tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62485881866967761242024-03-19T05:49:19.692-04:00Dreamer on a MissionLiving a Fulfilled Life of No Regrets Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-10338168765972126912014-07-01T16:09:00.002-04:002014-07-01T16:09:29.669-04:00Exploring My Truth--Writer Style<div class="MsoNormal">
I just finished reading an article posted to the <a href="http://www.pittsburghmom.com/">Pittsburgh Mom</a> website titled “Know
Your Truth…and Stand by It.” It was written by blogger Heather Starr Fiedler who frequently
finds herself defending her views and opinions online. She must know in her heart
what is true for her and stand by it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The timing of this article is interesting to me because
just yesterday I told my husband, “I need a sense of direction.” I was speaking
in terms of my career, which still doesn’t feel well-defined as yet, and which
I feel (as a 40+-year-old person) should be by now. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My husband, being the helpful gent he is, pointed due north,
and then south, east, and west.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You are vastly unhelpful,” I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“You just need to pick a direction and stick to it.” Life
always seems so black-and-white simple when I talk to my husband. And yet it
rarely seems that simple in my own head. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So reading this blog post about knowing your truth has made
me think: What is my truth? Who do I want to be? How do I want to identify
myself as a writer? A novelist (my lifelong dream)? An eco-mommy blogger (my
current pastime)? An essayist (my only “officially” published genre)? <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve struggled for a couple of months to come up with a
cohesive website for my writing, but keep coming up short. How do I reconcile
these various parts of my career into a cohesive whole, the “me” who is Sue
Nelko Carr, writer? What is my truth as a writer?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m still narrowing that field down, but here are a few
items for starters:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am a wife and a mom of two. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I care deeply about raising my children in a chemical-free,
healthy environment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am sickened by the state of our nation’s food production
system.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am a frugal, highly budgeted shopper. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I am working to reduce, reuse, and recycle more each day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I enjoy exploring these ideas via the written word. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I also enjoy creating new worlds and new characters via
fiction and would love to be a career novelist.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because I am a wife and mother (and also hold down three
part-time, paying gigs), I struggle to find the time to write anything most
days.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So where do I go from here? Good question. One I will
continue to explore (though which direction I’ll face during the process is
still a mystery--thanks darling!). <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the meantime, please check out my latest blog post for <a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/06/26/looking-for-eco-friendly-summer-travel-time-for-a-staycation/">Mrs.
Green’s World</a> in which I explore the environmental benefits of the increasingly
popular and deliciously frugal staycation. Enjoy!<o:p></o:p></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-53770734153925275372014-06-11T07:40:00.001-04:002014-06-11T07:40:15.058-04:00Two New Posts, and More Good Things ComingIt's a bright, sunny day in Pittsburgh, PA. Actually, it's rather overcast with a prediction of storms, but it's all in your outlook, right? Summer vacation is here, we're meeting up with friends this afternoon, we get to pick up fresh produce from our CSA this afternoon--life is good.<br />
<br />
In celebration of summer, which brings out the kid in all of us, I wanted to share two new kid-related blogs with you that have posted recently, one at <a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/" target="_blank">Mrs. Green's World</a> and one for <a href="http://www.wehatetowaste.com/" target="_blank">We Hate To Waste</a>:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/06/02/disposable-plastic-school-lunches-unhealthy-kids-and-an-unhealthy-planet/" target="_blank">Disposable Plastic + School Lunches = Unhealthy Kids and an Unhealthy Planet</a> <br />
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<a href="http://www.wehatetowaste.com/thrift-store-shopping-kids/">Take a New Look at Thrift Store Shopping for Kids</a><br />
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I know my posts here have been infrequent, but as I've said in previous blogs, I haven't been silent (hence the links). Stay tuned for updates on the big things happening and some changes here at my blog. <br />
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In the meantime, happy reading!Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-86271297151422762532014-04-29T20:52:00.003-04:002014-04-29T20:52:59.685-04:00Mrs. Green: Nutrition Isn't as Easy as it Ought to BeCheck out my latest blog for Mrs. Green that posted today:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/04/29/nutrition-isnt-as-easy-as-it-ought-to-be/?fb_action_ids=10152198189368710&fb_action_types=og.likes" target="_blank">Nutrition Isn't as Easy as it Ought to Be</a>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-87429543928742982172014-04-24T17:56:00.000-04:002014-04-24T20:25:26.963-04:00Springtime for Writers<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s been a long, cold winter around here. Both literally
and metaphorically.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think most people (at least those in the Northeast) will
agree that the warm weather and sunshine we’re finally getting is well deserved
and long overdue. Plants are finally sprouting in my yard and in my living
room, where I’ve started some seedlings with the kids in preparation for warmer
days to come. It’s so refreshing to witness rebirth after so many months buried
under snow and ice.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3s8zpHmDV3DrTQfRbv08fN_H_am3oSXt09uAxINm5Rz7IbcXHhZEQ0VWpcwnllUxpiskvj9j1qUV-m2_5NgLT8XXq9SFJyx4jddPfvW-lHAkUcHyH_w85rsIhZwLFWDHQCVVo_QOVxTg/s1600/WP_20140424_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3s8zpHmDV3DrTQfRbv08fN_H_am3oSXt09uAxINm5Rz7IbcXHhZEQ0VWpcwnllUxpiskvj9j1qUV-m2_5NgLT8XXq9SFJyx4jddPfvW-lHAkUcHyH_w85rsIhZwLFWDHQCVVo_QOVxTg/s1600/WP_20140424_001.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s been a long metaphorical winter for me as well in terms
of my writing life—not that I’ve been completely silent, as you know if you’ve
been following my blogs at <a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/?s=Sue+Carr" target="_blank">Mrs. Green’s World</a>. (And why wouldn’t you?) But
that’s not my “real” writing life (no offense to Mrs. Green).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“But blogging <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i>
writing,” I can hear you say. Yes. And no. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love blogging. It gets me thinking about topics in a depth
I might not have otherwise. It keeps my grammatical and editorial skills honed.
It gets my voice “out there” in front of an audience that might not have read
my work otherwise. It allows me to be me, in my truest of true voices. All good
things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But my writing life—my “real” writing life—lies in fiction,
and fiction is a completely different animal. Where blogging is all about “you,”
writing fiction is all about stepping outside of yourself and embodying “the
other” as fully and completely as a person can. Thinking someone else’s
thoughts. Speaking someone else’s words. Feeling someone else’s feelings. Pulling
the puppeteer strings of someone else’s life.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’ve missed it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Among the lives lying in wait for me during my several-month
dry spell are a sixteen-year-old girl in Elizabethan England trying to make her
way in the world by any means that doesn’t involve taking a husband and running
a household; a fourteen-year-old boy who is haunted (both literally and
figuratively) by the dead brother whose death he caused; a spunky
eight-year-old girl who finds out that she’ll soon have to share her parents
with a new baby brother; a twelve-year-old Croatian boy in 1926 who suddenly
finds himself alone on a train with a ticket to America and no idea how to get
there…and the list goes on. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They miss me, these characters. I can feel it. And I
certainly miss them.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I can see saplings shooting up. Last night, I
reconnected with several writer friends I haven’t seen in years. We talked
about starting a writers group, something I desperately need to keep me on
track, like a gasp of air when drowning. Next weekend I’m attending a writers
retreat—my first in years—with fellow alums from my MFA program. Another deep
gasp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spring is coming indeed, and I couldn’t be more excited.
Now, just as with the saplings growing in my living room, it is up to me to
cultivate the sprouts and help them bloom.<o:p></o:p></span>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-27484291075686349842014-04-12T13:14:00.000-04:002014-04-12T13:14:56.457-04:00Guest Blogs for Mrs. Green's World
<br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HkZDX9Bzl8f-s3wTk-GPC5dRoN6SG9eYUR3oIsaLpLlTy7jVdzdETwLe_8z7rQ02cDlawUauYI5f9qWuMArOF3cXDKgrp8yRWhJRd3W2TmhYzznCT6zbt5z8tACuaHCxVSZkHMZU4ghH/s1600/logo_mrs-green2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HkZDX9Bzl8f-s3wTk-GPC5dRoN6SG9eYUR3oIsaLpLlTy7jVdzdETwLe_8z7rQ02cDlawUauYI5f9qWuMArOF3cXDKgrp8yRWhJRd3W2TmhYzznCT6zbt5z8tACuaHCxVSZkHMZU4ghH/s1600/logo_mrs-green2.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">I realize that I’ve been lax in linking my guest blogs at
</span><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Mrs. Green’s World</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> to my personal blog, so I’ve included a comprehensive
list-to-date here. Please check them out, and please consider joining Mrs.
