A Peek Into My Writing Journal

Last night the Internet was down.

I was in the mood to read something stimulating, so  I opened up my writing  journal that I have stored on my computer hard drive.

My writing journal is a catch-all of anything  that grabs me….

The only criteria for getting into the journal is at that moment, I am thinking, I might want to revisit these words again sometime, and the words grab me.

Quotes I come across, articles on current events that are especially articulate, things I’m wrestling with personally, etc.

Much of it is highly personal, and will never see the light of day (at least on the Internet).

Raw and unfiltered.

It takes just a couple of seconds to copy/paste  something good for later.   I highly recommend starting one if you haven’t already.

Word picture…Did you know cows have (4) stomachs? Yep. Ever hear of a cow chewing it’s cud?  Basically, the cow coughs up something it has already chewed on and swallowed and chews on it some more.  That is what my writing journal is…good stuff I have already digested, but may want to chew on it again. 🙂

In 2013, I was second guessing myself as a writer.  Got some good feedback from several of you that wound up in the writing journal.

Here is one piece of advice on writing that caught my eye last night:

“Write about what interests you, and do the best job you can.  Publish it, and then move on to the next thing (If you don’t move on, you risk one of two things.   If your piece is good, you’ll spend too much time patting yourself on the back.  If it’s bad, you’ll beat yourself you.  Write, and let go.

If people offer comments or criticism, consider them, but don’t be ruled by them.  For heaven’s sake, don’t worry about the numbers.                Linda

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If you are a blogger, (or a writer but not a blogger)  do you have any goals/ thoughts/ rules, etc.  for how you write?  Any tips that work for you as to what makes good writing?  Define good writing as far as you’re concerned.  What suggestions would you give someone who wanted to start blogging, but wasn’t sure of where to start?  Any suggestions for what not to do?  Who are some of your favorite writers and why?  (Feel free to leave a link  in your comment, if you have one.)

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Stoke’n the fire

There is a fire that burns most days, way down in the depths of my soul.

Not just figuratively, mind you, but literally.

This morning as I was going over my notes for a series of speaking engagements this weekend on local history, I  could  literally feel the burner kick in…..

On the gas water heater and furnace that heats our house, you can hear both of them when they get ready to fire up. There is a distinct sound as the igniter kicks in….then after the flame lights/ the fan kicks in…..

 

That fire (passion) burns 85 % of the time when I am at work.

It also burns on days like today, when I’m talking somewhere.

Not even sure why I’m telling you this…. 🙂

I’m speaking this morning @ 10:30 and again @ 1:45.  I will let you know how it goes.

Can you see the fire in this guys eyes?

Photo compliments of google

Substance

Read a thoughtful column last night from my favorite author Andree Seu Peterson titled Let’s Do Lunch.

I have to make a confession, Some of last nights column went right over my head.  Same kind of feeling I get when I try to read a poem.

But I did come away with a nugget and the realization I am not the only one who can only tolerate so much shallowness.

I can banter with the best of them, and love a good tease, BUT give me deep meaningful interaction anytime over shallowness with a guarded person.

(That is one of the biggest draws for me in the blogging…meaningful interaction)

An hour later I applied what I’d just read.

I got a random text from someone I don’t know all that well.    She had been watching  something on a TV series  and one of the characters  reminded her of me….

She wrote...”So and so reminds me of you…”

In the past, I probably would have just replied with something like...”cool…or neat…or thanks”… but because I am not watching that series,  I had no idea what she meant…

I wanted to know more.

I wrote her back…

I said, “Cool”..but then asked , “In what way did I remind her of so and so..?”

Her reply  left me  encouraged.

So much so, I made a copy of her words and hung them up on the wall overlooking my desk.  I have this habit of making copies of encouraging words and pinning them on the bulletin board overlooking my desk.

DM

 

Fired Up

 

This morning  I read an article titled 5 ways total strangers can make your trip better

It reminded me of one of my all time favorite conversations with a complete stranger….

It happened like this….

We were  visiting our eldest daughter in Wisconsin.  Lunch time rolled around and  daughter suggested we needed to visit her new favorite place to eat……

The deli @ her hometown grocery store.  (I love that girl!)

