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!

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.

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.  

ODE TO WINE, NaPoWriMo, Day One

ODE TO WINE
by Tammy Petry

I sit
exhausted
propped on pillows
sipping red wine
from a large blue glass
by the bare bulb of my lamp

The air around me is cold
but I edge deeper
into the layers
of quilts and blankets
that remind me of times
and of loved ones passed

My feet are warmed
by the large orange tabby
who never leaves my side

As I savor
the crisp tangy wine
I wait
for that magical moment
when my skin
flashes hot
and I can feel my pulse
throbbing in my fingertips

(thump thump thump)

I am pleasantly warmed
from head to toe
and everywhere in between
and am finally able
to close
my
eyes
and release
the thoughts and worries of the day

I allow sleep
to gently come over me

Just as The Morrigan
takes the newly departed from the battlefield
so I succumb to Dionysis' embrace
and allow myself to be carried off
like a child
like warrior
into my sleep.

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.

Back Roads and Life Lessons

Photo courtesy of "Traveler On the Backroads" 

http://www.facebook.com/TravelerOntheBackroads

I wrote a brilliant post last night which was inspired by this photograph. Somehow, between "Publishing" and "Posting" it got lost in the ether.  So, now it is morning, I have fresh, hot coffee, and I'm attempting to resurrect a bit of last night's wit and genius.  I may not recapture the exact phrasing, but I think I've been able to express my overall train of thought. 

Life lessons and back roads.

LIFE LESSONS

I've lived in many different places over the years.  Some were good, some were great, and some were downright atrocious (Arkansas comes to mind immediately!).  Through it all, I've always retained my love for rural Virginia.  I'm originally from the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia and if I were a Theist I'd call it "God's Country".   For various reasons, I've moved away and come back home several times in my adult life.  I've never really been happy living anywhere else but here (Boston was a close second.).  Each time I moved somewhere outside of Virginia, I felt extreme homesickness.  At first I thought it was just an adjustment period.  When it didn't pass, I knew deep in my heart that I was longing to be home again.  I'd move home and be oh so happy, then fall into complacency and begin to take everything for granted.  Life would happen and I'd find a new adventure to carry me away again.  The last time I went on a "Grand Life Adventure" was 2009.  I won't get into the details here and now (maybe another day) but I will say that I moved from a rural area of the Shenandoah Valley to the suburbs of Little Rock, Arkansas.  Ugh.  I had lived in the mid-west back in the late 80s up in Kansas City and HATED IT.  Perhaps time erases some of those memories or perhaps I was just blinded by love.  Whatever the case, I KNEW BETTER and did it anyway.  I had multiple alarm bells going off in my head but I pushed them aside, buried them, and continued on in my blind pursuits. While I was in Arkansas, I was happy for the first three months and miserable for the last 14 months.  When the relationship tanked, I became insanely homesick.  I cried buckets of tears of Virginia.  It was so bad that when I watched Virginia Tech college football, I'd gaze at the screen hoping and waiting for the camera to pan up for a shot of the mountains.  I'd watch YouTube videos see video here of the Valley and break down sobbing.  I knew then that it was time to go home.  I'd taken for granted all the wonderful beautiful things I had grown to love about my home.  The changing of the seasons, the friendliness of the people, the local markets and shops, the smell of the earth after it rained, snow, winter, see video here wood stoves, history, the mountains.  All these things made me immensely happy and I didn't realize how much they truly meant to me.  

While I was in Arkansas, one of my hobbies was doing my family genealogy.  I got very involved in it and enjoyed looking up my heritage. I learned a lot about both sides of my family.  I was sad because I wanted to go to all the places where my family had lived, loved, and died.  I found out we even have our own mountain and cemetery in West Virginia.  (Scott Mountain if ya must know.)  

So now that I'm home, I've vowed to appreciate everything around me and to NEVER take anything about Virginia, or my life, for granted ever again.  Also, I've promised to always be true to myself.  I will never compromise who I am, what I believe, how I feel, or the way I dress, talk, worship, or vote.

I try to view everything in life as a learning experience and to take life lessons from each event.  The lessons I learned while living in Arkansas were as follows:

1.  Never EVER ignore your intuition.  If you hear warning bells, STOP.  Think. Re-evaluate.

2.  Never compromise who you are for ANYONE.  It's akin to selling your soul.  Actually, that's just what it is.

3.  Treasure your home, your ancestry, your customs, your traditions.  Be proud of who you are and where you come from.  (I fought this for many years but I am now proud to say I am a Daughter of Appalachia!  More on that later, perhaps its own blog post?)

4.  Speak your mind.  You don't have to be hateful or rude, but always be honest.  Don't suppress things that hurt you or bother you.  If you're unhappy, say so.  I wasted too much time trying to pretend I was happy when I knew I wasn't.

5.  Family is everything.  Love them and cherish them while they are here.

6.  Take NOTHING  for granted.  Ever.  I mean NEVER.  

BACK ROADS

Back roads are like the veins that carry my life blood.  Back roads represent everything that is pure and good and honest.  Back roads are my Broadway, my Beale Street, my Ventura Boulevard.  There is kindness to be found on a back road.  There's a spiritual connection with Nature to be found on a back road. 

Imagine you're walking down a country lane.  It has recently rained and there's a nice breeze blowing. The wildflowers on the sides of the road sway in the wind.  The flowers are an explosion of yellow, purple, blue, and fuchsia. You can smell the rich aroma of dark damp earth.  A butterfly flutters in front of you.  Birds sing in nearby trees.  The sun comes out and caresses your face.  The gravels crunch with each step you take.  Are you there?  Can you feel it?  These are things that move my soul.

Whenever I'm faced with a choice of taking the Interstate or taking a back road, I will choose the back road every time.

So today, I challenge you:  Take a detour.  Go smell the flowers, literally.  Find your own back road and savor it.  

Blessed Be to all.

Namaste.