Kathleen J. Shields's Blog, page 18

A Very Leprechaun Christmas

Last year I wrote a funny poem/story for a company Christmas card. While it was sent to all of their clients, I felt it was fun enough to share with everyone else this year. Disclaimer: There is talk of alcoholic beverages. May not be appropriate for children.

‘Twas the evening ‘fore Christmas and all was asleep
Except for the Big Man and his reindeer peep.
They were blasting through snow clouds, delivering gifts
When Rudolph began sneezing and throwing some fits.

They jerked to the right. Then to the
left.

The sled was all jostled and cracked from the heft.

Suddenly the magic that made the sleigh go,

Began pouring from the backside in a sparkly flow.

Directing the reindeer towards the first
empty field

He landed that sleigh, hopped out a kneeled.

He took in the damage when the reindeer moaned,

All knew this Christmas would be postponed!

Santa was pacing, bleak and upset.

He was shivering cold and his feet were all wet.

Giving up was not him, but the sled wouldn’t fly,

‘Twas no way the reindeer could get back in the sky!

Since Santa was hungry and wanted some
grub,

He was in Ireland, so he strolled to the pub.

He ordered hot cocoa with a jigger of Schnapps,

When a Leprechaun, began busting his chops.

“What ye be doin’ on this Christmas Eve
night?

Sitting here drinking when things aren’t right.

You’re supposed to be delivering gifts to the world.”

Santa lowered his head and his eyebrows furled.

He explained what had happened. The
Leprechaun smiled.

He patted dear Santa like a sweet little child.

He said “Follow me, I’ll get ya back on yer way.

I’ve got the magic to fix up yer sleigh.

Santa hopped from his bar stool and the two went outside,
But when they found the reindeer, Santa cried.
They were sprawled on the ground, and each one grinned,
Cause every reindeer outside was three sheets to the wind!

“Now what will I do?” Santa exclaimed,

“This one’s my fault.” He sadly proclaimed.

The sleigh is all busted, the reindeer are drunk…

Santa felt horrid, his dashes were sunk.

The Leprechaun knew he could fix Santa’s
sleigh

but the reindeer not flying caused HIM
some dismay.

Yet as a typical Leprechaun, true to his name,

He pondered the problem like a puzzling game.

When the light bulb went off, he danced
him a jig.

Santa was worried when he looked at his rig.

This Leprechaun, he thought, was as sly as a fox,

His sleigh held together by tiny shamrocks.

The sleigh would be fine but the one who
would pull it?

Was a scrawny young chap that moved like a bullet.

He stood at one end, strapped the reigns to his hip,

Then started to pull with a hop and a skip.

And to Santa’s amazement and wide-opened
eyes,

They advanced down the field and into the skies!

A twinkling eye, he knew all’d be right,

As the sleigh on a rainbow soared ‘cross the blue night.

And I heard them exclaim as they flew
towards the coast,

“Oh hey, I brought Guinness.” And “Let’s have a toast!”

Kathleen J. Shields – December 2018

If you liked that poem, you may like some of my other poetry. Get your own copy of “A Rhyme for Everything” my new poetry book on Amazon today!

If you’ve already read it – would you consider leaving a review?

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For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness.

– The other day someone was tailgating me and flashing their high beams at me (at night). I was driving on a back road in my neighborhood where the deer and critters are abundant and the roads are winding. I got so angry.

– The other day my husband was rudely passed by a motorcycle that decided upon taking the lead then slowing down, drastically.  When my husband went to pass him, he sped up. Then slowed down, on purpose.  This angered him.

– The other day I received the hundredth call from the same telemarketing company that I’ve requested my number be removed from.  That made me angry.[image error]

– The other day the news did a report on….

– The other day in the store someone did…

It doesn’t matter except the end result was it made you angry.  And did you get angry for only a moment then move on with your life? Did you forget about that moment a moment later and think of something else? Most likely not. Most likely, you mulled over that moment, bitter, annoyed, irritated that that person, place or thing interfered with your life and caused you this outrage.  Most likely your face showed your heated feelings, your lips curled down, you forgot to smile at the cashier, you told your family about the incident when you walked in the door, you contemplated what you could have done.

I should have run him off the road!  But then I would have damaged my car, caused an accident, got a ticket or got arrested…  Glad I didn’t run that (grrrrrr) person off the road.

