The Writing Garden

My homemade ice skating Rink! & the Stomach flu from Mordor

2012-01-29T13:53:00.000-08:00

Hiya all!

Greetings from the land of upset stomachs and pale faces.

The stomach flu from the evil lands of Mordor has found it's way into our land, infecting the entire community with sudden nausea, stomach cramping, and the eventual heaving into the toilet...and other things....

My whole family got the flu pretty much at the same time. (not fun) Next, my sister who's pregnant, and her fam got it. And now I hear pretty much everybody in our neighborhood has it. I promise it wasn't our family who gave it to everybody else. I'm thinking the bug came down from the sky---from the evil gremlins. Seriously.

My sister and I were talking about this, this strange phenomena, how everybody has this stomach attaching flu---and how it's kind of a nice feeling to know that your neighbor is feeling just as gross, and miserable as you are, probably hanging out near the bathroom, feeling green. It brings you together even if you aren't in the same house. It makes you feel a together sort of miserable.

Someone from another county should set up shop and sell herbal peppermint tea, and soothing broth to all the sick and afflicted. They'd make a killing.

Ah, togetherness in misery. How perfectly horrid. And comforting. Yes. I know. I'm sometimes not so nice. Sometimes I'm just like you. *Sorry* Perhaps, "You" whoever you are, are quite angelic, and saintly. That's nice. Perhaps you can pray for me and the entire world around me who has entered into the world of pukage and trots.

Please excuse the graphicness. Sometimes life is thus, and it can't be described in any less crude terms.

Take for instance....never mind. I'll just be quiet. Hmmm... Can you tell that I've been living off Jello? Oh it's so nice and Yummy. Until you eat it for every meal for two or three days. Then it gets watery and gross in the fridge, and your brain starts to resemble it. All jiggly and weird.

I did eat ice cream today. My mom didn't quite approve. But what the heck. It tasted so good. Plus I tried some peanut M&M's last night. They were quite tasty---going down. However, I don't think they were quite accepted, as a friend, because my stomach was burbling all night.

As for the ice cream, it seems that it has been accepted as food, and I might try it again sometime.
Oh yeah, did I mention, that this stomach bug makes you hungry? And the things that taste the best are sugar and chocolate. Yum.

I can tell now that you are looking at me (or my words) with raised brow and a frown. Naughty.
Perhaps. But my theory is, if your going throw it up, might as well have something worth tasting twice.

*Once again* I am humbly sorry for my words. But it can't be helped. My fingers are inseparably connected to my brain, and my brain says, "the truth" so it is typed.

Wow. You're probably wondering when I'm going to explain the above pictures of my wonderful ice skating rink that was bought with blood, tears, ice and sweat. It was a big project, much bigger than it had to be because I was going to make it really "Big!"
Note that I said was. Because it isn't as big as I wanted it to be.

Where did I get this quirky of an idea to build my own rink? Well, ever since I was little I've wanted a ice pond in our back yard. But I was never big enough to build one myself. Well, I'm much more stronger than when I was little, and this year, the river didn't freeze because it had so much water going through it, so I had double the motivation to figure out how to make a rink.

Also, I wanted to surprise my sister when she came home for Christmas from collage. And all my nieces and nephews would be sure to enjoy it.

So I went to the all knowing "Google" and I searched, how to make a homemade ice skating rink.
This led me to some youtube videos, and the youtube videos led me to action.

To make it sweet and simple, for those of you who do not want to read my lengthy post below telling of the complicated way I made the rink, I shall simplify and say thus---- all you really need to make a rink is a medium flat level ground surface.
Next, you need some boards of the same height and thickness to line your rink.
The youtube people bought some special boards. I however wanted to make a rink with little expense possible. I used railroad ties.

Next you need some thick, long, wide, tarp to cover your rink area, and the edge of the boards, creating space for the water to reside. (just type in ice skating rink tarp in google) and order what size you want. Then you need some water, and then you need it to be cold. It's ooober simple. Ta da. There's your rink. Youtube it if you have more questions.

But I made it complicated. I figured I had most of the things I needed to make a rink. Minus the good tarps. I figured I'd buy some ice skating rink tarp, but my sis said my dad had some old ones we could use. So we went the old tarp rout.
Bad idea. Don't do it. Just don't.

Thus my story begins.
I cleared an area behind our corral, and tried smoothing the frozen ground where it wasn't level, and believe me, frozen ground doesn't move very well, even if you ask it nicely.

After that, I scouted around our yard for some long, thick boards. This took me pretty much the whole first half of the day. When I'd finished making the edges of the rink, I felt pretty proud of myself. I had been pretty creative in my finding materials to line the edge of the rink. I, with my she-woman abilities hauled a humongous long tree limb to line one side of the rink. I also used a great big corral board for another side, and I then used some other odds and ends of boards, and old railroad ties for the rest.

Then, my sister, and mom trekked out into the falling snow to my dad's old farm place, where we picked up some bigger than life tarps that used to cover the hay. I'm not joking when I say that those were heavy tarps, full of mold, and mice nests, and dirt. It was like they had become apart of the ground. Ugg. All three of us hefted the tarp into the back of our truck and brought it home. Once we got it all out of the truck, we realized that it was way too long, and not wide enough. Plus there were holes everywhere in it.

My sis was tired, so me and my mom decided to go back and get another one of the old tarps.
The tarp we selected was trapped in some weeds, and it was only by sheer will power and crazyness that we were able to get it up and into that truck. Ugg. That tarp smelled the worst of all. Mice smell is by no means a good smell. But on the other hand, if a no-good jerk guys wore 'stale mice cologne' to keep the good girls away, perhaps it would be of use after all.

Back to the story. So there we were, my mom driving the truck, and me sitting in the next seat dusting myself off. It was kind of funny because just as my mom got to the main road, she put her foot to the gas pedal, and kind of forgot we had a tarp in the back of the truck.
No sooner than we'd sped up, then the tarp went a galumphing, with fluttery style, out into the middle of the road in a messy, huge pile.

She stopped the truck, and we both looked at the tarp in the road with foreboding eyes.
We were tired, cold, and dirty. If we didn't get that huge tarp out of the road, people driving would find us a menace.

My mom and I both heaved that heavy tarp up into that truck faster than was humanly possible. Once we got the tarp into the truck, I sat on top of it. "I'm staying back here, and making sure it stays put," I told my mom.

She was worried that I'd end up an icicle, if I stayed in the back while she was driving. I was worried that I would, too. But I stayed planted firmly on top of the tarp. There was no way I would chance it falling out into the road again.
So, after cautioning my mom to drive slowly, I braced myself for cold winds.
And it was cold...brrrr....
I found that as long as I kept my head facing back, it wasn't nearly half as cold as it would have been, had I been facing the wind.
When we neared the railroad tracks I was worried that my mom would forget and drive over them much too fast. I had visions of the tarp flying out, and me wadded up in it, then being truck by another car. But luckily, we all ended up at home, safe, and sound.

Once we got the second old tarp, and laid it out next to the other tarp, we realized that we were kind of stupid. Both tarps were very flawed, and full of holes. Not only that, both weren't nearly big enough to cover the frame I had created with my boards.

What did I do? Well, I scouted around for some of our nice camping tarps, and placed them over the long stretch of ground that was still bare. But they were still not long enough to cover the empty spaces. And then there was the problem of the holes.

After deliberating for a short time, we decided that perhaps instead of spending all the time patching the holes with liquid nails, (a tough kind of glue that works in cold weather) we'd go to the feed store and buy a big tarp to cover the whole frame, and the old tarps would just be the ground work for the "real" tarp.

The tarp at the feed store was huge, silvery, and light as a feather. It cost us about 50-60 bucks.
I could have ordered a "real" ice tarp for about 80 bucks. But I wanted to build the rink before Christmas, so I we didn't want to wait, and we bought it anyway.

But we must have measured wrong because the new tarp still didn't cover the whole frame. It only covered about half of the frame. Erk. I was mad. But we decided to make the best of what we had. Our idea was to glue pieces of plastic to the old and new tarps, hemming them tightly together like a patchwork quilt. Then we'd patch up the holes in old tarps that were still showing. Then we'd finally be done.

Ha, ha.

Thus began the long and miserable journey of buying liquid nails and gluing up holes, and patching the tarps together. We tried filling up the rink many times, only to discover a new place we needed to glue. It seemed that the water went everywhere except where it needed to be. We were building up a river ice around the rink instead of in it. It was so frustrating.

When we ran out of glue, I tried duck tape, (stuff that's supposed to hold the world together.) But it failed miserably. It wouldn't stick to the cold tarp. Ug. So again I tried. I went out into the cold world with gorilla tape--the toughest tape in the world, so it says.

There was no way I was going to let this ice skating rink get the better of me.
The tape sorta stuck. But snow was starting to fall, and it made the tarp all slippery and wet. Plus huge hunks of ice stuck were to the bottom of the tarp where I needed to work. So my sister helped heave piles of ice away from the tarp so I could work.

Snow started falling in big puffy flakes round me. I appreciated the beauty of the snow, but it was making it impossible for the tape to stick. Frozen, but still unbeaten, I ran to the house, grabbed a pile of towels, and an umbrella. Then I wiped the part of the tarp down that I needed to tape, with a towel, and got it as dry as I could (all the while I prayed over that rink, and over that gorilla tape so it would stick)
And guess what? It did. Gorilla tape works!

However, that was not the end. I still needed to glue part of the tarp in another place, where the tape could ever work. So, later that evening, I went out with what? Gorilla glue, because we had ran out of liquid nails, and I glued the tarp. It was finished. I was done right?
Wrong.

The gorilla tape held up over the night, but the glue turned into frost and was pretty much the worlds worst glue in such cold weather.

My sister purchased another bottle of liquid nails and we glued that part of the tarp again.

Da da!

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, that I had to replace all most of the boards lining the rink with heavy, long railroad ties---because they are all about the same size and work much better than weird sizes of wood.

Excited, and with Christmas only a couple days away, we started filling the rink up with water. It was too good to be true. We were done.

For a while everything looked good.

Then disaster struck. Water started leaking around all the parts of the tarp we had glued.
ERRK How had this happened. We had summarized that we had glued the tarps together pretty tightly. What had we done wrong?
I'm not sure.

Frustrated beyond words, sister my and I started shoveling dirt around the parts of the rink that were leaking. Pretty smart. Not.
It just started leaking everywhere else.

We were still undefeated! In the back of my mind I had had a back up plan, if the big rink did not work, we would make it half as big and just work with the good tarp.

So we did.

And it worked.

Ha.

It was so easy, it was kind of painful.

Why had we gone through so much woe and sorrow.

The hard part was getting the ice and water out of our old tarps, and moving the boards to the desired smaller size. It was wet, and muddy. But we did it.
And it was nice.

So my word of advice to potential ice skating rink builders, go buy a nice NEW big tarp and you'll be glad you did. All in all, with all the glue, and tape we used, we could have bought a really big tarp. It would have been much easier.

Oh yeah, and make sure you smooth out the dirt to level before you build it, if not you'll have to fill the rink pretty full before you it's level. And one more thing, if you buy a new tarp, make sure it's not gray and shiny. It reflects light and makes the edges of the ice melt faster. Buy clear thick tarp.

I hope this super long post doesn't discourage you from building your own rink. It would have taken me a lot less time had I not been so impatient, and so very thrifty. Not.

All you really need are boards, and a tarp and some water. Even after all my trouble, I'm still amazed that our family didn't think of this idea sooner. It's a lot of fun! I'm thinking that next year, I'm going to make my really big rink (and buy a big tarp)

Funny thing is, I was in such a hurry to make the rink so my sister could skate on it when she got home from collage, but she couldn't skate on it anyway, because she got her toenail removed from an ingrown nail. Such a pity. Oh yeah, and it was pretty warm on Christmas. So the water didn't freeze until a couple weeks after we built the rink. But when the water did freeze, It was nice. And when nieces and nephews skated on it, I felt the rewards of my labors. It was really worth it.

So if your venturing forth braving some new idea, just remember that it's all worth it in the end, even if it's a lot of hard work.
And if it doesn't work, it's okay.
You'll get it. And if you don't. You don't.
But you'll learn.
Period.

Three Funerals, and a smashed Dog

2012-01-09T16:11:00.000-08:00

Wow. It's been a whole year, well about three months since I last posted on here.
I'm not sure how many people read this quirky blog, but for those of you who do, I apologize.

Life happens. And in those past three months, life did happen. Both life and death.
With the birth of my new fantasy book, so much has happened. So much that it's hard to put everything down into words.

Not too long ago, my Grandpa Larsen fell down and broke his hip. Shortly after his hip operation, he passed away. He was a great man, a great father to my mother, and a great grandpa. He was there for my mom, and my family, when we needed it most. He will be missed!

Then about two weeks after that, My Grandma Skeem fell down, and she too broke her hip--- had an operation, and was sent to the same room that my Grandpa was in before he died. I thought it very uncanny.

But unlike my grandpa, my grandma was then sent home to the hospital near my home. My sister and I got to sing to her and visit with her, and I thought that perhaps she might recover.
However the day after we sang to her, she went to heaven.
She too will be greatly missed. She was my mentor in all things flowers. She and I spent many happy summer hours gardening in her flower patch. It was there we talked about life, and people, and what kinds of flowers and people were best.

Note to anybody with grandparents. Don't send them to the hospital to get operated on if they break their hip, unless you feel it absolutely necessary. I think the percentage of old people who get their hips operated on and then die, is very high.
Plus, my brother in law's grandma, who lives in Chili, broke her hip---because she couldn't afford an operation, she was put in a wheelchair instead, and she's doing fine. She's alive, and a-okay. I think the pain medicine they put old people on for the operation is too strong, and it kills their hearts or something. I'm no doctor. But I'm just sayin...
Sorry. Got sidtracked.

It's weird, this year my sister and I have sung at three of our relatives funerals. First my aunt Connie, at the beginning of the year, and then both my grandparents.

Such are the moments in time. Here one moment, gone the next. It reminds me to cherish the moments we have, and to really live life, and to love the people in it.
For we really don't know when God will call us home.

Then, not long after my grandma passed away, a couple weeks before Christmas, our family's dog, Anne, my pal/buddy, protector--- got smashed by a car.
What really hurt was the fact that I just let her off her chain. I had the feeling to let her sleep in the back room for the night. But I didn't. Thus some part of me feels the painful regret of not following that small voice, and having to live with the consequences.

Sometimes life does seem so not cool. Sometimes it seems really crappy. So to all of you who are having crappy times, who are going through sickness, heartache, loss, heartbreak, or all the above. I sympathize. When stuff like that happens, you really don't want anyone telling you it's going to be okay.
You just want to turn off the lights, pull the covers over your head, cry and feel miserable.

So that's what I did. And after awhile I didn't feel so crappy.
As of today, I feel happy. It doesn't mean I don't miss those who have passed. No. I miss them a lot. But it does remind me to hold on to life. It reminds me to wake up. It reminds me that only this moment, this now, this second is all we really have, and that we should take that moment, and the people in that moment, and make it count!
Take a min to watch this video. It's really good.

It says it all.
Thanks for reading.
Steph

P.S.
During the past months I've done so many interesting projects that I'd like to share with you all. I was going to put them all here in one blog post. But I think it would be too crowded. So I decided instead of 'blogging' you down in one huge blog post, (I like my pun) I'll just post one project at a time. Next post: My homemade ice skating rink.
So stay tuned. : )

Protect your Artist city

2011-10-06T10:09:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to send out a little thank you note to all those who've helped me in my writing dreams. You are awesome! I've decided that no matter what it is that you want to do. Do it. If you have a passion for something, don't let self doubt, or fear of failure hold you back.

I've noticed that, more often than not, we teach kids, that the results, or the 'Golden eggs' are what we are after. Not the process or the journey. We create an environment of fear, and expectation for kids to learn in, instead of giving them an environment of acceptance, and the opportunity to feel safe, and accepted.
Without a sense of safety and acceptance, creativity cannot thrive.
Fear will hold people back from sharing their work. It will keep them from even trying.
On the other hand, if you create an environment where it's okay to make mistakes, kids and adults will thrive, experiment and try. This is where all real success stems from.

If you are a teacher, or someone in authority, please remember it is your sacred duty and your job to create an environment of acceptance, and safety. Without it, real learning will cease to exist. You will instead have created a hazard zone where kids are trying to out do one another, to look better, not do better.

A real teacher, one that does not have their ego attached to the students performance, will create an environment where it is okay to not be perfect. Speaking from personal experience, I can honestly say that I do not thrive under pressure, especially when I know someone is leaning over my shoulder waiting for, "Magic to happen." Or where I can't mess up. And it's not okay.

I believe that in order for something to be good, it also has to have the flip side to it. It also has the choice not to be good.
Just as in food, if it cannot go bad, like a Twinkie, it can't really be good.
Most food that is good for you can, and does go bad.
So in art, or real learning, creating an environment of safety, you are saying it's okay to mess up. Just try. It's okay to sing off-key. Just sing. Use your voice.
You can work on technique when the time is right. Right now you just need to hear your own voice.

That is the teachers job. Not so much to be a critic, or someone who is drenching the children in her knowledge. The teacher is the one who must listen, gently nudge, love, and point the children in the right direction.

I believe that most people die with their music inside them because they were afraid to hear themselves sing. And that's really sad. God gave you a voice. Use it.

I remember in art class, I had a hard time concentrating because so many people were looking over my shoulder giving their advice. Most often than not, I'd take my canvas home, where I'd go to my room, alone, and spend the evening painting. The next day I'd and come back with much more progress than I had made in class. Home was where I got most of my work done. I'm not saying that you shouldn't do anything in public. But what I am saying is that it seems to me, that art needs a time be in the dark. A time to be apart. If you are starting a project where it might come under scrutiny, only let your closest, most trusted, gentile friends see it.

