Gearing Up For the April #AtoZchallenge !

AtoZChallenge
April A to Z Blogging Challenge
Blogging A to Z
www.a-to-zchallenge.com
A to Z Participant 2014

It's coming!  The April #AtoZchallenge for all bloggers is fast approaching!  Starting on April 01 and continuing thru April 30, registered bloggers will write one post per day to correspond with each letter of the alphabet.  For example, April 01 blog posts will start with or pertain to the letter "A".  Bloggers may choose to write about a theme or decide to make each letter/post random.  I prefer random because it gives me more freedom to cover a variety of topics.  I tend to be eclectic like that.   So, stay tuned, the A to Z challenge begins in just under two weeks!  I can't wait!

Soul Mates and Cranial Rectumitis

Soul Mates:  The Perfect Fit

Soulmate

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A soulmate (or soul mate) is a person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity.^[1]This may involve similarity, love, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, or compatibilityand trust.



I believe in soul mates.  Do you?  If you do and you've ever been lucky enough to find yours in this lifetime, you will truly understand the depth of my feelings in this post.  Not everyone is fortunate enough to find that one heart, that one soul, that one truly compatible human being that makes everything sparkle with light and joy.  It's such a beautiful experience that mere words can't do it justice but for the sake of this post I will try to express it as best as I can.

A soul mate is that one person who "gets you".  He (or she) understands you in ways no one else can.  He has your same wacky sense of humor, your same love of all things Star Trek, is intelligent enough to discuss the physics behind the show, and funny enough to make you laugh when you're violently ill.  He will open doors, cook you meals, but is man enough NOT to take your shit and call you out when you're being a moody bitch asshole.  (Hey, I'm a very strong-minded woman and I can be a bit *cough* stubborn/bossy/whiny/moody/bitchy but he has been the only man in my life to call me out on it.  If someone you love is telling you you're being an asshole, you're PROBABLY BEING AN ASSHOLE!)  He was never mean or rude about it, but he is just man enough to say so.  We're both very strong minded individuals and I totally respect that about him.  A strong woman needs a strong man!  I can't respect a weak man.  Just can't.  Like I said, he is man enough to cook me a beautiful dinner, take me camping/fishing/shooting, rub my back, and he also knows when I need to pull my head out of my ass and get a fresh perspective on things!  It's so nice to have all of that in one package.  (I'm not saying he's perfect, he's not, he's just perfect for me.)

I was lucky enough to meet my soul mate in 1999.  Unfortunately, we were in different places mentally, socially, and professionally.  We both knew we were meant to be together but after trying for several years we called it off.  It was the most painful breakup I've ever experienced.  Yet it truly wasn't a "breakup" because time after time we kept reaching out to one another, both hurting, both yearning, yet both knowing it still wasn't right.  Now, at last, we have reconnected once again and it's as if all the pieces finally fit.  It just FEELS RIGHT. I'm going to be spending a long weekend with him soon and see how things are between us.  We have spoken several times a day for the past few weeks and it's as if time hadn't passed at all.  We feel different as people yet the feelings of love remain.  We've had time to mature and experience more of what we don't want and can now appreciate and acknowledge what we DO want...each other.

I don't know what the future holds but I do know this:

No one else has or will ever compare to him.  No one else will ever measure up to him.  He is the standard by which I've compared all others against.  

That may not have been fair but it was how I felt in my heart.  He is truly "The One" for me.  If things do not work out for us this time around, I am truly done with love.  He has my heart, he had it then, he has it now, and he will always have it.  I sincerely want things to work out between us this time and I have a lot of positive signs that they will.  I'm just saying, honestly, that if it doesn't, I am finished with love and romance.  I will throw myself into my work and become the neurotic crazy cat lady who writes books and lives in a remote cabin.

I'll keep y'all informed.

Here is Etta James singing, "At Last".  A true Classic. 

S is for Strange Dreams

Strange Dreams

I am being carried, effortlessly, by an unknown man.  We approach the rear of a large, shiny black trailer.  The back is open but I sense it is full... of blackness.  The darkness inside is somehow solid and thick.  Without speaking, the unknown man tells me to envision a comfortable room.  I begin to see what appears to be a television screen on the back of the trailer.  We continue walking towards it, closer and closer, and I begin to panic because I think, "He is going to put me THROUGH the TV screen and into the thick dark blackness that is in the back of the trailer."  He "tells" me in my mind to hold onto the thought of a comfortable room and to BELIEVE.  I somehow do and I feel us wading into the darkness, the thickness, the inky blackness.  I open my eyes and he is sitting me down in a room that is identical to my mental vision.  I am amazed and ask him, "Can I imagine some really comfy pillows too?"  He laughs and tells my mind "Yes, you can have the pillows too." He walks away.  To where, I don't know because the trailer has now become as large as a warehouse.  It's as if they found a way to compress space and mass, to alter reality or at least what we perceive as real.  Perhaps it's our perception that is wrong to begin with.

