Our parents lived through WWII and the Great Depression. We children have lived through one year of a pandemic and some other crazy stuff going on in our country. I’m so glad our first day of spring was pleasant weather-wise and my day has been going well. Hope yours has also. Saw a group of bicyclists when I was out and about today. I looked at my bicycle when I was in our newly
built shed. Tires could use some air. Hoping my husband can help with inflating them. I envisioned myself driving to a park. At least that’s a start, like an athlete getting mentally prepared to run a race. I had a Toastmaster’s meeting this morning for which I had to mentally prepare myself. I was speaker number two. A newer member was speaker number one. It is courteous to let newer members speak first, so they can get it over sooner because they may be a tad more nervous. We evaluated each other’s speech. The newer guy said he couldn’t find anything wrong in my speech to tell me about. My ears heard him say “perfect”. Then he added, “I’m a new toastmaster,” like he might not be experienced enough to find something which needed improvement. The grammarian found plenty on which to report. I’ve become pretty lax in my older age, since not working outside the home. Like, you know, who cares, and ah . . . I mean, isn’t juggling the food in the refrigerator to keep something from going bad, more important? “You mean I left the plastic container of fresh fruit out all night?” I asked my husband who had just devoured a piece of cantaloupe from the same container. “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t said something,” he said. I guess it’s a good thing in my speech at Toastmasters I told everyone “I love my husband” twice, once at the beginning and again at the end of my speech.
It’s good, I feel silly, and witty, and bright . . . and I’m happy for the hope, amid caution, starting to seep out in our everyday vocabulary. Of course, I’m just a relatively new author . . . hoping my second children’s book will soon hit the shelves.
I got to see a penguin flapping his flippers in excitement as he led the penguin parade, like a majorette showing off his majestic skills with a silvery baton leading a band down a street lined with cheering crowds. How precious! Amazing penguins can keep their balance as they make their forward side steps on the pavement. Maybe penguins prefer waddling on ice, ‘cause if they fall, they can slide better on it, the ice breaking their fall more smoothly. Skaters on the ice, when they fall, scoot a bit. As a child I recall watching ice skating events at the Olympics on T.V. where the skaters just picked themselves up, brushed themselves off, and continued on with their routines as assuredly and gracefully as they could if they happened to fall during their routine. None of the penguins fell on their parade at the zoo when I saw them this past Friday, but I did see a penguin poop. “It happens every twenty minutes,” per one of the penguin caretakers. ‘No big deal’ is the feeling I got from the tone of her voice. The penguin just kept on walking. And we bystanders just continued enjoying the penguin parade.
I am anxious for and close to my second children’s book to being published. I have worked, worried, and struggled over it for several years. For a long time I worried it wouldn’t be as good as my first book, “Flip, Flap, Try . . . A Cardinal’s Journey”. I made changes in the story to try to express it’s joy more fully, the joy of parents of a child with a speaking impediment hearing his/her first words. I wanted the reader to be able to feel this joy when reading my story. I want to encourage parents to be happy with each step in a child’s progression towards adulthood be it very small (as a little squeak) or as big as being a village hero (helping you and your friends be rescued after being lost on a hike). Children learning hiking safety tips which might actually help save their life someday is another wish I incorporated into the story. I also wanted to instill hope in the minds of children who may be lost, hope someone will find you (alas, the seek birds who travel the world looking for lost children).
y?”. Everything in the world is so new to them; there are so many things to understand. My dad was a pretty smart guy. I always thought he knew the answer to everything. He liked tinkering in his workshop and reading Mechanix Illustrated, a magazine (about the size of my sisters and my copy of Cat In the Hat). Like the Cat, my dad had plenty of tools to help him do his work; if he didn’t have one he needed, he made it. There was a vice secured to a work bench, across the room from the door of the workshop (and one step to your left). It got used a lot. My dad was always using it to tightly hold a metal pipe or such which needed sawing. I remember tightening the vice with its shiny, smooth lever with knobs on both ends so it wouldn’t fall out of the hole. Tightening a vice is a fun thing for a child to do. You get to use two hands, each pushing in opposite directions (as hard as your little arms and hands could). One quick knock with a dad’s sized hand is best for loosening the vice’s lever. Then a young child can easily twist the lever to open the vice’s jaw.
