tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31050950637760354422012-02-01T14:38:10.303-05:00mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.comBlogger5261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-28036635753891261922012-02-01T11:44:00.003-05:002012-02-01T12:02:12.675-05:00

I am a neat freak. And I hate to be late. Both of these obsessions cause me anxiety.In this renovation year, I'm trying to let go of things that make me feel stressed or take too much negative thinking time. So I've experimented with leaving dishes in the sink and dirty clothes on the floor (overnight is the best I can do). I know that I work better when things are organized, but I don't have

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-16685575469784704102012-01-25T22:36:00.002-05:002012-01-25T22:37:30.279-05:00

This photograph doesn't really match the idea of the post, but I couldn't think of one that would represent this next project in my renovation year.I am trying to watch how I suggest things to people. Most of the time, in the past, if I felt enthusiastic about something, my "suggestion" to people would start with one of the following:"You HAVE to read....""You NEED to go see...."You've GOT to

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-89988950415591423122012-01-18T12:43:00.003-05:002012-01-18T12:53:37.924-05:00

A couple of months ago, I wanted to enter a writing contest. We were to choose a photograph and write a story to go along with it. After writing mine, I realized that my four-hundred words had to be cut by one hundred words.Now you have to be concise to tell a story in four hundred words and the thought of taking out a fourth of them was daunting. But I did it, and I think my story was

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-74852645311547216652012-01-11T13:37:00.003-05:002012-01-11T14:01:34.872-05:00

I'm not good with voids. When I am with someone and the conversation dies down, I feel an obligation to keep it going.When my husband and I are in the car for a while and nothing has been said, I ask, "What are you thinking about?" just to say something.I will give someone a day or two to answer an email and then I'm prone to write and say, "Did you get my email?"Waiting for rejections (and one

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-55041572780126605992012-01-04T20:15:00.004-05:002012-01-04T20:34:47.086-05:00

Definition of RENOVATEtransitive verb1: to restore to a former better state 2: to restore to life, vigor, or activity : revive I spent New Year's Eve at a house that is being renovated. The space was exactly what we needed that night: open and messy. I decided that a good theme for 2012 would be "renovation."Today I embarked the first project of my renovation: Go back to what was working

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-80747299922543729872011-12-29T20:43:00.006-05:002011-12-29T21:28:05.313-05:00

It's always good to look back on the old year before we move forward to the new.At the end of this year, on December 31, 2011, my father will have been dead for a year and a half. I haven't gone a day without thinking about him. My youngest sister and I cleaned out his house, we put it on the market, and now a family with children is making it home. My brother and I worked together doing

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-71765417138502500432011-11-03T10:54:00.003-04:002011-11-03T11:14:27.917-04:00

This image is in sharp contrast to how I feel right now. My children can hardly count the number of times that I have embarrassed them in stores because of poor customer service. But it is really important to me, and I think that my husband exemplifies in our business the kind of customer courtesy I want from people who provide services or sell things to me.There is a rug cleaning business in

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-33064227341370786012011-10-30T21:06:00.004-04:002011-10-30T21:19:32.449-04:00

I can't remember how long it has been since I had a weekend with nothing much to do.I've been off work since Wednesday. My daughter came, we made some wedding plans, then she was off on a side trip before returning home. I did laundry, I bought a few groceries to make it through, I changed my sheets.I also read a book, caught up on my crossword puzzles, chatted without feeling rushed, went to

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-83433118404565956282011-10-06T10:38:00.006-04:002011-10-06T11:02:59.168-04:00

Yep, this is going to be about my dad. This week I'm feeling a little emotionally vulnerable. a song can make me cry like a baby. The inability to share some recent accomplishments leaves them incomplete. My daughter's wedding, the holidays, all loom large as they will point out his absence. I ran across a thank-you note and his writing made my chest hurt.I had him in my life for almost

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-70202419205644581222011-09-21T12:08:00.004-04:002011-09-21T12:43:29.857-04:00

This notebook represents my eager attempts to get one of my stories published. It has charts, sticky notes, submission requirements for close to one hundred publications, a list of all my stories and where they are in the revision process. I put it together in a few days, thus avoiding the more important work of writing the stories.I've submitted thirty-five times. I've received twenty-three

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-35142647494276081142011-09-12T18:42:00.004-04:002011-09-12T18:48:07.934-04:00

Workshop with Author Louise HawesOctober 8 and 9, 2011 Place: Private Home in Raleigh NC Time: 9-3 each day Details: This workshop will be for serious writers with works in progress (novel, short story, personal essay, non-fiction). Each person will submit twenty pages to Louise and the other participants. These twenty pages will form the basis for the workshop experience. The workshop is

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-51046206879428615992011-08-31T13:12:00.010-04:002011-08-31T15:39:40.718-04:00

