I never met fruit that I didn’t like, but I’ve also never met the Durian, also known as stinky fruit. It’s pungent and memorable. I’ve never tried it not do I have any desire to do so.
The first time I’ve ever even heard of it was on Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmernand it sounded awful. Otherwise, I’m a big fan of all fruit.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Not too long ago, one of my employees thought that I was the mother of a twenty-something year -old fellow employee of hers. Of course, I balked at the idea until I realized that I AM old enough to be her mother. Gaaaaaah!
In my mind,that twenty-something year-old employee is still me. Then reality sets in and I realize that twenty years have gone by in the blink of an eye. One marriage, two children, two houses, two dogs, and one long and successful career have flown by like a hurricane and I’m twenty years older than when it all began.
It’s true that I no longer party until the wee hours of the night and that most nights I’m asleep before the evening news has concluded. I can no longer eat whatever I want or lose weight just by thinking about it. I have aches and pains that make me wonder what the hell happened to my body, and I no longer get carded at the bar, on the rare occasion that I’m in one. I’m now the old person at work, the experienced one, and am the senior person in most cases. My kids think that it I’m old and uncool because I don’t know who Fetty Wap is, and I agree with them most days.
I would be lying if I said that getting older didn’t suck sometimes, but I realize that it’s just part of life and I have no choice but to accept it. Fighting it is futile so I embrace my older self, appreciate the wisdom I’ve obtained, and accept that I’m going to have to visit my elliptical a whole helluva lot more than I’ve been.
Now that I’m no longer the young kid who is up-and-coming, do I ever worry about my place in this world?
No.
In many ways, I think think that age is a state of mind. I’ve known seventy year-olds that are like forty-year olds and I’ve known thirty year-olds that remind me of eighty year-olds. When you choose to stop adapting, growing, and learning then you become less useful, less sought-after, and less valuable, no matter how old you are. I think that age matters less than state-of-mind. Does ageism exist in the world? Absolutely! It happens to those who are younger and those who are older and to say it doesn’t exist would be naive. Both think that they know more than the other, but each has something to teach the other. I now know who Fetty Wap is, and my kids learn from their old mom every day. I learn from my younger managers and employees and hopefully in turn, they learn from me. Because we co-exist and appreciate each other, the world is fuller and richer.
I’ve never felt less valuable because of my age, whether it was to my family, my job, or the world. In many ways, I have so much more to contribute now. I’m wiser, smarter, better organized, more patient, and more intuitive than I’ve ever been. I’m also kinder and better able to let go of things that have hindered me in the past, like toxic people and unnecessary anger. While I no longer have the body of a twenty year old, I am more comfortable in my own skin, yet still willing to improve myself. As with anything in life, age is about perspective and the willingness to have an open heart and an open mind.
There are times when I wish that I still got carded, but I wouldn’t trade my life now, for any of it. Even though I’m older, I wouldn’t want to learn all of those difficult lessons all over again or struggle through the growing pains. I’ve earned every laugh line and worry line that’s on my face, and I’m stronger for every trial and tribulation that I’ve endured. So, I say to Hell with ageism. Mine will never stop me or define me completely, and if I decide to write another book, get a tattoo, or dye my hair pink when I’m 70, then so be it. The world will just have to be prepared and deal with me! 😊😊😊
I’ve been holding this in for far too long. I didn’t finish The Host by Stephanie Myer. I also haven’t finished 11/22/63 by Stephen King. I hate admitting it because I wanted to love both books so much but I found myself wandering off every time I would start them.
(Pause, so you can throw fruit at me)
Okay, I feel better now.
I really think that it’s probably all about timing with both books and I’ve had readers who dnf the ones I’ve written. I get it. We don’t connect with every book we read but I truly did want to love both of those books, and will likely try and read them both again. I respect both authors so much and love their other works, so I’m hopeful that I’ll connect with the books when I’m meant to.
Books that I love.
I know that the post is only about one but that’s like asking me to pick my favorite child. It just can’t be done, or it depends on the day, either way they’re all my favorites.
I’m currently rereading The Witching Hour by Anne Rice, which I love and have read often over the years. I used to reread East of Eden by John Steinbeck often, but haven’t revisited that classic in many years. I’ve recently read Deadbeat Dates and Deities by my good friend JC Wing, that is both smart and funny. I also love books like The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis and Letters Written in White by Kathryn Perez that capture your imagination, even long after you’ve read them.
One of my favorite books is The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I just love the story about deep love, possibility, and frustration. I love Claire and Henry and wish desperately that they could coexist in the same time period for just a little while longer than what they have, but then there would be no story. Maybe I’m a bit masochistic but the impossible love story is my favorite story of all time.
I find that I’ve always been drawn to books that speak to me about love, loss, the unimaginable, and the impossible. Those are also the books that I love to write. I guess I’m a sucker for angsty stories, but I also love books that are clever and fun, as well as books that will stay with me for a lifetime. That’s the beauty of books; they comfort you, teach you, and expand your heart and mind, and if you find the right one, it’ll change you forever.
I don’t have any tattoos.
