Writer At The Ranch

Pondering Self-Sufficiency

2012-02-24T14:39:00.003-08:00

http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm54/energymash/Self-Sufficiency.jpg

What if you could grow your own food, build your own house, and live largely off-grid? That’s a notion that seems to be taking over my mind these days. Some of it may be driven by the recession, but I think there are larger concerns at play.

I’d love to eat fresh, untainted food year-round. And I’ve found lots of satisfaction in assisting with building projects. Living off-grid would mean keeping more money in my pocket for the areas that I can’t manage sustainably (toilet paper, internet access, and doctor bills come to mind). Of course, good old-fashioned barter is also an honorable path to obtain goods and services you can’t produce yourself. And there's always the concept of a co-operative.

The big question, I guess, is exactly why would I want to take on more projects and work than I already have? It would be a lot easier to go out to eat, live in a dwelling with square rooms built by someone else, and just flip the light switch on.

Photo by Marianne McTighe Smith

The last few years, my husband and I have grown some of our own food, and we’ve found it very rewarding. Between the gardening supplies and water bills, I can’t honestly say that it’s cheaper; but it’s fresher, healthier, and insanely gratifying. I marveled at the loofah I grew last summer, and I enjoy cooking with herbs and veggies picked right outside our door. Composting has surprised me by becoming a contemplative practice.

http://i419.photobucket.com/albums/pp272/jonboy_01/jersey.jpg

We’re considering adding laying chickens, milk cows, and more goats to our small farm. But I haven’t quite been able to fully commit. Some days the lure of nearby Center Hill Lake and the need for a serious vacation dominate my thoughts. Milking twice daily and gathering eggs/caring for more critters is not always appealing. Yet I can’t quite picture myself on the lake without a garden or farm animals, either. In a perfect world, I’d find us a farm on the water. But I digress.

Many farmers are turning towards solar power to run their animal operations. It just makes sense. And designing your own dwelling to suit your unique needs and becoming more self-sufficient in the process? Well, that’s something I can get excited about.

http://i590.photobucket.com/albums/ss341/one800_collect/DSC00345.jpg

Have you ever considered what self-sufficiency would look like? You don’t have to go whole hog; baby steps can definitely be meaningful. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject.

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

Disillusionment: Five Ways to Beat It

2012-02-17T16:50:00.007-08:00

My good friend lost her dream job, her boyfriend, and had a near-death experience all in the course of one month. And her bad luck is still continuing; she’s like the poster child for Job. Being a glass half-full type, she has coped amazingly well. Still, the losses are soul-numbing and I find myself thinking a lot about how to successfully deal with disillusionment.

I gave her great advice on how to beat it:

1. Drink more.

2. Take drugs.

3. Kill someone.

4. Crawl in bed and don’t come out.

5. Lose your faith so you won’t keep wondering why God hates you.

photobucket.com/albums/i285/allixpeeke/?action=view&current=romanticdisillusionment.

Ok, I didn’t really say all that, but I really wanted to. When your dreams and your peeps and your health all take a nose-dive at once, I’d have to say that disillusionment is the only respectable response.

You might be having thoughts about karmic payback, but I’m telling ya, this is a sweet lady who does good things. I’ve had similar catastrophes in my own life, but never unrelenting and all at once. It kind of gives you pause.

My friend has taught me a few things about dealing with disillusionment. I did promise you five ways to beat it (that weren’t cheeky), so here goes:

1. Get angry and express it safely. If you missed my blog on how to consciously complain, you can read it here.

2. Retreat. Pull back and give yourself some alone time. Skip the shower, wear sweats, and put out the “Not welcome!” sign for a weekend, or even longer. Indulge yourself and shut the world out.

3. Oversleep. I mean, if life sucks, you might as well be unconscious as much as possible.

4. Accept what is happening to you as you are able. It is a process, not a contest.

5. Find a new passion/purpose if you can’t recover what you’ve lost. Repeat mantras as often as necessary: “It’ll all be ok in the end. If it not’s ok, it’s not the end.” “Don’t let the bastards get you down.” “Que sera, sera.” You get the picture. But you have to embrace the platitudes. If you don’t like these, feel free to speak your own.

http://media.photobucket.com/image/disappointment/mrstrentreznor

Disillusionment is, usually, temporary. We get mad, we retreat, we eventually accept what has happened, and we move on.

If you’ve come up with any creative ways of your own to shove aside disillusionment, please share them in the comments. We’ll all need them sooner or later. And thanks for reading, ya'll!

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

Truth in Advertising and Hairbrained Hunts

2012-02-10T19:17:00.000-08:00

http://media.photobucket.com/image/airstreamcartoon/cartoon/

The ad sounded so nice: “Older Airstream with partially gutted interior. Needs interior renovation and two new windows. Good tires and solid floor. Super cheap.”

Never mind that my husband had to chase down the ad placer for all he was worth. Seems the guy was on the road and would be back tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. He became our BFF, only it was like trying to pull information from a secret agent. We got lots of one-word answers to our questions and several grunts.

Lesser men would have been daunted, but not us. We must have something in our genes that makes us hairbrained hunters. You might have read my previous blog about picking, but if not, you can read it here. Our picking roots are strong, and we are constantly searching for the next great deal.

We’re obsessed DIY-ers, and we’re always at least two or three projects ahead of ourselves.

Said Airstream was to become my new office, allowing my present office to become a real guest room, and giving us the opportunity to remove the Queen Size bed from the middle of our living room/hallway. Perhaps then we would actually be able to open our front door! We had high hopes of salvaging our current state of existence after an overly aggressive downsizing.

I moved some work around, and we got up at the crack of dawn to see the sun rise over the old Airstream. We were both fighting bone-crushing fatigue and freezing temps, but off we went. Grumpy conversation followed as we hadn’t ingested enough caffeine yet. Forty miles of grump later, we arrived.

When I first saw the Airstream, I was beyond excited. My wildest hopes were being confirmed—it was a dream. I KNEW our persistence had paid off! It was absolutely stunning! I held my breath and smiled.

http://media.photobucket.com/image/airstream/piquiqts/Airstream.jpg

But, as fate would have it, that wasn’t the “for sale” Airstream. That was the “I’m keeping it” model. The “for sale” model was hidden behind the new and improved version.

Ok, it had been turned over. Or maybe run over. And yes, the aluminum had pulled away from the floor and you could see air inside between the rusted floor and the wildly painted walls. And did I mention that the interior was not only “gutted,” but that it looked like it had been bombed?

The two missing windows no longer had the plywood on them that was featured in the lovely ad photo, and rain water was standing in the floor. The remaining windows were not windows at all, but a cheap plexiglass substitute. I had to smirk at the “no smoking” sign taped on the crooked front door. Was anyone really worried about setting this gem on fire?

Hopes were dashed and we left laughing, planning to shop again another day.

What are YOU looking for? I’d love to hear about it. (Please leave a comment!) And if you have a second-hand Airstream that’s a gem, you know how to contact me J.

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

Top Ten Life-Changing Health Tips for Baby Boomers

2012-02-03T20:10:00.000-08:00

http://i639.photobucket.com/albums/uu117/EleaofGondawa/marcuswelby.jpg

I’m not a doctor; I only play one on TV. But seriously, I have been obsessed with the concept of a healthy lifestyle for as long as I can remember. I’m certainly no poster child. I often make unhealthy choices, and I teeter on the edge of stress-overload frequently.

But I’m doing better. And so can you.

I’m sharing my own top ten list of ways to make your life healthier, Boomers. If you’re already doing them all, kudos to you! If you learn a few things, that’s even better. And I hope you’ll also share your own health secrets with me. I’d love to hear them!

1. Cook everything you can in pure coconut oil to improve your memory. Here’s why! Thank you, Mary Ann Robinson, for bringing this tip to my attention!

2. Manage your stress by using both sides of your brain for a single task as often as you can. For example, I’m currently using a dance fitness DVD. I’m learning the steps with the left side of my brain, and doing the actual movement with the right side of my brain.

http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e355/ska_is_life/sarba.jpg

3. Eat fresh/limit preservatives. Buy locally; know where your food comes from. Even better, grow it yourself and eat it at its peak! And the gardening itself contributes to your health and flexibility.

4. Stay active physically and socially. Social media is good for you! But don’t give up in-person contact. Everyone needs a sense of community. If you live in the middle of nowhere like I do, this is especially important!

5. Take supplements, especially to support your weak spots. If you’re not sure what to take, spend some time with Andrew Weill, MD. Don’t dismiss supplements; they've made a world of difference in my own health and in the health of friends and family members.

6. Get regular check-ups, but use common sense about how often to have invasive tests and x-rays. If you don’t have a family history of XYZ, it may not be necessary to be constantly screened. Take responsibility for your own health. That includes finding a physician that you trust.

7. Pay special attention to your teeth. They are a good indicator of your overall health, and you really can’t do without them.

http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m237/hrhqueencat/Cakes/teethcake.jpg

8. Stay involved in something you feel passionate about. Finding your passion is one of the keys to longevity.

9. Be a caretaker for someone else. Make that daily phone call to check on an elderly friend. Volunteer occasionally at your local soup kitchen or food pantry. If you don’t like structure, practice “random acts of kindness.”

http://i1033.photobucket.com/albums/a417/seniorhl9/Seniors%20Helping%20Seniors

10. Connect spiritually, whatever that means to you.

Be well, my friends! And don’t forget to leave that comment about what’s working for you in your own pursuit of health and happiness. And, as always, thanks for reading!

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

Getting Skunked: Part Two

2012-01-27T19:34:00.000-08:00

http://i632.photobucket.com/albums/uu44/taranehshayda/animals/8-1.jpg

In case you missed Getting Skunked, Part One, you can read it here. That was more of a symbolic experience, but today's adventure was a bit different.

