Sometimes I stalk authors. If an author posts a particularly intriguing article on a blog, or if an author interacts with me on a social media platform, I might get curious about the author’s work. I want to find out more about their books. I might even want to buy one of their novels. If I’m already on an author’s blog, I expect to see their books either listed on the sidebar or on a separate page. If I don’t see their books listed on their blog, I’ll go to Amazon and search for the author’s name.
I’m pretty persistent. If I really want to find a book, I’ll find it.
Unfortunately, some readers aren’t that persistent. There are lots of demands on our time. It’s easy to get distracted. Kids demand our attention. Cats knock over a potted plant. The phone rings. By the time we return to our computer, we…
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Grab a rope, writers! Hang in there to make 2015 rock!
Original image courtesy of flowcomm, via Flickr Commons
Happy New Year! 2015 is now here and it is up to us what we will do with the time each of us is allotted. We all have heard the saying, “DaVinci had the same 7 days and 24 hours.” I would actually make a different point. Folks like DaVinci, Mozart, Shakespeare actually had LESS time.
There was no electric lighting and pulling all-nighters was a good way to go blind by candlelight. Thus, I’d say the difference is that these artists lived intentionally.
We all want to know the secret to “success.” First of all, I am going to add a caveat. “Success” is a very personal thing. What is “success” for you isn’t “success” for me. Yet, study after study shows that people who write down their goals are far more likely to reach them.
Why?
We have forced our…
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I did a guest post recipe on Sally Cronin’s blog. Thanks, Sally!
The fountain at Place Monge on Sunday Market day
In France, one of the things we truly enjoyed was the Sunday market held in the Place Monge town square. One could buy ANYTHING needed for eating, drinking, or giving. We only hit one Sunday that had a simultaneous flea market going on, but the rest of the days, there was no lack of choices for purchase. Fresh fruit, vegetables, and flowers were squashed in among stalls of stinky cheese and fish, raw meat and poultry. Lucious homemade breads competed for the winning fragrance award with occasional ‘meals made for you right now.’ The entire experience was a delight for the senses. Taking home the goods – mouthwatering sustanence.
flowers at Sunday Market
Meat vendor at Place Monge
vegetable vendor at Place Monge
Market fare from Place Monge
Many years ago, in the Yakima Valley, a Sunday farmer’s market was hatched. Of course, being at church most of each Sunday, we did not frequent the market. In fact, we boycotted it simply because it should be held on Saturdays (our opinion) so market workers and go-ers could attend church on Sunday. Granted, I don’t believe our boycott gained any new members of a church anywhere…
With our recent life change of full Sunday church responsibilities to experiencing ‘house church’ at a local park on Sunday mornings, we decided we would check it out – to see what the rest of the valley does on Sunday mornings. It seems that many residents take pride and joy at what is locally available, fresh from the fields, and the hands of gardeners, farmers, and crafters.
Sunday Market in Yakima
Pleasantly surprised, we found a plethora of aromatic and tasty produce, fruit, home produced crafts, and food items. Mixed in was a variety of ethnic food stalls (I love the panset and lumpia) and shoppers galore.
Checking out the goods
An added bonus is musical entertainment. Steel drum music was such a wonderful accompaniment to the outing.
My grandbaby hits the Sunday Market
Our boycott was in vain. We encountered people we knew, interacted with community members, and socialized under the hot sun. Purchasing fresh produce and showing off our grandson was at the top of the list of prizes for the day.
Hayden with Papa at the Yakima Sunday Market
I guess the boycott was a misguided waste of time. The Master Gardener did not stick Himself in church and stay there all day on Sundays. He was out among the people, where ever the people were…Perhaps more productive to relationship building and reaching out is to be where the people are…not where we think they should be, but where they actually are.
A challenge to myself – where are the families in my community on any given Sunday morning? Maybe it’s time I found out…and made some new friends.
Just an FYI – Rather than fight with trying to undo pages and rewire them (I have already been attempting…to no avail), I have a new blog. After using both this version and the new one, maybe I will have input on which is easier and more user friendly. So please, check out the other blog. I’ll be bouncing back and forth. 🙂 Love your comments! (and ideas…).