How many minutes went by?  How much of your life did you just lose to this nameless, faceless situation that will most likely never happen again, never meet again.  Don’t do it.

I know that’s easier to write than do, but think about it. Scientifically, anger is bad for your health.  You heal slower. It causes stress, heart problems, elevates the blood pressure, causes anxiety, can lead to depression, can even start someone drinking.

Why let a nameless faceless person do that to you? Take a deep breath, clear your mind and let it go. Don’t talk about it again, don’t bring it up when asked how your day was, don’t think about it. Let it go. Take a deep breath, use a stresssball, exercise, listen to calming music (or fun energetic music) ask a friend to tell you a joke, anything but taking retaliatory efforts or stressing about it further.

For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness.

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Where do I find the time for it all?

Why I am I working so hard on my writing? Why am I putting so many books out? Why am I writing so many blogs? Where do I find the time for it all?

It’s the fact that time is running out that is pushing me so hard towards finishing these goals.  God gave me all of these stories; stories I have been writing for years, since high school, since before high school. Things that I have started but haven’t finished… come close to… but alas, haven’t finished.

Time got away from me the past decade or so.  Working, surviving to make ends meet, exhaustion after work, just regular life stuff left no time to focus on my dreams. And as I get busier work-wise (or hopefully book signing wise) I may let time pass me by again, but I will try not to.

Why?  Because once I am gone there will be no one left here to do it! Who is going to follow my dreams for me after I die? No one! They have their own dreams to follow.  Who’s going to finish my books and publish them after I am gone? No one, those that can will be doing for themselves, and why shouldn’t they?

The fact of the matter is; we are ALL running out of time.
[image error] Whether it’s the best of times, or worst of times, it’s the only time we’ve got. – Art Buchwald

Our lives could be over tomorrow, have you accomplished everything you wanted to do?  Have you said everything that needed to be said? Have you done all that you had planned?

While I imagine I will be around for quite a while longer, the truth is, I don’t know when it will end and that is something that really bothers me.  While I doubt I will get the chance to finish everything on my list (it is rather long after all) I do want to feel a grand sense of accomplishment as I go.  I don’t want to meet my maker with the feelings of regret as I had when I looked back on the past decade of work and nothing else.

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The Great Cookie Debacle

Twelve weeks ago I attended a meeting for a craft show I was interested in exhibiting at. It wasn’t the typical fill out the paperwork, send in your money and show up the day of the event kind of show – no, this event was a week-long consignment opportunity that sounded amazing! So who was I to question their very specific requests? Pre-meeting to discuss details three months before the show, online inventory entry, printing labels, volunteering time – that was all easy, understandable tasks that I would have done any way, the one thing that struck me as an odd request was the requirement to bake cookies. Six dozen of them even!

Immediately
my hand shot up. “Can I buy cookies from the store?”

“No.
They must be handmade.”

“But
I don’t bake.”

“You
can pay one of our volunteers to do them.”

I thought to myself, how silly, I should be able to do this. How hard could it be? Besides…. My husband does all of the cooking, he can do it. I later asked my husband for his assistance after detailing all of the wonderful opportunities this show was bound to present. He gave me this look like, but I don’t bake, and yet I suggested how hard could it be? So he conceded and time passed by.

Four weeks ago my husband went to Costco for some much needed groceries. One of which was sugar. We use quite a bit of sugar in this house between coffee, tea and Kool aid, so he was looking for a 25 pound bag. He saw the Imperial sugar 50 pound bag but that was too much, then he saw the Imperial 25 pounder right next to it. He heaved that bag of sugar in the cart and kept shopping. The next morning, we discovered that it was brown sugar and let me tell you, that is a shock when you are in desperate need of sweetening your coffee. So after a good amount of time and a few sips of brown sugar coffee I posted my husband’s hilarious mistake on Facebook – what kind of author would I be if I didn’t provide a little comedic relief every once in a while? I then asked my friends for brown sugar recipe ideas and someone suggested cookies.

