  Bummer.  I really wanted to see snow on the ground this morning.  I wanted to put on my old gray robe, make a pot of vanilla chai tea (chai means tea, doesn't it?) and write to my heart's content, watching the snow fall from the dining room window.

I've always wanted to live in a Currier & Ives painting. I want to live in a thatched roof cottage by a lazy river that has a brick bridge going that leads to my children's homes because they live a stone's throw from my house.  But, I digress...

Of course, I put on my old gray robe, made a pot of vanilla chai and powered up the laptop.  I edited my novel yesterday from 9 in the morning to nearly 10 at night with a few breaks. I was on a roll! Why?  Because I forgot to pay my cable bill that includes the Internet :)  No distractions and it worked like a charm.  I made huge strides on my novel and I'm so, so pleased with the first ten chapters.  But, I digress...wait.  What is this blog about any way?  Writing, snow, or kids?

So, I powered up the laptop this morning, shoo'd the cat away from my vanilla chai (which must be a drug as powerful as catnip for my Maine Coon, Pierre) and took Ozzy my Pug out for a quick walk.  On our walk, I noticed that Main Street has put on their Holiday accessories which are beautiful.  I just LOVE walking through small towns with big Christmas and holiday decorations like the town I live in.  It's charming this time of year, but I digress...

You know what? I don't have a damn clue what this blog is about.  I started losing the thread almost immediately and I don't think I even had a thread!  I just started writing.  That's the way it happens with me.  I just start to write and I end up with a short story, five poems (I canNOT write just poem) or a blog.  I write dialogue, scenes and character descriptions.  I rewrite paragraphs, whole chapters, beginnings and endings.  I never get bored.

I don't really know what today is all about, but I DO know that I have to write like I have to breathe.  I have to write and you should, too.

So back to my novel :)  Happy writing.

Peace and love,
Ellie

The Pumpkin Pie Debacle

Hi all,

I hope you had a super Thanksgiving with your loved ones.  I had a wonderful weekend with my family.  A busy, fun, and wonderful weekend full of laughter, joking around, hanging around, and eating way too much.

Okay, I'm not going to lie...since Friday, I've enjoyed four smallish plates of Thanksgiving leftovers and one delicious sandwich of turkey, dressing and gravy. I haven't, however, had enough slices of pumpkin pie with Redi Whip.

I could have baked a pumpkin pie, but I was traveling to my kids by train and my kids ran out time.  My sister swore she would have pumpkin pie for our dinner and I believed her, but I wanted just one more pie.  Just one more.  I love pumpkin pie.

As soon as I arrived in Northern Virginia, my daughter, son and I drove to Safeway to buy an extra pumpkin pie.  No big deal, right?  Well, normally not a big deal, but it was Thanksgiving Day.  I grabbed the pies, super excited and loving Safeway for the extra pies.  I paid for the pies, got into my daughter's car with a huge smile.  "A real coup!  I found two pumpkin pies!"

To which my son jokes (and probably jinxes), "Watch her have bought sweet potato pies!"  We all laughed and then, I checked the bags.  My heart sank.  Are you kidding me?  Two sweet potato pies and no pumpkin.  I had picked up two sweet potato pies at the supermarket by mistake.  Damn, was I mad.  The sign behind the stack of pies was clearly marked and clearly read, "pumpkin pies" but, I failed to read the labels slapped on the boxes which held the 'wrong' pies.  These were clearly sweet potato pies.

I immediately opened the car door, yelling, "I'll be right back!  I'll just exchange them, there was a huge stack of pumpkin pies!"  My daughter grabbed the belt loops of my jeans, holding me in.  "You're not going back inside, we're late, Mom!"

"You don't understand, Sweetie." I said, laughing as I unhooked her fingers from my jeans, "I MUST have pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving!  I don't eat pumpkin pie but twice a year and sweet potato pie will not do!"

On and on my kids kept telling me things like, "Mom, pumpkin is exactly like sweet potato pie", "Let it go!" and, "Let's go!" When my kids realized that I wasn't leaving the Safeway supermarket, they gave in.  Exasperated, my son got out of the car, vowing to come back with a pumpkin pie.  My hero!

Ten minutes later, he came to the car carrying a Safeway bag.  "Well?  Do we have lift off?  Did you find a pumpkin pie?"

"Um.  Safeway is out of pumpkin pies.  All they have left are sugar-free pumpkin pies."  

"What?  No!  It won't be Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie."  I'm told I actually pouted like a four year old.

"Mom, it's okay!  Let's just go, we're late."

I moaned and groaned, "Should have made a pie."  After a while, it changed to,"You're right, we are late."  After all, I am an adult :)

Thank goodness, my sister had a pumpkin pie for us.  Yay!  I had my slice and everyone wanted slices of sweet potato pie (which surprised me) and I got to take the remaining pie to my daughter's house (where I was staying).  I snuck a midnight slice of pumpkin pie with Redi Whip, happy as a kid.

