that's what she said...

A little Katie time...

2012-01-27T09:40:00.001-05:00

I love doing photo shoots with seniors.
Even when they're in the middle of January.

There is something about the youthful innocence of a teenage girl.
Ready to embrace the world.
Head strong and determined.
Full of life and promise.
It's an incredible thing to witness.

I spent a cold, dreary January afternoon taking pictures of this lovely girl, watching her laugh self-consciously as I aimed my camera in her direction.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.
"You're already doing it."

Katie's question wasn't any different from the question we all ask every day...

What we don't realize... is that while we're busy wondering what we should do - we're already doing it - beautifully.

I'm a grown up

2012-01-15T09:22:00.003-05:00

I spend a lot of time complaining about my "grown-up" responsibilities.
Paying bills...
Going to work...
Taking care of the house...

As I sat pondering over the drudgery of my "grown-up" life... it occurred to me that when I was a kid I expected that things would be a lot more fun once I didn't have someone telling me what to do.

Then it occurred to me...

Things are more fun now that I don't have someone telling me what to do...

So, to celebrate my grown-up life, I decided to make a quick list of the things that I love most about being an adult:

I can have whatever I want for dinner. I don't have to worry about nutritional value if I don't want to. I can have a bowl of cereal, a root beer float, or an entire bag of cookies if that's what I want to eat. It may not be the healthiest alternative, but who cares? I'm a grown-up.
I can stay up as late as I want any night of the week. If there's something on television that I want to watch, if I get busy surfing the internet or catching up on facebook, it doesn't matter what time is on the clock. Sure, I have to get up and go to work the next morning and I might feel like total crap for the entire day, but who cares? I'm a grown-up.
I can go wherever I want to go. If I decide that I want to go shopping in town, hang out with my friends, go to a concert, or even make the eight hour drive to see the love of my life, I can. Sure, I have to pay for the gas and even risk the random attack of a rogue deer, but who cares? I'm a grown-up.
I can spend an entire day doing nothing at all. If I decide I want to lay around in my jammies, watch cheesy television movies and spend the day being a complete sloth, I can. Sure, the house might be a mess and I might smell like a foot, but who cares? I'm a grown-up.
I have no rules. I can run naked through the house, lay in bed until noon, and spend my extra money on a pair of shoes. There is no one to tell me what I can, or can't, do. There are no boundaries. The world is mine. Sure, I might get a raised eyebrow and people may be suspect that I have completely lost my mind, but who cares? I'm a grown up.

What do you love most about your grown-up life?

When I'm 38...

2012-01-14T13:39:00.000-05:00

If you had asked me when I was 16 years old, "What will your life be like when you're 38?" I would have laughed at you.
Back then, 38 years old would have been even older than what my mother was at the time.
It would have been so far out of my reach of comprehension that the only possible reaction I would have had would be to laugh hysterically.
No way would I have ever been able to imagine being so "old".

If you had asked me when I was 21 years old, "What will your life be like when you're 38?" I would have grinned at you.
Back then, 38 would mean that my children would be grown. I would have envisioned dreams of being a published author, living in a beautiful home, driving a new car and taking lavish vacations.

If you had asked me when I was 30 years old, "What will your life be like when you're 38?" I would have growled at you.
Back then, 38 would have only felt like 8 more years had been added onto my life. That I had managed to accomplish nothing more than get older. That things had only gotten more difficult, not any easier.

If you had asked me when I was 37 years old, "What will your life be like when you're 38?" I would have simply hung my head in defeat.
Back then, 38 would have only been a year away, one step closer to being 40 and a lifetime away from where I would have ever imagined being.
I could have never, not ever, seen the incredible things that would happen.

Life has a way of passing by, slipping through your fingertips like grains of sand.
Days turn into months... months turn into years... years turn into decades....
And, right at the moment when you've given up hope, when you've lost your vision for the future, when you've chalked your entire existence up to nothing more than a wasted effort..
Life has a way of throwing you something so incredible that you can't believe it's even possible for it to be happening to you.

I'm 38. And if you ask me now what my life will be like 10, 20 or even 40 years from now I'll just smile, shrug my shoulders, and tell you that it doesn't matter.
Because whatever life brings, whatever my future might hold...

It will be amazing.

The Heartbeat of Home

2010-06-22T22:19:00.003-04:00

Sometimes I don't fully appreciate the place that I call "home".

For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to go on a bit of a nature walk so I set aside the fact that it was 96 degrees outside and grabbed my camera. I already had the perfect spot in mind, it was a place that I drove past at least twice a week, and while it wasn't the most obscure location it was still ripe with photo opportunities.
I parked my van at this abandoned one room church that sat along a country road that was traveled only by people who knew where they were going. My destination wasn't far from where I parked, but the only way to get there was by walking along the road.
I was familiar enough with the area to know that the locals drive the road well above the posted 40 MPH speed limit sign so when I heard the first car approach I stepped off into the high grass at the edge of the road.
The car slowed to a stop and the automatic window came down.

"Do you need a ride?"
It was a young woman with two young children strapped in car seats in the back of her car.
"No thanks," I said as I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "I'm parked right up the road."

That was the first of ten cars that passed me during the time that I was on the roadside, and each of them stopped to make sure I was okay. Even the old farmer who was hauling a load of hay on his tractor slowed to make sure that I wasn't in distress.

"If you need a phone I got one uptahouse."
"No sir, I'm okay."
"Well then," he reached into a cooler that was strapped to the side of his Massey Ferguson with a bungee cord and pulled out a bottle of water that had stopped being cold sometime around lunch, "take this so you don't get yourself a heat stroke."

I smiled.

This was the place that I called home.
A place where strangers didn't mind stopping to help a woman walking alongside the road.
A place where strangers offered you something to drink on a hot summer day.

Sometimes I forget to appreciate this place that I see every day, and the people I pass as I drive down the road. Today I felt the heartbeat of my small mid-western town.