Ooooh – I thought. I need to bake cookies for the consignment show. I need to bake some insane amount of cookies and we have an insane amount of brown sugar… SCORE!  So I found the easiest recipe (the one with just a few ingredients) for brown sugar cookies online and added a few ingredients to my grocery list. I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter wasn’t going to work in lieu of real butter. I have never had the need for self-rising flour. And I’m pretty sure Vanilla Vodka wouldn’t be a good alternative for the vanilla extract the recipe asked for. We’re Irish after all.

So with all of the ingredients and recipe printed, I added the item to my online calendar and went about my days. Three weeks later on a Sunday afternoon my husband asks, “So what are we going to do for the rest of the day?”

“Bake cookies!” I declare with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.

His
eyebrow raised slightly. “This calls for a martini.” He spoke as he walked over
to the wet bar.

So
we both made a couple of drinks and waltzed into the kitchen. “Where’s the
recipe?” He asked. I pull it from the drawer. “What do we need?” So I pulled
the ingredients. In our house, I’m the sous-chef. I’ve been known to burn
boiling water, set the microwave on fire with raspberries and burn my hand
trying to retrieve toast from the toaster oven. So I get to tell him what the
directions say and sit back and watch the ordeal play out.

After
pulling out all of the ingredients he had me read the instructions to him,
“first step – mix the softened room-temperature butter with…”

“Hmmm,”
he interrupted “this butter is stone cold. Guess we have to wait for it to
soften.” He spoke while take a sip of his martini.

“Can’t
we nuke it?”

“That
much I know you can’t do.” He declared. So we waited. We drank. We watched TV.
Three quarters of an hour-long drama in, we checked on the progress of our
softening butter, was dismayed by its lack of progress and returned to the wet
bar to replenish our drinks. (I feel a Julia Child joke coming on but I’ll stop
while I’m ahead.)

What
seemed like many hours into the middle of the afternoon, we finally began
mixing our ingredients together. The butter and brown sugar was a bear and
that’s when it occurred to my husband that when it said “mix” in the recipe, it
was referring to the use of an electronic mixer. Well we didn’t have one of
those – we don’t bake. So he started looking through the drawers for an alternative.
“Ah, the electric mashed potato stick. That ought to work.” Do you know what an
electric motor burning up smells like? I do. But our cookie dough was done, so
we put the electric stick in the freezer to cool off and I started the search
for something to use as a cookie sheet. Nope, no need for a cookie sheet, we
don’t bake. One brownie pan and two pizza pans later I began spooning small dollops
of dough out. I was feeling very successful so far even with the smell of
burning electrical components wafting into the air.

I
continued reading the directions, “preheat the oven to 375.”

“This
is a convection oven; I’m setting it at 350.”

“But
the directions say 375.”

“They’ll
cook too fast.”

“Ah,
it’ll be fine. They wouldn’t have put it in the instructions if it didn’t
work.” So against his better judgement we began baking at 375. 12 minutes
later, the timer went off, we pulled out our cookies and attempted to shove a
spatula underneath them. That spatula buckled like a wet paper towel. I
found one that was a little more ridged, handed it to my husband and he tried
again… it chipped the edges of the cookies but otherwise reacted like a
crash-test dummy. So we pulled out the rolling pizza cutter.  This was
a pizza pan after all. While our cookies looked like some geometric science
project that Alton Brown may find intriguing, they were definitely NOT anything
I wanted to bring to the show. The good news is the dogs love them!

I was heartbroken. Not only had I failed at baking these cookies, I was afraid I wouldn’t have cookies to bring to the show and they were a requirement. I mean, I could have brought them these but it wouldn’t have done them any good. Plus, that was only the first batch – remember, I had to bake 6 dozen! I wasn’t anywhere close! I was near tears as my husband walked away in defeat. All I could think about was calling the local grocery store and asking if they could bake a bunch of cookies at various sizes so it looked like some idiot baked them in her home. But that’s when my husband added to my dismay, “They would be able to tell they were store bought.” Seriously? Have I been missing out on something? (No, my mom never baked either. We were a Chips-Ahoy and Oreo house.)

Monday I did everything I could to take my mind off of the problem and when I couldn’t get it out of my mind, I opened up an email to the show coordinator and began to write to her why I was going to fail at my task. Before I knew it, the above story had been typed out and when I realized it may bring someone humor, I pressed send.

