Happy Father's Day

I wanted to take a moment to wish all of the fathers out there a Happy Father's Day. 
Today is the 2nd Father's Day I've had without my dad and I will admit to feeling a little sad today. But I got to thinking about my dad and all the wonderful things I got from him. So, instead of crying and being sad, I'm going tell you why he was such an amazing dad.

First of all, he was a hero. Not just a hero like every little girl thinks of her daddy, but mine was an honest to goodness hero. He served in Vietnam, came home and became a firefighter, lived with PTSD for 20 years, and loved me unconditionally.

He gave me a love of music. Not just the twangy country music he loved, but the oldies as well. I can remember singing along with him in the car wherever we went. It's a habit I just can't shake. I still sing along with the songs on the radio when I'm driving.

He gave me my heart. He showed by example what it meant to be a good human being. He never judged a person by the clothes they wore, or their handicaps. He was kind to everyone and that matters.

He gave me my weird sense of humor. Dad was silly, goofy, and funny. It didn't matter where or with whom. He was constantly trying to crack people up and he was never ashamed of making a fool of himself. Whether it was teasing me mercilessly until I laughed or dressing up in my Christmas clothes and chilling on the couch (yes, I have pictures :)), he brought joy.

He gave me a sense of self. He allowed me to claim my oddness, my faith, and my beliefs with no judgment. He let his little girl find out who she was through trial and error. He never interfered. He simply let me be.

He showed me how to push through the pain. With his PTSD, he was constantly in pain (mentally), but he still laughed. 

He believed I deserved to dance amongst the stars. If he could have brought the heavens down for me, I think he would have.

Sometimes, we are in the presence of angels and don't even realize it. Trust me when I say I knew all along. 
So, I ask  you to hug your dad a little tighter today and hold on a little longer than you need to. He gave you some of the wonderful components that make you you. 

Happy Father's Day!!

Music Calms My Soul

If you have been following my blog postings for any period of time, you know music is a HUGE part of my life. It really doesn't matter what type of music it is. I've been doing an interactive type thing on my Facebook page talking about the music of my life.  

I grew up with a music loving dad. There was always music playing and often Dad would be singing to it. Some days, he's pull out his guitar and strum a few chords. He was no Randy Rhoads or George Strait, but I will never forget his face as he played. It was one of the only times when I could see his soul was at peace.
I learned to sing simply by listening to Dad. He'd put Tanya Tucker in the 8-track (yes, 8-track) and I'd sing along. At my grandma's house, I would listen to Anne Murray and Nat King Cole. I learned to love all types of music very early on.

I'm not saying I'm  Grammy material, but I don't sound like a cat in heat either :) I've sang in choirs. I've sang duets with my best friend. I'd get sick about 20 minutes before we'd perform, but I'd still sing. Now, I sing as I wash dishes or drive back and forth to school. Yes, I'm the crazy woman who is tapping her hands on the steering wheel and singing along with the radio :)

My music collection is filled with all sorts of unexpected twists. I have Celtic Thunder, Celtic Woman, Alice Cooper, and Rob Zombie all on the same playlist. I could blame my characters who dictate what I am listening to most of the time, but I had this music long before I began writing. Pink mingles with Reba. Toby Keith dances with Frank Sinatra. I'm a woman of many tastes.

Each book has it's own soundtrack. Right now, I'm working on 4 different stories. Book 4 in the Cedar River series is my Southern rock obsession. Witch Lake: Book 1 is Sinatra, Botti, and Buble. The erotic romances needing my attention are Nickelback on Pandora radio. My mermaid series doesn't have a playlist yet, but I think she is going to take a weird alternative turn. Either that or folk.

So, tell me: Does music play a huge role in your life? Or is it simply there?

Be Still

For the last few days, I've felt like I was on the verge of a breakdown. My characters quit talking to me!!! I was certain that I'm finished as an author. Sure that I would never write another word again. 
Last night, I actually put my fears to words. Tears filled my eyes because I LOVE what I do! My heart beats for the worlds I have created. I put my earbuds in and simply listened...okay, I may have danced a little bit, too, but I allowed myself to be free.
This morning, I walked the dogs and took a look around at the world around me. The vivid colors seemed to beckon for their pictures to be taken. I put the dogs back inside, carried a bottle of water, my camera, and my homemade bug repellent outside, then parked my butt on the picnic table. I took the time to be still.

