I never thought I’d share a blog post featuring a pre-schooler’s creative work, but YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS. Yes, Mom helped, but that makes it that much more special. I want one!
Though this does not count as inspiration for the book, here’s a great example of a real life Katie Shaeffer. One of my preschoolers, age 5, wanted to bring something for show and tell and it could not be a toy. He and his Mom showed incredible initiative, resourcefulness and creativity to visit the beach, collect the items and then using a glue gun, put together this awesome pirate ship.
Celebrating the real Katie Shaeffers of the world and their trusty assistants who help make it all happen! Creativity can be part of your lifestyle just like Katie’s in the story.
I love my new home, which was built in 1979 and still has mementos, shall we say, of those early days.
No sense getting rid of something if it works, right? I learned the hard way just how well some of those pieces have held up over the years. Take the doorknobs, for example. Or let me say, take the doorknobs, please.
Last night I had one of those fluke home accidents that are difficult to reconstruct and embarrassing to explain. So rather than try to paint a detailed picture for you, suffice to say, some tissue caught on fire, I tossed it in the toilet, had the presence of mind to turn the fan on, and closed the door so the smoke detectors wouldn’t go off. It should be noted I was certain the fire was doused at that point.
Yeah, one of the cats could’ve opened it.
Later, when I was sure the smoke was cleared, I returned to the bathroom and — the door was locked. I did everything I knew to do with a locked bathroom door, including breaking a hanger so I could use the hook at the top to pop out the lock, sliding a credit card past the latch and looking at the other locks for clues.
Oh yes, checking the door sills for a magic key. Those, no doubt, were lost long ago.
This morning, promptly at store opening, I entered Lowe’s and headed to their key counter, hoping they had a magic key. No such luck. Use a hanger, the guy told me, or a credit card.
My neighbors helped me with a tool or two, but still, nothing worked. I was forced to call my landlord, who got a good laugh out the situation. She’d done it herself, she said, but she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten the door open again.
A picture is worth a thousand words…here’s before and after…what you can’t see in this picture is how we tried to take the door off the hinges, then realized we’d have to pull it straight out and try not to tear out the latch. We abandoned that idea.
Before…
…After
Eventually Catherine, my landlord, somehow got the door open with a credit card and a screwdriver. We’d tried that before, to no avail, but this time she got it to work.,
It took an hour, and that was the time spent on it after she arrived. The cats were confused, but friendly (they like Catherine).
Last summer she debated about changing the door knobs. Now I helped make that decision for her.
We all have our pet peeves, our idiosyncrasies, our little quirks.
Those little things that annoy, delight or otherwise garner what many consider an unusual response.
Okay, this kitty is cute as he takes care of his personal hygiene.
For me (and my mom), it’s when characters on a television show or movie brush their teeth. EeYew. I do not need to see that lather, the foam someone is about to spit out. They’ve been doing it for decades, too. In the 1943 film, The More the Merrier, Jean Arthur can be seen at one point vigorously brushing her teeth. I put my head in my hands. It’s a good movie, but I cannot bear that brief scene.
For a woman I used to work with, it was needles. She could watch just about any gruesome scene in a hospital show, but pull out a needle for an IV or vaccination, and she shot out of the room (pun intended). As a news producer, she had a strict policy: no needles in the news stories. The entire station complied. It wasn’t worth not doing so.
Pet peeves are one aspect of our personality, quirks are another that make us unique. I make a few bucks every few months ironing pillowcases for a friend. It bothers her to have wrinkled cases (and now it bothers me). There are more dramatic quirks that might set others apart from the crowd, and I won’t describe them here lest I offend.
As children, anything that made anyone different was something to snicker about. As adults, we know better. Children, however, do have a wonderful capacity for acceptance when things are explained to them. Open up their world and they open up their hearts.
I’ve found adults are often less forgiving. They tend to try to temper their snobbery or bigotry by saying things that start with the phrase, “can’t she at least…?” implying that it’s okay to do whatever it is they find objectionable, just do it in the privacy of your own home. Or say it to others of like mind.
Yes, there are public and private behaviors, but not everyone is graced with the same sense of decorum, or even the ability to control their actions.
If I saw someone brushing their teeth in the Walmart parking lot, it would probably disgust me. But I’d have to wonder what brought them to do such a bizarre thing. Okay, in today’s day and age, odd behavior is fairly routine in some places, and we walk by without giving it a second thought.
You want me to watch your show? Watch what you film!
I say to Hollywood: please think before you have your actors and actresses brush their teeth onscreen. And for the love of everything good and holy, keep them off the toilet. I mean, do I need to justify that pet peeve?
Once, in a college class, I casually — or perhaps not so casually — made the comment that people could afford to get obsessed about sports because the games really don’t matter. It’s something you allow yourself to feel passionately about, knowing it isn’t going to change your life anymore than you allow it.
Sports don’t matter?
That shocked some of my classmates, disgusted others (who didn’t even deign to respond), and amused my professor, who agreed with me.
Let’s look at what I think does matter. Poverty, putting food on the table or the simple ability to pay your bills responsibly. Family and close friends, especially as we grow older. Our health, whether it’s maintaining or regaining it.
Certainly I understand the commitment professional coaches and players are going to have. It’s their livelihood, and a high pressure one at that. Yes, it matters to them. In fact, it’s likely to have a lifelong effect, one way or the other. So for anyone who makes a living in the world of sports, it matters, to varying degrees.
