Liberty Blake's Blog, page 3
April 19, 2015
Spring Ramblings
Spring is here and I think it may be safe to say it has taken hold. Although, I do live in New England and this year winter hasn't wanted to leave, so it may still have a surprise of two in store for us.
I live in a neighborhood that has sidewalks. True we hadn't seen them since last December, but as soon as the time change went into effect, I started walking to knitting club. (I didn't want to walk in the dark because around here, people get hit by cars and the perps never get caught.)
The first week I had to walk in the street because the snow had not receded enough for me to be able to find the sidewalks, but the following week I was able to find half of the sidewalk, and now there is only snow left under some trees and in pockets in people's yards.
I do have to say, when you are walking without a dog on a leash people look at you strangely. I'm afraid walking to do errands, or just for the joy of it, has gone out of style.
Random thoughts on Spring!
I have noticed a lot of porches on my travels, but I never see anyone sitting on them. They might have a rocker or a porch swing on them, but they seem to be there only for decoration.
Whatever happened to people sitting on their porches, entertaining their friends, talking to their neighbors, or just plain knitting. I have always wanted a nice porch with a rocker so that I could sit and knit and watch the children play and the people zooming down the road.
This is not the house, just one I like. Notice the porch is hidden behind the blooming bushes.
I did see an oddity in my rambles last week. A man was out in his front yard playing catch with his son. Most of the houses around here are cookie cutter houses, with unused porches and small patches of yard in which you never see anyone playing, especially not the children.
The ball playing was taking place in the yard of one of the oldest houses in town. It apparently had been the "big" house back in the day. It has Corinthian columns holding up the porch roof. A wrap-around porch, the kind with a circular area on the corner where you could place an entire suite of wicker furniture. It also has a sweeping front lawn. Dad and son were playing ball in the front yard.
It brought tears to my eyes, and reminded me of the things so many people are missing in their rush to gain.
Do you think they realize what they are losing and is it worth the gain?
Summer is right around the corner and will bring brilliant green.
I live in a neighborhood that has sidewalks. True we hadn't seen them since last December, but as soon as the time change went into effect, I started walking to knitting club. (I didn't want to walk in the dark because around here, people get hit by cars and the perps never get caught.)
The first week I had to walk in the street because the snow had not receded enough for me to be able to find the sidewalks, but the following week I was able to find half of the sidewalk, and now there is only snow left under some trees and in pockets in people's yards.
I do have to say, when you are walking without a dog on a leash people look at you strangely. I'm afraid walking to do errands, or just for the joy of it, has gone out of style.
Random thoughts on Spring!
I have noticed a lot of porches on my travels, but I never see anyone sitting on them. They might have a rocker or a porch swing on them, but they seem to be there only for decoration.
Whatever happened to people sitting on their porches, entertaining their friends, talking to their neighbors, or just plain knitting. I have always wanted a nice porch with a rocker so that I could sit and knit and watch the children play and the people zooming down the road.
This is not the house, just one I like. Notice the porch is hidden behind the blooming bushes.I did see an oddity in my rambles last week. A man was out in his front yard playing catch with his son. Most of the houses around here are cookie cutter houses, with unused porches and small patches of yard in which you never see anyone playing, especially not the children.
The ball playing was taking place in the yard of one of the oldest houses in town. It apparently had been the "big" house back in the day. It has Corinthian columns holding up the porch roof. A wrap-around porch, the kind with a circular area on the corner where you could place an entire suite of wicker furniture. It also has a sweeping front lawn. Dad and son were playing ball in the front yard.
It brought tears to my eyes, and reminded me of the things so many people are missing in their rush to gain.
Do you think they realize what they are losing and is it worth the gain?
Summer is right around the corner and will bring brilliant green.
April 10, 2015
Frustrated Writer
I would like to say that being a writer is all sunshine and roses, but that would be a lie.
The only career I have ever wanted since I was a child, in fact since I first learned how to read, was to be a writer.
I had dreamed of living in a cabin in the woods where I would write my books, which would be instant hits, and I would occasionally go to a party or two that my publisher threw in my honor.