Green on her mission to create a greener world.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/08/08/confessions-of-an-eco-evader/" title="Permanent Link to Confessions of an Eco-Evader"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Confessions of an Eco-Evader</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Thursday, August 8th,
2013<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/08/24/applying-and-pouring-and-rinsing-and-brushing-with-chemicals/" title="Permanent Link to Applying and Pouring and Rinsing and Brushing with Chemicals"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Applying and
Pouring and Rinsing and Brushing with Chemicals</span></span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Saturday, August 24th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/09/06/the-power-of-the-purge/" title="Permanent Link to The Power of the Purge – 4 Easy Baby Steps!"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Power of the
Purge – 4 Easy Baby Steps!</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Friday, September 6th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/10/11/a-hair-raising-ordeal/" title="Permanent Link to A Hair-raising Ordeal By Sue Carr"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">A Hair-raising
Ordeal </span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Friday, October 11th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/10/24/spiders-really-bug-me/" title="Permanent Link to Spiders Really Bug Me"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Spiders Really Bug Me</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Thursday, October 24th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/11/07/greener-eating-through-muffins/" title="Permanent Link to Greener Eating through Muffins"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Greener Eating
through Muffins</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Thursday, November 7th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/11/15/math/" title="Permanent Link to Do the Math"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Do the Math</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Friday, November
15th, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/11/25/hair-raising-ordeal-times-2-lice/" title="Permanent Link to A Hair-Raising Ordeal Times 2—LICE!"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">A Hair-Raising
Ordeal Times 2—LICE!</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Monday, November 25th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/12/06/sinking-sea-paper/" title="Permanent Link to Sinking in a Sea of Paper"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sinking in a Sea of Paper</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Friday, December 6th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/12/12/hair-today-grey-tomorrow/" title="Permanent Link to Hair Today, Grey Tomorrow"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hair Today, Grey Tomorrow</span></span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">Thursday, December 12th, 2013 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/01/17/a-plea-to-disney-rethink-your-not-so-magic-bands/" title="Permanent Link to A Plea to Disney: Rethink Your Not-So-Magic Bands"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">A Plea to
Disney: Rethink Your Not-So-Magic Bands</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Friday, January 17th, 2014 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/02/06/riding-the-soda-stream/" title="Permanent Link to Riding the Soda Stream"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Riding the Soda Stream</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Thursday, February 6th, 2014 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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a Book—or a Laundry Detergent—by its Cover</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Thursday, March 27th, 2014 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/04/03/the-sweet-life-sans-sugar/" title="Permanent Link to The Sweet Life—Sans Sugar"><span style="color: #0672d0; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Sweet Life—Sans Sugar</span></span></a></span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> Thursday, April 3rd, 2014 <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-34462782408304382462014-03-20T14:37:00.002-04:002014-03-20T14:37:40.918-04:00My So-Called Sugar-Free Life<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1a2a37; font-family: Myriad, Helvetica, Tahoma, Arial, clean, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">When you last heard from me a little over two weeks ago, I was preparing to embark on a 40-day sugar fast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, yeah, how’s that thing going?” you might ask, maybe even with a chuckle at the complete insanity of it all. I mean, really, what kind of insane person would choose to go 40 days without sugar?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, I’m pleased to report that I haven’t killed anyone yet and that my mood hasn’t suffered too dramatically thus far. (You may want to verify that with my family, though. Sometimes they have some pretty creative interpretations of how “moody” mom is. They can be so sensitive.)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think it’s safe to say that no one is more surprised about this than me. I fully expected this to be a bear of a task, but in reality, it hasn’t been that bad. Yes, I have my cravings. And yes, the cake in our office kitchen that just happened to come from the bakery voted Best in Pittsburgh actively calls my name every minute I’m in the office. But this is a higher calling, and so far, I’ve been good.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, what have I eliminated on this sugar fast?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Desserts and sweet treats of all kinds (cakes, cookies, ice cream, muffins, pastries, chocolate, candy, etc.)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cereal (including granola)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yogurt (because I refuse to eat the unsweetened stuff)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Granola bars (my favorite mid-morning hunger-buster)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jellies and jams</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Syrup and honey</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fruit juice</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Added sweeteners of any kind—even the 0-calorie ones (they still feed the addiction!)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sodas (actually, I gave this one up a while back)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Barista-style coffees (cappuccinos, lattes, macchiatos, Frappuccinos, etc.)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style="font-size: small;">·</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All sweetened beverages</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigra_UMkcEP2xLf_IX5Q9hBhN_e7_ZrSbn31FzvvtefzSbmvM35QM0lGGiERJx8k937MPp2oZ92iHhce050pJv0upm16Im2aMk903zpOk6Xr86g7AgZFD9E4tK6WZsyqNBRI3RjTGRGe_b/s1600/WP_20140320_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigra_UMkcEP2xLf_IX5Q9hBhN_e7_ZrSbn31FzvvtefzSbmvM35QM0lGGiERJx8k937MPp2oZ92iHhce050pJv0upm16Im2aMk903zpOk6Xr86g7AgZFD9E4tK6WZsyqNBRI3RjTGRGe_b/s1600/WP_20140320_001.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Basically, if an item has obvious sugar added, I don’t eat or drink it. I say “obvious” sugar because I am well aware that things like breads and pastas include sugar as essential ingredients, but I haven’t given up all carbs because if I did somebody just might get hurt.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I also say “added” sugar because I am allowing myself the naturally-occurring sugars in fruit. I’m not a big fan of eating plans that eliminate entire food groups, and I think fruit is too critical to avoid altogether due to its high antioxidant and fiber content, so I refuse to eliminate it.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Admittedly, fruit has been my saving grace. When I need a little something sweet, I open the fruit drawer. When I crave a dessert after dinner, I have a banana. When I really need a piece of chocolate, I pop a <a href="http://www.food.com/recipe/coconut-date-rolls-332742?fb_action_ids=10152031125113107&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_ref=recipe-332742&fb_source=aggregation&fb_aggregation_id=288381481237582" target="_blank">date ball</a> in my mouth.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMSSHYIEmbwlmreBmvnY5caXlmnFcxd3zYNeEeCKYGC_3qV9k8cmUJCFQUHCBIwupAK98U_IAMQ0Y9tLAuTgSp-uYJanI6YyqK7TsGQsCsDpBd-tcULv6WgY48Gi6AK_ZIhjhbbCwYR9x/s1600/WP_20140320_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMSSHYIEmbwlmreBmvnY5caXlmnFcxd3zYNeEeCKYGC_3qV9k8cmUJCFQUHCBIwupAK98U_IAMQ0Y9tLAuTgSp-uYJanI6YyqK7TsGQsCsDpBd-tcULv6WgY48Gi6AK_ZIhjhbbCwYR9x/s1600/WP_20140320_002.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> (OMG, these are so amazing. You must try them. I promise, you’ll love them.) I’ve also discovered the joy of figs, which I had never eaten outside of a Newton in all my life. They’re actually quite delicious. (One obvious upside to this new pattern of eating—though not a glamorous one—is my newfound regularity.)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At two weeks into this experiment, I’ve found that my cravings have already shifted from chocolate and baked goods to figs and dates—the “candy” of the ancient world, as my brother says. Even on Sundays, when we Catholics are technically allowed to forego our Lenten sacrifices, I find myself avoiding sugar—not out of any sense of pious obligation, but simply because I don’t want it. This in itself I count as a huge win.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So that’s my nickel update. I’ll check in on this topic again at the end of this journey. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy munching my clementine and sipping my pomegranate tea while my coworkers dig into the cake.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have a sweet day!</span></span></span></div>
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Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-83001355504915772702014-03-04T22:28:00.000-05:002014-03-04T22:28:07.440-05:00What Are You Gaining for Lent?<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, when
Christians are encouraged to reflect upon Christ’s 40-day fast in the desert
and prepare for his death and resurrection during Holy Week through sacrifice,
almsgiving, and prayer. Even if you aren’t a Christian, you’re likely familiar
with the concept. When we were kids, “What are you giving up for Lent?” was as
common a question at this time of year as, “Are you buying or packing?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite the solemn and deeply spiritual nature of Lent, I
have to admit, I often use Lent for my own selfish purposes—a convenient
vehicle for dropping a few pounds or getting a jumpstart on a manuscript with
promises of daily writing and the shunning of such time sucks as TV and
Facebook. Though the actions fit the basic qualifications of Lenten sacrifices,
the spirit behind them wasn’t exactly deep or prayerful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not going to fool you into thinking that I’ve had some
great epiphany this year that has led me to do a daily Bible study or fast on
only bread and water for the entire 40 days, but I have given a bit more
thought to the season of Lent and how I might mark it in a more meaningful way.
And while my choices in part do have something of a self-serving nature, I
think they will ultimately help make me a better person and strengthen me spiritually.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So what did I decide to “give up?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First, let me start with two things I’ve decided to add.
First, I plan to begin each day with the practice of yoga and prayerful
meditation. This will help bring my mind, body, and spirit into alignment,
which will ultimately help me set my daily priorities, cast off my daily
worries, and begin each day refreshed and renewed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Second, I’ve decided to give more selflessly of my time. Specifically,
I plan to volunteer both at my home parish and at the kids’ school parish at
their weekly fish fries. It’s something I’ve often considered but vetoed
because “we’re just too busy.” But in reality, there’s no reason I can’t give a
few hours on a Friday. The kids have no activities, we have no place else we
need to be. And so I’ll wait tables or wash dishes or do whatever they need,
supporting their efforts and being more selfless with my most precious gift—time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, I am, indeed, giving something up. Sugar. This is
as enormous a fast as I can imagine for myself, as I am a sugar junkie. I crave
it constantly. I eat it for breakfast in my yogurt and granola parfaits, I
drink it between meals in my lattes and fruit juice spritzers, I munch it for
my evening dessert and my between-meal snacks. No more. I plan to detox my body
of this drug to make room for more healthful choices in order to preserve my
second most precious gift—my health.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I know this will be an incredible challenge for me, I’m
not focusing so much on what I’m giving up as what I’ll be gaining this Lent.
Health. Balance. Spiritual well-being. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, do you observe Lent? If so, how do you plan to mark this solemn season? </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-77038064194240236242014-02-23T14:09:00.000-05:002014-02-23T14:09:18.871-05:00Winter's Last Hurrah<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I might be one of the few Pittsburghers not embracing the
impending thaw with wistful thoughts of spring. I know I’m freakish in this
respect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It has been a long, cold winter, peppered with snow days, two-hour
delays, and polar vortices marching down from the Arctic in an unending parade
of Jetstream mayhem. We haven’t seen the boxwoods lining our driveway in weeks,
piled over with mound upon mound of dirty, slushy snow, now a couple feet deep.
My husband drove into a snowbank the other day to avoid a multi-car collision
on his way to work and only got going again due to a determined Good Samaritan.
