Hey There! Merry --DE Stress-- Christmas

Merry Christmas!

Don't faint, I know it's been awhile.  I didn't have the umph to want to get online on one more site,you know there is a thing called overkill.

I've been busy  working on The Stick Page  on Facebook. In case you haven't been there, stop by and LIKE "The Stick Page." You won't regret it.
And I've been working on all kinds of other things that I find a little boring but necessary.
One thing I've done aside from  business is I've been making my own bread.  I love this. Weekly, two loaves of homemade goodness and the best air freshener ever. Yum. And it's my own therapy session too.



In the early stages of building your business or honing in on your craft there are details such as getting the contracts together, a necessary part of your business.  I also learned it doesn't matter who you are doing business with, draw one up. freebie, friend, family, or foe.  Do it!!!!! 



So in the meantime we are in the days before Christmas.  In all through this house it's quiet. I've had quite a year and am learning not to be sad over boredom (yeah right!) or a temporary phase of loneliness.
 A friend of mine reminded me while I was in one of those moods, Would you rather have your hoarder still living in your house (unbeknownst to me), or your possible squatter?  That slapped me back into reality so much so I got up and dusted something.

stick barb de-stresses

So in these coming days,when you feel the stress is too much, and no matter what you're involved in, put on some music and kick back --that's why there are gift cards and gift bags. And if you need a little extra help, I just read Suldog has a Christmas retail list available, almost one stop shopping. See, not to worry, and have yourself a Merry Little De-Stress Christmas now.

A Short Story: Autumn Leaves

I decided to dig through the trunk and update a short story I wrote a few years ago.  The fall weather had and has turned me melancholy once again.......I haven't written anything in a long time, it's comforting to go back to something I enjoyed.

                                               Autumn Leaves

 The weeks were passing quickly, making it difficult to shake the grogginess that had set over her.

He was a dear, we had helped each other through some of the worst of times and had some of the best of times, and it was hard to believe he was gone.    I sat back in my rocking chair thinking of the different places we had visited and the happiness we had shared.  Maybe you thought we were lovers, we weren't, just friends. We both agreed that was how we wanted it, just friends. Lovers tend to get stuck in details; friends make fun of the details, at least we did anyway.  Like the time we kissed, just to find out if what we were agreeing to was so, and in the enthusiasm of finding out we almost knocked our teeth out, boy did that ever hurt. If we had been much more serious about that kiss it could've been devastating. I went over that moment in my mind as if it were as monumental as the Great War. That’s an exaggeration of course, but my heart aches with sadness for my dear friend, my non-lover of loving moments.

As I stood, the blanket had slipped to the floor; I walked to the window shading my eyes from a random ray of sun. Looking out onto the back lawn, the colorful leaves were everywhere; there was a time we had loved to sit  out there and read, it was this kind of weather that drew us there.  We’d read not the classics, but from biographies. We'd choose any actor; I picked Rosalind Russell, we marveled at old Hollywood, the last time...the last time. We would read for a while, as the other gazed up at the clouds contemplating each word.  And then afterwards a walk  picking up different colors of leaves while we invented stories, it was plainly silly but we were friends and we were allowed that.

Someone was moving into the ole'  house next door, it had stood vacant for some time. It was a beautiful old Victorian house, like most lining the street.   It had a wrap around porch, gingerbread trim, many rooms to play hide 'n seek in and enough windows to line the pockets of an able bodied window washer. It was a slow process, but something to do,  watching someone else work, someone else with the energy to do more than sit and brood.

She stood there with her head on her arm lining the frame of the window, Belle; her housekeeper came in at that moment. Here's your tea, I'll set it over here. Can I get you anything else?
Oh no, thank you, Belle; I've been thinking you can go home early today. I'll be fine.
Are you sure?
Yes quite, there’s no point really, go enjoy the weather. 
I have dinner prepared; she smiled at the thought of  a walk in the  brisk October air.   I'll set it on the counter with the instructions and then lock up.
Thank you Belle, I do appreciate it.

She turned from the window and walked over to the bookshelf staring through the glass,  “A Streetcar Named Desire”, an “Encyclopedia of Opera”, and “The King”, referring to Clark Gable not Elvis. Mm, nothing looked enticing, not today, besides she had read most of them before. Probably time to make a trip to the ‘The Book Shop’.

