Miss Molly

Happy last day of 2008!

This year has gone by so quickly—wow!

Happy anniversary to Molly! I brought her home two years ago today.

“It’s been a great two years, hasn’t it, Molly?”

Well, she’s busy sleeping.

She knew she was our dog and we were her people the moment she laid eyes on us (Roxzi and I).

The brief version of the story goes like this…

I was ready for another dog. Our dearest Dustie had departed in early 2006 at the ripe old age 15. Sheba, Rhett’s angel Husky went to her heaven that September at age 14. Our darling Rosie was getting old and nearing her time too. I was ready.

I was searching on the Internet through the shelters looking for the next perfect companion.
Three days before Christmas… there she was at the Seal Beach Animal Rescue—an absolutely gorgeous, 4-year-old, 80-pound Treewalker Coonhound!

I called immediately.. would have gone down there but my lovely little brother borrowed my car for 20 minutes (which turned into several hours) so no ride.

Roxzi and I were there the next day promptly as the shelter opened. We were paraded past and introduced to so many worthy pups.. but we were there to see Molly (whose name was Moxie at the time). Since Molly is such a big girl, she was all the way in the back of the facility in the big dog runs.

Roxzi arrived first. Molly in all her gracefulness and strength, rose on her back legs to nearly her full height staring Rox right in the eye. Then she looked at me. Our guide was amazed and said she hadn’t ever seen Molly do that to anyone before.

Roxzi knew right away. Molly knew. I knew.

Unfortunately, the shelter didn’t know. I went in to adopt. Filed out more paperwork then I did to buy my house. Waited a long while then the gal in charge informed me that another family was also interested in Molly.

She asked if I could come back the next day with other dog, Rosie, and son Max to make sure we were a good match.

You better believe Rosie, Max and I were there just minutes after the compound opened. It was Christmas Eve.

While we sat on a bench waiting for Molly in the warm December sun, an attendant with Molly in tow, marched right past us and presented her to the “other” family. Molly did stop to greet us, though.

The other family consisted of a mom and dad, three children under 10, a grandma and a nanny. Of course they were all very excited and ooooed and awwwed.

A few minutes later the attendant came over, sat next to me and gently told me Molly would be going with the “other” family. It was a better fit, and this would be their first dog.

I immediately teared up and could not speak. She teared too, and gave me a hug. She offered other dogs, but I would have none of them.. at least not then.

Heartbroken, Max, Rosie and I clamored back in Ella, my ’73 VW orange bug. As I was pulling out, Molly amidst her happy new family looked me full in the eye and perked her ears as she followed our departure. “Hey! Where are you going?” I could see the question on her face so well.

We bravely drove home, and being the mom, I kept comforting both Max and myself by repeating during the 30 minute drive home, “It just wasn’t meant to be. There’s another dog out there for us. It’s okay, we’ll keep looking.”

One week later, on New Year’s Eve, the shelter called. The gal told me that Molly was back and asked if I was still interested?

Oh my gosh! Absolutely!

Now both Roxzi and Max were out of town so I was home alone. I was worried about introducing her to the kitties and Rosie on my own so I asked my favorite fella, Tony, if he would help me out and go with me to collect. He didn’t hesitate to say “yes” and we were at the shelter within an hour. I can’t tell you how excited I was!

The shelter lady ran down all the rules of introducing new pets.. but I’ve been there, done that so many times… I knew there would not be a problem.

She was especially concerned about Molly and the cats being that Molly is an alpha female, and the nature of a hound is to retrieve small animals.

Tony was a darling and endured the lectures and was right there for me and Molly. I renamed her Molly on the way home which she took to right away.

We must have been a sight to see.. this huge dog’s head sticking out of one side of the bug, and her tail out the other.

She drooled terribly all the way home. I was worried about that, but I’ve since learned that she was just extremely nervous. She doesn’t do that anymore.

When we got home, both cats greeted us in the driveway. Molly proved no threat. She got on with Rosie just fine, and it was apparent that she was instantly part of the family.