This past weekend my friend Elizabeth and I went to see her mom and sister in Scottsdale, Arizona. We stayed in a beautiful hotel, The Scottsdale Resort. I don't believe I've ever had a finer experience with a hotel. The staff was accomodating in every way imaginable, all the amenities were either free or reasonable, and it was convenient to where we had to be. Unfortunately, there was

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-15190509311161992042011-08-21T18:25:00.005-04:002011-08-21T18:47:23.200-04:00

A few months ago, my sisters and I sorted through the things my father saved for us in a big trunk. We made piles for the five of us. Report cards, letters, articles, scrapbooks. Drawings by our children. As we piled it all up, something became ridiculously apparent: My pile was very, very tall. And from there it became less and less until my youngest sister was able to fit hers in a large

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-42516036713289713082011-08-10T12:10:00.004-04:002011-08-10T12:24:41.484-04:00

I've been stymied about what to write here because I said I was finished with my dad's story, and it's still very much on my mind. Yes, a year and some weeks later, I'm still thinking about him so much, sad, physically sad that he's gone. We closed on his house on Monday, another chapter of our lives closed with the signing of the papers. But finally I had an idea for a post that didn't

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-90689923569730762792011-07-22T10:57:00.005-04:002011-07-22T11:21:46.079-04:00

July 1 marked the one year anniversary of my father's death. For many months, I've justified my sadness by saying, It's only been three months, six months, eight months. Now a year has passed and it feels like my feelings should have changed.One of my sisters said something the other day along the lines of, Now that a year has passed, his death doesn't really mean anything to other people, or

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-72959295143630399472011-07-03T13:06:00.007-04:002011-07-03T13:42:42.488-04:00

In June I ran over my cat and made it through Father's Day and my father's birthday without him. June 10 made twenty-eight of my mom's birthdays since she died. Today is my friend Catherine's birthday, and her family is celebrating without her too.My youngest daughter and I shopped for wedding dresses and talked venues and caterers and guest lists. My middle daughter's cat got run over and died.

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-68111291918897891522011-06-16T16:57:00.004-04:002011-06-16T17:18:55.730-04:00

Some of you may remember my post about a weekend I spent in Lake Bonaparte with Jan Phillips. I'm excited to tell you that Jan is coming to Raleigh to do a writing workshop. I would love to see some of you there! Email me at MamiePotter@gmail.com if you're interested. Here are the details:The Word, the Image, the Story: Tools of Transformation A workshop with author/artist/activist Jan

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-56447201145374228672011-06-02T10:04:00.004-04:002011-06-02T20:50:09.284-04:00

I thought I told everyone to watch out for the cat. “He sleeps under your cars, under your tires, in the middle of the driveway.”I left bright pink notes on steering wheels, called the yard man and cleaning lady, emailed the people who come now and then. Just yesterday I made notes for my daughter and her beau: “Washer fluid, emergency brake, Chippy.” I lured him from under the cars for a

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-62920933362100161952011-05-31T14:33:00.003-04:002011-05-31T14:55:30.730-04:00

My husband and I were having dinner last night - our third meal that involved cheddar cheese - and I sighed audibly."What's wrong?" he asked although I'm pretty sure he didn't want to."I dread putting on a bathing suit this year," I replied."Well," he started, but quickly stopped when he saw that look in my eye that said if you say one word about how WE can start exercising, I'm going to kill you

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-6189816955612836862011-05-21T18:02:00.004-04:002011-05-21T18:17:27.244-04:00

We've missed another false deadline for the Rapture, so I guess the last horrible days will be moved forward too.I'd like to think that this kind of prediction is nothing but fear-mongering and false confidence that we "know." But to those who really believe, this looking forward to the Rapture might also be filled with hope. Hope that they'll be taken from this place we call Earth with its bad

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-58387804143602147202011-05-15T20:36:00.005-04:002011-05-15T21:02:40.432-04:00

Today at church, my minister suggested something that will probably cause you to read this blog and go, "Say WHAT?" He suggested that for the next two weeks, when we get a bill in the mail, we open the envelope with a sense of gratitude. After all, we did receive electricity, cable, telephone, a house or car, insurance, etc. so why should we resent being charged for it?Interesting thought and I

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-58053623894779684552011-05-07T13:41:00.003-04:002011-05-07T14:08:20.640-04:00

One year ago yesterday, my dad had a normal day. One year ago today, all that changed. Here's a story I wrote about that day.STAIRSOne: The doorbell rings. Your feet hurt a little as you walk from your bedroom to the stairwell and down the top stair. It’s Friday, it has been a busy week, and though the weekends are lonely, on Saturday you will put on your favorite gray corduroy pants and the red

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-58370648359343081672011-05-02T16:58:00.004-04:002011-05-02T17:24:14.895-04:00

Right after Hurricane Fran wreaked havoc on our neighborhood, I became a mild hoarder. My children will attest to the fact that I stocked water, batteries and canned goods until the shelves sagged. I didn't want to use any of them because I was afraid we'd need them in a crisis. That was 1996. It has taken me many years to be able to go into a grocery store and only buy what I need for the week

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-23550717185187730332011-04-24T21:02:00.006-04:002011-04-24T21:36:47.258-04:00

This could almost be one of my "Week in Pictures" posts, but I feel compelled to say a few words. It's been quite a few days.Last Saturday, many tornadoes ripped through our state. For the first time since Hurricane Fran picked our street as Ground Zero, I experienced fear over the weather. I took the cats and went downstairs to an interior closet (in Fran we had to go to our dirt basement).

