A Work in Progress

I learn something from my dog every day. Every day. There are usually a few lessons that rotate through my life, lessons I'm still learning, so every time I see one of these "lessons" in action, right in front of me, I realize how far I need to go to grow in my wisdom to be a better person; a dog-wise person. The biggest lesson my dog has taught me is gratitude. Yep. Gratitude. My dog is the happiest person I know.  I realize my dog is not actually a human being, but she is such a part of my family and is so crucial to teaching me things (things that I just don't seem to want to learn), that I've deemed her human. So she is the happiest and smartest person I know.  Back to gratitude... she exudes this daily.  She's thankful to wake up to see me. Every day. She's thankful when I come home from wherever I was. Every day. She is thankful for food (most of the time...but especially if beef is involved.) Every day. She is so thankful to go for walks. Every day

It's funny how things go in circles.  I remember, over three years ago, telling myself I needed to do something else... something else, mind you, other than being a full-time mom, full-time wife, freelance writer, and vintage clothing seller. No -- I needed to do something else so I could feel like I was really doing something. Really working. I remember pulling on my boots one day and tying them while in tears thinking, "I have too much time on my hands." I need to do something productive. Looking back, I know now that these thoughts were insanity. I think I was just out of my mind for a few months and really needed someone to slap me and say, "Lady, you are doing more than enough. You are enough just as you are." But, I needed to be really working . Why would I say this? And why would I even think to ask myself this? Wasn't I already working? Wasn't that enough? So, I added a part-time job to my schedule.  Then a year later, added another one. There

Today is Thanksgiving Eve and it so happens that my workload is just a touch light and I have a moment to write something.  I write pretty regularly, whether it's for work or my writing, but this blog gets ignored. Rightly so. It's been on the back burner for a while as I juggle three or four jobs. But as I said earlier, the workload is lessoning, and come the new year, it will be even a little bit lighter. Which is good news, really. It means back to more writing time for myself, which is what I want.  Sometimes we have to walk away from what we think we love, to find out that it is indeed our passion and true love. Writing for myself is that perfect true love (with wearing, finding, and selling vintage clothing a very close second.) I was lucky enough to be published by Chicken Soup for the Soul , a fourth time now, last month. It feels like a dream every time they publish something of mine. It took me a good ten years to get them to say "yes" to me so now that th

Every day I wake up and thank God I get to do what I do. Here are those three things: writing, selling vintage, and being a mom. While the mom thing is permanent, and I'll be that for as long as I'm alive (and I'm so glad I can), the vintage and writing are choices I make every day to do because I want to. I write all the time. From articles for the magazine I work for, to articles and stories I submit freelance, to middle grade fiction (I am working on one...I promise. It's nearly done), every now and then something gets published and it makes my day. Selling vintage is a whole different world and genre, so feel free to go to my other blog for that. ◄ But that is just as amazing for me. Just a few days ago, I was published once again by Chicken Soup for the Soul , and this time, in their latest book Kindness Matters.  At my desk...where all the magic happens. This is my third time being published by them and let me tell you, that euphoric feeling with the acceptance le

Today marks the latest book release for Chicken Soup for the Soul. This book, Be You: 101 Stories of Affirmation, Determination and Female Empowerment is chock-full of beautiful stories written about women by women. I'm lucky enough to be in this book as well! This is my second tantalizing publication with Chicken Soup and I can't tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity. In my opinion, the title of the book and my story work well together. The story I submitted, and the one they took, was about how I started my vintage-selling business. It went through my reasons for starting my shop, why I wanted it, and the difficulties I knew I'd face once I began. As the sage advice goes, "Write what you know." I know how to go about selling vintage clothing online, and I'd like to think I know how to write about it. If it meant a story turned out that merited a chance at publication, then so be it. Well, that's exactly what I did and I suppose exactly why they

In my last post, I discussed the interesting overlap of two novels in my reading world. I went over a few of the similarities of two very different books, with very different genres and subject matter, but also pointed out that the tone and type were the same. This happened to me ... again. How apropos. Only, this time, it was the merging of my reading and vintage worlds. As I have mentioned before, I sell vintage clothing. This November marks ten years of selling vintage clothing and it's still one of my most favorite "jobs" of all time. For those who haven't read the book The Help , by Kathryn Stockett (there has been a huge debate over it due to the resurgence of the racism topic in America, but I loved the concept, as well as the history and highly recommend it), this book is an interesting look at life for working black American women (working for non-working white American women) in the early 1960s.  While I was getting ready to take pictures of an early '

Blood, Bones & Butter I just recently read this fantastic book by Gabrielle Hamilton called Blood, Bones & Butter . If you want to indoctrinate yourself into the world of cooking, how to be a gourmet chef, and perhaps get a glimpse of life in the world of restaurant kitchens, this book is it.  Gabrielle is a chef whom I'd originally seen on the PBS show, Mind of a Chef. That show, by the way, is phenomenal. Hosted by the late Anthony Bourdain, the episodes are short and sweet and stuffed full of new foods, cooking techniques, and recipes from all over the world. Gabrielle's down-to-earth way of cooking, speaking, and her style in general, are what drew me to her. She also happens to be a literature graduate student, so from the moment I heard her speak, it felt like I'd known her for years. But, I suppose it feels that way to all who listen to her. She's that familiar and comfortable. She's someone you'd want to have coffee with. Are you famil