My family and I had a great Holiday dinner. I was blessed to enjoy two wonderful days with my children.  I loved our time together and I went home with no leftovers and no more pie.  Good.  I was beginning to forget about leftovers and pumpkin pie when my girlfriend invited me to share her Holiday leftovers tonight!  I'm SO there, I told her!  I have no will power, damn!  She made a homemade pumpkin pie to die for :)

I swear, no more Holiday food.  Enough is enough.  Zumba is calling me. Vamos a bailar! Vamos a rebajar de peso!  Si!

Peace and love,
Ellie

On Being Grateful and Gracious

Hi all,

This will be my last blog before Thanksgiving as tomorrow morning, I'll be on a train headed to Northern Virginia.  I'm excited to see my children and cook our side dishes together.  I'm also excited to share our Thanksgiving meal with my sister and her children in Maryland.  

I wish you a beautiful Thanksgiving with your loved ones and safe travels if you'll be on the road!

I love traveling by train.  Not only do I love the beautiful West Virginia and Virginia countryside, it's a great way to people watch.  I'm not a stalker, believe me!  I just enjoy observing and listening to people, wondering what their story is as I sit quietly, enjoying the views.  More than once, I've built characters on people I've watched and listened to.  I watch their body language, how they interact with others and their facial expressions as they converse. People are fascinating to me :)

I'll be cooking side dishes with my son and my daughter in her home while watching the Thanksgiving Day parade in NYC and in the afternoon, we drive to Maryland to share Thanksgiving dinner with my youngest sister and her kids.  We always have a great time when we get together and this Holiday should be no different.  We laugh and joke while we get dinner and the table ready, we take photos of each other and the kids as a group, we start dinner off with a prayer and I always ask my family to say what they're thankful for.

That Thanksgiving tradition might be getting old for our kids who range in age from 27 to 21, (maybe it's already old for them!) but I never tire of it.  To me, it's important to give thanks and NOT only on this day.  I believe that the root of happiness and joy is in the giving to others and not in the receiving.  This year, I got a surprise that changed my mind a bit.

My family is blessed and we know we are.  We've all had difficulties, faced challenges and found ourselves in the deep valleys before.  Most of us have come out of those valleys into the sunshine.  I hope you have, too.  When I've found myself in the dark, I only have to look around me and listen - there's always someone who needs help, my help.

In the past, it was me who was the helper whenever I could.  This year, I received many blessings and realized that for once, I was the person other's thought needed help.  That came as a big surprise to me as a self-sufficient, stubborn, single Mom!  I like to think that I've got all my ducks in a row and my shit sorted out :) I just didn't expect it and it was beautiful!

This year I received four invitations from beautiful new friends in my new town to share Thanksgiving dinner with their families because they wanted to make sure I wasn't alone.  They know that I live two hours from my kids and family.  Another friend brought me a little artificial Christmas tree with lights because he knows that I'll spend Christmas with my kids and family in Virginia this year and he figured that I'd probably not put up a tree this year.  Beautiful!

Those invitations and gifts, were precious gifts to me.  Gifts that warmed my heart and yes, made me cry. I cry a lot these days which I attribute to menopause :)  Happy tears, mind you.  My friends wanted to make sure that I was taken care of and that's a beautiful thing. I was so thankful and grateful.

I learned a valuable lesson this week.  Life is a give and take and it's as important to allow others to help us as it is to help others.  It's good Karma for everyone involved :)

Happy Thanksgiving to you.

Peace and love,

Ellie 

I Laughed 'Til I Cried

Hi all,

I don't know much about the human brain nor how it works, but I believe that what we experience and think about in our waking life manifests itself in our dreams.

Have you ever woken up from a dream crying and/or laughing ?  I've experienced both and it happened again this morning.

My dream early this morning (isn't that when REM happens?) involved an old fishing buddy/friend.  In the dream, we were on a fishing trip and he was trying to get all romantic with me and I playfully pushed him away.  He had wanted to slow dance and when we started dancing, we fell through the wood floor and landed in a mud pit!  I laughed in my dream and when I woke up, I was laughing so hard, I had tears in my eyes!  I lay there laughing for about five minutes until my sides hurt. Laughter is the best medicine for what ails us :)

Here's why I had that dream:

Late last night, the very friend in my dream (who I haven't heard from in six months) sent me a photo via text of him proudly holding up a huge trout that didn't look too happy.  We've been friends for years and I secretly think he has a crush on me, but I would never  jeopardize our friendship (and he has a girlfriend) so, I've jokingly pushed away his friendly advances.

and,

After I received my friend's text, I watched a comedy with Meryl Streep, Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin (just before bed) entitled, "It's Complicated".  It was complicated!  Divorced ten years, Streep and Baldwin start an affair while he's married to someone else. See? It was all connected and led to my dream!

Our brains are so complicated that it boggles the mind. My dream was a composite of things I'd experienced and thought about before bed.  The falling through the wood floor part stumps me though.  I'd watched the newest episode of "Walking Dead" before the comedy and I don't think anyone fell through the floor (although a dozen zombies or so bit the dust last night) and it certainly isn't a comedy!  The falling through the floor into a mud pit did make me laugh, however.  I know what makes me laugh :)

I suppose I needed that laugh this morning after losing my manuscript edits yesterday that I'd been working on for two weeks straight.  It worked and so, onward and upward we go!

Peace and love,
Ellie