We’re running out of salt, running out of clear parking places, and running out
of patience for the cold—and all the fluffy white stuff that goes with it.</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I get it. It hasn’t been fun.</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vcbcSgiu_EgAaqJ6BGWiaU_5IVMvoTDYOB9MhhPy3GstKOm-cXupj2qzmwkv6go-syle1PzC5ESGAhN5MJ1hpvK5AlDIA4y10aLVmTupV1HkRxoTS-55F60fDyrqiEIbUyMyI1k5-3bM/s1600/WP_20140218_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vcbcSgiu_EgAaqJ6BGWiaU_5IVMvoTDYOB9MhhPy3GstKOm-cXupj2qzmwkv6go-syle1PzC5ESGAhN5MJ1hpvK5AlDIA4y10aLVmTupV1HkRxoTS-55F60fDyrqiEIbUyMyI1k5-3bM/s1600/WP_20140218_002.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But whoever coined the phrase “the lazy days of summer” obviously
didn’t own a home in the suburbs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Weeding. Cutting. Fertilizing. Planting. Mulching. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It seems once the warm weather breaks, all hopes of a lazy weekend
curled up with a book and a cup of coffee break with it, replaced by a sort of
implied obligation to beautify the yard, or at least keep it from looking like
the overgrown, rundown drug hovels you see on the evening news. </span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the winter, you can neglect the mess outside. When it’s not
hidden by the snow, it’s at least brown and dormant, not causing any real
trouble, not looking any worse than anyone else’s brown, dormant patch of the
world. No one notices the stray weeds around the edges of the beds that you
didn’t pluck last fall or the sparse mulch coverage around the new trees you
planted last spring. They’re too busy grumbling about the ice and snow you
haven’t removed from the sidewalk (okay, so you do have to do a little
something in winter).</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But once spring hits, it’s as if a veil is lifted. Suddenly our
homes and yards reveal themselves in all their shabby, neglected glory, and we
feel a sort of collective urge to roll up our sleeves and get to work, to make
our yards look like something akin to the Biltmore grounds (or, at the very
least, better than the yards on either side of us). I blame this in no small
measure on the barrage of ads we’ll all start to see in a few short weeks
showing enthusiastic young couples piling sacks of fertilizer and mounds of
colorful flowers onto carts at various home improvement warehouses in an effort
to cultivate the most enviable yard on the block.</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A yard, I might add, that they will then spend the entire spring,
summer, and fall mowing down and throwing away. But I digress. </span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I do enjoy getting out in the warmth and the sunshine, don’t get
me wrong. I love biking, taking walks through my neighborhood, or just watching
my kids run around the yard creating kingdoms and performing quests using only their
imaginations and their friends. I love riding with the car windows down,
blaring Rusted Root and smelling the grass and flowers and freshly-tilled soil
of the farm up the street. I love trips to the zoo, Rita’s frozen custard, hikes
at McConnell’s Mill, and our annual church festival. I’m looking forward to it
all.</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But when the spring thaw hits, I can’t help but think of its
accompanying workload, and the backaches that come with it. And so, rather than
rush to embrace the spring, I plan to curl my hands around another hot cup of
coffee, relishing the fact that we still have another good month before the
yard work begins in earnest. In the meantime, I plan to tackle at least a
couple more crocheting projects, and maybe a novel or two, before my lazy
weekends vanish in the sun. </span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-3488688695080359882013-11-17T17:22:00.001-05:002013-11-17T17:24:37.959-05:00When Good Enough is Good Enough<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I will never again volunteer to be a “room mom.” Don’t get
me wrong, I had a great time the year I volunteered for my son’s Pre-K-3 class,
but it was way too much pressure. I remember frantically attempting to plan the
perfect Halloween party with Martha Stewart-esque crafts and healthy yet
adorable snacks and awesome yet educational games with fun, non-junky prizes. I
just about gave myself a nervous breakdown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I can’t fail these preschoolers!” I said to a friend of
mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She shook her head and said, “You’re thinking about this
all wrong. You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can’t</i> fail these
preschoolers.” I looked at her, puzzled. She said, “You could show up with
microwave popcorn and a bag of sticks and balls and they would have a blast.
They’re preschoolers!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And she was right. I wasn’t the most organized or the most
creative, and none of the crafts we did that year would end up on anyone’s
Pinterest page. But we always had fun. It was an important lesson to learn.
Sometimes good enough is good enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With hundreds of parenting websites, magazines, and blogs
touting the hundreds of ways that you, too, can be an amazing parent and do
amazing things with your amazing kids simply and easily, it makes you feel
rather substandard when you don’t. It’s as if we must all excel, always, at
everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And we pretend to. After all, it’s easy to keep up the ruse
when we can instantly post our finest accomplishments and most beautiful
moments online for all to see. It makes it easy to forget that the vast
majority of moments in other people’s lives are just as ordinary as our own.
And there’s nothing wrong with that. We don’t have to be fabulous all the time.
Are your kids walking out the door in the morning dressed in visibly clean
clothes and carrying lunches that contain at least two of the major food
groups? Great. That’s good enough. You don’t have to form space creatures with
their crackers and grapes or custom-make your daughter’s hair ties to match her
outfits. You can if you want to, but it’s not necessary to be a good parent or
to have happy children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes good enough is good enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">During National Novel Writing Month, I’ve had to embrace
this concept with new ferocity. The exercise of writing quickly and regularly
in order to achieve a word count rather than a quality end product has
challenged me in new ways. I’m currently 19,000 words into what will become a
50,000 word manuscript by the end of the month. Left to my own critical,
self-editing devices, I would have stopped and restarted this manuscript at
least ten times by now, to correct a storyline or weave in some missing
backstory, or to better establish my character from the beginning. All
important things, true, but all things that can wait for the revision process.
But I often allow these concerns to burden my first draft (and, in fact,
prevent it getting written in the first place). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I need to recognize that, on the first draft as with
preschool parties, good enough is often good enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-54586215273417741022013-11-03T21:27:00.002-05:002013-11-03T21:27:14.744-05:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A Necessary Sense of Direction<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve recently been driving my husband mad with the incessant
debate about our housing situation. Should we move or should we add on? If we
add on, how much should we add on? If we move, where should we move? To what
type of neighborhood? In what school district? To what type of house? With how
big of a yard? Or maybe we should build instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s a series of questions I ponder constantly. We love our
neighborhood, but the house is smaller than we’d like and the school district
is lacking. We’ve solved the school district problem by sending our kids to
private school, but do we want to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i>
to do that for the next twelve years? Will we recoup the cost of an addition? Wouldn’t
it be nice to shorten my husband’s commute?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The part of this debate that drives my hubby mad is the
fact that we have no intention of taking any major action on the house front
for at least a couple more years. So why debate the issue now? Because our
future direction will inform our present decisions. If I know that we’re going
to stay in this home long-term, for example, I’ll make different decisions when
we give our master bath a necessary overhaul. Granite instead of laminate. A
tiled shower instead of an acrylic surround. The addition of a window to
brighten up the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I need a similar strong sense of direction when I write. Before
I put one word to paper (or, more accurately, type one word on my laptop), I need
to know who my characters are and where they are going. I need to know their
ultimate destination. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This month, I am participating in <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/"><span style="color: #0563c1;">National Novel Writing Month</span></a>, a movement that
encourages writers to cast of their inner editors and write with abandon for
thirty days. The goal is to end the month with a 50,000 word manuscript.
Granted, writers should have no great expectations for this 50,000 word draft.
It is just that—a draft, and a very rough one at that. But the exercise forces
writers to break out of the habit (one that I embrace) of allowing doubts and
insecurities to hamper production. So often I find myself writing and rewriting
a first chapter dozens of times before ever proceeding on to the rest of the
book. At that rate, I’ll be lucky to finish anything, ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But while NaNoWriMo encourages writers to just write,
without necessarily having a sense of direction, that sense of direction is
something I desperately need. And so I started with an outline—or, more
accurately, a chapter by chapter synopsis. I drafted this synopsis last spring,
and it’s been sitting untouched on my laptop ever since. So I’ve dusted it off
and have been using it as my roadmap through this wild ride of a month. I’m now
at over 7,000 words on day 3—far better off than I would be had I started cold.
(Trust me, I know me. I’d have thrown up my hands in despair by now.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I will see this challenge through to the bitter end,
regardless of what comes over the next four weeks. I need to, for my own
writerly sake. I need to establish this daily habit, to prove to myself that I
can plow forward rather than constantly look back, and that new and exciting
things await me on the literary horizon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As for the house, we’re still debating that issue. Good
thing we aren’t acting on it anytime soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-16940174345898520182013-10-22T20:35:00.000-04:002013-10-22T20:35:46.256-04:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><strong>I’m Back!<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I know, it’s been a long, long time. Over a year, in fact,
for anyone who’s been keeping track. (I only hope I have such loyal fans!) I
know you’re probably wondering what on earth I’ve been up to, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, I’ll start by saying what I haven’t been up to. I
haven’t been finishing any novels, or publishing any new Pulitzer-winning short
story collections. In short, I haven’t achieved my goal of book publication by
40. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sigh.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“What the heck have you been doing with yourself all this
time?” you may ask. The same things you have been doing, no doubt. Living. Doing
“stuff”: running errands, volunteering at school, raising children, cleaning my
house (every once in a while). I’ve also been editing and proofreading for
others while searching for more regular income, which I recently found. And now
that I’m settled into a new, regular, part-time work schedule with both of my
children attending school all day long, five days a week, I’m ready to dive
back into writing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But this time, I’m approaching this writing thing with a
new perspective. This time, I’m not focusing on the destination. This time, I’m
not setting a goal for publication by a certain date, or completion of any
given project by a certain time. I’ve found that I tend to set lofty goals that
only leave me feeling miserable when I fail, once again, to achieve them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Instead, I shall focus on the journey. The process. Writers
write. I’ve read this phrase time and again. They don’t think about writing.
