It’s raining today, after many, many wonderful bright sunny days, the weather forecaster is finally correct. Misty, this is not, it’s a true summer rain, almost heavy winter rain, the kind that we get all of November through April. A few seasons ago I wrote in despair about how the Eskimo’s had so many words for snow, and we had only a few for rain. Although apparently it is a myth that they have so many words, It seemed to me that living in a climate with this much liquid falling from the sky we should have a entire repertoire of words that could aptly describe the feeling of wet as it falls upon the earth. That was hands down, my most popular post, go figure? Seems like there are many people out there busily goggling the words for rain. Anything to avoid going out in it, I guess.
A summer rain is different then a winter rain, for one thing it is less wet, less cold, and less of a shock to the system. We are rejoicing when we get a summer rain, unless it happens to fall on the long weekend, which here in BC seems to happen a lot. We have a saying around here, if it’s raining, it must be a long weekend. So I bring you, “words for rain” summer version. Feel free to add your own in your comments. While these are words for a summer rain, I did use some of the winter rain words.
Misty, wet, damp, liquid sunshine [as if] softly falling, cloaking, precipitation, splash, soaking, soaker, gentle, shower, droplets, dewy, wet, monsoon, deluge, soggy, dripping, saturated, LOL. I could go on, and on…
Baby it’s cold outside… Baby it’s cold inside. Baby it’s cold almost everywhere right now. And it’s not even winter yet. You would think we get this kind of cold in January… and then it goes away mid February, like it should, like any good weather system would. Did anyone think to check the calendar? Maybe it is January, and we all missed something here. Christmas might be over and done with, oh no the sky is falling… and it’s made up of white flakes. Baby it’s cold outside.
So to honour the bone biting, deep chilling, freezing temperatures, frozen fingers, and frosty feet, and because I simply can’t wrap my mind around anything other then a image of a steaming mug of hot chocolate right now, here are some words for cold. Chilling Cold, Frozen Frigid, Frosty White, Winter wonderland Bitter, withering Brisk, Crisp Raw, harsh Snowy, shivery Brrrrrr… Starting to shiver yet? A long time ago I wrote a post titled “words for rain”, inspired by a long stretch of gloomy, sodden weather that we were trying to live through… weeks, and weeks of wet. It’s my most popular post of all time. Apparently there are still people out there looking for words for rain… wet, gloppy, gloomy, sodden, downpour… you know, those kind of words.
But I digress, or maybe I’m melting like a snowflake on a fingertip. So put down that snowball, sideline the shovel, wiggle on those warm woollies, sit down and add your words for cold, I know that you will come up with some frosty favourites. Freezing, frozen, crisp I’m blogging sporadically during this Christmas season… but I’m hoping to post at least twice a week, which days you might ask? Me too… hope to figure this out soon.
There are posts that sing in your heart, some loudly, some softly,… no demands, they just ask to be set free, to be published. Some come unbidden, easy to write, easy to read. Joyful words describing beautiful seasons, and the beauty of nature. We all like to read those, life is hard enough without reading tales of woe in a blog.
And then there are others, a need, demand, not as pleasant to read, but so desperately wanting to be set free so I can move forward. I’ve found that by recording a moment, a memory I no longer allow it to keep my nights, my days, and my life hostage. They are rarely shared. This one escaped, it feels so intensely personal, I didn’t want it to, but it did. You might remember my Dad went into the hospital because of ill health, during his stay there he fell and broke his hip, which extended his stay by months… and we thought that was hard. It was only the beginning of a very long, difficult and heartbreaking journey that is not finished yet. One that we as family can only offer as much support and love as possible. It’s hard for him, and for us, it takes my heart, my love, and my time to be there with my parents. I am trying to help them out in any way I can. Dementia is a nasty disease, a wicked awful mind stealing disease that sneaks up behind you and wallops you with a club, lets you stagger off to partially recover, and then does it all over again. Not nice words at all, but Dementia doesn’t deserve them. It has stolen too many of my family members… and now it’s hitting my Dad. Life maybe just life, but this… this is beyond fair. I’m angry, I’m upset, I’m worried, and most of all I am sad. This isn’t a post about sadness, and fear so much as the effort it takes to be there, smile, and encourage during a very difficult situation, we have all been there, or will deal with troubles in some way. I know that, and my heart goes out to all of you as you struggle with difficulties also. In the end we should know that we have done all we can to help, no matter what the struggles against us were. This is a post that didn’t come out quietly, it kicked, screamed, shouted, and it continues to do so. It won’t be quieted by frequent power outages, computer glitches, or my unwillingness to publish it. It wants to be heard, noticed, felt. It want’s you to realize that Dementia is a epidemic, and as much as you think it won’t happen to you, it could happen to any of us or those we love. I wish there was a happy ending, I tried to give it the best I could, the journey continues. And I will completely understand if you are end up not knowing what to say… that’s OK. This is not a poem, it’s not a rant, it’s a rendition of a heartbreaking day, one that is etched too closely on my heart. But in those painfully carved words, there is hope, and there is love.
Life, it’s just life . Fragile shell enveloping egg dropped onto hard floor, slimy splatters, cat prints lead away from the scene of the crime. It’s not his fault. Juice tipped onto morning paper, soaked, soggy orange scented old news. That’s life Power out… heat wave, stifling hot. No sleep, hot days, foggy brains. That’s life. Moving day, worry, concern, positive thoughts, cheerful, fake happy. Check for the words now tattooed on your heart. “It’s the disease, not the person.” You are a rock. You are a island. Simon and Garfunkel knew what they were talking about. That’s life. Free hour left on parking ticket handed through the rolled down window of a slow passing car. Goodness of strangers. That’s life. Thank goodness for life.