Molly knew where she belonged.. she picked us.

Dustie and Rosie did too.. but those are other dog tales.

Thank you, Molly! Happy Anniversary!

Bye for now, all you beautiful Bloggers!
Happy New Year!

Thanks for the Memories!

I had a great talk with Rich German yesterday… no, make that Wednesday. He’s a personal spiritual and guidance coach. I’ve listened to several of his meditation calls and enjoyed them very much. Well it turns out to as a marketing ploy, he offered to have a free, one-on-one, personal coaching call with the first five people to sign up through his website. He had a whopping 250 people vie for the spots! On a whim, the sweetheart decided to extend his offer to everyone that applied!

So, he called me Wednesday morning precisely at 10am as we had arranged. He’s a super nice guy and we immediately hit it off fabulously. One of the first questions I asked him was about all the free calls; I told him my thought of, “is this guy nuts?” He laughed and replied that he was so overwhelmed by the response, he just decided to go for it, and thus far, it’s proved quite lucrative for him—he’s getting a lot of new clients.

He was very helpful and just plain fun to talk to (but of course, that’s his job—and he’s good at it cause he got me motivated).

He loved the idea of the Story Keeper!

So, here I am, folks.. keeping family stories and memories alive forever!

More to come.. but if you can't wait to get started, feel free to contact me today!

WINNER!

YAY! I'm over the 50,000 word goal... I did it!

Not an easy feat... I'm lost my tan. My kids and friends think I'm nuts (but they thought that before, so it's okay). My waistline has inflated, and my butt hurts!

But it was worth it!

Will I do again next year? Ask me next year.

I'm taking Molly for a nice LONG walk...

Cheers!

Middle-aged Adolescent Masterpiece

Lately, with the help of hand analysis, I’m beginning to see my true calling, but the closer I get the more confusing it becomes. I feel I’m on the brink of a breakthrough, but I just don’t know.

I had a call with Baeth Davis, the Hand Analysist. She was discussing the Persephone Line in our palms. Apparently, not many people have them.. I happen to be one of the lucky ones. I’m so friggin’ confused. The Persephone Line denotes shamanistic qualities, holistic and spiritual understanding, deep emotions… danger zone, depression (it can happen, but I tend to recognize it coming and can pull out quickly—because depression does not serve me.)

So, not only do I have the gift marking of the Persephone Line, I also have: the Apollo Star – Artist in the spotlight (and that’s my dominant one); moon stars – profound intuition and intuitive flashes; a Mars star (that I just noticed yesterday, but I don’t think I’m a weenie) – exceptional courage—no fear to be the underdog, flip side – anger/ rage (nope); Neptune stars – more mastering of deep emotions, deep understanding, the water-baby stuff; the Medical Stigmata – gifted healer, healer to healers, flip side to that is intimacy breakdown, I think I’m okay there (although, how many boyfriends have I had?).

And then I also have the girdle of Venus (doubled in places!) which is an indicator of hypersensitivity, in my case physical… yep, yep, yep.. that’s me!

So, I’m profoundly and intuitively able to feel deep emotion and see into the depths of people.. plants, animals and children in particular, and I imagine the reason to that is because they’re not closed up, they haven’t learned to block what comes so perfectly natural.

I guess I already knew all this stuff about me (gee, how could I not—I’m a deep thinker and already thought this stuff up—says so right in my hands ;-)) Now, I just have to figure out how to get it to serve me.

Baeth suggested I’d better get my artist butt out there in the spotlight, and write for the public eye! Okay world, so here it comes, my middle-aged adolescent masterpiece… the masterpiece of me.

Coming to a bookstore near you soon!

A "Flushing" Issue

Everybody, everyone in the whole wide toilet seat bearing world, should put down both the seat and the lid!

I’m so sick of hearing women complain about men leaving the seat up. Yes, there is not much worse that getting up in the middle of the night to go potty, not turning on the light (cause heck we really are trying not to wake up), seriously waking up by plopping into a cold bowl of potty water!