In between books I would be a world traveler.
The words would flow from my fingers onto the page.
I read The Writer and Writer's Digest every month and began learning parts of my trade there weren't taught in English class. I took typing in high school so I could work the mechanics better.
From articles that I had read I learned that writers worked from home and lived in sweats.
I couldn't think of a better plan. One day that would be my life.
However, my plans were delayed due to motherhood and taking care of my grandmother. The sandwich generation skipped my mother and landed straight on me.
Now the issue with supporting and caring for others who are dependent on you, is that they like to have a secure roof over their heads, food on the table, and clothes on their backs. Those are things most newbie writers (especially back in the days of all books being published in paper) cannot afford to do without a day job. Well, I had a day job and a night job, and the writing I did was not enough.
Years later, the tools of my trade have switched from manual typewriters to word processors to computers. Long gone are the days when you had to retype each page until you had a relatively clean copy.
But the trade-off is having various companies hi-jack your computer for updates that you neither want nor need.
That happened to me last night. I had finally gotten into the rhythm where the words were flowing from my fingers. Then the screen went black!
The laptop would not turn back on.
Nothing!
I had to unplug and remove the battery before the stupid thing would come back on.
When I finally got back into my document and gone were hundreds of words. Hundreds!!!
I was so discouraged I shut the damn thing off and watched John Stewart and Perry Mason.
Here's to hoping the words come back today. Otherwise Microsoft is in the doghouse.
The only career I have ever wanted since I was a child, in fact since I first learned how to read, was to be a writer.
I had dreamed of living in a cabin in the woods where I would write my books, which would be instant hits, and I would occasionally go to a party or two that my publisher threw in my honor.
In between books I would be a world traveler.
The words would flow from my fingers onto the page.
I read The Writer and Writer's Digest every month and began learning parts of my trade there weren't taught in English class. I took typing in high school so I could work the mechanics better.
From articles that I had read I learned that writers worked from home and lived in sweats.
I couldn't think of a better plan. One day that would be my life.
However, my plans were delayed due to motherhood and taking care of my grandmother. The sandwich generation skipped my mother and landed straight on me.
Now the issue with supporting and caring for others who are dependent on you, is that they like to have a secure roof over their heads, food on the table, and clothes on their backs. Those are things most newbie writers (especially back in the days of all books being published in paper) cannot afford to do without a day job. Well, I had a day job and a night job, and the writing I did was not enough.
Years later, the tools of my trade have switched from manual typewriters to word processors to computers. Long gone are the days when you had to retype each page until you had a relatively clean copy.
But the trade-off is having various companies hi-jack your computer for updates that you neither want nor need.
That happened to me last night. I had finally gotten into the rhythm where the words were flowing from my fingers. Then the screen went black!
The laptop would not turn back on.
Nothing!
I had to unplug and remove the battery before the stupid thing would come back on.
When I finally got back into my document and gone were hundreds of words. Hundreds!!!
I was so discouraged I shut the damn thing off and watched John Stewart and Perry Mason.
Here's to hoping the words come back today. Otherwise Microsoft is in the doghouse.
April 8, 2015
What the . . .
On Saturday I attended a memorial service for a dear friend's brother. I dressed in what I considered an appropriate manner for a visit to a church. (My dear old sainted Granny would have approved.)
On my way home I had to pass a certain chain store. On moral principles I don't like to go to that store, but as a matter of practicality, I must. I needed some storage boxes. (It's time to start putting away the winter stuff!) So I pulled into the parking lot.
I had to park at the far end of the lot, but even the high winds didn't cause me any dismay, since I like the wind. It just meant I had to hold my long skirt down, and I left my cloche in the car.
Yes, Saturday was the day before Easter, but even that doesn't explain the chaos in the store. The shelves were in disarray, the aisles were impassable, the people were rude. The store was understaffed.
Plus they didn't have the size boxes I needed!!!
However, none of that deterred me. I managed to find several unplanned items to buy. I arrived at the check-out registers and as I pushed my cart into line a nasty empty-handed woman ran in front of me and her much slower husband followed a few moments later with a filled shopping cart which he shoved between me and the woman. He couldn't fit and he stuck out in the aisle like a bully shoving his way into the lunch line in middle school. (It was an express line.)