The heartbeat of home.

Laundry room chaos...

2010-04-21T21:42:00.002-04:00

I got this great deal on a used washer and dryer a couple of years ago.
It was the bargain basement price of FREE, and - well - this sister doesn't turn down free.
There were a couple minor issues with the washer and dryer, but nothing I wasn't willing to live with - especially considering my old washer had decided to spew oil all over my laundry and my old dryer had decided it would rather eat my clothes than dry them....
Ahh..life's rough.

Based on these core facts, it came as no surprise when the appliances were in need of repair.

What did come as a surprise was the fact that it would happen all at once.

Week One:
I get a text message from my brother that says, simply, "dryer is broke."
That brother of mine, he's so detailed in his informative skills....
After a quick inspection, and a visit to repairclinic.com, I had a new heating element on the way.

Week Two: (Part 1)
Just days after having placed the order for the heating element for my dryer I was met with a second laundry catastrophe. My washing machine had for some reason decided that the water was better placed on the floor than in the drainage pipe clearly labeled "WASHER OUT".
Who knew?
A quick inspection alerted me to the fact that the drainage hose had sprung one hell of a leak, and further inspection alerted me to a severely worn place on the agitator belt.
Wanting to preempt any future repairs or shipping expense, I hopped on repairclinic.com and ordered both the replacement belt and the new drainage hose.

Week Two: (Part 2)
After the arrival of my first order for the heating element for my dryer, I hunkered down with my socket wrench to make the repairs. 30 minutes later my dryer was running like a dream...and even getting hot enough to dry the clothes completely.

Week Three: (Part 1)
Upon the arrival of my washing machine replacement parts...I again hunkered down with my socket wrench to begin to disassemble my washer. An hour later, covered in the stench of water that had likely been sitting in the washing machine pump for the last decade, the washer was again running smoothly.

Week Three: (Tonight)
My brother tosses something into the dryer and turns it on. From my desk in the family room I hear this incredible squeal....
Never a good thing.
Looks like I'm making another visit to repairclinic.com

Do over...again....

2010-04-19T11:57:00.003-04:00

I go through these phases....
Sometimes I'm writing hard core, balls to the wall, without any hesitation or reservation.
Other times I come to a full and complete stop.

I suppose you can guess that most recently I've been at a stop.

It was the unexpected message from an internet friend which prompted me to start reevaluating the things I'd been doing with my time.
Essentially, her message was "where the hell have you been?"

I had to stop and ask myself the same question.

I didn't have a good answer.

Wherever the hell I've been doesn't really matter as much as the fact that I'm back. At least for the moment.

Time to get you caught up on the life that is Heather....

You better fasten your seat belt.

Words For Sale

2009-07-21T22:23:00.004-04:00

Lately I feel as if I've turned into a bit of a word prostitute...selling them off for a few dollars at a time until the dollars add up to something good.

If you're one that follows the articles I post on Associated Content, then you've probably noticed that the subject matter of my recent articles is a bit off from my normal gig.

I mean common?

Me?

Writing about bed wetting and toilet training?

There would have to be some reason that I had chosen this subject matter for the crazy collection that has been recently published.

There is a reason.

Dollars.

Writers aren't a whole lot different from artists...

Most of us are starving...

Only a few of us ever get noticed...

And that's only after we're dead.

As I wrote that just now I started thinking...

What if, years from now, long after my bones have turned to ash, someone decides to do a bit of snooping into my portfolio of work?

I have turned my legacy into a collection of articles highlighting the joys of excrement.

Wonderful.

Of course in a perfect world I'd be one of the featured authors in Oprah's Book Club and would spend my days lounging on the deck with my handy laptop. Sadly, my world has yet to reach that stage of perfection just yet...so I bide my time hooking out my talent 450 words at a time.

It's a hard knock life...

But one day, when I'm hanging out by the pool in my $1.7 million dollar house overlooking the ocean in Hawaii - I'll drop you a post and let you know how I'm doing on my tan.

Saving Pennies

2009-07-09T22:23:00.003-04:00

My daughter stood in the doorway holding a handful of money.

"This is what I've made so far."

She passed me the stack of twenties and I counted them out.

"$240," I smiled at her. "I'm impressed."

"And I get paid again tomorrow," she grinned. "That'll bring me up to $300."

"You're doing a fantastic job."

She trotted off with her wad of bills in hand.

She's spent the last five weeks, her entire summer vacation so far, babysitting for the kids across the street. It wasn't exactly how she had wanted to spend her summer, but the bait of making a few dollars was to much to resist.

"So what are you going to spend your money on?" my mother asked her after she found out about her summertime gig.

"A car."

My mother laughed at her answer, but was quickly met with the determined stare of my 15-year-old daughter.

"I'm serious. I want to buy a car next summer when I get my driver's license."

My mother assured her that she had plenty of time to save money for a car, but she held firm to her original answer. Every penny she earned from her babysitting job would be stashed away for a car.

It was a lesson she had learned from her brother, who, after he turned 16 worked for an entire summer to be able to save enough money to buy his first car. She watched him scrape together every last cent he had so that he could purchase the $1500 car from the local car lot.

That summer her brother taught her a valuable lesson about money:

If you want to buy something, you have to save your pennies to be able to get it.

That summer also reinforced an important "mom rule":

If you want to have your own car, you have to buy it yourself.

"So if I start saving my money early," she said during that same summer, "then I can buy a nicer car, right?"

"That's how it works."

Now we'll just have to see exactly how dedicated she is to achieving her goal.

American Pride...Small Town Style

2009-07-08T19:17:00.004-04:00

The claim to fame for the small town where I live is that it's the site of the oldest consecutive 4th of July celebration.

Forget the east coast towns of our founding fathers, instead a tiny little town tucked in the midwest lays claim to the fact that through times of peace and times of war, through times of economic hardship and times of booming success they have always come together to celebrate the national holiday.

