Category: Life as I know it

5 ways to be kind while supporting a cause

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

“People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do.”  – Isaac Asimov

I stumbled upon this quote on http://www.brainyquote.com recently and the statement could well describe my social media feed, especially since October. It seems that everyone is either an expert on a topic or a misguided fool. But here’s the problem – pick an issue, any issue, the what doesn’t matter. Now pick a side. I know people there. Now think of the opposite side of the issue. I know people there too. Smart people. Good people.

I am also related to a few of them. A fact that has caused me some degree of angst, particularly as the year approaches the holiday season. I would rather enjoy my turkey dinner than be caught in the middle of a debate on xyz. Therefore I’ve tried to remain social-media-neutral throughout it all, choosing to “like” pictures of puppies or children at play and instead of click-bait articles designed to impassionate and/or enrage.

I’ve chosen instead for my actions offline to speak louder than my posts. I’ve chosen to be kind and here are just a few ways you can too.

  1. Give, but give smart

There are as many charities out there, but unfortunately, not all are as giving to the causes they are expected to champion as others. It is important to do your homework to ensure that your hard-earned money has the best chance of reaching those intended. In the US, you can start your research at http://www.charitynavigator.org/

2. Volunteer your time

If your funds are as tight as mine are, especially at this time of year, you can give the gift of your time. Don’t know where to get started? Well, there are groups out there designed to match you with opportunities too, such as http://www.volunteermatch.org/. A quick search at the time of writing this connected me to over 390 opportunities in my area alone.

3. Go out to eat

If kindness and compassion go hand in hand, the best way to understand people who aren’t like you is to occasionally leave home or venture outside your normal social circle. While there are plenty of articles out there such as 10 ways to experience another culture when traveling abroad or 5 ways culture shock is good for you which touch on how to experience other cultures abroad, it can be just as beneficial to try something new closer to home. There is much to be learned about people who might not share your views or have had other life experiences simply by visiting another state/province, county, city, or neighborhood and sharing a meal.

4. Hold the door

I mean this both literally and figuratively. If you see a person in need, struggling to get by, stop and extend your hand. Give the tired your seat. Smile at a stranger. Say thank you and say it often. You don’t have to spend a dime, give up a weekend, or go out of your comfort zone in order to treat another person how you’d like to be treated.

5. Agree to disagree

This one can be the hardest. At a certain point, you will just have to accept that when given the same set of facts, there are those who arrive at a different conclusion. Stand firm if it is something you believe in, but agree to disagree, and repeat steps 1 – 4. Recognize no one’s journey through life is the same and no dinner quite complete without a couple of sides. Understanding this fundamental truth is the heart of compassion and the greatest, and sometimes the only, kindness you can offer.

 

kindnessquotes

 

 

 

How one mysterious sighting opened my mind to the impossible

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

mysterysightLeftover debris from summer storms accumulated in a pile in our yard, larger this year than most. Outside temperatures finally cooled to the point one can actually stand to turn the air conditioning off. Both were signs that it is truly Fall once more. My boys, including the biggest kid of them all, eagerly piled as many limbs and dried leaves as they could in our fire pit and soon the evening was lit by its merry blaze.

The activity caught the eye of Her Royal Highness. Leaving the couch she has assumed as her throne, she padded her way to the edge of the fire ring. The boys threw another pine cone or two on the pile, sending ash and embers in the air. Her Royal Highness was not impressed with this display and returned post-haste to a more cushioned viewing distance. It was one of those times I was reminded how very different she is from our late dog.

He was much more possessive of the great back doors than she ever has been. An errant snap of a branch or roar from a car in the distance would have sent him running outside with his hackles at full attention. He’d hold his ground in the middle of the yard and bark at least a half a dozen times before running along the length of the fencing to ensure that the perimeter remained secure. Only then would he return to our side with a huff, puff, and or snort.

Could we not sense the unseen danger? He would ask without words, our fireside evenings anything but relaxing. There could be squirrels out there, cats, or even worse, deer! Eventually, his doggy paranoia would grow too much and with another huff, snort, and ruff, he’d trot off for another inspection of the parameter.

dog watching out window
My dog took our protection seriously. When he wasn’t in the yard, we often found him on guard at the window.

Shortly after he passed, I remember staring into the fire afterward, listening to its pops and crackles, and thinking to myself how quiet the evening was without him. Motion caught my eye, a shadow against our fence. The shadow moved as the fire blazed, and I swear it was dog shaped. As quickly as I noticed it, the shadow shifted across the fence as if my dog running his defense of our perimeter one last time.