They don’t dream about writing. They don’t talk about writing. They write. And
so shall I.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Even if it only amounts to a couple of scribbled lines in
my journal, I shall write something every day. And every day that I do shall be
a successful writing day. And any day that I don’t (and I’m sure there will be
at least a few) will simply be an opportunity to remind myself to try harder
the next day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m diving back in by participating in National Novel
Writing Month (<a href="http://nanowrimo.org/"><span style="color: #0563c1;">NaNoWriMo</span></a>) in November. Yes,
the goal is to complete a rudimentary novel by the end of the month, which I
realize flies in the face of the proclamation I just made. But the goal of the
month is simply to write every day in order to achieve 50,000 words by month’s
end. I can do that. And I will.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So wish me luck! I will make this writing dream happen, one
way or another, and I will keep you posted on my progress via this blog. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the meantime, I haven’t been completely silent over the
past year. I’ve taken to writing about my quest for a greener life via a series
of guest blogs for </span><a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/08/08/confessions-of-an-eco-evader/"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Mrs.
Green’s World</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. Please check them out, and then follow her
blog so you don’t miss a single one! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-55935161945263110922013-08-08T12:29:00.000-04:002014-04-12T12:58:48.295-04:00Guest Blogs at Mrs. Green's World<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHUCbWjyS0KQhZ69VHWbjl9c6zK3unCwYp_GBPDl3aNEz7OhjCw_-KFtTSs42kJkJuwwLLDwrT_DaJTheTIBnIKFLKCDYrlZ0rgTg8L5sV-TlOo0OKgh9ZljdUqkMyPbX91sUpW5oDjv8/s1600/logo_mrs-green2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHUCbWjyS0KQhZ69VHWbjl9c6zK3unCwYp_GBPDl3aNEz7OhjCw_-KFtTSs42kJkJuwwLLDwrT_DaJTheTIBnIKFLKCDYrlZ0rgTg8L5sV-TlOo0OKgh9ZljdUqkMyPbX91sUpW5oDjv8/s1600/logo_mrs-green2.jpg" /></a>I realize I've been lax in linking my guest blogs at <a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/" target="_blank">Mrs. Green's World</a> <a href="http://www.to/">to</a> my own blog, so here's a comprehensive list to date. Please check them out, and please consider joining in Mrs. Green's mission to create a greener world.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/08/08/confessions-of-an-eco-evader/" target="_blank">Confessions of an Eco-Evader</a>, August 8, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/08/24/applying-and-pouring-and-rinsing-and-brushing-with-chemicals/" target="_blank">Applying and Pouring and Rinsing and Brushing with Chemicals</a>, August 24, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/09/06/the-power-of-the-purge/" target="_blank">The Power of the Purge – 4 Easy Baby Steps!</a> September 6, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/10/11/a-hair-raising-ordeal/" target="_blank">A Hair-raising Ordeal</a> October 11, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/10/24/spiders-really-bug-me/" target="_blank">Spiders Really Bug Me</a> October 24, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/11/07/greener-eating-through-muffins/" target="_blank">Greener Eating through Muffins</a> November 7, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/11/15/math/" target="_blank">Do the Math</a> November 15, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/11/25/hair-raising-ordeal-times-2-lice/" target="_blank">A Hair-Raising Ordeal Times 2—LICE!</a> November 25, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/12/06/sinking-sea-paper/" target="_blank">Sinking in a Sea of Paper</a> December 6, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2013/12/12/hair-today-grey-tomorrow/" target="_blank">Hair Today, Grey Tomorrow</a> December 12, 2013<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/01/17/a-plea-to-disney-rethink-your-not-so-magic-bands/" target="_blank">A Plea to Disney: Rethink Your Not-So-Magic Bands</a> January 17, 2014 <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/02/06/riding-the-soda-stream/" target="_blank">Riding the Soda Stream</a> February 6, 2014<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/03/27/you-cant-judge-a-book-or-a-laundry-detergent-by-its-cover/" target="_blank">You Can’t Judge a Book—or a Laundry Detergent—by its Cover</a> March 27, 2014<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mrsgreensworld.com/2014/04/03/the-sweet-life-sans-sugar/" target="_blank">The Sweet Life—Sans Sugar</a> April 3, 2014<br />
<br />
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-36571266360152748472012-07-08T16:00:00.003-04:002012-08-17T07:43:36.717-04:00Maine Attraction, Part III<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(continued from previous blog)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I roused our group the next morning and persuaded them to take a sight-seeing tour. My father-in-law suggested a drive to Rangeley, halfway between the North Pole and the equator. I didn’t relish the idea of squeezing back into the car, but it was something to do, somewhere to go—and it wouldn’t involve a mass minnow sacrifice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It takes an hour and a half to reach Rangeley from Howard Pond on a route that cuts through the <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state> wilderness. The small town opened up in front of us like an oasis. Sailboats dotted the lake, children frolicked, and parents lounged on the shore. Now this was a vacation spot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We walked the town’s main street, lined with painted clapboard shops peddling ice cream, trinkets, outdoor gear, and culinary delights at the Roadkill Cafe. I browsed through entire shops dedicated to moose paraphernalia—the only sign of any moose I had spotted yet on this trip, mind you. But I refused to purchase one moose souvenir until I had seen the real thing. If <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state> wouldn't deliver me an actual moose, they wouldn't get one cent of my tourist dollars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We strolled for over an hour before the rest of the group decided it was time to move on. My father-in-law wanted to do some more scenic driving before</span> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">heading back for
dinner. We wove through the wilderness again, passing more trees than I thought
still existed in this great country. I don't believe we encountered another
single vehicle on our path. Not surprisingly, we didn't encounter any moose,
either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, cutting
through a clearing the size of a football field, my father-in-law slammed on
the breaks and pointed out his side of the car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Check it out,
over there. A moose!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
I leaned over my
mother-in-law from my hump seat.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Where?” Tall
grass covered the clearing from the road to the woods beyond. Other than that,
I didn’t see a thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Right there.”
Dave pointed out from behind me. I followed his finger with my gaze. Indeed,
there it stood. She (or so I guessed, for the lack of antlers) grazed in the
brush about twenty feet from the road, tall and brown and still. She reminded
me of a cow, the way she chewed the grass as if nothing else in the world was
worth thinking about or noticing. She wasn’t nearly as majestic as I had
imagined, what with the lack of antlers and all. But she was a moose. I stuck
my camera out the window. In those pre-digital days, all I could do was point
and shoot and hope for the best, and so I did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That evening I
curled up on the porch with <i>Death on the Nile </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">and the hummingbirds<i>, </i></span>and the latest addition to my
collection—a stuffed moose wearing an electric blue “Maine” sweatshirt. At home
in my photo box, among hundreds of shots from cities and resorts across the
country, is a picture of green brush with a brown spot the size of a ladybug
that only I know is actually a moose. It’s one of my favorites, and my most
prized souvenir of my communion with nature in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state>.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-11234381396242455022012-06-13T15:53:00.000-04:002012-06-13T15:55:29.885-04:00Maine Attraction, part II<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(continued from previous post)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I passed the first
chilly night snuggled on one of the twin beds in the main room, wrapped in a
smoke-scented wool blanket, serenaded by the low, mournful call of the loons on
the lake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The aroma of
coffee awakened me in the morning. I poured myself a Styrofoam cupful, and
grabbed a chocolate-encrusted donut from a cellophane package on the counter. Ah,
nature. I breakfasted on the porch with the hummingbirds, mentally preparing
for my next adventure. Dave had promised we’d do something that day, so I
needed to get washed and dressed. It was time to brave the lake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did I mention I
don’t swim?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dressed in our
bathing suits and armed with environmentally friendly bath soap, we negotiated
the rocky hillside down to a small inlet in the lake. We stacked our towels on
a rock, and then Dave and Scott swam out to a boulder about fifty feet out. I would
stay in the shallow end, thank you very much. I scooped up some water with a
cup and poured it over my hair. Then I squeezed a dollop of soap onto my head
and rubbed. As I attempted unsuccessfully to generate lather, I glanced down at
my feet. To my horror, approximately one hundred and fifty thousand minnows
swarmed around my ankles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I screamed and
splashed to shore, my hair still clumped up with non-sudsing soap. Dave shot
back from the boulder in an instant and stood at my side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I shuddered.
“There are fish. In the lake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yeah.” He didn’t
even try to hide his smirk. “We're supposed to go fishing in the lake, remember? Where
did you think the fish would be?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He and Scott
exploded with laughter. You would think a ruckus like that would have roused at
least one errant moose from its hiding place and out into the open to make this
trip worthwhile. No such luck. I stomped up to the cabin and finished washing
at the bathroom sink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We walked down the
steep, dirt road to the tiny, clapboard General Store that afternoon while my
in-laws watched the hummingbirds. We needed bait for fishing, since I was still
annoyingly insistent on doing something. I wasn’t likely to see any moose while
fishing, but at least I wouldn’t be looking at hummingbirds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The little shop
was about the size of a convenience store, but not nearly as well-stocked. Some
items were so crusted with dust that I’d swear they had been sitting there
since Dave was a kid. We told the clerk what we needed, and he pointed us to
the refrigerated case. We found the plastic tubs packed with dirt and laced
with fat, pink worms, right next to the Snapple. We bought two (and some
Snapple for the climb) and headed back to the cabin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time we
returned, we were sticky with sweat. Gliding across the cool water sounded like
a good way to spend the afternoon. Dave mentioned a rumor about some
twenty-four inch salmon in the lake. Maybe we could catch one or two for
dinner. My mouth moistened at the thought of fresh-caught, wood-grilled salmon.
