In Other News ~ On the Writing Front

We interrupt this unsteady stream of postcards for a bit of other news.

Awhile back, I blogged about twin sister and I ending up in the same Chicken Soup title, having no idea that the other one had submitted a story. This book is for writers of all sorts, so that made it extra special.

The folks at Chicken Soup were intrigued by the novelty of having identical twin contributors in the Chicken Soup for the Soul Inspiration for Writers and decided to do a feature about it in their contributor’s communiqué for the month of May.

They asked for a photo of us together with the book, so off we went to comply. As you can see, we attempted to do Texas proud and donned our cowboy/cowgirl hats for the photo shoot. We’re wearing boots, too, for the record.

Anyway, these books were released in stores nationwide yesterday and contain some great inspirational stories for writers and for those who want to write. You can also order online, of course.

And speaking of writing, I was deeply honored and humbled (putting it mildly) to receive my second Amy Writing Award a few weeks ago, this time for my work in the Beaumont Enterprise. 

If you aren’t familiar with TheAmy Foundation, it is a wonderful organization that recognizes Christian writing in secular publications. Any organization that gives out cash prizes, annually, to writers who present biblical truths, reinforced with Scripture, in a secular publication has my vote. Again, I am so humbled and honored (speechless is more like it) to be one of 15 writers rewarded in this way for the year 2012. To God be the glory! For a list of winners, you can visit the foundation's website.

Until next time, dear friends, stay tuned for a Chicken Soup book giveaway coming soon, both here and on twin sister's blog. Woo-Hoo! 

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Before we go ... the ocean called

Before turning Cloud Nine toward home, the ramblers rambled on down to the beautiful Perdido Key area for a few days. We came here with our daughter about 13 years ago, so lots of memories.

 

Truth is I’ve been homesick for awhile now (concerned about this and that and the other, and missing people), but I’ve hung in there and I’m glad I did.

 

There’s nothing quite like the sounds and sights of the ocean to calm the mind and refresh the spirit. The sea brings with it a steadfastness that can be counted on, just like the faithfulness of its Creator. It’s one of those eternal truths. No matter what month, what day, what year you travel to the ocean, you know it will be there, pounding, crashing, emptying its bounty onto the shore. I’ve spent my life loving the beach, and I never leave it feeling quite the same.

 

As I write, the sun is sinking in an amber glow behind a band of pine trees, leaving the campground shady and still. The Man has two steaks sizzling on the grill and I can smell their goodness through the screened window. Later, there'll be coffee and a slice of key lime pie (being reasonable can come later), and, who knows? If I get inspired I may just scrapbook my way into the night; I'm only a year behind.

 

Until next time, dear friends, my thoughts and prayers are with the people of Moore, Oklahoma, as I'm sure yours are. I have wept while watching the devastation that goes beyond comprehension. I'm praying for God's comfort and strength to lift up those whose lives have been wrecked, and for those who are offering time and energy to bring recovery and restoration.

 

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Postcards from the Road ~ Stone Mountain, Georgia

Yesterday, Cloud Nine pulled into Stone Mountain Park Campground, along the banks of Stone Mountain Lake, in Stone Mountain, Georgia, about 25 miles from Atlanta. This has to be one of the most beautiful, peaceful campgrounds we’ve ever encountered. It’s more like a state park, but on a grander scale. 

Our stay here will be brief, but memorable. We plan to attend a Braves game tonight (checking off another MLB park from The Man's list), then leave here tomorrow morning, Lord willing.

After we got set up yesterday, we put on our adventure shoes and explored the peak of Stone Mountain. We decided not to join the climbers (as in I would have needed oxygen to get to the top), but took the easy way up and down, via tram. It felt like you were sitting on top of the world. The views are amazing! If you look closely, you can see Atlanta in the background.

One side of Stone Mountain has fabulous carvings of Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and Jefferson Davis. The grounds all around are immaculate.

There are plenty of family activities in this area, and if you're looking for a place to take the kiddos camping, I highly recommend Stone Mountain Park.

Until next time, sweet friends, keep on trucking.

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Postcards from the Road ~ What We Did Tuesday

Our plan was to take a horse-drawn carriage tour of Charleston yesterday, and we drove into town expecting to do so. But, as it turned out, we didn't. (That gives us another good reason to return to this area one day.) The Man wasn’t feeling 100%, and since the carriage companies were booked, one tour right after the other, they were packing them on four people to a seat—very tight quarters for someone still coughing and sneezing occasionally. We both felt it would be best to wait. (This photo was taken from one of the carriage companies' website.)