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-21625275466024428692011-04-03T20:41:00.003-04:002011-04-03T20:59:40.294-04:00

(This photograph was taken at a previous exhibit.)Friday night was the reception for the new photographs we hung in the Long View Gallery. The theme was renewal. You know how when you go grocery shopping and you're thirsty you buy a lot of drinks? And when you're hungry you buy more food than you would normally? I must be tired because three of the photographs I chose to hang were of sleeping

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-33760617245521549842011-03-29T21:38:00.002-04:002011-03-29T22:02:18.972-04:00

Mother Nature is acting like she's in menopause: hot one minute and cold the next. But I know that spring is within sight.I haven't posted lately, but there are good reasons. First, it felt ridiculous to post about mundane things in the face of the disaster in Japan. Second, I didn't have any idea what to say about Japan except that it is a tragedy of not just national but international

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-67222287377984341752011-03-16T22:14:00.004-04:002011-03-16T22:21:18.844-04:00

"All joy is the same, arising from an identical Universal source; every sadness is unique, rooted in its own particular circumstance."

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-9302871191579537292011-03-06T14:56:00.003-05:002011-03-06T15:12:02.066-05:00

I spent this weekend with seven friends from high school. Two of them I haven't seen since college. We caught up on our families - the deaths and births, marriages and divorces. We caught up on our jobs and retirements. We talked about rifts and repairs in our family dynamics. We played games and ate good food. We shopped. We walked dogs and rode bikes.In high school, there was this person

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-36960019642810519292011-02-23T19:04:00.006-05:002011-02-23T19:39:50.320-05:00

Fair warning: This is not a post with pretty pictures!For the past two Wednesdays, and several days before that, I've been working on submitting some of my stories. I had no idea how complicated it would be when I made this sweet little notebook:Inside, I put together a neat chart that showed Date, Title of Story, Publication. I was ready to get my work published.First I took this wonderful 4

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-37876857476222452462011-02-17T20:40:00.005-05:002011-02-17T21:11:36.537-05:00

The week my dad went back to the hospital for the last time, I was enrolled in a week-long writing workshop with our 2010 Writer Laureate, Zelda Lockhart. One day with her was enough to show me that she was an inspiring and innovative teacher. I had to leave after Monday to go to Greensboro and never made it back to the workshop. I decided that I was going to find a way to work with Zelda

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-35903244829323598772011-02-10T10:23:00.008-05:002011-02-11T22:53:59.366-05:00

My "Can I Do It" challenge this year was to commit to an exercise program. Using The Kaizen Way, I asked myself what I could do that I wouldn't resist. I signed up for two yoga classes, one beginning and one more advanced, and a meditation class. This was a lot of commitment, but I have stuck with it. The beginning class starts my week off with gentle exercise, and the advanced class pushes

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-31249280414767994382011-02-08T10:45:00.004-05:002011-02-08T11:18:56.370-05:00

I was thirty-one years old when my mother died at fifty-five. It was the occasion of my first real faith crisis: where was she now?Heaven was my hope, and I weighed what I considered her goodness and her shortcomings, wondering if God would find her wanting. I wanted to believe that I would see her again, that she was sitting next to the heavenly throne surrounded by those loved ones who had

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-89874047987509279142011-02-06T19:18:00.003-05:002011-02-06T19:35:47.999-05:00

I drove to the grocery store today, that most mundane of tasks. On the way I passed a teenage boy yawningly walking his dog, a few runners, children playing in the park. I passed a church where people stood in the door hugging and greeting each other, anticipating their spirits being lifted. The lines at the store were so long, people buying chips and beer and wings in preparation for the

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-37706622305759671422011-02-04T10:48:00.005-05:002011-04-08T10:46:31.020-04:00

There's something I can't get off my mind about the moments before my dad died. We were all standing around his bed, listening to the steady in and out of his breath. The pace of the breathing had not changed for days; it was the same as when he was on the respirator, in and out, labored. It was the only constant in the room as we moved in and out ourselves, going to get coffee or make a phone

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-39651521942940019322011-02-03T10:57:00.005-05:002011-02-03T11:28:16.432-05:00

I'm trying to be more consistent about posting, and meant to write this yesterday. I'm having a writing workshop at my house next weekend, though, and a houseguest as a bonus, and was busy getting things ready. The time slipped away, and soon it was time for meditation and yoga classes, both of which wear me out!I keep a notebook of cards and letters that I send. On Tuesday, I counted how many

