Tag Archives: Sunday

Some Words Sunday from Beaver Lake Sue

For those of you who’ve never heard of Beaver Lake Sue, it’s my mother.  How she got that nickname is a story for another day.

For this post I wish to share one of her “Mommisms”, as the nascent “Mark of a Man” blogfest got me thinking about her advice to me when my son was born.

“Decide what you are willing to put up with and never compromise once you know your limits.”

It certainly CAN be

It certainly CAN be

As Mom-advice goes, I think it’s pretty much universally applicable .  It even applies to the ROW80 and the check-in I’ll be including at the bottom of this post.

Where I see it applies to the Mark of a Man comes from Julie Glover’s wonderful post, Stepping Up and Stepping Out that she did for the fest.  It comes from “guys”.

Guys are well…  guys.  Even the word sounds like a toss off.  Guh…eyezzz…

Sounds like something that gets stuck to the bottom of your shoe and doesn’t want to come off.   It doesn’t even have the faint ferocity of  girls with its token growl.  It’s a meh word about a meh attitude some meh people carry inside them about themselves and others.

Then there is the word man or men.  “Man” is decisive and firm.  There is quickness to acknowledge itself as being worthy of a title.  The plural softens just slightly, perhaps in admission to the magnification of its power.

Huh?

You WILL be a man

Yes, power.  A man is powerful.  I’m not talking about muscles, though on average men do tend to build muscle better than women.   I’m talking about that sense that a real man has of being good enough for whatever task he takes on and not needing to prove his prowess to the world.

I’m not talking about Players or Casanovas or … guys.

A man isn’t perfect (no more than any woman is).  A man can’t do it all.  Point is–he knows it.  He accepts it, and he does what he can do to the best of his ability.  If he can’t commit to a woman when he’s interested, he tells her up front.   If he doesn’t know if he can, he says that too.  Honesty and sharing his feelings costs him nothing, because his personal value isn’t tied up in image.  It’s tied up in the very core of his being.

And what does all this have to do with my mom’s advice?  Just this:  I see a lot of people out there who are unhappy because they got into a relationship with someone thinking “I love so much about him/her, and I’m sure that s/he can change” (unfortunately the thing they’re hoping will change usually involves physical or emotional abuse).

Stop right there!

Go back to the beginning of the post and re-read what Mom said.   Now think about this: You cannot make a person change who they are.  You can change; they can choose to change of the own accord, but you cannot make it happen.

So decide what you’re willing to put up with, what you’ll allow to happen, and don’t compromise.  Better to say “no” to yourself now than risk hurting both of you and possibly others in the future…

Caveat emptor:  You can be surprised–we’re always growing and changing as human beings, and all may work out just fine.

This week in the ROW80

Since I didn’t have much to say on Wednesday I probably should make a more detailed report for this week’s check-in.  However, since we’re all dodging high fevers here and have been  since last Sunday there’s not much more to report.

I have managed to increase my daily average word count from 800 words to 950.  It’s not a big increase, but it is an increase.

Thursday's Child Went Far

Thursday’s Child Went Far

I’ve found, courtesy of EM Castellan, another delightful blogging/Twitter group, Thursday’s Children, that shares posts on inspiration and writing.  Despite being a “Thursday’s Child” since I was born, I’m not quite ready to join the fray (I’m learning what I am willing to deal with–I said Mom’s advice applied here too) if they’d have me.  But reading the member posts was great fun and definitely inspiring.  Well worth a visit.

The trade-off in my responsive blogging and the house sick has been that I’m still not meeting my editing goals.  I have done about three pages all week. 😦

My social media and my reading goals are in track.  My Goodreads Challenge page says otherwise, but if I keep on at this pace I will be able to add another four books in a week to my tally.  And I suspect I’ll be electing a few less page-heavy classics from the pile next.

My ROW80 fitness goals have fallen by the wayside this week.  Ick does that…  I didn’t get to the YMCA at all.  I did manage some aerobics in the house between tasks, and there has been a LOT of running up and down the stairs to deal with sick family members.

I did say when we bought our house I wanted stairs to help encourage me to be active…..

Anyway, that’s about it.  Have a great week and if you feel inclined, here is the linky for the ROW80.  How about visiting a few more of our awesome crew?

