Fashionably Late

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I come a little late to the party, I know, and especially after promoting the Cherished Blogfest.  Sorry.  Been a crazy last few days.  But I do come bearing gifts.  I brought a bottle of sweet red and some aged sharp cheddar.  Won’t you have some?  I never show up to a party empty handed.  ;)

Grand C, AZ 10, July 2010 Roadtrip

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Well, what is one of my most cherished objects?  I’ve thought long and hard about this and many things come to mind — a little peach stuffed dog with brown ears that my mom got me when I was about 3 to cheer me up when I was very sick (don’t worry, I’ve washed it since), named Peaches, the Wonder Dog.  I’ve cried many a tear into Peaches over the years.  I bought myself a stuffed dog when I was pregnant with Hallie, because the hubs was not very huggable at the time and this piece of fluff named Honey comforted me until my sweet squishy baby came along, and now I’ve been squishing her for the last 15 years.  My trusty laptop that I use 7 days a week is a trusted pal.  If I still had my grandparents’ vintage Royal typewriter, I’m pretty sure that would come in as #2 on my list of cherished objects, but the #1 slot, I’d have to say, belongs to (*drum roll*)…

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My photos.

hallie in her crib laughing

Photos of family.  Photos of friends.  Photos of our many and varied travels by car, ship, plane, train, bus, caravan, horse drawn carriage, etc.  If my house was on fire (God forbid), what would I grab to save if I had a chance after the humans and fur babes were out?  Photos.  Most of these, since 2007, are on flashdrives and I keep them all in the same place so they’re easy to find.  I think I could replace everything else in the house eventually, but my heart would be broken and never to heal if I lost all my many photos.  I cannot tell you how many boxes of photos I have but it’s A LOT!  One day, when I have free time (what the heck is that?!), I will manage to scan all these photos onto flashdrives so I’ll have them all easily accessed and easily portable.  Yeah, many are in the cloud and in different sources of media that I could access from any computer but I don’t have all those baby photos scanned, yet.  And all the old photos of my grandparents, parents, even great grandparents – these are my treasures.

Copy painting bilateral

Daddy and Hallie as baby

Photographs capture a bit of history.  They capture a precious moment in time and that moment is forever preserved, never to age, never to wrinkle (granted you take care of the photos) and all you have to do besides accessing the memory in your mind is to simply gaze upon these shining sweet faces and it takes you back to their childhood, or that cruise you took or that Girl Scout train trip to New Orleans.  You can remember those sweet moments with your dad when he was alive, he was laughing, you were laughing, everybody in the picture has red faces, because they’re all pretty much laughing, trying to catch a breath as they shed a tear and grab their stomachs from the pain of all that belly laughter.  And all it takes is a quick peek at a picture.

GranC & H smiling and holding hands in back yard

Hallie at carnival in racecar

Even those photos of the great grandparents you never met — these can carry you off, also, to places you’ve never seen except in the backgrounds.  The hairstyles make you smile, the curly perms their mom’s must have given them, their little sheet dresses and bare feet, the log cabin standing behind them, the clothes off to the right hanging on the line.  Yes, these are our memories, our history, our loves, and though, many may be bittersweet, the sweet overrules the bitter any day when all you have to do to visit a place in time is to look at a photograph.  And, of course, read a book — that can take you around the world and any spot in time, because they are the best time machines, along with photos.

Silly Rabbit, Ryan Dam, Great Falls, MT, July 2010 Roadtrip

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So, perhaps a bit lengthy and for that I apologize.  I do tend to get carried away and ramble on a bit but I am passionate about my pictures.  Can you tell?

Just a few of those are:

Hallie and Buddy

The Grand Canyon

Mama on one of our travels

Lilly Margaret (Hallie calls her Lilly Marge when she’s in trouble) kissing one of her stuffed animals (Yup, she kisses.  She smiles with her teeth, too!  Multi-talented.  Ha!)

Baby Hallie

Mama and Hallie (my 2 best peeps) and back when Hal had her braces

Daddy and Hallie

Mama and Hallie

Hallie in a race car ride (LOVE that I caught that expression!!!  Priceless.)

Hallie crossing one eye, because she’s multi-talented, too.  Hehe!  The kid ain’t right.

And me and Hallie.  Yeah, me on a bad hair day, but I love those photos of me and my babe.