Great treasure needs protection. Build walls around those who would rip down your beautiful city. Only let those into your city who would see the beauty of the city, and help to build it up.

Even if what you do is flawed, do it anyway. Leave a legacy of following after what you love most. As writers we tend to worry about how our writing will be read. As singers we are worried how our music will be heard. As artist we are worried how our art will be viewed.

But worrying about how it will be received blocks our creative flow. Instead of writing, singing, dancing, painting, we fuss and fret over what other people think. Our egos are attached to the outcome instead of the process. Our egos wonder if what we do will generate income. Our egos wonder if people think what we are doing is acceptable.

Let EGO go. He's a green, hairy little monster that will eat your life up. He doesn't really care about what you do, as long as it appears nice.

For the longest time I thought that if I did anything, it would have to be perfect. But that's a lie.
Being an artist working in any medium means that it will be flawed. Art is an act of creating, of hit and miss, of seeing things differently. It is an earthy practice. It connects humanity to humanity. It says, "this is how I see something."

We are flawed. Yes. But that's what makes our art beautiful.
If perfection were what we were aiming for, we would be machines with built-in formulas to get exact results. The beauty would be gone.

Art is not exact.
Neither is music, or any other art form. It is an act of faith. We say, "look, do you see? I was here once. This made me happy."

We strive to tell a truth through what we see, a truth connects us to God, and to each other, and to remind us of the magic that is all around us, if we just take the time to look.
That is art. It's not a exact science. Perfection belongs to God. Yet he uses us, even in our imperfect state, to remind others, and ourselves that if we are open, we can be tools of creation, pointing back to him.

I came across this video---Above----a few months ago that says everything I've been thinking about going after your dreams. I was feeling impressed to share this video on here the past few days. What's weird, is this guy who the video is about, just died--I think. What he says is amazing, and so true. Without inspiring people like him, my books would still be just ideas. Thank you for teaching others to believe in the power of their dreams.

Book Release day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-09-30T09:18:00.000-07:00

!!!!!Book Release day!!!
I still have tons of ice cream coupons to give away. So if you haven't signed up for the online treasure hunt---that takes place at my website please do. For the rules and list of things you need to find go here: https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=253341754707094

And also a link to my website where you can get a copy of my book.

*Smiles*

http://www.wix.com/ivoryautumn/thequestoforionsbelt

P.S if you happen to like it---like I hope you will, please leave a review.

In honor of my book release, I'm posting a video I made this summer with my nieces and my sisters.

The video really doesn't have any thing to do with my book. But it kind of does, because without my fam, especially my supportive mom, my book would still be just an idea in my head. Also--a big thanks to my friends who believed in me.

Happy Birthday to my Book

2011-09-29T20:28:00.000-07:00

Hiya all,

Tomorrow's the big release day of my book. **********Happy dance************* fireworks and root beer floats, and celebration time.

If you haven't dropped me a note already, I can give you a discount code for my book. You being my followers and all. I'm writing this post a day early because I'm going to be busy, so I just wanted to drop in and let you see some teaser pics out of my book. I've kept them quite hidden until now. Well...I'm only letting you see a few. Just because.

Hope you have a fantastic day,
I am HAPPY!
I HOPE YOU ARE TOO!
If not, go do something you really love and give yourself some TLC. You deserve it.

So yeap.

Here's a few of the my drawings.

Very few people have seen them. So Be honored. Because you're special.

Ice cream sundae giveaway!

2011-09-24T17:42:00.000-07:00

Time
Friday, September 30 · 8:00am - 11:30pm
Location
Choclate Forest (Online)
Pop Rock Canyon RD
Levwood
Created By
Stephanie Skeem
More Info

Ivory's Having A Birthday Party for her book, that's coming out on 30 of September, and an Ice cream sundae giveaway!

And you're all invited. You can invite your friends as well. There's going to be games, treats, prizes, and best of all, a Treasure hunt!

I believe that all superior Birthday parties should have those things, otherwise it wouldn't be called a party at all. It would be called a Boring, or something like that.

Oh yes, and did I mention there will be ice cream? Yum, yum! Twiskers love Ice cream! And we Twiskers only like fun things in which we can play games, get prizes, and eat good food.

If you don't like having fun, and you don't want to have ice cream, or play fun games and win prices, I suggest you go eat brown beans, and frown at yourself in the mirror, whilst reading a VCR manual. That sounds perfectly dull.

But this party will be anything but. It will be ten times more fun than the last time you had ten times more fun.

Where is this party, and how do I get there? Here, online. You get there by following the directions. Duh.

When: The 30th of September. (An epic date of birth)

What time? Starts 8:00 a.m. and ends at 11:30 p.m. (No early birds, or worms)

Why come? Because it will be fun and require your Twiskerly detective skills. Not to mention the free Ice Cream sundaes that will be served to those who are very clever.

So here comes the fun part.

On the 30th of September, will begin a grand Treasure hunt.

I will list prizes first. Treasure hunt after.
The prizes for finding everything on the list below will be as follows:
Prizes

The first ten people to find and email me the correct answers on the list will receive a Free Burger King coupon for a Soft Serve Cup or Cone, and a 5 dollars off promotional code toward the purchase of Ivory's book. (Coolest of all!!!)

The next ten people to find and email the correct answers, will receive a Premium Burger king coupon for a Sundae, for just a $1 (M&M, Oreo, Double Brownie, and Peach Granola sundaes only)
and 4 dollars off promotional code toward the purchase of Ivory's book.
(Second coolest)

The next ten people to find and email me the correct answers will receive a burger king coupon for a Buy One Get One Free Soft Serve Cone or Sundae of equal or lesser value.
and 3 dollars off promotional code toward the purchase of Ivory's book.
(Third coolest)

The last ten people to find and email me the correct answers will receive a burger king coupon for a Free Sundae with purchase of a Value Meal (Chocolate Fudge, Caramel, and Strawberry sundaes only) 2 dollars off promotional code toward the purchase of Ivory's book
(Cooler)

Prizes for all who participate:
Because I'm nice, anybody who emails me---if they look like they tried, but still got the wrong answers will still receive 2 dollars off promotional code towards the purchase of Ivory's book
(And pretty cool, because nobody really loses)

The Twisker Treasure hunt list:
Email junesbugs@hotmail.com with the answers, and what in page you found it on. You can also send me an email via the website

Can you find:
1. A small, winged fairy
2.The words: Enter at your own Risk
3. An ugly spider on an orange flower
4. A flapping butterfly
5. An origami Swan
6. Three things Twiskers Hate
7.The last ingredient in Twisker Soup
8. What does the Fallen come to Devour? (Hint) Watch the book trailer on website)
9. A orange can that bubbles
10. What was the name of the boy who tried to beat up Andrew?

At this website: You will find all the answers.
http://www.wix.com/ivoryautumn/thequestoforionsbelt

The rules.

No cheating. No peaking until the 30th because it is very rude to cheat. Besides, cheaters will grow ugly, green pimples all over their noses, and very very long, hairy, whiskers all over their sad faces.
So there you are. Don't look so skeptical, Twiskers are painfully accurate when it comes to predicting the future.

The choice is yours.

Once again this is the website in which you will find all the answers. Hopefully I didn't make it too hard. I forget that Twiskers are much more clever than the average human people things.

http://www.wix.com/ivoryautumn/thequestoforionsbelt

Have fun. Play nice and most of all, remember to have fun!!!!

Email: junesbugs@hotmail.com

Mangoes are what built the Nation

2011-09-15T13:41:00.000-07:00

This is a super long post.
But I've neglected this blog for while, and missed it.

My book is very soon coming out. I've sent off for a proof copy. I hope that it passes the smell, taste, touch, test. Then it will be happy day for me! Celebrations will be in order.

To pre-celebrate I've posted a video of me hoop dancing. I've had people requesting a video. So here it is. There will be many more to come, if I can figure out this whole video making thing.

Oh yeah. You might want to turn off my very loud website music before you watch it. On the side of my blog.

Ahem. Hope you enjoy it. I've had so much fun with hooping. It's something that gives me a lot of joy.

So back to my ramblings.
So I've been reading a book, "The artist way" By Julia Cameron, with mark Bryan. I think I mentioned it before, but I read a chapter that really struck home for me, that I wanted to share. I really wanted to quote a whole page from the book, but I'm not sure if the copyright people would be happy about that. So I'll just paraphrase, she said that we say that our our faith, and trust is in God, but in reality it's not. It's in money, the dollar. Most of our actions stem from that belief.

"We are operating out of the toxic old idea that God's will for us and our will for us are at opposite ends of the table," says Juila. She went on to say that we really think that if we go after our dream, God will be frowning on us, if we do what we love. We believe that our dreams are something that have to be put on a far away cloud, only to be looked at when we aren't doing something "More important."

This chapter in Juila's book really struck home for me. I'm ashamed to admit, but I kind of believed that if I was enjoying myself, that maybe....I don't know, it must be doing something wrong. How ironic is that?

It seems, "And I say seems," because this is what I feel, that we live in a type of society, that holds up, and rewards the most worn down, miserable, workaholic, person who just doesn't have time for anything they love. We pat those types of people on the pack, and hold them up as the icon of what is best---what is ideal.

You've seen those types of blocked artist. People who work and work and work, and never do anything that they "Really" want to. Workaholics, people who are afraid to do what they love, because deep down they are afraid. Afraid of what? Disapproval, rejection, actually enjoying themselves? It seems like they would rather make excuses, and put the blame on something or someone, then take that leap of faith into the unknown where anything can happen.

If your path is charted up in front of you, and you see no bend in the road. It's the devils path.
He wanted it all planned out.
If you don't know everything your future holds, I'm thinking you're on a pretty good path.

What it really comes down to it. Do you believe that God, the most creative individual ever created, who blessed you with the talents gifts and abilities that you possess, has the power to help you use those gifts?

Do you think that God is limited by Money? Funny thought. But that's what it comes down to. If he is limited by money, then money is indeed powerful. If you believe he is more powerful than money, people, position, or any other thing, then your life has zero limitations.

Truth is, as the scripture goes, "Men are that they might have joy,"
I Believe that this scripture is true. And it applies to the now, more than any future date. I don't think God likes it when we put limitations on him, or our ability to create the life he intended for us. We must choose now what kind of life we want. And live it.

I've seen well meaning youth, and adults everywhere I go succumb to the dollar-god, bowing before it, and denying who they are, until they no longer know what brings them joy. It's sad.

Creativity is Gods work in action. If we are open, and sharp tools, God can use us to get his work done. Creativity is powerful, and endless.
People use the phrase, "You're so creative," in a sort of derogatory term. It's as if they are saying, wow you have a lot of time on your hands. You must be not really be "Working," or in other words, doing real work like them, and being miserable serving the dollar-god.

Funny thing is, creativity requires time. It requires a feeling of security and safety to blossom, and grow. It requires space. People are always saying, I'm so glad I'm so busy, because I would get into a lot of trouble if I wasn't busy all the time.

I beg to differ. I need space. I crave space. Space is what gives me time to evaluate where I'm going and why. Space allows me to be able to make mistakes and mess up without anyone pointing an accusing finger. Anything truly beautiful is framed by space. Music is only beautiful because of the space surrounding it. Same with the beautiful mountains surrounded by the blue sky.

Space is the canvas God uses to accomplish beautiful things. Space to think and ponder, and to dream is what gives meaning to our lives. Air, or space is what we breath to keep us alive.

Space is where all true creatives find the source of their creative flow.

A well meaning person told me, when I was about 14 years-old that, "that it was imprudent of me to choose writing or art as a career. Because there was no money in it."

I'm glad I didn't listen to that person.

Money should never decide what path you should take. God should. Period. And if you feel drawn to a certain path for no other reason than it helps you to keep on with that creative flow, then go for it.

There is something beautiful, freeing, and amazing about someone who is doing what they love. They don't need someone to approve of what they are doing. They already know it is right, because it resonates with a deep well of truth inside them. It is a path that, if you decide to go on it, leads onward, into new realms. Such paths will never have a little sign at the end, saying, "You have arrived," more like, you will follow a path, and meet with a little road signs saying, "go here, turn here, rest here, there is work still yet to be done---paths yet to be discovered, stories yet to be told, songs yet to be sung. Keep going.

But that is the way it is supposed to be.
To have arrived is to have died. There is no end to an artist. Only a new path, a new way of looking at something. There will always be something more to be created.

We must create because that is what our creator designed us for. So that is how you will know if something is right. If what you are doing stifles that desire to create, you will feel horrible inside. I know the feeling all too well. It's like someone is holding a knife to your throat. Many people will say, that if you plant "potatoes," you will somehow time to plant
"mangoes."

Maybe that's true for them. But not to me. I've lived long enough to see the product of people denying the law of the harvest. If you plant potatoes, you'll get more potatoes, and then you'll spent the bulk of your time planting potatoes, and resenting it, and secretly envying those frivolously happy mango planters.
Plant your mangoes now. I don't care what you're excuses are. Put your "mangoes" first on the list.

"Potatoes" come by default.

In the end, no body will care about how many potatoes you planted, or how hard you worked planting them. But they will care about the poems you left behind, the books, the music, the loving person you were, the love, the way you made them feel when they were around you. They will remember the mangoes. How do I know this?

Because it's the mangoes that make life sweet. It's what we keep in our history books. Mangoes built our nation. Mangoes are what created the light bulb, mangoes are what made anything worth anything in this world.

Nobody likes raw potatoes. Yuck. Potatoes, have lots of eyes. They grow in the ground, and they like dirt and lots of company.

But raw mangoes. Yum. They are good because that's the way God made them. They grow framed by space.

If God wanted you to plant potatoes, you would love planting potatoes. It's that simple.

As for me, I'm a mango planter. And I will always be a mango planter. And I will always tell other planters to plant the seeds that they love most. Love is power, desire, will, trust, faith, hope and action all welled up into one small word.

One small action done out of love will have more power for good than any one miserable planted potato.

Every seed, or action that you do will produce after it's kind. So whatever you do will produce after it's kind. Don't blame God for the life you have, instead go after the life you've always wanted, and show God that you have the faith to go after your dreams. Take faith filled action.

So in a word.

Life is too short to plant potatoes. Potatoes, can eat up your life.
Mangoes are what you were made for.

I don't care if your mom, dad, brother sister, aunt, friend, or uncle, want you to plant potatoes, because it is useful and that's what the family has always planted. We live in a society that constantly says that we must be useful to someone else in order to be a worthwhile human being, or bringing in those elusive "golden potatoes."

Being useful is good. Machines are useful. But we aren't machines. And not all of us were meant, or made to plant potatoes.
We are spiritual beings made to love, and be loved. We are endless.

And sometimes to be, and be still and be happy, just for the soul reason to be happy is a powerful force to be reckoned with.

Others would argue that in order for you to be happy you have to make someone else happy. Well...the way I see it, pleasing others to get brownie points never made anyone happy. Instead be happy. Do happy things. In reality you can not "Make" anyone happy. Happiness is a sphere in which it is never solely alone. It expands, just like anything good, and produces after its own kind. So be happy, and it will make others happy. It's that simple.

My sister and I spent the day swimming in the canal, just us two.
We had so much fun. It was the perfect temperature outside. The breeze was balmy. The sun was warm. The water was cool and refreshing. The corn growing alongside the canal. The air smelled fresh. Everything was beautiful. It was perfect.
We sat out on a bridge to dry off under the blue sky, quiet, alone and happy. It was as if, for that small moment, there was no one else in the world. We were truly happy. We didn't need anyone, or anything else to make us happy. We just were. And it was a nice feeling. More than that, it felt Good. Not the lazy kind of good.

It was the good kind of good. Where it just was. For no reason except that we were open to the wonderful day that had God had blessed us with, and we took our God-given right to enjoy it. And nobody can argue with that.

It's nice to be reminded, that to just be, to really be, and know that it's okay to be, to feel the sun on your back, to feel the water on your wet hair drying off in the sun, and to know that just to "Be," is a gift, your gift, and no one else can, "be" for you. It is your right to "Be," and that when all is said and done, it is only you who can feel the sun on your own skin, no one else can feel it for you. No one else can live your life the way you can. No one can allow you to take joy in the moment but you.

It is your choice.
It always has been.

So here's a sort of poem I just wrote, whilst I was thinkin on here.
Doesn't rhyme. But not all poems have to. Right?

It's called,

All the Difference
By Stephanie Skeem

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I took the one most traveled by.
It was long, and it was cold. But It was the path people told that led to all the riches and glory, and the gold.
And it was not long before I began to wonder. I felt like something was missing.
The cold cobble stone, and all the shoving and pushing. I wondered what I was doing.
But still I went on. Because it was the path my family, and friends wanted me on.
It had been worn by my grandparents and theirs before me.
It was one that was old. And a path that led to "Gold."
But something was still missing.
Many a man got waylaid and beaten.
But no one stopped to see if they were still breathing.
Onward we went. A all packed tight, light a can of tuna, racing to get to the gold.
We looked straight ahead, and never rested.
Ours was the path of the holy.
For we were good.
We did all we should.
We were doing what everyone was doing.
Never did we stop, or look up.
We were to busy, too focused on our goal.
We were neither happy or sad, because we didn't have time to know the difference.
Then along came the day, when I tripped and fell on my face.
No one stopped to give me hand. Trodden underfoot, I cried out in despair.
Did not any one care?
Then a hand pulled me from the crowd.
I cried, and I bowed. Before me stood a man, who bore marks in his hands, and a gentle love in his eyes.
I knew from his touch, that he didn't care if I won the "Golden elusive prize."
He smiled and took me away from the beaten road. Down to a quiet glen, to a forgotten path, bathed in the warm sun.
"Here I must leave you," said the man with a smile. "This is you're path. I have been trying to get your attention, for quite a while."
"But what about the gold, the prize?" I asked.
"The gold?" the man wondered. "the prize?"
"Yes, I continued. "I'm not quite sure what it is. But it's what everyone is after."
"Don't worry about what others say," the man warned. "The prize is found in the journey and not and the end. Don't look for the gold. But notice what things are really of worth. Don't worry about traveling by other people's clocks.
Time is mans' way of measuring you're worth.
On my path time is not really measured that much.
It's the way that you travel, and what you enjoy. It's what you notice, and how much you forget that time exists. It's the joy of the journey, and not how fast you go.
These are the things that are truly of worth.