Think positive! I am delighted to tell you that I was accepted into Chicken Soup for the Soul's latest compilation, Think Positive, Live Happy.   These little books have been a source of inspiration, laughter, hope, and amusement for over twenty-five years. And to be included in one of them is a privilege. But, here's the truth of the matter: It took me eight years of submitting stories just to get published with them. Chicken Soup publishes about a dozen books a year, and they accept roughly a hundred stories per book, so after doing the math, you'd think it wouldn't be a problem getting in! But as with all publishing and writing, timing and the right story is everything. I'm not saying I liked waiting eight years, but I'm a better writer because of it. It kept me pushing to write stronger. And thinking positively: believing one day they would accept my work, even if I didn't want to keep submitting to them anymore. Pretty much how you'll

This right here, Fernweh, is why writers do what they do. I went looking for a blog post I'd written years ago for a future article that I'm working on now. And guess what? I went back to the beginning of all my blog posts and it looks like I've been blogging for ten years. That sure went by fast. August 6, 2009 ◄ was my first post and hey, I'm still here and still loving it. While my random blogging is nothing special, I've got to say it's been a wonderful place to hone my writing skills. And as a writer, it's a good idea to have a digital footprint that shows both a writing past and a potential writing future. There are plenty of "real" bloggers who have tons of followers and loyal fans. They're super prolific and making six figures, and writing about their successes. And that's great. But, this blog isn't that. I never wanted it to be that in the first place. Not to mention, it wasn't even a thing ten years ag

I tend to use this title a lot, Seasons of Change . I mean, I haven't scrolled back to look, but it feels like I either use this title every year in one of my blog posts, or want to use this title with each post I write. Either way, here it is again. It's only July 1st, but I'm sitting at my computer trying to go back through the last four weeks, and they have been some of the most transitional "seasons of change," yet. This last May was by far the busiest May I can recall. There was virtually no down time for weeks ... and it's fine now. But for all you parents of soon-to-be Senior High School students, who work and run a house, best of luck. You will lose your sanity. You will lose patience. And you will look back and wonder how you made it through. Well, here's a glimpse of the last four weeks in my world. For starters, I had a story of mine published and that was a great way to begin the summer. It's via Guideposts, the story is true, and

I'm writing this for myself as much as I'm writing this for you. Think you didn't get done, or didn't accomplish, or didn't make, or didn't have, or didn't overcome -- fill in the blank, this year? Don't give up. Time is just time. And all things are possible outside of time. For me, the end of year always culminates in me wondering what I wrote, if anything and did I have any of these writing published? Of course, being published doesn't equal success ... and yet, sometimes it does. There's a ton of writing I do that no one will ever see. Not just because I didn't send it out into the world, but because no one wants it. Yep. It isn't the right fit (or it really isn't any good) and I have to keep looking for the right home for the piece. I'm always, always reminding myself I'm in the rejection business. Because it gets old, this whole rejection thing. Yet, if you know it's part of the job, it's manageabl

I'm not sure if you remember, but a little over a year ago, I wrote a post about Pennies. ◄ (not just) Penny Jar  Namely, finding the small -- very inconsequential -- things of life and not only making them an intentional part of your life, but making them a gift. To yourself. These gifts are everywhere -- if we're willing to look past our own negative expectations. Here's the jar today. After a year of doing this, of not passing up a penny when I just happened to walked by one, or picked one up at my feet as I got out of the car, I've changed. Here's how: 1. Expansion : It didn't just stop with pennies, it became dimes and nickels and quarters. And then it became dollars. And then jewelry and keys! There were more gifts around than I thought. I began to find dollars and five dollar bills in the vintage clothing I sold at my Etsy shop. It became comical. My oldest would walk to his car after school and pick up dollars on the ground in front of

Like many of you, I am a list-maker. I find them to be one of the most rewarding things I can do in my little life. Well, that and drinking coffee and wearing vintage. But, I digress. List-making really only consists of three things: paper, a pen, and your brain. While there are myriad articles and books on tidying up and minimal living (both of which I fully embrace), living a simple and minimal life can also start just by making a list. So, why should you write a list? Three reasons: it's simple, it's in front of you, and anyone can be master of their world with one. Yes, dare I say master of your universe. Pretty amazing, right? That little list holds your sanity, order and clarity. And those are all we really need. Check out this list I wrote the other day: I listed the errands I had to run (go to post office, then to Salvation Army and Goodwill to find my vintage to sell). I listed the work I had to do (list two items items for sale on my vintage Etsy site,