Enjoy.  ;)  xoxo

 

 

What If…

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“Go for broke. Always try and do too much. Dispense with safety nets. Take a deep breath before you begin talking. Aim for the stars. Keep grinning. Be bloody-minded. Argue with the world. And never forget that writing is as close as we get to keeping a hold on the thousand and one things–childhood, certainties, cities, doubts, dreams, instants, phrases, parents, loves–that go on slipping, like sand, through our fingers.”   ~ Salman Rushdie

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How great would it be if we all lived this way?  To be so free – to live with abandon.  Why do we not all do this?  Why do we not live more for today instead of procrastinating, putting everything off till tomorrow – tomorrow, when I have more money and more free time – tomorrow, after I finish all the more important stuff I have to do today – tomorrow, when my kid is grown and off to college and I have more time for me.  Tomorrow never comes.  Have you begun to realize this?

Aren’t you worth taking a risk?  A leap?  What if?  What if you did that thing and you succeed?  You’ll be rich.  You’ll be famous.  Well, maybe not.  But maybe.  At least you will have done it and you’ll have the happiness of accomplishing that thing and reaching success.  And then you can keep doing that thing, because you’re successful, or keep doing that and other stuff.  Who knows?  You might succeed at more.

What if you fail?  Well, at least you tried.  And trying makes you more successful than not lifting a finger.  You would no longer need to ask, ‘what if?’  Maybe that thing wasn’t meant for you.  Or maybe you need to keep trying or try harder, depending on how much you want it.  Jack Canfield tried – what? – 140 times before he got published?

What if you don’t try?   …

You’ll never know.

Don’t you want to know?

Time is going by in a blink!  Take a risk.  Step up.  Get it done.  Get it out there.  Do that thing that is soooo in your heart to do.  You’re gonna be glad you did.  And maybe you’ll get it done before you’re 101. I’m just sayin’.  Ya ain’t gettin’ no younger.  Remember, tomorrow never comes.  Put in the work today.  15 minutes gets you closer than none.

What are you afraid of?

 

Were I born and you not

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Carol B Sessums:

I hope you enjoy this expression of awesomeness from thefeatheredsleep as much as I did.

Originally posted on thefeatheredsleep:

Were I born and you not

Translation from lost to naught

What steps taken without you

to sinking water’s empty vacuum

you give me words and measure

I climb a syllable in slowly leisure

Without in my frame a glance

Of furtive smile winking

The moon would not glow bright enough

To set me right in this long night

Without you by my side

Other things remain unthinking

You raise the blind you quench the light

You bring me sight and dream

In your long glance and child’s cheek

All else is Ink’s dove to waste

Turning from color in water opaque

View original

Negative People Irk Me

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I’ve been blogging and tweeting for years and I’ve just received the first negative comment ever via a private message.  I guess I should feel thankful as I’ve gone this long not hearing rude remarks from some of the many angry people out there.

He claims I boast and brag based on my last posted quote, saying I was claiming my experience to be the same as Mr. Wodehouse.  Sometimes someone’s thoughts and memories bring up similar thoughts and memories of my own.  I, in no way, mean to ever claim I’ve had the “same” experience as someone else.  They may be similar but I do not compare myself to anyone else.  I like to make connections – connections with other writers (and he claimed that was lame, too), connections with musicians, artists, CEOs, all friggin’ walks of life.  I like to make friends.  I like to hear their stories.  Sometimes, I like to share a story of my own.

I sincerely never meant to brag or boast.  I honestly don’t ever recall ever bragging or boasting, unless it was bragging on my child, as I am her biggest fan, and should be, and if you don’t like it, you can go jump off a…  okay, let me calm down a bit.

If you think I ever brag or boast, please tell me.  Set me straight.  I certainly have nothing to brag about.  My life ain’t all that. We struggle on a daily basis, wonder if we’ll make ends meet from week to week.  But I am rich in love, rich in family, rich in friends, rich in imagination, and gaining richness in forgiveness.  I realize there are angry, evil people out there, where it seems their main goal and ambition is to bring others down.  Well, it pretty much fired me up and pissed me off.  It didn’t get me down, so here you go, douche bag, get a life.  Yeah, you made me angry.  You are an angry, self-absorbed person, since all you did was be the kettle calling me black as you bragged and boasted about all those little details you spewed out about your “accomplishments.”

Remember this:  “An ounce of pretension is worth a pound of manure,” as quoted from Steel Magnolias.  You might be better served to shut your mouth, grow a heart, maybe some compassion and look inside yourself before you start spewing that garbage to someone else.  Oh, I’m not vexed.  Not anymore.  I’ve had my say and I feel better.  I’m too sorry for you to leave any room in my heart for anger or disgust.  Seems to me you need prayers and maybe a darn good spanking rather than my anger.