I scoffed at first, but then as I took my first step, and instantly knew what I had missed. I felt the warm sand between my feet, not cold cobblestone. There were birds perched in the trees, singing a sweet song.
A brook was gurgling by the side of the path, and I stopped and enjoyed myself, taking a foot bath.
I smiled without knowing why. I felt alive. Was I in heaven? I dared not surrender. Somehow this was a trick.
Nobody could want me this happy. I had to be miserable first. I should be getting along, instead of wetting my feet. This wasn't useful. I must use my feet.
But then I remembered the man's words. He was sure, and his words seemed true.
It is the joy of the journey, and not how fast you go.
So I took his words, and went on my way. I stopped and watched the children play.
I took time to eat my food. I shared my bread, and laughed, and stood.
I took long naps, and I stopped to draw pretty pictures. I wrote down what I saw, and I read stories of other fellow path travelers.
I swam through rivers, and I wadded through waters. I climbed hills, and I scaled towers. I paused atop a mountain's might peak, and watched, and waited, and thought, and smiled. I cried, when the road got hard. But I was happy still, because I at least knew what I felt. I smelled the air, and felt the earth. I saw the yellow flowers growing on the side of the road. I saw a wispy spiders web covered in dew. I paused and sat on a stump, and watched the forest grow and renew.
Two roads diverged. And the road I took was full of air, and space. It led on to magic fields, filled with roses, and towns and places untouched by human hands.
Many on the beaten track, stopped to point and stare, saying that I was silly for wanting, space, time, freedom, and fresh air.
But I didn't pay them any mind.
I knew what was on their road. The beaten path, beats you until there's nothing left. And makes you forget who you are, where you've gone and why.
I had traveled it once.
And nearly died.
Many had said that the well traveled road would be an enjoyable ride.
But on it there was no space to breathe. No time to stop.
No time to think. There was no where to hide!
All you could do was drive, drive drive.
Bumper to bumper, on this treacherous road, car wrecks, and heartache, and people being rude.
No. I decided. I would never look back. The master had taken me, and I had learned to loved the less beaten track.
Alone with the air, and God, and the trees.
I walk, I dance, I skip, I smell the breeze.
This my road. This little path. However wide. It's not the length, it's the joy of the ride.
It's taken me much farther than I could have ever thought.
Through rainy mists, darkness, chilly seasons, and light of day. Through moor, and highland and hilly maze.
I've seen the birds, felt the warmth and the snow, I've basked in the raindrops, and seen many a rainbow.
For here on this path, I've found all the things I love. Before, I never knew, I didn't have time to love.
And this love I've found, it isn't founded in things, nor in people, nor money, nor fame, nor success.
It's a love that goes deeper than any of that.
It's expansive, and encompasses all.
It creates paths where none can see.
It makes us feel like there's something we can be.
It makes bridges and breaks down walls.
Heals old wounds, and makes short people tall.
It makes us strong, so we can climb.
It never forgets us, and always forgives.
The pathfinder of heaven, the keeper of our dreams,
it is he who has called me from the beaten path.
And that, that has made all the difference.

-------------------------------------------

I'm posting the this powerful movie about the man who created the company, Pixar.
It is pretty awesome. And very humbling to think what a loss the world would have been, had he taken a different path.

Until next time.

“Making a living and having a life are not the same thing.”

2011-06-06T13:41:00.000-07:00

My Book trailer (You might want to turn off my loud website music on here before you watch it)

I have this habit of staying up very latish before my birthday so that I can reminisce, and think about where I've been, and where I want to be.
As a rite of passage, or as a way of holding on to the last moments of my younger self, I watched as the clock ticked its way dangerously close to twelve. Then, thinking that just watching the lock was a little lame, I turned out the lights, turned on my flashlight, got in bed, and read the children's book, "Oh the places you'll go," By Dr. Seuss. It's my favorite Dr. Seuss book. It's very applicable to life/writing and anyone struggling to overcome mountains in the game of life. I highly recommend it.

Also, to celebrate my Birthday and my wonderful family and awesome friends, I'm going to give a gift to ya all. I'm posting the link to my new website, and book trailer for my upcoming fantasy novel!! On this website you will find the first chapter to my upcoming book. The main character's adventures begin on his birthday, so I thought it fitting.

My website is here, http://www.wix.com/ivoryautumn/thequestoforionsbelt" Just a reminder, my pen name is Ivory Autumn for those who may be confused. Also the site is still being worked on. So keep checking in to see when my book is actually out. :)

Now back to the subject of my Birthday----My Birthday has always made me feel a little special--yeah, I know everyone's birthday makes them feel special. The difference for me is that when I was born, I wasn't breathing. My parents were worried that I wouldn't make it. But then, because of really cool doctors, and little miracles, I'm alive today. To be alive is a nice thing. And because I'm still very much alive, I like to think that---especially on the days when I feel like there's no point, that I still have a mission to fulfill, because God has a plan for me. And you.

My wonderful Aunt Connie just recently passed away after battling cancer for many years. She will really be missed. Her life wasn't very easy. She lost her husband to cancer when she was a young mother, with three boys. She had financial problems, and a host of other obstacles that she overcame. She was one of those people who really made you feel good about yourself. She was creative, passionate, and she did what she loved, and relished the the moment. The passionate way she lived her life reminds me that time is a gift, and we must use the time we have to create---to create a beautiful life, to do what we love, to do what matters most. A quote I read somewhere says it best---the basic message of it was (I can't remember it word for word) that many people often believe that you must be miserable, and do what you don't love in order to do what you want to do. But if you don't take the moment, and do what you love now---you will never do what you love, you will trap yourself by living a lie, and things that are really meaningless will take up your time, and you'll feel cheated. So do what you love now. No excuses. Because doing what you love gives you joy, it creates a force to be reckoned with---a force and power for good that will be remembered.

Another thing I want to touch on is the question that many people ask me (that really bugs me) "What do you do?" Or in other words, how do you spend most of your time? What it really seems like they're asking is, please tell me why I should like you. Tell me what good things you are doing. If you are doing something that makes me look good by being your friend, then I might take a chance to get to know you better. But if you're not---then see ya later pal.
It's rather upsetting.

I was writing a letter to a friend, which says it best, so I'll include a little blip from it, so I don't have to explain it twice.

Here it is ---I suppose I have a different paradigm than most people, because I’ve learned a lot of stuff on my own, not because someone taught me---but because I wanted to know how it worked. It’s kind of a neat feeling. It’s funny, how when you first meet people they ask, “What do you do?” Last week in the singles ward, we had a get to know you game, where everyone answered the question, who are you, and what do you do?
Everybody kind of exaggerated, or under exaggerated, depending on their self esteem. You could tell everybody was very uncomfortable.
I really dislike the question myself. I get the feeling if you answer it wrong, people will slash an ugly check mark on your forehead and say, “Next.”
One of my favorite authors, Robert Fulgam, says it best, “Making a living and having a life are not the same thing.” He went on to say that we are a lot more than just how we make money. He told some person who asked him what he did for a living that he was a respirator---or someone who breathes in and out.
*Ha* If what we do is about how we spend our time, the truth is, most of us spend half our time sleeping, the other half eating, and then going to the bathroom. So go figure. Another truth is that most of us, at one point in our lives, are many things. So to answer that question correctly, Last month, judging how I spent my time, I’d have to say, I was a landscaper, janitor, goat milkier, cook, explorer, singer, (sad person, cus my favorite aunty just died, and we had to go to her funeral) musician, writer, friend, doctor, athlete, cowgirl, mosquito masher, treasure finder, councilor, and, accidental comedian, dreamer, cheese cake tester, author, repair woman, and rain flood rescue worker for drenched animals.

Thus to sum up my life in the smallest possible words, A J.R.R Token Quote comes to mind.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king

------------------------------------

So, now, I ask you, from my heart? What do you do? What gives you joy? Don't play yourself down if you don't make a lot of money. Money really is meaningless. All it is, is a tool. No one should base who they are on how much money they get, or how much learning they achieve in this life. Real wisdom is learning to listen to that small voice that's inside us---to the voice of truth and following our own path. Real wisdom comes from taking time to live---to really live.

I want to close this blog post by challenging you---be you young, old, rich poor, famous or invisible, to see yourself and others in a new light. To get to know the people in your life by really delving deeper. When we get into groups and speak of money and position, education, why don't we talk about ideas, dreams, the small things that make up our lives. Because those things are the things that really make us who we are. We are much more than what we do, and we do much more than most people will ever know. "Be the change you seek in the world"--Gandhi

So I'll end with some awesome quotes that made me feel something when I read them. I hope you all enjoy them as much as I do. Reading quotes helps remind me the why and how of it all. Helps me to remember that even though my art, writing, and the little things I do every day will aren't perfect, or ever will be, that what I do matters.

A lot of these quotes came from a book called The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron. I highly recommend it as well.

We tend to think being hard on ourselves will make us strong. But it is cherishing ourselves that gives us strength.” pg 126

“Perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead.” pg 119

“Creativity lives in paradox: serious art is born from serious play.” pg 112

"I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it." --Pablo Picasso

The best use of life is to invest it in something which will out last life. - William James

Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live, taking the form of readiness to die. - G.K. Chesterton

Just don't give up trying to do what you really want to do. Where there is love and inspiration, I don't think you can go wrong. - Ella Fitzgerald, American singer (b. 1918)

"Everyone has a purpose in life ... a unique gift or special talent to give to others. And when we blend this unique talent with service to others, we experience the ecstasy and exultation of our own spirit, which is the ultimate goal of all goals." - pg. 93, "The Law of Dharma"

Failure is not always a mistake, it may simply be the best one can do under the circumstances. The real mistake is to stop trying. - B F. Skinner, American psychologist (b. 1904)

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.

~ Martha Graham ~

You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.

~ Colette ~

Always leave enough time in your life to do something that makes you happy, satisfied, even joyous. That has more of an effect on economic well-being than any other single factor.

~ Paul Hawken ~

I don't have a lot of respect for talent. Talent is genetic.
It's what you do with it that counts.

~ Martin Ritt ~

Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things.

~ Edgar Degas ~

Hula hoop wars/book covers/website/smoking trains/

2011-04-30T10:39:00.001-07:00

Hiya y'all,

My poor little bloggy got left alone, in the dark cold world for a whole month. Wowzers. It doesn't seem like it's been that long. I think we should trim time's wings so it doesn't fly so fast.

For those of you who have followed my blog while I was gone, I will try follow you back as soon as I can. Drop me a line so I know if I've followed you or not. It's kind of hard to keep track. Thanks heaps for your nice comments. You are so nice! And for those of you who have bought my firstest book, left nice reviews, and told other people about my writings, thank you, thank you and thank you!!!!! I really appreciate the support. I'll pay it forward to other aspiring authors in whatever way I can. It's nice to know that there awesome people out there willing to give new authors a chance. You guys are the stuff legends are really made of. No pun intended. :)

Oh, and also, whilst I'm in the thanking mode. Thank you to all who came to learn some hoop dancing tricks. I'm seriously going to have to start a hoop dance class sometime soon. It was loads of fun! I was excited to post the pictures from our hoop dancing on here. But In my blondness, when I thought I was putting my pics onto the computer, I was in fact, only loading on stupid pictures, things---like grass, my knee, and other random pictures that mean nothing.I didn't catch that small detail, and in my haste, I supposed that my computer was behaving nicely. In my happy, ignorant bliss I formatted my memory card (which means I deleted everything on my camera) blissfully unawares of this sad truth. But, I soon learned that all the pictures I had taken of my sister's high-school dance/date, were now non existent. Not only that, important pictures of a train that had caught on fire by my house, had vanished. Not to mention the videos. Thus, there was much gnashing of teeth and sadness. A whole months worth of pictures gone, along with mementos of important passages in a girls life.

Let that be a lesson to....me. Never trust computers. They are really helpful for the most part. But when you're not looking---they are stinkers.

On a happy note--perhaps a whole score of music would be more fitting. The book cover for my next book is complete. As you can see above. Yep. I'm proud. Especially since I was able to design it myself. (Yep I'm bragging)I love art and design. This upcoming book has a fantasy map, (Designed by me) and lots of fun fantasy character pictures. Sometimes doing all the artwork is a big headache, but it's still a nice feeling to create something out of nothing. Just so ya all know I'm writing under the pen name, "Ivory Autumn." Why a pen name you ask? Well, it's like this. I have always wanted a pen name ever since I can remember. I'm not really sure why. It just is so cool, having a secrete identity, like super man. Silly? Yes. But it makes me smile every time I think about it. I was just wondering, do any of my readers have pen names? If so, come and share all the juicy details about how you acquired it. However if you want to remain hidden in the shadows, I understand. Your pen name must have been picked for stealth purposes. Mine not so much. Just more of a fancy of mine.

If everything works out, my book should be out pretty soon. I'm soooooooooooooo excited. *Cartwheels, root-beer floats, and fireworks are in order! It's taken me a little over three years to get this book-baby born. Yeah, I know. I've been working on writing the other three in the series along with it. But it's still a long time. A very long time.
Another cool thing! My really awesome flash website is so AWESOME! It's something I've wanted for a uber long time. I'm so happy with it! I feel pretty dang lucky.
I'll post the link to it soon--probably on my next post. I don't want you guys to see it until I get the first chapter of my book up.

This past month has been pretty interesting. Just the other day, as me and my sister Bessie were about to go to bed, I spied a huge fire outside out our window. It looked like our neighbor's house was on fire. Being the curious Skeemages that we are, we got in the van and drove to the burning building. We found that it wasn’t the house itself that was on fire, but a large building only a few feet away from the house. The fire had grown so big that it was climbing up the trunk of the tree next to it. The tree was overhanging the house, so we were really worried. The weird thing was, tons of cars were parked round the house like a party was going on. But when my sister rang the doorbell, no one answered. I didn’t have my cell phone with me, so we couldn’t call 911. Not knowing what else to do, Bessie burst through their door, and ran into their house looking for people. She couldn’t find anybody so she used their phone to call 911. (Kudos for Bessie)

After that, we kind of figured there wasn’t much else we could do, so we went back home. Then, as an after thought, my mom called our neighbors house. Weird thing was, they answered. My mom told them that we had called 911, and that their shed was on fire. They told her that they knew it was on fire, and that it was old junky shed and wasn’t any big deal. It made Bess and I feel super sheepish. Our neighbors had been in their house the whole time, and they didn’t know my sister had come in, used their phone and then left. Weird. Period. I think I’d be a little more concerned if a fire that humongous was burning next to my house.

AS for other adventures. My younger sister, Laurie, and her friend roped me into their evil plan to ask certain boys to a dance (Preference) by sabotaging the boys' cars so they couldn’t get to school on time. So we (or Laurie and her friend) decided to execute this plan in the dead of night, when sane people don’t venture out into the freakish cold darkness. Our first order of business was to pick up some junk hay our neighbor so kindly offered, which Laurie and her friend wanted to place in the back of the boys cars. This hay (more accurately piles of mold and poky weeds) was located in outer darkness, in the center of a muddy, dead-car lot.
Because it was so muddy, we had to park the truck a goodly ways off from the pile of mold-hay. As soon as we got out and inspected the pile of mold, coyotes started howling. Very creepy. (Can you tell I don’t like being in the dark?) Then to make it all the more comical/horrible, all three of us girls had to work together to carry the hay. We literally had to become one with the bales of mold, because they were so corroded that the twine holding them together was barely hanging on for dear life. Not to mention they were moist, and very heavy. We had to stop every few minutes and cough, sneeze, and gasp for air. By the time we got the first bale to the truck we were covered in cheetgrass. Not to mention all three of us had to kick, pull, and karate the back of the truck so it would open. It took us about 20 mins to get the thing open. By then, I was ready to call it quits. The boys wouldn’t think a bale of moldy hay blocking their car very much of an obstacle anyway. But my sister and her friend are very determined. bale
So we went and got three more bales of hey, and carefully stacked them into the back of the truck. That was only the beginning.

We sticky-noted the inside of the boys' cars, peanut buttered all the door handles, filled the inside of the cars with balloons, and then we wound string around the seats and everywhere else. It looked pretty cool---like spider man had visited the place, and had a balloon, peanut butter, sticky-note party. Oh and we also placed the pile of mold-hay behind the cars, in such a way that it would make it difficult for the boys to drive to school. I shan’t mention the freezing peanut butter covered fingers, or the fact that because we were covered in cheetgrass, the balloons we came in contact with exploded very loudly, causing a neighbor lady to peer at us from her porch. Nor the fact that my sister's friend and her truck are so noisy that I don’t know how we got away without being discovered. All in all it was a very memorable experience.

*Laughs*

I'm kind of sleepy. So I think I'll go take a nap. Yesterday, I just went on a trip with my fam in the desert. I would love to tell you all the details. But I'll save that for another time. Suffice it to say that I have a new addition to my Stephanese Proverbs. He or she who grabs cactus that looks like it has no prickles on it will still get prickled
Talk to you soon.
Steph

6 worst/best analogies of high school students

2011-02-19T20:05:00.000-08:00

This video is so horribly funny. Take a min and watch.

