Caleigh O'Shea's Blog, page 35

Memories

In any household, junk accumulates to fill the space available for its storage. ~Boston’s Irreversible Law of Clutter

They say one man’s trash is another’s treasure, but I can’t think of a single soul who’d be interested in the old storage shed Dallas told you about a couple of years ago.

It’s empty as a box of chocolates hours after Valentine’s Day.

But it’s still here.

Perhaps I should explain.

The reasoning behind acquiring a shed in the first place was that paying monthly rent for a unit across town didn’t make sense.

Nor did it make sense to cram it to the ceiling with things nobody in this family needed or wanted.

If you haven’t used something in years, or it no longer brings a smile to your face, why hoard it? Once we’re dead and gone, our offspring will have to dispose of it, and the young ‘uns don’t appreciate our “stuff” the way we do.

I’ve long been a fan of purging excess. I make three stacks — one to keep, one to trash, and one to give away.

But I’m in control of the decisions.

With this shed, I wasn’t.

I procrastinated too long to clean it, leaving it victim to undetermined furry creatures and ANTS.

After our handyman’s first pass-through, I set off some chemical bombs and locked the door behind me.

Afraid to go back in to separate.

Eventually, the handyman returned and dragged out box after box, awaiting my decision on disposal.

Most, I callously trashed.

Without knowing what was inside.

Now I’m starting to remember:

My scrapbooks, lovingly put together and serving as a record of my life from junior high on
My photos, painstakingly compiled into albums and serving as a visual reminder of good times
Mementos of past jobs, former co-workers, and the Domer’s old baby clothing and logo T-shirts from various sports
My college textbooks and yearbooks
Wall hangings, a candlestick from a long-ago church renovation, old stuffed animals.

I’ll probably think of more.

So while I’m delighted the only thing left is dismantling the shed and hauling it off, I rue my haste.

What’s gone that I should have kept?

On the bright side, I’ve got a huge start on uncluttering, and nobody can take away my memories!

 

Memory… is the diary that we all carry about with us. ~Oscar Wilde, Irish poet and playwright

The Kid Comes to Visit

The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears. ~John Vance Cheney, American poet and librarian

Dallas here.

The Kid (AKA Domer) came home on Saturday, and I nearly jumped out of my skin with excitement!

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Me and my kid together again

It’s been AGES since I’ve seen him. (Mama says two months, but that’s ages to a dog).

He lets me lick him, even his face (something my mama never permits).

He taxis me up and down the stairs when my joints hurt.

He shares bananas and donuts with me in the mornings.

The whole house is noisier with laughter and activity, and I don’t feel the need to snooze all day because I know he’s going to do something fun, and I want to be in on it.

When I saw him, my tummy started fluttering, just thinking about The Feast — you know, turkey and all the trimmings, along with pumpkin pie.

But Mama says that happens the next time Domer comes home.

What??

I could’ve sworn it was Fall. Mama decorated the house with leaves, little kids are back to riding those big yellow buses, something called football is on TV again, and it’s dark now when I get up in the morning.

Doesn’t that mean Fall?

And Fall means pie, right?

Looking back, I should’ve realized something was up. The Kid was here only a few days, not near long enough for a real feast.

He’s already gone back, and there’s an empty place in my heart to go along with the empty place in my tummy.

I’m missing The Feast and my kid.

Drat!

Pollyanna’s Take

There are defeats more triumphant than victories. ~Michel de Montaigne, French Renaissance Philosopher

Typically, I’m the one doing the firing.

I’ve had to sever ties with clients over the years for one reason or another, and I’ve never regretted doing so.

But somehow it feels different on the receiving end.

Being fired.

Let go.

For those who don’t know, I run a web design business and have for the past seventeen years.

Sometimes, especially lately, it’s been a challenge:

There are a plethora of companies now doing web design and development, many with far bigger budgets and staffs than I have, who can offer more services.
There are a host of free or nearly free programs that let the tech-savvy put together their own website and update it as they see fit.
And the field has become increasingly complicated with the explosion of cellphones, tablets, and user expectations, turning it into a “young person’s game.”

But on the whole, I enjoy my work, and it pays the bills.

Imagine my surprise last week when a long-time client called and said they’d “decided to go in a different direction.”

What?

“Oh, you’ve done nothing wrong,” they told me. “In fact, we’ve been happy to work with you, and your work has been outstanding.”

Okay, who fires somebody for good work?

They hemmed and hawed about wanting a site they could manage themselves. Instant updates. A different feel.

Rather than argue, I put on my professional face, thanked them for letting me know, and went over “tidy-up” matters like final invoices.