Listen ladies, fellas—you too! Men have to pick up the seat, why shouldn’t we do the same with the lid? And everybody, why can’t we all just PUT IT ALL BACK DOWN--AFTER EVERY USE??!!

Who in thier right mind really wants to look in the gaping hole of a toilet! Toilets are ugly enough as it is. Beautify your bathroom… just put the lid down. Men, you are stronger, and can pick up and lower both a lid and a seat in one action.. ladies, really it’s not that hard to equalize the action of just raising and lowering the lid. The lid’s there to close that ugly thing up in the first place.

Okay, enough on the topic of toilets.

Over 25,000 words with NaNoWriMo challange... half way there! It's all down hill from here (yeah... right :-/)

NaNoWriMo

Sorry to get behind here. I do have some qualifying things to say about the last entry, but I’ll get into more detail with that at a later date. I talked to Baeth (no typo – she changed the spelling of her name) again. She lessened my line of clairvoyance to a Mercury line. Mercury lines are more intuitive. But, she did point out a large Moon star, so back we go to the clairvoyant thing. What she said this time made more sense and pegged me better. I off the hook as a “Crisis of Meaning Consultant.” Still a spiritual healer, just in a different way more suited to me. Anyway, more on that later.

Besides enormous plumbing problems that has haunted me this past week (the house’s, not mine ;-)), I’ve taken on the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) challenge to write a novel (except mine’s more of a memoir) of 50,000 words or more—about 175 pages. I’m over a quarter of the way into it at almost 14,000 words and not too far off schedule.

The idea is to just write.. don’t edit, don’t fret… just write! It’s not that easy, as I like to go back and reread – fix; reread, add a little – fix; but I’m being good, I’m just getting my thoughts out. It’s a good exercise in diligence.

The good news is… the plumbing is repaired (I hope).

Nano Nanu!

Spiritual Healer?

Well, I listened to the recording of Hand Analyst, Beth Davis going over some of my gift markings with me again.

I did know about the Apollo star and that she was going to tell me that I was to have “fame and fortune in the arts,” and that I knew I wasn’t going to like hearing it… though I know that’s part of what I’m supposed to do.

But she also said, (and I guess that first part blew me away so much, I could hardly comprehend the rest of the call) regarding my “line of clairvoyance” and the fact that I have the “gifted healer” lines too, that my life purpose is… now get this… and I quote, “a Successful, Well-Paid, Spiritual Healer in the Spotlight.”

She also clarified I might want to call the position as a “Crisis of Meaning Consultant,” whereas I can help those who are finally beginning to see the light of spirituality, but need help and support crossing that bridge, or coming out of the “spiritual closet,” so to speak.

So, would that be, “Spiritual Crisis of Meaning Consultant,” or Crisis of Spiritual Meaning Consultant?” I don’t think I like the word “crisis.” But people are having trouble dealing with trying to understand and alter their beliefs.

I don’t have a problem with spirituality, so how can I help?

By supporting and pointing out the obvious to those ready to listen to their own inner wisdom.

The line of clairvoyance shows I am in tune to a “higher spirit radio,” as Beth puts it. (Reminds me of the old Bluegrass song.. “Turn Your Radio On.”) I know I’m in tune.. guess I just never knew how much. She said, according to my hands, I am a “Master of Universal Law.” Pretty cool, huh? Actually, I’m quite stunned cause hands don’t lie. Do I get a certificate or something?

I know that I get it, and I know that most people don’t and won’t until they are ready. And I do know that the collective consciousness is shifting (which is a relief). And now, somehow I’m here to help those starting to understand that there’s much more to life than what we were taught by our parents, tradition and society.

I think, it’s time to tell my tale. Kinda like my buddy, Tom Justin, an ultra-successful business coach, did. Just recently he came out of his proverbial "spiritual closet" and told the world of his remarkable experiences beginning when he was a young man. He, like me, never told cause people would think he was crazy. (And yeah, back then, they would have.)