Today is humor day, if you can't tell. Now smile, think of something funny, and laugh. If you can't think of anything funny. Pretend to laugh. I read somewhere that your body can't tell the difference in between a fake laugh and a real one, so go a head and chortle. You know it's good for you.

I know it's mean, but the other day at a conference thing, I got distracted by a woman in front of me. She had this really long whisker protruding from her cheek. I was like. Wow. That looks...er...um...kind of funny.

It took superhuman strength to keep from laughing when she turned her head, and it bobbed up and down. I tucked my head into my chest and concentrated hard on thinking serious thoughts, on frowning and looking very intent on listening to the speaker.

But it didn't work. The harder I tried to hold in my laugh, the more it wanted to come out. I know. Terrible of me. Please don't think me unsympathetic to those inflicted with strange morphed face-hair they can do nothing about. I mean who doesn't have odd hairs, moles, bumps, ticks, or whatever?

Recently, I had a nuclear zit. It was huge. My sister tried plastering base on it to save me from public humiliation. She poured gallons of makeup onto it. But her efforts did nothing to help me, it only made it looked worse, like a huge volcanic eruption on my face. Not so nice.
I'm sure someone wondered what accident I had been in.

My point? Sometimes we just have to laugh at our humanness. (Is that a word?)Sometimes you just have to laugh, when you do stupid things. I remember putting Birthday candles in the dishwashers, much to my mothers dismay. Wax was everywhere.
Oh, and there was the time when I tested out my mom's soup with the thermometer, and the thermometer exploded. We had to throw away the soup, much to my mother's chagrin. Then there was the time when my sister was swaying back and forth on a chair, only to have the back of the chair crash through the window. Ooops.

I remember once, this older lady who came up to me, and said, "Oh, Stephanie, you're so cute, and grownup, you're getting bigger every day."

My very thoughtful reply was. "You too."

Boy, did that lady laugh. She laughed for almost 20 min. I'm not kidding. I went very red. I didn't mean it in the way she took it. Oh well.

When I write/edit my work, I almost always find something ridiculous that makes me laugh. Her eyes darted across the room. Honestly? How can they do that?

Odd mistakes, and blunders like these are very helpful in reaffirming how mortal I am. They help me to remember that I'm not perfect, nor should I expect myself or any other person on the planet to be. It also helps me to laugh. I for one believe that God has a sense of humor. If it wasn't true most of us wouldn't be here.

Word of kind advice, keep a log of your funny blunders, remember them, and save them for future reference. If they don't seem very funny now, perhaps with time they will be.

Last week, on a particularly raining day, I was feeling like Ms. Grumpus herself. I felt like I was growing warts and everything. To make a long story short, one of my 6 sisters,(I shan't say which one) ran over our mailbox quite a long time ago. And the poor little mailbox hasn't ever been the same since. It hasn't shut very well, and my family used various objects to prop it up. But as with all good things, the mailbox met it's end in the bad rainy weather, and fell to the ground. The mail-lady, did not see the fallen box and ceased to deliver the mail.

Sniff.

That's not even the worst part.

So. I told myself. I will fix the mailbox and we shall have mail again.
Thus me and my sister, Bess, went to work figuring out how to make the mailbox so it would shut properly. I got excited and decided to paint the mailbox. After all, my mom always wanted a pretty mailbox.

So, I being a painter, worked on the mailbox for two days. Then, during the night, I decided to take a break, and perhaps, finish it on the morrow.
Then tragedy struck.
My mom awoke early and innocently stuck the mailbox on it's makeshift stand so the mail would come, as she had been doing every day whilst I had been painting the mailbox---then bringing it in after it (the mail and the box) after the mail had come.

Sadly that morning it had been raining. I asked my mom if the paint could withstand the rain. My mom being familiar with all things painterly thought that it would be fine. However, there was much weeping, gnashing of teeth, when my mother brought in the mailbox, and we all gathered round to see the massacre of my Sistine mailbox.

The paint was peeling and popping up like it was a hundred years old, with balled up lumps of colored paint-mush dripping down it.

I broke into tears.

Naturally my mom tried to make the best of it. "Doesn't look that bad. Maybe you can fix it?"

I left the room teary-eyed and very sure that I was the only one in the world with a "rained on mailbox."
My mom felt bad. And I felt bad that my mom felt bad. So I told her not to feel bad, because I felt bad if she felt bad. Because it was really nobody's fault. Well. To make short story shorter. I decided not to let my "Rained on mailbox" get the best of me. And I scrubbed off the parts of the paint that were coming off, and I tried to make the best of a bad thing. I finished painting it.

It didn't look half bad. The pictures don't show it, but I plastered the background with glitter to make the bumpy paint look more interesting. Looks tons better in the sun. Then, just to make sure the rain/snow wouldn't ruin my paint job again, I sprayed it with sealing stuff. And I'm very happy with it.

My point? I suppose it's rather funny. I mean, who spends hours, and hours painting their mailbox, only to have their beautiful paint job sabotaged by acidic rain?

So, when life rains on your "mailbox" whatever kind it may be, you have two choices.

First choice, you can be sad, mad, angry, and depressed and start blaming the world for your tragic problems, and go hide in a hole and be a grump. Yeah. I'm sure that will make everybody happy.

Or you can let it go. See the rained on "Mailbox" for what it is. A fluke of life, something that you must learn and grow from. Then you must forgive yourself, or whoever, move on, and try to make the best out of a bad thing. It will get better.

Then you look at the problem straight in the eye and laugh. Nothing disarms a problem so easily as a laugh. Try it next time someone is rude to you. It really makes them scratch their heads. And best of all it really does make things better.

So, without further ado, I shall post my funny find for your enjoyment.

My sister found this article on the net. I couldn't resist, and had to share. Some of these are pretty insightful. Haha. Hope you get a good laugh. The original link to this is :http://www.losteyeball.com/index.php/2007/06/19/56-worstbest-analogies-of-high-school-students/

Oh, and one more word. Fellow bloggers, if you have any funny tidbits you would like to share, please don't hesitate to post them here.

----------------------------------------------------
56 worst/best analogies of high school students
(As written in the article)

Apparently the washingtonpost held a contest in which high school teachers sent in the “worst” analogies they’d encountered in grading their students’ papers over the years. (I place “worst” in quotes because many of these actually strike me as quite witty). The top 25 of these have been circulating around the “Sandra Bullock” (”net”, get it?) recently, but I decided to post all 56 that I was able to find. Here they are, in their order of objective funniness (in my opinion):

1. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
2. He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.
3. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
4. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
5. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
6. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
7. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
8. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
9. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
10. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
11. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
12. The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
13. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
14. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
15. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at asolar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
16. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
17. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
18. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.
19. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
20. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
21. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.
22. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
23. Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it hadrusted shut.
24. He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that hunts dogs, I suppose.
25. She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
26. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
27. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
28. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
29. “Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
30. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
31. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
32. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
33. The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
34. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
35. Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”
36. The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
37. The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
38. She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
39. Her pants fit her like a glove, well, maybe more like a mitten, actually.
40. Fishing is like waiting for something that does not happen very often.
41. They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.”
42. Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein’s Obsession would smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead of natural floral fragrances.
43. The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
44. He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.
45. The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.
46. Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in mucus and then held up to catch the light.
47. The baseball player stepped out of the box and spit like a fountain statue of a Greek god that scratches itself a lot and spits brown, rusty tobacco water and refuses to sign autographs for all the little Greek kids unless they pay him lots of drachmas.
48. I felt a nameless dread. Well, there probably is a long German name for it, like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but I don’t speak German. Anyway, it’s a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic gizmos that close your bread bags. I don’t know the name for those either.
49. She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
50. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
51. It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.
52. Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.
53. You know how in “Rocky” he prepares for the fight by punching sides of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he was in.
54. The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
55. Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.
56. The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10 percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent black.

The Story of St. Valentine

2011-02-13T10:42:00.000-08:00

My sis and I do music programs for people. At this particular program we sang some love songs. So in honor of Valentine's day, I'm posting a song by my sister. :) I was going to post the mushy video, (With both of us singing) but I decided that this video is a little better. Not so mushy. I'll have to take some recordings in a not so echoy room next time.

My sister's Birthday is on Valentine's Day. Happy Birthday my wonderful sweet sis, Laurie! You are by far the best valentine ever! :)

Was thinking a lot about Valentine's Day. Not just because it's my sister's Birthday, but because, about a year ago today, my parents split. Not only that, a lot of my friends had their relationships go askew. Makes me wonder if there's some sort of hex on February, where the Devil sets aside special time to break apart relationships. Then I heard the real story of St. Valentine. It touched me deeply. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that when someone believes in something so much that they are willing to die for it, it makes you sit up in your seat and listen a little better.

In honor of those we love and care for, please set aside some time tomorrow to show your special someone that you truly care. Fight for those you care about, because love is the only thing that truly matters in the end. Give love to all you meet. Because when you withhold love your soul shrinks.

The Story of St. Valentine

In 270 A.D., marriage had been outlawed by the emperor of Rome, Claudius II. Claudius issued this decree because he thought that married men made bad soldiers since they were reluctant to be torn away from their families in the case of war. Claudius had also outlawed Christianity in this time period because he wished to be praised as the one supreme god, the Emperor of Rome. Valentine was the bishop of Interamna during this period of oppression. Valentine thought that the decrees of Rome were wrong. He believed that people should be free to love God and to marry. Valentine invited the young couples of the area to come to him. When they came, Valentine secretly performed services of matrimony and united the couples.

Valentine was eventually caught and was brought before the emperor. The emperor saw that Valentine had conviction and drive that was unsurpassed among his men. Claudius tried and tried to persuade Valentine to leave Christianity, serve the Roman empire and the Roman gods. In exchange, Claudius would pardon him and make him one of his allies. St. Valentine held to his faith and did not renounce Christ. Because of this, the emperor sentenced him to a three-part execution. First, Valentine would be beaten, then stoned, and then finally, decapitated. Valentine died on February 14th, 270 A.D.

While in prison, waiting for his sentence to be carried out, Valentine fell in love with the jailer's daughter, the blind Asterius. During the course of Valentine's prison stay, a miracle occurred and Asterius regained her sight. Valentine sent her a final farewell note. He signed his last note, "From Your Valentine." Even today, this message remains as the motto for our Valentine's Day celebrations.

The original link to this story is from http://www.lhmint.org/valentines/story.htm

The Crusades

2011-02-09T08:21:00.000-08:00

So I've joined the crusades. It sounds like it should be fun. You'll be able to meet new people and make new friends. If you wish to do the same, click on the link.

http://rachaelharrie.blogspot.com/2011/02/second-writers-platform-building.html?showComment=1297268126548#c5340760230318137233

Lead and Inspire!

2011-02-01T11:17:00.000-08:00

HA, I did! I tried out for Tuacahn, with my sis. Felt pretty proud of myself. Tuachan puts on some pretty prestigious plays. So, we thought we aught to give it a try. Spent a lot of time learning a song, backwards and forwards, till all my family got sick of me singing it. *Smiles/sruggs*

I sang it in the bathroom, in shower, whilst cleaning, folding laundry, doing animals, and even when I was sleep, I could still feel the song rolling around in my head, bumping around in my skull, making it hard for me to sleep.

When I make up my mind to do something, better watch out. :)

Then when the day for auditions rolled around, we got to BYU campus and froze! It was so cold. I am a firm hater of cold. Heat you can escape from. You can't sweat cold away. I was wearing a thin little skirt, and dance shoes, no socks and a really thin jacket. Why was I dressed such? Vanity to be exact. Yes. I know that's a bad reason. Vanity does have it's prices. Like frostbite. In the end, yes, I had to chop off a couple toes, and fingers. But I still looked fabulous. Brrrrr. The building we were supposed to try out in was clear at the very end of campus. By the time I got there I was an iceberg.

Once there, there was long row of people, with little number tags on their fronts. I would like to say in all honesty that I wasn't nervous. Sure. I've put on music programs for pretty big audiences. But this was a little different. Okay, a lot different. I had this weird thought to run and hide in a restroom until it was all over. Yeah, I know that's very chicken of me. We all are like chicken's from time to time.

I felt very much like the little girl I had watched at the swimming pool, who had gotten up the courage to go off the high dive. However, when the girl reached the edge of the diving board, she stood there, with quaking knees, peering out over the edge, frightened to death. Her mother who was watching from the kiddy pool called out to her, "you can do it! Go on, jump. Here, I'll count, one, two, three, JUMP!" However the little girl scooted back on her hands and knees and went back down to her mother.

I'll admit, it was very funny to watch. Very entertaining. You could see that the girl really wanted to jump. But she was terrified.

Still her mother encourage her. So the little girl went bravely back up onto the diving board, and peered over the edge at the water far below her.
"I'm scared," the little girl said. "Mom, count to nine, and then I'll jump."
Her mother counted to nine. Still she did not jump. Then her mother counted to three. Then her sister started calling out to her to jump.

When watching her, I was silently calling out for her to jump too. But still she lingered on the edge of the board, knees bent, wide eyed and fearful. She stood on the edge of the diving board, on brink of jumping, for almost an hour. You could tell she wanted to do it, but something was holding her back. That something was fear. After a long time of deliberation, the girl scooted back, and went back to her mother. Her mother was frustrated. So she and jumped off the diving board a couple of times so the girl could see that it was possible.
But try as she might to have the courage to do it, she didn't jump.
Fear held her back.

I felt very much like that little girl many times in my life. Fear holds a lot of us back from things we could be accomplishing. The unknown is frighting. But it is only when we do the thing we fear, is fear vanquished.

So, instead of running away from the door, when my number was called for auditions. I put held my breath, and dove through the door. *Splasha*

Inside, the room was huge, with mirrors on the sides. At the far end of the room as about a dozen or more men, (all looked about the same age) sitting on this long, never ending table, which looked even longer, because of the mirrors surrounding the room. I concluded with all the extra reflections, and such, that there were over a hundred people in the room. The men all sat behind laptop computers, resembling a long row of dark headstones, looking smug, and very austere. *I seriously thought about slamming their computers shut and shouting, *Boo!* Especially if I thought it would make them laugh or smile or just do something.

Instead of doing any of that, I went very meekly up to the piano player, and he asked me if there was a piece of the music I wanted him to play that would best show off my voice. I was taken off guard, and told him, just to start at the beginning of the song. I was told to stand at this little tape mark, far from the long row of men. I felt very uncomfortable. I was sure that standing before a firing squad, with something over my eyes, would have been far more enjoyable. At least they would have asked me if I had any last request, or something I wanted to say before I was filled with led.

The men all kind of looked bored, and gave me this look that said, "Okay, girl. I'm really bored. I've been sitting here all day listening to people sing. Just hurry and get it over with cuz, I want to go eat my supper."

The piano started to play, and I started singing. The room seemed so big, and my voice felt small. I sang louder. The piano player was amazing, and paused for me when I forgot to come in. (Inward thoughts, Oh my gosh! I think they hate me! Why did I choose this song? Gosh, they look bored. Grr. I need to sing louder. Why in the heck are they staring at their computers? Do I really sound that bad?
I kept on singing, and then just after the climax, which was the best part, those who had been looking at their computers finally looked up and acted like they were really listening. Maybe even enjoying the song? Then just as I was about go on with the rest of the song, they told me that was good, and to stop.
I think they could see my face go, first red, then blue, then purple. Flustered, I wished that I could dissolve right there on the floor in a pile of fairy dust. I went to go get my music from the piano player, and one of the men asked me a little bit about myself and chatted with me. And another guy told me good job. I wondered if he really meant it. I felt a little bit better after that. But still I shot out of that room as soon as I could, and ripped off the little sticker, number 409, I think it was, and went for the drinking fountain, glad to be out of the hot seat.
I DID IT! Good job Stephanie. Yep. Think I'll pat myself on the back.
Doesn't mean I did a perfect job. But I did it. I gave myself a long speech afterward about how I could have done this or that better. But all self talk aside. The important thing is that, both me and my sister, did something way out of our comfort zone and vanquished our fears. My sis and I have both sung for hundreds of people, but we both agreed, that that particular experience was much more frightening than singing in a room filled with a thousand people. Seriously. There's something very austere about men, all in suits, sitting behind computers, in a large room, in which you must stand apart, to be looked at and heard from all angles.
It's very nerve wracking! I read something somewhere about how fear of getting in front of people stems from our primeval ancestors. Which, when they were hungry, would single one of their kind out, so they could eat them. Yeah. Funny. I know.

So, if you're afraid of being eaten when you sing, speak, or do anything in the public eye. Don't worry. I promise they aren't thinking of barbecuing you. And if they are, well, then I guess you better run. :)

Thus ends my ramblings for today. Word of advice for those who wish to do something, but don't dare. Just do it. It doesn't matter if you get the prize. What matters is that you tried.

"So throw away the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade in your sails. Explore, Dream Discover." --Mark Twain.

Nick Vujicic

2011-01-28T20:54:00.000-08:00

Another good video of his. Enjoy.

With Christ You Can Do All Things

2011-01-28T17:59:00.000-08:00

I had a huge article written, but I decided that I would just forget it. Feeling blue, sad, and lonely. Sometimes you don't realise how much someone means to you until they are gone. Heartache doesn't go away easily. Nuff said.

Anywho... I've been reading a book, called, "Life without Limits," by Nick Vujicic, a guy who was born without arms or legs. It's a pretty amazing story. He has some pretty neat thoughts that are very comforting, especially when you know this guy has gone through some pretty tough stuff---so he really means what he says. I decided I'd just post this instead of my long ramblings. Besides, this video is what I wanted to say anyway.

To Everything There Is A Season

2011-01-15T18:20:00.000-08:00

I tend to psychoanalyze myself a lot these days. Not sure if anyone else out there does that. Perhaps I'm alone on this.