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-45244314068054433542011-01-26T08:37:00.005-05:002011-01-26T09:05:04.264-05:00

Cleaning out my dad's house is an emotional roller coaster. My family is there in the tangibles, but very absent in reality. We've found Weekly Readers, constellation projects, old letters written between my parents, our fragile, falling-apart scrapbooks and theirs.We've pored over pictures, identifying those we know and wondering about those we don't. We agonize over tossing the ones we can't

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-35665700379045147432011-01-18T09:00:00.004-05:002011-01-18T09:14:14.747-05:00

Yesterday was my 59th birthday and I try to think that every age is the prime o' life! It might be getting a tad bit harder as I inch toward six decades of living on this planet.My family believes in birthdays, so my day was filled with chatty conversations with my children and my siblings. Needless to say, I didn't get a lot of work done!Something that I didn't anticipate was how my birthday

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-10847355792959545372011-01-13T19:58:00.010-05:002011-01-13T21:30:14.628-05:00

Last year (but not too long ago), I read this post on DailyOm about analyzing our happiness. In part the post says:"Those of us on the path of personal and spiritual growth have a tendency to analyze our unhappiness in order to find the causes and make improvements. But it is just as important, if not more so, to analyze our happiness. "Recognition is the first step in creating change, therefore

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-38858012764023212352011-01-07T12:25:00.003-05:002011-01-07T12:41:49.054-05:00

The other day, I had a revelation about why my life seems to speed ahead now. I live my life a month at a time, sometimes a quarter of a year at a time.I had my calendar out trying to make plans for a writing workshop I've scheduled in February, set up an art class in March, a new gallery opening in April. There was a whole third of the year in my head.As an accounting person, I have to do this

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-32352065538549084982010-12-31T09:39:00.004-05:002010-12-31T10:02:12.248-05:00

I'm a bit reluctant to say good-bye to 2010. Sure, I'm glad to have the cancer treatments behind me. I'm glad we're not worried about business. And new years equal new opportunities and new possibilities.But to tell you the truth, I feel sad to say good-bye too, because it feels like a farewell to my dad. Tomorrow his death will be "last year", the final days of his life will have taken place

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-71148781243071838322010-12-20T09:07:00.003-05:002010-12-20T09:23:47.459-05:00

Okay, last week I talked a good talk about happiness. But today? Not so happy. My old cat is waking up at 3 a.m. to go outside - he won't use the litter box for certain of his duties - and he's deaf, so his meow sounds like someone getting beaten. This morning, in addition to wanting to go out at that ungodly hour, he woke us up by heaving on the floor. AND when I got up, I noticed something

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-48112132693835135942010-12-17T16:01:00.003-05:002010-12-17T16:36:49.653-05:00

Some people might see the flower above and think, "Dying flower." I saw a star for a friend who loves stars. I've been thinking about our ability to create happiness in our lives, and how we view our world seems to have a lot to do with it.Once I started the thought process, I talked to my friend, Nancy. Do some people just have all the bad luck, I asked, or is it all about perception? I have a

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-85736107953566203432010-12-07T19:58:00.003-05:002010-12-07T20:26:26.908-05:00

I had my last radiation treatment today. I cheered with the office staff and patients, exuberantly hugged the technicians, and smiled through thirty-seconds of buzzing. I noticed that my funny bone was very closely connected to my tear ducts.I stayed a little longer after I was finished to visit with a friend I've made, someone also dealing with breast cancer. She's almost through - nine more

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-17801131940174618382010-11-28T16:24:00.004-05:002010-11-28T20:41:33.768-05:00

As I said on Facebook: "This was the oddest Thanksgiving I've ever spent. I liked it. And I didn't."My children don't come home for Thanksgiving because they'll be here for Christmas in a few weeks and it's such a terrible weekend for traveling. Usually we go to Greensboro to be with my dad. We've done this almost every year since we quit going to my grandparents' house in Carolina Beach.

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-41834485468018691152010-11-18T16:03:00.004-05:002010-11-18T18:44:16.985-05:00

Note: I realized after posting this that TOMORROW is the anniversary. I've been thinking all day that this was November 19. :) Five years ago today I made a move that changed my life: I quit drinking. And four years ago today I gave up cigarettes. This blog has been part of the journey too, putting my thoughts and challenges out there for people to see and comment on.I remember so clearly

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-49084765934768328532010-11-15T13:45:00.004-05:002010-11-15T13:56:37.501-05:00

Last week I was cracking myself up. This week, it's the gods who are laughing.Thursday the tiredness hit me. I feel like the floor is one end of a magnet and my body is the other. It started on Thursday afternoon. When my husband got home from work, I was sulky and irritable. His way of dealing with that is to quietly walk away from the aura of the bad mood. Unfortunately for him, that was

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-41574485527365621532010-11-10T09:39:00.003-05:002010-11-15T13:57:48.350-05:00