So, as I sort this out further, I’ll draw a few pictures, restring my guitar, and begin pecking out my remarkable story for the world to know.

Ciao for now!

Artist in the Spotlight.. YIKES!

Last night, Beth Davis, my hand analyst, nailed me to the wall during her Life Vision Purpose tele-class about “gift markers in your hand.”

I was in the hot-seat and with my hand prints in front of her. First she said I have a line of clairvoyance, (a curved line running up from the wrist to the pinkie) meaning my intuition is highly developed and I need listen to my gut.

Then she got to what I was afraid of most… the huge Apollo star on my left hand.

An asterisk like star under the ring finger means “artist in the spotlight.” Artist part I get; in the spotlight is the terrifying. And the funny thing is… I knew she was going to blast me.

She did! And after the call was over, I couldn’t stop crying.

It was hard talking to her, being open and honest… an emotional authenticity thing… but I did. Beth congratulated me on stepping up to the plate, and said she could hear so much emotion in my voice. And that I need to get paid for what I do best, what comes naturally (well heck, it’s a GIFT), and what I love.

I haven’t done much drawing in several years (pen & ink), but it’s time to start up again. Oh, I know it could also mean guitar playing, or writing (writing.. the least of my fears), but all I could think of was drawing… I need to draw.

In tears, I called my fabulous fella after the class. I told him what she said. He concurred, and said he’s been telling me that for years. That I do wonderful work, and people will pay.

We were at the Getty Center a week or so ago, and came across and exhibit with pen and inks. He told me, “You can do that!” I could only stare at the works and say, “I know.”

I know.

Beth asked, what frightened me the most?

Fear of exposing my soul, because that’s what it is, my soul coming out, naked for all the world to see. I’d almost rather walk around naked.

Also, the fear of rejection. Yes, what if they don’t like it? Well some people won’t, but Beth said succinctly, and I know this too, I’m not doing it for them, I’m doing it for me. Only for me, and for fulfilling my life’s purpose.

And you know what? It feels good when I do. When I draw, when I play guitar, when I write creatively.

It feels good. It feels right.

Emotional Authenticity

Emotional Authenticity...

What the heck does that mean? According to my fingerprints, I am in both the “schools” of Love and Wisdom.

Being in the school of love (seven or more loop prints—I have eight), I am here to learn to love myself and others. To stay present with myself and my emotions and convey my feelings, in other words, don’t hold back.

And I do hold back. I keep it all tucked in tight. I think I’m better now with age, but I still don’t want to face certain scenarios. Avoidance is so much easier, sigh. And though, I do face up to my responsibilities, I tend to wait to the last minute (procrastination—a school of wisdom thing).

So, emotional authenticity means being true to oneself; saying “yes” to oneself; exposing oneself by saying what you feel?

Loving oneself and others… I feel love for others all the time. Especially animals and plants (they don’t often talk back). Oh, I love my kids and family, my friends (close ones of which are few), but I do tend to keep to myself. A hermit in magician’s clothes.

Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat.

Which leads to the school of Wisdom (two or more tented arched fingerprints). Utilize what you know. Quit being an observer, (I’m so good at that, I love being an observer) and tell others because you do KNOW so much.

It’s all about learning, and that’s what I love to do… learn, But the school of wisdom says, I need to let the knowledge out. Speak up. Voice a knowledgeable opinion. There’s so much stuff I do know about, and sometimes, I’m amazed at myself… but at the same time, so little I know. I humble down.

The school of wisdom is not about acquiring wisdom, it’s about releasing it.
I’m a Virgo, and a healer (typical Virgo) with many vertical lines beneath my pinky finger. A healer to healers.

I don’t know much about how a car functions, that’s what I pay the nice man for, but I do know how people function.

I’m very interested in what’s ailing you. I want to fix it. I KNOW I can.
So the school of Wisdom places me in the lion’s den of knowing, but not voicing.
Talk to me.