Thanksgiving since he is working there. Sun is shining, cotton ball shaped clouds highlight a royal blue sky. A row of palm trees are near the beach with fingering branches, some green, some brown, with golden yellow spines. Coconuts can be spied. We can hear the roar of the massive grayish blue ocean dabbled with white foamy cresting waves. Vavoom! Wisshh! Powerful tumbling, turning into white sprays. Cloudy white waters retreating back away from the shore. Three brown pelicans. wings with trims of black, and long pointy noses leading their way, mockingly flew by reminding us this is their home, not ours. Variant repetitious waves calling out “I’m here!” Crash! Swish! Crescendos. Crashing over rocks. Bellowing their arrival. Diminuendos of retreating waves saying, “Till we meet again.” Overall, a constant relentless roar. An occasional squeak from a bird. Waves washing against, over, and through some of the rocks of the shore. The sounds of the ocean filling our ears, our minds. The clouds near the horizon were graced by a fading in and out rainbow earlier this morning. We tried taking some pictures. Relaxing, engulfing, inspiring sights and sounds. Ours for the taking if we so choose.
It’s Halloween! Time for some fun. Yes, the nights are getting longer, we have to move our clocks back an hour tonight (which messes up our internal clocks), and we have a scary virus lurking in the aisles of our grocery stores, shops, and restaurants, but we must not be defeated. We must carry on in our new ‘normal’, social distancing, building up our immunity, using our best hand washing techniques.
Today marks the 6th anniversary of my writing The Cardinal That Kept Quitting speech. It was written for my completion of one of the projects in the Storytelling Advanced Manual, part of Toastmasters International’s communication track towards becoming a Distinguished Toastmaster, at the time. The objective of the project was to write a story with a moral. This was something I had never done before. My husband and I had been on a camping trip not long before then where we encountered a persistent cardinal that kept attacking the windshield of his red truck Explorer. I wondered if I might be able to come up with some sort of life lesson and story about that cardinal. I pondered and thought hard about it. It came to my mind, the idea that sometimes continuing to be persistent isn’t good. That poor little red cardinal would probably end up hurting himself badly had not my husband move his truck to a different location. The idea that sometimes quitting can be good came to my mind. I decided to do a little research on the internet to see if anyone else agreed with me. I didn’t want to share my idea if it was too far out from the ordinary. I tried several search words related to my idea and ended up stumbling upon a speech by Deepak Malhotra, a Harvard professor. It concurred with my thoughts about how sometimes quitting, not being persistent to a fault, can be a good choice. He gave the example as how quitting one’s job may be a good choice in certain circumstances. In my speech, the cardinal tries out and quits several jobs till he finds a job which makes him happy. The cardinal in my speech uses parts from his previous jobs to build a toy for a little boy to help make him stop crying. The walnut sailboat idea was from a childhood memory of my Dad and I making and racing our little walnut sailboats together.
I delivered my speech, the same day I wrote it, at my ACE Toastmaster club meeting that night. It was well received. The story of how I eventually went on to publish my book entitled Flip Flap Try . . . A Cardinal’s Journey goes on from here. I will have to share that story another day.
The 3rd anniversary of the launch of my first book, “Flip Flap Try”, is July 7, 2020. To date, I have sold 372 copies. More importantly, I have made connections with many people and shared the messages in this book, especially about the importance of keep trying till you find your dream job. This past year saw the launch the soft cover edition of my book. It’s acceptance has been positive. The most fun thing I got to do was to autograph a hotdog bun at Tony Packo’s in Toledo, Ohio. I have been making final edits for my second book. Sticking with the bird theme (first book is about a cardinal), my second book is about one of our bird friends from the Antarctic, a penguin. I have gotten to visit several zoos across the United Sates and seen penguins there. I have talked with some people who have had the opportunity to visit the Antarctic.
the boxes and bags out of the closet. When I did that, I noticed the walls of the closet were marked up. I had thought I would just paint the walls of the closet myself (my husband is a very busy man) but decided to mention to him that the closet needed painted. Fortunately for me, and our future house’s owners, my husband tackled the task. He did a fabulous job! The Easter grass is now back in a Ziploc bag on a newly painted shelf in the closet, so it can’t mess up the closet floor again or at least not anytime soon.