You can see a glimpse of the clothes line through the trees.
I don’t often shoot these sunrise shots. We face the west, so the highlight is usually the sunset, and we often ignore the sunrise. From our view, we don’t see the morning sun hit the water. Before now, I’m not sure why I have neglected this view.
(un)Wordless Wednesday.
At the end of my exam, my gynecologists always looks me in the eye (I’m sure she does this to all the moms) and asks me this:
Before you had children, you probably imagined yourself as a beautiful swan, having lots of children around you, because you loved children, and that’s what you wanted around you in your life. If you’re not acting like a swan, and you don’t like how you behave toward your children, it’s time to get some help. This is why God invented crock pots, mommy’s helpers and children’s television. Use them.
I try to explain that it’s just not that easy. I probably do need a Mommy’s Helper; but really, that would be just one more person in the house to take care of, so, I’ll do it all myself, thank you. And besides, a really nice Mommy’s Helper would soon get scared away anyway.
I opened a wedding invitation that came in the mail, but I couldn’t read it because it was written in one of those curvy scripts that look decadent, but you cannot actually read the words; especially when you’re in your 40s. I just didn’t have the time to focus on all of those swirls… it was annoying. But I did notice this: one of the last names on the participants was the last name of one of my college friends.
She lived down the hall; a beautiful girl, and she ended up going back home and marrying her high school sweetheart after all of that college stuff. So, she married a few years before me, and her two boys are a few years ahead of mine. Since she moved back home, we’ve obviously lost track. To be honest, I’ve lost track with people who only live 10 minutes away; if we’re not on the same sports team, I probably won’t be seeing you.
But here, in the midst of all the chaos of little boys that ensues my life; the picky eaters, the towels on the floor, the endless laundry, the fighting and bickering, I paused to reflect; “Wow. It’s over for her, and I am just a few years behind her. This will soon be me. My friend’s little boys are now all grown up; one is getting married, and that empty nest is happening to her; in her life right now. I bet she’d give anything to have that train track winding under her feet while she cooks; the sound of their tiny voices. Geesh, it went fast.”
“Let this be a lesson,” I reprimanded myself. “This all passes far too quickly to complain; enjoy the boys while you have them.”
A few days passed, and I picked up the invitation again, and I noticed that it’s a fancy black tie wedding on the beach in Malibu. The driving instructions include which airlines to take. “Wow,” I thought. What kind of prima donna is her son marrying? And, whew, is he going to have his hands full keeping this princess happy.
I picked up the phone to call my friend, and to say, “Wow. I can’t believe you already have a boy that’s getting married! Time really does fly.”
“What?” she asked? “He’s only 14? What are you talking about, he’s not getting married!”
I looked at the invitation again to read it to her; turns out the invitation is for someone on my husband’s team; someone he met once; yet she’s invited the whole team to her fancy Malibu wedding. His last name just happens to be the last name of my friend.
So, phew. Enjoy yourself. Complain all you want about the kids. Time really doesn’t fly after all.
He told us everything; he left so much unsaid.
I became more intrigued just as he was jetting off to catch a plane, and the group interview with Nicholas Sparks, author of the book, Nights in Rodanthe, (and The Notebook
Sparks cited Dickens’ famous sentence in literature, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” as the epitome of literary efficiency. “I would be considered lightly edited,” Sparks says, because “one of the tenets under which I write is efficiency… efficiency is incredibly important to develop in quality literature.”
He told us everything.
When asked how he is able to write such well-rounded female characters, he said, “I have not the slightest idea.” Although he does have a standard group of answers, all true: “I had a wonderful mother. I married very well. All of the most important people in my life at the present time and throughout my publishing career have been women.”
He also told us how he writes half of a novel, and sends this to his agent, a creating writing major, who does a pretty significant line edit. “She suggests deletions of passages.” From there, the book goes to his editor, “who fills in story gaps.” And if you’re wondering about timing, “I could do, for most of the vast majority of my books, a total editing process of less than 24 working hours.” His first book was the same.
He sold pharmaceuticals, but didn’t want to do this for the rest of his life. He had a wife, kids and a mortgage, and wasn’t interested in climbing the corporate ladder. “So, I asked, what can I do in my spare time and chase my dream and try to make it? What could I conceivable do?” He had already written two novels, one at 19 and one at 22. “So when I sat down at 28 I said Okay, I’m going to give myself three chances to write a novel and if I don’t succeed, then I’ll know I’m not cut out to be a writer.”
The first novel, which he wrote over a six month period, was The Notebook
What He Left Unsaid.
Sparks’ book, Three Weeks with My Brother
“By the time I went it felt almost as it it was a burden to go. And that is a shame because that reflects an imbalance in your life. And to correct that imbalance took time.”
The answers to the puzzle of how Sparks corrected that imbalance can be found in his book, Three Weeks with My Brother. So, Mr. Sparks, what new revelations can you share with us as the book left your heart? A book that was difficult to write, because of the challenge of “reliving experiences that I’d rather not get emotionally close to again,” he said. “There were tragedies that struck my family and I needed to go back to those places, to put you back there.”
After he admitted he will take such a trip again, he was asked, “Has your wife taken a similar trip?” No, he said. “Does she plan to?” Sparks said, “Maybe not three weeks, but without question, she will.”