It’s time for me to voice.

I Killed the Cake

Yesterday was my son, Max’s 20th birthday.

He wanted a "killer cake," so I agreed to the deed.

Boy, did I ever kill the cake. But it still tasted good. And, he didn’t seem to mind too much.

Well, any cake pans I had disappeared long ago.. so I geared up and bought two new, beautiful non-stick ones (instead of the flimsy, throw-away aluminum ones).

I found and cleaned up the old hand-mixer (Wow, it still worked!) and actually found two mixer-beater-thingies that matched.

But, I realized as I started the process, I forgot to buy the chocolate pudding mix to throw in the batter.

“That’s okay,” Max smiled smugly, “just add extra stick of butter. That’s what Hunni would have done.”

So I did.

It smelled wonderful, but the concoction rose only about a quarter inch. “Oh well, so it’ll look funny, it’ll be all right,” I thought.

I took the pans out of the oven and let the beasties cool.

When it came time to do the building, Max standing ready to assist, flipped one pan over neatly on a plate; the cake dropped right out.

With my pan, I cleanly lifted the flattened cake out with my fingers. It was firm and flat. I made a flipping gesture with it at Max.

Chocolate cakes do not for good Frisbees make.

The cake, just a little too heavy for such a maneuver, broke into pieces and hit the floor.

The clean-up crew was there in a flash, but I held them back and quickly picked up the chunks to salvage what I could.

Of course, both Roxzi and Max EWWWWed and shouted, they weren’t gonna eat that!

Don’t blame ‘em, really.

I let the dogs vacuum up the rest.

Max quickly frosted the remaining disc and decorated it with the traditional chopped up Peanut Butter M&Ms. He was just a little anxious.

Then, to top things off, the fact that between daughter Roxzi and I, we could not for the life of us find a single birthday candle.. or anything of a waxy nature to suffice.

Good ole Max (my genius son) came through with a... wooden match.

Needless to say, we sang very quickly.

Yes, my mother was the cake maker of the family (along with being the story keeper, and since her passing, I’ve feebly attempted to follow her lead, but my passion for cooking is not as great as hers. I always have to look up a poem I wrote shortly after her crossing, To Kill a Cake, to try to remember how to make her famous delicacy, what she dubbed, “Killer Cake.”

The poem pretty much tells the tale… (thank goodness I like to write, or there’d be nothing!)

To Kill a Cake
Quizmo LaGrande

My dear mother, Hunni, passed away
To other realms, in heaven’s stay.
And with the Love, she took her best
Cake recipe; would you have guessed?

The grandchildren loved to assist
Her mix and stir, they knew the list.
"Secret" ingredients to make a treat
The likes of which all cared to eat.

Thus “Killer Cake” came of fame,
"To die for!" was my Mother’s claim.
Every birthday, fall or spring,
For “Killer Cake” the kids would sing.

Alas, dear Hunni’s gone away,
And with her, “Killer Cake,” I say.
No one could match the way she’d make
That luscious mound, for heaven’s sake!

Of oldest daughter, I did inquire,
For her birthday, what she’d desire?
She looked at me with saddened eyes,
“Killer Cake,” her small reply.

I shook my head, “Uh-uh, not I!
“I can bake a cookie, or a pie
“But cakes were Hunni’s, understand?
"Your wish is not of my command.”

She thought a moment, then she said,
“You can do it!” and bobbed her head.
“Yes, we will help, make no mistake,
"We know how she would make the cake!”

I bought the strange ingredients
And took them home obedient.
“She never followed the directions!”
The kids regaled in recollection.

“An extra egg? A tub of… THAT?”
“Yep! Taste to see it’s thick and fat,”
Turn the oven to five hundred!”
How will this ever work? I wondered.

“Don’t set the timer, just won’t do,
We wait until the thing smells through.
“Mix the frosting while we wait,
with pudding, cream cheese, ain’t it great!”