Amid ruminating over my own inner thoughts, I came to the conclusion that I as in---I myself, haven't owned myself enough. Weird I know. Sounds selfish, yes. But it is true. A lot of my life has been predominated by male figures who need me to constantly do things for them, to fulfill their grand expectations, men who want to own me, my talents, or control me, what I do with my life. Just so you know, I'm not trying to sound bitter. I'm not. I'm just analyzing myself so I can better understand why I feel the way I do. Yes, I know. A blog is a weird place to analyze oneself.
Very exposing. Gosh. Guess you don't know who now feels sheepish. Baaa.

So after listening to Stephen Covey, (7 habits of Highly effective people) I've concluded that people need a sense of ownership before they can freely give something away. This may sound silly, but it's true. Go watch kids. If they open a gift on their birthday, and you (the kind parent) try to make them instantly share their gift, candy, gum, toy, or whatever, and rip it out of their hand before they are ready, it will cause your child to withdraw, and resent you.

However, if the child is given freedom to own the gift, to play with it, see how it works, to discover it on their own, then they are more apt to share, besides more often than not, they want to share because it is their right. If you make them share something before they are ready, you've taken away their freedom to give. And once you've taken away that freedom, it's made something that could have been beautiful, into something ugly.

Same goes with relationships. If you don't feel like you have owned yourself enough, you won't be able to give of yourself freely. It will be forced. Not sure if I'm making any sense. If not, you can quit reading and go do something more interesting, like eat a brownie.

I have been nibbling on homemade, scrumptious, German Chocolate cake. Yum. You know I'm tying to make you jealous.

Back to subject.

I was reading my scriptures and I turned to Ecclesiastes 3, where it talks about times and seasons, and it struck a chord, because I tend to beat myself up because I don't feel like I fit the mold, and timetable of of everybody else. Everybody seems to be so on top of their lives, and know what their doing tomorrow, the next day, the next, and their entire lives. At least, that's what it seams like. Me on the other hand, am a "rebel" of sorts. I don't fit into the dot-to dot life so may people have. I want to make my own picture, even if it looks not so geometric.
I'm not always sure what I'm going to do. I only know that whatever I'm going to do, it has to be aligned with my beliefs and deepest desires, dreams and goals. And that's how I live. I guess, in a way, I'm glad I don't always know what's coming next. I mean, honestly, would you really want to know? That would take away the adventure of living.

In the words of one of my Sheroes, Hellen Keller, "Security doesn't exist in nature, life is a daring adventure, or nothing."

I sometimes tend to compare myself to others, who fit perfectly into molds formed for them when they were just in the cradle. Yet when I try to fit myself into their mold, I end up very uncomfortable, and squished. Amid this swishyness, I learn the hard lesson that you can't fit into other peoples preconceived molds. You just won't fit. So don't even try to be someone your not. Be your best self, and splash colors across the coloring book lines of life, and be glad that your picture is different, and as unique as yourself. God has given us the grand canvas of life, and it is up to us to fill this canvas with beautiful colors, pictures, landscapes, and people. And paint nice. Give advice to other painters if they ask for help. But don't go splashing your paintbrush across other peoples canvases, just because you think you know how it's suppose to look. It's very rude.

And in the words of another one of my Sheroes, Mother Teresa, "I'm a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world."

So don't get upset if your pencil doesn't look like everybody elsees. We are all ultimately trying for the same thing. We all want to love, be loved, and to radiate Gods love to everyone we meet. We want the love letter we write, to be aligned with the first love letter that God sent us, when Christ came on earth. But we need to be okay with the fact that our letters are not going to be perfect. They will probably have lots of errors, some misspelled words, misplaced modifiers, improper grammar, wrong verbage, and a host of other problems. But if our intentions are where they should be, all those mistakes won't matter. What matters is that we try.

It also helps to remember that everybody is on a different timetable. Every individual is at a different season in their life, so you cannot compare yourself to others, wanting what they have. Honestly, if you got what they have, would it make you happy? No. Because everything comes to us in God's own timing which is much better than anything we could ever plan. Sometimes we think we know what's best for us, we even kid our selves trying to believe a lie, just so we can look good so we can be in the same season as another person. But here's stark reality. You can't force the seasons of life, just as you cannot force the sun to rise or set. The seasons flow, from one day to the next. Their passing is gradual. That's the way I want my life to be like. I want my life to flow like music notes on a carefully formed piece of music, as I follow the master conductor, who directs all who look to him. I know the times I tried to play music on my own, it always ended in discord. I want my values, goals, dreams, desires, and ideals to be in harmony with the essence of who I am, and what God wants me to be, and in some small way, though my instrument is different, and the sound is unique, I'll be happy knowing that whatever part I had, dull, exciting, high, low, solo, trio, duet, I will have contributed, in my own small way to conductors carefully orchestrated music---and as a whole the sound will be beautiful.

Thinks I'll go get ready for a music program I have to do tomorrow.

Ecclesiastes 3

1To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

2A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

3A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

4A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

5A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

6A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

7A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

8A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

9What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?

10I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.

11He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.

12I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life.

13And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God.

14I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him.

15That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.

Year of Change. RIP 2010

2010-12-31T09:03:00.000-08:00

So, I suppose every blogger in the cyberspace world is going to be writing their new years goals and telling the world about the amazing things they are planning for the next year. Perhaps I'll do the same---if I deem it necessary. I mean, who wants to tell the entire world of their goals. It's bad enough when you fall short of your goal, and the devil on your shoulder jabs you with a fork, and yells, "told you you'd never make it." On the other hand, if the goal gets completed, you may enjoy the angel on your shoulder strumming your praises on her harp, while others who, weren't so lucky, inwardly hate you for actually reaching earth shaking accomplishments.

On a different note, feels like I've shirked my bloggers duty, skipping posting on Christmas and everything. I'm sure there are blogger rules out there that say you must post something very interesting every holiday, and every other day between. Hope the blogger police don't catch me and put me a cell. I'm sure capital punishment would be to put me in a dark cold cell with the command to write until my eyes fall out of my head, and my fingers turn bloody. Then again, commanding someone to write, and then giving them only a pen and no paper, would be pretty mean too.

Right now I'm in a rather reflective mood--as I always am when I blog. Weird huh?
Maybe I'm not really in a reflective mood at all. Truth be told, I'm sitting on the couch, buried in a nest of blankets, with my laptop on---well, my lap. My nose is red, raw and rosy = plugged, and my throat is scratchy, my face a ugly pale color, my hair his greasy, and altogether ugly from being ill and having my head pushed up against a pillow. I've got a pile of snot rags gathered around me large enough to help jump-start four or five camp fires. If someone set a match to the paper surrounding me, I'd literally be toast. Come to think of it, if I didn't know better, I'd tell someone to set it on fire, that way I'd end up as a burnt offering sacrifice to the Goddess of runny noses, so no one else could suffer sinus pressure. Morbid I know. :)

Now that you have seen that I'm really writing to you because I'm deathly sick, perhaps you'll want to leave. I mean, you can catch bugs on the computer. And we wouldn't want that. Wear a face mask if your worried. Or leave if you want. I'll only be offended for life. *Smiles sinisterly* :)

Oh, yeah. I was going to tell you about my Christmas. Okay. I'll tell you. Funny thing is, this year, my sisters and I spent oodles of time getting music programs ready for various peoples, meetings, and programs, so that I had zero time to do any Christmas shopping or baking. Thus I became one of those guilty persons Christmas shopping at the last minute. I felt very proud when I actually found the desired gifts I had been seeking, even though it looked like I was a totally thoughtless person, shopping for my wonderful family members the day before Christmas.

After I had finished my shopping ventures on Christmas eve, I started making orange cinnamon rolls at about 6:00. P.M. Somehow between 6 and and the wee hours of night, the Twilight Zone hijacked me. For I had nothing but trouble with those rolls. They refused to rise. They sat there, like bricks. Dead, lifeless, and not breathing. Very rude. So, I decided to make another batch, using some different yeast.

This time the new yeast my mom gave me turned into little round balls of millet, or something not normal. It smelled weird. So I threw it out. And started over again, while my mom tried to save my un-rising rolls with more yeast and flour.
To make a long story longer, my last batch of rolls sat there, also, like large pile of poo. Sorry, but there's no other way to describe it. So I gave up, and joined my family in trolling around our street, enjoying the Christmas lights, and reading our traditional Christmas story. Before I went to bed I made a special effort to ignore the un-rising pile poo, feeling rather depressed over my huge failure, I gave up the grandiose idea of having cinnamon rolls for breakfast---or even in this century, and went to bed. That is, if anyone can really go to bed on Christmas eve. It seems like no matter how old I get, I still can't really sleep on Christmas eve. It's like my subconscious still doesn't know there's a Santa, and it's trying to keep me half awake so I can catch him in the act.

But I must have slept, because the ghost of Christmas Present sprinkled his magic water on my "no longer pile of poo," Because the the dough had risen. What a nice Christmas present! Now, more fully in the Christmas Spirit, I turned on the radio, where the chipmunks were singing of their secret longing for hula hoops for Christmas. I feel sorry for the poor creatures. After all these years, nobody has bothered getting them something so simple. And I have so many hula hoops. Perhaps, I should send them a few.

After that, I spent the morning baking the cinnamon rolls, eating breakfast, and enjoying the whole spirit of Christmas that comes with everybody giving and receiving. For those interested, the cinnamon rolls were a success, after all. So don't be discouraged if at first you don't succeed.

For the rest of the day it was actually quiet for the most part. My brother and their family were going to come over for our Christmas feast---at least I think they were. I never can tell these days with most my family doing dinner with my dad...it's most...well...different. So, after we found out our brother and his family was too sick to come down, our feast turned into a Christmas nibble. Which means we all watched, "It's a wonderful life," while nibbling on the feast.

Then towards evening, the rest of my family showed up, which was nice, and weird, because it was the first Christmas I can remember not having our Christmas feast together as one big family. Towards night, my sister and I went to visit my dad and my grandparents. We sang them a few Christmas carols, and then we came home and finished the night playing card games with the family. Twas altogether a good Christmas, despite the fact that there is a huge rift in my family, that....well no one really speaks of.

Divorce is like that I guess, especially when people are hurting. But it is there, like a big obnoxious pinata hanging in the middle of the room that everybody is watching, swaying back and forth, pretending like it isn't there, but secretly waiting for the right time to swat it so that all the ugly details can come spilling out onto the floor. Truth is. I wish somebody would swat it. I'm not one for holding in what I'm thinking for too long. I'd rather my whole family just started communicating what they felt, face-to face. Not that you needed to read any of that. But hey. It's my blog. Read at your own risk.

On an entirely different note, I'm exited for the new year, and glad that it's coming to a close. Not that I think that this year hasn't been beneficial. I have learned some things I never thought I would learn, and for that I am thankful. Goodbye old 2010. I'll miss you. You've been a good friend through it all. My you rest in peace. I will always remember you as the year "of CHANGE," in every aspect of the word.
RIP

Here are some of the things I have learned this year. It's a long list, just so ya know.

1. Expect the unexpected! And even when you expect it, well, there will always be something even more unexpected to expect. So be happy anyway, and expect the best, because it's the best thing to expect.

2. Life goes on. Hurt, even the worst kind, does in fact heal, but slowly. You can't force it.

3. Trust once broken doesn't instantly come back. Trust to relationships is like oil to a car, if you don't constantly put oil in your relationship car, it will break. Once you've overheated your relationships, by forgetting to put oil in your car, it takes a lot to gain that trust again. Trust is in fact---in a way, greater than love. Or to put it more accurately, it is the highest form of love. You may love a person, but that does not you will ever trust them. Trust is something you earn. Not a right. It is something that is gained day by day, action by action, deed by deed. By being constant and reliable, in time of need, and in time of plenty. By being willing to be there for others when they need you. It means being willing to listen, to keep your promises. It means sacrifice, listening to others in a Christ-centered way.

I have always loved the example of Christ, when Mary comes to him crying, telling him that Lazarus is dead. He could have said so many other things at that moment. He could have judged her, and told her that he could heal Lazarus. He could have told her that he knew so much more than her about the situation. He could have accused her of not tending to his sickness in a better manner. He could have told her that he was busy. He could have told her not to worry because there is a afterlife. He could have told her not to cry, and to just have more faith. To not be such a baby, that he could raise him from the dead. He could have given her the typical man response of "hey I can fix you. I can fix this problem. I can go in there and bam---make him alive." But instead doing any of that, he weeps with her. That is one of my favorite scripture stories because of Christ's beautiful example for us in communication. Mary came to him with a problem, and he offered what? Comfort, an ear. He didn't disagree or agree with her. He wept with her. He didn't drown her with any of his own superior knowledge about the situation. He looked at her with compassion, and sympathized with her needs on a deeply intimate level, where he felt exactly what she was feeling---which was loss, and cried with her, even though he knew that Lazarus would soon be alive again.

So, I guess, what I'm trying to say, in a round about way is, that this year, I have learned many things about what it means when the scripture says, "And Jesus wept." I've learned that Christlike communication means to forsake your pride, knowledge, judgments, insecurities, our paradigm (the way we see the world) and what it really means to listen with love. That in itself is a huge deposit if your trying to build trust in a relationship. I'll admit, right now I have a huge problem trusting men. Not that you needed to know that either. But I do, and I suppose I should get over it. But hey, things like this take time.

4. Word of advice to single people/things I've learned from being in a singles ward. Have goals. Don't be in a hurry to jump on the marriage wagon just because the world says now is the time to be married. Be the type of person you are seeking. Be enthused about life. Have interests because it gives others the permission to do the same. Never rush into things. Date lots of people. Eternity is a long time, so don't be in a hurry. Have fun, and learn to relax, and above all, be happy right now. No one can make you happy. You can only share in each others happiness.

5. Sometimes, you have to believe in yourself when nobody else does. And sometimes you have to forgive yourself, and forgive others too, especially when they don't even know they hurt you.

6. Music has the power to bring about miracles, to heal, to brighten someones day, to bring back old memories, to inspire. Music breaks language barriers, and brings meaning to the simple ordinary things of life.

7. If you're going to go sledding down a canyon, watch out for bridges with ten feet drop offs. They can be dangerous.

8. If you're going to write a book, write it. It doesn't matter how long it takes you to complete it. It doesn't matter if others like it or don't. It matters that you believe in the story, that you love writing, that you sincerely believe you have something to say. It doesn't matter if agents turn down your work, or if editors have too many other books on their plate. What matters is you do what you love. That you write, and you keep on writing, because that's who you are.

9. Never keep your glasses on your lap wile eating in the car. They might end up on the road, smashed into small pieces.

10. Life is precious. Never take the small moments for granted. Show people you care for them right now. You may never get a second chance.

11. Sometimes even when you show people how much you care about them they might forget. They might use you. They might even forget you're there. Show them you care anyway.

12. Some people will only like you if you're doing what they think you should be doing. And even if you decide to do what they think you should be doing, they probably won't like you anyway, so why not stay true to yourself, and do what you know you should do.

13. Kids in preschool know lots more than adults do who've graduated from collage.

14. Puncture weeds hurt bare toes.

15. Wear appropriate swim gear when doing any sort of water activity, or you might end up embarrassed.

16. Too much Cyan pepper hurts.

17. When hiking through the snow, wear boots, not summer shoes.

18. Wind is a powerful force. Don't offer your mom to come wind running with you, holding a sheet. She might end up with a bloody knee.

19. When running a marathon, make sure you don't drink ice cold water. The side ache that will follow will be very painful.

20. Laughing is good medicine.

21. Don't drive a truck that pretty much has no breaks, on a hill, near a dumpster.

22. Don't touch the heater, and our light switch at the same time. Electrocution may follow.

23. You get always back what you put into something.

24. I've learned that caffeine, exciting movies, and rock, with loud speakers can be something very enjoyable. Yes. I'm a heathen I know.

25. It's fun to break paradigm barriers.

26. If you believe you have something good to offer the world, the world will believe you too.

27. There are things much worse in this life than the world coming to the end. Get over it. Live your life.

28. Dare, dream, and go after your goals. Nobody else can dream for you. Nobody else can touch the world in the way that you can.

29. Hobbits are real. King Arthur really had a round table. And fairies live in our backyard.

30. Things worth trying, doing, or being, will nine times out of ten, be ten times harder than you think to do, be, or become. But it will be worth it, if you stick to it, every time.

31. I can hula hoop on on my feet, nose, shoulders, elbows, neck, knees, and about everywhere else.

32. When tubing down a rapid river, makes sure you and your companions use tubes that are the appropriate size and shape. To do otherwise could be disastrous.

33. Don't pack hula hoops in a suitcase in an airport. It's bound to be searched.

34. Don't run with your cellphone poking out your coat pocket.

35. Goats will and can get tangled in anything and everything.

36. Never let others define who you are.

37. Grownups are just kids in grown up bodies.

38. Not all things are what they seem. But sometimes it seems like it.

39. Chewing saved up pieces of gum is gross. Just throw them away.

40. Be thankful in all things.

41. Give in anyway you can, to anybody you can. And give lots of real hugs. Touch is healing thing.

42.It's fun to have a secret place, even if it's in a corn patch, to be still and think.

43. Try new things. Stretch. Some things I thought were bad weren't as bad as I thought they were, and some good things aren't as good as I thought they were.

44. Always give someone a second chance, including yourself.

45. Round objects, such as volley balls, footballs, and Frisbees can nearly break ones nose, when thrown at high enough speeds.