Will there be a Three Weeks With My Brother Part II? Still, I”m left wondering, why isn’t his wife taking a three week trip, reaping the benefits of the lesson her husband learned about correcting imbalances in one’s life?
Get rid of fruit flies easily with this 6-step method to zap a fruit fly: Remember, to keep the fruit flies away, you’ll also need to clean the drains.
This is the fruit fly trap you’ve (I’ve) been looking for. The ultimate death trap for fruit flies. And yes, Mom was right; you can catch more flies with honey. And yes, the fruit fly is breeding, living and laying eggs in your drains. There’s no doubt that the fruit fly is smart. Most fruit flies will figure a way out of the trap we’ve set for them. But I’ve out-witted them. You really won’t have to spend a dime on this trap, as you already have the stuff in your pantry. Plus, I have some expert advice from Asapest.com.
I’ve seen fruit flies hover around the top of a wine glass, and mate, and then I have 2 million more fruit flies. They don’t drown. They have figured out a way to fly up through the tiny pin hole in saran wrap that was designed to trap them. I’ve watched them crawl around the outside the rim of a wine glass, knowing better than to fly in, because they’ll drown. The traps I set turn into breeding grounds for more fruit flies. I even sprinkled odorless Boric Acid Powder around their favorite resting spot, my bathroom mirror, and they crawl around it. Read more below for the how-to’s on this awesome fruit fly trap.
To keep them away, follow these tips from Asapest.
Every night I sprinkle baking soda down the kitchen sink. And, a little bit in the tray in the refrigerator underneath the ice and water dispenser.
To keep them away from bananas and tomatoes, I sprinkle baking soda on them as they sit on my counter, and wash it off right before eating.
This is hardly about thinking when you were 10 that when you turned 40 you would be old; and then becoming 40, and discovering that you don’t really feel that old. Being 40, you may, or will discover, to your delight, is much like your 20s, only better. When you’re in your 40s, you’re old enough to have all the legal fun you want; and most likely, you have more money to do it with. In your 40s, you already know what it is you want. The 20s are the era of exploration; the 40s are the era of actually getting what you want.
People in their 40s are fascinating to watch. Now, with so many of my friends in the becoming 40, and in the 40 age range, I am surrounded by people who are discovering the deepest yearnings of their heart; the funny thing is, none of them were looking for the deepest yearnings of their heart. They were content living their lives as upstanding adults; many are husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, some are single, childless and travel around the world. But suddenly; there it is, like the Holy Grail, all spelled out in front of them. And the Grail demands changes.
This I have observed. People in their 40s secrete hormones that are not unlike adolescents. These hormones make it difficult for those in their 40s to sleep; a deep seated restlessness seems to attack at 2 a.m., and sometimes leads them to think horrible thoughts that, under morning’s light, make no sense. Insomnia reigns, leading to tiredness, irritability, and the feeling of “getting old,” of course. (Here’s a hint: Heed those stirrings, and the symptoms will leave…)
The hormones seem to awaken primal parts of the their brains and sometimes make them think about doing crazy things; things that threaten the survival of their career or family. Those who heed the musings of the heart seem to go through a period of traumatic upheaval and pain that touches everyone in their intimate circle. The lives of many of the 40-year-olds I know are sometimes more interesting than the tabloids at the grocery store; they make the shenanigans of adolescents seem like, well, child’s play.
The prospect of seeing what the heart wants, and realizing this may involve a re-ordering of life’s priorities, can be terrifying. Much simpler, we believe, to simply ignore those constant tapings on the door of the soul. This can lead to misery; putting a lid on the heart, closing down walls and siphoning off the heart so that it can no longer feel the ache of missing something; while at the same time stunting the heart from feeling the joy. Because it is, after all, the presence of joy that takes us to our heart’s desire. I wonder sometimes, if this is the cause of all of those anxiety attacks, muscle aches and illnesses; the heart is screaming for the soul to wake up and following its path.
Suddenly, joy has become a dangerous thing. Joy will demand that you cut off anything that is not serving you; like the dead branches of a tree.
When I see that upheaval face-to-face, I am always caught in some sort of awe-inspiring revelation. That once mousey husband, who always seemed so irritated, is transformed into an outgoing, successful carpenter – who now has a new wife. His eyes glisten, and, really, “I do think he looks more handsome now.” Every time I see this conversion, I am amazed beyond belief; what was once misery has been transformed by simply aligning one’s purpose with the joys of their own heart.
Still, some have the courage to look at the heart’s yearnings directly in the eye, and try to see if there is a way they can make some small, minor modification to realign life’s priorities. To their delight, they often find that this one small step seemed to have opened up the entire universe. Options that never once existed are spread out like a table laden with food and jewels. They followed the musing of their heart and escaped through the tunnel without a scratch; they remain unscathed; their intimate circle is equally unharmed, and miraculously benefits from the afterglow of joy.
A friend gently told me this when I was in my 30s: When you cross the street, you will have left an opening around everyone who once stood beside you. They will begin to act differently just because you moved. This, they cannot do, until you cross the street.
It’s up to you to make the move; so that the lives of those around you can be transformed.
Living an authentic life requires an inordinate amount of courage and introspection. Those in their 40s are just beginning to understand the gravity of the responsibility we have to our own lives. You might be able to get by living someone else’s dream when you’re young, in your 20s. But this will never hold up when you reach your 40s.
Your soul will demand that you fess up, pay attention and align your life with your heart.
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