I know the light can play tricks on you and eyes can sometimes make something out of nothing, especially if there is something they really want to see, but this time of year I can’t help but wonder if there may be truth to some of the stories about things that go bump in the night. And maybe, just maybe, that’s not a bad thing. I’ve never seen that shadow again, nor heard a bark from a dog that was not there, but it was enough to make me ask what if and think about other impossible things.

I am a huge fan of paranormal stories in general, particularly so, this time of year. The thought that there may yet be mysteries out there for us to discover thrills me.

Two quotes, attributed to Albert Einstein resonate with me:

“The important thing is not to stop questioning; curiosity has its own reason for existing.”

“Once you stop learning, you start dying.”

As much as I miss my late big sweetie, I am in no hurry to learn the answer to the question of whether or not there is life after death beyond what I take on faith. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other mysteries to ponder or other discoveries out there to make.

Imagine if Einstein or other researchers or scientists had stopped their work just because everyone told them the questions weren’t worth asking, or the task, impossible to perform. This is why it is so important to maintain an open mind, to accept that there are things we do not know, and to challenge the things we think we do. While some ideas may prove to never be anything more than a good fireside tale, there remains plenty out there for humanity to discover if we are only willing to consider the impossible.

Related Reading

If you have a spooky story of your own to share or would like to share a bit of news that no one else thought possible, feel free to either submit it or the link in the comments section.

 

No critter wants that litter, so best be on your way

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it
Litter sign
Image by Wade Tregaskis, courtesy of Flickr.com

I was standing outside, miles from home, with a trash bag in hand. A liquid of questionable make-up was running down my ankle from where I’d accidently brushed a leaky corner of the bag with my leg. It was a perfect morning.

My hubby, a regular member of the local Rotary Club had volunteered us all for a service project on Saturday. All of us. Even her Royal Highness. Our task was to go to a nearby park and walk the trail, scooping up litter along the way. When we arrived, the volunteer coordinator gave my boys a grabbing tool, a pair of gloves, and draped an adult sized fluorescent yellow vest labeled Park Volunteer vest over Kiddo’s shoulders. Then we’d gotten to work.

Kiddo decided it was a contest. Little did the other volunteers know, but they were now locked into a race against the clock to gather the most amount of garbage. It was a contest Kiddo was determined to win. The boy ran down hills, jumped into the brush, and time after time returned with a bottle, can, or cigarette butt clenched in his grabbing tool’s claws as proudly as if the trash were trophy.

Other park visitors were quick to notice, coming over to thank my son for his service. I beamed with every compliment they bestowed upon my son as I clutched our trash bag, now made heavy through his efforts.

Another couple from the club met us on the path. They’d finished inspecting the next section and it was time to head back. We turned to follow with Kiddo still on the lookout for any scrap that might have been missed. LT, more eager than his brother to call it a morning, begged his father to carry him the rest of the way. In order to shield our ears from the full assault of preschool cries, Lamont scooped LT up, placing him on his shoulders while I took charge of holding her Royal Highnesses leash in one hand and the trash bag in the other.

The path narrowed as we rounded the corner to the final bit of stairs leading to the park’s exit and a group of women approached us. I glanced at Kiddo, once again off the path in search of loose trash, as I anticipated the comments that would surely come.

A woman screamed.

Not the reaction I was expecting. I looked over. I realized then I’d let the lead grow too long and in that split second of inattention, Her Royal Highness had decided to make new friends.

The woman screamed again, clearly not interested in Her Royal Highness’ friendship. The group parted and I saw they too had a dog in tow. Only her dog was not idly sniffing around as if she was annexing the grounds as was mine. Hers was on its hind legs as its owner tried to yank its leash up to heaven. The dog barked frantically, mirroring the emotions of its owner. I pulled Her Royal Highness back to my side as soon as I realized what happened. Her Royal Highness, bored by the exchange, came at once without complaint.

So… almost a perfect morning.

I started to head back toward the stairs, but the other dog’s owner wasn’t yet satisfied. Turning she shouted a number of things at me and mine not caring at all who heard her spew, including my children.

I could have returned her righteous anger with my own. The encounter was an unwelcome surprise to us both. I hadn’t seen her dog. Didn’t she see my children? We were doing our part to make the park better, for people like her to enjoy. If anything she should be the one apologizing to them if not to me for her extended reaction.

I could have, but I didn’t say any of those things. I didn’t say anything at all. Instead, I simply looked at the stairs in front of me and decided my enjoyment of the morning would not be ruined by a passing moment. I’d reach the top, dispose of my bag, and be on my way.

I know the bags of mental negativity are far less easy to get rid off once you let them weigh you down. I could see all to clearly their impact on her in her body language as she continued down the path and could hear how she still simmered over my lack of reaction to her words or actions as the distance between us increased. I knew I didn’t want that kind of energy.