They were ruining my good mood. (In spite of the solemn occasion I had attended, it had been a pleasant day to spend remembering the past with friends. The sun was shining. I was out of the house alone!!!) In order to curb my impulse to be rude to the nasty line cutters, I moved over to another line.
I was friendly and smiling at my cashier. To my amazement and what is probably a once in a lifetime thing, (for that store) all my items rang up at the correct prices, and I was leaving the store still happy.
As I approached the doors a worker in a blue shirt stepped forward. I was surprised because usually they greet you on your way into the store, not out of it. I smiled at the woman and would have kept walking, but the woman approached me and apologetically asked to see my receipt.
I smiled at her and though mystified, I complied.
I didn't have any electronics that would set off the buzzers. I didn't have any big ticket items. (The most expensive thing I had bought was a fairy tutu and wings for my Little Princess.) And my purse was so small I could barely fit my NOOK into it. But I pulled the receipt out of a bag and showed it to her.
In the meantime, all the people who were shopping in their pajama pants or holey sweats walked by unmolested by the greeter.
Had I been picked to be inspected because my silky skirt and combed hair weren't normal wear for the store?
Was this reverse profiling?
On my way home I had to pass a certain chain store. On moral principles I don't like to go to that store, but as a matter of practicality, I must. I needed some storage boxes. (It's time to start putting away the winter stuff!) So I pulled into the parking lot.
I had to park at the far end of the lot, but even the high winds didn't cause me any dismay, since I like the wind. It just meant I had to hold my long skirt down, and I left my cloche in the car.
Yes, Saturday was the day before Easter, but even that doesn't explain the chaos in the store. The shelves were in disarray, the aisles were impassable, the people were rude. The store was understaffed.
Plus they didn't have the size boxes I needed!!!
However, none of that deterred me. I managed to find several unplanned items to buy. I arrived at the check-out registers and as I pushed my cart into line a nasty empty-handed woman ran in front of me and her much slower husband followed a few moments later with a filled shopping cart which he shoved between me and the woman. He couldn't fit and he stuck out in the aisle like a bully shoving his way into the lunch line in middle school. (It was an express line.)
They were ruining my good mood. (In spite of the solemn occasion I had attended, it had been a pleasant day to spend remembering the past with friends. The sun was shining. I was out of the house alone!!!) In order to curb my impulse to be rude to the nasty line cutters, I moved over to another line.
I was friendly and smiling at my cashier. To my amazement and what is probably a once in a lifetime thing, (for that store) all my items rang up at the correct prices, and I was leaving the store still happy.
As I approached the doors a worker in a blue shirt stepped forward. I was surprised because usually they greet you on your way into the store, not out of it. I smiled at the woman and would have kept walking, but the woman approached me and apologetically asked to see my receipt.
I smiled at her and though mystified, I complied.
I didn't have any electronics that would set off the buzzers. I didn't have any big ticket items. (The most expensive thing I had bought was a fairy tutu and wings for my Little Princess.) And my purse was so small I could barely fit my NOOK into it. But I pulled the receipt out of a bag and showed it to her.
In the meantime, all the people who were shopping in their pajama pants or holey sweats walked by unmolested by the greeter.
Had I been picked to be inspected because my silky skirt and combed hair weren't normal wear for the store?
Was this reverse profiling?
April 4, 2015
Crisis of Confidence
Wow! I knew it had been a long time since I last visited the Spell Room, but I was shocked to see how long it's been.
Last night I spent a couple of hours on the phone with a friend of mine. She is a good writer, but she has a busy work schedule, a lot of family stuff, and a crisis of confidence.
Unfortunately, it is a subject I know only too well.
Crisis of Confidence!
We all suffer from it from time to time. No matter what it is we do, at some point in our lives we all must face our fears.
And that is what a lack of confidence boils down to.
You may ask, what do writers fear? Here is the short list.
Will my readers like my story? My Characters? Will my book be any good? Will it be as good or better than the last book? Can I finish this book? Will anyone want to read my book? Will it sell?