But we weren’t about to waste our final day in Charleston, so guess where we went? The library! It was quiet, quaint, peaceful, relaxing, and I could have stayed there until closing time, browsing through magazines, newspapers, and books. No matter what city we're in, the library is one of our favorite places to visit. For real.

From there, we went and had lunch at a place called Sticky Fingers, recommended by The Man’s brother for their BBQ ribs. The Man and I shared a combo plate of ribs and a pulled-pork sandwich. Yummy food, and the peach cobbler, scrumptious!

After lunch, my widening girth was screaming for relief, so The Man drove me to the Tanger Outlet Mall and turned me loose. Nothing like retail therapy to make you forget that your muffin-top has grown into a full-fledged loaf of bread, which I am artfully hiding in the photo above, thank you Michael Kors.

Later in the afternoon, I ambled around the campground, photographing the amazing roses growing throughout the grounds. They had mesmerized me since arriving. Every color you can think of. Simply magnificent! I don’t know that I’ve ever seen any roses more lovely than these, right out of the camera. Have you?

There is a peacefulness that comes in the evenings for campers. All of the day’s activities are done. After lingering outdoors a spell, if the weather is nice, you step inside and watch through the windows as the light fades.

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This morning, we were up and at ‘em bright and early, breaking camp and waving goodbye to a charming city. So long, Charleston. We hope to visit you again.

As we rolled down the highway through a blue Carolina sky, I thanked the Lord for this opportunity, and for a seasoned chauffeur who makes everything in my world better.

We're often asked how Diesel does on long trips. His least favorite part of traveling is the moving part, but he does well and naps whenever he can. He's a good boy.

As I write, we are tucked in for the night in a quiet little camping spot in Augusta, Georgia, a place The Man drools over during The Masters golf tournament every year. Sadly, the golf course is closed to the public (unless you’re attending The Masters), and we were told you can’t even get close enough to the course to take a photo. Oh well, those are the breaks. Maybe one of these years The Man can be an attendee.

Lord willing, we will hit the road again tomorrow, aiming for Stone Mountain, where we plan to spend a few days. After that, who knows? In the words of Lao Tzu, "A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving."

To all of you lovely kindred spirits who have stopped by and left thoughtful and/or helpful comments, your kindness warms my heart and makes me smile. And speaking of kindred spirits, I happened to notice today that I have lost a few somewhere along the way. It's something I don't pay much attention to, but I surely hope I've not offended anyone. My sincere apologies if I have.

Until next time, sweet friends, press on.

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Postcards from the Road ~ Charleston, South Carolina

Well, dear friends, I admit I’ve been a failure as a travel blogger this time around. Condé Nast will not be sending me a check, that is clear. Not that they ever do, but you get my drift.

Truth is, we’ve not done much since I last posted from Auburn, Alabama. After leaving Auburn, we drove to Charleston, South Carolina (neither of us had ever been anywhere in South Carolina) and that’s where we currently are as I write. Charleston is an old, charming Southern city (founded in 1670), lots of character and very narrow streets  (some cobblestone) in the historic downtown area.

The Man has only today felt significantly better, so that’s a blessing, and thank you for your prayers. We went out exploring on our own, as we generally do, but plan to take a horse-carriage tour tomorrow, as it seems to be the thing to do.

Here are some highlights from today, if you’re interested:

Twin sister reminded me of a popular restaurant here called Husk, whose executive chef, Sean Brock, has won a James Beard Award and competed on Food Network. Husk has been cited in many food magazines and I wanted to see what the hoopla was all about. In short, Husk is a celebration of Southern ingredients, with a modern twist. 

We preferred dinner reservations, but, hello, those are not available until June, if that tells you anything about the popularity of Husk, so we made reservations for lunch today. (Pardon the hair ... the wind was blowing every which way.)

We arrived a few minutes early and enjoyed sitting on the shady porch. Once seated, service was quick and efficient, and the food was divine!

Here’s what we had, text taken directly from the menu:

I had the "South Carolina Shrimp and Geechie Boy Grits with Smoked Tomato, Peppers and Onions, Sweet Peas, Smoky Sausage, 63° Egg." (I couldn't resist taking a photo, as you can see. Yum-O!)