Last time walking through cloud of smokers, hacking over IV stands. Familiar face tugs at my memory, daughter of one left behind, revealed as neighbour from my now far away ocean. My old home, my old life. Keep in touch, good luck, I wish we had met again sooner. But we can’t wait to leave. We hope never to come back. That’s life Thank goodness for life. Moment of calm, breath deep, but for the smells of old, air, memories, hopes, and dreams, escaping through art deco gold painted grating on elevator wall. Smiles, good wishes fond on your heart, breaking tears into smaller drops. Heat, never ending hot, shiny sun. Pack the car, don’t forget anything, him, nervous… upset, hold back the tears. That’s life. His words accusing us of betrayal, no thanks for all he has done for us through the years, overriding our words of comfort, preparation, photos shown and forgotten, change overwhelming, he does not care. Be the rock, be the island for all of you. Clean, quiet, beautiful surroundings does not replace chaos, disregard, and dirty linens in his mind. Kindness and attentiveness of the nurses, friendliness of the residents ignored. That’s life. It’s the disease, not the person. But oh it aches, it hurts. Where are you Dad? That’s life. Go back to where you swore you would never return, forgotten items, disbelief on his face as you leave without him, take me back there… Promises made I will be back, I don’t want to go, but I will be back. Drop off at downtown pharmacy, street person asks money for popsicle… decision, change for meter, or popsicle donation. Ticket versus treat. Wish it wasn’t asked, wish I had both.
That’s life Hot, sweaty tires black on pavement, roads closed, worry, lost, found, rushing. Situation same. Keep up the hope. Homemade Ginger snaps, cold juice. They know what happens here, how much of it is life. Sugar high. Situation low. Immaculate garden gazed upon through his window, holds a flower. Despite his refusal to mellow, to bend, to look. Shines above all else, single stemmed brilliant petals perfectly displayed. It tells me yes this will get better, it will get easier. It’s determination despite the heat to show how beautiful life is, tells me I am not the only rock. There are other islands. This is life Thanks goodness for life. Tears from your Mother. Smile from a stranger. A hug. That’s life? Is that life? Thank goodness for life, as painful as it is right now.
If you would like more information about Alzheimer’s/Dementia this is a link to the Canadian site.
I had a conversation with a customer recently about Eskimos having over 50 different words for snow. Apparently this is however just a urban legend. But it got me thinking, since we are so bogged down in the wet stuff here, just how many different words we use for rain. When you live on the wet coast, I mean the West Coast, you learn to deal with rain, because there are few weeks in the year that we don't participate in ducking and covering. Those few weeks are called Summer. They are short and sweet, humid, and hot. The phrases that we use to describe rain are creative. At least you don't have to shovel it. Liquid Sunshine April Showers Periods of Rain Another wet one No end in sight Never Ending It's Raining Cats and Dogs
We also have very descriptive words for the wet stuff, such as: Monsoon, damp, cold, drenching, soaking, sopping, slick, precipitation, glistening, showers, droplets, drizzle, spitting. Most of these come from our daily weather reports on the evening news. And I am sure that you can come up with some zingers of your own. Be creative, unless of course you are waterlogged.
looked it up. Do you like words? I love words, but I find that I need to replace a few words that are a little dated in my vocabulary somewhat like those bell bottom jeans you have still have hanging your closet, hoping that the trend will come back, it did, and suddenly it was been there, done that. So here’s one of the words, “cool” there isn’t going to be anything hip and funky about my replacement word for “cool.” Yes, it’s real, I’ll tell you what it is at the end of the post.
I mean, does anyone even use the word “cool” anymore? Do you find yourself still using expressions that you used decades ago, no matter how you try to weed them out? I am almost embarrassed to be dating myself by using the word, but sometimes it slips out… along with a few others that I can’t mention. What word will ever have that kind of amazement, power, and sense of surprise… as “cool” and still sound good coming out of our mouths? I know… I’m drawing a blank too.
Now onto the randomness part, take a look at the images… that’s a dragon fruit. It… actually… tastes… good. Something like a kiwi, without the banana flavour, mild, barely sweet, and the rind is hot hot hot pink! Almost Cerise pink, it doesn’t look real do it, and it has a slight spongy feel to the outside, the inside is crisp, try one. When’s the last time you tried anything new… and unusual? And have you ever had a dragon fruit?
This isn’t actually new to me, I did have one years ago, but that was so long ago that it doesn’t count anymore. The insides always remind me of a Oreo cookie blizzard… ” cool” I ah mean… interesting isn’t it? See it’s just a perfect word. “cool.” Well, there should be more fruit photos, but each time I sliced off a piece I ate it before it made it to the camera… I was hungry, the light was good, and lunch was a memory… life’s like that. It’s a unusual kind of fruit to find in apple country, down on the coast they are common because there are more Asian groceries… but here in big sky land, not so much. “Cool” right?
My favourite posts seem to come from somewhere deep inside my heart. I don’t know why that surprises me so much, but it does. Those “sit down, what will I write, I can’t think of anything to write about” posts. Suddenly out of nowhere on a blank screen, a few words meander lazily into view. Plodding, belligerent, surly teenagers, they won’t turn their heads to look me straight in the eye. Oh go on your way I want to tell them, go off to the other side of the screen, go and text someone, you’re not what I’m looking for. But being desperate, I’m willing to try and shake some sort of sense out of them, moving, erasing, typing until they start to behave, finding themselves organized into a post. W orked, edited, crossed out, added to… until the finished post has so little to do with what it looked like at it’s birth that it is unrecognizable.