I figured burning cake and house
Would bring cute firemen to douse
The flames of home and cooking passion
And dreams of birthdays, Hunni fashion.

But soon a smell came wafting through
A chocolate glow, so rich and true;
“The knife will never come out clean!"
A secret to her cake cuisine.

“It’s time, it’s done!” the children yell.
I shook my head, “How can you tell?”
“It’s her way,” they dance and croon
“Believe us! Can we lick the spoon?”

In all, approval took a stand,
“You did it, Mom! It turned out grand!
"We thought you’d kill it, make it dead…
"A treat To die for! you baked instead!”

The moral: cooperation bakes the cake,
With death there's no reason to forsake
Matriarchal cooking passion,
And dreams of birthdays, Hunni fashion.

© Copyright 2002 Quizmo LaGrande. All rights reserved.

Happy Birthday, Max!

~ * ~

Contemplation

Contemplating one’s navel is what first comes to mind.

Contemplating one’s goals and future achievements is another.

Lately, I’ve been contemplating the lines in my palms.

Yes, that’s right, the lines in my palms and my fingerprints. Fascinating stuff, really.

Did you know that your fingerprints are formed when you are a mere 14-weeks in the fetal stage, and that they NEVER change for your whole entire lifetime? Quite true.

The lines in your palms, on the other hand (is there a pun there?), can, will, and do change. For instance, a very good girlfriend of mine thirty years ago, a brilliant artist, had a very prominent Apollo star under her ring finger (known as the Apollo finger) on her right hand. Now, always being interested in all forms of metaphysics, astrology, tarot, etc., I knew that this asterisk formation mean successful artist, or success in the arts. Considering myself an artist at the time (and I still do), I certainly checked my hands for such an esteemed gift; alas, there was none.

But now, probably appearing in the last few years (without my noticing), is a huge Apollo star on my left hand, the family hand (as I am right handed). The right (or dominant) hand is the business hand.

According to this “gift” marking, I need to be a “star in the spotlight.” Scary. Very, very scary for me.

My other gift markers are “healer” (a series of four or more vertical lines directly under the pinky) and “lines of genius” (three or more vertical lines on the upper section of the pinky), Moon stars—intuition (asterisks on the Lunar mound, the fleshy part on the side of the hand under the pinky), and Neptune stars on the bottom center of the palm, near the wrist (I don’t know much about yet, but I’ll find out more later today).

Our hands, the lines, the mounds, the prints the color and shape, are all a roadmap of our lives. It maps where we need to go; what we are destined to do. It’s quite remarkable.

This is NOT what many think of as traditional palmistry. It’s not predictive… “You will have umpteen children and die at the age of 92.“ Nope, it’s not like that at all. But the methods of “hand analysis” are scientifically proven. Your fingerprints tell the basics for your life, the lines give the details of what’s happening now.

My teacher is Beth Davis. I saw speak at the first Bridging Heart and Marketing Conference last February. I was obviously impressed. You can visit her website through my affiliate link, Beth Davis the Hand Analyst. There are some terrific articles and interviews.

Richard Unger, http://www.lifeprints.com/, is also very impressive. Lots of good info about reading your fingerprints.

I’ll try to keep you abreast of my learning as I go along.

I’ve studied palmistry before, and now I find that I have to do quite a bit of unlearning. For instance, the “life” line, is not an indicator of how long your life will be, the length, in this case, is insignificant. It shows how well you live your life.

So, till next time, I’ll just sit here contemplating my fingertips and try to figure out what makes them flow, and lingering over the lines while lusting to figure out what makes me go!

If your happy and you know it, clap your hands...

Cheers!

Inspiration

Where does it come from? Where does it go?

I had an inspiration this morning.

Early this morning.

An inspiration to write about the wonder of me. I didn’t get out of bed and do it, and now wish I did because that wonderment, that moment of being “in spirit” has gone.

I will admit, I’m still me, I’m just curious what splendid thing I was thinking about at the time was so great?