46. Appliances are like teenagers. They like to go off together.

47. Smile, after you've eaten spinach.

48. When the toilet is starting to overflow, don't just stand there.

49. Girls bond through talking. Men through doing stuff.

50. Wash your pillow case if you have zits on one side of your face.

51. The goals we set for ourselves make us stretch, and grow. But it's journey towards those goals that truly defines us. It's the consistent, daily realignment of who we are and what we wish to be, with our true selves, that brings us joy. Not what we reach in the end, not this grand palace full of gold. It may bring us partial joy. But the real tangible beauty and joy is not what we get, but who we become in the end.

52. I write too much. I think I should go blow my nose. This is the longest post ever.

Live a life of gratitude

2010-11-25T23:18:00.000-08:00

This Thanksgiving has made me stop and rethink a lot of things.
Re-center if you will. Yesterday, and early this morning I wasn't very grateful. In fact, I was feeling as un-greatful and grumpy as a cactus patch. I guess it started out by me thinking of everybody who wasn't going to come to our house for Thanksgiving this year, via to my parents divorce, and things being awkward. That made me feel particularly blue. Poor me. Poor us. Poor everybody.

After that, it seemed like my day gradually grew worse. I got a headache, and I started feeling ungrateful for a hundred other things that weren't working the way I wanted them to. Then early this morning my grandma had another heart attack. Bam! Not good!! I love my grandma so much, and I haven't been visiting her as often as I would like. Thus I started inwardly beating myself up for all the things I wasn't. So I sat on the couch and cried.

After that, I kept on thinking to myself, "Hey, Steph, it is Thanksgiving. Duh! Why am I not giving thanks? I need to give thanks. Not only do I need to give thanks today, I need to live a life of thanks and gratitude everyday!"

Then the question of the day was, "How am I going to live of life of thanks?" As the day progressed, I started thinking about what gratitude really is, why it's so important, and what I need to do to live in Thanks.

I surmised that gratitude is much more than a word. It is a feeling so strong that when you genuinely feel gratitude, and abundance in your life, it shows in your countenance, in every aspect of your deeds, and it flows like water and gives freely to all those who surround you.
When you truly acknowledge the abundance God has blessed you with in your life, you no longer need to compare yourself to others, or feel as though you aren't or don't have enough, or that we will never measure up. Lack is a lie the devil cooked up! So don't partake. It's not very filling. And you'll always be hungry if you eat what he serves.

Once you start to look for God's hand in your life everything starts to change. His love for us is endless, our potential is eternal, his abundance is everlasting. With the Lord there will always be enough. His abundance will be reflected in our lives if we go to him in prayer, and remember to remember that he is and will always fill those empty spaces in our Thanksgiving feast. There will always, even in the most difficult circumstances, be something to be grateful for.

My challenge to you is to go about this next week (7 days) and try to acknowledge God's hand in your life---try to be thankful, even when things go wrong. See, for that short time, if anything in your life changes for the better. Try to acknowledge his hand in the little things, as well as the big things. Then before you go to bed each night, write ten things you are truly thankful for in your new (Thankful Notebook)

I'm taking the challenge, how about you?

This is my grateful list tonight

Tonight I'm grateful for the healing power of laughter.
For warm hugs!
For people who need me.
For the opportunity to sing and make music with my sisters.
For the long summers past I had with my grandma gardening with her, and talking about everything under the sun.
I'm grateful for time to reflect and recenter.
I'm grateful for happy secrets, and long talks in the night with my sisters.
I'm grateful for the seasons of the year, and what they teach of renewal and acceptance of change, growth and harmony.
I'm grateful for the snowdrifts, and the fun I have stepping into them.
I'm grateful for the fun it is to eat homemade huckleberry pie with my fingers.

My book!

2010-11-13T08:37:00.000-08:00

Just so ya all know. The reason why I haven't been posting on here is that I've been super busy.

But please note. I'm not all that heartless. So to make up for my lack of posting, I just wanted to all let you know that one of my books has been published! I've been pretty secretive about it for many reasons.

Reason number one:
I don't like being pestered about release dates and stuff of that nature. In the words of Michelangelo. I'll be done when I am finished, or something like that.

Reason number two, well...to be honest, I just wanted it to be a surprise. So are ya surprised?

Yep. *Happy dance* Fun stuff. Lots of work. I had to trim the book down from a HUGE (I mean really fat wordy manuscript into a thin little thing)
I suppose it went on the slim-slow diet. Cuz it wasn't fast getting down to size.

In order to slim it down I had to kill off several of my characters.
Then I had to change the ending. So it went from a sort of sad ending, to a happy one. From really scary characters---very involved book, to a pretty easy read, not so involved, much shorter, and a happy ending.

I think I would be safe to say that at I cut at least 200-300 plus pages.
Yeah. Really not cool. But sometimes even books have to loose weight.

Hmmm...what else do I need post on here. Oh, now I remember. My Book just got the look inside feature added to it! If anybody is curious about what it looks like on the inside, there ya go. :)
Oh, and if anybody is curious, yes I've got lots of my art illustrations all through the book.
It would make a good Christmas gift for people who like YA fiction or those who have kids at home and need a good family read aloud. If you are feeling the Christmas Spirit, and happen to like it, then tell your friends about it. If ya don't, well...then I guess you can go sit on a hump and eat stinkbugs.

Also, for you fantasy people. I'm working on my fantasy series. About a ex gardener who sets out to rid the world of the most deadliest of weeds. Some Organic, others cosmic, so stay tuned. Because this is my magnum opus.

Andrew And The Quest Of Orion's belt. Book one (Very exciting)
Rise of the forgotten star.

Book two
Andrew And The Quest Of Orion's Belt. (Even more exciting)
The Canvas War

Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt. (Very super exciting-ess)
The Last Summoning.

Note: these names are subject to change. I do not have these all finished, but I like to think that I'm getting closer.

So. Yeah. Go buy my book. You know you want too.

Cheers,

Just in case you were wondering, wishes do come true after all. Sometimes we just have to work a little harder to make it so.

Copy and paste this link into your browser to see my book, or click on the side thing-link on my blog. It should take you there. Still not sure how to work links in this here blog.
http://www.amazon.com/Flotsam-Stephanie-Skeem/dp/1453748970

Polar Bears under water

2010-10-15T14:42:00.000-07:00

So I Was at the Zoo in PA and I took this video. The kids screaming the background are a little annoying. But it's still pretty cool.

Have a great day.

Steph

Steph's hula hooping

2010-09-29T10:51:00.000-07:00

I was hooping this morning and noticed the nice shadow on the wall, so my mom got the camera and videoed a short bit. As you can see I only have a small window of space to hoop, thus my hooping tricks are VARY limited.
Someday I'll figure something out so I can actually get some neat tricks on camera.

Thanks for watching
*Cheers*

Funny! The yawning horse

2010-09-28T07:22:00.000-07:00

So I saw my sister's horse yawning one day, and I decided to give it corn every time it yawned. Everyday when I was milking the goats I would work with the horse. It's so funny. It sees me and starts to yawn. Guess I make her sleepy.

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE UNASHAMED —

2010-08-24T18:36:00.000-07:00

I read this and thought this was really good. Are you apart of the fellowship of the unashamed?

Mission Statement

—THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE UNASHAMED —

I AM A PART of the Fellowship of the Unashamed.
The die has been cast. The decision has been made. I have stepped over the line. I won’t look
back, let up, slow down, back away or be still.
My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is in God’s hands. I am
finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, the bare minimum, smooth
knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, mundane talking, frivolous living, selfish giving, and
dwarfed goals.
I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, applause, or popularity. I
don’t have to be right, first, the best, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live
by faith. I lean on Christ’s presence. I love with patience, live by prayer, and labor with the
power of God’s grace.
My face is set. My gait is fast, my goal is heaven. My road is narrow, my way is rough, my
companions are few, my Guide is reliable, and my mission is clear.
I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I
will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the
table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.
I won’t give up, shut up, let up or slow up until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid
up, and spoken up for the cause of Christ.
I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till He comes, give until I drop, speak out until all know,
and work until He stops me.
And when He returns for His own, He will have no difficulty recognizing me. My banner is
clear: I am a part of the Fellowship of the Unashamed.
Adapted from the original (author unknown) by Patrick Madrid

You Are Worth It

2010-06-12T17:47:00.000-07:00

Can you believe it? It's raining like crazy, and it's June, for crying out loud. If it keeps up, my little piece of the world may very well become a rain forest. (hope, hope)

I've been thinking a lot. Stressing a little too much, and feeling guilty for it. Life is so complex, and there are so many facets to life and relationships. Take for instance, this lady I worked for; let's call her, (The Red Queen of hearts) She even had red hair. To make a long story short, she worked me, worked me HARD, and then, when it came time to pay up, she looked at me with an, off with her head, look in her eyes and told me she couldn't pay me what I asked. Believe me, she could afford to pay me, and I had done a lot of hard work. What I asked was fare. However, she wouldn't budge.
I thought of lots of spunky, assertive things to say. I tried to go for a win win--a compromise. But instead, she intimidated me, and then she went for win loose. So, what did I do? I let her (proverbially of course) chop off my head. She won, I lost. Then she had the assumption that I was going to come and work for her again. No way was I going to go back, and be made to feel like my work was worthless.

It bothered me. A lot. I like looking for the good in people, and I'm sure this woman has many admirable qualities, but she is very lacking in other areas. Situations like these always put me in a sour mood. Perhaps I must further learn humility and forgiveness. Maybe I shouldn't be blogging about (The Red Queen Of Hearts) I don't know. Perhaps It has nothing to do with what I must learn, but perhaps something I must learn to be, instead.
Maybe I must learn to be assertive.
Learn to be kind---to a point--but(sharp)
Be a person who knows when to say, "No," because in saying no, to distractions, counterfeits, demeaning people, I am saying, "YES" to something much greater and better. Saying "YES" to the fact that I am worth something.

Seriously, no matter where you go on this world, there will be people who look nice at first glance--in all appearance queens with loving hearts, but when it comes time to pay the piper, you may find that the they are the queen of hearts only by default, and the only reason they possess such a name is that they rule with fear, not love.

So, when you find yourself before a queen, or king, who gives you that, off with your head, you smelly servant, look. Please know, in your own heart, that they can't tell you your worth, or see the greatness inside of you. You know exactly how much you are worth. Don't let their small words, and demeaning glances get to you.
You know you are worth it, even if they don't. No outward sign will ever prove to the world the greatness inside you. Oh, you'll do great things, and some people may remember them. And some people will forget them and think that your efforts are silly. Do great things anyway. Your deeds, words and actions are only a very small reflection of who you are on the inside. You are an amazing person. Always remember that, and let your words, actions, and thoughts reflect that message, and you will change lives.
You are worth it. You are amazing. You are great. You deserve it, whatever it is that you are seeking. Right now, this very second, you are every inch, loved, a hero, and a person with limitless potential for good. YOU ARE WORTH IT. There are so many messages in today's world that try to make you think that you are less than what you are, and when that happens, when you give in to those demeaning messages, you loose sight of that greatness, and stagnation happens. Push away the negative barriers, unlock the cell doors that bind you in, open the beautiful window of your mind and let in the light. Use your wings, even if your peers say that you don't have any. You do. You will fly. You will go places that they never dreamed of, and you will see things from a far greater perspective than you have ever been before. You will inspire others.

Below is a few videos that I came across that inspired me. I hope they will inspire you as well. I'm not sure how to get the videos to play from my blog, so I think you'll have to copy and paste the links to see them. They're really "WORTH IT."

Have a great day.
Steph

Motivational Video - Overcoming Adversity

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kGmjb9Qhzg&playnext_from=TL&videos=z29S-xJdQUg

Fun quotes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtQlWMhPcYc&playnext_from=TL&videos=6PMxAyQKEWs

Love this video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9IgTDLvRfY&playnext_from=TL&videos=gREyswTmTtU

Motivational Video Inspires Excellence

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEZ-xCKFQfQ&playnext_from=TL&videos=oVclB5MtT3k

Inspiring Authors

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4RFCuamrIc&feature=PlayList&p=967F5804D18CEEAB&playnext_from=PL&index=63

(Love it)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1h4rm57UIg&playnext_from=TL&videos=n0dMYSdrC6U

Ray Bradbury speaks about WRITING! (We are Put on earth to love being alive)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgkVNK6ViJk&playnext_from=TL&videos=6ixaslRTJWY

Literature (Beautiful)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCkmXAny5HQ&playnext_from=TL&videos=3KJ44ehUf0Q

All time favorite

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xeb9FeiEfsM&playnext_from=TL&videos=nmwctJKLvDA

Keep holding on
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4RFCuamrIc&feature=PlayList&p=967F5804D18CEEAB&playnext_from=PL&index=63

An Inspirational Video 1 (Chart your path)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEqdr_Awdak&feature=PlayList&p=967F5804D18CEEAB&playnext_from=PL&index=33

(Feel good song)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4RFCuamrIc&feature=PlayList&p=967F5804D18CEEAB&playnext_from=PL&index=63

Why I Love Mosquitoes

2010-06-03T23:06:00.000-07:00

My niece was with some neighbor kids, showing off our horse, trying to inform her friends all about our farm animals. She got on top of the fence, and patted the horse, then pointed to the horse's nose.
“K, guys,” she said, her big eyes shining, “see that really big nose hole there on the horse. Well, anyway, make sure you don't stick your finger up it because you'll get lots of really gross horse boogers on it."
It got me thinking that her extensive knowledge on this subject must have come from personal experience in the matter.

Then, at dinner, while she was eating her hot dog, she asked, “hot dogs are in the food group, right?”
I shrugged. “I guess so. But I think they should be in the junk food group.”
She looked at me and laughed. “No, silly. Hot dogs are in the meat food group. They’re also in the food pyramid, aren’t they?”
“You know about the food pyramid? Wow. Where did you learn about that, Preschool?”
“No, first grade.”
Gosh, kids are too smart for their own good.

Last one.

While I was playing on the trampoline, one of my nieces said, “I gots a mosquito bite. Want to see?”
She showed me the red bump, smiling the whole time as if it was a wonderful red jewel.
I made a face. “Ouch. I don’t like mosquito bites, they make me itchy.”
“I don’t itch dem.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope. I only itch it with my eyes. But sister itches hers with her fingers.”
“You itch them with your eyes?”
She nodded. “Yes. Look at it.” She traced the red bump lovingly. “It’s pretty cute.”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t look cute. Mean old mosquitoes. I hate them.”
She looked rather upset when I said this. “I don’t hate mosquitoes. I love dem mosquitoes.”
“Really? Why do you love mosquitoes?”
She smiled and laughed as if I was ignorant of some great knowledge. “Because Jesus made the mosquitoes.”
I looked at her dumbfounded. “Why do you think Jesus made the mosquitoes?”
“I don’t know, because he wanted to.”
After that, I stopped asking so many “stupid” questions, after all, Jesus made the mosquitoes. Who was I to hate the blood sucking monsters. Maybe he made them for a reason. Maybe our problems----the annoying little the 'mosquitoes' of life, that buzz in our ears, making us itchy uncomfortable, buzz into our life for a reason. Maybe as adults, we are not fully able to comprehend or understand the reasons why we have these ‘mosquitoes’ in our life. Maybe the only thing we can do is except that whatever 'swollen itchy bumps," we happen to acquire, are beautiful, because they are blessings in disguise. Wouldn't it be an awesome thing if we could learn love whatever comes into our lives; be it butterfly, mosquito, rude people, bad weather or stink bug days. Wouldn't it be a neat thing if we could just look at those little monsters and just say, I love them. Jesus knows best. Lessons from the young.

The Hiccuping Shopping Cart

2010-05-19T09:00:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about all the strange, funny things that happen in life. Me, myself, and I make a great team, when it comes to the humor department. I play terribly funny jokes on myself, without even knowing it.

Take for instance, the fact that when graced with a new idea, especially when it has to do with health, I'll usually try it, just to see if there is any interesting, happy results.

This strange habit of mine always gets me into interesting situations. For instance, yesterday, when I decided to try a new anti wrinkle concoction. (please note that most of my concoctions are very nice) But this one, was very unpleasant. I mixed up some clay powder, with a heaping tablespoon of cayenne pepper, some honey, and some Neem powder. I rubbed it all over my face, around my eyes, and down my neck, thinking that the heat from the cayenne was good for circulation a overall beauty and health.

The day before, I had tried the clay and cayenne, and it had felt okay---not too hot. I'm guessing that the clay from the day before dried out my skin, so that's why my experience was so000000oo0 very unpleasant. Two minutes passed before I felt my face and neck pulsing with heat. It felt like I'd put my face in a pan of boiling oil. I was rather irritated that my skin was being so sensitive today, so I figured that I just needed to leave it on a little bit longer and all would be well.
However it just got hotter, my nose started to run, and my eyes started watering so bad that I couldn't see. I ran to the tap and started scrubbing off all my wonderful facial. The more I scrubbed the hotter it got. My face became so bright red that you could have roasted bacon on it and still had room to fry a steak. Seriously. It was soooo hot! I put milk on my face, but that didn't help. So I butchered our aloe plant and smeared aloe juice on my face. After that, I went to the honey jar and plastered that on my face as well. Then I put some neem oil, which is great for burns, on my face. All in all, it took awhile for my face to simmer down, and I did not have to call the fire department to have them put out the fire on my face. Though, it crossed my mind.