And I hung up with a heavy heart. Feeling more like slamming a door, breaking a glass, or yelling out loud.

None of which I did.

Sure, I’ll miss them as a client, but the Pollyanna in me says this could become a blessing.

Since my debut novel was published last fall, I’ve often wished I had more time to write.

To finish the second book in my series and move on to the third.

Even if I can’t transition to writing entirely, this will free up time for me to write more.

So, Happy Dance after all!

No man is a failure who is enjoying life. ~William Feather, American publisher and author

We Remember

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen. ~Edward de Bono, Maltese physician, philosopher, author

Like with JFK’s passing

Or the Challenger explosion,

Life-altering events

Uniting us all.

We remember:

Where we were

What we were doing

When 9/11/01 rolled around.

An ordinary day

For work or school.

Cloudless skies

Became dark with terror.

We remember:

Planes hitting buildings,

Selfless heroes

Too many gone too soon.

A flurry of prayers

Forgotten faith reignited.

Increased vigilance,

Stiffer security measures.

We remember:

And by remembering

Honor those who no longer can.

Sunday’s Gem — Diamond

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein

The earliest diamonds were found in the 4th century B.C. in India.

Composed of mostly carbon that’s been subjected to extremely high temperatures and pressure, the name ‘diamond’ comes from the Greek word adamas, translated ‘unconquerable, invincible.’

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The contrast of uncut diamonds with the polished, cut version in the lower right corner is striking (photo thanks to www.gia.edu (the Gemological Institute of America)

Known as the “king of gems” for its perfect structure, unique light refraction, and hardness ( a perfect 10 on the 1-10 Mohs Scale), Diamond is considered the master healer.

A sign of fidelity, Diamond never needs recharging. In fact, it’s said to enhance the properties of other crystals. It offers fearlessness, clears emotional pain, stimulates creativity, and attracts abundance.

Physically, Diamond detoxifies all the systems in the body, clears sight, treats vertigo and allergies, and thwarts poison.

Diamond is listed as the sixth stone in the breastplate of the Jewish high priest and was said to reveal the guilt or innocence of an accused person. During the Middle Ages, Diamond worn in a ring was thought to serve as an antidote to poison.

Until the middle of the 18th century, it was believed that India was the only source of diamonds in the world. But a teenager exploring a riverbank in South Africa discovered what turned out to be a more than 2000-carat diamond! Shortly after, the Kimberly Mine came into operation.

In 1880, an Englishman formed De Beers Consolidated Mines Ltd. to help control the supply of diamonds. But by that time, demand was down, as more people were choosing colored gemstones (emeralds, rubies, sapphires) for their engagement stones.

It wasn’t until 1947, when an advertising agency came up with the slogan ‘A diamond is forever’ that the popularity of the gemstone surged. Today, more than three-fourths of engagement rings sold contain diamond stones.

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Now a resident of the Smithsonian Institution, the Hope Diamond was originally 115 carats and probably purchased in India. Reputedly cursed, the diamond has been recut to 45.5 carats. Thanks to 1stdibs.com for this photo.

Besides their function as gemstones, Diamonds are used industrially as an abrasive, embedded into metal drill bits for drilling oil wells, to enhance the performance of high-quality speakers, and in small mechanical devices. And, for those looking to preserve their loved ones after death, some companies now are turning cremated ashes into diamonds.

Diamond is the traditional birthstone for those born in April, as well as the anniversary stone for those celebrating 10 or 60 years.

Feng Shui practitioners consider Diamond an “energy disperser” that should be placed in any window to act as a prism radiating light and energy.

Metaphysical healers advise using Diamond to balance the Crown Chakra, helping connect us to universal truth and remain unruffled by setbacks.

Note: The claims here aren’t meant to take the place of medical advice. They’re based on folklore and other sources, and likely “work” best if one’s belief is strong enough!

Happy Birthday to Me

They say that age is all in your mind. The trick is keeping it from creeping down into your body. ~Author unknown

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I’m the birthday girl

Celebrating all day long

Have some cake with me!

One, Two, Three…

If I were to begin life again, I would devote it to music. It is the only cheap and unpunished rapture upon earth. ~Sydney Smith, English writer and cleric

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Speaking metronome

Helps keep my rhythms even.

Apps for everything!

 

I’m working on a particularly tricky sonatina by a Danish composer in my flute lessons this summer.

Thus far, my teacher has assigned me the first two movements (I’ve peeked at the third one, but it looks like a train wreck waiting to happen!)

It’s not the key signatures or the individual notes that are causing problems. No, it’s the totality of notes, the fingerings, and particularly the rhythms that are so challenging.