I didn't take a photo of The Man's man plate, but, in addition to an arugula salad, he had the "North Carolina Cornmeal Dusted Catfish with Fried Cabbage, Smoky Beans and Appalachian Tomato Gravy."

To read more about this restaurant, visit their website here.

***

After lunch, we boarded a boat named Carolina Queen (with a real paddlewheel) and took a 90-minute tour of the Charleston Harbor. Very relaxing way to spend the afternoon.

Tomorrow, Lord willing, we will spend our final day in Charleston. Our original plan was to go to Myrtle Beach from here, but after spending some time on the Internet, reading pros and cons, the cons have won. Nothing against Myrtle Beach, or its inhabitants, but if I’m going to the beach I may as well go to ones that I know and love and have experienced many times. I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to my beaches.

So … from here, we will probably head toward Atlanta, where we will get our first glimpse at the Atlanta Braves’ Turner Field. As was planned since The Man’s retirement in 2008, the MLB parks are being checked off the list, one by one. I think we’re only about five shy of seeing them all!

I’m happy for him and am glad I enjoy baseball. Of course, even if I didn’t, just being with him, seeing him realize a lifelong dream, has been a joy and a blessing.

Our plans after Atlanta are still sketchy, but the girl is getting homesick (believe it or not), so we may well start the homeward stretch. Time will tell.

Until next time, thanks for keeping me company, as always.

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Postcards from the Road ~ Wild Gifts

Before we left home, I promised myself that this trip would find me paying close attention to the small and ordinary things, because, as we all know, they are the big things.

I like to believe that I notice the small gifts that every day offers—but days can get away from you, and by sundown, you realize you’ve spent most of your time and energy focused on the frivolous and unimportant.

I said all that to say this. The last two nights have found Cloud Nine parked in a lovely camping spot in Auburn, Alabama. 

Outside our door, a patchy slope shows off purple and yellow wildflowers, while a fence runs around the property in a steady white line. 

Normally, we wouldn’t stay two nights in a place that wasn’t on our radar, so to speak, but The Man hasn’t felt well the last few days, so we were thankful to find a nice place to settle into for a couple days.

This morning, I left to run a few errands—post office, drug store, that sort of thing—and when I returned, I stopped to take a photo of the wildflowers out front, admiring their unruly beauty.

Intent on cutting a few stems to take inside, I stepped in the RV to grab a pair of scissors, and that’s when my eye caught sight of something on the counter.

The Man—my ailing, wonderful man—had beat me to it. There, in front of the kitchen window, sat a cup overflowing with purple and yellow abundance. Simple, ordinary wildflowers—my gift of the day.

Until next time, sweet friends, seek out the simple, ordinary gifts in your day, and thanks for keeping me company here, and for sharing this journey with me. It means a lot.

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Postcards from the Road ~ Music, Friends, Food

The retirees left home Wednesday and stayed in the Dallas-Fort Worth area until today, when we pulled out and headed east. The Man and I have fond memories of the DFW area, from when twin sister lived there for 20 years, and we always enjoy returning.

Here are some highlights:

We attended the Gaither Fest concerts at the Ft. Worth Convention Center (amazing concerts, by the way, more like a church service).

As we were just getting into the convention center, I heard someone calling my name and did a happy dance when I saw it was my old friend, Anne. Anne and I have known each other since before marriage, and the odd thing is, we both live in the Houston area and yet we haven’t seen each other in a long time—as in years. But we came to a concert in another city and had a reunion. We've vowed to get together again after I get back home.

As you can see, Diesel is living the life of a spoiled dog. Nothing new there.

Sunday afternoon, we attended a Texas Ranger game and nearly froze to death.

This photo was taken from our seats. We were, literally, on the top row (no other seats to be found).

Sitting in the shade, with a cold north wind blowing hard on our necks the whole time, made us thankful we brought a blanket and hoodies. Our whole row looked like a line of Eskimos. The Rangers won, so yay!

On a side note, we planned to visit the just-opened George W. Bush Presidential Center, and drove there one day (on the gorgeous SMU campus), but it was quite cold, the line was down the street, and the wind doing about 30 mph that day. So, we decided to try another day, but when The Man got online to see about tickets, the time-frame we needed was not available. Ugh! We will plan to return another time.

As for this slice of pizza, it may well be the best pizza I ever ate. White cheeses, chicken, spinach, mushrooms, a truffle béchamel sauce,  and a balsamic reduction. Yeah, baby. It came from a place called The Nodding Donkey, close to the SMU campus.

