Author, Wife, Busy Mom, A Woman after God's Heart.

Tag: feelinginspired

What do tweezers and an inspired writing distraction have to do with each other?

I’m often asked where I get ideas for my blogs. Honestly, it is the everyday, mundane occurrences. I welcome the “inspired distraction.” Helps me to be creative.

Today, unbeknownst to myself, I was inspired to write this post because of an interesting incident.

I was at a stop light in the left-turn lane. It was late afternoon, and I was en-route to the grocery stores and my two daughters were with me in the backseat. I was tired, and the ticking sound of the left-turn signal was soothing and hypnotizing when suddenly, my youngest daughter asked me to clarify something. It went like this…

“Momma, what is that lady doing in the car?”

“What lady?” I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road because any moment the light would turn green.

She pointed. “There, next to our car?”

In a car on the right of us, was a woman staring intently into her visor mirror.

My eyes bugged out at what I saw.

Calmly, and without inciting any emotion, I replied. “Well, it looks like she’s plucking hairs from her chin.”

“Eww…!” Was the unison response from the girls.

The light turned green and we inched forward. As the disgusted grumblings continued, I couldn’t help but feel different. In fact, just before I drove off, I noticed that the woman had a booster chair and a baby car seat, both empty. As we turned, the woman sped past us.

I drove and found myself thinking that her beauty regimen was ingenious.

Ingenious? Yes.

Hear me out. You have the visor mirror really close to you (I mean really, what’s it there for?), you don’t need much time to locate and extract those yucky facial hairs, and you can do it anywhere. Even at a stoplight. Better than texting. Plus, you are safely inside a vehicle with the doors locked so no one can bother you.

You can argue and say, why do it on a busy street where people can see you do this private chore? And to this, I say, who cares!

Everyone these days is in a hurry heading somewhere and will forget what they saw…usually. Except me who thinks it was a brilliant move and my daughters who are grossed out.

I’m not suggesting that we should dress, shave, and groom ourselves in our cars. What I’m getting at is that this woman found a moment to use her time efficiently because she may have too much on her plate to think of herself and do these womanly duties. She may have a full or part-time job and juggle motherhood. Even ladies without children can relate: the climb up the career ladder is just as difficult.

So, kudos to the woman plucking her facial hairs. You look like you utilize your time efficiently.

Still, I have a few things to say…

Slow down. Take time for you. Don’t cram everything in one sitting. Your children will appreciate you regardless. Your spouse may have other thoughts, but that’s not my problem. Whatever you do, take the time for YOU.

And if nobody has told you lately…YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.

Oh, one more thing…Thank you for today’s writing distraction. (Wink)

To All the Words I Loved Before

“To all the words I’ve used. To all the words I’ve had to do without. To all the words I’ve not used yet.  You are loved.”

This blog was inspired by Willie Nelson’s song: To All the Girls I Loved Before. Click here for the video.

Words. I love words. I fell in love with words back in middle school, reading books like “The Hardy Boys” and “Nancy Drew”.  In high school, Danielle Steele was the queen of words, and she still is today.

I’ve written poetry, short stories, novellas, and novels. In all those writings, words have been with me. They offer an emotional outlet for creative expression. I can’t get enough of words. But, sometimes I’ve been without.

For example:

“I’m speechless.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There are no words to describe this.”

“I’m at a loss for words.”

Getting me now?

A very important step I’ve learned to use when I’m editing is identifying and removing meaningless and redundant words that don’t necessarily move the story. Over the years, I’ve kept a running list of words from my previous publications: Love’s Perfect Surrender, and Petrella, the Gillian Princess.  This “word list” has helped me create more concise content especially since I’m working on my third novel, Make it Right; Make it Matter.

I’d like to share that with you. Click Redundant and Meaningless Words_List.

I am not one of those gifted writers that can pump out an imperfect, error-free draft and call it “final”. I am a writer who is learning to recognize her flaws, identify and use the correct words to capture the tone, emotion, and description whether it be in a scene, a chapter, and a paragraph.

“Anyone can write, but it takes a lot more to be a storyteller.”

Don’t Mess with Momma

The Chronicles of Esther and Mel.”

EXTRA…EXTRA…THIS JUST IN…LATEST UPDATE

Esther sighting. Taking a stroll the day before Mother’s Day.

On this glorious Mother’s Day, one little duckling hatched.

A FEW DAYS AGO…

We had a scare. Esther was gone. Several of her feathers were strewn all over the red mulch, and one of our solar lamps was cracked in half. It looked like there had been a brawl of some sort. The worst of it; a broken piece of egg shell lay near the nest.