Here are some scenes from this years 4th of July Parade...a little American Pride...Small Town Style!

Matty enjoying some sucker goodness! Nothing like some candy first thing in the morning!

Lily showing some American Pride with her tiny flag!

To see more photos....click here!

You better not be sexting!

2009-06-29T18:47:00.004-04:00

Becoming the Teen Issues Examiner has definitely opened my eyes to a lot of things that, as a parent, I'd rather stay blind to. Not that I didn't realize that these things existed...but more because when you have the statistics to back up the issues then it makes it really hard to say "not my kid".

A recent piece that I did about "sexting" pointed to the fact that, in spite of all the media coverage, one out of five teenagers admits to sending or receiving a text message that would fall under the category of "sexting".

I read over the report, my mouth hanging open, wondering what in the world was going on. First you have kids sending nude photos through their cell phones, then you have those same children being charged with sex offenses and being forced to add their names to sex offender registries, and then you have the same demographic admitting to the fact that they are still engaging in these behaviors.

What in the world?

I yelled out to my teenage daughter who was in the next room.

"What are you doing?"

She appeared in the doorway holding her cellphone.

"What do you think I'm doing?" She held up the phone to display a message she was in the process of sending.

"You better not be sexting."

"Eww, mom." She said as she turned back into the kitchen, "That's just nasty."

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief...

Then made the mental note to keep a closer eye on her texting habits.

Being the parent of a teenager is hard work...

Rebuilding Frankenstein

2009-06-27T10:40:00.003-04:00

About a week ago my computer started acting a little hinky...

Not in the mood to mess with diagnosing the real "problem", and confident that with the laptop as a backup I wouldn't suffer any serious withdrawl symptoms, I decided that I would just format my harddrive and start over.

Great plan.

Now don't get me wrong, sometimes the only choice is to just start from the beginning, but in this case reformatting the drive didn't fix anything since my problem was hardware related and not software related.

Anyway...that's besides the point.

So, for the last week I've been sitting here, my computer functional but essentially naked.

The first thing that struck me was my programs list...which had once stretched across three columns of my monitor. In an instant, it was reduced to only the basic choices offered by Windows.

The next thing...and most disturbing...were my gadgets.

I have a lot of gadgets, and every one of them has a USB cable connected to my computer.

There are so many USB cables attached to my computer that my desk resembles some kind of Frankenstein experiment.

We're talking an absurd number of gadgets...so many that when my son asked me what I wanted for Christmas last year my reply was: "A 7-port USB hub, please."

Oh yeah folks, I have a problem. And seconds after re-booting my computer after my brilliant plan to reformat my drive, I realized that my problem was biting me right in the butt.

A series of rather irritating Windows prompts began to display on my screen:

"Unknown hardware found"

For every single gadget that came with a cable there was a disk somewhere that held the necessary software for my computer to know what it was...

That's a lot of disks...

Cause there are a lot of cables...

Cause I have lots of gadgets...

So what are my plans for the day?

Rebuilding Frankenstein.

Bring Your Dog to Work Day

2009-06-26T14:17:00.004-04:00

When I first heard that today was "Take Your Dog to Work Day" I knew it would be a great idea for my office.

For one, my office is generally pretty low key on Friday's...
For another, I work with several dog owners...
And most of all, it was an excuse to take my dog to work.

All in all the inaugural event at our office went rather well. There were no fights, and no one got bitten....just plenty of treats and lots and lots of love.

Who knows...
Maybe we'll do it again next year!

(Pictured are: Me, Gemini the Wonder Mutt, Guinness the Super Pooch, and Emily)

Teen Issues?

2009-06-24T21:58:00.005-04:00

When I got the opportunity to write for examiner.com I was excited to take the gig.

After all, if a girl can't have a long list of her own links to pimp out then is she really a girl worth knowing?

I went through their rather lengthy process of review and finally received notification that I was a full fledged examiner. My title? Teen Issues Examiner.

Shouldn't be that difficult. After all, I do have teenagers....and they do have issues....

My first official day "on the job" I decided that I would do a bit of research and find out what kind of information other parents with teenagers were searching for...my first page of googled results were disheartening:

Drug abuse

Underage drinking

Sexual activity

Pregnancy

STD's

Eating disorders

Depression

As I browsed the list of teen "issues" I wondered if I had missed the "no return" policy that followed the final chapter of What to Expect When You're Expecting.

For new parents Google results are filled with pages of the first years of childhood. Your heart is warmed with pictures of sleeping infants and wobbly first steps. Your eyes get teary with images of babies snuggled against their mothers chest or grasping tightly to their fathers finger.

As children grow the images are of them learning to read or drawing pictures with a rainbow of different colors. You smile as you see photos of children learning to ride a bike or catching the school bus on their first day of kindergarten.

Fast forward to the teen years where the images are of some emo looking kid with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, and a piercing stuck in her nose as she stands next to her boyfriend holding a beer in one hand and a bong in the other.

It's just disturbing.

If one were to pick up a copy of any parenting magazine or book it would lead you to believe that it all stopped once they reached age 12. That by the time they were on the cusp of teenager-hood it was all over.

Books and magazines for parents of anyone 13 or older usually come with an appendix for drug and alcohol rehab centers across the US.

It's just sad.

It's no question that there are plenty of dangers that threaten our teenagers, but I firmly believe that their issues go beyond drug addiction or eating disorders:

Gaining self esteem

Building self confidence

Developing good relationships

Finding their first job

Figuring out how to manage money

Learning how to become an adult in a world where they have only known how to be a child...

Maybe if parents were given more information on how to teach these things to their children then the other issues wouldn't even exist.

The Great Outdoors

2009-06-13T12:33:00.002-04:00

My son, after having just graduated, decided that it would be a fun summer adventure to go on a hiking/camping trip with a group of his friends.