So we piled in the van and headed into town.

Everything was just as she promised.

Broasted chicken, fish, roast beast,  fresh watermelon, strawberries, salads, dark roast coffee, etc. etc.

The only thing they didn’t have was adequate seating.  As we stood there weighing our options I worked up the nerve to ask a  businessman sitting at a table by himself..“Would  he mind if we joined him?”

“Not at all!”

So we grabbed another chair and the (5) of plopped down next to him.

Community building started right away…

Who we were, what brought us to town, yada, yada…

And how about him?….turned out he worked as an engineer for one of the bigger businesses there in town… more small talk…he loved his job…  yada yada… and then somehow we stumbled across his current passion…

Brewing artisan beer in his garage.

One question led to another…

It was fascinating.

We were introduced to  the microbial  world of beer fermentation (and none of our party even drinks beer).

You could feel the energy around the table. There was a genuine sense of connectedness and letting down of our guards.

Then before we knew it, it was time to go our separate ways.

Pause.

That sense of connection is the main reason I blog. It has created opportunities to get to know people I otherwise would have never met…

and at a level that is virtually impossible to get to any other way. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the type of topics we  interact over. Last count, Mrs DM and I have met seven of you in person, some of you more than once.

Without exception, you have all been exactly as I would have expected..except better.  Each time, it has felt like I was meeting a long-lost relative.

So tell me, If I was sitting @ the deli table with you right now, and  asked, What is something you enjoy that gets you fired up what would it be?

I really do want to know! DM

 

 

Worker Bees…a meditation

honey-bee-flowers

Google Image

The life expectancy of a worker honeybee is 6 weeks.

Just 6 weeks!

Do you know what eventually kills her?

She dies because  her wings wear out, and she is unable to get back to her hive.

This past Thursday night  was my first bee keeping class.  I enrolled in a  6 week, 18 hour course titled First Lessons In Bee Keeping.  Class didn’t start until 6 PM.  I didn’t get home until after 9:30, which is way past my normal bedtime, so you know I’m motivated. 🙂

By the end of these six weeks, I will know whether or not I want to take the plunge and become a bee keeper.

Here are a few more bits of bee trivia….

In a healthy hive there can be, between 60,000 to 80,000 worker bees at the peak of the season.

A healthy queen honeybee may live 2 to 3 years, although due to the chemicals on plants these days, you’ll be lucky if she makes it a year.

There are 3 different types of bees in a hive:

A queen,   the worker bees and the  drones.

In a good year, you can expect to harvest 40 to 80 pounds of honey off of one hive.  Last year our instructor Bill told us, was not a good year.  He averaged  40 pounds of honey per hive. ( He has 300 hives.)  A gallon of honey weighs about 12 pounds.  Bill recommended a minimum of 2 hives for starters…for reasons I am not going to get into here…but even if it was a bad year, that would potentially = 80 pounds of honey or 6 and 1/2 gallons of local honey.

Side note- this past year we have made the transition from white sugar to honey.   Not going to go off on a bunny trail right now, but the more I learn about  the white pure cane sugar many of us grew up on (and  corn fructose)  the more I am motivated to replace those  sweeteners poisons with honey.

 

” Anyone can plop a bee hive out in the back forty over the summer.  You are not a bee keeper until your bees have survived through the winter.”                Bill the bee keeper

Pause

And on a related note…

I did not get home until 2:45 AM this morning.  Went in to work at 11 PM last night to clean, then set up a banquet hall for a Ducks Unlimited meeting.

I’ve always said, if I had to, and work was slow, I would go to Hardees and flip burgers.     Well, I finally got my wish 🙂

Construction work is  slow.   I have a friend who works part time for a commercial cleaning company.  His boss told him, if I ever needed work, to give him a call.

So last night I got up close and personal with all of the toilets, sinks, and urinals in a 400 seat conference center, as well as an introduction to dry mopping, and reading a table placement diagram.

Last night the story of the Prince and the Pauper flittered through my brain…You remember that story right? A prince and a pauper trade places..and each gets to experience life in a whole new way….