The outdoors might have some perks after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I donned a life
vest and we cast off, Dave, Scott and me. We didn't so much glide as churn
across the lake, our motor spewing gasoline fumes in our wake. But when we
dropped anchor, the calmness enveloped us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We returned later
that afternoon sunburned, bored, and fishless. Dave blamed our constant talking
and bumping about the boat for our lack of a catch. Thinking back, it’s a good
thing we didn’t catch anything. None of us would have known how to handle a flailing
twenty-four inch salmon, anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next day, we
opted for a hike around the lake. I had never been hiking, and am not a big fan
of insects or dirt, but hiking seemed as good a way as any to run into the
ever-evasive <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state>
moose. As we left the cabin, Dave plunked a worn baseball cap onto my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You’re going to
want to wear that,” he said. “It’ll keep the ticks out of your hair.” I’m not
sure if he had a genuine concern for my well-being or was just trying to creep
me out, but I spent the entire hike scouring my clothing, hair, and
surroundings for anything sporting more than four legs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In three hours of
hiking, we encountered not one moose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On day three, we
departed for another fishing excursion—on the other end of the lake this time,
for a little variety—equipped with minnows we had caught with a wire trap hung
off the side of the dock. We motored across the lake, and Dave dropped anchor
in a shady inlet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Where are the
minnows?” he asked, preparing his rod as if he did this all the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Right here,”
Scott said. He pulled the minnow trap up from the back of the boat. A mass of
limp minnows clumped at one end of the trap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Tell me you
didn’t drag it behind the boat,” Dave said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scott smirked.
“Whoops.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We emptied the
dead minnows from the trap and returned to the dock. Dave replaced the trap in
the water for another attempt later. When we checked that afternoon, it once
again teamed with happy minnows. Dave dropped the trap back underwater, leaving
the </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">minnows to hang out until after dinner. When we returned that evening, Dave
pulled up the minnow trap revealing six crayfish and a tangle of minnow
skeletons.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA;">I immediately headed
back to the cabin. I’d seen enough carnage for one day. Tomorrow we needed to
do something different. Like shop.</span></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-26858352760219132162012-06-01T13:56:00.000-04:002012-08-17T07:43:12.922-04:00Maine Attraction--part I<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been neglecting my blog, and I feel badly about it. It's been a busy month, with school wrapping up for both of my children and for me. Yes, I've finally completed my MFA after three and a half fulfilling years, and I finished with a bang, if I may say so myself: 4.0 grade average and a Best Thesis Award to add to my resume. *Sigh* </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay, enough basking. In the meantime, I've also begun a new gig as a freelance editor, in addition to attempting to carve out time for revisions on two novels, so needless to say, time has been of the essence. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I hate to ignore my faithful readers. So as an interlude of sorts, I'll be posting some of my graduate school writings over the next couple of weeks for your reading enjoyment. And so, without further ado:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">MAINE</st1:place></st1:state> ATTRACTION (part 1 of 3)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">by <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sue Carr<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyone familiar
with the state of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state>
will tell you that it’s a haven for outdoor enthusiasts. Fishing, hiking,
skiing, canoeing, bird watching, snowmobiling – it’s all there in the unspoiled
majesty of the secluded wilderness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyone familiar
with me will tell you I’m not an outdoorsy girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But when my
husband, Dave, suggested a quiet week at the lakefront cabin where he
vacationed as a child, I didn’t hesitate. After all, I loved watching <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Northern Exposure</i>, and dreamed of
visiting <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alaska</st1:place></st1:state>.
From what I understood of it, <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state>
was a closer, slightly more densely populated version of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Alaska</st1:place></st1:state>. More importantly, I wanted to see a
moose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don’t ask me why a
decidedly non-outdoorsy girl has a thing for moose. Perhaps it’s the manifestation
of a suppressed desire to commune with nature. Perhaps it stems from my love of
our plush honeymoon accommodations at Disney’s Wilderness Lodge, decorated with
carvings of northwest wildlife in the safe, civilized metropolis of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Orlando</st1:place></st1:city>. Or perhaps it’s
sheer marketing prowess. Among the moose accoutrements I’ve been enticed to
purchase over the years are a moose “welcome” sign, moose bedding, even a moose
incense burner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The idea of seeing
a moose in the wild so thrilled me, in fact, that I apparently tuned out any
further description my husband gave of this cabin in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We departed the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Philadelphia</st1:place></st1:city> suburbs
before sunrise in mid-August. The five of us – Dave, his parents, his brother
Scott and me – crammed into my in-laws’ early-90’s Chevy Cavalier for the ten
hour drive. Being the smallest in our party, I took the “hump seat” sandwiched
between my mother-in-law and husband in the back. Not a bad position for the
first five hours or so, but after about seven, my ankles stiffened from trying
not to infringe on anyone’s floor space, and my butt ached from hours in a seat
not actually intended for human use. The thought of relaxing by the water at
our lakeside cottage was all that kept me from jamming a heel into my
father-in-law’s back when he passed yet another gas station in his quest to
find gas a couple cents cheaper further up the road while the gas gauge flirted
with “E.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We approached <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state> through the
tumbling green peaks of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New Hampshire</st1:place></st1:state>’s
<st1:place w:st="on">White Mountain</st1:place> range under unblemished skies.
As we neared Howard Pond, we passed signs for the Sunday River Ski Resort. I
daydreamed about our cabin nestled in ski resort country. Maybe there would be
trails leading over to the resort, where we could hit tennis balls or do some
sightseeing. Maybe we could make this a regular thing, summering in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maine</st1:place></st1:state> for several weeks
each year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But we kept
driving farther and farther from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Sunday</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">River</st1:placetype></st1:place>, as signs of life
became scarce. Every few minutes a careening logging truck would practically
blow us off the road like a miniature clown car in a cartoon, but otherwise we
passed no one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally we turned
onto the semi-paved road that snaked sharply upward into the dense woods. As we
turned, we passed a forlorn clapboard structure resting by the side of the
mountain advertising stamps and live bait. This, Dave informed me, was the only
source of essentials for at least ten miles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Surely he was
exaggerating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 36.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The exhausted
Cavalier churned its way up through the forest on an ever-narrowing path. As we
jostled up the road, I gazed at one lovely lake house after another, waiting
for my father-in-law to pull over and announce that we had arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as I thought the car might finally peter
out, he veered into a patch of packed dirt outside a small brown cottage that
resembled a child’s playhouse – and by “resembled” I mean “was approximately
the size of.” This couldn’t be it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 36.95pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pried myself
from the back seat, arched my stiff, aching back, and surveyed our lodgings.
The cabin clung to a steep hillside amid the dappled sunlight of the forest. As
we yanked our bags from the trunk, my mother-in-law pointed out places where
this one twisted his ankle and that one got in trouble for hitting baseballs
into the lake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Built by a friend
of the family back when people still built homes with their own two hands, the
cottage felt like a playhouse even from the inside. The plank walls offered
shelter from the elements, but no insulation (which is why, Dave explained, we
visited in August and not October). The miniature kitchen could comfortably
hold a person and a half. The bedroom with its gray woolen blankets held two
twin beds in an “L.” The living area included a small table, low bookcases
packed with Agatha Christie novels, and padded benches along two walls by the
fireplace that doubled as twin beds. The scent of long-burning wood fires
permeated every fiber of the cabin. I inhaled deeply. It was cute. Cozy. Maybe
it wouldn’t be so bad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dave must have
recognized the pained expression on my face, and pointed me to the bathroom. Thankfully
the cabin had at least this amenity. I shut myself in, thankful for the privacy
even if only for a few minutes. But I couldn’t sit down until I carefully
inspected every crevice and beam for black widows, as anyone should in such
situations. Surprisingly, I found none.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I came out, I
sat by Dave on the bench. “There’s no shower,” I pointed out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Right. I told you
that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You said there
was a pump that brought water up from the lake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yeah, for the
toilet and the sinks. I told you we could bathe in the lake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You said we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could.</i>” I poked him in the shoulder.
“You didn’t say we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had to</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He shrugged and
stood up. “You heard what you wanted to hear.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I followed him
onto the narrow screened porch at the back of the cabin. My bathtub, a.k.a.
Howard Pond, filled the valley before us. The calm pool of blue was more of a
lake than a pond, truth be told. At least half-a-dozen hummingbird feeders
dangled outside, decorating the view like jewels on a necklace. Several of the
tiny birds hovered, sucking the sweet nectar left by our host. In the silence
we could hear the buzz of their wings. I had never seen these delicate birds up
close. When I stood next to the screen, I could feel the almost imperceptible
breeze from their blurred wings. I found myself watching them fly, hover,
drink, back up, fly, hover, drink. This wasn't the wildlife I had come to see,
but they were intriguing. Fly, hover, drink. Fly, hover, drink. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay, maybe not
that intriguing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, the
hummingbirds proved to be the main entertainment. We had no television (not
that there would have been cable anyway), no internet (or anything resembling
electronics aside from the coffee pot), and no cell phone coverage (although we
did have a land-line telephone, the kind with a cord like the one I recently
spotted at the Pittsburgh History Museum). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There weren’t even
any moose grazing nearby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We settled onto
the porch to gaze on the still, blue lake. “So, what should we do?” I asked.
Any vacation I had taken to that point involved the doing of something at any
given moment – sightseeing, dining, amusement park thrill-seeking – at the very
least, shopping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dave smirked.
“This.” He sank further into his chair and sighed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After about
fifteen minutes of glancing from the hummingbirds to my family, waiting for
anyone to do anything, I went inside. I pulled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Murder on the Orient Express</i> from a shelf, curled onto a bench, and
dove in. I could do nothing for one day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-58304613421534345582012-04-30T15:10:00.000-04:002012-04-30T15:10:25.356-04:00My Unplugged Weekend<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This past weekend, I went on a technology fast of sorts. It
wasn’t preplanned, and yet it wasn’t accidental, either. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On a typical weekend in our house, when my little one has
his lay-down after lunch and my older one is either playing the Wii with her
father or playing outside with friends, I bring out the laptop and get to work.