Apparently it made her laugh so hard she shared it with the kitchen crew. Quite a few of the ladies found enjoyment in my saga, enough so that the next morning there was a reply on my email with an offer that I wouldn’t have to bring cookies after all. But it arrived too late, and this was a good thing. You see, while my husband was out Monday he stopped at the grocery store, found a couple of packages of powdered cookie mix that all you needed was oil and eggs and they would come out perfect. In fact, this is the exact recipe as brownies, and I CAN do those!!! Monday evening I baked my cookies and had extra! They came out great and I was thrilled.  

Wednesday, I was telling one of the ladies about my cookie debacle and she giggled, she admitted she did no-bake cookies. No bake! Seriously? I didn’t know there was such a thing! This is all because of the brown sugar! Oh well, I’ll try to remember to know better next time… of course, I’m hoping there won’t be a next time. I’m a writer, after all. If you want me to describe a cookie in six dozen ways, no problem. But to bake ‘em? I’m going back to my first instinct and declare – I don’t bake. 

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Why is it that 2 wrongs don’t make a right but 3 rights make a left?

 

When traveling up north (I’m from Texas) I came across those crazy cloverleaf’s on the road. They are so completely confusing to us southerners who are used to simply making a left turn that I couldn’t wrap my head around them for the longest time.

If you look at it from overhead, like from a helicopter, you can see the method to the madness.  But when you are on the road and all you see is a curve framed by trees that you can’t see past, and you are merging with traffic, exiting immediately, doing another curve, merging with traffic, exiting immediately, doing another curve, merging with traffic… by now I’ve lost track of whether that was 3 curves or four and GOD FORBID it was four and I have to start ALL over again!  The dizziness, the headache, the oh my gosh why can’t I JUST make a simple left turn!!!

And then what is left but the wrong answer, that you totally will NEVER live down.  But what about when I am right? That hardly ever gets credit muchless remembered but one wrong move, one forgotten task, one little mistake, it is there forever.

Then there is the two wrongs thing… You accidentally break something you shouldn’t have even been messing with – wrong. You hide the evidence so you don’t get in trouble – wrong. But they find out anyway, so no right. But what if you throw in a third wrong, they ask you what happened and you blame the dog – wrong. Yeah, you’ll have guilt, especially if the dog gets in trouble… OKAY! Okay. I take it back! It was me! Why couldn’t that have been the left? You stood up. Accepted your punishment. Kept the dog from getting punished… that deserves a right, right? A proper left turn. But alas, no.  Because left is left and right is right and wrong is wrong no matter what… so exactly why do those cloverleaf’s exist then?

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It’s not Education if it’s Fun… It’s Enlightenment

Education – acquiring knowledge through teaching and instruction.

Enlightenment – giving or imparting knowledge by removing the dimness from one’s eyes or heart.

These two definitions talk about gaining knowledge,

the difference is the means to the end.

Learning lessons, through any experience that has a formative effect on the way one thinks, feels, or acts is education but finding the right mode of instruction is the key to turning on that figurative light bulb on top of a child’s head.

While there are definitely many children whose eyes sparkle with intrigue at the idea of going to school, most, usually gloss over. It’s not that school is not informative and educational, because it is.  It’s that children don’t normally find it fun.

Education tends to be structured lessons, back to back assignments and basically training. Reading is combined with assignments not available as intrigue.  When a child discovers on their own or through story-telling the excitement that can be found through reading, it becomes enlightenment.  When they are told to read, it becomes an assignment and any story gets lost to that glossed-over effect when that happens.

When education is fun, that’s when a child gets the most out of it. That is why I’ve worked so hard to make my stories fun and light-hearted.  Encouraging the light in a child’s eyes is my goal.  While providing a likeable role model, Hamilton Troll, and presenting situations and problems in a fun rhythmic way, my objective is to teach children how to respond to situations and deal with problems while preserving the light in their eyes.

When a child acquires an understanding of something you can see the light go on. The sparkle in their eyes illustrates the importance of education yet if it’s fun it’s enlightenment and that’s always a winner.

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You can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.

[image error]
Life is hard.

When it is easy, it seems that it is only the lull before the storm. Something will happen. Something will test you. Something will make you want to cry. Whatever it is, those tears need to be shed. Whether in silence at night when everyone is asleep or bawling and screaming in the car, you are human. You are emotional. Let it out.

Pray to God to hear your cries. Ask Him what you need to do. Then listen for his response.