There was more. I followed the trail of shell pieces on my lawn. At the bottom of the hill, the remains of a cracked-open duckling egg.

I ran to it and bent to inspect it. There inside, I saw matted black feathers and a little yellow beak peeking out. There was no movement and I knew it was long dead. I stood up and turned my head, it was a gruesome sight, too gruesome for pictures.

I walked back up and peered over the nest. It looked like the other eggs were still there, and they appeared intact.

Phew. Thank God! But, where was Esther?

I prayed she was okay. The problem now was who would take care of the rest of the eggs if Esther was not around?

My daughters came home from school and I had to tell them the news.

My older one bawled her eyes out. “Esther’s babies will die! She won’t have a Mother’s Day.”

My younger daughter had a different perspective. “What did the baby duck look like? Was the egg bloody? Can I see the egg, Momma?”

On and on, the girls went. Each with their own analysis of what might have happened.

What if a coyote had gotten her and her egg? What if she was hurt? And, where the hell was Mel? He’s the protector.

I spent the remaining afternoon trying to distract my girls from thoughts of Esther. Truly, I was just as sad. She chose our house to create her nest, and she didn’t mind us walking by and peeking at her. It was cool to visit with her too.

Gosh, it was just the other day I had witnessed a lesson in love.

It had rained for days and finally the sun came out. I was inside with the windows open when I heard a lot of quacking. I came rushing out to check on her.

Hey, what’s the matter?”

She quacked. “Mel is supposed to be here and he’s not.”

“He’ll come, don’t worry.”

Esther huffed. “He probably went ponding.”

Ponding???

I crouched down beside her. “What’s ‘ponding’?”

Esther kicked up her webbed feet. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Yes, seriously. I have no idea what ‘ponding’ is.”

She proceeded to tell me that it was male-duck game played on a pond where the ducks have to balance wet leaves on their beaks without dropping them, and then paddle to a make-shift basket in the water. The first duck with the most leaves in a basket wins.

I started laughing. Strangely, it reminded me of golf because most male-humans play the game.

Esther snorted. “It’s not funny. He’s supposed watch the eggs while I go and do my business, and he’s still not here.”

I was about to say…maybe he had good reason, maybe he was running behind…maybe he forgot…maybe…when suddenly, we see Mel fly through air and land a few feet away. He strode up all dapper and manly.

Esther began quacking loudly and pacing. It startled Mel and he hurried over.

“Where have you been? You’re late!” She blurted.

Mel puffed out his chest. “Ponding, like I told you.”

She shouted back. “You did not!”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did not!”

Mel looked at me as if noticing me for the first time. I happen to be standing between them when the shouting match began. Aware of the awkwardness, I quickly got out of the way. It’s not good getting in the middle of couple fights.

Mel snuggled up against Esther’s neck. She seemed to relax. “I’m sorry for making you upset,” he whispered. “But, I did tell you, yesterday.”

Esther put her head down. “You’re right. I just remembered. You did tell me. My mind has been fogged lately. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Me too. You’ve got a lot on your mind.” Mel then nudged her away. “Get going. I’ve got the eggs.”

“Are you…”

“Yes, now go.”

Esther quacked and flapped her wings and away she went.

I gave Mel a thumbs up. “Good hubby.”

I momentarily closed my eyes and wished Esther would come back. This was her home.

“Momma, Momma, I’m hungry. Can I have a snack?”

And, just like that, I was back to reality.

Later that evening, after dinner, I decided to go for a walk. It was almost eight, but still light out. I strolled around our block. I couldn’t get the vision of the little cracked duckling egg out of my mind.

Just as I approached our house, I thought to look at Esther’s nest again. As I approached, I saw Esther making her way towards me.

Oh, my Goodness! I marched up to her.

“Esther, Esther, you’re back! Are you okay?” She looked alright.

The duck ignored me and went to her nest where she was squatting to get comfortable.

I waited until she was settled.

“I’ve been worried about you. Where have you been?”

Esther lifted her head toward me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But, but, you little egg? You feathers?”

“Leave me alone. I’m really tired.”

I nodded and took it as my queue to leave. “Okay, okay, I understand. We can talk another time.” I didn’t want to mess with this Momma. She gave me the look, you know…

I turned and left. A pain had been lifted from my heart. Esther was back. She’s okay. The girls will be relieved. And, it will be a wonderful Mother’s Day, after all.

As to what happened to her? I don’t know. Whatever it was, it had to be.

 

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