I peruse social media, news sites, entertainment sites, and eventually (hopefully)
do some writing on my work-in-progress du jour. It’s a fairly routine
carbon-copy of the other five days of the week when my daughter is at school
and the house lulls itself into a mid-afternoon sleepiness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But this weekend, when my daughter and I arrived home from a
morning dodging snowflakes and running errands, I decided to let the laptop
sleep. Instead, I decided, I would read a book. And not on my Nook, either,
because I knew if I awoke the Nook, I would be lured onto Twitter and Words
with Friends via my Wi-Fi connection. Nope, instead I cracked open an actual
paper book (<a href="http://tanafrench.com/pagesus/readmore2.htm" target="_blank">The Likeness by TanaFrench</a>, if you’re curious—quite good so far). I read for several hours while my
daughter visited at her grandparents’ house, while our little guy took his
rest, and while the hubby enmeshed himself in a season of hockey on the
Playstation. Such a tranquil way to spend a chilly, gray afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I kept the trend going that evening, and taught myself how
to de-code crocheting instructions for a scarf while watching old episodes of
Northern Exposure on Netflix. I felt so relaxed and decompressed by the time I
went to bed Saturday night that I decided to treat myself to another unplugged
day on Sunday. Ahh, bliss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This morning, after taking my daughter to the bus and
practicing some flexibility-centered yoga, I sat at the computer to catch up on
everything I had missed over the weekend. Interestingly, it wasn’t much. To my
mild surprise, nothing earth-shatteringly important was announced on Facebook over
the weekend that managed to elude my attention. No life-altering tweets went unread.
No time-sensitive updates hit my accounts in Good Reads or Figment. In fact, I barely
missed a beat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In this age of constant information overload, it’s easy to
fall into the trap of thinking we must always be connected to our electronic media
in order to stay relevant, stay in touch, or stay informed. But the truth is,
the world won’t stop spinning if you disconnect for a few days. In fact, if you
do, you may find yourself far better able to deal with everything the world
throws at you when you jump back in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So after a successful and peaceful weekend of truly
connecting with my husband, my children, and my interests outside the “virtual”
world, I’ve decided to make all of my weekends “unplugged.” Who knows, maybe I’ll
actually finish this scarf I’ve started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-85089484574973399772012-04-22T17:14:00.000-04:002012-04-22T17:14:07.087-04:00The Ten Things I’ve Learned from Teaching a Writing Workshop<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As some of you know, I’ve been teaching a writing workshop to 5<sup>th</sup> through 8<sup>th</sup> graders at a local private school. It’s my very last task on the path to earning my Master of Fine Arts degree. Initially, I thought this would be a fun-filled romp through the creative process with eager, motivated students. But my experience thus far has taught me…well…<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Students at this age are often reluctant to voice their enthusiasm for any topic, particularly to the person in “authority” whose job it is to teach it to them. And especially if they happen to be among friends at the time. Let’s face it, most of the time it’s not cool to like school.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Students at this age have no problem expressing their apathy, or complete hatred, for an academic topic—even to a nervous, brandy-new teacher—as discontent is always cooler than enthusiasm.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Students at this age like to eat. If you want them to be creative (and even moderately enthusiastic), feed them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Much like giving instructions to a preschooler, specificity is key. Just like you can’t tell a preschooler to use the potty without including the instructions to a) wipe, b) flush, c) pull up your pants, and d) wash your hands—e) with SOAP—you can’t expect your students to write creatively without some sort of direction. In fact, the more direction you give, the cleaner the results. (Just like with the preschooler.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Even reluctant talkers become chatty when they get on a topic they truly love. I’ve found orcs and zombies to be of particular interest to my group.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Students at this age (or any age, really) aren’t so big on take-home assignments, no matter how fun you make them sound. I allow time at the end of each workshop for in-class writing instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>As a novelist, I had grand plans for my students to chip away at large writing projects during our workshop, crafting characters, settings, and plots over the course of several weeks. Surely they’d be just as interested in creating epic stories as I am! Not so, actually. Short, quick-hit assignments work best.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>When you’re dealing with reluctant writers, throw out the criticisms for the time being. Tell them all the things they’re doing right. You’ll see smiles emerge, chests inflate, and fervor grow.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">9.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Imagination in students at this age is boundless. Encourage them every way you can to unleash it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">10.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Students can be taught to love writing. I didn’t always believe this to be true, but it really is. Teach kids how to have fun with writing and they will respond with gusto.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We’re only halfway through, but already I feel I’ve gleaned a semester’s-worth of knowledge from these students. I can’t wait to see what other discoveries emerge in the coming weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in;"><br />
</div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-66393333050887514302012-04-10T13:54:00.001-04:002012-04-21T10:38:16.083-04:00Parting Thoughts<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Easter weekend is my favorite weekend of the year. Not only does it encapsulate the promise of rebirth and renewal that surrounds us in nature each spring, but it reminds me, more than any other season or event throughout the year, of what awaits me on the other side of this life. Over the course of four consecutive days of services at my church (the Mass of the Last Supper, the Good Friday veneration and adoration, the blessing of Easter foods on Holy Saturday, and of course the glorious Easter Sunday celebration), I am reminded over and over of my personal beliefs regarding death and rebirth. It leads me to think about my own eventual demise in a hopeful and optimistic light.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2Jqd1s-ZjotFzH3yFR0GKNAJHDswLGxt-D57SkrlZSV0mdZe-raNDWMQJGYdAfj8vzOloqa8Lh6Q4U0Q7Z7lF0OogJYby77o02ykjix9IjhO_OPv_Sc5Gf3Ld_n-qUdVfxCSh6izmDWg/s1600/DSC01013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2Jqd1s-ZjotFzH3yFR0GKNAJHDswLGxt-D57SkrlZSV0mdZe-raNDWMQJGYdAfj8vzOloqa8Lh6Q4U0Q7Z7lF0OogJYby77o02ykjix9IjhO_OPv_Sc5Gf3Ld_n-qUdVfxCSh6izmDWg/s320/DSC01013.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That is, until a classmate had me list the things I hope <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>to think about during the last minutes of my life. This creative exercise got me worrying (as many things do). What if, as I’m lying in my bed fighting for those last minutes, instead of thinking fondly of family vacations and the births of my children, I’m wondering if I’ve left the oven on? What if, rather than peacefully tallying my well-made choices, fruitful paths, and accomplished goals, I am instead wondering how I’ll ever find out who will win the current season of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Amazing Race</i>? What if the thoughts in my head at my death are the ones that will remain with me throughout eternity? And what if those thoughts are centered around the tacky nylon track outfit my husband threatened to bury me in if I didn’t stop complaining about my wardrobe? (It hasn’t happened yet, but I assure you, one day it will.) Perhaps, instead of donning the dazzling white vestments of the angels, I’ll be doomed to shlump around eternity in navy blue with gold racing stripes down my arms and legs, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">swish-swish-swishing</i> as I traipse across the clouds as an everlasting tribute to my dissatisfied human self.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t want to lie there, fading in and out of consciousness, concerned that I won’t be meeting my editor’s latest deadline, as if words submitted to a disinterested party should matter more than words spoken to my children, or grandchildren, or husband. Nor do I want to think about the debts I’m leaving behind, and how, in those final minutes, I might be able to do something to earn something to shave some small percentage off the top of the mountain of dollar signs accumulated over a lifetime. I don’t want to think about the things I regret not doing, the chances I didn’t take, the risks that might have paid off, the “what ifs” or “if onlys.” I want only to think of the joy that is, the happiness that was, the glorious forever that awaits.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then I wonder why it is that I taint the vast majority of my day-to-day thoughts with the exact things I pray I won’t think about when I’m dying. <o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here’s to populating our thoughts with the things that really matter, today and every day. (And to making sure my husband never buys me a navy blue track suit. Ever.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-19463737564091094932012-03-30T16:28:00.001-04:002012-03-30T16:34:59.419-04:00Time for a little Mega Millions dreaming...<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, have you purchased your Mega Millions ticket yet? There are only a few hours left to snag a chance at the record-breaking $640 million jackpot. Yep, $640 million. That’s over half a billion dollars, for anyone as mathematically challenged as myself. Half a billion. That’s a frighteningly enormous amount of money. According to a 2008 article in the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/:%20http://www.adn.com/2008/06/14/436999/the-true-cost-of-half-a-billion.html#storylink=cpy">Anchorage DailyNews</a>, that would buy you “179 million Big Macs, 23 million toasters, 12 million tires, 200,000 flat screen TVs, 83,000 sets of diamond earrings or 1,500 houses.” <span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Granted, it still wouldn’t put a dent in our national debt, but t</span>hat’s a freaking lot of Big Macs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;">I started buying Mega Millions tickets several months ago on a whim. Call it a low cost, non-guaranteed investment plan. I buy one ticket per drawing, which amounts to two per week, and I play the same set of numbers that my children selected months ago for every drawing. The dreamer in me hopes we’ll hit one day and be instantly and permanently freed from any and all financial stress in our lives. The pragmatist in me grumbles over the two fewer dollars I have available to add a biscotti to my coffee once a week. (I often wonder which would do me more good.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;">So I bought my two tickets on my Monday grocery run not really paying any attention to the frenzy surrounding the climbing jackpot, and now I’m almost a little scared. Not that I’d actually win or anything—according to experts, I’m more likely to get struck by lightning, eaten by sharks, fatally stung by a bee and elected president all in the same day. But, seriously, could you imagine winning $640 million?</span> <span style="font-size: large;">What a massive responsibility that would be. The mere idea of it is almost crushing. You would have to remain anonymous to avoid being hounded day in and day out, not only by the press, but neighbors, Facebook friends, old roommates, your bridal party that you haven’t talked to in over a decade, the guy at the gym who only ever talks to the hot young chicks…(I know what you’re thinking—I’d never have that problem because I don’t actually exercise. Ever. You’re on to me.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;">But how do you keep a $640 million secret? No matter how hard you try, someone at some point is going to notice that your faded, outdated wardrobe has somehow miraculously been entirely updated, that your tired-looking house is suddenly getting new siding, an addition, fresh landscaping, and has, for some reason, a Dumpster sitting in the driveway filled to the brim with household items that seemed acceptable only a week ago but are now deemed too trashy for human use. Oh, and next to the Dumpster are two shiny new sports cars to replace the rusted out, 100,000+ mile junkers that sat there only the day before. It would be somewhat obvious, I would think.