My oncologist, the nurses, the techs, and several friends have told me that I'm going to get tired as I have more and more radiation treatments. Well, folks, I have to tell you: I'm going to wear myself out getting ready to be tired!I love a crisis that you have to get ready for. I've talked about it before. Here's what I've done so far:1. Cleaned out the refrigerator, freezer and food

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-76398697826090904622010-11-07T17:58:00.007-05:002010-11-07T18:23:27.418-05:00

I'm sure you've seen the statistics--increased suicides, domestic violence, child abuse--among our returning veterans. Then there's traumatic injury, higher survival rates due to advances in medicine, PTSD. I took this picture at a Veterans Day parade in New York several years ago. The man was a Vietnam War vet. I'm reading the book Matterhorn by Carl Marlantes, a very realistic and graphic

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-67266434203920190942010-11-01T14:07:00.008-04:002010-11-01T19:46:56.224-04:00

One time my sister wearily told me, "You're always wanting to show me things."I've realized lately how much of that showing I did with my dad. Articles, pictures, anecdotes about the family. I wanted to share it with him. And I can't tell you how many times in the past four months I've resignedly said, "There's no one to show that to," because my dad isn't around.We saw the ship in the

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-7529897189764823152010-10-31T15:26:00.003-04:002010-10-31T15:37:29.408-04:00

Everything looked sinister through my camera lens this weekend. Except for the fox :)Here it is: Halloween in pictures (no costumes allowed).

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-91476672328181831642010-10-25T09:37:00.005-04:002010-10-25T10:00:06.178-04:00

Last weekend I read three books. Today I want to talk about the book, Let's Take the Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell. It is the story of Gail's friendship with Caroline Knapp, author of Drinking: A Love Story. The book follows Caroline's battle with cancer and Caldwell's care for her and subsequent sense of loss at her death.At the beginning of the book, I felt that Caldwell was being

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-85678976546545196232010-10-20T13:19:00.004-04:002010-10-20T13:49:59.495-04:00

This past weekend, my daughter and I went to Lake Bonaparte in upstate New York to do a photography workshop with Jan Phillips (that's Jan in the photograph). This area of New York is bucolic and peaceful this time of year and it was good to get my mind off my troubles. There were four other women there, from as far away as Alaska and as close a a couple of hours away by car. Hazel graduated

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-53459948267525703092010-10-10T16:59:00.004-04:002010-10-10T17:19:38.950-04:00

This weekend I went to my 40th high school reunion. And for all the pictures I've taken over the past few years, I didn't not take one photograph the whole time I was with my friends. Thanks to all those who did, and I look forward to seeing them on Facebook.I love, love, love my reunions, getting lots of hugs and kisses being one of my favorite things! I can understand though, those who shy away

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-55542957144124702152010-10-05T10:27:00.004-04:002010-10-05T10:57:04.393-04:00

We all have them: friends who think their opinion is the only one that matters. Let's take my husband for example, mainly because he never reads my blog. I say, "I love love love disco music!" He lowers his head and raises his eyebrows. "You love disco music?" And he means how could anybody in their right mind, with any taste at all in music, love disco?I have another friend, who may or may

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-65780026354105426822010-09-30T19:27:00.006-04:002010-09-30T19:47:40.060-04:00

Last night I spent time in my creative space making cards for some friends. I had the music going and felt very peaceful. It was nice.As I headed upstairs, I glanced at a book I bought at a used book store entitled, Our World. It is photographs by Molly Malone Cook with text by Mary Oliver. I bought it after a workshop with Zelda Lockhart. She suggested that we take a few words from a poem

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-87041925982140117112010-09-26T13:08:00.005-04:002010-09-27T08:07:10.728-04:00

It doesn't take much right now to bring me to tears about my dad's death. Dealing with the surgeries and upcoming treatment, photographs, music. The song, "The Weary Kind" from the movie "Crazy Heart" does it every time. During the days when we were exhausted, spending hour after hour by my dad's hospital bed, I played this song every time I got in the car. These lyrics particularly speak to

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-57893955076423162052010-09-20T11:27:00.006-04:002010-09-20T11:53:35.096-04:00

I spent the weekend in the darkroom developing the old negatives from my dad's house. I explained the development process in this post.When I have arrived at the perfect exposure setting and time, I can run several pictures rather quickly. The minutes-in-solution times can be synchronized so I'm moving the photographs through in production. It's easy to get caught up in running several because

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-46649308371736543832010-09-12T20:56:00.010-04:002010-09-12T22:03:00.048-04:00

This weekend we met our daughters in New York. It was a wonderful weekend with mostly cool and sunny weather. Usually on returning from a trip, I would call my dad and tell him all about it. He would love hearing the details. So this post is what I would tell him if I could.First I would tell him about the view from the hotel, where every morning the sun came up, touching the tops of the high

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-789344522318247652010-09-09T17:15:00.004-04:002010-09-09T17:27:36.365-04:00

This week, I feel like I've finally crashed from all that has been going on. I've been so tired I can hardly stay awake in the afternoons when I get home from work, and yesterday, on my day off, I did basically nothing except for a few loads of laundry. At 8:00, I'm ready to get in my pajamas and go to bed for the night.I still have decisions to make about my breast cancer treatment and am ready

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-79447952805442303692010-09-06T21:33:00.006-04:002010-09-06T21:59:13.350-04:00

Thursday Night:Friday Night:Saturday Night:Sunday Night:A wonderful weekend.