These are not questions we can easily answer, and in fact, they can't be answered until we write the damn book.
As they say, the proof is in the pudding.
Last night I spent a couple of hours on the phone with a friend of mine. She is a good writer, but she has a busy work schedule, a lot of family stuff, and a crisis of confidence.
Unfortunately, it is a subject I know only too well.
Crisis of Confidence!
We all suffer from it from time to time. No matter what it is we do, at some point in our lives we all must face our fears.
And that is what a lack of confidence boils down to.
You may ask, what do writers fear? Here is the short list.
Will my readers like my story? My Characters? Will my book be any good? Will it be as good or better than the last book? Can I finish this book? Will anyone want to read my book? Will it sell?
These are not questions we can easily answer, and in fact, they can't be answered until we write the damn book.
As they say, the proof is in the pudding.
October 5, 2014
On the Road Again . . .
I love to travel. I keep my passport close in case a handsome billionaire sweeps me onto his private jet for a romantic rendezvous. (It happens often in my dreams, perhaps they are prophetic! At least one can hope.)
As a result of this nomadic love I have for new scenery I am ever ready to be a traveling companion for my friends and family.
Tomorrow I leave for a few days in beautiful Canada with two of my favorite authors (and friends).
Hannah Howell the creator of luscious Highlanders. http://www.amazon.com/Hannah-Howell/e/B001HN35I8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
And J.M. Griffin author of cozy mysteries. http://www.amazon.com/J.M.-Griffin/e/B0074JH1HU/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
I may be out of touch for a few days, longer if I run into an exciting man. He doesn't have to be a billionaire, but he does have to have a functioning . . . brain.
See you later, alligators . . .
As a result of this nomadic love I have for new scenery I am ever ready to be a traveling companion for my friends and family.
Tomorrow I leave for a few days in beautiful Canada with two of my favorite authors (and friends).
Hannah Howell the creator of luscious Highlanders. http://www.amazon.com/Hannah-Howell/e/B001HN35I8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
And J.M. Griffin author of cozy mysteries. http://www.amazon.com/J.M.-Griffin/e/B0074JH1HU/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
I may be out of touch for a few days, longer if I run into an exciting man. He doesn't have to be a billionaire, but he does have to have a functioning . . . brain.
See you later, alligators . . .
October 2, 2014
Congratulations, Ginny
Congratulations, Ginny LaMere, you just won!!!
Which scarf would you like?
Which scarf would you like?
September 28, 2014
Winner to be Announced on October 1st!
On October 1st one of my beautiful scarves will be leaving me to go to a lucky follower.
Will you be that lucky person?
I hope so.
If you are not already a follower, it's not too late!!!
The follow button is to the right, at the top of the page.
Will you be that lucky person?
I hope so.
If you are not already a follower, it's not too late!!!
The follow button is to the right, at the top of the page.
September 24, 2014
Summertime Memories
With the passing of summer I found myself reflecting on the summers of my youth.
When I was nine my family moved from the city of my birth to a neighboring one. Both cities were in the suburbs.
The city of my birth was largely white collar, upper middle class, with large playgrounds, beautiful green spaces, tennis courts, statues, a small lake for swimming, and lots of tree shaded streets.
This was the entrance to the playground.
The new city had factories, the only playgrounds were attached to the schools, and were utilitarian, with very little equipment, and no trees.
I missed my old playground with its abundance of swings and tall slides, so one day I convinced the girl across the street to join me on a bike ride to my old neighborhood.
We packed a picnic and headed out. Our little legs pumped up and down hills and through traffic. We had to stop often and sit on rock walls to drink our water. (Back in those days we didn't have cool, unbreakable bottles, we had to use thermoses that still held the old milk smell in them from our school lunches. Back then primary schools didn't have cafeterias. You ate your lunch out of a cool lunch box if you were one of the lucky ones, or old scrunched up brown bags if you weren't.)
We rode for hours (most of it uphill) and never made it to the park. Donna really wanted to go home, so we headed back.
We both got into trouble that day for being gone so long, and Donna wouldn't make the trip with me again.