Another man, dressed in a dark suit, comes forward and begins "talking" with me.  I hear his voice inside my head but he isn't speaking, he's transmitting!  He tells me, "See, I can read your mind.  Don't be afraid, you  can hear me and respond to me in the same way." I form a mental response and send it out to him.  Out of habit, I begin to speak the words out loud.  He gently tells me, "There's no need for that anymore.  It's so much quicker to do it this way."  I agree with him and then I am alone in the room of my imagination...

F IS FOR FINALITY; A to Z Blogging Challenge

#AtoZchallenge

F IS FOR FINALITY

Originally, I had planned on a different subject to write about today.  I heard some very sad local news that touched my heart, and I was moved to write this instead.  

Today's post is inspired by the tragic death of a local man, Carroll Herring.  Mr. Herring was simply walking across the road to put the flag up on his mailbox when he was struck not once, but twice, by two different vehicles.  Both vehicles left the scene of the crime.  

According to a local man, Mr. Herring was hit at a high rate of speed and thrown into the air.  He landed in the highway where he was struck again by a different vehicle.  Both vehicles left the scene but Albemarle County police were able to track down and return one of the drivers. The other driver still remains at large. 

From local news sites:

"Police are actively looking for a second car involved in the crash that apparently also left the scene. The county's Crash Reconstruction Team describes it as a white Saab with moderate front-end damage." 

"Anyone with information that can help police is asked to call Crime Stoppers at 434-977-4000."

Carroll Herring was a 71 year old farmer and lifetime resident of the small rural town of Crozet, Virginia, which is where I reside. He loved growing an extra large garden and sharing his produce with the less fortunate.   I didn't know him personally but I do feel the tragedy of his senseless death.

My purpose today is just to remind you that nothing is promised or guaranteed in this life.  You should always be mindful of your own mortality.  Not obsessively of course, but everyone should really LIVE in the moment more frequently.

Too often we get caught up in plans for "tomorrow" and "next week" and "in five years".  Let me tell you something:  You might not be around for that.  I'm not trying to be a pessimist   Not at all.  I just think we should all seize each moment, NOW, and milk out all the happiness we can in the present.  Future plans are okay, but don't put off something you enjoy or love. 

Here are some of my other thoughts on Finality: 

Make each day count.

Jack Dawson, from the movie "Titanic", used that as a toast when he dined with Rose in the  First Class dining room.  I am a firm believer in that mantra.  

Do something you love, every single day.

Tell the people you care about that you love them.  Now.

Don't go to bed angry.

Smile. Often.

Help a stranger, no matter how big or small.  I'm a huge supporter of Pay It Forward.  Whether  it's a cup of coffee or a tank of gas. 

Perform random acts of kindness whenever you can.

I dedicate this blog post to the memory of Mr. Herring.  May his family find justice and peace in this tragedy.

Blessed Be to you all and thank you for taking the time to read my blog.  Comments are always welcome and I enjoy responding to all of you.

Photo from accidentin.com and CBS19 websites.  No copyright infringement intended.  Used for illustrative and artistic purposes only.  I honor his memory with this post.

D is for Diary; Blogging A to Z Challenge

D IS FOR DIARY

I've always kept a diary of some kind as far back as I can remember. I've always loved writing, so jotting down my thoughts, feelings, and personal experiences on paper just felt like second nature to me. I suppose its obvious that I chose "Diary" as part of my blog title. This diary is open to all of you to read. It's not private and that's my choice. I want to tell you about a different diary and how it felt having my privacy invaded and that choice taken away.

This is me in 8th grade, one of four students chosen to learn on this new thing called a computer. #atozchallenge

That's me on the flute, Christmas 1985, post-diary tragedy. #atozchallenge

It was the summer of 1985. I had just graduated 8th grade and was preparing to start high school that fall. I was almost 15. We were living in an old farm house, complete with barn, so I decided to have a good old-fashioned barn dance party and invite everyone from my eighth grade class. To my surprise and teenage delight, many of the "popular kids" showed up that afternoon. (I was, and always shall be, a huge, proud, nerd-band-science-math-geek!) We had Cokes and snacks, hung out in the barn, and I was thrilled when my best friend Sherri showed up.  There was music and lots of innocent fun until...