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-33241881564812325132010-09-03T09:48:00.003-04:002010-09-03T10:01:51.684-04:00

(Yeah, I know the photo is a little crooked - my dad took it!)The other day I was trying to remember the name of my first grade teacher. I couldn't pull it out of my brain. I realized something: my dad is the only one who might have known the answer.So it seems, that along with all the things I forgot to ask him about our relatives--like who are those people in the pictures in the trunk, why did

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-16369453098104412010-08-28T18:19:00.004-04:002010-08-28T18:34:36.654-04:00

Next Friday night, I will be having my second photography exhibit at the Long View Center in downtown Raleigh. The theme of the show is "Music" and what a night of music it will be. Both Carl and I have chosen our best shots around the theme, there will be live music, and the storytellers that follow the reception at Tell It! will incorporate music into their stories.The live music will be

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-80807784828937647742010-08-20T09:06:00.003-04:002010-08-20T09:19:18.930-04:00

Twice this month I've been able to go into the darkroom at Sertoma Arts Center. I've taken some old square black and white negatives that I found at my dad's house.It takes about thirty minutes to get set up. My friend Jen has the chemicals ready, but I have to check my enlarger, timer, filter, and lens to make sure they're all working properly and are what I need for the negatives I'm using.

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-72536260748441900562010-08-14T19:06:00.006-04:002010-08-14T20:04:47.323-04:00

Normally, I stare straight at Friday the 13th and spit in its eye, but after yesterday, I'm gathering lucky pennies and four-leaf clovers and throwing salt over my shoulder next time one rolls around. Here's what happened:Back in 2000, when things were rolling along nicely at our company, we splurged and bought a 1978 sport fishing boat. We named her Coatimundi after a reggae song we liked.

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-16484274162843437202010-08-09T14:24:00.003-04:002010-08-09T14:40:24.013-04:00

One of my faithful readers said she was worried because I haven't posted lately. I'm glad she missed me.I haven't written because I felt that writing about my dad would be boring to you, and yet everything else seems too trivial to talk about. I'm busy, along with my siblings, with the business of the estate and cleaning out my dad's house and all the emotions surrounding that. I can go days

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-35024597007805206532010-07-30T00:51:00.004-04:002010-07-30T07:41:32.136-04:00

I've spent the past two days cleaning out my dad's office and some of his house with one of my sisters and my brother. The box you see is just one of several boxes of cards and photographs and newspaper articles that my dad saved. Cards from us, articles about us, photographs taken when we all got together or sent to him.In the cabinets, we found several such boxes of things that he got when

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-70236148315923508982010-07-23T21:04:00.002-04:002010-07-23T21:15:40.924-04:00

I haven't been able to think of much to post about that didn't have to do with my dad, but I've thought of something: MUSIC! Now you all know how much I love music, and I spent most of last Sunday listening to my husband's gospel band play at two different churches. Some time ago, on this blog, I mentioned that he sings "Stand By Me" and this seems the perfect time to post this YouTube video

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-71983462523582727272010-07-15T09:40:00.004-04:002010-07-15T09:53:58.311-04:00

I never lived in the house that my father lived in when he died. The family moved there forty years ago, when I was a freshman in college. During the two weeks that we stayed there last month, I made one of the bedrooms into a refuge. I brought my computer, my IPod, a few books to read, my journal. My husband brought me one of his copies of The Runner's Bible, and I put it on the bedside

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-6810751531762455202010-07-13T08:36:00.003-04:002010-07-13T08:49:46.465-04:00

I guess you noticed the new look on my blog. I tried it on for size and now, though not completely happy with it, can't figure out how to get the old look back.This is what my life feels like right now. There's been a change and I can't make it go back to how it was before. Every morning I get up and I think, My father is dead. In my mind's eye, I see him coming in from my driveway in his

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-24834332593076828272010-07-09T20:52:00.005-04:002010-07-09T21:05:41.943-04:00

During the time we spent at the hospital, much of it waiting for my dad to breathe his last, a few people compared the process of dying to that of being born. Moving from a known, secure place to the unknown. Long and arduous process. Hard work.I would say that our role seemed like coaching a birthing mother. The day my dad died, as we were around his bed, it felt as though we were moving him

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-39042277694618303272010-07-01T22:12:00.003-04:002010-07-01T22:33:31.923-04:00