There have been conversations emailed back and forth among us about blogging, why we do it, how we do it, how we feel about it. What inspires us. And not surprisingly I sometimes find snippets of those conversations to be the catalyst for a new post. Nothing like typing a email with one hand, while the other is taking cryptic notes that no longer make sense a day later. Partial phrases, misspelt words, I find my thoughts to be so fleeting, slipping through fingers, darting into dark cracks of the winter day… that if I don’t write it down immediately it’s gone. I’m good at writing down only the titles, ignoring the stacks of thoughts that would flesh out the post, hoping to trigger remembrance when I reread the title again. It never works, I should know better, but I don’t. Mundane tasks are the best for composing posts thoughtlessly folding laundry, while pondering, musing, writing, editing, and then poof it’s gone. I need a mental save button… I can dream up, and compose a post in my mind, only to find that I can’t remember a word of what I thought to be so elegant a few minutes later. Lasting about as long as a soap bubble drifting in the air.
Inspiration is the key, what makes your heart beat a little faster will more then likely capture someone else's interest also. Being a visual person, I need to write posts inspired by the images I have taken, each jpeg tells a story, shows a emotion, describes a thought. When I don’t take the camera out I feel deprived of something to express my creativity.
To compensate the brain creates posts out of comments, emails, brief ideas that are strung on the clothesline of the brain, tweaking, and imagining until the the laundry is dry and put away. Creativity aired out, gone, with only a subtle whiff of lavender in the air. The belligerent teenaged words all grown up and now turned into a organized blog post. Blog on.
The world is a beautiful place, almost always. But at times it can also be a disruptive swirling mess. And I find that sometimes to write a honest, truthful. Blog post.
That uplifts, engages, and inspires. Without venting. Or complaining. To share parts of my life, the happy parts. The good parts. In a thousand words. Or. Less. The honest, truly real parts. Without the bad, the overly sad. Or the awful added in for that wow effect. Sometimes for me. It turns out to be one of the hardest things I can strive to achieve at times. To keep my voice real, authentic, natural. To come to the computer after a dazzlingly difficult day, and flush it all away. Bend those fingers over the keyboard, focus the eyes on the screen. And look inward, to my center, to find something good to write about. Something good that you, who take the time to visit this blog. Can take away.
Mull over, think about. Enjoy looking at. And feel good after reading. Because I think we all need that. It can be a challenge at times. But life is all about challenges isn’t it? And you, who read what I write. Who look at what I photograph. Who know me through this blog. And beyond. You who leave comments that make me think, dream, and warm my heart. Well you, are so worth it. Truly. So I want to know? What about you? How do you manage to come to the blogging table each time, thinking good thoughts, and being positive. How do you find your center? Despite life, and it’s huge array of challenges that we all go through each day. I need to tell you. That sometimes for me… To come here, and write, think, share words, and photos, to connect with all of you. Who have been here long, and those new. To not bring to the table the problems that life throws at all of us. To stand straight, to be cheerful, and pleasant, and smile. It’s not always easy.
And that’s not what this post is about. I have found that when I take a moment, look inside. To find my own personal center. Things change. They slow down, they stand back and let me breathe. And. That’s important to me. Because this blog is supposed to be fun. And I want to keep it that way. I want to grow, to stay fresh. I can see it in my work, my photos, my words. When I get to that center. Bulls eye. When I can say what I mean, and it shows in my work. How about you? What do you do, to find your center, in a swirling world.
Practice random beauty, and senseless acts of love. Anonymous Wednesday Words — To see more participants in Wednesday Words, please look on the side bar. If you wish to join in, just drop me a email, or a comment. wateringcans[at]gmail.com
The longer you blog, the more you learn. The more you learn, the more you realize what you need to do in order to keep up. The more you do, the more you realize that there is so much more you don’t know. And this goes around in a vicious circle until you have blog burnout.
Follow any good blogging websites and the advice ranges from: do this, to do that, and never ever do that. Click on over to another site, and you will be told to do the exact opposite. About the only consistent advice might be: DO NOT USE WORD VERIFICATION. That’s great advice.
I like blogging advice, and I like tutorials, hints, and ideas on how to do things, I like social media… but that’s just me. You might have other things that appeal to you. That’s OK, we all don’t have to be the same kind of bloggers, remember that village I wrote about a while back? But there comes a time when we have to question if everything we are reading is important enough to us to follow through on, or should we just use our own judgement on certain things. How much free time do you have, and how much are you willing to spend blogging, and promoting your blog? And for what reason, monetary, growth, friendship? When did blogging become about learning SEO, key words, transparency and social media, and less then connecting with your community?
There are some experts out there that will tell you to make sure to hit all of the social media sites to promote your new post, Google+, twitter, Face Book, the works. I have also noticed that despite the thousands of followers they have, some of those sites have very few comments, it makes you wonder what’s up with that? Are they so busy building a empire of social media influence that they don’t have the time to interact with anyone? They will tell you not to have two columns of sidebars, not to forget to put up your social media icons, not to use more then 3 colors in your design, and to make sure your posts are under 300 words, while others will say at least 1000 words. It can be exhausting to read, and process and I haven’t even written a blog post that day.
I personally can barely put out a project a month, much less one every day. But that’s me, there are amazingly some bloggers who can do it, and good on them. I used to blog every day, and while I agree it’s made me a better writer, and photographer, practice makes anyone better, all that blogging would improve anyone’s skills. But I find that I need time to get out there with my camera, because as much as I love blogging, and I do love it, I love photography even more.