She’d tried her best to hand her bags of negativity to me. To spread her anger like the litter we’d collected, but I hadn’t let her. I’d resisted taking anything more than this little scrap for the purpose of telling a story. After all, my hands were full. I realized then I felt sorry for her. Not sorry enough to share her burden, but sorry she wouldn’t have the kind of day I’d had, even if it there had been a scattering of litter along the way.

I felt a cool drip on my leg, reminding me of the mystery liquid, best left unexamined and my need to get home and take a long shower. It was definitely time to make our exit. Kiddo’s face flashed another smile before shouting he’d collected another wrapper. At the top of the stairs, Kiddo announced to the volunteer coordinator he was the day’s winner.

I smiled. He was a winner for sure, but it would seem, I’d won too.

Temptation makes victory taste ever more sweet

by Allie P., posted in Book Stuff and Publishing News, Life as I know it

If I take this statue will a giant round boulder come out and try to crush me?

There they lay, within reach, and yet to do so was entirely forbidden. It would be so easy, I told myself. All I had to do was open up one of kiddo’s packaged snacks from the basket in the pantry and chew. All those delicious salty treats were mine for the taking. But I’d made a promise to myself to limit my carb intake, particularly over the next thirty days, as the scale had taken issue with my summer beach excesses.

“She’d started taking up a lot of bad habits”, I imagined its snide electronic voice justifying itself to my toothbrush and my towel as they discussed my morning routine. “You both just help her stay hygienic. I, however, am helping her make better lifestyle choices.” I am sure both towel and brush would roll their eyes if they had them, but that awful scale had a point. I had enjoyed my summer a wee bit too much and it was starting to show.

You know what the secret to weight loss is? Don’t eat much.” – Simon Cowell
(Gee thanks, Simon)

It came to a head one Tuesday evening. There, on the table, were all the fixings for tacos which had become our weekly staple since the Lego Movie first introduced the children to the concept of Taco Tuesday. A pair of tortillas waited for me to add lettuce, beef, and cheese, with a dollop of yogurt just as I had done the Tuesday before and the Tuesday before that.

“After today I am going to limit my sugar and bread for awhile,” I announced to the hubby. “At least for the next thirty days.” Lamont looked at his own plate and agreed to support me by doing the same. We both were in the mood to change up the dietary cycle. We wouldn’t cut it out altogether, we agreed, as that was next to impossible seeing as both ingredients were hidden in way too much. To avoid them altogether would involve *gasp* actually reading labels. But we would try not to intentionally consume either.

I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t easy. I’d gotten into a habit of having a bit of ice cream in the evening after tucking the boys in their beds. A reward for successfully surviving another day. Suddenly I was out my reward. The cravings started to chip away at my resolve.

“Lead us not into temptation. Just tell us where it is; we’ll find it.” – Sam Levenson

Brilliantly (at least in our opinion), we decided to make our own dessert. We had plenty of plain greek yogurt in the fridge. Add a few berries and some honey and poof. Instant ice cream substitute. We even added a little cinnamon to give it a bit more pizzaz!

And other meal times took on a bit more excitement as we managed to break away from our weekly routine, replacing the stand-bys with things like zucchini pasta or eggs poached inside an avocado. This whole “sacrifice” wasn’t one.

Then my mom’s birthday came along with a visit by my sister. After a celebratory dinner, the smell of a fruit pie tempted my nose. A bit more of my resolve chipped away. But still, I remained strong, empowered by what I had accomplished before. There was nothing to this goal. Or so I thought until I entered the final days of my self-imposed thirty-day challenge.

Then the air began to change. Fall has arrived and with it will be the assault on my senses that is pumpkin spice. I do so love the smell of Fall. If you listen very carefully, you might yet hear the sound of my scale crying. If my resolve started out as a mighty oak tree, it is now only a splinter of its former self.

“What makes resisting temptation difficult for many people is they don’t want to discourage it completely.” Franklin P. Jones

A friend of mine suggested I read Stephen Pressfield’s book The War of Art in which the author theorizes that our brains are somehow wired to resist completing goals. While I haven’t yet read the book (though fully intend to) I can’t help thinking he might be on to something. I was so close to writing End of Book Two in this current draft, and yet my characters keep drawing out the action. No matter how much I wrote, there was still more to do. More to say.

It was so very tempting to simply type THE END before the story is ready and short circuit the process. And if I did? Would it really matter? This is not my final draft. I’ll be rewriting an editing next. I could grab those chips as well. One small bag on day 29 isn’t going to make a difference in the scheme of things. Who would know?

I would.

And so, while my resolve may only be a splinter, that splinter wedged itself deeply under my skin. I can’t ignore it. I can’t make a move without feeling its pain.