Gahhhhh! That's me yelling at my Kindle because I'm re-reading an overused word in a New York Times best-selling book by a best-selling author. Gahhhhh! That's me yelling again  because said writer should know better ... even if the rules don't apply to him because he's uber famous and can do what he wants. But, I -- the reader -- noticed! I saw the repeated words. And I'm annoyed. Readers read to get away; to dive into the book and enjoy; to escape-- not to question the author's choice of words. Okay, let me open up here. The book is John Grisham's latest thriller, The Rooster Bar.   Per usual, it's a great read, is super easy to get into, and has awesome, three-dimensional characters (even though you could swap characters from book to book and it would work seamlessly). But, the word he over used is: evidently. This word can be perfect  to use. Say, once every other chapter, if  needed. But it's one of those adverbs that shoul

My husband and I have this running joke that if we played a drinking game for the first -- and only the first-- five minutes of any news segment, anywhere in America, we'd be under the table in two. Why? Because this drinking game is based on the repeated use of the word "impact." It's okay if you can hate me now. Because after this post, you will notice this word EVERYWHERE and how overused it is. I get it. The word is impactful. It makes a point. Pulls a punch. But ... it's beyond this, my friends. It's overwhelmingly beyond this now. I also understand that each decade has it's colloquial and trendy words. Totally understand that. I can dig that, yo. But, there's an all-out assault on this word. And most of the time, it's used incorrectly. Do you know what the word impact means? Per Merriam-Webster, it means 1.   a.: to fix firmly by or as if my packing or wedging   b.: to press together 2.   a.: to have a direct effect or i

Life is full of seasons, even in sunny northern California. Which is remarkable. Maybe we don't get all that cold here in Sacramento, but some mornings are below freezing and I know for a fact we'll have days this summer hovering close to 110 degrees. But, life is full of emotional and spiritual seasons, too. Change, growth, loss, newfound passions, love, or jobs.  All of this is -- and will be -- a part of our lives, whether we like it or not and whether we admit it or not. The latest season of mine has felt difficult, for lack of better wording. Maybe the hardest it's been since I had a my first born, over seventeen years ago.  Back then, I felt alone and was dealing with a huge responsibility that I knew nothing about -- raising a child! Today, there's me pursuing writing, which is always a constant struggle ( Am I good enough?) There's me wondering how I let go of my son who will be graduating high school next year. ( I don't want to let go. )

My neighbors, whom I've not met, just moved in across the street. I've no idea where they're from and was out of town when the moving trucks unloaded their things, and I don't even know if I've seen their cars. I don't know if anyone is there, actually. But yesterday, they (I still didn't see them) set out some things for donation (they just appeared). The kind that is to be picked up by a truck, free of charge, to be resold for "reasonable" prices at a thrift store. So, someone must live there. My new neighbors missed the truck by a half hour. I saw it winding down our street as I left at 7:49 to take my sons to school. And when I got back, a baby walker and a few bags sat by the curb. It was a little sad to see the forlorn baby walker without a baby in it, as though the baby just upped and walked away on his own. It made me want to walk over to my new neighbors and meet them and tell them, "Hey, you're too late! You have to haul

You know what I find hilarious? Bookmarks. Not the concept of a  bookmark itself, but what we use to mark our book's page. I remember reading an article once about libraries and the bookmarks the librarians find with all the returned books. Banana peels, toilet paper, pens. You name it, they are the lucky recipients of it. The bookmark is as individual as the person using it, as much as the book choice of each person. And as a vintager, one who buys, sells and wears vintage, I also pick up used and -- sometimes vintage -- books. Because, second-hand books are the best invention ever. The bookmarks I find in said books are comical. If not insightful. For example, here's one from a middle-grade read. And I have a few questions: Was the reader reading this in the kitchen? Why the torn Ziploc box bit? Why not a plastic bag? Or was the Ziploc box headed out to the recycling? A foil or plastic wrap bookmark would've been great, too. Then ther

I say two things all the time, and the people who know me tire of it. It's: 1. Never say never. 2. Timing is everything Think you'd "never" do something based on your likes or dislikes? This dress. Geez, I love it. Thankfully I started wearing vintage and liking pink again. Whew. That was close .. . Think something will "never" happen because of your situation? Think again. I find that whenever I say "never" it's due to pride.  My pride. Either it's because I'm living a "holier than thou" moment and think I'll "never" do something based on what I see others doing or have done. Or I'm saying "never" because I've already been through something and I'll "never" do, deal with, have, go, own, like, etc -- fill in the blank. Whatever it is I'll "never" participate in because I have no faith in a great future or my vision is so narrow, that my "view" is the

Pennies are everywhere, right? I mean, they're on the ground, at the cash register at Starbucks, they're probably in your sofa cushions. A few weeks ago, I began to notice random pennies on the ground when I was about town, running errands, and fueling the car. And it wasn't just one day, they started appearing repeatedly -- it became every day, after every errand, to the point that I began to wonder what was going on. I couldn't ignore them. But, "It's just a penny. Why stop to pick it up? What can it do for me?" Maybe I was going about this all wrong. This jar will be full very soon. After a week or two, it began to bother me not picking up that single penny. It's as if God was saying, "I will provide for you but you have to take it," every time I saw one in the dirt, on the street, underneath a counter. And I was intentionally ignoring it.  By not picking them up, I was saying, "This blessing is too small. This