I'll admit that I was a bit shocked since my son isn't exactly the outdoors type.

"That's your fault," he insisted when I pointed out the fact that the last time he had been camping was when he was 5 years old.

He wasn't wrong, I'm not much for "roughing it". While I enjoy nature and can appreciate certain nonthreatening forms of wildlife, I'm not a fan of being seperated from the modern conveniences of society....like a toilet.

Regardless of the fact that spending a week in God's country wasn't my idea of a "vacation", I fully supported his desire to go on the adventure. After all, I thought, you're only young once.

"So where are you planning to go?" I asked.

"We're going to hike the Knobstone Trail."

"All of it?"

"Yep."

Even though I'm not well versed on outdoor adventure I still know a thing or two about the Knobstone Trail....

Starting with the fact that it's a 58 mile hike through some fairly rugged terrain.

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

I shook my head in disbelief. No longer was this just a hiking/camping adventure with a group of friends....suddenly it was turning into a script from one of those low budget horror films.

"You saw the movie 'Wrong Turn' right?"

He laughed and nodded his head.

"And 'Friday the 13th'?"

"Yes mom."

"What about 'The Hills Have Eyes'?"

"You're being a downer."

"Parts 1 and 2?"

"Okay mom, I get your point."

"All those people were just going on a camping trip too."

He just shook his head and smiled.

"Just promise me one thing," I said using my serious mom voice. "If you hear a strange noise in the woods, for the love of God, run the other way."

I think as he's packing his camping gear I'm going to stash the video camera in his backpack. At least then when the search party recovers his belongings I'll have a 'Blair Witch' video to remember him by.

Word Shortage

2009-06-12T17:43:00.002-04:00

I go through these phases when I suffer from a shortage of words.

Normally I'll sit at my desk and pray for a quiet moment.

A single solitary moment when the television isn't blaring...

When there isn't a line formed at the doorway with members of my family waiting to talk to me about something...

When there isn't twelve other things that need to be done all at the same time...

Normally those solitary moments are so few and far between that when they finally arrive I have no earthly idea how or what to do with them.

I was sitting at my desk just a few minutes ago. My son was reading in the living room. My daughter had gone to the baseball park to meet up with some friends. The house, for a solitary moment, was silent.

I checked my email.

Still silence...

I visited a few regular sites.

Still silence...

I knitted a bit on the scarf that I'll most probably never wear.

Still silence...

For a single solitary moment, I was bored.

Then a thought occured to me: "You should really use this time to write something."

But what?

I pondered a bit trying to think of something crafty and creative to write about.

I was coming up with nada.

Then another thought occured to me: "It's always easier to write once you start writing."

It seems a bit silly when you think about it...but really it's true. Writing is a lot like cleaning the house, it seems like a daunting task...one that you'll never complete...one that you aren't even sure how to start...but once you start doing it then it suddenly gets a lot easier.

So...

I grabbed my handy dandy tiny computer and relocated myself from the silence and moved outside where I became immediately surrounded by the sounds of people mowing grass and small children playing....

As it turns out, it wasn't a solitary moment of silence that I needed in order to overcome the word shortage...

It was just a change of scenery...

And a small adjustment to my attitude.

Happiness is..

2009-06-08T19:23:00.003-04:00

Sitting outside with my tiny laptop and eating some mixed berry flavored yogurt that I jacked from the fridge.

Don't tell my daughter....she laid claim to the yogurt the moment she slipped it into the grocery cart.

"But mom," she said with her patented eyelash maneuver, "it's 99% fat free."

As if that made a difference one way or the other.

"Doesn't that mean you'll hate it?" I replied as I maneuvered the cart down past one of the 'under construction' aisles at the local Wal-Mart.

"Well you're always saying that I snack to much, I thought you'd be happy that I chose a healthy snack."

"Then why is there a family size bag of tortilla chips and an extra large jar of salsa in the cart already?"

She snickered and tried to cover her loot with the bags of produce that I had put in the cart.

"To late kiddo, you're busted."

"But mom," she whined softly, "they were calling to me."

I'm certain they were. My daughter's true vice is her obsession with chips and salsa, which she could easily turn into a meal every night of the week. Of course I've lectured about healthy eating habits, not snacking constantly, and about portion control, but she is content to ignore my lectures.

"One day my darling child, you're going to wake up and all of those chips and salsa are going to have landed right on your rear end."

She laughed, the same laugh she uses when she thinks I've made a joke.

"Don't hate me for my metabolism."

"Good word choice."

"I know, huh? That was a smart word."

"Very smart."

"So then I can have the yogurt?"

"You going to put away the chips and salsa?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Didn't think so."

One day maybe she'll find out that I wasn't joking and maybe she'll regret all of the snacking she did during her younger years. In the mean time, while youth and a hyper active metabolism are still on her side, I think I'll just let her enjoy it.

"Everything"

2009-06-07T11:23:00.003-04:00

The culmination of 18 years came last night as I watched my first born child accept his high school diploma.

I'm not generally an emotional person.
I don't get teary-eyed at weddings.
I don't get mushy when I hold a new baby.

But as I watched my little boy walk down that aisle wearing his cap and gown, a part of me melted.

At the same time that my face erupted in a giant smile, my eyes filled with tears of joy.
I was overcome with a sense of pride. The kind of pride you feel when you see the child you have raised accomplish one of life's many milestones.

He smiled, the way he smiles when he's really happy.

"I'm finally done."

"Now that high school is over, what are you going to do next?"

"Everything."

At this very moment, the entire world awaits the little boy I once held in my arms.

Nothing could make a mother more proud.

Creative

2009-05-29T22:15:00.003-04:00

The idea was for me to spend some time tonight being creative.

So far it isn't working well for me.

It seems that every single spare moment, along with a few non-spare moments, have been spent working on the garden project. At this point I'm not really sure you could call it a "project"...it's more like an "entity".