When I woke up this morning, one of the pups was barking like her butt was on fire and the whole house smelled like burnt rubber. I immediately opened all the windows and cranked up the ceiling fans, even though it was 35 degrees outside. No doubt about it, we’d been skunked! The smell seemed to be coming up through the floor vents, giving me the idea that the varmints were under our home.

My husband woke up twenty minutes later complaining that he was cold, and then asked what was burning. I was still running through the house trying to find “the source” of the skunk smell. After a few minutes, I determined that it had already burned into my brain, and where it came from really didn’t matter.

http://i139.photobucket.com/albums/q306/dport72/skunk.jpg

After almost gagging on my breakfast—skunk odor really keeps you from eating—I took a shower. God knows why, because all the laundry I had washed and folded and left in the baskets last night now smelled like Pepe Le Pew. I hoped for the best and excitedly left the house (who’d want to stay in there?) to go see a client who had hired me to do some collaborative writing and proofing.

No sooner had I settled in at my client’s office, when the odor popped back up. A concerned gentleman stuck his head in the office where I was working and asked if I smelled skunk. The client I was writing with responded by spraying the entire office with Febreeze, and then asked if I would like to spray my jacket. Needless to say, no one sat next to me at lunch!

The day finally ended and I headed home, having no idea that the skunk odor would still be so strong that it would bowl me over at the door. My husband has recently started working from home, and he said: “Really, you get used to it.” I firmly disagreed.

We headed out to feed farm animals and strategize about our skunk hunt. Two small holes were found around the AC/Heating unit (in the back) and around where the septic lines are routed (oddly, in the front). We plugged the hole in the back with chicken wire, hoping it will force the skunk(s) out the front. (We didn’t want them to spray the dogs, who love to run around in the back yard.)

http://i139.photobucket.com/albums/q306/dport72/skunk.jpg

My Facebook friends offered helpful advice (thank you Janice, Laurie, and Deb!) about getting rid of all things skunk, but so far nothing is making a substantial difference. Tomorrow we will stalk the skunks at sunset and wait for them to come out of the remaining hole (great weekend, eh?), and then we will close the gap. It’s quite a gamble, as we don’t know how many skunks there might be.

We considered an exterminator, but a friend’s bill for the same issue was $1,800.00! (Thanks, Crystal, for the warning...)

Guess we'll see if we can choke down some dinner while savoring skunk ambience. Maybe we'll stay in the far end of the house, where the smell isn’t quite as strong. May have to sleep in the guest room, too, as it smells slightly better than the master bedroom.

Or we could just go out searching for the only known predator of skunks-- the horned owl. My luck, I’d get a direct hit of skunk spray while I’m out owl-hunting. And the owls might eat my barn cats, who are busy eating barn mice.

p.s. My husband just came back in after doing some skunk sleuthing. He saw one enter the hole that we left open, and it’s an albino skunk! We’ve only seen one of those before, in the barn of a farm we decided not to buy J.

http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l28/bitter_coke/albinoskunk1.jpg

Have you ever been skunked? I’d love to hear about it. Please feel free to leave a comment.

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

Appreciating the Absurd

2012-01-20T11:30:00.000-08:00

http://i1032.photobucket.com/albums/a403/good_times_gazette /ElCaminoChickenIrvington.jpg

Lately things haven’t been making much sense, so I suppose it is in self-defense that I have begun truly appreciating the absurd.

Merriam-Webster defines absurd this way: “Ludicrous, ridiculous, meaningless.” And secondly, “Having no rational or orderly relationship to human life.” And I love the synonyms for it on thesaurus.com: “Bugged out, cracked, crazy.”

Embracing the wonderfully wacky seems to lessen the impact of things gone woefully wrong. At least, that is how it works for me.

Sometimes I even seek out the wacky for comic relief, though the seeking out is not usually necessary. In our current age, the wacky and absurd seem increasingly abundant.

Often when I see things that are totally absurd I find myself thinking, “Ummm….why?” But there is no why. “Why not?” might be a more appropriate question.

Why not have a giant chicken emerging from your El Camino?

Why not have Cadillacs sticking out of the dirt?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/10058483@N00/2390546144/

Why not put the world’s largest ear of corn above an otherwise ordinary structure?

http://media.photobucket.com/image/roadside%20attractions/hokuten_04/

Why not have your photo made next to King Kong?

http://media.photobucket.com/image/roadside%20attractions/lucas_ashley_whistler/

Why not wave at the Giant Cowboy?

http://media.photobucket.com/image/roadside%20attractions/labbieland/

Of course, roadside attractions are meant to be absurd. Then there are the gentle absurdities of everyday life: a decision made by a close friend or relative that boggles your mind, a ruling made by the company you work for that defies any known logic or reasoning, a recipe that turns out nothing like the description, though you followed all directions to the letter, an especially aggravating neurotic behavior that your dog seems to have acquired out of thin air. I could go on, but you get the picture...

It seems best just to shrug, smile, and appreciate that life is indeed strange. And sometimes the stranger it is, the less you have to explain!

I’d love to hear about the latest absurdities in your life. C’mon, it'll make me feel better! Please feel free to leave a comment.

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

Conscious Complaining for Positive Living

2012-01-13T10:59:00.000-08:00

http://media.photobucket.com/image/screaming/deficitlondon/

Think of this as Part Two of last week’s blog post on eliminating annoyances and having a better 2012. If you missed Part One, you can read it here.

Recently, I read a phenomenal book on achieving emotional balance: The Language of Emotions: What Your Feelings Are Trying To Tell You by Karla McLaren.

McLaren maintains that you can’t be positive without honoring the negative, which is an intriguing concept.

In fact, her feeling is that “a lack of permission to complain can cause unresolving, repetitive mood states like worry, depression, and apathy.” She says that ignoring the negative can drain our energy, if we’re not careful.

I’ve been immersing myself in positivism lately, but there are days when that seems trite and shallow because I really don’t feel that way. And now I have “permission” to complain? Gotta love that!

McLaren suggests trying out a technique she calls Conscious Complaining. Find a very private place where no one can hear you and close the door. She explains how it works: “When you’ve found your perfect complaining site, let yourself go, and give a voice to your dejected, hopeless, sarcastic, nasty, bratty self. Bring dark humor out of the shadows and really whine and swear about the frustrations, stupidities, impossibilities, and absurdities of your situation. Complain for as long as you like…and when you run out of things to say, thank whatever you’ve been whining or yelling at.”

After focusing for so long on being positive, I found the idea of Conscious Complaining to be a little confusing at first. But after giving it a go and ranting for awhile, I reached a state of contented peace, and then began to feel quite positive again.

http://media.photobucket.com/image/screaming/Mushroom_king_bucket/caption

When I initially tried this technique I have to admit that I felt quite foolish, but elation soon followed. Can’t tell you how marvelous it felt to get everything off my chest without the risk of hurting anyone!

I highly recommend that you give this technique your best shot, if it appeals to you. But be sure you are totally alone. (Nothing like ranting about your spouse or roommate while they are standing right outside the door listening in...) If that kind of privacy is hard to come by, you could try journaling your complaints and then tearing up the list. But I find that voicing them is much more freeing.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not fond of whiners. And generally I consider myself to be an insanely positive person. But by Consciously Complaining you can let go of unconscious complaining, which is the big offender.

http://media.photobucket.com/image/complaining/Icetto/

If you can let go of your complaints by consciously naming them and ranting about them, you are clearing the path for a more positive life experience.

I’d love to hear about your experience after you try this technique, be it good, bad, or ugly. Go ahead; find some privacy, close the door, and rant!

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

Kicking the Toaster: Getting Rid of Annoyances for a Better 2012

2012-01-06T09:49:00.000-08:00

http://media.photobucket.com/image/toaster/lemmiwinks_2006/toaster.jpg?o=28

It’s a brand new year, and I’m trying hard to think about things in a new way. Recently I read a blog post by a fellow writer (and for the life of me I can’t find it to credit him/her here) about getting rid of your ten most aggravating everyday annoyances. The idea was that if you could get the top energy drainers out of your life, you could be more focused and productive.

When I read that, I was staring at mounds of paperwork on my desk, and some too small toast. Our spiffy four slot toaster had recently bitten the dust, and I just hadn’t gotten around to replacing it. I thought I was doing well when I found a replacement toaster in my old “office stuff” box, and I promptly placed it on the kitchen counter and felt self-satisfied.

Toast is a sacred morning ritual for me. Problem was, the replacement toaster was a two slotter, and it also had really small slots. I had to buy smaller bread, and then toast one end at a time. This took longer, and also resulted in toast that was way too brown for my taste. The whole process was exceptionally aggravating to me. And generally, it all happened before coffee.

This experience provoked me to thoughtfully examine my top ten list of annoyances. I’m right in the middle of eliminating most of them. Some require money, but most just require a little creative thinking. That original blog post I read suggested you take some time and come up with every single everyday annoyance that you can think of and write them down, and then focus on your top ten. I didn’t think I had that many until I started my list.

http://media.photobucket.com/image/pens%20with%20no%20ink/shakersnitelife2/pens6.jpg?o=4

I have fixed my top two (kicked my toaster to the curb and convinced my husband to fix a stuck barn door that I struggled with every day), and I’m working on my third, which is that my pens never have any ink when I come up with a brilliant idea (frustrating dilemma for a writer). Thinking of taking notes on a tablet instead, or using pencils in the meantime. Have added a decent pencil sharpener to my store list.

Sitting here at my desk writing this while enjoying perfectly large and brown toast, I have to tell you that I think there is something to this. If your chief annoyances are a lack of money or extremely aggravating people in your life, getting them off your list may be a little harder. (And no, I don’t recommend homicide J.) But if you are creative and determined, I think you will find interesting ways to adjust your life. The result is better quality of life and more pleasure, and who couldn’t use that?

Annoyances drain our energy, distract us from our primary work, and sometimes bring with them negative energy and spiraling emotions.