Oh, and did I say that my mom, sister, and brother all laughed at me? But I don't blame them. I laughed at myself too. If you're wondering the status of my skin today? Well, the skin smooth and soft, and feels nice and firm. So maybe, (VERY BIG, CAUTIOUS, MAYBE) when I'm feeling the need to torture myself again....I'll brave the horrors of cayenne (only after I've moisturized my face veryyyyyyy heavily)

So that was one funny, horrible thing. Yeah, I know, I should be nice to myself. I thought I was being nice though. Second funny, when I went out to pick asparagus, in our ditch outback. It had started to drizzle, and the clouds overhead were looking very dark and nasty. But I pressed on anyway. Just as I got out there, the rain began to pour down in sheets, cats, dogs, geese, tigers, and elephants. I went ahead ignoring the downpour, through the mud, over rocks and hills. I wanted to prove to the rain, or whatever, that I was super woman, "The woman" who could travel though rain, mud, and wind to reach the goal. Nothing could stop me. The further I went, the more drenched I became. I had to get down in the muddy ditch to get asparagus, and got very muddy myself. The rain became more fierce, and pelted against my body trying to get me to go back home. Pretty soon, I could feel the wetness seeping into my underclothes. Not cool. When I reached the end of the ditch I decided to go back on the other side, where it was much more muddier, in hopes of finding more asparagus. As I went, I began to feel very dilapidated, and soggy. My shoes squeaked with water, and felt extremely heavy because of the huge logs of mud that kept building under their treads as I walked. Then, to my horror, I found that the bag I was putting the asparagus in had conveniently acquired a slit, so who knows how much hard-earned asparagus I had lost on the way. I stood there feeling like a pretty picture of a person. Soggy, cold, muddy, with a bag that had a hole in it. Nice, Steph, real nice. (funny?) not then. But now (yes) The things we do to prove to the rain that we are tough. (I mean really, does the rain care if I sit out in it all day) No. Just like mud doesn't care if I stand in it all day. Sometimes it's just better to wait until the sun comes out. Seriously.

Third funny,

Last weekend, my sister and I had a pity party, as we all do, when life just keeps on handing you onions. And when life hands you onions, you don't have any choice but to cry. However, when life hands you lemons, you can pucker, that's it, and possibly make some lemonade---if you have enough suger. Onions, on the other hand, can't be made into lemonade. That is, not unless you want onion juice. And I don't see how drinking onion juice can make anybody happy. Onions, can only be chopped up, stewed, and fried.

So my sister, having been handed an especially powerful 'Onion,' wanted to make the best of it, and we both went to town to forget our troubles and pick up some items at the grocery store for my mom. When we got to the store, I went to grab a cart, but my sister pulled one out before me, and so I took it, and away we went. Ca-chunk-ca-chunk-ca-chunk. The cart throttled its way down the isle like one ridden with palsy. It sounded worse than a washing machine that has been way overloaded.
We started to laugh. "We should put it back," my sister murmured.
I shook my head, getting that, 'We can trudge through the rain even if we don't have umbrellas---we can take any cart that's handed to us, even if it sounds like its having seizures," look. I guess I can be a sucker for punishment, but we kept the cart. As we went past other shoppers, where one usually nods very discreetly to the other shopper, that was no longer an option.
The cart-ca-chunked-ca-chunked so loudly that the other shoppers started to giggle, and we laughed. The cart let everyone know that we were there. The cart, though very handicapped, caused us to forget the truckload of onions waiting for us at home. We strolled through the store, with our sneezing, hiccuping cart, joking that perhaps the cart had a blood sugar drop, and needed some candy. However, we settled on filling the cart with strawberries, but the cart kept on hiccuping, letting the world know that, the 'Skeem' girls were taking their dear sweet time buying milk.
When we got to the checkout, the cashier, laughed and said, "oh you have THE CART," as if he knew the implications of pushing it around.
I giggled and said, "So you know about THE CART?"
He smiled and told me that he could hear us pushing "THE CART" a mile away.
I commented on the fact that it was a beast to push around.
He started to laugh. "Yeah, the cart got hit by a car, so that's why it's so noisy. should have let that hobo take it when he tried to wheel the cart away."
"A bum tried to take the cart?"
"Yeah, but I tackled him and got it back."
I smiled, thinking of a hobo trying to wheel off the noisy, handicapped cart, only to be tackled. Poor guy.

As I left the store with my sister, I thought of the cart---the broken cart that lurched like stick shift truck. I wondered what other stories were attached to the cart. Perhaps life is a lot like that cart. We all have different carts, some get get hit by cars, other get wheeled off by hobos, some don't get used, some are decorated with gold, silver and filled with riches, some are empty, and some get overused, but no matter what our circumstances, it's still up to us to make the best out of whatever 'cart' we get dealt with--hiccuping cart, or not. It's up to us to fill our cart with good things, and take out the bad things that other people put in it. Life is meant to be fun. Learn to laugh, even while pushing a cart with hiccups, a cart full of onions. What matters is that we keep pushing the cart. Eventually we'll get to the checkout and find that everything happens for a reason. Life is beautiful. Live it. Keep on pushing your cart.

The Magic Of Great Endings

2010-05-17T23:41:00.000-07:00

I'm an author who craves good endings. Constantly I am frustrated with books, movies and stories of all kinds that have endings that are too easily resolved. I detest endings that leave you feeling ripped off. I am a author who believes in the ‘Wave technique,’ yeah, sorry if you don’t know what that is, but it’s my terminology for bringing the reader to a magnificent peak, where the main character is brought face -to-face before his fears, before his enemies, battles them with great struggle, so much struggle that you can’t tell what’s going to happen, or if he will win in the end.

In a story, I want struggle, because that is what makes stories great. Then after the struggle, I want to be brought down to see what happens. Do they really live happily ever after? Will they be able to live normal lives after this? What do they do after the battle? If I create a relationship with a character I want to know these things. I don’t want to be suddenly cut off after the bad guy is dead. It’s really stupid! I hate that! That is one of my BIGGEST pet peeves! After investing so much time in writing a screenplay or book, why in the heck does the author or movie director cut off the ending without us letting us see the results of the main characters struggles. Sorry if you're not into details. As an author, I believe in letting a story settle. When you cast a stone into the water, you don’t just see the splash. You see the ripples. In a book, I want to see the ripples, I want to see the details. Not all the details, some details you can, and should leave up to the readers imagination. But why not put in the details that matter.

Good books are like friends. I don’t know about you, but when I create a friendship, one where I really care about the person, I want to know about their struggles, and the results of those struggles. So, in story telling, I believe that all truly good endings come in perfect time. Good ends are never forced, hurried, or even easy ones. Good ends are made GREAT because after all the hardship, all the struggle, there it stands, solid, beautiful, magical.

Good endings aren’t like the spark of a firework that blasts off and sparkles for a second, only to suddenly vanish. Good endings are like enchanting sunsets, that set slowly, softly, and subtly. Their coming is gradual, and it casts a spell over all who see it, and for that moment in time, people gaze up and are lifted, inspired, and brought to a higher plane of thought. That is what a good ending is like. That is what I love. That is the magic that good endings cast. They are truly rare. When you find one, hold onto it.

Truly Good Endings are the things legends are made of.

Daughters Of Beauty

2010-05-09T19:02:00.000-07:00

So I just got home from a long day at church. My mom, my sisters and myself, had the privilege of putting on a program for a ward that lives waaaay out yonder. The high councilman, our kind neighbor, Steve, also spoke. My sisters and I sang, and my mom talked. My sisters and I had to wake up early just to get ready for the meeting. We left the house about 8:30 A.M and sang in a branch that is about two or three hours away from my house---out in the middle of nowhere, and got back an hour or two ago. It's funny how traveling to a place much more desolate than where you live can make you appreciate where you do live. I know that where I live is VERY nowhereish but this place gets the grand prize for being the nothing of nowhere. There was miles of desert and sagebrush for far as the eye can see. Getting there was a long drive, and we got there even before the church had been unlocked. So we went for a stroll down the dusty roads. The ward was nice, and we had a good meal afterward. (I know that's not much description) but I'm tired. So suffice it to say that we came, we prayed, we sang, we ate, we laughed, and overall it was a good experience. I came home to check my email, and found that I had a awesome letter in my e-mail box, telling me that I had WON a 130 dollars worth of beauty products for an essay I had entered in a contest. I guess that not too long ago I entered a contest called Daughters of Beauty. Part of the entry process was to write a short story about a person that inspires you. Then I had to load a picture of myself, the person that inspires me, and a picture of what inspires me, (which is my sweet niece, Acacia) Then a beauty tip.

All in all, the contest wasn't that complicated, but I totally forgot that I had entered the contest. Surprisingly, I made it to the top ten, (which is pretty cool) considering all the other super awesome entries. Not to brag. But it made my day, as unexpected things tend to do. Just think, had I remembered, maybe I could have gotten all my facebook friends to vote me up to the grand prize. (what a fun thought) I think the prize was a vacation to some where cool, or something like that. Anywho, I'm really excited. If you wish to share in my bliss, you may click on the link below to see my winning entry.

Thanks so much

Have a great day

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your entry in the Elizabeth Arden “Daughters of Beauty” contest has selected
as one of the ten finalists and has earned the Honorable Mention prize.

K, so I had a friend tell me the link I just put on here to see my entry wasn't working right. So here goes again. Hope it works.

http://daughtersofbeauty.com/details?f=3#beauty20is20more20than20skin20deep

Tearwater Tea Moments

2010-05-02T23:42:00.000-07:00

I hope you all have read the Children's books of Frog and Toad, by Arnold Lobel. If you haven't you need to go check them out at your library.
I've always liked those simple little stories. Today I was thinking about one Frog and Toad story called, "Tearwater Tea." For some reason I really like that story. It's rather funny, but sad in a way. In the story Owl thinks of sad things so that he can fill his teapot with tears. It's funny because owl, at least in my perception, likes thinking of sad things, so he can cry. He seems to revel in the sadness, as if he enjoys it. He thinks of beautiful mornings that no-one will see because they are still asleep, spoons that have fallen behind the stove and are never seen again. Songs that cannot be sung because the words have been forgotten. Mashed potatoes that have been left on a plate because nobody wanted to eat them. He thinks of pencils that are too short to use, and so on.

The story sounds rather silly, but who isn't silly at times? Who doesn't feel sad, now and again. Tonight as I was having my Sunday, ritual star-gazing alone time with the sky, and I had what you might call a 'Tearwater Tea Moment,'

I wondered what the stars had witnessed throughout all the wars and all the centuries of troubles of this earth. I thought of a sad movie I'd watched. I wondered why so many sad things happen to people.
I thought of world war II, and the struggles innocent people on both sides had to endure.
I thought of all the lonely people in the world, and how sad it was.
I thought of all the hurting that must be going on throughout the world, and all the pain, and wished that somehow I could stop it. I marveled that the stars will still be here after I'm gone. I envied their steadiness and great beauty.

After long introspection, I cleared the sad thoughts away, and surmised that if love is one of the most powerful forces on earth, then I can do my part and be a loving person. Even though being the most loving person in the world won't take away the world's suffering masses, it might, perhaps, ease, at least, one person's pain. My kindness may not stop wars, but it might stop a fight. I may not solve the hate that so often stalks the word, and the greed, selfishness, and pride that make up half of the world's problems, but I can give what I can. I can be humble, and I can think of others before I think of myself.

I can make a difference. And so can you.

The stars are watching. What will you do?

Conversation With The Big Man Upstairs

2010-04-19T22:03:00.000-07:00

Dear blog,

I know you and I haven't had a chat in a while. So I guess we'll chat. A lot has happened since we last talked. My world has changed drastically. It's like someone blindsided me, and I'm just totally baffled.

It's like I woke up one morning, and God said, guess what, I'm going to take away your dad. Not only that, I'm going to take everything you've ever known and loved and I'm going to turn it upside down. Now howdah like that?"

And God's sitting there, rubbing his hands together, sayin, "Okay, Steph, now's your big chance. What are ya going to do with this whopper of a trial?"

And poor little Steph looks up, scratches her head, and says, "I don't get it? Is this some kind of joke. Because it's not really that funny?"

God looks down and says, "Well, maybe not. But I'm refining you, making you better."

Bewildered Steph raises her hands in confusion, "God, I thought that refined things were bad for you. Like sugar and that sort of thing. You know it's not all that healthy? Refined stuff causes cancer, and stress is not healthy, is it?"

God smiles. "Yes, you're right, refined things that man makes are very undesirable and corrupt. Their silly ways at playing God never work. When they could be following me, they seek to discover ways around me. But my ways are not your ways. Your refining isn't my kind of refining. When I refine, I make better. I make perfect. You understand?"

Steph shakes her head. "I don't know. I'm feeling pretty homogenized right now, and far from being better. God, it feels like your cooking me in the Microwave. How much longer do you want me to fry? I'm afraid if you leave me in here too long, I'm going to go up in a puff of smoke."

God laughs. "I don't microwave. I've use a really nifty a melting pot. When I'm through with you, there's going to be a lot more to you than just smoke. I'm thinking more on the line of Gold."

"You mean coal. It's black and sooty."

"No, G-O-L-D, as in shiny."

So when is this "gold" going to happen. I'm not feeling shiny. Feels like you hate me, like I hate me."

"Hate is a strong word."

"Yeah, I know."

"So why do you think I hate you. Why do you hate you?"

"Because you must think I've got some terrible flaws to put me through this. So others can't help but think the same thing."

"That's what Job's friends thought too. But they were wrong."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why then?"

"Why not?"

"Why not?! Why not? I'll tell you why, because it's lame. Everything was perfect before this came along."

"Really, your family was perfect?"

"Well, almost."

"Almost isn't perfect. And that's why."

"Gosh, your a perfectionist."

"I'm God. Can't help it. It's in the genes."

"In the genes?"

"Yes, and its in your genes too. You are my child, so you can't be content with imperfection. I want to make you perfect."

"I don't see how you're going to make me perfect with this trial, God. I mean, it seems like it's bringing out everybody's flaws, and everybody is just getting nasty and rude and mean, and those who are nice are getting hurt."

"My son was bruised for your transgressions, do you think you are above him?"

"No...but."

"But what? Trials will bring out the best in some, the worst in others. It's all apart of the refining process. You see, I can't fix things people hide. Like resentment, or unforgivness. Once those things are out in the open is when they can be fixed (in place) or fixed as in repaired."

"Funny reasoning."

"I thought you said it wasn't funny."

"Funny as in---strange."

"Thank you. My was are peculiar."

"Yeah, I agree."

"I'm glad you finally agree with me."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do."

"God, I just have one more question, I mean, since we're all agreeing and everything. Why do I feel so alone? Why don't people believe me? Haven't I been honest all my life? Haven't I tried to do my best with what you've given me? Why do I have to carry this load alone. Sometimes I just get so tired.

"I sent my son to this earth, and they didn't believe him either, and he was perfect.
He died on the cross, and I had to hide my face from him---he was alone, tired, and tempted. You have never been alone, and you never will be. My son took care of that so you wouldn't have to."

"God."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Your welcome."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"I'm always listening."

"You know those trials you were talking about?"

"Yeah. But I prefer to call them 'love notes,' because I send them to those I love."

"Well, after all this perfecting is completed, could you send those, 'love-notes,' you call trials, somewhere else. I mean, I'm feeling overly-loved."

"Gosh, I don't know. I love you lots."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Awe, you're just sayin that."

"No, I'm shouting it! No more love-letters. Not unless they're flowing with milk and honey."

"Oh, but they are."

"You have a very active imagination."

"So do you."

"If they were filled with milk and honey, how come I'm not drinking a glass of milk, and dipping my fingers into a sweet honey-jar, right now?"

"Perhaps, if you took a look around you, you would see the wonderful blessings I have heaped before you. They have always been there."

"Always?"

"Yep,"

"Gosh, I need a new pair of glasses. Hey, is that glass half full, or half empty?"

"Only you can answer that."

One of my hobbies Hoop-dancing

2010-04-19T21:55:00.000-07:00

My mom took a video of my shadow while I was hoop-dancing. So I thought I would share.

Copy and paste the link into your browser if you would like to take a peek.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZA2gG7JN4-g

My Book blog for those interested

2010-02-17T18:06:00.000-08:00

For those of who who are interested in learning more about my books, I just got my second blog up, with the cover blurb posted. You can visit my book blog at:
http://www.readaroundtheglobe.blogspot.com/
I write under the pen name of, Ivory Autumn, so don't be confused.

Visit often, there will be more to come.

Steph
Cheerio

Therein is your peace

2010-02-17T16:40:00.000-08:00

Life is funny. One moment you think you've got everything figured out, and the next, it's as if you've been handed a hot potato that you don't know what to do with.

I, as in me, the writer, have had my share of the unspeakable R word. That topped off with other stresses, have been eating away at me, grinding on me, to the point where I'm feeling a little thin, and in need of a pick up.

Big gasp. Cheerful Stephanie has problems too. It's funny to see how people deal with problems. Some talk, some eat, some trumpet their woes before the world. Some just deal with them quietly. Others fight it. Some except it, others try to make sense out of this messed up world, and do the best they can with what they've got. Some thank the Lord for their problems, while others curse him.

Once I had a someone tell me that I could never understand their awful problems, because I never had any, and was all so cheerful all the time.

That's when it hurts. I wish I was so fortunate as be perfectly perfect all the time. But seriously, Stephanie is human. And when I talk in the third person, I mean it. :)

Anywho, I thought, for the record, that I would write some of what I read that helped me feel a little better.

Excerpt from the book, "The power in Thank you---By T.T. Braun

Man is fickle. What he loves one moment, he may hate the next; that which he thinks will bring joy sometimes brings sorrow; his dreams can turn into nightmares, and that which stalks him in the night are the shadows of his own creation---man, the enigma. Life is unpredictable. Men plan, and the world revolves oblivious to men's plans and desires. Change is the only constant, and with it, comes pain and pleasure---life, the crucible. Considering man's world, consider this counsel: "Put your heart into it but don't set your heart upon it."

Set goals; work them; do your best; expect the best; but that's all; your part is done. Having done all you can do, be unconcerned with the results, the outcome. Do not even care what the outcome will be. After all, having done all you could do, there is nothing left you can do. Therein is your peace.