I will still continue to participate in my chosen areas of social media, I will still be posting on my Muddy Boot Dreams face book page, and I have a Google + page for MBD, but I will also be out there with my camera a lot more. It’s important to me to hone those skills, continue to develop my eye, and forge a new path for myself. As I am mulling over tutorials, hints, and ideas that I come across on how to use social media, I am going to be reading about, and using only those ideas that I feel are really worth my time, and effort. Some are well worth it, but I am leaving it up to my inner blogger to decide which ones I believe in, isn’t blogging supposed to be about fun, and community, along with learning to do new things?
How many social media outlets do you regularly participate in? Does your blog have a FB page, a G+ page, are you on Pinterest. Do you follow fellow bloggers personal, and blogging social media sites? Let’s continue the conversation in the comments, I’m curious about how many of you have expanded beyond the blog. This post was inspired by Brenda from a Cosy Little House, one of my favourite seasoned, and beloved bloggers who has written a great post atBrenda’s blog tipswhere she is sharing her opinion about blogging, virtual assistants, and linky parties…… click on over, it’s well worth reading.
You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream. C.S. Lewis Wednesday Words — To see more participants in Wednesday Words, please look on the side bar. If you wish to join in, just drop me a email, or a comment. wateringcans[at]gmail.com
I wasn’t sure how to approach this. But I knew that I had to put it out there, b ecause we all need to find a little joy in our lives. And to be grateful.
Especially this time of year. It will be fun, I’m sure of it. Especially at this time of year. The start of the season of celebration. Of love, joy, and giving. With the days short bleak, dark, the nights long and cold. Filled with white clouds that shake snow down from the skies like icing sugar from a sifter. And because Winter is coming, there are signs of it all around us. It’s really cold here, everything is frozen solid. Autumn is gathering up her suitcase, leaving no trace behind. The colorful leaves she decorated with are all gone now. The light won’t linger, darkness comes early. And it makes us wonder. What will we write about? What will we take photos of?
How will we? So how about? Everyday beauty, learning to find joy in the ordinary. Because. There are people who can always be counted on to see it a little differently. Looking beyond, to see what is missed. All around them. In everyday objects. And those people are you.
Let’s create momentum. Let’s share what we see, what we hear, what we think, what we write. Describing snowflakes falling from the grey sky. Outside in the still moment, stopped in time. Boots lined up at the door. Warm winter mittens, keeping out the cold. Cat’s sleeping curled in circles, dog prints in snow deep. In words, and images our thoughts, what we see. To find joy, and share it, tell about it, in every day objects. To talk, to capture our world, how it moves us, what it makes us think. As sunlight flits across the wall before it disappears for the night. Describing a beloved bowl on the counter, warm cookies scenting the house, sitting on a plate. A steaming cup of Chai tea. The song of a small bird on a bare branch, grateful for it’s dinner.
Let’s find joy in the ordinary, let’s share our finds, promote our posts, and inspire each other. And still make this as simple as possible. When you include a image, or words in your blog posts that makes you grateful, joyful, thankful, or inspired, u se the caption: Find Joy In the Ordinary on that part of your post so we can read about it.
Send me a email me and request a invite to the Pinterest group board called #Find Joy In The Ordinary anyone can join in, you don’t have to be a blogger.
Use your photos, words, what ever it is that gives you inspiration, things that help you to find joy in ordinary objects.
Include the hashtag #Find Joy, or #FindJoyInTheOrdinary for your Pinterest pin description, and in your Instagram images so they can be found in the search engines.
Pin the full post to the board, write a short description explaining what it is that you are inspired by. Don’t forget the hash tags.
“Like” the Facebook page Find Joy In The Ordinary and post your inspirations.
I’m so looking forward to seeing what we as a village can come up with… there are so many simply beautiful things to appreciate and be grateful for out there… go for it! Here’s a funny background story about these pomegranates used in my post. My Mom kept bringing them over, one by one, until we ended up with 3. She thinks they’re attractive, and wanted me to use them as decorations, or as she puts it, “in a photo shoot.” [What can I say, she’s a fan!] I was happy that she thought of me, and appreciated her bringing them over, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat any of them. I could only remember the one that I ate forever years ago… it’s just wasn’t my thing. All that hype about these warty looking red spheres? What’s the big deal, the one I had, was pithy, and bitter, and the seeds outweighed the juice. After Goggling how to cut open a pomegranate, I rather cautiously cut the top off of one, split it open at the seams, and carefully pulled it back. Clicked off a couple of shots, and moved it around a bit, a seed fell out, I was hungry, I ate it. And simply fell in love! It’s delightful, juicy, tart, and sweet, all at the same time. So I guess, Moms always do know best, and I think you should give them give them a try if you haven’t already.
Something else you might like to try is new Silk Creamy Cashew. It’s very creamy, thick, and is a great substitute for dairy in baking, and cooking. I loved using it instead of dairy in my Chai tea, it tasted great. And since it has less calories then skim milk I don’t feel guilty having this treat more often. You can read my blog post, and more about how I used it here. You can visit Silk Canada’s Facebook page for great ideas, recipes and more.
The high school that I used to attend a long time ago, thought it would be interesting to make the students run daily laps on the outdoor track. Maybe they thought we had too much energy, or needed the exercise, but it was also a fast way to weed out the smokers.