Until next time, sweet peeps, I am keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.

And So We Go ...

Yesterday morning, The Man and I boarded Cloud Nine and took to the road. The next few weeks, Lord willing, will find us roaming about in sundry places—north, east, south) seeing what the month of May has to offer. 

Some destinations are still unknown; we’ll see where the road leads us. Traveling is an opportunity we never take for granted, one for which we are always grateful. We both know how suddenly such things can come to an end.

As many of you know, just last year, the day after we returned from Branson in November, my dad fell from the roof and suffered an open pylon break in his ankle. The Man and I spent the next three months camped out on my parents’ property, helping in whatever ways we could, while praying for Daddy’s optimal recovery. As with most things in life, we didn’t know how it would turn out; maybe we had made our last big trip. But we are most thankful to thousands of friends like you who prayed for Daddy (and for us), and to God for showing us unmerited favor. Daddy's recovery has been on-track, and he has been walking (albeit still slow and painful) since the surgeon gave him the go-ahead the first week of March. We returned home the same month, where things have been busy ever since.

When we talked about taking an extended trip in May, we wanted to make sure my parents were ok with it. Even though we would come home at a moment’s notice, if needed, we wanted them to feel comfortable for us to be so far away. In their usual cheerful and wonderful way, they encouraged us to go, to explore, to enjoy our time together, to make the most of this opportunity, and so we go.

We drove over Monday evening and enjoyed a home-cooked meal together, followed by three games of Dominoes  As we were about to leave, I set up the camera and squeezed into this photo, just in time to produce big smiles.

Speaking of smiles, I kept sugar plum on Tuesday. I will miss her something fierce, but she promised not to “get big” while I’m gone (oh, if only). I am also hoping to do the Skype thing this time.

Before we left home, my sweet daughter did what she does best—she made my heart sing when she reached down and plucked this tiny flower out of a patch of clover in the front yard and handed it to me. She used to do that as a little girl and it always made my day. I snapped this photo with my phone’s camera and it couldn’t look more perfect in my eyes. It reminded me that the most ordinary things can become quite spectacular whenever we take time to look closely at them.

And that’s what I intend to do during our travels in May. I will look closely at the small and ordinary things, because, as someone once said, after all is said and done, they really are the big things.

Until next time, sweet friends, thanks for keeping me company here. I may be scarce during the next few weeks, but I will share postcards from the road should you be inclined to stop by again.

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Some Things Take Time ~ The Painted Table and Other Time Related Tales

We live in a society that wants everything now. We buy instant mashed potatoes, frozen pizza, and biscuits in a can. Automatic tellers dispense cash without us ever leaving our vehicles. We dash e-mail messages through cyberspace in seconds and read the world’s news on our high-speed computers. We depend on five-second sound-bites to summarize speeches and expect our dry-cleaning to be done overnight. If that isn’t enough, HGTV offers backyard transformations, all within a 30-minute show. We are accustomed to quick resolutions.

At times, I’m right there among the guilty—bellyaching about it taking too long to get my hamburger at the fast-food joint, too long for a package to arrive in the mail, too long for the paint to dry. And why on earth hasn't so-and-so responded to the text message I sent three minutes ago?

Yeah, I can get a little cray cray like that. Shame on me. And I'm probably not the only one wondering if this post will ever end.

But like it or not, some things take time. I’ve written often about patience, and I won’t belabor the point here. Instead, let me share with you a few images of things that have come about recently, only through waiting.

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This table and chairs have been with me for 20+ years. It was not an expensive set, and is not solid wood. Twenty years of hard use had taken a toll on it. A change was in order. In this case, I decided to go with paint.

I attempted to (somewhat) abide by the rules of the painting gurus and took my sweet time (something like a month) in the garage getting it done. It shouldn't have taken that long, but one thing led to another, requiring patience, patience.

I have no idea if this new look will hold up, but if not the table and chairs have certainly been worth the money spent 20 years ago, and I'm loving the drastic change. (In case you're wondering, those chairs are not black but dark walnut. Thanks to a senior moment, I bought the color quite by accident, but ended up liking it.)

*** 

It took three years of waiting to get these giant iris blooms. The year I planted them, they produced no blooms. The second year brought a total of one. I got so impatient I considered pulling them up. I'm glad I didn't.