And to the rest of you, I hope you know how much I appreciate you, your blogs, your friendship, your sharing pieces of your lives with me. Many of you are like members of my family and I claim you all to be part of my family.  So there.  And please, if I ever have bragged or boasted or ever do, please, please tell me.  Because this is never ever my intention.  I still am confused as to where I have bragged or boasted about anything.  Can someone point it out?  And for the d-bag, I’m not including you in this.  You have already had your say and I will hear no more from you.

All my kind friends, sorry for my choice of words, but I’m just being honest here and had to get it out.

When Did You Know You Wanted to be a Writer?

 

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“I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don’t know what I did before that. Just loafed, I suppose.”
P.G. Wodehouse

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From as far back as I can remember, I was a storyteller.  Before I learned to write, I told stories to my dolls and stuffed animals.  I made up songs and sang to them.  They were always entertained, as was I.  These were private stores between just me and my dolls, as I never trusted anyone enough to share my stories/songs with them.

My bio-father heard me in my room talking once and walked down the hall to ask me, “Who are you talking to?”  He sat down on my bed and I felt his eyes burning into my head.

I was deathly afraid of him, as he was never a kind man, to put it nicely.  This was the one and only time in my life he ever showed any interest in me or what I was doing.  “My dolls,” I said with a whisper, because my fear always stole my voice, as I stared at the floor.

“Will you tell me what you were saying?  Were you singing?”

I just sat there, speechless.  Hairs stood on end on the back of my neck and my skin already hurt as I braced myself for what most likely would come next.  He got up from the bed, cussed me, and not too loudly, for once, as he walked away.  Thank GOD!  That was on a good day.

We’d visit my grandparents who lived a state away (where I live now) and they had this awesome magical antique typewriter.  Of course, I didn’t know my letters, yet, but when I henpecked those keys, a magical world opened up to me.  I realized, one day, I’d be able to write down my stories through a treasure like this.  The sound those keys made was sheer bliss.  I cannot even describe how beautiful and melodic the music those keys played.  Still, it’s one of the most angelic musical instruments I’ve ever heard singing in my ears.  I realize it’s not classified as a musical instrument but it should be.

I miss that old Royal.  I don’t know what ever happened to it.  Mama says we (my brother and I) ruined it by clicking too many of the keys together and they stuck.  I have no memory of ever doing this.  I loved that typewriter!  The instrument was broken and had to be thrown out like garbage.  If it were me, I would have buried it like the beloved friend it was.  I would have held a funeral service and told it how it would be missed, how much I desperately loved it.  I would have wept.

I finally learned how to write and make words and it opened another magical portal in my world.  But, my imagination, of course, grew leaps and bounds as I grew older and I’m afraid I was always in trouble at school for daydreaming.  Every single one of my report cards carries the words, “Carol is a bright girl, filled with a great imagination.  She just needs to stop daydreaming and participate in class.”  Yes, I was never really in class.  I was creating worlds.  I was a super hero, saving kids from certain doom, slaying dragons and battling scary harry monsters that lurked in the night.  It was my escape, you see.  It was the one place I was safe.  Safe from the wretched nearly murderous fingers of my bio-father.  Safe from the bruises.  Safe from the sleepy boredom of those monotone teachers who lacked inspiration, though I can offer up one or two that were inspired and fueled my imagination.  Even encouraged me, believe it or not.

The imagination is an awesome thing, isn’t it?  You can fly.  You can perform magic.  You can create worlds, languages, characters, creatures and situations.  The only limit is your own imagination, if you put limits on it.

So tell me, when did you become a writer and/or imagineer?

Taking a Break From Things

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I believe I’ll be taking a break from the “Up to 12 Words Challenges” for a little while.  I am trying to finish this novel and I need to cut out some of my extras for just a little while.  I will post from time to time as the mood strikes me and let you know I’m still alive, see if y’all are still alive, and let you know how things are going.

I will be checking my Facebook Writer Page that you see to your left on a daily basis, since this contest (involving my upcoming book) will be going on every day from July 15 through the 31st, so if you’re participating in the contest, I’ll probably be talking with you each time you submit a name.

So, just a little heads up.  I’ll be checking in at least once a week to post.  This will probably go on through August and maybe a bit longer.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

I wish you all well and talk to you soon…

*smooches*

 

Photo courtesy of shutterstock.com

For Those Attending My Online Event

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For those of you that have Liked my Facebook writer page and clicked “Going” on the Event, I plan on posting images of what the character looks like, or at least a resemblance.  Those images will be on my writer page, so check out the photos and perhaps you can become inspired to come up with a name or names for the character.  2 more days to go and I’m super excited for this party to get started!  Thanks to all who have joined so far!  It’s gonna be fun!