Write with TLC

2024 has found me, us, the world. I keep searching for meaning in the moments, large and small, that made up 2023, globally as well as personally. There are disappointments, challenges, losses, and triumphs dotted throughout the year. Somehow today it is the little kindnesses that stand out to me in a sea of painful moments. And, I wonder if sometimes we forget that a little kindness, a little love, a little compassion goes a long way toward making life bearable for those in challenging circumstances. My problems this year pale in comparison to worldwide atrocities. They were still challenges I had to face and handle. Those challenges taught me some lessons about the people in my life as well as about myself. Frankly, I don't want to talk about my personal 2023 right now. Relationships change, grow, end, and begin. People lift us up and people let us down. Good things happen, and bad things happen. The world around us can be incredibly kind and just as cruel. And through it all, we...

Forgiveness is not some supernatural event that fixes everything. It can't be. Asking it to be is too much to expect as well as absolving us the work it takes to right a wrong or at least acknowledge a wrong that can't be righted. Forgiveness is all about accountability and absolves no one from the need for accountability. Forgiveness is essential to life. It allows hurts to mend, amends to be made, and offers a way to move forward. Sometimes that forgiveness allows people to move forward together, but sometimes it helps them move forward apart. When they move forward together, that's growing closer. When they move forward apart, that's finding closure. Both are important at different times in life. Forgiveness isn't something we do for the other person. It's a gift we give ourselves. It's a letting go of what's beyond our control. It's an acceptance of what happened and whose accountable. Forgiveness allows us to stop clinging to the mud miring us i...

What now? The end of 2022 is upon us. In a few hours, it'll be 2023. How was your 2022? Funny how I haven't heard that question asked much lately. But then again, I've been housebound due to a foot injury for much of the last few months. As I've stated many times over, I don't really get the big deal about the end of the year and the beginning of a new one. Life goes on regardless of what number is on the calendar. That said, I think 2022 has been both good and bad, like most years. On the professional side, I'm rather happy with the progress I made on my poetry. I'm not as happy with the progress I made on the novel I'm working on. I'm happy with the cards and other products I've created on  Zazzle . I'm not as happy that both this blog and my cooking blog, Vegan Cooking with TLC , ended up rather neglected this year. I'm happy I posted more reviews on Reviews with TLC this year and figured out how I want to approach reviews going forwa...

Often when we long for one thing that craving is simply a mask for the thing we really want.  When I crave Grandma Stamm’s macaroni and tomatoes, boiled potatoes, or chocolate cake, it’s not the taste I want.  No one can ever duplicate her cooking even if they follow her recipes to the letter.  Grandma made those with her special love, and that’s what I really crave.  Grandma died twenty years ago, and I still long to spend time with her. She often expressed her love through cooking.  Every Sunday she fixed favorite dishes for family and friends she expected to visit.  There were no invitations, no RSVPs, no formality.  People wandered in and out of her house Sunday afternoon and into the evening.  They fixed a plate of food from the bowls and platters of food kept warm in the oven, played a game of cards, and chatted about the week past and the coming week.  She’d lay her cards down to greet the newest visitors, and after much protest, retur...

Recently during a conversation, a friend described me as being passionate about my beliefs. This was stated as a compliment, and I took it as one even though it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Over the next few days, I reflected on this statement "you're passionate about your beliefs" and finally understood why it made me uncomfortable. I can certainly understand why someone would think I'm passionate about my beliefs, but I don't think I am. I am very passionate about my values but not so much about my beliefs. I am fairly certain this is where some readers are ready to shout "semantics", but it's not, really. My beliefs are subject to change when the facts supported by research warrant the change. My values, on the other hand, are much harder, some impossible, to convince me to change. I have cultivated my values over the course of my life in a way that informs my life, how I live in the world, and how I interact with others. I am proudly passion...

Far too many people seem to think there should be no consequences for their actions no matter what while also thinking other people should face consequences for theirs. I don't understand this thinking. I was raised to always be prepared for the consequences, good or bad, for my actions, good or bad. I don't always like those consequences, and there have been times I desperately wanted to avoid them.  Every time I start thinking like that I hear my parents' voices in my head saying "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime." and my science teachers teaching me Newton's Third Law  "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." These message instilled in me that there are consequences for which I need to be prepared. My words, my actions, even my thoughts have consequences, even when I'm the only one aware of those consequences. That doesn't mean there isn't context to apply to situations that can possibly mitigate...

Recently while looking for a way to address my waning ability to focus, I remembered a presentation on ways to get back on track when one's writing suffers I'd been asked to give a few years ago. I dug through my files and found it. As I read it, I realized many of the items could apply to anyone, not just writers, who felt overwhelmed, stuck, or discouraged while working on a project, but I also realized I've developed new techniques since.  So, before we start, let's take a moment. I'd tell you to close your eyes, but then you couldn't read the next part. Take a deep breath and exhale. Another one. Let go of your day. Focus your thoughts on a project that you're struggling to complete. Don't focus on the why, just on the project itself. Imagine it completed and how you feel. Imagine abandoning the project and how you feel. Imagine working on it and how you feel. Now, I suggest you close your eyes as you imagine all that again while you slowly inhale an...

Sometimes we're going about life and all seems to be running smoothly. The bills are paid. Work is going well. There's even a few dollars in the savings account. Family and friends are healthy and happy. Pets are doing well. We even have time to play. Life is working. We relax. We think "I could get used to this." Then boom... boom... boom... Life interrupts itself. Still, we're certain we can handle what's coming our way. This one thing and that one. It throws our schedule all wonky, but it's temporary. We can handle it. We know we can. We set up systems and plans and schedules because we know that's the best way to keep on track or at least stay close to on track. But... Life has other ideas. The next thing we know, our priorities have completely shifted and we're doing good to keep the basics done because life has decided all our planning is a joke. Life sets out to prove that all those ways we learned to cope with the expected unexpected won...

