By Land or By Sea

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

I’ve always lived a little off grid.  Not in the solar sense (though I would like to try that), but just not in your typical dwelling.

My first home (away from parents) was a duplex in which I found my elderly neighbor hiding in a closet that had a connector door to both of the units.  My second place was a tiny studio behind the main house of a talented harpist.  She played with her French doors open and I got to listen to fabulous free concerts from my patio.

Later I lived in a paper warehouse overlooking The Mississippi River.  Presently I live on a donkey farm out in the middle of nowhere.  Not sure why I’ve always been attracted to strange spaces, but square rooms and traditional floor plans just don’t work well for me.

I dream of living in a church, or a yurt—in a dome, or a firehouse.  My latest dream is a floating home, or maybe even a houseboat (with the square walls removed, of course).

But while I’m yearning for water, I remain ferociously tied to land.  I just can’t fathom a life without farm animals or gardening.  I’ve figured out lots of ways to garden on a houseboat, but I’m not sure the donkeys would like the heat of the upper deck!

Why is this particular affliction (by land or by sea) just now rearing its ugly head, I ask?  But the pull of the water has become very strong.  For now I’m kayaking while thinking about what either choice entails.  We live very close to one of the most beautiful lakes I’ve ever seen (Center Hill Lake), and I’m checking out what it would be like to live on the water there.

Maybe the land, with all its built-in chores and obligations, has finally worn me down.  But I have no illusions that life would be maintenance-free on the water.  Simpler, perhaps.  Maybe I’m just ready for a completely new adventure.  Or maybe I’m fascinated by something so foreign to my land-loving nature?  The jury's still out, but I find myself daydreaming about water.

Any of my readers out there ever lived on a boat, or even thought about it?  I’d love to hear how you feel about that notion…

Marianne M. Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com

Miss Manners and Puking

I was raised in a Southern household obsessed with good manners.  In case you’re a Yankee, or a southerner who missed the social graces, I will elaborate.  I’m not just talking about please and thank you and yes ma’am, but the larger sense of truly being gracious.  Those who know me well know I often fall short in this department, but I do try.  And I would be haunted by my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother if I didn’t.

Southern Belles are trained to always be aware of how others might be feeling at all times.  And, of course, to make them feel better if they’re not feeling just peachy.  Being indifferent or passive when others are in need is not tolerated.

Wednesday I was in Wal-Mart and the lady behind me in line suddenly turned green and made some kind of hand signal to her small daughter.  The daughter scrambled behind the cashier’s stand and grabbed the trash can and drug it over to her mother, who then puked in it.  None of my home training had prepared me for this.  Additionally, I suffer from some strange condition that makes me puke when other people puke.  Suddenly fighting my own stomach battle, I wondered what to do.

God love the Wal-Mart cashier who didn’t miss a beat in her conversation with another shopper in line.  She simply unrolled some paper towels and put them in the hand of the puking woman, who is now on her knees and heading into round two.  The puking woman, no doubt a Southern Belle, raised her head briefly to say thank you to the cashier before resuming her love affair with the trash can.

I’m observing all this and wondering how I can help.  I’m also thinking I need to get the heck out of here, before I get sick.  I worry that the puking woman will be offended if I move away from her.  I’m worried she’ll be offended if I stare.  To make matters worse, there is a hellacious lightning storm going on and the Wal-Mart exit is blocked by droves of sensible people who don’t want to risk their lives to get to their respective cars.

In my panic I begin to intensely study the nearby ice bin.  Still, I can hear the woman retching.  I try to focus on the rain and the lightning.  I shut my eyes and grip my shopping cart so hard that my knuckles turn white.  Thankfully, another well-raised southern woman pulls her cart up next to mine and strikes up a conversation.  Manners dictate that I must listen and I can divert my attention away from the puking marathon.

Days later, I still question my lack of response to puking woman and wonder if I am truly a heathen.  But I just don’t remember Miss Manners ever addressing this subject.  If I suffer further such assaults on my sense of graciousness, I may have to start grocery shopping online.  (And if the puking woman was you and you’re reading this:  Please know I’m sorry you were so sick, and bless your little heart!)

Any Idea what you would do in a similar situation?  I’d love to hear your comments.

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com/
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com

 

Invasion of the Slime Mold: Resistance is Futile

For some reason, this week has had lots of rough edges.  When I experience a week like this I usually find solace in my garden.  But this time my garden echoed the disjointedness I’ve been feeling.  Slime mold has invaded.

In case you’ve been spared first-hand knowledge, a slime mold is a blob that suddenly appears in a mulched flower bed.  It is not a fungus but is officially classified as a Protista.   (Yeah, me neither J.)  To me, it is simply not classifiable.

It is a strange morphing organism that shape-shifts at will and is impossible to get rid of.  Fortunately it does no damage, except, of course, to your sense of aesthetics.

Beginning as a yellow blob that makes you think the dog threw up in your garden, it then turns orange and later spews some kind of black powder.  The powder is full of reproducing spores, so the cycle continues.

It’s interesting to me that slime begets more slime.  An immediate reference comes to mind about the company one keeps, but this whole episode has me contemplating something much more subtle and sinister than that.  I’m wondering what kind of forces are aimlessly morphing in front of me, and while doing me no direct harm, are keeping me from getting where I need to go.

And while I believe in being positive and staying optimistic, sometimes life just seems to throw roadblocks.    There are times to quit citing Pollyanna clichés and just observe the slime morphing.  Because, at least in the case of slime mold, resistance is futile.  That’s how I’m feeling this week, anyway.

I’m trying to see if I can appreciate my garden going down a path I would rather it not take, but that’s not really working for me.  So I’m just in a slime state of mind.

How do you deal with the slime mold in your life?  I’d love to hear your comments.

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com

How to Get More Done In the Pool

My new mantra has three R’s:

Recharge.
Rejuvenate.
Reinvent.

After years of chronically working my to-do list in a frenzied state, I have discovered the benefits of stepping away.  Today, for example, I am floating in the pool during my “lunch hour.”  And I'm getting so many things done that it’s not funny.

 I’m writing my next blog post, and I’ve fully outlined an article I’m working on.  I’m giving my puppies some “alone time” so they won’t develop separation anxiety.  I’ve cleaned the pool (much more fun while in it than doing it from the outside later on in the heat).  I’ve gotten some exercise swimming laps.  I’ve taken a floating power nap after swimming.  I’ve achieved an unhealthy glowJ.  And best of all, I’m not sitting—as sitting kills.

I’ve finally realized that nose to the grindstone just wears out the nose.  I’m learning to work smarter, not harder or longer.  And if you’re not a swimmer (and I’m certainly no Michael Phelps, but some easy strokes work for me), go for a walk.  Play fetch with your dog.  Go shopping on your lunch hour.  Play a few holes of Frisbee golf.  Just find something that makes you feel clear, light, and happy.  With apologies to Coca-Cola, it’s the pause that refreshes.

And if you’re thinking you’re too busy to take a break, then I’m really gonna challenge you to take one.  Because when you get overwhelmed and frustrated, your brain stagnates.  You begin to tense and worry.  These are not conducive states to getting things done or generating great ideas.

So c’mon people, F5!  (Refresh!  Refresh!  Refresh!)  Get up, get away, and go new places with your work and your life!  And I’d love to hear about what works for you, if you’re inclined to share your experience.  Please feel free to leave a comment.  And if I don't reply right away--no worries!  I'm probably in the pool working.

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com/
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com