There are points when something which starts off small gets so large that you seem to lose control of it. At that point it loses project status...and takes on a life of its own.

That's what happened to the garden.

Physically: I'm exhausted.
Mentally: I'm exhausted.
Totally: I'm exhausted.

Whoever said that gardening was a relaxing hobby must have been referring to the fact that after spending all your time gardening you're so totally wiped out that the only thing you can do effectively is sleep.

For a week.

In the midst of all the gardening insanity, my creative energy has been allowed to go into a dormant state.

Tonight I was supposed to try to wake it up...

I'm not sure I have the energy to write a grocery list let alone come up with a compelling topic for the short story I was supposed to have written by May 31....which according to my calendar is only two days away.

On the plus side....

I have one hell of a garden.

Gardening Anyone?

2009-05-13T12:03:00.004-04:00

I've never been much of a gardener...
In fact, the only thing I've ever successfully been able to grow has been the mass collection of weeds scattered throughout my yard. Thank God for the people who owned the house before me...otherwise I'd have nothing in my yard but dandelions and crabgrass.
But I'm no quitter...

When I got the idea to convert my backyard into a peaceful zen-like place where we could go to socialize or just relax, I counted heavily on my master Googling abilities to help me out. Surely amidst the vastness of the Internet I'd be able to track down something that would help me in my quest to create the perfect garden (free of any species of weed).

I did.

After about 437 hours worth of research, and an equal number of hours spent digging, raking, planting and mulching, I've begun the process of creating my perfect garden...

Here is the first glimpse:
Now I realize that it's not likely going to make the pages of the next issue of Better Homes & Gardens...but for me, this is one heck of a start....

Now the question is....do I have enough energy to keep going?

Thinking Positive...

2009-05-02T23:28:00.003-04:00

Lately it's become my endeavor to think more positively...

In case you weren't already aware, I'm a bit of a cynic...which makes the whole positive thing a little difficult for me.

But, as well as being a chronic cynic, I'm also not known for my ability to give up on anything I set my mind to do. While previously this may have lead to me being seen as stubborn or hard headed, I'm hoping that I can put a more positive spin on it.

I first became involved with studying the Law of Attraction through what some might call total accident. Until that point, I was familiar with the book The Secret, and vaguely familiar with the principles in which it spoke. It was on the short list of books that I intended to pick up, yet for some reason never did. Perhaps I was unwilling to buy into the hype surrounding the book, or perhaps I was just too lazy to actually drive to the book store. Regardless, I had put it off.

Then, sometime later, I read a post on a message board which spoke about the Law of Attraction. My curiosity started to get the better of me, and I began to dig a little deeper.

For months I had been consciously telling myself that I needed to change. That somehow, in some way, I needed to become a different - better - person. That my old habits were doing me no favors, that I was reaching an age where it was time to get my butt in gear or risk losing the few golden opportunities that I had left. Then, accidentally, I stumbled upon words which made total sense to me.

Basically, in their simplest form, the words were this:

What goes around, comes around.

It seems funny to type that out. I mean come on, could I be anymore cliche with my major revelation about life? But that is essentially what the Law of Attraction says - that whatever energy you produce will attract like energy.

If you feel like you're broke....you're broke.
If you feel like you're surrounded by butt heads....then you're surrounded by butt heads.
If you feel like your life is doing a quick swirlie down into toilet bowl hell....well grab a snorkel, cause that's exactly where you're headed.

The point is that if you think it, if you feel it, then it is. Simple as that.

I read the words, then read them again, nodding my head in agreement.

Yep, I was broke.
Yep, butt heads everywhere.
Yep, where'd I put that snorkel anyway?

So if I thought all of these things....and they were indeed the reality I was experiencing. Then what might happen if I started to change the way that I thought?

What if I could change my outlook to reflect the way I envisioned my life being?

And there begins the journey I'm now on...to use the Law of Attraction to work in the ways I want it to work, and attract the things that I would like to attract....

I'll let you know how it goes.

Sunsets

2009-04-24T20:50:00.002-04:00

Sunsets are probably my favorite part of the day.

From my desk I can look out the back door over the hillside and watch as the sun disappears every evening. Some nights the sky is shades of red and gold, other nights it becomes wild shades of purple. Every night it's a masterpiece.

This was the view from this evening...probably just a minute or two later than when I would have liked to have taken it.

The sky was alive and vibrant, and the light reflecting from the clouds made them look as if they had been painted directly onto a canvas and hung in the sky. It was magical perfection, exactly the way the universe intended it to be.

I watched the sun as it continued its retreat behind the hillside and as another day came to an end....and I smiled.

Signs of Spring

2009-04-24T15:47:00.005-04:00

The official mark of a new Spring is when the lilac bush in my back yard begins to bloom.

Wow...

There's no better smell in the world!

After I posted these pictures it made me remember one that I took about 10 years ago when the same lilac bush was in bloom.

She was so little back then...
So sweet...
So adorable...
But every bit as loud as she is today.

Warning!

2009-04-22T23:21:00.002-04:00

Oh the land that is Heather is never a dull place to be. There is always some crisis or some drama that is worthy of a soap opera....today was no different.

The text message was simple: "I'm dead."

Well, considering the fact that my daughter actually had full use of her digits and was able to send a text message, I was pretty certain that she was slightly over exaggerating her situation.

However, the fact that she sent the text message to her father instead of to me lent to the fact that she was of the understanding that her life could very well be in some jeopardy.

"Oh crap," I said and flipped open my handy-dandy online planner. "It's time for mid-terms."

Exactly 3 minutes and 32 seconds later the school bus was pulling to a stop in front of our house and I could literally feel my daughter clench when she saw my car already parked in the driveway.

She walked into the backdoor as silently as possible, and without saying a word I held out my hand.

Still speechless she reached into her backpack and pulled out a single sheet of purple paper, placed it into my hand then stepped far outside of my reach.