For much of my life, every time I let me out to play, work, or live, something went wrong. Someone would hurt me, or I would hurt someone.  I’d lose a friend. I would disappoint someone. I’d see that look of judgment. Mostly though I ended up feeling like I didn't belong, that I didn't fit in, that something was wrong with me. I would then retreat behind my mask and secure it in place. I was reminded of how prevalent my mask has been in my life recently while reading  Love Warrior  by Glennon Doyle. She describes her representative in much the same way I've often described putting on my mask for the world. Her descriptions of her reactions to expectations and conformity lined up far more with my experience than I want to acknowledge. I squirmed in my seat every time she referred to her representative. In fact, I kept wanting to change the word representative to mask because it lined up so well with my experience with my mask. I was drawn back to Glennon's descri...

Daddy with a few of the Case tractors he restored Idle Hands (for Daddy )   Never one for idle hands You created and built A lifetime of memories and moments You left behind a legacy Of love and hard work You handed your family The callouses you earned On hands never idle Held to the very end In love and understanding Your hands building and rebuilding Making the old new again Seeing the puzzle of the broken As a challenge to make whole again What others couldn’t see Those hands never idle Even to the very end Taking care of everyone With actions greater than words Rest now Let your loving, calloused hands finally be idle

January 16, 1947-March 22, 2021 Gary “Dean” Cooper, age 74, resident of Tollesboro, Kentucky, died surrounded by family on March 22, 2021 in Maysville, Kentucky.  He was born on January 16, 1947 in Lewis County to the late Arthur and Georgia Cooper. Dean was a devoted and loving husband, father, and grandfather who took great pride and joy in his children and grandchildren. He spent his life connected to the land as a farmer and a logger. He was also a gifted mechanic. Never one for idle hands, he started restoring Case tractors in his retirement and always had several restorations in the works. He is survived by his wife, Glenda, two daughters, T. L. (Loay), and Tonya (Charlie), three grandchildren, Kenisha (Tristan), Kaylee (Austin), and Tyler, and one great-grandson, Brayden. He is also survived by six sisters, and a brother. He is preceded in death by two brothers. If you’d like to plant a tree in Dean’s honor, please visit The Gifted Tree . Daddy, thank you for making me the w...

  Here we are again... At the end of another year! I had such big plans for 2020! Yeah.... Sighs! I really want to write some empowering, inspiring, hopeful words right now, but they're not coming. They will come again but not today. I have never been one to think the clock ticking over to a new year is anything more than arbitrary. It changes nothing other than the number we have to write on dated material and resetting the tax year... It doesn't make us more whatever it is we want to be. It doesn't erase whatever bad we want to ignore. It doesn't change our habits or goals or daily lives. There is some comfort in that as well as some discomfort in it. It would be nice if that tick would actually reset things and make them better. If it would push us into a new phase or place or purpose, but it doesn't. I hear many people saying things like "I can't wait for this year to be over." and I've even caught myself saying it. Then I wonder why. I know th...

I recently read A Collection of Poems by Robert Frost . It's a beautiful book and one I'd been salivating over for a while, ever since I saw it in Costco several months ago. It is filled with poems that speak to my heart, my imagination, my core. I was thumbing through one day while reading - yeah, I was looking ahead - and came across Nothing Gold Can Stay , and the first thought that popped in my head was "Stay gold, Ponyboy." I stopped in my tracks as a shiver went up my spine and a smile slid across my face. I remembered in that moment the first time I read The Outsiders   by S. E. Hinton . The first time I read Nothing Gold Can Stay in the book, The Outsiders , the first time I heard the poem aloud in the movie , the first time I read the letter at the end of the book, the first time I heard the letter at the end of the movie... Robert Frost and The Outsiders are forever linked in my memory because of this poem. S. E. Hinton used Nothing Gold Can Stay to...

Earlier this week, Sam Falco blogged about exchanging letters when he was younger in his post, Letters , and it struck a cord with me. I've been thinking about it ever since because I remember having a whole network of friends and family that I exchanged letters with for years just like Sam did. Over time, those letters dwindled to almost zero. I occasionally have the urge to start writing letters again. I'll buy some nice stationery. I'll write a few letters. I'll put the stationery in a drawer and forget about it. Eventually, I'll feel the desire to write another letter. More often than not, I'll buy more stationery, but sometimes, like today, I'll open the drawer and use a sheet of the stationery I'd forgotten all about. Today, as I wrote a short letter to Sam, I thought about how much I enjoy the feel of the pen across the paper, the words taking form into sentences to express an emotion, share a thought, or remember a shared experience. I thou...

Together Alone We sit so far away Yet so close in heart Every thought holds you near Every emotion gives me hope Every teardrop mends the tears I listen for your words As we stare into the sky Looking for ways to feel We aren’t so far apart I see you on the street Step aside – six feet Keep you safe Keep me safe So that one of these days All this time alone Will lead to us being together We’ve gotten through worse We’ve survived arguments and hurtful words We’ve gone our separate ways for far worse reasons Yet now as we contemplate when we’ll next see each other A virtual hug A virtual kiss A virtual cup of tea Is all we can give As we navigate this reality So that someday, some time in the future Hopefully sooner rather than later We can cross the street to stand Hand to hand Smile to smile Hug Kiss Drink a cup of tea Laugh about that time The one time when the world Forced us to be isolated When we had to find ways to be Together al...