Dear Life by Barbara Quinn

I’m grateful to be alive and in good health. As the years have passed I’ve witnessed a lot of sad and just as many happy events. Life in all its wondrous circuitous paths has been full and often insane. That’s good news. For I love the company of other creatures. I am a better person for that contact.

How wonderful it is to go through this journey with friends and family. When I’m alone, I’m never really alone for I know that soon I’ll be with people who care, people who are broad-shouldered enough to allow me to unload. Where would I be without them? I’d still be me, but I’d probably be babbling to myself. Wait. I do that. Just not out loud. I’d be babbling to myself out loud. I’d be the kind of old woman people move away from instead of toward. Oh my.

Treasure the ones you love. Hold them close. Give them space. Do whatever you need to do to allow them to be themselves, and be happy. Life is too short. These may sound like clichés, but oh, they do have more than a kernel of truth at their center. Be grateful for life. I am.

Mug Love by Angie Ledbetter

{Photo by Angie Ledbetter}

Bad Ode to Yon Vessels

Oh, coffee mugs, coffee mugs, I love you.
Without you here, what would I do?

*Smile* and good morning to all you coffee or tea drinkers. If you have a collection of favored mugs like I do, you'll understand this post. If not, just come along for the ride anyway.

I love each of my mugs for different reasons, but like my children, I love them all equally. Let me introduce you to my seven favorites: Senorita is the cup with the fish handles my daughter brought home from her senior cruise to Cozumel in appreciation for helping with her trip. Muscle Gal comes from one of my sons' trips to a Boy Scout National Jamboree to NY. He said it reminded him of me -- "Mom, it's a little cracked from the journey, but still got good life in it." (How's that for a teenage boy's attempt at symbolism?!) At least the chip doesn't come near my mouth as I swill my coffee!

Now, Big Gulp (the green upside down mug) I love because I rescued him from the trash heap at the end of a garage sale. What a bargain at just .10! Atop him sits The Black Lion. I treated myself to this beautiful, shiny treasure at the Hotel Monteleone in New Orleans while attending the Pen-to-Press Writers Conference. Next is Choo-Choo, the cup I purchased to commemorate a trip taken a decade ago to Colorado when we visited the Silverton-Durango coal-powered train. I love that cup because it's so unique; when hot liquids are poured inside, the blackened windows of the depot open to reveal several train engines. Then they go dark again when the liquid cools.

The big one to the right with all the faces of literary masters? That's B&N, named for the bookstore chain where I found it. I love it for obvious reasons including its depths and ability to limit my trips back to the coffee pot. Last but not least is The Graveyard. The place we all finally wind up. It reminds me to carpe diem, encourages me to keep writing, and represents an actual friend's book -- Deborah Leblanc's Grave Intent.

Before you call me a complete nut, think about this: each of my "mugs" is completely different in size, shape and description, yet provides me with key elements for healthy survival -- gifts from their interiors! These gifts for which I am daily filled with gratitude are good memories, inspiration, comfort, continuity, and the essence of all that is good in my world.

Yeah, you guessed it, the mugs are just like my dearest flesh and blood friends! And as trite as my Ode and the following saying are, they are nonetheless true: My cup runneth over. And to my compadres: I love your mugs, inside and out!

Nothing and Everything by Angie Ledbetter

Coming up with gratitude items a couple of times a week isn't always easy...not that I don't have plenty for which to be thankful, but trying to think up a different thing each time takes a bit of work. There are the trite things I don't want to write about; those that everyone is grateful for, such as the freedom we enjoy in this country, our rights, the many material things we take for granted, healthy relationships, friends, etc. Then there are the life events that are hard to find a "silver lining" in.

So just for today, I'm going to breath in and enjoy every normal and everyday thing that comes my way. I'm going to take note of them, name them, and say a quick prayer of thanks because these items (good and plentiful food, family, a nice day, a working vehicle, my cell phone, shoes that feel good on my big feet, a reliable Internet connection, my 16-year-old Boston Terrier, my home) are "nothing" on the big scale of things, but everything in life.

Take stock of your everyday list of blessings, things that make you grateful, luxuries, rights, etc. and you will see a large expanse of goodness filling your life. Then when the inevitable poop hits the fan, it won't matter as much or seem like such a big deal. Yes, today is good and most days are good. I gather my daily small and large gifts around me like a warm angora blanket on the coldest of days. I hope you find such pleasure and happiness in the things that fill your life. In the end, they are everything!

Big Foot Barb by Barbara Quinn

In the midst of an intense weekend of pitching my latest novel, I looked in the mirror and saw a bright red rash spreading across my nose. I’m an allergic type so this was not unusual. Then the rash grew, and grew, and measles-like spots started appearing, first on my chest, then my arms, my back, and stomach. And my poor feet began to ache, especially my left one. I thought I’d been walking too much. No shoes were comfortable. I looked at my ankles. They were filled with fluid. Same for my hands. By the next day all my joints were stiff and filled with fluid and I was bright red and spotted everywhere. I soldiered on through the conference. There was a lot of pollen in NYC and I thought perhaps I was having a particularly bad case of pollen sensitivity.

Thank heavens for makeup and long sleeves. I covered up the red face and got some Cortaid cream to stem the itching. And I downed benadryl. Since my adrenaline was pumping, the usual antihistamine fog was not that bad, though it was definitely there. That swollen left foot really ached across the top.

Once the conference finished and I headed home, whatever had moved into my system took up even more space. My head throbbed and a fever rose. I couldn’t go down stairs since my ankles could not bend. I started dropping things because my fingers couldn’t hold onto them. Off I went to the doctor. I spent time at the hospital having blood drawn, urine sampled. One guess is that I had a bout of Fifth’s Disease which is a viral disease that crops up most often in childhood.