Curiosity was twisting her arm, she still didn't feel like doing anything but the fall weather and new neighbors were nagging at her to go outside. She slurped, yes slurped the last of her tea, dropped the blanket on the chair and ran upstairs to change into something warmer. On her way down, pulling and rearranging the sleeves on her sweater  she remembered Belle had baked a cake yesterday. She hadn't even touched it.  She went into the kitchen to retrieve it from the cake tin making sure it was still whole and it was. She pulled another tin out, this one was her favorite, she placed it inside, latched it and made her way out the back door stopping to inhale that indescribably delicious smell, fall was definitely here and her friend was gone, but she had endless memories tucked away. Life goes on, she knew there were new friends waiting next door, there had to be, and new memories to make, as she clomped down the steps and crunched through the leaves.

By Barbara Lambert orig. 8/9/09 updated 9/28/12

Muse or Obsession?

Muse.  Do you or have you ever had one?




Muse Meaning and Definition (n.) A particular power and practice of poetry. (v. t.) To wonder at. (n.) To be absent in mind; to be so occupied in study or contemplation as not to observe passing scenes or things present; to be in a brown study. (n.) Wonder, or admiration. (n.) A gap or hole in a hedge, hence, wall, or the like, through which a wild animal is accustomed to pass; a muset. (n.) To wonder. (n.) A poet; a bard. (n.) To think closely; to study in silence; to meditate. (v. t.) To think on; to meditate on. (n.) One of the nine goddesses who presided over song and the different kinds of poetry, and also the arts and sciences; -- often used in the plural. (n.) Contemplation which abstracts the mind from passing scenes; absorbing thought; hence, absence of mind; a brown study.


I would surmise by the definition we have all, at any age, had a muse in our life.  My computer is a muse, but most would label it as an obsession, sometimes its a means to another muse.  Some muses are short some are long some should have never begun at all,  but  I would also bet we've learned from a muse.

My first muse, My slide.

At this time, school is a necessary muse followed by my laptop or whatever program I'm focused on.  Books have literally taken over my life, I would call it "A musing"...because I love the color, the call to detail of the covers not to mention what's inside, whether I understand or agree to it.  Baking was a past "a musement", eventually it will revert  to "is".


I collected turtles along time ago, but held out for what I really liked and stopping an obsession in it's tracks.  


I especially like the final two lines in the definition/meaning, absence of mind.  It's the definition of me, when I write. 
 I've been writing a book for the last few years  lost if you will,  within the lines during the summer months.  It's about that time again and I cannot wait.  I cannot wait to say hello to my characters and begin the adventure from the last word.  Take them on an unimaginable journey and lose myself in my muse  For me, that's the ultimate definition of muse.
 

Just a Word

As I sit here dealing with junk and crappy connections I am thrilled to be putting "pen to paper" so to speak. My very being has been so stifled because I have been disconnected to my computer. I have managed quite well for awhile replacing the tapping of keys to the steadiness of thread and needle.

But,

like a cup on the brink of streaming puddles, my ideas are just as ready to spill forth and hopefully keep the eyes busy and the heart happy.

I have alot to say and my fingers are itching to create.

All in due time.

Pay Attention!

I attended a writing class with about 6 students and one very entusiastic instructor.

What makes this class exceptionally different? Our instructor is a writer not an author he says. Never wants to be one, they are someone that has never been published or like Margaret Mead, she published one time, "Gone with the wind "and so was she after that. Of course the guy that wrote Men in Black is still living off Burger King sales and hasn't written another thing since. Not so bad under the circumstances and considering he got his ideas from an eccentric neighbor. Life lesson here is pay attention to your neighbors, crazy mother in laws, the women that walk their yappy little dogs and then they ignore the heck out of you. Pay attention in general. It helps when you are crossing the street especially.

My next challenge is to write a short story and this needs to be better, exceptionally better than the last few I have written. I'm challenging myself to go beyond my own expectations. But I need to be careful not to focus so hard I lose my creativity. Rosanna Rosanna Danna is on my shoulder right now. I want so badly to be published I'm willing to do what I need to do, to do it. Nike all the way. Just do it!