I always said that if I didn’t have one by the age of thirty that I wouldn’t get one and that ship has long sailed. Nothing of great significance happened to me before I was thirty that I wanted to memorialize with any permanence.
Since then, much has happened to change me and I’ve changed my mind. I would get a tattoo, but just haven’t … yet.
My sisters (in-law) and a I discussed getting Sisters tattoos on our feet, which I would still love to do.
I’m a big fan of the tattoos on the back of your neck, though I don’t think that’s me. The best tattoo I ever saw was a lovely woman’s grandmother’s signature on the back of her neck. It was a beautiful tribute to her grandmother.
I’ve contemplated getting a similar one on the inside of my wrist, with my grandma’s I Love You and her Xs and Os, that she sighed every letter she wrote me with.
Some may be surprised with my affinity for tattoos, but I’ve always liked them and am always curious about what they mean to the person who has them. The more personal, the better, in my opinion.
Who knows, maybe I’ll get one someday. In the meantime, I’ll continue to admire them on others and ask their story about why they got it. For now, that’s good enough for me.
Today’s challenge is to write about someone who facscinates me and why… which I’ve been wracking my brain about for days.
I wasn’t sure if I should choose a public figure or someone closer to me, and for days I’ve tried to figure it out. Ultimately, I’ve decided to write about my children because they fascinate me so much more than anyone I can ever imagine. For starters, I can’t believe that I actually made them. I actually had the capability to make little tiny people! It boggles my mind even now!
When they were small, I could stare at them for hours. There were days I did nothing but watch them sleep or watch their tiny chests while they breathed. I truly felt like the most amazing person of all time because, did I mention this before, but I made them! Never mind that women have been having babies for centuries .😆 I can still remember how soft their skin was and how their tiny bodies fit right in my arms, reminding me that I was put on this earth just so that I could be their mom. I still remember their tiny cries, and how my youngest son’s cry was husky, just like his voice is now.
As they’ve grown, I’ve often found myself thoroughly captivated by them through every stage. Every gurgle, noise, coo, and giggle, I’ve been completely mesmerized by all of it. Whether it was age two , five, or seven, remembering the softness of their hair every time I’ve kissed the top of their head or their tiny hands clutching tightly to my own, I’ve photographed every bit of it in my mind. Listening to their minds develop and grow, and seeing their emerging personalities has been an utter joy. Even their stubbornness, their tantrums, and the moments when they’ve been the most difficult have been interesting. I’ve watched them both work through diversity; the bully in first grade, the broken nose, the racial slur, the lost toy, the loss of a grandparent, the brotherly squabble, and through it all I’ve been able to catch a glimpse of the men they will one day be. Watching my youngest hold the door open for an elderly couple at a restaurant without being prompted and listening to my oldest remind his brother to say his good-night prayers, are moments that give me much hope for a bright and beautiful future for both of them.
They’ve become two very strong-willed individuals who are discovering the world and themselves, and it’s a tremendous thing to watch and be a part of. They are feisty, grateful, and amaze me every day with a new revelation or observation. I never anticipated such joy from watching two people grow.
When I look at them, I often feel like a scientist who has discovered a miracle and I want to shout it to the world. I’m fortunate to have a husband who gets it and understands why I sometimes cry when a moment with one of them catches my heart in just the right way. He understands how perfectly beautiful and unbelievable they are, because he sees it too.
I never imagined being fascinated by two people who haven’t yet reached the potential of who they will be. I can only imagine how fascinated by them I’ll be when they’re adults and I get to see what they will become. If I never know anything else in this world, I know that I was put here in this place, at this time, just so that I could be with them.
Nothing will ever be more amazing to me that that.
I live in Ohio.
The weather is weird, it’s often gray, but it’s where the people I love are.
If I could live anywhere, in a place I’ve never visited, I would live here…
Or more specifically, here:
An ocean, an infinity pool, and blue sky…
If I had my family, my laptop, books, and sunscreen, I would be one happy girl. 😃
It doesn’t take much, right?
Today’s challenge is to share TEN interesting things about myself. I’ll give it a go, but I can’t promise how interesting they’ll be. 😳😳
Despite everything on this list, I’m not Mary Sunshine. I write to keep the demons at bay and I work very hard to not let life consume me. I can be angry, difficult, petulant, and petty. I can be ugly, inside and out, but I know that’s just part of being human. There are times when I just myself go because I know that I’m far from perfect and will try harder the next day. I don’t know how interesting this, was but if you made it to the end, then you know a little more about me! 😊😊😊
Even though it’s only day three of the challenge, this day had me a little miffed on how I would write about it.
Writing about my first kiss, is easy. I was thirteen, he had blonde hair and blue eyes, and it was unremarkable, unemotional, and nothing special. I only remembered it because it was the first one of my young life.
Writing about my first love is more complicated, but nobody said this writing challenge would be easy. I mentioned in my post yesterday about my first memory and how my journey began alone and unknown. In hindsight, it seems that those early beginnings galvanized me and while I fell into infatuation in my younger years, romantic love didn’t come easily or openly to me.
But this is about first loves and I’ve had many.