Some last notes:

  • Beaver Lake is not the commonly known one in Pennsylvania, but rather a small lake in Onondaga Cty, NY.
  • The photo of Rudyard Kipling’s “If” is credit Wikimedia Commons
  • There is a cool story behind the poem, and an article to it here
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TGIS — a ROW80 check-in

Spring

Spring

Sunday!  Sunday, sunny day, sun-filled day, sun may…

With a sky the color of robin’s eggs, snow melting everywhere, I can feel Spring coming.   Time to get the seedling trays started; time to get the winter debris cleared from the edge of the lawn and the deck; time to take stock of things and plan out the next few weeks–those vital days where Summer’s activities get set on track by preparations made now.

Or maybe I’ll just take a walk and breathe the changing air.

Grandpa was a vegetable farmer, and after a season of what could only be called hibernation, he became a new man each Spring.  Instead of sleeping past dawn and daydreaming into the pages of seed catalogs, he’d begin to wake up before the morning twilight had started seeping into the house and begin his day in the old chicken coop, preparing seed trays.

Perhaps a hundred future seedlings would be prepared before we had all woken and Grandma would be ready for him to bring her breakfast.  Hot tea and rye toast with butter…

I’d be reading one of her Agatha Christie novels in bed, waiting until I’d been told it was time to get up, finally having the bedroom to myself because Noni, my great-grandmother, would have gotten up at six and be downstairs, watching her shows, making the room restful and dream-worthy.

I’d look the door to her huge walk-in closet blocked as it was by a big old chair and wonder why no one wanted to go in there.  Was it like the door to the old kitchen in the back of the house, where Poppy had shot himself than live his life carrying around a dialysis bag?  How was it that at Grandma and Grandpa’s house there were so many closed doors and secrets, so many places called “we don’t talk about that” or “hush, stop asking questions–you’ll hurt your Noni’s (or Grandma’s or Grandpa’s, etc.) feelings”?

It’s no wonder I grew up to love stories with layers upon layers of family secrets and mysteries.

And if I could write them with the power I felt and lived them as a child, I’d consider myself an accomplished writer, whether a single book sold or not.

And now that Spring is returning, I’m returning to those days…  to mysteries that I know and understand now better, returning a bit to my childhood and seeing the layers for what they are.

IMG_2790

Family at the Farmer’s Market

Do I have the right to tell these stories?

ROW80 check-in:

Writing

There isn’t much new to report.  The daily word count is maintaining its 800 word average, though I was intending to raise that bar to 1.5K last Sunday on my Facebook check-in post.  Life intervened and said “Maybe next week, but not this one”.  A good thing has started happening since my Wednesday post, though.  The words involve less of me and more on stories–other people’s stories at the moment, but still my focus turns once again outward.

Editing

There has been very little editing done.  I’m not sure what is happening with the person who wanted me to do a full-scale copy-edit of the book.  I sent the first 3 chapters I’d finished reviewing only to find that the writer had decided to rewrite those chapters and most of the book as well, and that most of my edits no longer applied.

At the time I was trying to take an online editing course and felt really annoyed that I’d effectively wasted the time I had on the edits.  I asked this writer to wait until the book was closer to submission before sending it to me again.  Am I wrong to feel some relief that I’ve not heard back yet?

Exercise

That’s not to the level I’d like.  I need a bit more of a willpower boost–or at least a bit more accountability.  The good thing about having an exercise partner is that shared responsibility of being there for someone on top of being there for myself.  As someone who has lived my life feeling “I don’t deserve X”, I’ve almost never felt missed doing something if I felt I had to do it for someone else..

Social Media, Blogging, and other stuff

I’m trying to involve myself in more meaningful online activities as opposed to games.  I don’t really enjoy the format of most sites, even if I’ve (slightly) increased my presence on Google+ and spent a bit more time commenting on Facebook and Twitter.   As a result my email has suffered, and we won’t talk about my phone use…  I haven’t gotten to hanging up on people who call, but I’m close.

On the other hand, piano practice is improving.  I’m afraid I may never get the full dexterity of my left hand back the way I used to have it before the break.  Things always feel a bit like they are asleep there now.  They move, they do what I want, but it always feels like an effort.  I think I may pick up the guitar and try working with that to help train the muscles again.  Not looking forward to rebuilding my callouses…

It’s a start though.  Changing one’s self is harder work than just slaving away at the same old things.

Don’t you agree?

 

 

DO something, even if it is WRONG

There is no smell more disgusting and obnoxious than the smell of microwaved chicken wings.  Ugh!  pain to the nose, and my whole house smells like it now because my husband just threw in a pack of T.G.I.Friday’s Buffalo wings.  Vile.  Cannot stand it.  And I love Buffalo wings. Continue reading