He will respond.

It may not be the response you want to hear. Maybe it will be. But either way, listen for his response. We can not do it alone. We must ask for help. We must seek guidance.

We must let the rain happen.

We must wash these times out of our souls so we can have that rainbow. So we can shine. So we can be presented as new.

A life of happiness and bliss would be nice, but no rain means drought, death. We won’t grow. We will sit stagnant and go nowhere if we aren’t pushed to embrace something beyond our walls.

Life’s pain makes us stronger.

It tests our limitations and forces us to become more. When it rains, it may seem like it will be raining forever, like it is never going to stop, but it will. And when it does, the sun will come out. It will warm us, and dry us, and brighten our life. Then we can look up at the beauty of our rainbow and smile, knowing we are better for it.

[image error]

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Desire is the talent that makes new things possible

Wanting something very badly does not automatically give you talent for it.

[image error]  – I want to be a rockstar!

– I want to be an actress!

– I want to be a multi-million dollar business tycoon!

What you want is only the beginning.

It is what you do to get to that goal that will get you there.

If you want to be a rockstar you need to take guitar lessons or go to band practice.

If you want to be a business tycoon you may need to learn about business.

And if you are going to make it big you have to dream big, work big and be big.

But the first thing to know is that the desire is the talent that makes new things possible.  If you desire something, that will make you work for it. You will learn about it, practice it, go for it.  You may not have been born with a talent for singing but I’ll bet you can learn. You may not have started with a talent to write but if you have a story in you, I’ll bet you will find the way to write it.

The point is; the I want, will not lead to I will become, unless I work for it and try.

So what do you want?

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Do you ever worry about writers block?

[image error]Writers block can definitely be a problem. So can deadlines. How can you write something on a deadline, especially when you don’t know what to write about?

This reminded me of those weekly journal reports we used to do back in high school.  For ten minutes we needed to write in our journals.  It could be about any subject we wanted, we just needed to write. My biggest problem was being put on the spot.  How could I write about something for ten minutes without having an idea of what to write about?

I always started looking around the room at my other classmates and noticing how some of them knew exactly what to write about while most were just staring at their paper, pen in hand, stuck.

One time I asked my teacher how I could write when I didn’t have a topic and she simply said, “write about what you are thinking.” I’m thinking I have nothing to write about. “Then write about that.” I thought she was nuts. But I just recently found that journal entry and this is how it began:

Ten minutes to write and nothing to write about. How can I write for ten minutes with no subject? I need a subject. I can’t just write what’s on my mind, my mind is blank. It’s weird, having a blank mind. I usually don’t. I’m constantly day dreaming, especially when there’s something boring being said but I can’t think of a single day dream now. This is kind of stressful. I know I’m on a deadline. That, at the end, those who want to share can stand up and read their journal entry to the class.  Actually that’s more stressful than not being able to write. Of course I wouldn’t dare read this entry aloud. People would think I’m nuts. I don’t like it when I get those weird looks and laughs. People can be mean. It really sucks how mean they can be.  I’m a good person, why isolate me and make me feel inferior? Why….

 

One of these days I may share the rest of this journal entry but needless to say it finished up on the subject of bullying and has led to some really good questions in life.  I have written about the subject of bullying and how to stop it.  Hamilton Troll even has an encounter with a mean rat named Rudy (coming soon) but to stick with the topic…

Never worry about what to write about, writers block or deadlines. Just write.

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Stop waiting for life to start

The other night I woke up in a panic, out of breath, with thoughts of all of the things I needed to do, that were coming up, and I was looking forward to. From Christmas wrapping, shipping and giving, parties, dinners and events, to upcoming readings, tradeshows and work.

Again I realized that all of this planning, preparation, and waiting was taking away from my life’s moments. The day God gave me was being overlooked for the future not promised, and I caught my breath.  I realized again that this looking forward must stop.

Life is not waiting for us to get there. We are already here, living it. It’s not about the party coming up, Christmas eve service or even Christmas day. It’s about this very moment. Every second of today. Who is with you. Who is waiting for you to come back from your planning to be with them.

At this moment I am blogging instead of being here with my husband so I will stop and leave you with this; when you are done reading this, look around and see what God has in store for you today, right now. You don’t even have to plan for it.

 

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