I was known despite my high school shyness as the fastest girl around, my record beaten only by Murray Shickford. Who was also known as the bad boy to avoid at all costs. Murray could outrun me in long distance races, but I beat him in the short bursts. Then one day I remember being surprised when he suddenly pulled out from behind me one day, and passed me with a wave. That bugged me a lot. I gave it all I had, and I did eventually pass him, and won that race. But he won the next, and the next, until one day while we were running round in circles, I just stopped. Quit outright. All I could think was why on earth was I running myself ragged getting all sweaty? What was the point? Sometimes that’s the way I feel about blogging. While I love it, and really enjoy our communications, the relationships that we build, the village that I am part of, there are times when I get to thinking what’s the point? Why do we do this, what is our end result? Why spend hours crafting, researching, writing and editing unique and interesting posts, taking great photos, tweaking, publishing them, only to find that we are not reaching the audience that we thought we would? Now before you click away in anger because I dared to say anything at all, I know that the sense of community I have with my fellow bloggers is the driving force here behind my blog. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have continued to blog for almost 6 years. Being part of a community that shares, and cares, grows, and develops into a interesting group of people is one of the reasons I think we all blog. To connect with the people in our villages, our audience, our readers, those who we know, and those who we are to meet in the future. It’s also for ourselves, our self esteem, our joy of being able to express what we are seeing, and feeling at a given moment. Sharing it with others who feel, and understand the same, although that circle may be smaller then we want it to be.
But the blogging world is changing All things change, life moves forward, new technology becomes the next big thing, people get busier, and have less time to read blogs, less interest. We need to change with the way the world is going in order to keep our blogs alive, fulfilling, and interesting for more then just our immediate little circles. And while there is a lot of conflicting information out there, write longer posts, write shorter post, don’t write words at all… use photos. Don’t use photos, use words. Some of it is going to help us. The most consistent piece of information I’ve read, is be yourself. Oh, and if we bloggers don’t evolve, we will be going the way of the dinosaurs. Great! We will all turn into fossils, lovely. I want to explore some of those ideas, I hope that you are as interested in finding out what the predictions for the blogging world are as much as I am. And not just finding out what they think is going to happen, but how we can change and grow our blogs. Because I’m not interested in turning into a fossil, and I doubt you are too. For those of us bloggers who don’t write about DIY, food, or technical trends, what keeps our blogs out there for others to find? What happens when you are a naked niche? Don’t cover up we are not naked while blogging, I just coined that phrase, to describe bloggers like us, who write about what inspires them, the interesting things that happen to them in their daily grind. We don’t consistently fit the pattern of niche blogging. We generally are not Mommy bloggers, gardening bloggers, DIY’s bloggers, then what are we? And much of the information out there really doesn’t apply to our blogs. Some of you don’t dabble in any other platform of social media at all… and that’s fine, but beyond the blogging link ups, and follow me, I’ll follow you, what else can we do to grow our audience? Because you can’t call it a circus if there are no animals, and the audience is missing can you? For myself I want to be proud of my blog when I mention it to a stranger, I don’t want to cringe at the thought of them judging me by what I am writing. I want to stand straight, and be proud of what I have poured onto this page. I want them to know who, and what I am through my images, my interaction, my writing, my audience. And I want them to come back and read my new posts, every time. And if you want the same, let me know.
Incidentally, I did beat Murray in more races then I lost, it took a lot of effort, and sweat, but we pretty much ended up neck in neck by the end of the school year. Our personal blogging villages can all use a population explosion, new readers, new faces. I have some ideas, and I am sure you do also. Let’s put our heads together and figure out how us naked niche bloggers can not only survive, but flourish in our villages.
All is not well in Blogger land, again… Most of the links on my page refuse to work, and I know how important it is to recognize those of you who are so kind to join in Wednesday Words. I apologize, on behalf of Blogger and myself, I have given it my all, but nothing seems to be changing. I am hoping for spontaneous changes, that one day I will just wake up and it will be all wonderful again. Until then, well I guess a good gin and tonic takes away the worries — I am just kidding. There were ongoing issues with the scheduled posts, and that finally seems to have righted itself. And there are a few other issues that keep popping up. The thought of moving to Type Pad, or Word press"do you hear that Blogger?" has crossed my mind many time, and I might still do it. There are some good reasons why I have stayed with Blogger during all these trials. And I would hate to move, but if things don't start looking better soon, I might be moving house soon. I would ask you to leave a comment, but apparently that is not working either. Amendment: Some people are able to comment today, and sometimes the comment words disappear. Many thanks to those of you who are commenting, at least I know I am reaching some readers. Jane
I was one of those adamant people who always declared that they hated cell phones, and would never get one. Not for me the stereotypical rude customer chatting away in a line-up, the loud conversations increasing in volume with each, NO? They didn’t? REALLY? Just so not us.
Living up here in a rural area we realized that they are rather handy if your vehicle needs assistance, or you are far away from home, so we got smart phones, not the latest and greatest, but these are pretty amazing. They do everything but the laundry, really truly they do. Funnily enough mine gets more use as a social media device then it does phone calls. Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, it can do all of that, it’s very fun. They are miniature computers, full of abilities, and apps. Did I mention that they take amazing photos? Almost as good a quality as my expensive DSLR… and a lot lighter in weight then dragging around a heavy camera. I was playing with my phone, pressing buttons, and getting lost inside the maze of computer options, when I discovered voice to text. I had no idea this existed… I might have known about it, but didn’t think that these phones could do that. Press the microphone icon, speak into the phone, and watch your words get jumbled onto the screen. Seems the computer has a few issues with spell check, and understanding exactly what it is I am trying to say. Simple commands like call Mary… it tries to call anyone else with a name that sounds similar. And a disembodied voice will repeat what it thinks it heard. The voice is called Lexie, because these are Androids, not IPhones with the charming voice of Siri. I think I’m going to call mine Darth Vader. Me, whispering: “Phone, call Mary.” Phone: “OK, call Carrie.” Robot voice over. Me: adamantly, No “CALL MARY.” Phone: “OK, call Sherry” Darth Vader robotic voice. Me, loudly: “CALL MARY” Phone: “Call Terry, dialling Terry now.” Me, raising my voice: “ACK!” Phone: “Call Astrid.” The phone usually wins and I end up hanging up, while it drunk dials someone called Astrid, that I have never talked to before, but more then likely called numerous times and hung up on. Sorry about that Astrid, it’s a learning curve for us.
