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Monthly Archives: February 2014

Social Media Newbie…


In actuality, I didn’t know that Facebook, Twitter, and LinkdIn, and Google Circles, and Tumblr, and. Pinterest, and… All the rest… Were part of Social media. Not a clue. I didn’t know they counted. Until a few days ago.  My husband asked if I would ghost write some updates, blogs, and statuses for his business. I believe it is called, “getting your brand out there”.

I said “ok”. Like it was no big deal. I didn’t want him to know how little I knew about social media. I mean, honestly, I had to be the last person on the planet to be on Twitter.  I was much more comfortable with checking Facebook a few times a day, and calling it good.

did it occur to me that these options could be used for business purposes, and for networking? Nope. (Even though I have about half of my home town friended on my Facebook account. how’s that for networking?) I just thought it was a fun way to catch up with people and see what meaningless recipes were out there.

luckily, this opportunity has fallen in my lap.

i have researched the ins and outs of many different options, making accounts for myself, and engaging in them.

Wanna know what I found?

a fantastic opportunity to chat with purpose. Sharing ideas and resumes and articles and pictures and posts… They have been there all along, but I just discovered it out now. So I’m behind. Sue me. But I am excited.

Now the work begins. I know what my husband does. It is just time to soak up the info and put it into words, articles, and posts. It’s exciting and I am out of my element. Except for one thing: I love meeting people, chatting with them, blogging, and researching. It’s my jam, if you please.

I won’t be an expert for a long time. But I am almost graduated from a newbie. Wish me luck!

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The Stranger


No intro needed…

 

The Stranger.

 

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Share Your World: Week 8


Great questions. And mine are 10k, peace, and in the closet. Just sayin…

 

Share Your World: Week 8.

 
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Posted by on February 27, 2014 in Life

 

Sick Kids Rock…


Yes. I said it. I have a soft spot in my heart for the magic moment when my kids get sick. Now let me clarify… There is a difference between “Mom, I don’t feel good. Can I stay home from school?” And “barf, I just threw up!”

Here is the difference: The whining. THE WHINING!

when said child is not feeling well, all I hear is the reinforcement, in whining voice, that they are sick. In addition to the requests for water, takeout, and wanting the tv shows changed.

But when he/she is truly sick… This is where the magic happens.

My independent child goes QUIET. Quiet, do you hear?  She/he lays in bed or on the sofa and breathes in and out quietly. It becomes my job, nay, my labor of love, to change out barf bowls, bedding, and wash clothes on foreheads.

Now why on earth would this be a positive???

because my kids are teens. And young adults, that’s why. They spend their days cutting the apron strings and letting me know in no uncertain terms that they can “Do it on their own”.  This can make me proud that they do their own chores, laundry, and school work, but they also down play hugs and back rubs given by me. And they certainly stop initiating it.

So. So, I miss it. And for this reason, I selfishly love that they need me again. Gone is the need to push me away a bit. And in its place is an attitude of gratitude. They accept hugs and even kisses on the forehead. They say thank you for changing the cool wash clothes on their forehead. They are thankful for the medicine and glasses of water, or mugs of tea.

And that is what I love.

So I will take the late nights of staying up with them, and changing of barf bowls. Because what comes with it is the assurance that they still want and need their mom.

🙂

 

 

 

 

My Husband is Not My Prince Charming


While this is not my story, it is my view. I loved it. Amen, sistah.

My Husband is Not My Prince Charming.

 
 

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Help is Out There for 40-and-Older Entrepreneurs


As my kids grow up and out, my mind turns to the question, “Now what?”  My mother was always busy, puttering around the house. She was also a city councilwoman and owned her own newspaper for a bit.  I find myself looking. Looking for the answer to the question, and simply have not found my WHAT, in the question. Yet. But this link could be the next step in the direction.

Help is Out There for 40-and-Older Entrepreneurs.

 
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Posted by on February 25, 2014 in Life

 

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Of grieving, living, and fruit…


It’s February now. I have not been back Home to see mom since dad passed away.  I call her every few days, or at least weekly, but it is all small talk, and we never bring him up.

I cry, without fail, after I hang up with mom, but somehow never allow myself to show sadness to her directly. I usually call my youngest sister within that hour. For whatever reason, I can grieve only with her. She lives close to mom and sees her every day.

I feel jealous, or maybe envious, of her.

Sometimes I feel guilty for being alive when my loved one is gone. I mean, I know he was 73 when he went, and he had a very full life and … Blah, blah, blah…I still just wish I could see him, and talk with him again.

i guess this is grieving, right?

for a while, I didn’t let myself cry. Like it would betray his life. Or his memory, I guess. Like I am supposed to remember only the good. He passed away with family and loved ones surrounding him. He was a good man that left behind a legacy of kindness and service. He was a good chess player and advice giver. Stuff like that.

now I cry when I think of him. Or when I don’t think of him first, but then forget I should be thinking of him. I cried on his birthday, and on Christmas. I will cry on my moms birthday.   I am crying now.

it feels good. To have my eyes leak about him. I don’t fully sob, yet. Let’s be clear about that. When I say I cry, I screw up my face and let the tears come, holding in the sobs for another time. I will cry later, I say.

This is how I grieve. Amid live, I guess. I mean, life goes on.That is cruel, sometimes, that life moves and swirls around tragedy and pain. I still notice that the sun comes up. There is still beauty in the world. My kids still need me. I still eat and sleep and watch the latest episode of Downton Abbey.  And, I still smile.

many things stay the same and are all the sweeter for it. The alarm sounds at 7 a.m. On school days. My husband and I go to Pho on Mondays for lunch. My son sakes for the car, and to stay out late, like clockwork. I can count on those things.

but then there’s the fruit.

odd, but my fruit changed. All of a sudden, and for the first time in my life, our fruit bowl is not full of fresh fruit. It is not arranged with apples, oranges and bananas that get eaten for the first week, and then are left to spoil, only to be thrown out and changed all over.

something as ingrained as fresh fruit has been changed to fruit in a cup. Fruits in cups? Eh… You know what I am saying. Those single servings of mini oranges, mangos, and peaches, all diced and covered in light syrup. Or heavy syrup, if I can find it. (I haven’t found it yet, but am still on the hunt.)

so about 20 fruit cups get deposited every 2 weeks, and are completely devoured, every time.  No one says a word about the change. They just get gobbled up. Why this matters to me is that it is something I have let go of. I don’t know if this is a phase, or it is a new tradition. A tradition of having teens and adults indulge in what is traditionally a kids thing, every day, and fooling ourselves into pretending it is healthy as fresh fruit.

I guess I realize that life is too short to stand on principle alone. Think outside the box, for gosh sakes, at least for a while.  So I coddle my kids when they have food poisoning, instead of leaving them with more room to barf in peace. (They are teens now, I would have figured. They don’t want me smothering them when they are this old.) again, they don’t say a word about it. They just let me in, and coddle me back, I guess. We never speak about what the changes mean, or when they started, but we all know. We all know that when a loved one passes away, some rules just don’t matter.

some customs, and traditions shore us up, but others, like affection and fruit, can be improved upon.

 

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