After a few more miserable days, the redness and symptoms subsided. When my feet began working properly again I was relieved. I gained a real appreciation for something I’ve always taken for granted: the simple act of going down the stairs without having to hang on to the banister and thump my feet from step to step. And I’m grateful that I was healthy enough to fight this weird disease off! Life is hard and navigating it when you are ill is an incredible challenge. My hat is off to all who suffer from debilitating conditions. Remember that movie My Left Foot where the fellow could only communicate via his left foot? Well, my left foot still swells up on top, but I'm grateful that it's the only part of me that doesn't work. That's nothing to complain about.

Herbaceous Thoughts by Barbara Quinn

It’s time for planting my herb garden here in New York. This weekend I hit the garden store. What a delight it was to roam up and down looking at the beautiful flowers and drawing in the wonderful scents. In my neighborhood, the purple lilacs are already out in full bloom. The fruit and vegetable stand has dozens of branches of lilac displayed in the front of the store. And last week when I was in NYC the corner flower stands had cherry blossom boughs propped in cans to take home. What a wonderful idea. When we ate at a Moroccan restaurant the place was filled with the cherry blossom boughs. The downside is the wretched pollen that makes my eyes water and nose run, but that’s a small price to pay for the beautiful sights of the blooms. On the way to the garden center, I noticed that the ground was covered in the spent blossoms. The petals swirled through the air, nature’s confetti thrown in honor of spring.

My tarragon and sage have already come back without any help, poking out of the ground with the first warmth of the season. The sage has taken over far too much of the garden already. So has the mint, which I try to keep off in a different spot since it is the most territorial of herbs.

At the garden center, I picked up a couple of large pots of basil. You can never have too much basil in an Italian household. One of them went to my Mom who is 87 and still cooking for herself each day. I’m grateful for all her lessons, in cooking and in the garden. It’s her voice in my head that guided me in my search for my herbs. “Look at the bottom of the stem and be sure it’s not yellowed or black. Check beneath the leaves for critters. Is the plant happy looking?” After the basil, I selected Italian flat leaf parsley. “We use the flat not the curly," Mom said. Then thyme, oregano, and rosemary. Some of each went to Mom, a Mother’s Day gift she’ll enjoy, almost as much as the pizza well-done that we downed at Roma's on Saturday, accompanied by a pitcher of beer. Yep. She still loves her beer and wine.

Thanks for all the lessons, Mom, not only in the garden but in life. Who else was going to teach me how to save my Parmesan rinds to flavor soup and then serve them up for a tasty treat? Or how to roast peppers over the gas flame of my stove and then put them in a paper bag to steam before preparing?

I’m looking forward to muddling some of that mint for us for a spring Mojito!

Burdens & Stress by Angie Ledbetter

Burdens and stress are some of the bigger pieces of baggage most of us tote around on a daily basis. Sometimes we drag them like stones behind us, sometimes we’re able to shoulder them like a light backpack, and other times, we remember to put them down for a bit and just rest. The good thing about stress, obligations, responsibilities and worries is that they make us stronger people. They help us grow muscles where none previously existed. But we must also remember to get away from our baggage so it doesn’t become our whole identity or reason for living.

I was thinking about this recently when a friend sent me one of those rare Internet folklore emails that actually makes good sense. I don’t know who the author is, but it read something like this:

Whatever burdens you're carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can. Don't pick them up again until after you've rested a while. Here are a few ways to deal with life’s burdens:

*Keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.
*Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.
*If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.
*If you lend someone $20 and never see them again, it was worth it.
*It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply being kind to others.
*Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.
*Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.
*Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.
*The second mouse gets the cheese.
*When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
*Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.
*We could learn a lot from crayons...some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.
*A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

Wanna Swap? by Angie Ledbetter

It was a typical weekend full of “do this” and “do that” things. Let’s see...Friday started off with the awful 5:30 alarm clock. (Which reminds me, why am I always in the best sleep right when the alarm rings?) After morning carpool, I had 9 hours of working a school fundraiser. Next, my sister and I set up for a surprise 70th birthday party for our wonderful mom, and started early Saturday morning getting the final preps done. Afterward, there was clean-up to do and then home to my blessed bed. Sunday, I had “kid stuff” to do and a baseball parents meeting. Did I mention my house is still decorated for Christmas and the tree is still up? My carport looks like a bomb went off in it.

This morning, the alarm started my treadmill all over again and I started to throw a minor hissy fit when I saw all the clutter and chores gone undone all weekend by the kids (and myself). This led to thoughts of what other people must do on their weekends. My mind, selfish critter that it is, immediately conjured up all sorts of restful, fun, and relaxing events they're pursuing: movies, a weekend getaway, leisurely napping, dining out with friends, playing board games or poker...oh, the list was endless. Then I stopped to really think. Do others really, truly spend their weekends in idyllic ways? Probably not. Definitely not those with kids.

More than likely, they’re doing the same kind of things I am. They caught up on chores that slid by during the busy work week; they visited sick or elderly relatives and friends; they grocery shopped; they moved a parent into assisted living; they pined for loved ones out of town; they attended long days of school baseball or basketball games; they helped an ill friend; they worked a weekend job; they dealt with chronic pains or new ailments; they cleaned the yard. Maybe a few did get a shot at some real R&R for a change, but so do I.

In reality, there’s not a single person I’d change lives with. And that fact should shut my whiny, unappreciative brain up for a day or two!