The phone can even take your conversation and turn it into a email, perfect for those heavy gardening days when you are collapsed on the couch with exhaustion, but still want to return emails to friends. Only problem is while waxing rhetorical about the garden blossoms the phone can use it’s own judgement and occasionally turn a innocent sentence into something not quite as flowery. It has a habit of putting words into my mouth so to speak. Many of which I am very surprised to find out are not nice. Bad phone, wash your mouth out with soap. And a good thing I didn’t tell you to send that yet. I wanted to let you know about a fun app that has been getting some attention lately from other bloggers. I’ve had it for a few weeks, and absolutely love it, and use it all the time. It’s called Pocket, it’s simple to install on your bookmark bar, or as a app in your cell phone. Imagine that you’re browsing your favourite blog, or see a great image, or article, but you don’t have time to stay and look further. Used to be that you would bookmark it, and read it later, scrolling through your lengthy list of bookmarked sites to find the one that you were looking for. If your list is anything like mine, it’s huge. Pocket makes it fast and easy to take a screen shot of the page, apply a label if you want to organize by subject. To go back and visit that page, click on the pocket icon to find your page, read it and afterwards you can delete it easily.
Today’s Monday Matchup is Julie who writes at Julies little house. She’s a Canadian blogger, who is going through a few changes in her life. She likes knitting, and loves Downton Abbey. She’s also just gone through the stage where you start to question if you want to continue to blog. It’s something that you might have encountered if you have been blogging awhile, and it’s nice to see her continue on. Meredith from Meriknits, and Linda from Crafty Gardener, I know that you are amazing knitters, and thought that you might like to meet Julie. Downton Abbey fans go on over and say hi!
Well, a few words otherwise how would you understand the context of these images. I was cleaning up my camera phone, and found these shots I had taken on a trip to the big city. Thought I would let you see that not everything I take is of flowers.
These are apple crates, and apparently they let the kids paint them, a brilliant idea I think, let me know if you have a favourite shot.
Letting go and letting the words find a spot on the page isn’t something that I can easily turn on and off. To really be able to express myself I have to live in the moment, feel it deeply in my heart and have this great need to share. It’s a fragile bubble, easily burst by distractions, noise, worry, anything can break that translucent film. How do you Blog from the heart ♥ It’s easiest when I have a sense of something almost nagging at me to be let out, to be heard.
When I am doing a mundane task, like driving, [I’m joking] folding laundry, vacuuming, cleaning that kind of everyday thing. And as I work the post more or less writes itself. The words form themselves and fly out, if there is nowhere for them to land they float off into the air. Lost… it’s important to get them down in some form right away.
Some are lost blog posts that I write in the early morning hours… the ones that sound to me so concise, and interesting, and then they are gone. All because I didn’t get up and write them down. But at 4 am who wants to get out of bed.
Some are inspired by a moment, sitting on the deck, fresh breeze blowing, birds chirping, a discovery of a new flower blooming. I can almost touch the emotion it feels so real, and it’s so easy to write. It’s as if I am capturing a memory, and retelling it.
Those are my heartfelt blogging moments, but I am interested in how you come up with your posts? Do you have a idea of what you want to write before you sit down at the computer? Or do you just sit, and it flows out, creativity set free. Writing…
The red numbers on the digital clock living on the night table jiggle as jumbled thoughts pushed me to the edge of the bed. I’m forced to rise earlier than the now summer silent birds, because the urge to capture in written words those tenuous tangle of thoughts, and feelings is beyond urgent.
They come rushing towards me chilling like the edge of cold water over bare feet, drawing me down to the cycloptic eye of the computer. I’m determined to be snatching from oblivion, thoughts, reasoning's, observations that flit through my mind like a soft breeze through a lace curtain, the correct grammar ignored. Imagining them into real, inscribed by my hand upon paper, or computer screen before they disappear into the dawn, sleepy eyed as they bid me farewell. They stay no longer than the hummingbirds at the brilliant pink flowers in my garden. Sleek, fast, flighty a conveyor belt of meanings packaged in a drowsy early morning wake up call that will only knock once, and then journey forward to someone else. Be greedy, grab what you can, use it, gather it, contain it, transcribe, turn this chaotic whirling mass into something useful is what I tell myself. Reach out, grasp those fleeting thoughts and turn them into words, embellished, cherished, read, and remembered for longer than the micro second so they stay in the mind. Determination pushes it’s outstretched legs against me, hogging the bed, moving, like a beloved pet securely claiming a favourite spot under the covers. There are no excuses this morning, thoughts beckon, demand, insist. They need to be heard, memorized, reread, and written. The tenuous creeping of a soft pink dawn lies blatantly to my face, giving misleading information about the scorching day ahead… confusing me into thinking that weather forecasts are wrong, and giving the sense that all will be well. If only I get up and copy down what I feel.