My dad died this afternoon. When it finally happened, it was quick, peaceful, and all but one of his children were there. Because I'm still processing this, I want to tell you about something else that happened today.My sisters and I will talk to anyone. My brother has teased us incessently since we've been going to the hospital about our need to say hello to every hospital employee who has

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-79126611083529801672010-06-30T20:57:00.005-04:002010-06-30T21:20:51.790-04:00

I'm going to be frank here and probably not very PC. Tough.We're going on day four since they disconnected my father's life support. We've been cooped up, sometimes eleven or more of us, in hospital rooms since a week ago yesterday. At best, my family is capable of sustaining good relations for a day or two. And that's if other relatives are invited and there's lots of food. Tensions are so high

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-90297632880899064832010-06-29T08:07:00.003-04:002010-06-29T08:20:06.476-04:00

Today is my dad's 88th birthday. It would be wonderful if he would go out on the same day he came into this world. We'll see.Yesterday had some blessing mixed in with the unbearable waitng. When they first disconnected my dad from the tubes, we anticipated a short wait. The doctors told us it could take a while, and we all relaxed into that. Instead of gathering all at once, we started

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-3075537130851166702010-06-27T23:09:00.005-04:002010-06-27T23:25:43.810-04:00

I guess my grieving muscles haven't been getting much exercise. They're really screaming from the workout.My dad has been disconnected from life support as of this morning. We've spent the day realizing that our world isn't going to be the same as it was when he was walking and talking among us.Grief is so darn personal. You can't talk to another friend whose father has died and gain any

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-39807022368208146642010-06-23T22:41:00.004-04:002010-06-23T22:54:49.978-04:00

Yep, I meant to start those cheery, thought-provoking posts again. Really I did. But it seems that the universe had another idea.Monday I started a class with Zelda Lockhart. I was on fire! She is so inspiring and original and my writing neurons were blasting against one another. On Tuesday morning around 7 my phone rang. Never a good sign. It was my brother letting me know that my dad had

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-3058998566572603652010-06-17T22:45:00.007-04:002010-06-17T23:24:19.114-04:00

Some of you long-time readers may remember this post about my doctor. I went to see him today to decide what I need to do next.I went with this attitude: I HATE RADIATION THERAPY AND WANT SOMEONE TO TELL ME THAT I DON'T HAVE TO HAVE IT!!!! In the back of my mind though, trying to help me prepare for all things associated with dealing with this little cancer, was a voice telling me that I was

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-46353253708744621962010-06-16T15:15:00.005-04:002010-06-17T23:23:42.424-04:00

Things are sorting themselves out here, and I'm feeling much better than before. Here's the status of things:1. My dad is holding his own, and I'm not needing to spend as much time with him as before. Thankfully, my brother and one sister have been holding down the fort because:2. A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with a very early form of breast cancer called DCIS. There is debate about whether it

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-32812153204902813622010-06-09T20:29:00.004-04:002010-06-09T20:37:06.781-04:00

I'm feeling kind of like this little guy - trapped in a lot of webs. Most of them not making me feel so happy. Work is difficult because of one client, my father is only slowly recovering from his fall, and I'm dealing with a little medical issue of my own. I'm not getting to the coast, the place that I disconnect from all things stressful.What should happen here and now is that I should take

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-65109734481991138142010-05-31T18:44:00.007-04:002010-05-31T20:09:30.177-04:00

Over the past few weeks, I have spent a lot of time with family. My siblings and I have stayed around the hospital for three weeks, moved my dad's bedroom downstairs, set up aides around the clock, worked with four different doctors, with nurses, physical therapists, and agencies. We've stocked the larder, bought equipment, sorted and re-sorted pillboxes, asked a million questions and forgotten

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-53014386387061725922010-05-24T17:35:00.004-04:002010-05-24T17:50:04.520-04:00

Bet you thought I'd exhibited my usual distracted behavior and moved on from Jan Phillips. Quite the contrary. I'm immersing myself in her work and feeling exhilarated!I am listening to one of her CD series entitled, "Creating Every Day". One of the stories she tells is about a sister in the parochial school where she attended high school. For an entire semester, instead of having the

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-63185424907527039942010-05-19T21:14:00.005-04:002010-05-19T21:30:52.937-04:00

My life has been composed of ups and downs lately. Way ups and deep downs. But tonight was definitely a way up.When we were at the workshop with Jan Phillips, she told us that when we want something, we should picture ourselves already having it. What would our emotions be? What would having it satisfy in us? The type of visualization that is popular today.A few weeks ago I submitted a short

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-10444907747691063772010-05-12T21:09:00.003-04:002010-05-12T21:31:36.522-04:00

I've discovered this week once again how wide the gap is between feeling sympathy for someone and feeling empathy for them.I can't tell you how many times a friend or acquaintance has told me that their older relative has broken a hip. It has come to represent the first step toward a downhill descent. I've expressed my sympathy and moved on.Last Friday, my father, who is eighty-seven, fell down