When I told her I hated playing this piece and found every excuse in the book to avoid practicing it, she was shocked.

And explained that sometimes we like pieces that are too easy for us when what we should be doing is playing harder pieces that stretch and challenge us.

Hmm, she’s right, of course. Where did one so young acquire such wisdom??

Perhaps it’s true that humans too often try to take the easy way out.

The road of least resistance, you might say.

I grumble that I’ve only been playing flute two years. How am I expected to remember fingerings, notes, breathing, how to double-tongue, how to play with vibrato, and all the rest … at the same time?

She won’t let me succomb to excuses.

And when she discovered she couldn’t tap her foot to my beats, she suggested I download a speaking app onto my phone. Something that would sit beside me, much as a teacher would for a beginner, and count out loud.

I’ve got metronome apps that play with clicks, drum taps, wooden blocks, even a barking dog or a pulsing light.

But a speaking metronome? What a brilliant idea!

So brilliant that I stayed up late that night, browsing the app store for just the right download.

And maybe I’ll surprise her at my next lesson!

Extending Mercy

Life becomes easier when you learn to accept an apology you never got. ~Robert Brault, American writer

Sometimes it’s the little things

That pierce us to the core.

The little snubs, the little sneers,

The expressions we abhor.

In their defense they might not know

The arrows they are sending.

The words they say or leave unsaid

The hearts they’re blithely rending.

But sometimes it’s the little hurts

The brutal stomps upon our pride

That nag us for the longest while

And over time get magnified.

I’ve heard it takes a bigger person

To forgive and forget life’s pains.

We think revenge, we spout invectives

When ’tis better to release the chains.

Calm yourself and ground yourself

In beauty and in peace.

You’re special, valued, and capable

Let your fears and worries cease.

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Time to Focus on Book Two

There’s only one person who needs a glass of water oftener than a small child tucked in for the night, and that’s a writer sitting down to write. ~Mignon McLaughlin, American journalist and author

Oh, how I can relate to this quote!!

It was hard enough writing my first book (well, actually my “debut” novel was my third book, but who’s counting except me?)

I didn’t set a timetable for completion, so when I finally typed The End — and realized how long it had taken to get there — I was ashamed. Why so long?

Life intervened.

I had a son to raise. A business to run. Other glittering things that captured my attention, like beading jewelry, blogging, Twitter, learning to play the flute. And eventually, taking care of my aging mom.

While I like to tell myself I’ve learned from that process, I’m not fully sure I have.

Life is still intervening as I try to pull together my next novel.

And I don’t see that changing.

After all, most writers don’t have the luxury of doing nothing but write. We have to cook, grocery shop, go to the doctor. We have to pay bills, do taxes, read, sleep.

(Like that feature in one of those supermarket tabloids that shows photos of celebs doing “ordinary stuff” the rest of us do — and looking pretty ordinary to boot.)

Sometimes I imagine how lovely it would be to focus all my attention on writing. To shun everything that doesn’t result in words on the page. To rent a cabin in the woods (or on a mountain, or by the sea) just so I can write. And I fantasize about taking an extended Amtrak trip for the same purpose.

But realistically, it’s not gonna happen. There are too many other things I want to do.

Too many other things I need to do.

So I steel myself to dig deep. Use the time I have wisely. Streamline plotting and characterization. Turn away from pretty things that sparkle. Stop procrastinating.

And accept the fact that tomorrow’s another chance to get it right.

Tomorrow is often the busiest day of the week. ~Spanish Proverb

Better Luck Next Year

Gardening is cheaper than therapy and you get tomatoes. ~Author Unknown

What a difference a year makes!

Last year, for the first time, I decided to try growing a tomato plant.

It succeeded. In spades.

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I got plates full of tomatoes, and they were delicious.

Just enough for our household.

Just enough to encourage me to try again.

So fast forward a year.

I bought the same type of tomato (Roma, also known as an Italian tomato).

I fertilized it the same way with Epsom Salt. Watered it on schedule. Even placed it in the same sunny location as before.

So you’d expect similar results, right?

Wrong. Take a look:

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Sad, isn’t it? I blame the weather — too hot and too rainy at the wrong times.

All out of my control.

On the plus side, I avoided hornworms and blossom end rot, two threats to Romas, but where did the leaves go? And why is the fruit congregated at the top of the plant?

Yes, I’ve harvested tomatoes, and they’ve been pretty good.

Small and few in number though.

Certainly nothing to share with the neighbors.

Oh, well.

A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself. ~May Sarton, pen name of Eleanor Marie Sarton, American poet, novelist, and memoirist