The new blog is titled Quantrell Quips, Quirks, and Quandary’s… found at www.angiequantrell.blogspot.com
And this was BEFORE espresso soaked dessert.
now the cap is where it belongs
It’s true. I’ve joined the “Look at that! I can’t believe they did that? Honestly, who forgets that?” group. And if my son finds out, I’m gonna be on his list…
Set the scene: midnight, last leg of the trip home from the Tacoma area, HOT (still almost 90), driving because it’s cooler at night (??? serioiusly, 90’s are better than 100’s if there is no AC in the vehicle, right?), the gas gage is hovering between 1/4 of a tank and the red zone…
The question: Do I stop and do a quick fill, or just head over the 3 humps and pray the gas holds…Do I really want to sit in the dark (with an empty gas tank) waiting for family members to notice I am not there (and can’t call because there is no reception on those hills)?
Solution: Ok, quick stop at the truck stop for $10 of gas to make it home.
Just in case some of you have never been at a truck stop at midnight, it’s kind of weird. And hot. Did I say how hot it was? The station had these special lights that attracted thousands of moths (I AM NOT overexaggerating). The ground was crunchy with carcasses, while the rest circled clueless as to their fate, banging against the lights. Before I even got out of the rig, they were swarming. Ick. I dashed in, paid my money, and went out…to fight the moths landing on everything. I flicked them out of my hair, off the truck, away from the gas tank..As I stood there, I thought, really, they need a few bat houses here or a ginormous bug zapper. But I’d rather they go natural with some bats.
So, as I watched the ten bucks disappear into the tank (let’s NOT talk about gas prices), I observed suicidal moths, the lack of gas receipt, the moths in my face…when the pump quit, I put the hose away, zipped in the caballero, and headed out asap – mind you, talking to myself, wishing they had bug catchers or something, and asking how could I get a receipt if I paid cash…it’s the simple things that escape me in the middle of my mind, I mean night, like forgetting how to go in and ask for a receipt. Debit cards are much easier.
Fast forward 35 minutes and I was pulling into the carport in Yakima. I got out of the vehicle and started unloading my junk…And I noticed the gas tank was open. Weird, I didn’t remember not shutting it. Then I looked closer, and not even the gas cap was on! Gasp! Oh, no, Taylor is going to kill me…where is it…Not laying in the back where I place it when I put gas in the tank. Oh, relief, there it is, rolled up to the front of the pickup bed. Quick, before anyone notices, screw on the gas cap and close the door.
Uh, did I just drive all the way from Ellensburg with my tank wide open??? What a space…I can no longer wonder how people can drive off with the gas hoses still attached or forget their drink on top of their car or leave the gas cap dangling…I’m one of them. Just a moment of distraction, and too many moths, yes, I’ll blame them…
Whew. Good thing it was dark and no one could see what I did.
bumper to bumper cars
That’s it. As far as the eye can see, cars sticking bumper to bumper. I am SO happy to not have a car while living in Paris. The Metro is just perfect, thank you. Or my own 2 feet.
I am fascinated with drivers in Paris…it’s amazing how little damage actually occurs as people get from A to Z in as little time, distance, and space as possible.
Some observations about parking in Paris, just in case you want to drive and park while here:
no limit except vertical walls
Motorcycles, scooters, bicycles…pretty much can park anywhere. They are supposed to follow normal driving rules, but motorcycles have a secret lane between the outside 2 driving lanes, and both motorcycles and bicycles will pass stopped vehicles and get in front of them to get away first when the light turns green. Or if there are no pedestrians…
Optional parking on top of cones
Your choice – between or on top of cones.
Space between vehicles is negligible
Bonus points are awarded for vehicles with minimal space between bumpers.
Accidents WILL happen.
Expect some slight scratches or bruises
Clever drivers will gently ease into tiny parking spots, avoiding major warping and scrapes on bumpers and fenders.
And my personal favorite trick for in city driving ~
Always carry duct tape.
It’s true. Duct tape can fix anything.
Despite these captivating photos, drivers in Paris really are amazing. There are few accidents, pedestrians remain unharmed, vehicles stay on the road, and traffic flows in seemingly flawless pathways. Hats off to the competent drivers!
We have good news. For those of you who know Kevin and his tendencies for eating extremely healthy, with many fruits and vegetables, he is now a happy boy. We made this discovery this morning at a nearby Champion (grocery store). Ooh-la-la. He is a happy, happy boy.
For Kevin, the happy boy.