Sometimes the annoyances that get under our skin the most tell us a little bit about who we are. I ran across a great blog post by Stacy Claflin that goes into that a little further, in case you’re interested. Another great post by Pilar Gerasimo delves into the zen of tolerations and why we still need to remove annoyances.

Happy New Year, everyone! Hope you’ll take a moment to work on your personal list of annoyances. I promise you it will be an interesting experience. And if you take action, it might just really change your experience of 2012.

Please feel free to comment about your own take with annoyances.

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

Pasture Magic: Bonding with Horses and Donkeys

2011-12-23T21:00:00.000-08:00

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

Christmas always makes me think about horses (and donkeys, too, of course). I’m not sure how I originally made this connection. Maybe it had to do with my earliest desire for a Christmas pony.

By the way, that pony never materialized until I bought it for myself when I turned 40! (Well, ok, I actually bought two ponies, probably because I thought that fulfillment of that wish was so overdue.)

A few years later, my husband surprised me at Christmas with a Belgian mare, and Nadia is still a strong contender for “best gift ever.”

Nadia with Dwayne

But sometimes my non-farming friends want to know what drives me to continue the farm these days. To be honest, it has never been a profitable venture, and it requires huge investments of time, money, and hard work. It also brings with it a disturbing lack of freedom.

However, I can justify it all by citing how rewarding the equine/donkey bond is for me. Even in this time of economic uncertainty—especially in this time—the bond I feel with my equine and donkey friends makes me feel more sane and balanced.

They are a constant in a world of turmoil and change. I can count on connecting with them when I can’t count on anything else.

Recently I was watching an episode of Two Broke Girls. In case you aren’t familiar with it, the sitcom is based on a poor but delightfully down-to-earth waitress who befriends a fallen rich girl. The rich girl moves in to the poor girl’s apartment in Brooklyn with her horse, Chestnut, who lives right outside their back door. With winter coming, the girls decide to find Chestnut a more suitable home. When Max (the poor waitress) is saying goodbye to Chestnut, she experiences a bonding moment. I surprised myself by bursting into tears and had trouble getting ahold of myself. That made me start thinking about why horses and donkeys matter so much in my own life.

Max's bonding moment with Chestnut in Two Brok Girls

The past year has been extremely tough for many of us. We have collectively experienced a lot of loss. Dump a nasty economy on top of that, toss in some diminishing dreams, and there is little left to hold on to.

When my heart feels heavy, I know what to do to balance my spirit. I head out into the pastures, and put my hands on our donkeys and horses. They live in the moment, and bring me back to it. Standing firmly planted on land with my hands on the freest of creatures, I regain my center.

If I could send you a Christmas gift, it would be a package full of the feeling I just described.

Knowing that I always have this connection available allows me to take bigger risks and pursue dreams that would otherwise be deep-sixed. And to me, that kind of support and connection is what drives my passion for farming and ranching.

I’m especially thankful this holiday season to be celebrating with friends and family at the ranch.

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

I’d love to hear about your own connection with horses and/or donkeys. Please feel free to leave a comment.

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

Call Me Gumby: Thoughts on Flexibility

2011-12-16T11:11:00.000-08:00

http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e59/LeeAnnHuff/gumby.jpg

I must confess that I have often been described as a “control freak.” Lately I have been running a grand experiment, attempting to become a more flexible version of myself. The results have been amusing.

Interesting things happen when I relinquish control. And some of them are pretty dang cool! It’s kind of like the song lyric: “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

Sometimes I believe that because I’m highly organized, I know how to plan things. But recently some of my most rewarding insights and experiences have arrived decidedly in the form of PLAN B, or even C.

I’m the kind who likes to plan my spontaneity, ya know? J But these days I’m getting more credit for “rolling with it” and being flexible. Few things actually run according to plan anyway, so why not relax?

I used to think that staying “on task” was the goal. Now I’m thinking that flexibility is a better goal, primarily because it is easier and yields better results. Go figure.

http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f398/davidpk_om3/om.jpg

Maybe there is value in the idea of getting out of your own way. After all, there isn’t much certainty in life, and people (and their values, motivations, and dreams) frequently change over time.

With the holidays upon us, I’m hoping that I can let go of my expectations and just roll with whatever happens next. For me, Christmas is rarely a series of Norman Rockwell portraits anyway. Perfection is certainly out of reach, so I’m trying to just embrace the good moments, and to cope with the not so good. With a less rigid outlook, I'm finding that a lot easier.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about being flexible versus sticking with your plans. Feel free to leave a comment.

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

Grinchmas: Top 10 Ways to De-emphasize Gifts and Reclaim your Christmas Spirit

2011-12-09T20:27:00.000-08:00

We talk about the true meaning of Christmas—the baby Jesus in the manger, and peace and goodwill towards all. So why is it so hard not to stress out over the required gift-giving?

In this economy, almost all of us are stretching, Christmas or not. Should we really take on credit card debt (if we even have credit left) for gifts that will, most likely, not be remembered even a few months later?

I wish I could buy all of you lavish and interesting gifts, I really do. But I can’t. So what I’m giving you this year is ten ideas about how to redefine Christmas Spirit and de-emphasize gifts:

1. Change your own attitude. Christmas is really about the Baby in the manger, and peace and goodwill towards all, right? We need to GET this.

2. If you are used to exchanging lavish gifts with those closest to you, consider sending out positively worded Grinch Alerts (or call) saying you’d like to tone things down this year. Offer handmade gifts, baked goods, or volunteer to babysit for a single mother who never gets out of the house.

3. Put your emphasis on RELATIONSHIPS and sharing the holiday with those you love. Go look at Christmas lights, watch favorite Christmas movies, or go caroling. Light a fire and drink hot cocoa or cider with friends. Attend or participate in a Christmas Parade. Help an elderly neighbor string some lights or put up a tree. Volunteer somewhere.

4. If postage is a problem, send ecards. Or how about a phone call or two to faraway friends and relatives?

5. Trim your list for those gifts you simply must give.

6. Buy in bulk so you can spend quality time with your friends and family this year. It really is ok to give the majority on your list the same cool inexpensive gift—just be sure it’s well thought out. You can give personalized gifts on birthdays, when they matter more.

7. If you have small children, you may be thinking about how out of touch I am. My suggestion is to buy or make lots of small gifts and wrap them separately. For most kids, it’s all about the element of surprise. And if you are really pinching pennies, just be sure to spend lots of quality time with your kids this Christmas. That’s something they understand and will remember. I promise you they won’t remember what they didn’t get for long.

8. Here’s a radical one: Change the date on your gift-giving. For a multitude of reasons, my sister and I are getting together for Christmas closer to New Year’s. If you move the gift-giving piece away from the 25^th, it’s easier to de-emphasize it.

9. Use what you have on hand for gifts. Do you have pine trees that could yield you Christmas wreaths or garland to give as gifts? Can you make homemade Christmas ornaments?

10. This last one is important: If you receive an unexpected gift, just be gracious. Don’t flinch and make everyone uncomfortable. Big smile, big thank you! That is really all that needs to be said. If you launch into a big speech about how they shouldn’t have, how you didn’t, and how awful you feel, you’ll just ruin it for the other person.

http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff148/ou812dillo/Christmasspirit.jpg

Ok, it's time to get out there and have some Christmas fun! And get over the gift thing, already. You might be surprised by how much it changes your experience of the holidays. Merry Christmas, Ya’ll!

I’d love to hear about ways you’ve come up with to reclaim your own Christmas Spirit. Please feel free to leave a comment.

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

SITTING IN A KALEIDOSCOPE

2011-12-02T19:30:00.000-08:00

Photo from inside the kaleidoscope by Marianne M. Smith

Yesterday I had a shocking and awesome experience: I sat in a kaleidoscope! No, that is NOT a typo. I sat IN, not ON a kaleidoscope. It was a curious and fascinating happening.

I’m sharing this with you because it has completely changed my thinking. Sometimes a new experience equals a new perspective, and in this case? Well, boy howdy!

I need to thank Matt Thomas, BFA student exhibiting and getting ready to graduate from TTU/Appalachian Center for Craft. I’m doing some marketing work there and one of the joys of being on site is encountering art in a personal way while walking through the buildings. Matt created this “sit in” kaleidoscope, along with some of the other delights you see in my photo below.

Matt Thomas Exhibition, kaleidoscope at left. Photo by Marianne M. Smith

Merriam-Webster defines kaleidoscope as “a succession of changing phases or actions.” In its simplest form, a kaleidoscope is a circle of mirrors with a changing perspective.

My experience was that sitting in Matt’s kaleidoscope made me think about old things in a new way. I’m in a phase of my life where I’m looking for creative solutions to old problems, and it was like I was zapped from the heavens.

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

I hope that you have experienced art this way, or that you will very soon. (If you’re anywhere near Smithville, TN, Matt’s exhibit will be up until December 12^th at Appalachian Center for Craft.)

One thing I loved about Matt’s exhibit was the concept of art giving back. The gumball machine delivered time capsules, and the floating dog delivered humor and the element of surprise. The exhibit was formally themed as Encapsulation. It seems art can enclose as well as open. Of course, my take on all this is certainly open to your interpretation.

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

But I’d like to challenge you. Go out this week and experience some art first-hand. You might just have a life-altering experience like I did. At the least, you’ll gain a new perspective, and perhaps, a fresher way of thinking. And that, my friends, can bring about some interesting shifts.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about how you experience art. Please feel free to leave a comment. And until they drag me out of the building, you can find me sitting in the kaleidoscope!

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

Decompression: The Other White Meat

2011-11-25T15:11:00.000-08:00

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y44/missourireb/Hawaii/Bryandiving32.jpg

I think the day after Thanksgiving is for blowing off steam. We’ve all been unnaturally gracious and thankful, and we need to let out a collective deep breath.