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m not going to spend too much energy worrying about the anonymity strategies I would engage, or how I would convince the neighbors that our refinance proved slightly more profitable than we expected. Instead, I’m going to take a minute to dream of what I would do with all that cash. So here’s my top ten list, in no particular order:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">1.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Pay off all debt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">2.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Secure funds for retirement, education, emergencies, etc., so that our family will never have to worry about money again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">3.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Get everyone in my and my husband’s family out of debt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">4.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Give gobs and gobs of it to charity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">5.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Take my and my husband’s entire families on an all-expense paid trip to Disney World for as long as everyone can get away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">6.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Replace both of our not-so-gently used vehicles.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">7.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Hire a contractor to complete every home improvement project I have ever dreamed up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">8.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Hire a contractor to complete every home improvement project my parents have dreamed up for their house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">9.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Set up a fund that will pay for every vacation we can dream up forever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">10.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Live happily ever after </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="font-size: large;">How about you? What would you do?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-21847380678367381652012-03-09T15:36:00.001-05:002012-03-09T15:57:32.250-05:00How do you know when it’s time to let go?<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I know many people struggle with this question on far bigger issues than the one I’m struggling with now; things like floundering marriages, destructive long-term friendships, or that 80’s haircut that’s just too rockin’ to lose (it’s not, but…well, you know). It’s easy to identify why these things are bad for (you’re fighting all the time, the person makes you feel bad about yourself, it’s likely to land you on What Not to Wear), and yet for any of a plethora of reasons, you hang on. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Often this is seen as a good thing. Tenacity. Perseverance. Stick-to-it-iveness. These are all hailed as admirable traits. Don’t be a quitter, we instruct our children. Never give up. Believe in yourself. Hang in there. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">But sometimes you do indeed have to let go. For your own sanity, heath, fashion sense, whatever. I think I may have reached that point with my first novel.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Garamond;">I started this tome back when my darling second-grader was just learning to talk. The idea came to me while driving past a cemetery one chilly fall night when numerous blue votive candles burned, commemorating loved ones now passed. I shivered at the idea of setting the first scene of a story there—a good, creepy, ghost-story shiver. The book grew from that point. But not in anything close to a linear direction. It branched and weaved, it morphed, expanded and regrouped. It changed direction at least twenty times.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">I remember taking the first chapter (a mere 30 pages of the first draft) to a writer’s retreat, confident that my gift would wow the other attendees and leave them all wondering why they were even bothering with their craft when such natural talent exists in the world. I was informed (politely, but in no uncertain terms) that no middle-schooler would choose to read 30-page chapters rather than play the Wii. At first I felt affronted. Obviously they hadn’t grasped my vision. They hadn’t heard enough of the story. They couldn’t see the big picture. Didn’t they know how long <em>Harry Potter</em> was? </span></div><span style="font-family: Garamond;">But after I stewed for a while, I felt stupid. Of course they were right. How could I not have seen it? What had I been thinking? And so I revised and rewrote, cut and pasted, reworked and reorganized. Feeling proud of the progress I’d made, I sent the manuscript to the editor from the retreat, who liked it, <span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">“</span>But…<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">”</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And so I rewrote again. Feeling proud once again, I submitted again. But fourteen agents didn’t like it enough to request more.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And so, again, I’m revising. And yet, after almost seven years working with this story and these characters, I’m still getting feedback that says my characters aren’t well defined enough, that their story isn’t jumping off the page. I’m now wondering, is it time to let them go? Perhaps I’ve done all I can with this story, with these two middle-school boys and the ghosts that haunt them. Maybe this story is destined to be mine alone, and not one I’ll ever share with the world. Maybe it’s time to lay them to rest just like the many departed souls in the cemetery. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">But, just like a bad relationship or a comfortable haircut, it’s so hard to let them go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-43948368357097778232012-02-23T10:29:00.000-05:002012-02-23T10:29:18.409-05:00Eating the True Self Berry<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">During a freewrite in class the other day, I was reminded of a book I recently read to my daughter in which the main character has access to “true self” berries. When eaten, this miraculous fruit will reveal your true self, stripped of any pretense or deceptive self-image. When the villain of the story partakes of the berry, she turns into a warty toad, the personification of her slimy, detestable personality. The heroine, however, eats the berry to regain her wings and become the fairy she is meant to be. It occurred to me that most—if not all—of us could benefit from this amazing fruit. For how many of us fully recognize our true selves?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">I thought of this story because, during this freewrite exercise, we were asked to meditate and imagine ourselves in a beautiful and peaceful place. I immediately pictured myself in Nova Scotia, sitting on the pier in Pictou, waves lapping at my feet, the clear blue sky arching overhead, and a colorful, bustling fishing village surrounding me. I remember sitting alone on a bench with the breeze tousling my hair, writing in my journal. What I find interesting in remembering this place as a peaceful one, though, is that I wasn’t happy in that moment. In fact, I was crying.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">At that point, I was almost halfway through a 14-day field seminar with other graduate students from Chatham University. The trip was lovely, filled with exploration, natural beauty, and camaraderie. But my husband of almost 14 years (at the time) and my two children (6 and 2 at the time) were 2,000 miles away visiting my in-laws in Florida. And I missed them. Terribly. The sound of two toddlers frolicking behind me on the pier only magnified the hole in my soul at that moment, expanding it to a gulf, an un-crossable canyon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">So how could this moment bring me anything close to peace? Because it was one of those moments that brings life into perfect clarity. During that trip, I had a rare opportunity to focus on me—my writing, my thoughts, my work as an artist—and nothing else. For fourteen days I didn’t have to wipe a face, scrub a toilet, answer an e-mail, or wash anyone else’s clothes. I felt, for the first time in a long, long time, that I could exist independently my traditional roles—mother, wife, daughter—because the people who defined me in those roles weren’t around to define me. I defined myself. It felt empowering.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">And yet, in defining myself, I came to the critical realization that these roles are as integral to me as a heart is to a body. While there is a part of me that is only me—myself, my thoughts and the words I craft from those thoughts—that part of me is empty without those other roles. Who am I without the affection and love of my children? Without the support and guidance of my parents? Without the selfless and seemingly endless love of my husband? Without these influences, these roles, I am an entirely different person, someone other than my true self. And that’s something I would never want to be. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-54064249260012066062012-01-19T10:10:00.000-05:002012-01-19T10:10:34.986-05:00Making Changes<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tis the season to make some changes. Have you noticed? Promises and prompts to change ourselves abound at this time of year. New Year’s resolutions. New year, new you. Out with the old, blah, blah, blah. The quantity of TV ads touting gym memberships, exercise balls, diet plans and workout videos is staggering. Department store ads bombard us with organizational mechanisms to help us finally whip our chaotic hoarding selves in order. Even schools join in, urging us to finally make that career change we’ve always wanted to make but never realized until we saw their ad. How could we not feel inspired?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m jumping on the change bandwagon myself, hauling my lazy bones out of bed a half hour earlier to do daily cardio, purging the sweet treats from the house, rearranging rooms (needless to say, my husband isn’t too excited about this one). But while change is exciting, it’s also difficult. Downright painful, sometimes, as my aching muscles can attest. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A particularly agonizing change I’m working toward right now is the revision of my first novel. You may remember this novel from my frustrated blog posts last summer in which I lamented the obvious poor taste and lack of vision espoused by the more than a dozen editors and agents who never even bothered to request the full manuscript, let alone offer me a six figure multi-book contact. Silly people. Or so I thought. But after a kind yet in-depth critique from my mentor, I came to realize that I had been the silly one. This novel wasn’t ready. It wasn’t even close. And here I was, trying to shove it down the throats of massively overworked agents who had at least fifty other manuscript packages – some good, many not – to slog through along with mine. And there would be another fifty the next day. And the next. When I finally looked at my piece with a more objective eye, I completely understood the many responses I received with the same basic message: “It’s well-written, but I didn’t fall in love with it.” An infuriating response at the time, but one that is becoming clearer to me the more I write. It’s one thing to master the mechanics of writing. It’s entirely another to grab readers, to make them care deeply about your main character, to laugh, to cry, to turn page after page after page. This, alas, is much harder to master. Thankfully, I now have an amazingly talented writing group to help me do just that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My manuscript, originally planned as a young adult novel, is now becoming a middle-grade novel (which, apparently unbeknownst to me, it was all along, except that I never let my word count know). And so the main goal in revising is to cut. Cut the introspection, cut the flowery language, cut long narrative passages, cut, cut, cut. Stephen King said it best, I think, when he compared manuscript revision to slaughtering children (as only he would). Ripping out phrases I worked tirelessly to craft because they don’t fit the character or my target readership is excruciating. They were such lovely phrases, after all. Surely they should be read by someone other than me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But it’s a necessary process. And strangely rewarding. In fact now that I’ve begun, I make it a personal goal to cut X amount of pages from each chapter, and I find I’m merciless in hitting that goal, no matter how many “darlings” I have to sacrifice, because once I’ve slashed a chapter, I immediately see the improvements. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s a painful process, but worth it in the end. As most change is. </span></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-82503658342951360052011-12-13T13:55:00.000-05:002011-12-13T13:55:12.668-05:00Carving Meaning from the Chaos<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8chuQavma3Nazqso0pXl1Rg6uBNBAqNTEYm1psFlJrAgJ5NRCNETeD0pbUbBSF23Jbyjvg6_0f5ui6-nIFWkoOs1REs5sk_k55eqYy1EeSw5Ip0kg3B-IV0cAcO0Hsg15MRkJZEhM3iqw/s1600/DSC00752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8chuQavma3Nazqso0pXl1Rg6uBNBAqNTEYm1psFlJrAgJ5NRCNETeD0pbUbBSF23Jbyjvg6_0f5ui6-nIFWkoOs1REs5sk_k55eqYy1EeSw5Ip0kg3B-IV0cAcO0Hsg15MRkJZEhM3iqw/s320/DSC00752.JPG" width="211" /></a><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My son received a Christmas card today – one of those that talks when you open it, which children love and moms try to inadvertently toss into the trash when said children aren’t looking. But I actually do love this one. It features Linus standing on stage at the Peanuts’ Christmas pageant, and reads, “May there be at least one moment this holiday season when you’re reminded what it’s really all about.” When you open the card, it plays the sound bite where Linus explains to Charlie Brown the true meaning of Christmas, one of my favorite holiday moments.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The card came from a rather unlikely source, which got me thinking. It seems that, regardless of any religious or spiritual bent, once December hits, just about everyone I know starts seeking some greater meaning, something more profound than an extra 40% off of the already low sale prices on cashmere scarves. Have you noticed this? Have you felt it yourself?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Charities abound to give us a financial outlet for this quest for meaning. Presents for Patients. Toys for Tots. Coats for Kids. Children’s hospitals, the Salvation Army, rescue missions. Even my beloved alma mater sent me an online holiday greeting reminding me what a great time of year it is to support scholarship funds at the university. Surely donating funds from our already strained budgets will help fill the void. Right?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If not, we’re bombarded with other, more active, opportunities to get involved and embrace the spirit of the season. Ice skate with Santa. Breakfast with Santa. Brunch with Santa. (Lord, when does that man find time to make any toys?) You can get your Christmas fix at the ballet, the symphony, the theater, your kids’ school or from flash mobs at the mall. Visit railroad displays, light displays, gingerbread house displays. Or partake in the complete spectacle of retail shopping. Early bird specials! Doorbuster savings! Lowest prices of the season! That will get you in the spirit. Right?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Or there’s baking. Who doesn’t melt at the aroma of fresh-baked Christmas cookies, just like mom used to make? Never fear – you have at least 40,000 awesome, delicious, super-simple yet dazzlingly elegant recipes to choose from staring at you from the cover of every magazine in the grocery aisle. Don’t even think you can get away with baking just two or three. Look at that platter of twenty different varieties! Isn’t that lovely? You should totally do that. That will put you in the spirit. Right?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Is it any wonder we have trouble digging the meaning from all this chaos?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Don’t get me wrong, my family does all of this. We give – joyfully – to Toys for Tots, Coats for Kids, and our church’s food collection which my husband and daughter help run every year. We have lunch with Santa, we head downtown to see the gingerbread and Santa displays, we ice skate around the Christmas tree, and we pop in at our beloved alma mater to see their gorgeous international holiday display (though scholarship donations are out – sorry). And I will bake. Lots. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But for me, the true meaning of the season comes not from the activity and the bustle, but from the quiet moments I carve for myself . The evenings when I sit with my cup of eggnog coffee in the soft glow of my tree with two children snuggled beside me watching favorite holiday specials. It’s then that I think about the things that matter most: my husband, children, family, friends. The nativity on my piano. That’s my meaning. What’s yours?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This season, take a few minutes each day, whether it’s in meditation, prayer, or just quiet contemplation, to focus on what’s truly important in your life. And then hold those thoughts with you day in and day out. That’s where you’ll find meaning in the season, and throughout the year. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then take a deep breath and plunge back into the mayhem.</span></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-71399974089255377142011-11-24T15:07:00.000-05:002011-11-24T15:23:45.521-05:00Savoring a Blessed Life<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">First of all, apologies for my lengthy absence. It seems writing a 200-page thesis has a way of forcing you to prioritize tasks, and in the grand scheme of things, blogging takes a back seat to far more critical activities like Brownie meetings and pre-school holiday parties. Particularly since I’ve been reminded recently, by multiple sources and in multiple ways, how fleeting life is and how fast children grow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I read an article recently in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ladies Home Journal</i> titled “<a href="http://www.lhj.com/relationships/family/raising-kids/the-long-goodbye/">The Long Good-Bye</a>,” by <a href="http://www.shewrites.com/profile/MelissaTShultz">Melissa T. Shultz</a>.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> In it, the author details the rapid progression of her son’s life, from the newborn tucked against her chest, to the toddler cutting his first teeth, to the wobbly pre-schooler on his first two-wheeler, to the a teenager texting when he arrives at his destination. In her article, it all happens in the span of about a page and a half. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“‘They grow up too soon,’ everyone told me. Eighteen years later, I finally understand what they meant.’”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Toy Story 3</i> brings this point crashing home to me every time I see it. Watching it the other day with my son, I literally sobbed when Andy passed on his beloved toys to young Molly on his way to college. Because it’s true, they do grow up too fast. I can’t count how many people have said this to me since I had my daughter, but I can tell you it happens almost weekly. At first when I heard those words, I would smile and nod. Then I progressed to a, “Yeah, I know what you mean,” without really meaning it. Then when my little girl got on the bus for the first time in kindergarten, I finally started to understand, at least a little.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My daughter will turn eight at the end of January. Eight. How did that happen? Didn’t we just bring her home? Didn’t we dress her in little sundresses with the ruffles on the butt and sing along with Dora the Explorer only last week? When did she stop napping? And using a sippy? The little girl who used to scribble with crayons now sketches fashion designs at the kitchen table. The cute little munchkin with tiny ponytails on each side of her head that stuck out like Pippi Longstocking’s now wears lipgloss and fingernail polish. She’s graduated from Dumbo’s Flight to Star Tours, from craft projects to math tests, from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Goodnight Moon</i> to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rainbow Fairies</i> chapter book series.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And she will only get bigger. Before I know it, she’ll be a “tween,” more interested in electronics than toys, in primping than playing in the bath, in boys than in her momma. Sigh.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes I think we should concentrate our efforts on our little man instead. The girl is a lost cause. With him, we may still have time to stop this mad progression of growth. With enough coffee, we could stunt him to where he’ll stay my cute little snuggly bear forever and ever, hanging finger paint crafts on my fridge, singing his ABCs, and alerting me when things are “kistusting.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But I know it’s a fantasy. He will grow, just as she is growing. It will happen quickly, in the blink of an eye. And one day we’ll drop them off at college and look back on it all as if it happened in a day, wondering where the time went.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And so today, instead of following my daily routine of looking forward – to how much time I’ll have to write when both kids are in school, to what colleges the kids might choose to attend, to where my husband and I will retire when our home is empty and our schedules free – I’m focusing on the abundant blessings that fill our lives now: the little man sucking on a broken pacifier while he naps; his big sis playing Barbies while watching the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Nightmare Before Christmas</i> with her uncle; my amazing husband of 15 years who is living this adventure with me. I’m savoring this day, this time of my life. And I will strive to do so every day, because this time will never come again, and I know I’ll miss it when it’s gone.</span></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6248588186696776124.post-31853233925043396052011-09-23T14:14:00.000-04:002011-09-23T14:35:03.941-04:00Scheduling Success<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Since my last post (which, I realize, was several weeks ago already), a number of you have asked for an update on my “week of no solitaire” and my new highly scheduled life. I am proud to say that, since posting my last blog, I have wasted not one single moment on solitaire, mahjong, Sudoku, or any other similar time-sucking activities. (Although, you may have guessed from my recent lack of blogging that I neglected to include “write blog” to the schedule. I have since rectified that problem.) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Since instituting this new system, I have achieved record-setting writing productivity – approximately 100 pages of writing over a two-week period. A little over 80 pages of that went into my thesis, with another 8-10 going toward other projects. Whew! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now, granted, the thesis <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed</i> to get done. I had set a deadline with my director, and I was determined to make it, no matter what. Merely sticking to the schedule wouldn’t have cut it. I spent many consecutive late nights typing like a crazy person. But the schedule helped me stay on track during the days and accomplish all the other things that needed to get accomplished at the same time. So, overall, I’d call it a success.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have since added a helpful element to my scheduling: the “to-do” list. Not a novel invention on my part, I know. But up until now I have only utilized to-dos at the very busiest times of my life when I have a million things to get done in a short time and forgetting something could be catastrophic: my wedding; preparing for the births of my children; Christmas; every time my neat-freak brother-in-law comes to visit. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve discovered that these useful little tools, just by the fact of their existence, prompt me to accomplish things I wouldn’t have otherwise. It’s as if writing a list and sticking it on the fridge makes each task mandatory, as opposed to some idea I’m just toying with. I feel obligated to cross items off, and if I don’t, I feel I owe an explanation to myself and others as to why tasks didn’t get done. What could possibly have been more important than washing the insecticide gunk off the windows? Why didn’t I get around to re-potting the fall flowers? And could anything really have been more important than mopping the floors? (Well…)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now that the schedule is in place and my thesis is drafted, it’s time to move forward. The revision schedule starts now: 5-6 revised chapters each week for the next six weeks. At the same time, I’ll be writing personal essays, juvenile poems, and short stories for my independent study. Mix in with that trips to the pumpkin patch, Halloween parties, a quick trip to visit Nana and PopPop, plus the very real possibility that I’ll once again host Thanksgiving, and it’s shaping up to be a busy fall. But I love every minute of it. And with the help of my schedule, everything should get done on time with a relative level of sanity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So what about you? How will you keep yourself sane and organized this fall? </span></div></div>Sue Nelko Carrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03661886605563491017noreply@blogger.com0