And so, I stood fast over these final few days. What’s a couple hundred more words compared to the many I’ve written thus far? Certainly not enough to lose heart now. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote until the words END OF BOOK TWO were no longer words in my head but words on a screen. Yes. You read that right. This draft is finished. Now on to round two.

I pull back from the pantry and fixed a salad instead. It might not taste quite as good to my sugar biased tastes, but victory continues to be more satisfying.

As a reminder, I will be on the air Friday, September 23rd at 6pm Eastern time. The link to follow is http://www.blogtalkradio.com/writestream/2016/09/23/the-speculative-fiction-cantina-with-madeleine-holly-rosing-and-allie-potts

How to make an author panic in 3 easy steps

by Allie P., posted in Book Stuff and Publishing News, General Tips and Tricks, Indie book promotion, Life as I know it, Life Hacks

A friend posted a picture of her son, roughly Kiddo’s age, riding a bike, which while cute, was more notable by the fact that the child’s training wheels were off. Seeing the picture, I’d asked Kiddo if he’d like to give it a try too.

“Just imagine – you’ll be able to go biking with the big kids. When you don’t have training wheels, you could even go to the park by yourself or even to Nana’s. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Lamont and I wheeled the bike out. After strapped Kiddo’s helmet on tight, Lamont and I took turns holding Kiddo’s bike upright as our son wavered and wobbled down the side of the street. Still, no matter what we said, or how we cheered, it was clear that Kiddo’s confidence wasn’t quite there. Lamont tried the old parent stand-by. Running behind Kiddo, he simply let go.

Kiddo wasn’t fooled for an instant. Crash. Scrape. “How could you!”

“It’s important you keep trying,” we’d told him, hoisting the bike back up. To give him credit, he did. Several more times. But no matter how hard we tried, gravity (and more than a little fear) continued to knock him down.

“Try pedaling faster,” we’d suggest loudly. “Try actually steering…” we’d mutter more to ourselves.

Flustered, we eventually decided we’d tried long enough. “Most people don’t get it right on the first day,” I told Kiddo. We’d keep trying, a few minutes a day. He’d get the hang of it in no time.

We didn’t. He didn’t. The weather got hot. The dog needed walking. There were any number of excuses that cropped up. Finally, we simply reattached the training wheels. The timing simply wasn’t right.

It is easy to make excuses. But the weather has begun to cool. Those excuses are now running out. It is time for Kiddo to get back on his bike. Which brings me to the other subject of this post.

How to make an author panic in three easy steps.

  1. Tell them you’ve bought their book. Okay, technically step one is usually enough to send me into cold sweats, but then again, just because they’ve bought it, doesn’t mean they’ve read it. So…
  2. Recommend they look into marketing techniques such as podcasts. All the cool authors are doing it
  3. Encourage them to contact hosts. It’s so easy! Just follow their instructions.

There are those in the writing world with far more years of experience under their belts, who recommend not worrying much about book promotion until you have at least three if not five books to your name. In theory, this method allows you to have a greater catalog ready to offer readers when promotion efforts hook new readers. One book at a discount could turn into multiple book sales by return readers.

Take the Apple for example. Sure, Apple spends most of its time promoting the iPhone, but that is only one of their products. Once they’ve gotten you hooked on the device, you are more inclined to purchase accessories or even less advertised gadgets. The same principle applies to books. Promotion takes a lot of work. You want to ensure you have the best return possible.

This was also a convenient strategy for me. I accepted I would not be an overnight success. I dare say I embraced it. I felt justified not worrying about marketing beyond the occasional giveaway or occasional guest piece as I worked away on the next project.

Unfortunately, as I neared the final pages of this draft it occurred to me that I will have three books to my name in the coming months. Which means it is time for the marketing training wheels to come off. In a fit of insanity, masquerading as bravery, I researched blog and radio hosts who might be interested in discussing a book like mine. I figured, what’s the worst that could happen?

Within days I received a message back. They’d love to have me on their show. My heart began to race as the reality of what I’d done began to sink in. I’d have to talk to people I’d never met. Publicly! I read further. In September. Phew! September was weeks away. My breathing calmed. I’d have plenty of time to get myself mentally prepare by then.

Only… the weather is beginning to cool. School has resumed. It is already mid-September and my show is coming up in one week. September 23rd at 6pm Eastern time to be exact.

So now I have one week to calm my nerves. It’s not like this is your first guest appearance, Allie. One week to practice my selected reading. Wait. What? One week to ponder why writing, which traditionally is such an introverted activity, requires so much extroverted follow-up. Really. Why? And one week to remind myself of reasons I am doing this. I want to be able to ride with the big kids one day as much as I want to set an example for my sons. But also, just as importantly, I am doing this because I’m proud of what I’ve done.

It is time to dust off the virtual helmet and restock the band aids. So wish me luck. Here I go.