Sherri was dancing, spun around too fast, tripped and fell right on her face. Blood everywhere. I wasn't embarassed, I was concerned for my friend. My mom called her parents and herded my party guests into the house to hang in the kitchen. That was the idea anyway. While we were busy tending to Sherri and waiting on her parental unit to arrive, my "friends" decided it would be fun to go upstairs and sift through all my belongings. (Can you see where this is going?)

Once Sherri went home, I went upstairs to get my friends and try to salvage what remained of the party. My mom was making snacks downstairs in the kitchen. I go upstairs, turn my doorknob, and...IT'S LOCKED. I knock on the door. Someone asks, "Who's there?" I tell them it's me. There is much whispering ang giggling, then silence. I kneel down and look through the keyhole. I can see everyone sitting in a circle on my bedroom floor and one of the girls is holding my diary and reading it quietly to the group. I am mortified. Shame, fear, then anger wash over me. I start beating on the door, yelling at them to put the diary away and unlock the door. They laugh at me. Finally, I am so humiliated and sad I just cry. This makes them all laugh even more. My mom hears me crying and comes upstairs. She asks me what is going on. When I tell her I am locked out of my room and they are reading my diary and laughing, she changes. Quietly, her face turns red and she goes to my door. With three powerful bangs she pounds on my door with all the ferociousness of the FBI on a raid.

(Thanks to my dad, a police officer, for showing us how to do the "triple knock of terror".)

After the power knocking, my mom shouts to all of them to open this ******** door RIGHT NOW! Someone runs over and quickly unlocks it.

My mom marches in, looks around, and tells the whole room, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Everybody downstairs right now. This party is over. Take turns and call your parents to get a ride home or I will be happy to call them for you. You're not welcome in my house again, none of you. Go. Now!"

I have to admit, I was pretty proud of her. I was glad she threw them out. I don't know why I thought they were so cool to begin with. Real friends wouldn't behave that way and I knew they were only at my party because, well, it was a summer party.

Since that incident, I've been paranoid about what I write on paper and where I leave my journals. It didn't help that I later dated a man who routinely went through my things and afforded me zero privacy (his own insecurities). Today, I'm happy and confident (and happily single!) with what I write and where I leave it. It's taken me many years to get to this place of confidence and ease.

I could try to summarize and moralize this story but I'm not. It was just my memory of a time when some really selfish kids did a sh*tty thing to me at my own party.
I'll end by saying the most important part of the whole story:

My mom rocks. 

Thanks Mom.

I LOVE YOU.

C is for Calling Stephen King; A to Z Blogging Challenge

CALLING STEPHEN KING

(yes, I really did!)

The year was 1983.

I was almost 13 years old and already a die-hard Stephen King fan.  

That summer, I had just finished reading, "Salem's Lot" and I was hooked. The book was so good and the writing had moved me in such a way that I wanted to talk to the author.  I had to tell him that he had inspired me to become a writer as well.  I wanted to pour out my young heart and soul to this man whom I felt understood the dark passionate things that lived inside me too.  I felt connected to Mr. King in a way I hadn't felt about another writer.  It wasn't a crush, it was sheer love and admiration of a man who wrote about the demons and the dark side that were beginning to emerge and blossom in my adolescent soul.  

So, I picked up the phone and called him.

Let me tell you how THAT went ...Remember, we are dealing with early 1980's "technology".

I go to the kitchen and get the phone, take it into my room, pulling the cord under my door.  I shut my door and lock it.

I get my copy of "Salem's Lot" (hardback of course) and flip to the back of the dust jacket.  I know that he lives in Bangor, Maine.

I got my handy-dandy phone book and looked in the front section for area codes by state and region.

#AtoZchallenge

Finding the area code for Bangor, Maine (207), I picked up the phone and dialed (literally, rotary dialed) the following number.  If you are over 40, you'll recognize it immediately.

1+207+555-1212.

Back in the 80's, you could dial any area code plus the "555-1212" and be connected with a live, local operator and ask for a specific phone number.  This real person would then look it up and read it back to you.  Live.  (Really, I'm not making this up.)

I dial Bangor information and wait.  The operator answers in her thick New England drawl.

Operator:  "Bang-ah infahmation, what listing please?"

Nervously, I say, "Stephen King, please."

Operator:  "One moment please.(clicking and whirring noises in background) That numbah is two ah seven...(and oh how I wish I still had the rest of this information...)."

Me:  "Thank you."

Operator:  "Thank you for calling New England Bell."  (Click.  Dial tone.)