In the near dark lit only by the glow of a electronic screen, I record the virtual diary of my public life written in undecipherable computer code, backed up, edited, perused, and shared. Scribbled phrases that hang like sodden clothes on a backyard clothes line. Jerked by a unseen hand they come into my mental vision, before scurrying down the line, with new ones appearing as fast as they can be hung up. Don’t run out of clothespins they seem to say. Boo our spoiled tuxedo cat, skitters at my feet, mascaraing as a mostly black shadow in the dark of the morning. W ondering why I dare break his strict morning routine, no longer in bed giving off warmth and a place to lay up against. I tell him “one day I am going to trip over you and break my neck and you won’t get breakfast” once more, our morning ritual, as if his sonorous meowing's didn’t act as a fog horn warning in my sleep deprived brain. The cat rules with a iron fist, there are no velvet gloves, any change to his routine results in kitty tantrums, and sulking. Today it’s worth more to transcribe my morning thoughts while studiously ignoring the mouse like scratching's at the front door. Finally I relent, carry him upstairs like a small child, cuddling, and cooing, softly convincing him that the bed in the room I have just vacated is the perfect temperature for a cat to doze away the early morning, letting the birds greet the dawn, “just this once” for him. Breakfast eaten from his blue and white checked china dish now safely secured in his stomach he can afford to allow you to control that one aspect of his day. He will wreak his revenge later. I daydream of coffee, with it’s rich dark depths, the one third of a cup a daily ritual, but it’s far away in time, the skill to prepare it not something that I’ve ever cultivated. Instead I will wait until my beloved returns from his run, sweating, stretching, endorphins cascading off of him like droplets onto the freshly washed floor. It’s hot already this early in the morning and as I fruitlessly adjust fans, and open windows more thoughts escape like a moths. Where is the fly swatter when I need it? They could be smeared against the wall, to be peeled back, and investigated when I have a moment later. Some are recaptured, written down on the notepads that decorate desks. Silence fills the house, not deafening, encouraging. Tiny congested cat snores echo through the upstairs hallway, mingling with the sounds of mornings. Deep bellows tossed over toasting fields of wheat, waver on the open window sills and resonate in my chest like a cough. They come from the cows in the red barn that my camera loves in winter. Soon the neighbour’s chickens will cackle out their daily birth announcements loudly proclaimed as each egg laid gets marked on a feathered scoreboard.
A back door slams startling me from crafting a sentence, but if it means coffee is soon to be served, it’s worth the lapse of concentration. I’m grateful that no bears gave chase this morning, the black mound of berry infused bear scat recently encountered on the road near the white and orange kitties' farm worries me more than him. “There are photos” I told him, “would you like to see them?” As if photos of a pile of poop would convince him to run in another direction. They are harmless he said… not seen except by the corner of a eye, disappearing into the woods, but I worry still. The deer, silent, with glowing eyes from headlights a safer subject as I query his wildlife count from his run that morning. He leaves on important business to the backyard. The cranking of the water tap echoing through the floor reminds me that it’s our watering day, and there are flowers as desperate for a drink as I am for that minimal amount of fresh brewed French pressed coffee. Black please, no cream, no sugar. It’s morning, and there is work to be done.
Powerpuff Boys. Smirk. What kind of fruity name is that? Sounds like a local counterpart to the Chippendales. Or a new incarnation of the Masculados. But don't be misled by the name though. From the ashes of controversy, the so-called "Pink Army" has arrived, and there's certainly nothing dainty about them.
Pretty in Pink? Pardon the hyperbole, I'm really just amped. After months and months of incessant planning and lineup changes, TPB has finally come to fruition. Featuring 10 runners all hailing from different cities ( fun fact, it may win you a t-shirt one day), the final roster for our Chris Sports Epic Relay 250 team is finally complete.
Pink would have been horrible on these Masculados
To the uninitiated, the Chris Sports Epic Relay 250 is based off the hugely popular Ragnar Relay Series in the United States. Your team is divided into two vans for an overnight relay race that traverses picturesque terrain spanning Subic, Bataan and Zambales, with the 10 team members running three legs of anywhere from 5-12 kms each.
What fun! Now, we never realized how hard it was to snag 10 dudes paying P1,200 each for less than a combined 30 kilometers. There was a time that the only definitive members on our lineup were team captain Bryan Rivera, myself, and highly respected veteran Graciano "Ka Totoy" Santos. Thankfully, everything just fell into place at the right time, and we are happy to put together a team that does justice to pink. Okay fine, its fuschia.
Here's the current lineup as well as some snippets about the members :
Graciano "Ka Totoy" Santos
He's like our Obi-Wan-Kinobi. The grizzled master never hesitates to give valuable training advice to us noobs. Ka Totoy also abhors any form of alcohol to keep in shape all year round, and his eyebrows could give Isko Moreno's a run for their money.
Bryan "Runner-S" Rivera
Our undisputed team captain. One of the most improved runners over the past year, he has shown incredible tenacity both on and off the road. His organizational and leadership skills are unparalleled as well, and when the time comes that I'm a millionaire already, he'll be the first one I'll call to run my businesses. Throws a mean frisbee too. Is way sexier than Right Said Fred, putting the "S" in "Runner-S".
Mark "Beep Beep" Rodica
The former volleyball star-turned-trackster has a penchant for short shorts, snappy one-liners and even snappier 10k times. Judging by his picture, you could see that he's a very serious guy.
Mark" Indorock" Mulder
This Holland native has been a ball of positive energy for the team. A relatively late addition, this cool, methodical dude now sports a new Glee-inspired do'. The brains behind Manila Road Runners, he is a master at deciphering Tagalog words through context clues and sign language. Shame on his inconsiderate teammates. Er, oops.