To those of us who just watch, bitch & moan, cheer at the top of our lungs and all the rest, it’s entertainment. It doesn’t matter.
I’m from Minnesota, which means I’m not used to seeing championship teams. In 1987, however, the Twins shocked everyone by winning the World Series. Their fans, and I was one of them, were euphoric. Good memories, fun to relive, but those games didn’t change my life one bit. Okay, I got a sweatshirt.
They won again in 1991, a top-notch World Series, and while the euphoria wasn’t the same (we’d been there before), it felt GOOD. Yet once again, it didn’t change my life, or the lives of too many of its fans. Maybe some won big money from ill-advised betting (a redundant phrase in my book), but no doubt the vast majority of that money was quickly spent, probably not wisely.
Still, there is a certain camaraderie that develops. My mom is friends with her next-door neighbor, a reclusive man who few in her building have gotten to know, because he’s heard her yelling when the Vikings score a touchdown. He’s a bigger fan than she is and loves to talk about the game, what they did wrong and on rare occasions, what they did right (for some reason, Vikings fans never like to talk about their team has done right).
In the end, sports don’t matter, any more than your favorite television show or beloved novel does. Yet…of course they do, because they’re an outlet for all that does matter. It gives us a chance to vent our emotions and say what we have to say in a safe environment.
We speak of passion with great enthusiasm, as in “pursue your passion.” I agree, finding joy in life is a good thing, and finding fulfillment and purpose is a treasure. But too much of a good thing has its drawbacks.
I cringe a bit at the word “passion.” It connotes a drive to do something at the expense of other, necessary tasks in life. There can be a lack of balance when you’re passionate about cause, a skill, a person…anything. Of course, sometimes, that lack of balance is part of what gets the job done. For a period of time, letting your passion drive you is a good thing.
Wild Thing, I think I love you…
Political candidates and those who campaign for them need to be passionate, for example. When you’re in love, you’d better be fully engulfed in your feelings for that other person, or forget about a long-term commitment.
It’s also a term that’s thrown around fairly easily, one that plays on your emotions but isn’t always easy to define in practical terms. I enjoy knitting. I’m an avid knitter, and I always have a project or two in the works. I love to share and compare with other knitters, encourage them in their projects and pursue the next big undertaking with vigor. I have dozens of knitting magazines (including every Vogue Knitting since 1982, which isn’t as many as it might sound like — for years they only published two issues annually). I dabble in design.
Yet I would not say I am passionate about knitting. To me, that would imply some sacrifice, a devotion that goes beyond what is appropriate for my favorite hobby. I have several friends who own yarn shops. I’ve asked them if knitting is their passion, and they laugh and say no. They love it, love their work and are dedicated to the success of their stores. But there is a balance in their lives, and their passion, if they can name one, is more likely their grandchildren.
For years I was also a devout reader. I read as many books as I could get hold of, and while circumstances dampened my enthusiasm for reading (something I never would have thought possible, and I resent those who caused it), that flame likely will never be fully doused. I still enjoy the feel and promise of a new book, and today, when I order one online, I can’t wait to open that box and just hold the book.
So I’m an avid reader as well as knitter. Perhaps there is a little more passion there, for I will firmly say, “you can’t spoil a child with books.” (I know, I know, some of you could provide solid examples contradicting that statement, but look at the heart of what I’m saying. And if a child throws a fit because he or she doesn’t get a new book every time the family goes to Walmart, that has nothing to do with books.)
Wait while I finish this thought…that’s not true, you are important to me!
The one thing I will say I feel compelled to do, even when I have nothing to say (hence the need for a blog haha), is write. That might come close to being a passion. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, if I could write for a living…the jobs I’ve found for writers, however, generally are for someone younger, more entry-level. I’m not sure that’s the kind of writing I want to commit myself to on a daily basis.
I have found a way to make room for all the things I can get lost in doing. If any one of them became a job, would I leave behind my joy and what now brings me peace? Let’s face it, too much of anything is going to hurt you in some way.
That goes for the body as well as the mind. As I grow older, I’m increasingly mindful of the toll everyday activities, no matter how seemingly benign, can take on our bodies. Anything we do for an extended period of time has its price.
I just spent months nursing a thumb injury my doctor and physical therapists believe was caused, at least in part, by knitting. When I posted a story about that, one of my blogging buddies commented how she’d hurt herself reading paperbacks.
Yes, find what you love doing, what re-energizes you. But remember, our bodies and minds need variety to stay healthy. We may not love everything we do with the same fervor, but the balance is what keeps us alive, physically and emotionally.
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Certainly I understand the commitment professional coaches and players are going to have. It’s their livelihood, and a high pressure one at that. Yes, it matters to them. In fact, it’s likely to have a lifelong effect, one way or the other. So for anyone who makes a living in the world of sports, it matters, to varying degrees.
Still, there is a certain camaraderie that develops. My mom is friends with her next-door neighbor, a reclusive man who few in her building have gotten to know, because he’s heard her yelling when the Vikings score a touchdown. He’s a bigger fan than she is and loves to talk about the game, what they did wrong and on rare occasions, what they did right (for some reason, Vikings fans never like to talk about their team has done right).
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My World With Words 
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