The Black Friday thing is way too over the top for me. It’s hugely ironic: Yesterday we were gracious and thankful, so today we can be mercenary and maniacal. We can make retail workers get up before dawn (we may choose to, but I bet they would not…), we can pepper spray the other shoppers, and get exactly what we need for Christ’s birth. But I digress…

So back to decompression. What are your favorite ways to decompress? I like to exercise to let off steam. Today it was an easy paddle in the kayak, but jumping on the treadmill or doing a Pilates workout also deflate my excess energy.

Photo By Marianne M. Smith on Black Friday (Center Hill Lake, TN)

I asked my husband his favorite way to decompress, but I can’t repeat what he said in an internet post J.

Decompression is a very useful tool in my arsenal, and, I hope, in yours. Some might say that watching TV is decompressing, but I think it’s a little more intentional than that. To me, decompressing is not passive. It’s about setting out to drain off some excess energy.

And no matter what works for you, I think shedding some of this over the top energy is necessary during (and after) the holidays. We usually have demands and family obligations thrust upon us. If you can escape these, I’m envious. But most of us do more compromising during the holidays than we do any other time of the year.

Give yourself a break during this long holiday weekend, if you can. Take a deep breath and think about some ways you can intentionally decompress. After all, you need your energy in top form to get ready for Christmas! J

How do you decompress? Share your thoughts and inspire someone else! Feel free to leave a comment.

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

Personal Brand or Personality?

2011-11-18T12:10:00.000-08:00

photobucket.com/albums/c277/jess1z1/personal/collectionJ4.jpg[/IMG]

I’ve recently had the distinct pleasure of meeting (online) two larger-than-life individuals who are experts at personal branding: Mari Smith and Michael Port. Both of them have a lot to say about the importance of being your truest self while being relevant and forging relationships.

I was looking over some notes I’ve made from their advice, when a Tweet from @johnhaydon popped up on my screen:

You don't need a brand, you need a personality. :-)

Now that made me giggle, but there is significant truth in that nugget. Michael Port emphasizes that if you base your brand on your personality, you can take it with you when you change jobs or enterprises. Mari Smith’s personality is so big and so unique that it truly is her brand. And when Michael talks, people immediately know that he’s real and genuine and interested in connecting in meaningful ways.

photobucket.com/albums/zz20/esmeme505/ IMG_3155.jpg[/IMG]

When I was a practicing Realtor, my personal brand was The Real Estate Cowgirl and later The NO BULL Team. Now that I’m a freelance writer, I’m Writer At The Ranch. Obviously the cowgirl theme is a big piece of my personality, and hence my brand.

You may be thinking that you don’t have a personal brand, or need one. Personal brands are for entrepreneurs, right? But I think you do have one, even if it’s simply your Facebook persona.

Your brand is what people think of when they think of you. Are you bubbly, sarcastic, witty, or negative? People attach recurring traits to you quickly.

What would you like your brand to be? It’s something worth thinking about.

I would love to hear your comments.

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

Connecting with Craft

2011-11-11T11:51:00.000-08:00

Recently, I discovered a gem in the middle of nowhere: Joe L. Evins Appalachian Center for Craft in Smithville, TN. Appalachian Center for Craft is a satellite campus of Tennessee Tech, and offers undergraduate degree programs, certificate programs, and workshops for the general public. They also host exhibitions in their stunning gallery, and several special events every year. And they have one of the finest craft gift shops I have ever seen, as well as a remarkable café with its own full-time chef.

http://i854.photobucket.com/albums/ab106/knight100_2010

And although I’m doing some paid marketing work for them, this is an unpaid endorsementJ.

In case you think I left the “s” off the word craft, I have learned that craft (no “s”) is now politically correct. Think high-end craft: artistry, skill, genius. The best way I can explain the uniqueness of this place is to have you take a look at the workshop schedule. Go ahead and click the link and scroll down.

If that’s not enough inspiration for you, the location itself will ignite your creativity. It’s set on over 500 wooded acres on Center Hill Lake. I’ve posted quite a few pics of Center Hill Lake on my Facebook wall, so you may already be familiar with its beauty. But here’s a recent photo, just in case:

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

I think I was taken with the magic of the Center, which is palpable. And the fact that it’s buried in the middle of a forest on the ridge of a magnificent lake puts it over the top.

Personally, I’ve always been smitten with the notion of functional art, which, to me, is craft. Defining art versus craft is tricky, and probably the subject for a separate blog post. But I love using hand thrown pottery for daily meals, keeping my magazines in a hand forged metal basket, and wearing a one-of-a-kind wrap woven from fleece that came from our own farm.

Some may argue with me, but I believe that the things we choose to surround ourselves with should be beautiful. If you admire something every time you use it, that is really something.

A piece of pottery in my own collection that still delights me after 25 years

And taking it one step further, if you can learn to create your own beautiful functional objects, well then…

If you’re ever heading towards Knoxville on I-40, you should consider taking a few hours to explore the Appalachian Center for Craft. You’ll be both impressed and inspired. And if you need a creative summer getaway, be sure to think about their longer workshops. You can stay on site for the entire workshop and eat that incredible food I mentioned. And you'll be cementing your own connection to craft!

How do you view craft in your own life? I’d love to hear about it. Please feel free to leave a comment.

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

Collards and Cornbread

2011-11-04T15:12:00.000-07:00

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

“What’s for dinner?” my friend asked on the phone. “Collards and cornbread,” I replied. “Wow! Are you Southern, or what?!” he shot back.

That got me to thinkin’. What exactly defines a Southerner anyway? Is being Southern a state of mind, a state of grace, or a state of the Union?

Is it simply knowing that grits are never singular?

That tailgating is an art form?

That “ya’ll,” “thank you,” “please,” and “Bless her little heart!” hold the keys to the kingdom?

That banjo music and casseroles are sacred?

Is it about wraparound porches, screen rooms, Rugers and Rottweilers?

I mean, what really defines us?

I remember being in a quandary when I was young because my grandmother did not think I was “appropriate” for presentation at the Nineteenth Century Club in Memphis. (Can you even imagine that?)

To me, that was quite the mysterious institution. I do recall getting to go by with my grandmother when they were cleaning and setting up for meetings. There were always wonderful smells: lemon furniture polish, linen napkins with heavy starch, and the scrumptious aroma of cheese grits.

My nose loved that place, but the rest of me was baffled by The Rules of Conduct and The Air of Expectation. ( I fully expected a magician to appear in the Grand Dining Room and pull a rabbit out of a hat.) And of course I wasn’t appropriate. I was young, naïve, and asked way too many questions.

Nineteenth Century Club, Memphis, TN

Even though I can now make my own cheese grits, I worry about the fate of the Nineteenth Century Club. It has been put on the market because the service club doesn’t have the money to make needed repairs ordered by the court. Any of my readers able to come to their rescue?

My good friends flatter me by saying that I can be charming and gracious when the occasion warrants it. (That's why they're good friends!) Wouldn’t Grandmother be proud? I truly believe that Southernness is passed down, generation to generation.

I can’t separate myself from the South, even when I travel elsewhere. Nor can I think of a good reason that I’d want to. To me, Southernness is truly a state of grace.

What defines Southernness for you? I’d love to hear your take on it. Please feel free to leave a comment.

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

Snapping Turtles and The World Series

2011-10-28T09:37:00.000-07:00

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dmushrush/5244146/

When Game 6 of The World Series approached the eleventh inning, inspiration arrived: How many times in life do we give up just because we perceive that the odds are stacked against us?

In case you didn’t see the game, The St. Louis Cardinals needed the win to stay in The World Series. If they lost, they were out and The Texas Rangers would be The World Series Champions.

But it was more than needing a simple win. The Cardinals had so many moments when they were one strike away from losing that I lost count. As Paul White reported in USA Today: “...The Rangers were one strike from winning a World Series — in two consecutive innings. They led by three runs in the eighth inning and two in the ninth. They had a two-run lead again in the 10th inning.”

A Cardinal fan since childhood, I found myself not breathing for most of the end of the game, and stayed up way past my bedtime as the innings racked up.

Can you imagine being Lance Berkman or David Freese, the whole weight of the game on their shoulders—the entire World Series at stake? And did they step up to bat thinking there was no way they could pull it off? I don’t think so.

Professional sports teams are usually coached to play with gusto until the game is over, no matter what. It ain’t over until it’s over, ya know? And last night it went on, and on, and on…

http://www.photobucket.com/BULL_2008b+w

My husband calls this trait “Snapping Turtle Tenacity.” It’s the ability to stay after whatever “it” is with unmatched ferocity, even when things look completely hopeless. I wonder how many times we give up or give in just before we were about to achieve something totally over the top.

Looking back, I can see several times in my life when I was a hit or two away from achieving something remarkable. But life intervened, and I hadn’t considered the snapping turtle yet.

You often hear coaches and sports analysts say that it always comes down to who WANTS the win the most. Talent helps, but drive and determination bring in the win. Pollyanna platitudes? Not if you were watching that eleven inning World Series game!

And what if you give it everything and miss the ball? Then at least you know you’ve given it your best and finished the play. But if you step up to the plate discouraged and disengaged, then you’ve already lost.

Are there things in your own life that you’re giving up on just a few seconds too early? And is it costing you everything?

And remember, no matter how many times things fall apart—think Wile E. Coyote, the poster child of Snapping Turtle Tenacity—there is always another plot to hatch.

Cardinals and Rangers: Thank you for the motivation! And you can bet I’ll be tuning in tonight to watch the most tenacious team win The World Series! Batter up!

I’d love to hear your comments. And let me know who your favorite team is for Game 7!

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

Remembering Mom

2011-10-21T07:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my Mom’s birthday. She’s been gone 17 years now, but she’s always with me. You don’t get over someone like my mother.

I’m not sure how she managed raising three children mostly by herself, particularly since she had chronic asthma and a host of other health ailments. But she was much larger than her asthma; she would try anything and do anything for her children. In that respect, she was like all good mothers.

But my Mom was unique. I remember when she showed up unexpectedly at Father/Daughter Brownie Day, knowing my Dad wouldn’t be there and I’d be devastated.