Want to know what I noticed? The breeze was blowing through the trees and the sun-warmed cedars scented the air. I heard the birds playing in the leaves. For an hour, I sat there and watched a butterfly fluttered from dandelion to dandelion. I listened to the coyote pups yip in their den behind our house. Dragonfly babies landed on the picnic table beside me. I was simply still.

Deep down inside, I'm still that farmer's daughter. I love the smell of the earth and fresh cut grass. I love going barefoot. The grass tickles my toes and I feel like a kid again. I love the sounds of the earth as it comes to life.

In between the vehicles passing my house, I could hear the water across the street. There is something about the water that manages to soothe me. My muse showed up and do you know what the lovely Sebastian told me? "Get out of your own way, babe!" I laughed because I know it's true. If I can just step aside and stop trying to control everything with such a tight rein, the voices speak to me. Maybe it's fear of spinning out of control, but I have a hard time letting go. 

Today's lesson is over. I'm learning to let go and be still. I can't control the ebb and flow of the lake anymore than I can stop time.

Happy Memorial Day!

As most of you know, I am the daughter of a Vietnam veteran. The image above holds a special place in my photo album simply because of that. I've never been to the wall, but I intend to go at some point.
When I was growing up, Memorial Day was always about the parade in our small town, visiting my relatives' graves, and cooking out at home. My dad was never big on celebrating the true reason for Memorial Day...and I now know why. 
However, we are coming up on the anniversary of my loss and I sit here looking at this picture thinking, "But for the grace of the gods..." 
See, if my dad's name would have been on that wall, I wouldn't have been born. He often would talk about his time in Vietnam and how he wished he had stayed, fought, and died for his country, then the PTSD wouldn't have destroyed his life the way that it did. It used to make me cry because if he had done those things, I wouldn't be here and I sure as hell wouldn't be the woman I am today for walking on his journey with him.
He was an amazing man and he was my hero (though I can hear him telling me, "Girl, I ain't nobody's hero"). He sacrificed his mind, body, and soul for this country. He may have come home physically whole, but mentally, he would never be the man he was if he hadn't seen and done the things he did. 

So, today please remember that All Gave Some and Some Gave All. We are free because of the men and women who have put their lives on the line. We are able to BBQ and spend time with our families because these people have given up time with theirs.

Learning to Live

Most of you who have been with me for a while know that I'm coming up on a pretty big anniversary. It's been a year since I lost one of the most important people in my life...my dad. That one event threw my world off its axis and I've spent the better part of a year trying to get it back on track.

So here I sit, almost an entire year older and I hope a little wiser. I've been through a lot in the last year, but what I have discovered is that I need to learn how to live. For the most part, I've been simply going through the motions, but I haven't really been living life.
I had a professor this year who told me I need to loosen up, let my hair down, and just have some fun. I sat across from this man who I consider a brilliant man and was dumbfounded. 

He told me I wasn't having fun with my writing. I thought I was having a ball with my writing. I mean, writing is a serious business, right? The good doctor looked at me with a smile on his face and said, "Writing is a very serious business, but if you aren't having any fun, then why the hell are you doing it?" This from the Absent-minded professor? (The brilliant man could never remember where we were when it came to writing assignments.) I walked away from this meeting in a different frame of mind...one that really had me thinking.

I put aside what I was working on and put all of my efforts into something new and different. I focused on my blog for school (http://iambeautifulat.blogspot.com) and my algebra homework. I picked up a book I've been wanting to read and delved beneath the pages. I found myself smiling more and laughing with friends. I simply stopped trying to live and actually lived.

School came to an end. I finished my exams and I'm not worried about my grades. Why? Because once I stopped worrying about things, it all began to work. I'm simply letting go.

Yesterday, I got up, popped Nickelback on my MP3 player, tied on my tennis shoes, and went for a walk. I have been having some issues lately and I needed to work them out in my head. A lot of my issues deal with the negative voices in my head. Somebody told me it's a record that I need to stop listening to. So, on my walk, I took the record and smashed the hell out of it. There is no way that record can be put back together.