Here I am a self-employed business owner, used to hiring and firing, bidding work, collecting, dealing with customers, and all that goes into being self-employed…

and last night…

I was a worker bee.

(Notice I didn’t say “just” a worker bee.)

There is nothing  degrading about cleaning bathrooms for a living.  Talk about job security.

Woke up this morning with a song in my heart.

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Tell me about some of the types of jobs you’ve had over the years..(even if it was 50 years ago)….DM

 

Fallow

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Fallow field just outside my window

Fallow: Dormant, Inactive.

Fallow field: Intentionally giving a field a rest, a break from crop production, in order to replenish soil moisture and nutrition.

The same can apply to writing…. whether I am writing  a blog post or a book…

          “for he thought I was idle…. perhaps I am,  and perhaps I am not.  He forgot that a plowman’s mind wants to lie fallow a little, and can’t give a crop every year….”                                                                                                                              John Plowman

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You have been served

Next post in this mini series of guest bloggers comes from my friend Paul…

He writes at  Thoughtfullyprepping 

DM

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A true story of trusting your gut.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover“, said my dad.
As I commented on two hippy’s walking along in front of us holding hands.
Way I saw it was two boys, or girls (difficult to tell from the back), but the same sex.
That was something I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

Then they turned to cross the road.
One hairy faced male was wearing a priests collar, the other was a blind girl being led to safety.

“OK, got that dad, don’t be so quick to judge”.

Yet in later years I found myself having to make a judgement about people as I worked with various security agencies in public venues across the world. Only what worked in the UK didn’t work in deepest darkest Europe, or Singapore, or Hong Kong.

Culture and tradition can cause all kinds of ‘misunderstandings’ without language adding to the mix. The science called Body Language doesn’t even touch the nuances of personal behavior at those times and you have to ‘trust your gut’ most of the time.

Now I’m old school security and also trained in profiling.
‘Groan’, I can hear it now, ‘stereotyping groups to draw a conclusion’.
‘That’s wrong and sometimes positively nasty!’
Yet it works in the main so ‘lump it’ is my usual response to criticism.

Only it can go spectacularly wrong!

For instance, I was helping access control at a wedding.
Big affair, diamonds and champagne, the worlds beautiful people, and of course with money and egos to match.

Simple job. With an invitation, you got in.
Right, profiling criteria begins.
Diamonds, beautiful people, obvious money, and that inherent arrogance that group seem to have. Plus of course the beautifully printed invitation (Gilt printing, NICE).

Only this little old man with a REALLY badly fitting suit, mop of hair that looked like it had been arranged by the local cat, and dirty shoes comes up. No invitation. Quietly spoken, mild, almost embarrassed in his manner.

Simple, eh? “Nope, you’re not coming in”.
“But if you call my daughter over she will vouch for me.”
Daughters name was the newly married.

I’m thinking “Stranger things have happened!”
So leaving the little old man with our pet Hulk, the daughter was summoned.
Yep, you’ve guessed it, it was her dad.
A multi-billionaire.
Still he did thank me for being so careful and considerate.

Feeling like a complete pillock I went back to the gate.
That was the first time ever I’d got it wrong.

My boss wasn’t upset, the right thing had been done.

Only up comes a little old lady.
Scruffy, same hair dresser aka the cat, looking like a bag lady.
No invite and claiming that her son would vouch for her.

What’s the chances of two in a row?
450 to one (the number of guests present) I later calculated.
Once again the name proffered was one of importance and once again they were summoned.
Now I never gamble, but professionally I KNEW this one was a ringer!
No way in hell was I letting this one though.

On the other hand the boss didn’t want another ‘incident’ so despite my objections I was sent to get the named person.

Mr. Big comes marching up.
Ever noticed that about some rich people?
Big movements to match their pompous ego.

Only the little old lady kept her back to him until he was almost right up to her.
Then she turned around, whipped off the wig, and gave him an envelope muttering those immortal words, “Court bailiff, consider yourself served!”

The place went into an uproar.
The bride broke down, the groom socked his new brother in law (Mr. Pompous) and a  full on fight ensued, and during all that I’m propped up against the wall laughing remembering my dad’s immortal words.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover”.

Oh boy dad, you never, ever, worked security!