I remember when she let me buy my first horse with babysitting money, though she had to pay the boarding bills every month on a super tight budget.

I remember her crying once when she was really sick, and saying she should have encouraged me to be a dancer. (It’s ok, Mom, I really didn’t have the talent.)

I remember her waving wildly when I left home for California, off on my first big job adventure after college. Years later I asked her how she managed not to cry, as I cried all the way to Texas before I ran out of tears. She laughed and said she started bawling as soon as I turned the corner, and cried all weekend long.

I remember her paying my truck note while I was in grad school, even though looking back it was a much bigger struggle for her than I thought it was.

I remember her driving to Boulder to visit me and bringing all my worldly goods with her, so I’d be more comfortable while I was in school.

We had a special bond that was always laced with humor. I’m telling a little story here, but please withhold your judgment until the end J. I came to visit once and found my Mom’s house filled with flowers of every kind and description. Vases of fresh cut flowers were everywhere. Knowing she didn’t have a beau and that she didn’t have the money to buy them, I inquired about their origin. Mom said that on her nightly walk with the dogs she had decided to cut them out of a neighbor’s garden. I was horrified, and told her so. She assured me that she had cut them very carefully, picking and choosing, and being so conscientious that the neighbor would never notice. About the judgment caveat—it was around this time that we discovered she had significant brain damage from her breathing difficulties which left her wildly impulsive.

Previously, my Mom had been overly loving, but was always tightly wound—probably from the stress of being a single parent. The type of brain damage she suffered made her much more direct, much more daring, and quite fun. For example, once we saw a fire hydrant that had been knocked loose two miles from her house. She asked for my help and we drug it home with a chain behind the station wagon and installed it in the back yard for the dogs. (And yes I know that was not terribly legal, but she was so delighted when she discovered the upended hydrant that I couldn’t deny her.)

My Mom appears often in my dreams and still offers advice. Basically, she says I should have anything I want, do anything I want, and be anything I want. (Told you she was dangerous!) And she lets me know that she will always love me unconditionally. It just doesn’t get any better than that. Happy Birthday, Mom! (And ya’ll watch out for your gardens, in case I decide to cut some flowers for the party!)

Please feel free to comment.

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

Fed Up with Sitting Down

2011-10-14T09:57:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of Photobucket.com/Oterrick

Sitting all day makes me crazy—plain and simple. (I can hear my husband chiming in: CraziER.) Don’t get me wrong, I love to write. But so far it seems that writing requires too much sitting, even if I move away from the computer and break out pen and paper. And writing a lot means sitting a lot, which, ironically, leaves me exhausted and cranky.

So you can imagine my delight (c’mon, you can) when I ran across (pardon the pun) this whole barrage of articles about working while walking on a treadmill.

I’m still trying to figure out if 1.2 miles per hour is a doable speed while drinking coffee and eating toast. And what happens when the cats decide to jump on with me? And what if I spill all this food and drink on the belt—will it tolerate a few sacrificial meals? (Or maybe I’ll eat less anyway since I won’t be so frustrated from having to sit?)

TrekDesk as featured on Amazon.com

But I’m still really liking this idea. It’s healthier AND more productive—hard to beat that combo. I need to save up a bit and figure out how to alter my existing work space to fit the treadmill. And the multi-tasking part may be a challenge for my clutzy side. But I know I can do this. I wonder how many motors I’ll burn up?

Even if you’re not a writer, most traditional jobs require long periods of sitting still. Most of the science says that there are better ways to be productive. And it’s not that hard to set up a treadmill desk. If you have a quiet treadmill and some creativity, you may even manage a homemade inexpensive version.

Anyone else going to think about giving this a whirl? Any of you jet-setters doing it already? I’d love to hear about whether it works for you. Till then, I’ll just have to sit tight.

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

It's a Jungle in Here

2011-10-07T08:12:00.000-07:00

Plants, plants everywhere

Leaves in my crazy hair

Grasshoppers running ‘round

No blank square footage to be found.

That about sums it up, but I still don’t understand why it makes my husband so nutso. I mean, I’d love to have a greenhouse, but I don’t yet. If you read last week’s piece on Transitioning, you know how the end of the growing season affects me.

So what if every year about this time I decide that I can’t let my plants die, and I bring them in for over-wintering? What is all this vertical space for if not for hanging plants?

Elvis had a Jungle Room, and it’s everyone’s favorite. Why can’t I? I know when we brought all these ferns home that I said I’d let them go at the end of the season, but I just can’t be held to that promise when they’re all green and bushy and have names.

Once we get the ferns hung, we’ll be able to soak in the corner tub again. And think about how plants improve air quality. We need plenty of that due to all the animals in the house. (And that’s the stuff for another blog piece…)

I can multi-task by talking to my plants while I’m on the treadmill. So what if I have to move them to turn the treadmill AND the music on?

And ducking under the banana plants to get into your office is good stretching, I tell him.

I will admit that some of the containers are rather heavy, and that bringing them in is no picnic. But they give me an instant start to my garden next year, and it makes my husband so happy when we move them back outside!

Once he became a Master Gardener I thought this aversion to plants in the house would go away, but he remains stalwart. It was easier when we had a larger domain. I’ll grant you that.

But once all the green comes inside I feel so much better. And it’s all about me, right? And of course I’m saving the planet, one plant at a time.

Do you have trouble like this with your spouse or significant other? I’d love to commiserate, just as soon as I catch some of these grasshoppers and release them into the wild...

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

Transitioning Bites

2011-09-30T17:39:00.000-07:00

Even my scarecrow has decayed!

I know that most people welcome fall. After all, who doesn’t like Harvest Festivals, crisp air, pumpkins, and Halloween? It’s a welcome change after the long hot summer, especially in the Deep South.

But there is a moment, a few weeks actually, where all I see is transition. And it’s one I don’t welcome, not one tiny bit.

My beloved garden goes into a death march. It quits producing. Plants keel over, seemingly overnight. And here in the South, it’s still warm during the day. So I’m outside, staring death in the face.

Dead Daisies

Today, with my husband’s help, we weeded and tucked in our Peony bed for the winter. The plants are long burnt and even decaying. They remind me of the darkest part of winter; the part without gardening and sunlight and hope. We buried them in cardboard and straw and prayed for their resurrection.

Joyless gardening: Tucking plants in for the winter

I have always been a child of summer—of light, heat, and intensity. I have no patience for transitions.

You can remind me of toasty fires and hay rides—of mums and pansies and hard cider. But my heart is still sick about this whole transition business. I am already missing the daylight, and the promise that warm summer days always bring to the farm. Daylight Savings Time? Don’t even get me started.

In a few weeks, I will adjust and reluctantly embrace fall. But I need a little time to mourn what is lost until next year. I’m sure I sound morose and some of you may be questioning my state of mind. That’s ok.

Sunshine and color? Bye-bye!

There is a season for everything. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s this transitioning thing that really bites. Hard cider, anyone?

Anyone else out there feel this way about early fall? I’d love to hear your comments.

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

Hearing Weirdness

2011-09-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

Image: Jeroen van Oostrom / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

My new hair stylist told me this story while trimming my hair:

This lady calls to check on her appointment. At least, I thought it was a lady. I have trouble on the phone, but I thought she said her name was Jamal Searcy. I kept searching the book, but couldn’t find anyone with this name. I repeated her name several times to be sure I had it right, and she kept saying Jamal Searcy. Finally I decided it was the owner’s husband, who likes to place prank calls. So I gave the phone to her and rolled my eyes.

Later I found out the lady really WAS a customer who was asking: Is tomorrow Thursday? Do you know how many weird conversations I get into because I can’t hear well on cell phones?

Ah, I do indeed! My hub and I often have totally bizarre and nonsensical conversations because neither of us hears well anymore. In hindsight, I’m wondering how many disagreements over the years were the result of lame ears? We have named this plight Hearing Weirdness.

Image: photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

And to make matters worse, we have similar vision issues because we can no longer see without readers (that never seem to be within reach). No matter how many pair we have, we can’t ever seem to find them. Part of the problem, of course, is finding them without being able to see.

Image: Stuart Miles / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

We are fifty-ish, not eighty-ish, so I’m wondering how much worse it will get. I do a lot of lip-reading, but when we watch bad TV we sit side by side and I’m unable to employ my special powers. That’s when the conversations get startlingly strange. We’ll start talking and then one of us will look at the other with a “what the hell did you just say” look, and we crack up. If we’re lucky, we’ll get it figured out on the second or even third try.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing more now—less chance to be totally misunderstood. Or so I hope!

Have you had any weird conversations lately? I’d love to hear about them—if only I could. Please share!

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

Reinventing Everything

2011-09-16T10:37:00.000-07:00

My husband gets a big kick out of the TV show Picker Sisters. In case you aren’t familiar with it, two best friends (not actually sisters) hit the road in search of rusted out junk that they can turn into interesting furniture or décor.

The kicker in this for me is that these designers scour the Deep South, and then sell the reinvented stuff in Los Angeles! My poor misguided brother (bless his heart) lives in L.A., and always comments about how glad he is that he finally escaped The South. But The South is rising again and being sold for big bucks on Rodeo Drive. Ah, the irony!

I do love the idea of reinventing everything. It’s cheap, green, and highly creative. I’m a big fan of rusted out farm stuff myself, always thinking about what I can do with it next. The Picker Sisters would score big out in my neck of the woods.

We've also become addicted to Storage Wars, along with most of America. I guess we all have dreams of finding buried treasure in unlikely places! The hunt must be a predatory instinct. It’s why we stop at garage sales and frequent flea markets. And Antiques Roadshow has a good following because people are blown away by what things are worth (or not worth).

Lately I have begun to look around my house when I think I need to go buy something, to see if I can repurpose something that is already here. It’s helping me manage our new downsized life and it’s also kind of a fun challenge. I’ve come up with some crazy ideas that have worked fairly well, and saved money and time in the process.