But I did make it there before the summer was over. I spent a lot of the summer being punished, but I made it to my park with the brook flowing through it, and the swings that brought me close to the tree tops.
I never gave up until I had reached my goal.
That is the way I have always lived my life. Some goals are easy to achieve, you can complete whatever task it is in a matter of hours. You do it today, and unless it is childbirth, you forget about the journey in a week or two.
Some goals may make you start over and over again. Your muscles might ache from the strain, your lungs burn from the pressure. People may call you foolish and try to dissuade you, but if the goal is really, really important to you, you never give up, no matter what the obstacles, no matter how long it takes.
It doesn't matter if no one else believes in you as long as you believe in yourself.
If you don't believe in yourself, you will never succeed, even if you have thousands of people who do believe in you and are cheering you on from the sidelines. If you don't believe you will never be able to get off the ground
So hang in there and believe. Then spread your wings and fly.
Fairy dust only works if you believe.
If you are not already a follower of the Spell Room, please click on today. The button is right here ====>> below the links for The Misplaced Bride.
There is a contest that is only open to followers and it closes on September 30th!!! (See the blog below for more details.)
You pick one.
When I was nine my family moved from the city of my birth to a neighboring one. Both cities were in the suburbs.
The city of my birth was largely white collar, upper middle class, with large playgrounds, beautiful green spaces, tennis courts, statues, a small lake for swimming, and lots of tree shaded streets.
This was the entrance to the playground.
The new city had factories, the only playgrounds were attached to the schools, and were utilitarian, with very little equipment, and no trees.
I missed my old playground with its abundance of swings and tall slides, so one day I convinced the girl across the street to join me on a bike ride to my old neighborhood.
We packed a picnic and headed out. Our little legs pumped up and down hills and through traffic. We had to stop often and sit on rock walls to drink our water. (Back in those days we didn't have cool, unbreakable bottles, we had to use thermoses that still held the old milk smell in them from our school lunches. Back then primary schools didn't have cafeterias. You ate your lunch out of a cool lunch box if you were one of the lucky ones, or old scrunched up brown bags if you weren't.)
We rode for hours (most of it uphill) and never made it to the park. Donna really wanted to go home, so we headed back.
We both got into trouble that day for being gone so long, and Donna wouldn't make the trip with me again.
But I did make it there before the summer was over. I spent a lot of the summer being punished, but I made it to my park with the brook flowing through it, and the swings that brought me close to the tree tops.
I never gave up until I had reached my goal.
That is the way I have always lived my life. Some goals are easy to achieve, you can complete whatever task it is in a matter of hours. You do it today, and unless it is childbirth, you forget about the journey in a week or two.
Some goals may make you start over and over again. Your muscles might ache from the strain, your lungs burn from the pressure. People may call you foolish and try to dissuade you, but if the goal is really, really important to you, you never give up, no matter what the obstacles, no matter how long it takes.
It doesn't matter if no one else believes in you as long as you believe in yourself.
If you don't believe in yourself, you will never succeed, even if you have thousands of people who do believe in you and are cheering you on from the sidelines. If you don't believe you will never be able to get off the ground
So hang in there and believe. Then spread your wings and fly.
Fairy dust only works if you believe.
If you are not already a follower of the Spell Room, please click on today. The button is right here ====>> below the links for The Misplaced Bride.
There is a contest that is only open to followers and it closes on September 30th!!! (See the blog below for more details.)
You pick one.
September 13, 2014
Contest!
Sometimes I'm good and I talk about writing subjects, and sometimes I'm bad and I spout off about other things. You just never know what is going to be the topic in the Spell Room.
I am running a contest for my followers. I you are not already a follower it is easy to become one . . . just click the button on the right -> (Below The Misplaced Bride.)
The prize is a beautiful hand made scarf, worth $30. (I made it myself!)
Black Lace.
It will make a great fashion accessory or gift for someone. (After all, the holidays are coming up.)
Purple Snakeskin
OcelotThe contest ends on September 30th and the winner will be announced on October 1st.