Ronnel "Kampuger" Go
Although most people will probably never know what a "Kampuger" is in their lifetime ( I don't know what it is either, and I don't wanna know), this amiable, wise-cracking fella can hang with the best of them. As you can see by his photo, he also has a bit of a Rudolf Nureyev in him. Roy "Kuya" Rivera
Ultra-fit Roy is Bryan's older brother, although at first we thought that it was the other way around. This laid-back, music loving, ultra-fit vegan doesn't concern himself with km splits and pace, he prefers to be lost in the moment and stays away from the extra pressure. He is the founder of the "SBMA Traffic Enforcer" fanpage on Facebook.
Mark "MarkHernz" Hernandez
This model-turned- resilient-ultramarathoner is an all-around athlete who seems to excel at whatever sport he tries his hand on. Totally dedicated hubby (sorry gals) who once ran a 3:30 split for a 10k... . during the first 200 meters. He got very tired soon thereafter. Suffice to say, he never did that again.
Jairuz "Jai-Ho" Agang-ang
A man of few words, he lets his running do the talking. We somehow cajoled him into putting "Jai-Ho" on his uniform. (LSS mode) His unassuming manner belies his competitive nature on the road. He is very inspired right now, nuff said.
Brando "Ace" Losaria
This wisecracking ball of perpetual energy often has the team in stitches, and "Photobrando" takes somes of the most beautiful race shots I have seen. This hard-training raceday habitue has also been touted as a cuter, "funner" version of a certain former Streetboy. His long term goal is to run a 2:30/km pace someday.
And that's the team folks! Oh grr, do I really have to add myself?
I like taking long walks on the beach, Mcdo Fried and Nuggets, I have two dogs named Strowganoff and Piolow, and the grade of my contact lenses is -350. Oh, and I have a girlfriend who can run 102 kilometers faster than me. Sob.
Me and my well-pedigreed support crew
On the eve of our impending battle, I conclude this article amidst a cacophony of sighs and snores from our snug Subic hotel, hopeful and excited about the events that are about to unfold in the next couple of hours. Thanks for all the support and well-wishes that you have given us, we truly appreciate it.
There is so much that we take for granted in life, no matter how thankful, and in the moment we might try to be. But there are moments of total clarity happening all the time, although it might just have to be a quiet, a chance for us to gather it all together to let the moment shine through. Chaos, noise, interference, jobs, errands, pain, and situations beyond our control, darkness falling sooner, dinner being later.
It’s hard to hear the quiet voice inside our hearts. I heard it today, and for that I am grateful. Walking through the countryside, gazing across the empty fields of the neighbouring farms. The open land undulating with pockets of trees, that are gradually losing their leaves. Walking free of the towering fir trees that group together around our houses, like birds perched on branches. Shielding us from summer sun, but lapping up any winter light. They are surprisingly dense when seen from afar, as if dropped from the sky like cake batter on the floor, smeared below the mountains, scraped from the fields. Autumn’s thick clouds transformed By the sun into a fine mist, shrouding the dark indented valleys of the mountains that hover over our houses. A leftover summer scarf that will soon be packed away. My lungs breathed in the faintest scent of wood smoke floating on the damp, sun warmed air. The stronger pungent smell of manure scooped from barns and spread on fields, washed away with the October rain. The latest cleanout of the chicken barn could be scented downwind, mixed with what the cows did outside while waiting to be fed.
It made me grateful that I could walk in such a peaceful and beautiful place, smell the scents of farming. Knowing that come spring they would be busy in the fields again producing food for our tables. Thankful that I can walk, happy that I woke up today, alive, and with happy feelings. Glad that I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face as I tipped it towards the sky. Feel it warm my legs, and my hands where it softly struck. And as I walked I realized just how thrilled I was to hear the sound of a breeze rustling the remaining stubborn leaves in the almost bare tree branches. Gathering up the sound of the “I’m not leaving quite yet” chickadee singing it’s heart out, in melodious tune with the other birds near the bull rushes. The swooping wings of a Raven, with it’s guttural clucking echoed off of the land. Chuckling as it passed overhead, a quiet shadow of dark feathers. It makes me wish I could record it to play for you. When a Raven passes overhead, the sheer strength of it’s long wings, the beat of air passing through feathers makes you turn your head upwards and search the sky. And then there is the chuckle, not a call, but a complaint I think, for Ravens seem to always be unhappy, moving from one tree to another. I passed the red barn, the subject of so much of my photographic journeys in all seasons, glad to know that across the road was the farmer that we bought our free range eggs from.
The metallic jingling of keys in my pocket that kept tune to my steps, are used to unlock a door to a home filled with love, and comfort. A husband who helps out more then his share, and is glad to do it. I’m grateful for his help, and comfort. I am also glad that our house is habituated by a slightly manipulative cat, who meows continuously for food, but will still allow head rubs, and tummy tickles when he is in a good mood, and if there are treaties involved. For a furry bundle of noisy grumbles, and early morning wakeup calls, I am thankful because for so many years we lived in places that would not allow us the joy of sharing our life with one. Just remind me that after the next 4 am wakeup call, OK? Today I am grateful, for life, for sun, for living our dream in a place where family is near, and living in the land that is close to my heart. So I am asking, today what are you grateful for? I’m inspired today by the amazing words of her Face Book postings from Carolynn atA Glowing Ember, and the beautifully written blog posts of Laura from I’m so vintage. Their posts, along with yours make me grateful that I am a blogger. For all the good words, and kind comments that everyone leaves, I thank you. Should you be so inclined, please click on the share buttons below, it would be much appreciated.And double PPS? I forgot that the sponsored post will be published on Monday, November 17th, not today as I’m so mixed up that I mistakenly told you the wrong date, please look for it then.