When the Picker Sisters reinvented an old meat saw as a sink/vanity table, I thought I had seen it all. But now I’m looking around the farm to see if I can outdo them!

Have you repurposed anything interesting lately? I’d love to hear about it. Please comment below, and thanks for reading, ya’ll!

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

Call Me Wrong Way

2011-09-09T11:13:00.000-07:00

How come I never see this sign?

My sense of direction is so bad that when I first started driving, way before cell phones, my Mom always made sure I had a roll of quarters in my car so I could phone home when I got lost. I miss my Mom!

Many years ago while having dinner with several friends in a revolving restaurant, I left the table to visit the restroom. When I came out, I couldn’t find my dinner companions. After several revolutions around the restaurant (while my dinner got cold), a sweet waiter finally came to my aid.

I once lost my car in a parking garage in Vail. After walking the garage for hours in freezing temps, I had to phone a friend to come pick me up. I missed an important appointment, was on the verge of frostbite, and was frustrated beyond belief.

One afternoon our credit card company called my husband to express concern that someone was driving around a two state area in circles and filling up, using our gas card. My husband knew immediately that it was only me.

You’d think with a 50/50 chance to get the direction right, I’d come out on the right side of things every once in awhile. But for some reason, that’s just not true. Sometimes I even try going the opposite way of the direction I think I should be going, and even that strategy doesn’t always bring good results.

To me, the GPS is the greatest invention EVER! But a few times it has led me majorly astray, so I still get nervous. And sometimes it shorts out, which sends me into a meltdown. Before I got a GPS, Mapquest.com was my salvation, but I printed so many routes that I never had any printer ink! Nevermind what happened if I got off the route...

My husband, who almost never gets lost, finds it mind-boggling that I can drive somewhere and then I need the GPS to get back home. I know, I know—I can hear the blonde jokes rising.

Now this sign has my name all over it!

My mother and my father both had an excellent sense of direction. Does it skip a generation? I really find the whole poster girl for LOST thing quite inconvenient.

I’m hoping that when my time comes the Lord will beam me directly up, ‘cuz if I have to find the pearly gates on my own I’ll be in a world of hurt.

How’s your sense of direction? Do you think there’s any cure for me? I’d love to hear your comments.

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

Mashed Potatoes: My Big Why

2011-09-02T07:30:00.000-07:00

In these uncertain times, the motivational experts say it is critical to understand your Big Why. They say it is the key to everything.

After a very short amount of thought, I can say with every certainty that my Big Why is mashed potatoes.

Because? you might ask:

1. They are yummy.

2. They are comforting.

3. They are soooooo very Southern.

4. I cannot imagine a life worth living without them.

I have two major items left on my Life Action List that involve mashed potatoes:

1. Grow my own potatoes for mashing. (Fresh is always better.)

2. Open a Mashed Potato Bar.

At said bar you could take your heapin’ plate of mashies down a gourmet buffet of toppings, just in case you felt some odd need to embellish them. They would be the only food served.

Appropriate beverages would be available. Kendall Jackson Chardonnay is the perfect accompaniment to mashed potatoes, in my humble opinion. But being your humble servant, I would also carry your favorite beverage. Eating mashed potatoes is a soul-enriching experience, and I’d want you to achieve perfect bliss.

And speaking of bliss, if I owned a Mashed Potato Bar, there might be leftover mashed potatoes. There are never any of those at our house!

It is a documented fact that you feel better when you help others. Make yourself feel great: Message me your favorite recipe for mashed potatoes! If you like, I’ll send you mine.

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

Looking For The Spoon

2011-08-26T15:25:00.000-07:00

This diagram caused me to chuckle at first, but man is this true! I’m a Baby Boomer and a Catholic school girl, so I always thought over-achievement was the norm. As I’ve gotten older and reality has set in, my fondness for box wine has deepened. But I digress…

The current economic slump has everyone on the over-achiever bandwagon. Try harder! Do this! Do that! If you fail, it’s your own fault. And while I’ll happily take responsibility for my career, reality DOES factor in. I’m kinda tired of drinking the superwoman Kool-Aid, ya know?

I grew up wanting to be a dancer. Now I’m a writer. Have I settled? Should I write about dancing? I’m 53. Isn’t that a bit old to ditch the writing for dancing? I have a friend my age who owns her own dance studio and dances every day! Of course, she’s been doing that for years, but I’m sure you understand my point. Life happens and sometimes we trade in our dreams. Other times, they simply change.

At times I find it difficult to decide when to hold on to what I’ve got, and when to let go or move on. I ran across this question recently and find it useful when I feel stuck:
What do I want instead of this? (And just for the record, the question keeps leading me back to writing.)

My husband said something profound today (it does happen occasionallyJ):
“If there’s a fork in the road, look for the spoon.”

There just might be some hidden wisdom in that. Maybe if we don’t know which way to turn, we’re at the wrong intersection.

Your comments and personal experiences are always welcome.

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

Riding Shotgun with Mimi: A Tribute to my Great-Grandmother

2011-08-19T11:04:00.000-07:00

My great-grandmother was a building contractor, long before that was a fashionable occupation for women. When I stayed with her I got to tag along to job sites and observe.

We’d travel in Mimi’s Mercury, which was kept in tip-top shape by the Esso mechanic at the end of her street. (I can’t remember his name now, but Mimi always did.)

Her car didn’t have seat belts, so I spent most of the ride with her outstretched arm pinning me to the seat. “Hurry up! Hurry up!” I always demanded, excited about seeing workers crawling like ants all over a home being built. “In a minute, in a minute, Princess!” was always her reply.

Mimi liked to line up the long Mercury with the white lines in the road. As in, she straddled them. Riding with her was always an adventure.

Arriving at a job site, Mimi would exit the Merc gingerly in her printed flower dress, hose with garters, and heels. She also wore a corset, which fascinated me.

With Southern Belle grace she would walk the site, greeting all the workers and calling them by name. Then she would make a second round, this time carefully appraising their work. She would bat her large and beautiful eyes and point out that the framing looked “a bit crooked here,” and: “What about that trim over there—it isn’t quite square now, is it?”

And other things looked “quite lovely” and “just right.”

Then we’d be off to Goldsmith’s to buy a few things for the house, or a gift for a friend. And back home to Mimi and Popie’s.

Popie was a stay-at-home accountant who didn’t drive. (He had obviously been terrified by Mimi’s lane-straddling and had completely given up the idea of being on the road.)

But he delighted me because he liked to play games and would tell me the funniest stories.

Things were different here than at home. We ate ice cream with ginger ale poured on top right before bedtime, and Mimi and Popie fell asleep in their chairs watching Lawrence Welk or Johnny Carson.

I slept in “The Green Room” on a pull-out bed that weighed a ton, and drifted off listening to trains rumble by.

In the morning after Mimi dressed up, we’d have a big cooked breakfast—not cereal like we had at our house. Mimi made the most amazing biscuits from something called scratch. I remember her calling my Mom once to ask if I could have some of her prune juice because I was begging for it. (I got some, too!)

Before I finished high school, Mimi died with grace--just as she had lived--and our family moved in with Popie. And that great-grandmotherly part of my world ended.

But to this day I grin whenever I pass a busy construction site, thinking of Mimi rambling around in there working her magic.

Mimi: This blog’s for you! Happy Birthday! I’m proud to be named after you, Mary Martisha Clark Quarles. And someday I'm gonna have a big honkin' Mercury!

I hope you’ll share some favorite memories of your own great-grandparents. I’d love to read them.

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

Dr. Seuss and the Joy of Nonsense

2011-08-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

Because of our flailing economy, everything is serious. We’re all serious, all the time. Or at least that's how it feels...

I’ve decided to briefly escape this situation by intentionally delving into nonsense. Fight fire with fire, right? J

Nonsense is defined by several sources as “words or language having no meaning.” Nonsense is the writer’s nightmare. Or, is it?

I’m rereading Dr. Seuss’s collection and I’m finding that nonsense delights me. “One fish Two fish Red fish Blue fish!” Check out these synonyms for nonsense from Thesaurus.com:

absurdity, babble, balderdash, baloney, bananas, bombast, bull*, bunk, claptrap, drivel, fatuity, flightiness, folly, foolishness, fun, gibberish, giddiness, hogwash, hooey, hot air, imprudence, inanity, irrationality, jazz, jest, jive, joke, ludicrousness, madness, mumbo jumbo, palaver, poppycock, prattle, pretense, ranting, rashness, rot, rubbish, scrawl, scribble, senselessness, silliness, soft soap, stupidity, thoughtlessness, trash*, tripe

Doesn’t that list just make your heart sing? Who knew that nonsense could be such fun!

In the words of Dr. Seuss:
“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living.”

I have to say that as a novelist I agree wholeheartedly with Seuss’s statement. Writing fiction is, on some levels, recreating things as you wish them to be—if only for the moment, on paper.

And while my novel is currently being edited, I am escaping all thoughts of the red pen by romping in total nonsense. It is a child-like behavior, in the best sense of that phrase. As children we find pure joy in the nonsensical; the more nonsensical, the better.

And while nonsense does not put food on the table (unless you’re Dr. Seuss), solve relationship issues, or train your dog, it sure puts you in a better frame of mind to tackle these things.

Give it a try and see if I’m right. Feel free to leave a comment about your experiences.

Until next time, I’m out looking for Green Eggs and Ham!

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

The Anguish of Loss

2011-08-05T10:58:00.000-07:00

This week one of our dearest friends dropped dead. The phone call with the news stunned me. To compound matters, several other good friends have lost loved ones lately; one lost his Dad, one her sweet Mom-In-Law (in addition to having her job of 22 years eliminated the day before), and another lost her brother (who was my teacher). And yet another lost her nineteen year-old son.