Perhaps this new moment of “in spirit” inspiration is even better.

I went to a conference this past weekend (Friday, Saturday and Sunday) called Bridging Heart and Marketing hosted by my friends and favorites, Judith and Jim.

Drs. Judith and Jim are relationship experts that have broadened their scope from personal one-on-one relationships, dating, marital and alike, to marketing the magnificence of oneself, which they call “Soft Sell Marketing.”

It was a marvelous event! The venue, the Ayres Hotel in Manhattan Beach, CA, was superb—quaint in a large-enough way to support the 100-plus guests and attendees. It’s right off the 405 freeway, so very easy to get to, and from.

I regret, in a way, that I missed Saturday. But I really wanted to see my brilliant, lovely daughter and her handsome, equally brilliant, new husband before they launched themselves into a new adventure and a new life in a new land, Tacoma, Washington Land, Fort Lewis Land. They are excited, and so ready to venture forth. I admire them to the utmost! (Another post.)

I loved every moment of the conference (when I was able to be there). So many beautiful, high-minded people! Each one unique and entertaining in themselves. All entrepreneurs venturing out into giving the world what they “love” to do, and what they know best.

Thank you so much, Judith and Jim for such a great get-together! You are truly inspirational.

You can check them out at Judith&Jim.com.

Inspiration comes in so many forms, from so many places. It's our job to recognize it and follow through with action.

Now, what was it I wanted to write about this morning?

Oh well. Next time.

Peace.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Last night I was going through an old day-planner of mine looking for a list on “How to Be a Successful Dreamer,” that I remember jotting down in a doctor’s office from the October, 1987 edition of Life magazine.

Well I found the list all right, and I found short, medium and long term goals lists I had written for myself back in the day… WOW! Almost everything was check off! I have my dream house, banjos, piano.. I even baked the fruit cakes! I just have to get all the traveling done.

"Learn to sew" was one of them… I don’t have a clue what I was thinking with that one? Oh well.

I believe the article was called, “Avoid the Vanilla Syndrome.” And here’s the list I copied down…

“How to be a Successful Dreamer”

1. Avoid the vanilla syndrome. (Try something new, explore, live a little, live a LOT!)
2. Start young. (Do what comes naturally.)
3. Choose your parents. (This one’s a little tough.. I think I did a pretty good job with this one, my parents were wonderful. I have a note next to this one saying, "let your children be free.")
4. READ. (No problem.)
5. Have an awkward adolescence. (Gee that one took me to age 40.)
6. Be male. (Be aggressive, in a positive way, of course.)
7. Choose a nurturing spouse. (Well.. I’m working on it.)
8. Live in a place you love. (I think this is VERY important!)
9. Know what makes you happy. (Oh yeah, baby!)
10. Don’t give up. (We really don’t have much choice.)
11. Don’t grow up. (Big thumbs up on that one too!)

I also found a few rough drafts of some stories I wrote about the kids when they were little. I have to get them spiffed up and posted. The kids (the youngest 17) loved reading them. It was fun to find!

I can honestly say, I am very content with my life, and there’s very little I need or want. Travel and write, write and travel.

A couple years ago, a gentleman friend asked me on our second date, do I always get what I want? I had to think about it a moment, and honestly replied, yes, I mostly do, sometimes it just takes a while. He said he did too. And for both of us, we didn’t mean it in a greedy way, but in a very good way.

Several months later I saw The Secret and BING. I all ready knew it. The lights went on! That’s what my friend was talking about.. manifesting! He already had it pegged, but just had a different language for it.

The Secret talked about many techniques and principles I already knew and practiced and believed from forever, but never really talked to anyone about because they’d think I was nuts or they would just plain not listen.

Now, well, I’m still nuts. And sometimes people listen (because it’s more acceptable now), but many still won’t hear. All in good time, my pretties, all in good time.

So I’ll work on a new long-term list.. wow, ten years from now just think of what a wonderful life I’ll have!

Dream big, people! And know well.