1.Rename things. I’ve found that giving new names to ordinary things provides a positive outlook. It also gives new meaning and joy to your everyday world. This is how it works. Jerry and I have a den in our home. Den sounds crass to me. It’s where animals hide. Therefore, I renamed our den the Entertainment Room. Never mind it doesn’t have a popcorn machine. The Entertainment Room is a more enjoyable space to view my 32-inch TV than when we called it the den. We have a spare bedroom at our house, but we never call it a spare bedroom. It is my Writing Studio. We have an enclosed patio with floor to ceiling glass, but enclosed patio is not what we call it. It’s our Atrium, of course. We have a garbage can enclosure on the side of our house. I prefer to call it the Hideaway Retreat for Used Throwaways and Slightly Rotting Produce. You see what I mean? Renaming things gives you a new perspective on your life. By renaming things, you can upgrade your world into an amazing Shangri-la.
Category Archives: updates
The Saddest Part of 2018 (you probably don’t realize)
Some people say “the good ol’ days weren’t so good.” I’m here to tell you, they are wrong.
In the good ol’ days, like 1987, we didn’t have cell phones. At least they weren’t a common household item. Cellular phones in 1987 cost about as much as a Ferrari and were the size and weight of a toaster. They didn’t fit very well inside our purse. They didn’t make toast.
Most everyone in 1987 had touch-tone dial phones that sat on desks or hung on the walls. We almost always answered the phone every time it blasted its loud jangle. We didn’t have caller i.d. and we never knew who might be calling. The thing is, in 1987 you could still hope for a fun phone call.
The Dirt In My Life
Writing a blog isn’t as easy as I first thought. You have to come up with topics and sometimes I can’t think of a thing to write on. Add to this, some of the topics I could write about are too sad, or too personal. Some people have asked me to not write about them in my blog, wanting to remain as private as possible. Some think I might embarrass them and have asked me to give them an alias. Since I write on my life’s musings, this limits my range of interesting topics. It limits people I can embarrass too.
Everyone Tasted Spit
…“You said my name wrong! You said ‘Reh-GINA’ and my name is ‘RUH-gina,’”
…“Can I move? He’s kicking me!”
…“This plastic chair is hard.”
I’m at the Young Writers workshop at our local library. The manager asked me to talk to the kids on “Descriptive Language” for the hour. It starts off with lots of restless commotion.
I glance at the large clock on the wall. I have an hour to figure out how to calm my young writers, first grade to eighth. How do I approach this wide range of ages? I would teach descriptive language in a much different manner to the older children than I would to the younger. I might be in for a long hour.
Mother’s Day Pumpkin Face
Welllll-come,” a blonde-haired lady says in a haunting voice, like a spider ready to trap the fly.
On one side of the room, water gushes down the side of a stone wall. It suggests pipes have burst from somewhere in the ceiling. But it’s actually a water feature in the spa’s lobby.
“Just a little paperwork,” says the blonde-haired lady as she hands me a form on a clipboard.
I don’t know how you celebrate Mother’s Day, but I’m observing the occasion by treating myself to a facial at this spa with low-lighting and a gushing wall. But first, paperwork.