I’ve been doing a dance with anguish and anger, and I don’t like it one bit. And yeah, I know that anger is a natural and maybe even necessary reaction to these circumstances, but I am exhausted from being angry.

I’m no stranger to loss. I lost my extraordinary Mother way too early, and my Dad long before he died. My husband’s parents are also both gone, and we went through his Dad’s death together.

So I’m not really sure where my anguish and my anger are coming from. Sure I realize that a long life is not a given, and I’m grateful that our good friend didn’t suffer. But still I alternate between being profoundly sad and profoundly pissed off.

Since I have a fairly substantial psych background, you’d think I’d be better equipped to cope.

Last night my husband said that he wished he could have just one more conversation with our good friend. I feel the same way. I think our friend knew how we felt about him, but I wish I could be damn sure.

Life is short. Friends are precious. I’m planning to do a better job of making sure my friends know just how much they mean to me.

In Memory of Harold Walker

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

If You Dig It, Don't Do It

2011-07-29T07:43:00.000-07:00

If you dig it, don't do it
And if you like it, better leave it alone
And if it's too much fun that ought to clue you son
That you're probably doing something that's wrong
--Little Charlie and the Nightcats

If you have a minute (and it’s Friday, so c’mon), click this link and give a good listen to this tune by Little Charlie and the Nightcats. It really sets the mood for this blog post.

As you might guess after listening, this week and last were full of appointments for annual checkups. I seem to have a rather unlucky relationship with most physicians, and in the past I have been misdiagnosed with Lupus, cancer (twice), and even a brain tumor!

So I hope you understand that I was quite nervous about my recent rounds of preventive healthcare maintenance. Seems my doc conversations these days always begin with “At your age,” or “Understandably…” and get worse from there.

I have been poked and prodded, mashed, x-rayed, and spent thirty minutes with a rather nice dermatologist who eyeballed every inch of my skin. These docs have seen more of my body than my lovely husband ever has

And while I’m no physical fitness saint, I’m not usually the doctor’s worst nightmare either. So I’m always surprised by how disappointed they seem by my “levels" and vices!

Makes me wonder sometimes if I should just throw my usual health regimens to the wind. I mean, if you do all the right stuff (well ok, most of the right stuff) and the health gods are still unhappy, what the heck is the point?

There is something about sitting around in an ill-designed flapping gown waiting for someone in authority to tell me WHAT IS WRONG that makes me suffer from what they call SEVERE STRESS.

I try to tell myself I’m in control and that I’m doing good things by getting checkups. And that I’m not really sitting there waiting to hear what is wrong, but what is right and good and commendable.

But that’s not how it feels, is it?

You need to lose some weight, you need to stand up straight.
Boy, your posture is a terrible disgrace
You need to suck in your gut, you need to tuck in your butt,
you need to clear them zits up off of your face.

And I kept waitin' and waitin' for the man to finish,
but the sucker just went on and on... on and on... and on.
–Little Charlie and the Nightcats

If any of you can offer suggestions on how to NOT feel like a helpless twit in these circumstances, I would love to hear your comments. Or, just come on over for a drink or two and some dessert J. For now I gotta run, really!

Marianne M. Smith

Writer At The Ranch

Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time

http://www.writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com

Hiking with a Vengeance

2011-07-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

Recently I went hiking with visiting relatives at Edgar Evins State Park, and remembered with a vengeance why I like to disappear into the woods.

Nature takes its time, is nonjudgmental, un-opinionated, usually quiet, and allows space for you to simply be.

She does not scream for you to be an over-achiever, and the worst thing she delivered that day was poison ivy.

Frost had it right: “The woods are lovely, dark and deep.”

Photo by Marianne M. Smith

I always come out of the woods different than when I walked in.

These mighty caterpillars were everywhere

And, amazingly, I have fewer words. So this time I’ll just share some photos taken on our hike and look forward to your comments. Or, as Thoreau said: “Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”

Natural Bamboo

Center Hill Lake wearing away at the rock

My hiking buds Denise and Ernie Franz

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

Getting Skunked: Adventures of an Animal Empath

2011-07-15T15:06:00.000-07:00

While I’m driving one of my pups to PetSmart to get her talons clipped (why is the stuff for another blog), the image of a skunk pops into my head. The visual is clear and distinct. I grip the wheel tighter and soon it passes. I don’t actually see or smell a skunk, so I find the vision interesting.

A few minutes later I have forgotten the skunk and I’m singing along with the radio. The letters D-0-G scroll briefly before my eyes, as if a cartoon overlay is running over the traffic. Amused but not frightened, I continue driving and wonder about the meaning of this unsolicited little movie. (As far as I know I’m not schizophrenic or terribly emotionally disturbed.)

Arriving at PetSmart, I attempt to hang on to my pup as she drags me to the rear of the store. We enter the grooming salon, and a cheerful tech says: “Sorry about the lingering smell. We worked on a dog all day yesterday who got skunked.” While I found this a bit startling, the images in the car now made sense.

I’ve learned that what I experienced is technically known as animal empathy—I’m an animal empath. That probably explains a lot about why I’m so in tune with the animals on my farm. An animal empath is simply someone who is sensitive to animal energy. There are many other types of empaths, too, including human empaths, of course.

My gift seems to be getting stronger at the moment, for reasons unknown to me. I’m trying to stay open-minded to see what I can learn from it. Had I not experienced similar flashes before, I would certainly have questioned my sanity, or lack thereof!

My late Mom was an animal empath and a telepath, but hid her abilities for fear of ridicule. I’m also a bit nervous about putting this out there, but it was the most interesting element in my week. And besides, it seemed like a fun blog topic!

Wondering if any of you would be willing to share your own empath experiences? I’d love to hear them. They’re making my world larger. If you think I’ve flipped a switch, that’s ok, too. But If you’re curious and want to learn more, I can highly recommend a wonderful book: Whose Stuff Is This? Finding Freedom from the Thoughts, Feelings, and Energy of Those Around You by Yvonne Perry and Caron Goode.

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

Used Cows For Sale: Rethinking Your Packaging

2011-07-08T11:54:00.000-07:00

As a writer, I often disappear into a world of my own making. But this week has been full of critical business decisions, leaving me firmly planted in the world of marketing and self-promotion. I’m getting my first novel ready for release, and every decision seems to be loaded enough to bring about either success or failure.

Several times this week I’ve stopped to stare at a favorite tin sign hanging in my kitchen: “Used Cows for Sale” it proclaims. The sign always makes me smile, but sometimes it really is about the packaging. You can sell almost anything if you wrap it right.

Mostly for reasons of autonomy and profit, I’ve decided to self-publish my novel. Because of evolving technology and changes in the book business, this route offers a lot more independent decision-making. Book cover choice? Title choice? Online promotion strategy? These topics have historically been in the hands of Agents/Publishers. But like many writers in this new era, I’ve decided to take control—making the book a true entrepreneurial venture.

Because of the jump in book sales for e-readers (think Kindle), I’ll be able to sell my book to my readers for less money, and I’ll be able to retain more of the profits than I would with traditional publishing. Now that sure seems like a win-win to me.

Why is any of this important to you? I’m simply suggesting that you rethink your packaging. If you’re selling a product or service, are you doing it with your customer completely in mind? If you’re selling yourself in some shape or fashion (like a writer does), have you given a lot of thought to how you are perceived and if that fits in with how you need to be perceived to be marketable?

In our current (un)economy you must stand out. You need to promote your “used cows” in a novel way. Of course, you also need to stay true to yourself and your vision. But I, for one, am truly delighted that what is currently selling is uniqueness. That gives us all permission to be who we are without being so focused on fitting in.

Have you made any significant changes in your packaging lately? How is that working for you? I’d love to hear your comments.

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

Wardrobe Malfunctions

2011-07-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

If you’re thinking of some superstar in an oops moment, just relax. I’m talking about my whole closet. Luckily, due to my stay-at-home writer and rancher status, I am able to be pretty dang casual about my wardrobe. Some say I have lost all the fashion sense I once had (which was never a lot).

My elderly neighbor was asking about my “ass” shirts the other day. I explained that donkey farmers have a wry sense of humor (you try raising asses without it) and it’s just the way we roll. He just smiled.

My husband is an IT guy and gets lots of freebie tech shirts with pithy slogans that the tech people, in their own sweet way, find hysterical. As a couple, our entire casual wardrobes consist of ass and tech T-shirts. The few exceptions for me are some of my (long dead) mother’s T-shirts. They are so worn and frayed that I could probably sell them to Keith Urban, who has his T’s acid-washed to achieve the same effect. Aside from sentimental reasons, I attribute still wearing these to my practical side. As McCrae says about Deets in Lonesome Dove: “He ain’t one to quit on a garment, just ‘cause it’s got a little age.”

I suppose working on the farm doesn’t help our clothes any. Most of our shirts (and to be truthful, some of our pants) are riddled with barb wire holes, indecipherable stains, and teeth marks from equine who didn’t think it was time for us to go into the house just yet. Perhaps our threads are simply a badge of farm honor? Guess I can’t use that excuse for my usual lack of appropriate undergarments…

And how do I explain the bath robe with chemical stains on it from wearing it to the hot tub? Or the mismatched socks with permanent mud stains? Do normal people dress like this?

I still work out, get regular hair cuts and go to the dentist. It’s not like I’ve let myself go completely—just my clothes. Since I almost never go anywhere, my wardrobe deficit doesn’t affect many. (Well, there is that elderly neighbor…) My hub in his IT shirts is usually not one to be critical, though he did mention the other day that one of my mother’s T-shirts had more holes than fabric.

Some say that clothes make the man. If that’s the case, I am distinctly doomed. A good day for me is when my two large pups haven’t slimed me before noon. Wonder what the aliens would say if they tried to decipher current culture here by my wardrobe? (Something about high tech ass comes to mind.)

If you’re thinking of nominating me for a wardrobe makeover, don’t bother. I seem happy and comfortable in these old and injured threads. But if you have an extra ass or IT shirt, feel free to send it my way. Every once in awhile the cycle has to begin again.