P-PLEASE

2010-02-04T22:26:00.001-08:00

Dear Santa,

I know it's not Christmas, nor will it be for a very long time. But I have one small request. If it's not too much trouble, could you ask your elves to publish my book? Or could you perhaps, ask the publishing fairy to sprinkle me and my book with magic, sparkly author-dust, gathered from the pages of all great books. I know you are very busy, and the kiddies need their toys, and the boys need their boats, and clocks need their ticks as well as their tocks---but if you have a small moment for me, I'd be most grateful.

I don't want much, just something simple will do. I promise I'll be a good girl all year, and forever and ever. I’ll even bake you cookies every evening, feed your reindeer, sweep your floors, shine your shoes, and make you homemade apple pie.

Luv Steph

Comment stealer

2010-02-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

Okay,

I'm really baffled. I got an e-mail today, from a friend, giving me a heads up about a couple comments they left on my blog, that had been removed. I'm not sure where their comments went. Nor did I get to read them before they vanished. It makes me feel rather left out, because the only posts I've been getting are written in Chinese. So if anybody can solve the mystery, and find out where the comments are vanishing off to, I'd be very happy to know. Besides, it's really nice to hear from my blog readers. So please, keep commenting, and eventually the greedy gut of Cyber-space shall cough them up. Promise. I hope.

Hope you all have a great day,

Steph

Wonderful ways for writers to stay fit

2010-01-22T15:17:00.000-08:00

Lets face it. Writing requires a lot of sitting. I mean, a lot.

Writing for a long time always makes me feel like a toadstool, cemented in place, ironically wishing that I could look as good as all the characters I write about.

So the question of the century is: how do writers stay fit? How do they honestly keep their spare tire from sprouting three or four more? How to they get rid of spare tires and make it so they don't have flabby necks, cramped wrists, and tired tushes?

As a fit fanatic, I tried many things to keep in shape, and this is what I found out.

First: chew lots of gum while you're writing. Not only does chewing gum help your neck to become toned. It's also great for toning the muscles you use when you sing. Spry is my first choice of gum. This gum has Xylitol in it, so it's very good for your teeth. Note, most name brand gums that contain fake sugars are bad for your health. Also sit ups are excellent for keeping your neck from becoming flabby.

Second. I noticed that I slump a lot when I write. So I did some research and found that exercise balls are great for your back while sitting at a desk, and they make wonderful computer chairs. I got one and love it. It's helped my back, and I find it useful to stretch out on after long hours of writing. You can also do sit ups on them, which is a lot easier for me than doing them on the hard ground.

Third: No matter what anyone says, you need to get your heart rate up to keep a healthy motab. It's hard to do this when you're a writer. Sitting is the name of the game. But it doesn't have to be. I've found that the answer to this lies in the simple circular object of the hula hoop. It's convenient and you can pick it up anytime you want. I know what you're thinking. It's a kids toy. I haven't hooped since I was twelve.

Well, I'm here to tell you that hooping is amazing, and once you start it, you'll be hooked. Research has shown that you can burn up to 600 or so calories by just hooping for a small amount of time.

It tones your core, helps you become more agile, and besides all that, it's fun. However, the first thing you need to know about hooping, is that most hula hoops you buy at the store are JUNK! Made in china crud. If you're like most adults, you need something a little heavier and sturdier.

If you're in the market to buy one, you can google: hoop dancing hoops, or sport hoops. If you don't like that idea, you can be like me and make your own hoop. If you don't like any of those ideas, I can make a hoop for or about 30 bugs+shipping. Yeah, it's a lot of money for a hoop. But it's worth it.

You're abs will love you for it. Sometimes I find hooping more energizing than a nap. Hooping is wonderful because you don't need to go outside to do it. You don't have to go to the gym. All you have to do is pick it up and swivel your hips, turn on some music and dance.

Oh yeah, one more thing. If your wrists are bothering you from typing, a copper bracelet works wonders. I wouldn't have believed it until I put one on. Now I can't take it off. It really does help.

Until next time.

Steph

One of these days, when I'm feeling especially nice, I'll get up a video of some hoop dancing I've done. Someday I hope to have my own little space in which teach hoop dancing, not only to kids, but adults.

The ancient ones.

2009-11-07T11:30:00.000-08:00

I went to a trip in the mountains and found a beautiful spot of ground covered with trees that have given up the ghost.

Old wood has always fascinated me. There's something that tingles inside me every time I see an old tree, naked of leaves, its beautiful twisted branches exposed to the weather. It's like looking at hard twisted taffy---only tree-sized.

How I start my day. The Milking Hour

2009-10-16T12:07:00.000-07:00

Feeling like a Zucchini

2009-10-15T21:25:00.000-07:00

Dear blog,

I'm feeling like a zucchini today. Weird. Yeah, I know. The phrase, "Going Green" now has new meaning.

Some say that they may feel like a potato, squash, pumpkin, or raisin. But because I'm so unique, I'm feeling like zucchini.

What does a zucchini feel like? Well that's a very good question. First, a zucchini feels like a long, green, spindly thing. They are cool, and they make awesome bread.

Not that I'm really that cool. But everything I'm doing seems like it's taking a loooong time.

Since I'm feeling like a cucumber---no a zucchini how about I give some Zucchini advice. *Anybody feeling like they've been transported into Veggie tales?*

~Zucchini Writer Advice~

1. Enjoy the moment.
2. Laugh a lot.
3. Listen to conversations and record them in your mind.
4. Absorb the beauty of life, then write about it.
5. Take time off.
6. Love your writing like a jogger likes exercise. Joggers don't just jog because it helps them loose weight---it helps them keep balance.
7. Be persistent, and patient.
8. Listen to good music.
9. Set writing goals.
10. Look for the good in your life, your writing, and those around you.
11. Chew gum---it helps thoughts flow more freely.
12. When in need of inspiration, sit still and watch the world, the sky, and humanity.
13. Remember that all great writers once started out just as unknown as you.
14. Rejoice when others succeed.
15. Remember if you write, write, write, you can never be wrong.

Pumpkin Patch Sky

2009-10-14T21:00:00.000-07:00

October's here folks. Feels like October, smells like October, looks like October. Heck, it even sounds like October.

A yellow watermelon. What my mom grew in her garden this year.

2009-10-12T13:18:00.000-07:00

My mom grew a yellow watermelon! Weird, yes? The funny thing was that even though that yellow watermelon was still a watermelon, to me, it didn't taste the same as a red watermelon. However, I did avoid the strange banana flavor, as I closed my eyes and bit down. Magically the watermelon tasted just like any other watermelon.

This experiment alone tells me that sight plays a *huge* roll on influence. It's rather a scary thought. It makes me wonder how much we judge just by sight. What things could we be missing out on because we think it looks weird? What books would we have read? What people would we have met? What opportunities were missed because of our limited paradigm?

The Twlight Zone---continued

2009-10-09T22:41:00.000-07:00

I give you one Stephanie Skeem, who noticed a bowl of pears that looked very mushy ripe, so ripe that clouds of fruit flies hovered around it, making it hard for Stephanie to see the fruit.
She surmised that she should rescue the pears from the greedy fruit flies and put an end to their feast days. She carefully chopped up the pears, and put a bag of frozen peaches in the blender, along with some milk. The end result was a wonderful fruity-tootie. It tasted heavenly. Stephanie was very glad she had gone through the effort to salvage the pears from the onslaught of fruit flies.

However, little did she know that the shadowy figure of the Twilight Zone had again been stalking her.

For it wasn't long until Stephanie put a spoonful of the fruitie tootie to her lips that she started rolling a lumpy thing around in her mouth. Perplexed, she spat the lumpy thing out and stared at it. It was rather long, mushy, and white, and it wiggled.

Stephanie let out a scream, feeling the clutches of the Twilight zone squeeze her throat. It was happening again. The Twilight zone had changed her fruity tootie into a fruity-fly Maggot fest.

Until next time....

The Twilight Zone.

The Twlight Zone

2009-10-09T08:39:00.001-07:00

Welcome to the place between reality and dreaming, a place where time drips along, and the space between that dripping time, freezes, cracks, and then turns into something much different from what you or I know. Welcome to the Twilight Zone.

I give you one, Stephanie Skeem, who, on the cold day of 8th of October 09, awoke, just like any normal day and smiled at the cold world outside her window. However that smile would have turned into a worried glance, had she had known that the Twilight Zone was stalking her.
With no premonition of what was in store for her, she went about her day, only to find that her cocktail, a bird that she had since she was very young, was unhappy in his cage. Without thinking of the consequences, she opened this cage just like she did every morning.
After that, Stephanie went about her work, thinking little of her bird. That is, until that evening, when she found his cage missing.
Upset, Stephanie searched the house, calling out, the bird’s name. However there was no trace of the missing bird. Stephanie retraced her steps, checked inside the toilets, to make sure that her bird hadn’t drowned. She even called her nieces and nephews who’d been visited that day. But no, they had no information on the missing bird.
Not knowing what else to do, the frustrated detective, Stephanie, interviewed a key person in her household, only to find that the back door of the house had been open almost all day.
Horrible thoughts raced through Stephanie’s mind as she thought of the possibilities. Perhaps her bird had flown outside, and would freeze in the cold that night. Perhaps her two cats, who were known to sometimes slip through open doors, had found the bird, eaten him, and buried the feathers!
Stephanie rushed outside, whistling catcalls to her bird, while unsuspecting neighbors wondered if the girl, running around her house, was really trying to flatter them in their old age.
After making several rounds of her house and inspecting every tree, Stephanie gave up and went back inside. But she did not give up. She rushed back outside, suspecting the worse. She scanned the grass for traces of her birds remains.
It was dark, cold, and a cool wind chilled her spine. She shivered and looked over her shoulder, feeling someone’s eyes upon her. Seeing nothing, she turned back and inspected the ground, never knowing that the dark eyes of the (The Twilight Zone) were upon her.
Then it happened. Stephanie let out a shrill scream, knelt in the grass and picked up a slender gray wing, in morbid horror. Her eyes widened as she picked up another wing, and a long tail, quite dismembered from the rest of its body.
She stood up with the pieces of her bird’s body in her cold hands, turned her back on the terrible massacre, and ran into the house.
The dark figure of the Twilight Zone followed at a safe distance, snickering.
Once inside, Stephanie showed her family the remains of her beloved bird, Tweedy. While members of her family mourned over the loss of their pet, and stroked the poor bird's feathers, a shrill shriek was heard from the other room.
Stephanie ran to see what was wrong. It was then that she saw it, her bird, perched on a picture frame. ALIVE! She glanced at the feathers in her hands with eyes wide. Her bird had resurrected itself! Or so she thought.
Behind her, the Twilight Zone smiled a sly smile, and turned away, having many more people to perplex and disturb that night. After all, what would the world be like without him? He being the personage who holds the answer to all the strange oddities, perplexities, and mysteries of the world, in his bizarre hands.

What's really going to take over the world. (GOATS)

2009-10-08T15:16:00.000-07:00

I milk goats. Don't ask me why. Maybe it's because my family loves to drink the milk. Maybe it's because I'm crazy. Perhaps you also milk a goat. *Cheers!* I feel for you. But for those of you who haven't, let me enlighten you an the joys of milking a goat. Oh, and can you believe it. I have a goat reading this post over my shoulder, and she's agreed to give me some pointers for this post. (oh goody)
First, goats goatonalities are very weird. Their eyes are horizontal as a sign of no heartbeat, I presume.
"Baaa," I interject! The above information is not true. You're dissing on me and every other goat on the planet."
Sorry. But the truth hurts.
"My horns do too!"
Ouch! Be nice.
"Too late."
Yeah, I kinda figured that out.
"So are you going to go on with his analysis of my kind, or what?"
Yeah, but easy on the horns, or I'll write something really nasty about you.
"Go ahead. I'm a perfect lamb."
I wish.
"I'm waiting."
Oh, alright. Where was I?
"You were going to tell our audience about the most important thing to goats."
Ha. That's obvious. But, for those of you who don't know, the number one thing that matters most in a goats life is---can you guess? IS FOOD, FOOD. Food! Correct?
"Well...I am a little hungry."
And the second most important thing is, drum roll please---yes, you've guessed it. More food.
"I'm still hungry!"
The third most important thing to a goat is getting to that food no matter what obstacle is in the way, even if it means plowing over helpless persons that may stand in their way.
"Are you referring to the time that I ran you over because you were holding a grain bucket. That wasn't so bad. I mean you only had a couple broken ribs. That wasn't a big deal, was it?"
No comment.
"HUH?"
Do you want to finish this or not?
"Sure, but..."
Okay, the forth most important thing to a goat is making sure that they are the only creature in the desired radius of their food pile. If you happen to near their food pile, watch out!
"Aint that the truth!"
Fifth most important thing to a goat, is making new ways to escape their abode so that they can cover the world and eat everything in sight like NANOBUGS.
"Nanobugs?"
Yes, nanobugs. Goats are the real live nanobugs (with horns) and much scarier.
"Wow. I'm flattered."
Sixth, once discovering the weakness in their abode, goats will take great pains to make the hole bigger. When that hole is repaired, they will work very hard to make new portals in which to escape, so that whatever the evil people do to fix their exit ways, their puny efforts will never be enough to keep them from getting to their food.
"Hah. I'm glad you don't know about the portal I just made the other day. You'll never find out. PSST, don't tell her, but we goats really have wings. Flying over fences is much easier.
The Seventh most important thing to a goat is to create a world where people are ruled by goats. So much so that humans lives are dominated by their existence. Their aim is to make every waking thought of the humans to be for them. They do this by morphing horned heads into small spaces, and then pretending that they are stuck, and starving, so that the humans will have to rescue them over and over again. Even during milking time they struggle to accomplish their evil designs. They make the ritual milking hour expand into hours by being impossible to catch. They kick, and put hooves in the milk. They poop on the milk stand. Kick whenever humans wear anything different. They make sure to run away whenever they want you. They never come to be milked unless it is known that the humans have previously put corn in feeder. They make all sorts of strange, howling noises, and bleating, all day and all night so that the humans will know that they are here, always here!
"Yes, I am. I'm glad you finally noticed me. Your hair tastes weird---like shampoo."
Thanks! I love bald patches on my scalp. Please refrain from chewing on what little hair I have left!
"Gosh, I thought you look good that way. Funny, I just noticed your wordy description of our evil designs. Taking over the world---that makes us sound pretty bold. And looky here, we get a whole blog post about us. It may be that we will be able to accomplish that goal."
I wasn't meaning to encourage you.
"Goats need no encouragement. WE live where none dare live. WE eat what none dare eat. We climb to heights where none dare climb. The world my hate us, the bible may talk bad of us. But we will still be here, after the fire, rain, flood, lightening, and earthquakes. We will still be here. You cannot ignore us."
Oh yeah? Well, I sure am.
"Hah, that's good because I just ate a piece of your manuscript."

Signed,
bAAaaaad. Goats.

Just your friendly neighborhood library

2009-09-24T19:57:00.000-07:00

I got in some good library time today. I wanted to get some good self-editing books, and something inspiring to read. As I walked down the rows of books, I couldn't help but marvel at the amount of knowledge we have at our fingertips. Standing next to a row of great books and reading their titles, gives me a satisfied, comfortable feeling, like I'm looking at beautiful photographs of people I once knew and really miss.

*Is that weird or what?* Seriously, when I'm old and gray, some kid will come up to me in the library and ask why I'm weeping over Tennyson, and I'll look up and say, "Oh, I'm just laying ole Tenny to rest."

**Sentimental**

I've always loved libraries. What's not to like? They seem so mature and sensible, like a place where one can be quiet and reflect. Is it sacrilegious to say that libraries seem almost like the inside of a church? There's definitely a resemblance. Perhaps the connection has something more do with the fact that many of the books in the library are about amazing people. Then again, on the other hand, there are books about people exactly the opposite.

Still, I can't help but love the satisfied quiet of the library. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that all good beginnings are there---as with the endings. Maybe that fact alone gives the unsure people, like me, the feeling that our endings, whatever they are, will be good ones.

2009-09-22T07:33:00.000-07:00

So, I was going to wake up at five and get started writing. Strangely, it didn't happen. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I put the alarm clock in the perfect place where my hand, acting apart from my logical brain, lazily reached over and put a stop to its lamentations. Seriously, why, why, why, do we do that? It's as if the hand wants sleep more than the rest of our body does. Last time I checked, my hand doesn't yawn, have to keep its eyes open, or go jogging.

Anybody have an answer to that one?

Autumn Tang

2009-09-20T17:37:00.000-07:00

A fall "tang" is in the air. Anybody feeling melancholy yet? It's as if September comes and kidnaps the youthful feeling of summer, leaving a vacant, cold, empty spot where it used to reside.

I've been feeling this, "tang" for a few days now. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it's getting colder, that subtle oranges are taking over greens. Maybe it's because I no longer wake up to the sounds of birds, and watch as they nest in the trees, because they have all gone off to warmer climates. Even the children have been whisked away to school, leaving their yards in a somber solitude. The tang is very bittersweet. It is quiet, not loud. Its whisper is cool, like a cold wind blowing off of the ocean.

Anybody else feel it?

The GREAT and GRAND Beginning

2009-09-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

My best, and first post---so far.

Thus begins the start of my blogging days. Random thought---has anyone thought about how weird the word, "blog" is? It sounds like a term used in the game Balderdash. If I heard the word, and didn't know what it meant, this is what I'd say it was: A term used when a redneck wanted to take a bath. "I'm pretty dirty from working the fields. I better go take a blog. Get squeaky clean. Don't know what I'd do without my daily blog."

Why blog? It sounds like dog, hog, smog, fog, log.

Hopefully my blog is better than smog.

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"If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it." - Toni Morrison