I place my finger over the handset cradle, resetting the call, and proceed to dial Mr. King's house just like a kid calling her uncle on his birthday.  I have no idea what I'm going to say or if I'll even get to speak with him. I'm not nervous,  just giddy with excitement.

A man answers on the third ring.

Man:  "Hello?"

Me:  "May I speak with Mister Stephen King please?" 

(my parents raised me to have impeccable phone manners)

Man:  "Speaking."

Me:  <shocked silence>  "Oh...HI!  Um, hi, um, my name is Tammy and I just wanted to call you and tell you I love your books and I want to be a writer just like you."

Stephen King:  "Oh, (chuckle) well thank you very much.  I'm glad you like my books.  (pause) Which one did you like?"

Me:  "Salem's Lot.  It's soooooooo good! It's really scary and I'm gonna read it again."

Stephen King:  "Glad you liked it.  So, you want to be a writer?"

(At this point I am THRILLED to be talking with my literary hero and the *famed writer* Stephen King.  I am ecstatic.  My heart is pounding in my chest, my tongue is doing knots and twists, but I manage to eek out a somewhat cohesive thought in the English language.)

Me:  "Oh yes, I love to write and I write all the time and I keep a diary and I do really well in English class at school."

(Floating on air and feeling like I've died and gone to Heaven,  I think to myself, "I am ACTUALLY having a conversation with Stephen-Freaking-King"--when I am rudely knocked back down into reality by...)

*POUNDING ON DOOR*

My mom (gawd love her):  "Tammy SUE! Is that LONG DISTANCE?"

Stephen King:  (background laughter) Um, ya know I should probably let you go now.   Ah don't want to get you in trouble.  Thanks for calling me though, I appreciate hearing from my fans. Keep writing."

Me:  "Okay, um, sorry, it's my mom. It was really awesome talking to you Sir.  I will keep writing, I promise.  I gotta go.  Bye."

Stephen King:  "Bye." (Click.  Dial tone.)

Me:  "Maahhhh aaaamom!  That was Stephen King! I'm totally embarrassed."

Mom:  "A boy?  You called a boy?  Who is Stephen King?  Was it long-distance?"

Whatever the 1983 version of the *facepalm* was, I did it.  It was probably something akin to an eyeball roll combined with an angst-y sigh.  

I still couldn't help but smile, even though our talk was brief and cut short by my mom's knocking.  From that day forward, I read every Stephen King book that I could get my hands on.  I never did call him back and I never told anyone his phone number.  I know I wrote about that call many times in my diary but I didn't brag about to my friends.  To me, it was something sacred that I wanted to keep to myself and treasure.  I cherish that memory but I thought it was time to take it out, dust it off, and share it with the world.  I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Well.  There you have it. 

My one claim to literary fame.

I'll never forget that phone call for as long as I live.

And Mister King, if you ever read this, THANK YOU.

I never did stop writing.

All images are either my own photographs or free public domain photos.  No copyright infringement intended.  Used for illustrative and artistic purposes only.  No part of this this blog may copied or used without giving proper credit to the author.  

A is for Abundance; Blogging A to Z Challenge

A IS FOR ABUNDANCE 

Sometimes, you just know when you've got it good. Sometimes things just align and fall into place so perfectly, all you can do is sit back and count your blessings with tears of gratitude in your eyes. I've had one of those days today. I am thankful for so many things...

Such as:

A dear friend and I reconnected today.
My cat, who had been feeling bad, finally ate and drank without throwing up.
My kids texted me.
I had a few dollars extra in my bank account.
The dogs I dog-sit for were well-behaved today.
The weather was beautiful.

As I sit outside, writing this blog post, I can hear the melodious song of peep frogs, a sure indicator that Spring is here in Appalachia.

I am blessed to have a great home, a fabulous housemate, and the freedom to pursue my passions of art and writing.  I may not be rich in dollars, but I am *rich* indeed.

Abundance is not always material.  Abundance is having a lot of what *YOU* place value on.  I love my work, my freedom, my kitteh, my home life, my friends, my time, my family, and Nature.  Money, sadly, seems like it will always be necessary in our modern society.  It doesn't have to define it or the way you live your life.  I am and will always be a Minimalist.  I have a few items I treasure but I don't attach a dollar value to my possessions. I don't seek to have the *next great thing*.  I don't follow fashion. I'm me and I'm happy to be of an age where I can say, "Take it or leave it!"

Yes, A is for Abundance and I am Abundantly blessed.

For that, I am *Abundantly* Grateful.

Thank you for reading.

Namaste.