Are you a style icon? I would love to hear how you manage it. Please feel free to leave a stylish comment.

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

By Land or By Sea

2011-06-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-03T06:38:00.000-07:00

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

The Most Worthless Bug

2011-05-27T06:22:00.000-07:00

Worthless Bug--photo courtesy of Caryn Hjelmstad

I come from a long line of Cicada-haters. That’s probably why I can safely say that I’m not eating one even if it’s dipped in chocolate—no matter what The Food Network suggests!

Just in case you haven’t a clue about the 13-year invasion of these bugs in the south, cicadas are the most worthless bugs on the planet. Their only redeeming quality is when they decompose. Some bug nerd at Penn State calls them “spectacular insects,” but I’m questioning his sanity. How do you become a bug nerd, anyway? Buggy parents?

He also calls them “gregarious.” Is that because you can’t go outdoors right now without one adhering to your face? I call that extremely annoying.

Brood XIX (what the current population is called) has pushed me to my limits. I can’t sit outside on my porch due to the extremely high frequency noise they make. The bug nerds say it is a mating call, but to me it sounds like they are planning a frickin’ orgy. What kind of bugs lay 400 to 600 eggs at a time, anyway? Bugs that are red-eyed ugly, loud, frightening, nasty and worthless—that’s what kind!

They cause damage to trees and if your dogs eat too many exoskeletons they require emergency vet care. Only crows can safely eat cicadas (if you don’t count the crazies at The Food Network), and who needs more crows?

Worthless Bugs on Tree--photo courtesy of Caryn Hjelmstad

June 5^th cannot come soon enough. That’s when the current crop should go back underground for thirteen more years. I’m proclaiming June 5^th “Ding Dong The Cicadas Are Dead Day,” or DDTCADD for short. The Food Network has a cicada cocktail, but I’m sticking to box wine, or perhaps several margaritas. Or, I’ll buy you a few beers. But I’m not eating anything since all the cicada recipes have definitely tanked my appetite.

Did I mention that another Brood (Brood XXIII) is coming in 2015? I briefly considered moving north, but they have 17 year cicadas, and with my luck there might be some overlap. If you don’t see me, I’ll be out after June 5^th. Meanwhile, be careful out there!

Worthless Bugs Lounging--photo courtesy of Caryn Hjelmstad

And if you’d like to chime in with some cicada hate, I’d love to hear it! Please feel free to leave a nasty comment.

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

Just Weaned

2011-05-20T09:01:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: If you loathe self-help articles, stop here. My retired psychotherapist self seems to need a turn with my blog.

I have a picture on my desk of a lady giving a baby donkey a drink out of a cup. The caption reads, “Just weaned.” It serves as a reminder to me that we are remaking ourselves each and every day—at least if we are paying attention.

Like the young donkey, we have to be nourished and ready to meet the world before we can make our world larger. Then as you learn more about yourself the more interesting you become, and the more interests you have.

This is different than fresh out of college weaned. I’m talking about finally knowing yourself well enough to draw what you want into your life. And to ignore what you don’t want.

When you are self-editing this way you become your truest self, which makes for that sought after state called happiness. Does that mean you’re not open to trying new things? Definitely not! But editing for that “I’d like to explore that further!” (or not) feeling is important.

Photo by Marianne Smith

When you know yourself this way there is a connect-the-dots thing that happens. I like rocks, for example, perhaps because I have a distinct need to be grounded. I was not aware of this when studying rock art symbolism many moons ago. But it hit me square in the face recently while gardening with rocks.

Being over 50 is a fascinating thing because I am always fine-tuning who I am and what I’m about. Until you have laid the groundwork, it’s not possible to fine-tune anything.

What have you learned about yourself lately that has surprised you? Any “just weaned” moments? If you’re willing to share, please feel free to leave a comment. I would love to hear about your experiences.

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

Suspending Your Disbelief

2011-05-13T10:14:00.000-07:00

Jaded: Is that what we’ve all become? I had an opportunity this week to make a choice that required me to suspend my disbelief. I’m not able to go into too much detail yet about the circumstances, but I will tell you that I was exploring a new direction for my business and career.

We have so many ingrained beliefs that interfere with suspending our disbelief. We’ve heard these adages our whole life:

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
First impressions matter.
Don't count your chickens before they're hatched.
If everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

And then I added a few of my own:

There are few true opportunities in this economy.
Rural living does not offer easy access to cultural experiences.
And, in this SME-oriented era, diversity of experience is not appreciated.

I’m still not sure why I decided “What the heck!” and opted to explore this new opportunity. All the bells were ringing, and I usually pay close attention to the bells. But a smaller, quieter voice was saying: “Suspend your disbelief and go check it out.”

I could not have been more amazed at the results. A staggeringly beautiful opportunity was presented, and I had almost NOT gone to check it out because of pre-set beliefs and a handful of empty slogans that were bouncing around in my head.

Am I suggesting that you throw caution to the wind and jump on some pyramid scheme bandwagon? Should you ignore gut feelings AND reason just to be considered open-minded? Hardly.

But do consider suspending your disbelief around something for a day, a week, or even a month. What have you got to lose? I wonder how much we miss because we judge situations or events before they even unfold.

And yes, it’s important to put on our critic’s hat to evaluate most everything. But do give yourself a chance to evaluate. Dismiss things, people, or events before you’ve had a chance to evaluate, and you may just miss out on some really cool experiences.

While it’s certainly important to know who you are, and it’s time-saving to BING (bing.com), I think that search overload and the pace of modern life has led us to routinely make instant decisions. Instant decisions usually involve not having all the facts and not having developed a big-picture perspective.

Because of my incredible experience this week, I will be much less likely to dismiss things outright. I will, at the very least, consider what kind of filters/overlay I am attaching when making a quick decision.

My first wish for you is that you will suspend your disbelief while making one decision this week. My second wish is that you will be surprised or even stunned by what you almost turned away.

I would love to hear about how this works out (or doesn’t) for you. Please feel free to leave a comment.

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

The Lost Art of Wasting Time

2011-05-06T09:14:00.000-07:00

I’m late! I’m late, for a very important date!
No time to say hello goodbye, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!
--The White Rabbit, Alice in Wonderland

Or, if you prefer, we can go with a more contemporary version:

I’m in a hurry to get things done
Oh I rush and rush until life’s no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
But I’m in a hurry and don’t know why
--Alabama (I’m in a Hurry)

Perhaps the raw speed of modern life is our best excuse, but it seems that we’ve lost the sense of how to truly waste time. As I write this, I can almost hear some of you shrieking: “What? There is no time to waste! Have you seen my schedule? Are you nuts?”

It may be just because of our overloaded schedules that we need, more than ever, to waste some time. Life was not meant to be a goal-driven, overachieving, race to the finish. Take the word “journey.” Webster defines it as:

1. an act or instance of traveling from one place to another : trip

2. chiefly dialect : a day's travel

3. something suggesting travel or passage from one place to another <the journey from youth to maturity> <a journey through time>

Part of “passage” means taking your time (and not time taking you). If we never stop to waste time, to just BE, how can we possibly think that we are enjoying the journey of a life well- lived?

As one who is guilty of making “to-do” lists while at the beach on vacation, I have definitely NOT mastered this skill. But I am finally learning how to waste time, and it is changing my life for the better. I’m not talking about designated meditation time or even my nightly porch-stitting, but truly aimless don’t–know-what-I’m-going-to-do-next wandering (or sitting for that matter, if you’re not the wandering type).

You don’t set out to waste time. You merely quit worrying about what is next for a few minutes, and you quit DOING. Give it a try; I think you will be very surprised by the results. And the space you create may actually contribute to your goal-driven tasks in an unexpected way. If you still feel bad about wasted time, consider what Bertrand Russell said: “The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”

Do you have favorite ways to waste time that you’d like to share? I’d love to hear them. Please feel free to leave a comment. Meanwhile, I have some time to kill.

Marianne Smith

Writer At The Ranch

Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time

http://writerattheranch.com

wordsmith@writerattheranch.com

Peeing In The Rain

2011-04-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

My new pup is finally getting the hang of housebreaking. I know, you’re probably thinking: “OMG, she’s gonna write about pee and poo!” Actually, I’m leaning more along the lines of contemplating how routine things work well until conditions change.

On a normal day my new pup now marches right outside and does her business. But if it’s raining? Well then, it’s a whole different ballgame. She sits down and plants her feet and refuses to go out. I ask, I beg, I command. Nothing. She sits like Stonehenge: heavy, solid, unmovable.

In frustration, I pick her up, tweaking my back, and move towards the door. My giant older pup charges us, nearly knocking both of us to the floor. (He suspects this is a great new game called dog bowling…)

Being the Dog Whisperer that I am, I yell at the older pup and drag the younger one outside. We stand together in the mud under the umbrella and she steadfastly refuses to pee. I take her back in and begin my vigil of waiting for her to pee on the floor.

Seems many things in my life work smoothly until they don’t. How we handle these challenges is a true test of our character and integrity, right? (I certainly hope not.)

There seems to be a particular and singular frustration when simple things that usually run smoothly run amuck instead: the coffee filter clogs, the rain gutter overflows right over the most-used entrance to your home, the car window mysteriously slides into its’ cave during the worst weather and refuses to come back up, the AC in your car dies just as the weather turns unbearable.

I try hard to conjure up noble responses to these situations, but usually fail. Give me a natural disaster, a medical emergency, an unexpected death in the family-- and I’m a rock. But a clogging coffee filter completely unhinges me. Normally I have a good and sometimes even exuberant sense of humor, but it seems to evaporate when the frustration is small and routine.

If you have any ideas for coping with the small things in life, besides not sweating, that is (“Don’t sweat the small stuff!”), I would love to hear them. Please post your comments! Meanwhile, I’m watching my pup pee on the floor!

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time

http://www.writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com