"It's that bad?" her dad asked standing in the doorway.

From the corner of my eye I could see her nervously chewing on her fingernail and I looked down at the purple piece of paper.

Social Studies - A
Language - A
Tech. Ed. - A
Science - B
Health/PE - A
Journalism - A
Math - D

"You understand that math is a required subject?" I asked calmly.

She nodded, still chewing on her fingernail.

I sought hard for the right words. Should I threaten her? Should I punish her? Should I demand that she try harder? Should I just yell and scream until my face turned 14 shades of red and purple?

In a single second I chose an entirely different approach: rationalization.

"Explain to me," I said, "how it is possible that you can spend countless hours on Myspace chatting with your friends, send more than a thousand text messages every month, and use 400 sheets of paper writing notes to your newest BFF, but you can't seem to find the time to study your math?"

"Cause," she paused briefly, "that stuff is hard."

"Then work harder at it."

"But...." she stammered, "it's really really hard."

"Then ask for help."

"But what if you don't have the answer?"

"Then the giant answer box sitting in the kitchen can be used to help you out."

She looked at me puzzled for a second then smiled as I watched the dim light bulb appear over her head.

"You mean the computer don't you?"

"Yep."

"It does math?"

That does it....
I'm buying that kid a t-shirt that says:
"WARNING: I'm really a blonde"

How much do you love me?

2009-04-17T23:50:00.002-04:00

My 14 year old daughter hovered in the doorway between the kitchen and the family room, trying hard not to look completely obvious.

From the corner of my eye I saw her clearly, and it reminded me of when she was three years old and would try to sneak cookies from the kitchen to her bedroom without being discovered.

Without looking away from my computer monitor I spoke to her.

"Okay kid, what do you want?"

"Huh?" she poked her head around the door and tried to look surprised.

"You're hovering," I said as I turned to look directly at her, "the only time you hover is when you want something."

"But..." she tried hard to come up with some valid excuse but my x-ray smile penetrated her.

"Out with it pumpkin pie."

In an instant her entire mood shifted and she was standing at my side, her head laying on my shoulder.

"Mommy," she asked in the same sweet voice as the three year old with cookies in her pocket, "how much do you love me?"

"Did you do something wrong?"

"Nope," she smiled sweetly and batted her giant eyelashes.

"Is this going to cost me anything?"

"Nope," she snuggled closer to me.

"Do you have cookies in your pocket?"

"What?"

"Never mind," I turned around to face her head on, "what is it that you want."

"I was just wondering...." she paused for a second.

"Wondering what?"

"If I could have a friend over tomorrow night?" she smiled again, this time making sure every tooth in her mouth was visible.

"It means you have to clean up your room." I said and turned back to my computer screen.

"So that's a yes?"

"On the condition that you clean your room."

"YES!" she screamed and ran from the room.

It only took her three hours to clear out the cavernous bedroom heaped with the relics of her childhood.

"Come look!" she announced happily and I followed her down the hall to her room.

"Wow," I was stunned as I looked over her accomplishment. "I didn't know you had a rug in here."

"You like it?" She smiled sweetly and jumped into her freshly made bed.

"I love it," I said and leaned over to kiss her forehead the same way I had done when she was three years old, "but not as much as I love you."

Time Flies...

2009-04-06T16:16:00.002-04:00

It's not the most original of sayings, in fact it's rather cliché, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Time really does fly.

I was 17 years old the day my son was born, and I can remember that day so vividly that it might as well have happened yesterday.
The same way I remember when he said his first words...
Took his first steps...
Rode his bike for the first time...
Went to his first day of school...

Time really does fly.

This past weekend, as I watched my now 18 year old son get dressed for his senior prom I found myself wondering exactly how time managed to go by so quickly. How was it possible that the man standing in front of me was the same little boy that I had once held in my arms?

I couldn't help but smile as I watched him slip on the tuxedo jacket and straighten his tie.

18 years ago I was certain that I'd met the man who would change my life forever...

I was right.

Way back when...

2009-04-01T12:38:00.000-04:00

I began my official writing career way back when I started working for Green Banner Publications.

It was during the summer of 1996 when I saw the ad in the paper announcing that the local newspaper was hiring a pre-press assistant. I had absolutely no idea what a pre-press assistant did, nor did I have any experience which would signify that I would be good for the job. The only thing I did know, was that if I got a job at the newspaper then I might eventually get the opportunity to show them what I could really do.

I filled out the application with a lot of aprehension, and submitted it to the local office the next day. Much to my surprise, I was called in for an interview. Equally to my surprise, I was being interviewed for a newswriters position which had currently come open.

Go me.

I did my little happy dance, and gleefully put in my notice at the local grocery store. I was moving on to bigger and better things, and I was optimistic about the possibilities that it had in store. It wasn't long, February of that same year, that I began writing the weekly column that appeared in our publications.

Those were the "cloud nine" days of my writing career, and in my mind I was doing all of the things I had always dreamed of.

Funny how dreams sometimes get lost in the midst of real life...

In 2000, I gave up writing for the paper so that I could take over the position as Production Manager. It was a far cry from my "dream job", but the hours meant that I could spend more time at home with my children.

The decision was worth making, but in the years since I've missed writing the weekly column that took a peek into the ordinary life of an ordinary person. And in the years since, I've come to realize that writing wasn't just something that I did, it was who I was.

It was from those very humble beginnings, stuck at a tiny desk in a dusty office typing up stories about chili suppers and community events, that I realized what I was meant to do...

Now it's time to do it.

Big Mouth

2008-12-11T23:05:00.000-05:00

I spend most of my time acting like I'm the smartest person in the room.

It isn't hard.

Most of the people I hang around with don't provide a whole lot of competition when it comes to high levels of intelligence.

The truth is that I'm not all that smart.
I just have a lot of opinions and a really big mouth.