Peacock Blue Lace
The winner gets to pick which scarf!All followers (old followers and newbies) names will be placed in a hat and the LittleGuy will randomly choose one. Remember to check back often and see what is happening in the Spell Room!
I am running a contest for my followers. I you are not already a follower it is easy to become one . . . just click the button on the right -> (Below The Misplaced Bride.)
The prize is a beautiful hand made scarf, worth $30. (I made it myself!)
Black Lace.It will make a great fashion accessory or gift for someone. (After all, the holidays are coming up.)
Purple Snakeskin
OcelotThe contest ends on September 30th and the winner will be announced on October 1st.
Peacock Blue LaceThe winner gets to pick which scarf!All followers (old followers and newbies) names will be placed in a hat and the LittleGuy will randomly choose one. Remember to check back often and see what is happening in the Spell Room!
September 7, 2014
Summer and Clothing Choices
I was driving down Main Street the other day and I saw a young mother pushing her child in a carriage. The young woman had on a lovely black dress with a halter style neck and cutouts around the back arms and shoulder blade areas. From the front it was modest, no deep cleavage, in the back you could see most of her black bra with neon blue trim.
My thought was, "Wow! She looks great!"
Back in my day I would have had to go braless or not wear that dress." And as a young nursing mother there was no way I could go braless!
Now all you young women are wondering what the hell is this old crone is talking about.
Back in the day, most bras were utilitarian and ugly. Unless you did your shopping in a Frederick's of Hollywood catalog (only, there were no stores in the malls, and Frederick's was notorious for it's cupless bras and crotchless panties) you were stuck buying the same bras your mother and grandmother bought at the local department store.
There were no Victoria's Secret stores in the mall. There were barely any malls in those days and going to one was a major adventure in driving and shopping.
Our exterior clothes were sexy, but our "foundation" left a lot to be desired. (I find it ironic that there are erotic pictures of women in the old industrial girdles and bras plastering some sites on the internet. They never looked that good on the average woman back in the day.) There were no thongs. G-strings were something only a stripper wore. And if you did have one, you didn't advertise it by having it hang out of the back of yours jeans.
At my last occupational therapy session a woman came in for her session and the therapist complimented her on he tank top and she especially admired the way no bra straps showed. They then went into a long discussion on how horrible women looked with their bra straps showing.
Old dingy white bras look terrible, but bras now come in a wide variety of colors and strap types,
Most tank tops come with straps ranging from halter, spaghetti, crisscross, to industrial strength. If you want to wear a bra under most tops you will end up with straps showing.
I would rather you show your straps than your nipples. Because most summer tops will show your nipples if you do not wear a bra.
What do you think?
My thought was, "Wow! She looks great!"
Back in my day I would have had to go braless or not wear that dress." And as a young nursing mother there was no way I could go braless!
Now all you young women are wondering what the hell is this old crone is talking about.
Back in the day, most bras were utilitarian and ugly. Unless you did your shopping in a Frederick's of Hollywood catalog (only, there were no stores in the malls, and Frederick's was notorious for it's cupless bras and crotchless panties) you were stuck buying the same bras your mother and grandmother bought at the local department store.
There were no Victoria's Secret stores in the mall. There were barely any malls in those days and going to one was a major adventure in driving and shopping.
Our exterior clothes were sexy, but our "foundation" left a lot to be desired. (I find it ironic that there are erotic pictures of women in the old industrial girdles and bras plastering some sites on the internet. They never looked that good on the average woman back in the day.) There were no thongs. G-strings were something only a stripper wore. And if you did have one, you didn't advertise it by having it hang out of the back of yours jeans.
At my last occupational therapy session a woman came in for her session and the therapist complimented her on he tank top and she especially admired the way no bra straps showed. They then went into a long discussion on how horrible women looked with their bra straps showing.
Old dingy white bras look terrible, but bras now come in a wide variety of colors and strap types,
Most tank tops come with straps ranging from halter, spaghetti, crisscross, to industrial strength. If you want to wear a bra under most tops you will end up with straps showing.
I would rather you show your straps than your nipples. Because most summer tops will show your nipples if you do not wear a bra.
What do you think?