Last year, my newly planted rose bush yielded two blooms. Since then, it's grown a foot or two, and, if you have a sharp eye, you can see that one bud is already opening, and three more are in the wings. On the right, my yellow lantana is full of promise, after being cut to the ground during the winter season. Waiting brings rewards.

Until next time, sweet friends, press on and don't give up when the waiting gets long. 

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I'm joining the lovely Cindy for her Amaze Me Monday series,
the lovely Marty for her Inspire Me Tuesday series,
and the lovely Anita (and friends) for The Scoop.

What I Haven't Told You

I have drifted far away from my familiar routines and easy days. It’s been almost a month and I still haven’t told you about my latest venture, but since The Man encouraged me to share the news, here goes. If you’re interested, you might grab a cup of coffee and be seated. This could take awhile.

For the last decade, I’ve hemmed and hawed about becoming a dealer at my favorite antique mall, getting more serious about it in the last couple of years. The Antique Gallery sits just a few miles from where I live. I shop there often, and my home is dotted with various finds through the years. I knew it would be the perfect location, should I ever take the plunge of setting up my own booth.

The way it works, you sign a six-month lease, pay monthly rent on your space, furnish it with whatever (there are stipulations as to what you can sell, depending on which end of the mall your booth is located). You’re asked to keep your booth fresh and maintained, but you don’t have to work the floor, or even be onsite when you're not stocking or tweaking your booth. A percentage is taken out of your profits for overhead and onsite staff, which makes it nice not having to, physically, be there. With my lifestyle, it’s the only setup that would work for me.

While The Man and I were away from home, helping take care of my dad following his accident, I called the mall's manager and asked to be put on a waiting list for available space. I still wasn't sure this was going to happen, but better to be prepared.

On our return home, The Man and I discussed (yet again) this little notion of mine and, after a bit of wrangling, I got a weak thumbs-up (that's better than a thumbs-down). He would be my financier, but it would be up to me to run with it and make it work.

And so I ran with it, and will attempt to make it work for the next six months. I admit my reason for not sharing the news before was perhaps one of fear. I mean ... pssst ... what if I fail? But how will I ever know if I don't try? The best I can do is give it my all and see how it goes. If I'm not pleased with the outcome, or if it becomes overwhelming (having a booth is a constant work-in-progress, with endless tweaking), I already have a plan: I will put on a big sale and call it quits. 

Speaking of sales, I’ve already sold a few items (Woo-Hoo!) and am hoping the summer months will see an increase in traffic. (I was told by the manager that spring is their slowest season. Time will tell.)

Along with a hodgepodge of inventory, I'm also stocking some of my sweet mother’s hand-quilted baby quilts. (She wouldn't part with her favorites, but I talked her out of a few.)

These adorable quilts make perfect gifts for new moms, and perfect pallets for wee ones. I assure you they were sewn with loads of love and care.

The Antique Gallery is located in Spring, Texas, off Hwy 2920, just west of IH-45. If you’re going west on 2920, turn right on Spring Towne Drive (between Mr. Transmission and Amegy Bank; it's easy to miss). You will see the warehouse building down on the left. My booth is W-7, against the south wall, along the outer edge. If you’re familiar with Old Town Spring, The Antique Gallery is just a skip and a hop away.

So there you have it, dear friends. I am now a business owner—sort of. And that leads me to my next topic. As a dealer of vintage and antique items, I am not only selling but buying, as well. That means, if you're local, I’d love to sift through your grandmother’s attic or grandfather’s tool shed.

As a dealer, I purchase things with the idea of reselling and making a profit, so I can’t offer what you might get in a retail setting, but if you’re interested, perhaps we could strike a few deals. I stock things from various eras but am mainly looking for pieces—big or small—produced prior to 1960.

If you’d like to know what I’m looking for, in general, and a few specific items, please email me. A link to my email address is located on my blogger profile page, and for my FB friends, my email address is located under the About tab.

This post has been rambling, I know, but I tend to lean that way. (Thanks for putting up with me.) Now you know why I've been a bit scarce around blogland in recent weeks, and I can't say that won't continue, as I'm enjoying the thrill of the hunt and also enjoying doing a few make-over projects for my booth. However, I don't plan to give up blogging. I still love it and will be posting, and visiting you all, as time allows.

Until next time, dear friends, whatever your hands find to do, do it with all your might. And, as always, thanks for stopping by and keeping me company.

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