There are times when I wish I knew the true value of knowing when to just shut up.
Knowing that I have the knack for saying too much too often, I decided that I should make it one of the things that I work on during the course of the whole re-invention of Heather.

Insert subliminal mother dialogue:
"Just because you're thinking it Heather doesn't mean you should say it out loud."

Yes mom, I know. Lips closed. Tongue bitten. Point taken.

I try not to come off as one of those busy-body-know-it-all types. I don't always offer my opinion. Sometimes I do wait for people to ask for it before I go off on a long winded diatribe about my own life experience or my own theories or my own personal views.
Sometimes.
Not very often.

What I have come to realize, however, is that my own life experience isn't necessarily going to help someone else. What I've come to understand is that my own theories are only relevant to me because I have gone about the tedious process of testing them to see if they hold water or sink like a stone. What I've come to appreciate is that my own personal views are not the same as those of other people, nor would I want them to be.

Essentially, what I've learned is that it's generally a good idea for me to just keep my mouth shut.

Sometimes knowing what you should do - and actually being able to do it - are two totally different things.

For instance:
I know that smoking is bad for me, yet I still smoke more than a pack of cigarettes a day.
I know that I should get more exercise, yet I still insist on sitting at my computer.
I know that I should eat healthy, yet it's impossible to resist peanut M&M's, I don't care who you are.

Knowing that I should learn when to keep my mouth shut doesn't mean that I'll actually do it.

It just gives me something else to work on.

Dusting Off

2008-12-11T12:27:00.000-05:00

There's a problem that comes along with re-inventing yourself into the person you want to be.

How do you know which parts of the old you to leave behind, and which parts to carry forward?

I pondered that very question as I lay in bed last night.
If I were going to be successful at my re-invention, then I couldn't go back to doing the same things the same way I had always done them before. I would have to make a lot of changes, some small, some not so small, in order to reach the point that I wanted to be.

I thought of it as packing up to move across the country. As you stand in the middle of your living room, surrounded by a lifetime worth of crap that you've managed to collect, which things do you choose to take with you?

At first glance my life appeared to be nothing more than a giant pile of crap. On any given day I would tell you that I was literally disgusted with every aspect of my life. What I slowly started to realize was that not everything was horrible, but somehow the good stuff had managed to get tarnished with the crap stuff that had slowly taken over.

If I were going to go about the process of deciding what to take with me, and what to leave behind, then I would have to make sure to give everything a thorough cleaning first just to make sure that I wasn't accidentally throwing out something good.

The voice of my mother infiltrated my thoughts:

"What if we painted it and glued it back together?"

"Why would I want to do that mother? I can get a new one for $19.99."

"But we can fix this up and make it work."

"But by the time I buy the paint and the glue and then sweat over it for hours it will still be the same old piece of crap with a fresh coat of paint, and I'll have spent $23.50."

It was the mock argument with my mother that left me to fall asleep with a smile on my face. As I continue the process of re-invention, I will take the parts of me that make me the person I am, the best parts of me, and leave behind the rest.

Nothing to paint or glue.
Nothing to fix.
Just plenty of dusting off to do.

Effortlessly Happy

2008-12-10T22:27:00.000-05:00

I decided that I would put myself through a bit of an experiment.

Nothing crazy, I'm not into shock therapy or anything, but I was interested in testing some general theories.

I had gotten to a point where I was waking up every morning, dragging myself out of bed, forcing myself to take a shower and then bribing myself to get in the car to go to work. My life, as I saw it, was nothing more than the drudgery of day-to-day. There was no excitement, there was no spark, there was nothing that made my eyes widen with wonderment or glee.

Then, one ordinary evening as I sat at my desk lamenting about the electric bill being due while I simultaneously tried to come up with something semi-original for dinner, I glanced over at my nephew who was busily engaged in excavating a 12 car pile up in the middle of the family room floor.

"Don't worry," he said in a deepened voice, "I'll save you!"

He worked frantically to sort the heap of cars in the middle of the floor and lined them up neatly in a row, only to reenact the mock crash scene all over again.

"Now that kid," I thought to myself, "has one serious imagination."

My four year old nephew didn't have a single thing in his life that even came close to resembling drudgery. Every moment, every action, every event was something new and exciting. It was his simple outlook on life that allowed his imagination to run wild, one minute creating mock crash scenes in the family room, the next minute saving whales from the depths of the bathtub. His mind ran free with every possibility he could dream up.

Most of all, as I watched him playing in the middle of the floor, I realized that he was happy.

Effortlessly happy.

That's when my new theory was born.

If we have X amount of energy per day, and we spend Y amount being negative and miserable then we are left with Z amount to be imaginative.

So then I wondered....

If we have X amount of energy per day, and we spend Y amount being positive and optimistic then what would the difference be for the Z amount?

Now in my original theory - the equation looked exactly the same: X-Y=Z

But after putting the theory into actual practice, what I've discovered is that the equation changes completely.

By changing my outlook from being negative and miserable to being positive and optimistic I don't subtract away from my allotted amount of energy in a day - I increase it - which makes my new equation look like this: X+Y=Z

I won't go so far as to say that it's been easy. My old habits still push me in the direction of being negative and cynical about the simplest of things, but I'm hopeful that with a little practice I'll be able to find that it's just as easy to be positive.

It's all just a part of my process to re-invent myself into a person who is happy.

Effortlessly happy.

Words of Wisdom

2008-12-09T21:38:00.000-05:00

There are moments when one of my children will say something to utterly and completely brilliant that I find myself basking in the sunlight of pride.

It was my teenage son that stood next to me this evening and informed me that he had posted a blog, his first ever, on his myspace page. Initially I would have to say that I was shocked.

My son?
Choosing to express his views and opinions by way of the written word?
Who was this child that stood before me and what had the girl done to him?