I can remember falling in love with books at a young age. I remember reading the simple ones, then moving on to comic books and then the more difficult reads as I grew older. I read every Beverly Cleary, Judy Blume, Nancy Drew, and VC Andrews book that I could get my hands on. I read anything and everything that captured my young heart and mind. Reading was bliss and nothing in the world made me happier than a good book. My mom used to say that the house could fall down around me while I was reading, and that I would never know. She wasn’t wrong. I read in the car, on vacation, on the bus, and in bed when I was supposed to be asleep. I had a book in my hand everywhere I went and the library was my refuge.
God was also one of my first loves, teaching me selflessness and dedication. For many years in my early life, I clung to my spirituality, committed to it like one is to committed to their first romantic relationship. I was so in love that I even went to a Christian College, and contemplated a life of service, but certain events in my life steered me in a completely different direction.
Only as an adult did I discover my first opportunity for romantic love. But as it happens in life, I didn’t realize it until it was too late. By the time I did, too much had shifted and settled, and I realized that it came down to most things in life; timing. Our timing was always off so we were left with only memories.
Years later, I met my husband, my first great love. Through hell and back, ups and downs, I’ve learned what it means to love, honor, and cherish, until death do us part. The vows weren’t “only when it’s perfect,” and while there have been plenty of opportunities for both of us to give it all up, in spite of it all we love each other. We love and fiercely protect the family we’ve made and the bonds we’ve created, for ourselves and our children. We’ve laughed and cried, walked away from and ran toward one another. But so far, we haven’t given up, on ourselves or on each other, which is what we promised in the beginning.
Lastly, my boys have been the first people I’ve loved in this life, without condition. They’ve taught me what it’s like to love from a perfect heart and I’ve become a better, stronger, and kinder person because of their love. I see myself through their eyes, even when it’s not good, and I know now what true love is. It’s accepting every apology, righting every wrong, and loving someone until you feel that your heart will explode out of your chest. It’s doing what you don’t want to because you know it’s the right thing to do, for them. It’s doing everything in your power to protect their hearts and preserve their minds from anger, hatred, and imperfection so that they can stay little boys for just a little while longer.
Loving my children had been a willing exercise in humility and sacrifice, that makes me want to do my best every day.
As I thought about this post, I knew that I would need to be thoughtful about it because love of any kind is personal and emotional. I’m fortunate that I’ve loved a great deal and had so much love in my life. I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
It may seem strange, but my memories from childhood are sparse, and few and far between. As I searched my mind to find the very first memory I ever had, I failed miserably.
I was born in a little city near Seoul, Korea, abandoned my own parents, then later adopted by American parents at the age of three. Everything that transpired in between was, and always will be, a mystery. I have no memory of wandering the streets unable to find food, or of breaking arm while I was in Korea, or even the surgery to repair it. I don’t remember the person who found and rescued me, and I have no memory of the orphanage I was in, or the parents that I lost. I don’t remember the plane ride to Chicago to meet my adoptive parents or the struggle and loneliness I must’ve felt in a new world, with a new language, surrounded by faces that didn’t look like my own.
While there are times when I wish I had some of those memories, it’s highly unlikely that I would’ve remembered much at that age anyway. I imagine that there is a reason I don’t remember much and I have become at peace with that.
As I struggle to remember, I have one memory that stays with me though I don’t remember what age it happened. I was at an age of understanding and reasoning, but still very young and impressionable. It happened during a museum trip with my parents. I stood in front of a certain statue and my mom told me that if I had stayed in Korea, I might be worshipping a god, like the one represented by the statue. It struck my young heart how fortunate I had been, in many ways, to have been adopted and to live in the United States. I prayed a small prayer of thankfulness, understanding even then, that my life could’ve been completely different.
As I look at my life today, I know that every step lead me to being where I am, with a wonderful family and an amazing life. I don’t dwell on the lack of memories anymore as I work hard to create my own, with the people I love the most. I hope that as my children look back on their first memories that they will find love, happiness, and joy. If they do, then my life will be complete.
**The picture was taken shortly after I was adopted, of me and my GiGi. She was, and continues to be, one of the loves of my life and I miss her every day.
I’m not going to lie, I looove social media!
Since my first book was originally published in 2013, social media has allowed me to connect with so many wonderful readers, reviewers, bloggers, and artists in every avenue. My world has expanded to places I’ve never been to and to people I’ve never met in person. I’ve made wonderful friends and become aquainted with many incredible and interesting people. It has allowed me to connect with old friends, far-away family members, old and current employees, and people that otherwise would’ve been a long lost chapter in my life. As a reformed pen-pal from youth, I find that social media feeds the need within, to explore the world, from my home.
But as with anything, too much of a good thing, is not, and I do find that there can be problems with being too connected.
Despite all of these issues, I’m definitely a fan of social media. It’s expands my world, opens my eyes, and connects my heart those I would otherwise never have a chance to know. I stay away from the five negatives every chance I get and try to drive a positive approach everyday. I’ve learned through the years that you attract wonderful people by being positive and trying to make people’s lives better and fuller through social media.
Come hang out with me if you’d like. I guarantee that if we use our powers for good, we can make social media a much better place!
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