Somewhere along the way this year, I lost sight of me. I stopped believing in myself and thus, lost my passion. I deserve passion! I owe it to myself and I will damn well have it!

So this is me...I'm letting my hair down, giving a huge rebel yell, and I'm barefooting it for awhile. I'm almost 41. I'm not dead. I'm alive and kicking. This is my year of learning to live!

A Few Things I'm Learning As I Go

So, I'm a college student. Most of you are aware of that. What you don't know is that I started this journey with one goal in mind: get a degree. That was all I wanted. I wasn't going to school to make friends. I wasn't going to engage if I didn't have to. I wanted to earn a degree and walk back into the world smarter. That's it. I'd mind my own business and live my life and everyone else could just leave me alone.
Last semester, I got kicked off that track of thinking. I met a young man who refused to allow me to live in my shell. He asked me questions and stopped to chat with me on campus. He engaged me and made it his mission to make sure I engaged other people. He changed my life though he will never understand that.
I walked onto campus as one of the older students. I figured the kids are going to look at me as the "old woman" on campus. I never expected for them to like me. I didn't care whether they did or not, but they did. I had a couple of people last year tell me, "You know, you're pretty cool, right?" Me? The bookworm? Seriously? You all need to read up on what being cool is! *G*

This semester a different woman walked onto campus. I walked in a little more confident and a whole lot friendlier. The other day, I laughed all the way home. Want to know why? I had been stopped by 4 different people to chat in the hallways. ME! Then, I walked across our tiny campus with another student, chatting about our previous class. When I realized what had happened, it made me laugh out loud. The woman who walked from class to class with her head down, not being engaged with anyone, has friends on campus and not one of them is my own age.
Here are a few things I'm learning:
1) Age is simply a number
2) You are truly only as old as you feel
3) This new generation has a lot to learn, but they also have a lot to offer.
4) Many of these young people refuse to be silent. They stand up for their convictions (and that is AWESOME!)
5) Youth is pretty blind to age.
6) I actually have something to say that they want to hear.
So, I guess an old dog can learn some new tricks, if only they open themselves up to the opportunity. And it all started with the least likely person.

My quote for this week: "Shoot for the moon! Even if you miss, you'll land amongst the stars."

What is Beauty?

I've got a blog up for school titled "I Am Beautiful At..." I wanted to take a look at what people think beauty is.

I also want to bring about awareness that women of all shapes, sizes, ages, races, and religions are beautiful. As women, I think we spend more time judging ourselves and others instead of looking for ways to empower one another and raise each other up.

I'm not a reality television watcher. Duck Dynasty is the extent of my reality TV watching, but my husband loves reality TV, especially Survivor. That show grates on my very last nerve. It's one of those things that irritates the living hell out of me. Why should we only show cute little twenty somethings on a beach on some tropical island? Why not take the show to a cold climate where they have to wear winter coats? I'm thinking Alaska. Hey, they did Africa, didn't they? Let's see how Survivors do when they are cold and hungry. There is nothing about these women I see as attractive. Most of them are cold-hearted, nasty women who will hit on men to get their way.

I see this with all of the tabloid "princesses", too. Yet, as women, we look at these women and say, "I want to look like, dress like, act like...". Why? Why aren't we happy with who we are? Is it because media won't allow it? Or is it because as women we are trained to always want to be a size or two less than what we are?
  




It's been a long time ago, but I watched a lady on some show talking about aging. She spoke about how plastic surgery isn't an option and neither is coloring her hair. She talked about what wrinkles, laugh lines, and crow's feet meant to her. I took a long hard look in my mirror.

I am almost 41 years old. I am plus-sized and healthy. My blood pressure is normal as is everything else. I have a few wrinkles and laugh lines, but that means I've worried about people in my life and I've laughed a lot. I have gray hairs, but I have earned each and every one of them. I seldom wear make-up or curl my hair. My husband has seen me at my best and my worst and he still finds me attractive. I am bold, brassy, confident, sarcastic, and trusting. I'm sexy and beautiful at 41 because I am me!

What is beauty, in your opinion? Is it all about looks or is it about the beauty within that comes shining through? Talk to me, people!