He muttered on a bit longer about his post until finally I could contain myself no longer. I whirled around in my chair and quickly pulled up my own myspace account and clicked the link to his page. There it was, clear as day, a blog post written by my oldest child.

I'd put a direct link to the post here, but considering the fact that his page is listed as private, I figured I would just copy and paste the post so that you all could experience the same words of wisdom that I did:

GUYS oh were dumb..............

So over time I have learned that anytime a person of the male persuasion decides to talk to someone of the female persuasion 99.9% of the time the guy is gonna be WRONG about something in that conversation it doesn't matter if we think we are right we never are so STOP trying to win........its real easy to just tell that person of the female persuasion that she is right then arguing about it just to ultimately get proven wrong anyway LOL. To all the guys that read this I hate to tell ya but most girls are just down right smarter because they use there brains and we simply don't most of the time, not are faults just how we are and just how it will be. Oh and girl logic don't try and think you know what a person of the female persuasion is thinking because guys don't! Our logic is different therefore don't try to use it to figure what a girl is thinking because it is WRONG!!!!! lol oh I could probably go on for all I know I prolly left some out but ill get to fixing it up some time lol

Okay, so maybe he needs a few lessons in grammar, and perhaps someone should teach him the importance of line breaks, but the meaning is still very much there.

I read his post the first time, and after recovering from the run-on sentence headache that it induced, I reread it for a second time.

That's my boy.

Some men spend their entire lives trying to figure out the very things that my son has managed to figure out in only 18 years. What a bright kid.

Right now, I'm the proudest mother in the entire world.

Lessons in Time

2008-12-08T22:28:00.000-05:00

Back in elementary school they passed out these little paper disks with numbers all the way around them 1 - 12.

The teacher would then instruct that you punch out two hands, one short and one long, and fasten them to the center of the disk.

"Now class," she would announce, "we're going to learn how to tell time."

That was the easy part.

As you grow beyond your elementary school years you find ways to cut corners when it comes to telling the time. You buy yourself a handy digital clock, and make sure it's one of those fancy kind that syncs itself with the master universal clock so you always have it set to the correct time. You set alarms on your PDA or your cell phone so that not only do you always know what time it is, but you always know when you're supposed to do something important.

We manipulate time twice every year with daylight savings time, and trick ourselves into waking up early by setting the alarm clock by our nightstands 30 minutes fast (unless you have one of those universal sync clocks...and then you're just screwed.)

We are masters of telling time, so why the hell is it so hard to learn how to MANAGE it?

I spent the entire weekend looking at the clock on my computer only to find that entire hours had disappeared. "Where is the time going?" I wrote in my high grade artificial black leather bound journal. I had no clue, only that one moment it was still morning, then in a flash it was time to make dinner, an instant past that it was time to go to bed.

When we lose track of time, we often lose track of the things we had intended to get done.

"Ahh crap, I ran out of time," becomes our patent excuse for all of the things we didn't get finished.

The real truth is that we didn't actually run out of time, we just didn't use the time we had properly. So then how do we learn to make better use of the 24 hours in each day that we are given?

Well, if you're particularly anal then you would follow the teachings of Franklin Covey and buy yourself some over-priced planner that forces you to write down your comings and goings in 15 minute intervals.

If you're not quite to that level of rectal retention then you'll get yourself some fancy personal organizer that allows you to track your most important appointments or meetings with a tiny plastic pencil and then sync it up with the software on your computer so it will send you emails to remind you of the reminder that you'll be receiving when the alarm on your PDA goes off.

If you're one of those people who insists that they have their entire schedule "in their head" then you'll find yourself constantly running late to every place you're expected to be, and going to bed completely exhausted because you spent the day running your ass in circles only to remember the 5 things you wanted to get done but didn't. At which point you'll say "Ahh crap, I ran out of time," right before you drift off into a restless sleep.

Ahh time.
That pesky reminder of all the things we didn't do.
That troublesome foe that gauges how old we are from one passing year to the next.
That unstoppable force that marches forward at regular 60 second intervals for every minute in 60 minute intervals for every hour for every 24 hours of each day for each 365 days of each year of our lives.

As much as we may try to manipulate it and manage it and organize it; it will forever be the one thing which we have no real control.

I could go on and on....
But it seems that for tonight, I've simply run out of time.

First Dates

2008-12-07T10:37:00.001-05:00

He stood in the hallway nervously trying to decide what to wear.

"How about this shirt?"

He held up the same t-shirt that he wore every Wednesday to school.

"I think it's fine honey," I answered.

"How much money do you think I'll need?"

He was trying hard not to smile, not wanting to appear to excited about preparing for his first official date with the girl he'd been smitten with for the last six months, but he was doing a really poor job of it. His hand quickly came to his face to cover the broad grin and he desperately tried to fake a yawn.

"Go with $50, that should give you plenty of money in case you decide to stop to get something to eat."

"This could get expensive," he mumbled, "but it's worth it."

My heart grew large in my chest as I watched the young man in front of me. Only yesterday he had been a little boy playing with action figures in the bay window, now he was playing his first round at being Casanova. It was one of those moments that makes a mother proud, and sad, all at the same time.

"Just have a good time," I reached out and touched his cheek. No longer was it smooth and sleek as it had been when he was a child, instead it was the artificial smoothness of a man who had just finished shaving.

He smiled back at me, his large brown eyes full of hope and excitement, and I realized that the good man I had hoped to raise was now standing right in front of me.

She's a very lucky girl to have him.

In the beginning...

2008-12-06T22:19:00.001-05:00

Life is defined by the limitless number of possibilities we have to start over. This is my attempt at doing just that.

For a great number of years my life was defined by the decisions that I had already made.
Now, almost 18 years later, I've reached a point where I want my life to be defined by the decisions I'm going to be making.

As we reach those milestones where we need to take a look at ourselves and redefine who we are, its necessary to start fresh and new.

Welcome to the beginning of what will eventually become a brand new me.