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-31134035191337517562010-05-07T21:14:00.004-04:002010-05-07T21:38:21.928-04:00

I can't remember being in a city that has as many blooming plants as San Diego. Everywhere there was beauty and color, and for me the fruitfulness became a metaphor for the workshop.On Saturday morning, we began the real work of determining one thing that we could be successful at workshopping. One woman, a stylist, wanted to work with cancer patients on their inner and outer beauty. Another

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-83954747101138086002010-05-06T20:39:00.005-04:002010-05-06T21:00:07.835-04:00

Have you missed me? I've got a lot to tell you. I'm going to tell it in installments, and here's the first of them:A couple of years ago I was searching for workshops that would combine photography and writing and came across this website for Jan Phillips. I subscribed to her Museletter, and have kept up with what she does through reading it.I saw that she was teaching what she called a "

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-11609807984171814282010-04-26T20:40:00.004-04:002010-04-26T21:09:04.807-04:00

Remember The Kaizen Way? Here's how it's working for me right now:First, I've started lifting weights to get rid of some of the flab on my arms. My sister suggested this, and though I can't see improvement right now, she assures me that I will. A few nights, before going downstairs to do this, I've thought about adding something. Yoga, lunges, something simple. Immediately I didn't want to do

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-52564085146750309782010-04-22T12:47:00.004-04:002010-04-22T12:55:28.391-04:00

Monday our internet connection went down. Today, my husband opened an email from our daughter, clicked on the link, wondered why she was sending him information on Viagra. An hour later he tried to send me two emails and they never came through. He's on the phone now with tech support.Hmmm. Mercury. And sure enough, here's what I read:At 04:06 UT (Universal Time) Sunday, April 18th, 2010,

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-36187684968907212872010-04-15T19:26:00.004-04:002010-04-15T19:40:13.158-04:00

Today I was in a craft store, and there was a mother with four children around the age of four or five. They were following her; all of them had their backs to me. In the midst of them, was a little girl with pink crocs, straight blond hair swinging side to side as she walked with her crutches. Maybe muscular dystrophy or cerebral palsy, but something had rendered her legs weak and unable to

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-58192955646459766272010-04-14T13:08:00.004-04:002010-04-14T13:23:17.592-04:00

Since finishing up with the exhibit a week ago Friday, I've been resting. Resting my brain, that is. I haven't posted in over a week; I spent one whole day of the weekend reading; and except for editing a story I haven't done any writing either.Only in recent years have I realized that it's important to "lie fallow" for a short period of time in order to be productive. I have to let my mind

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-47675085687702566362010-04-05T14:57:00.014-04:002010-04-05T15:29:41.457-04:00

After all the anticipation, the reception for the exhibit "Picturing Moore Square" was Friday night. The gallery was absolutely stunning. My husband had hung the photographs so that they appeared to be suspended in air. He had removed all the superfluous lighting, and arranged the remaining lights so that the photographs were featured perfectly. My friend Trisha made at least five different

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-70172629707703533612010-03-30T13:02:00.008-04:002010-03-30T19:17:24.540-04:00

On Sunday, I decided to take a break from getting ready for the photo exhibit. I had been in high gear, and frankly not very pleasant to be around for a few days. I thought some retail therapy might be in order. At the clothing store, I noticed a little book on the table. I impulsively bought it.That night, I got into bed and picked up the book. Here is the first poem:The JourneyOne day you

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-78920908022116490362010-03-26T10:00:00.004-04:002010-03-26T10:27:06.820-04:00

See the picture? The alligator swimming with turtles at Bald Head Island? Most of the time he leaves the turtles alone. They surround him at the pier, eager for droppings from the on-lookers; occasionally one of them will climb on his back. But sometimes, every now and then, that alligator turns bad and devours one of those turtles. The correlation? Most times the posts here are fairly

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-90476451904763352312010-03-25T20:36:00.005-04:002010-03-27T22:10:42.097-04:00

By "theme post" I mean this will really get to the heart of my ability to "do it".Last night I was putting together a business card for the Moore Square exhibit. And I couldn't figure out what to put on it. "Photographer"? Well, I'm not professionally a photographer. Besides, what if someone saw that and wanted me to photograph something? What if I'm not good enough to do that? What if what

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-43717848789810204242010-03-23T10:50:00.005-04:002010-03-23T11:12:55.711-04:00

One of the things that drew me to my church was the music. Lively, hand-clapping, dancing-in-the-aisle music. Music that brought a smile to my face that lasted for the entire hour.But things have changed. And I don't like the way it's going.So. What to do. There are people in the church who like the direction the music is taking. And the present choir director doesn't have the same music

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-84001692277988094222010-03-19T09:38:00.004-04:002010-03-19T10:13:11.513-04:00

"As a younger woman, I didn't hesitate to bare my body. As an older woman, I just as freely bare my soul." -- AnonymousMy fourtieth high school reunion is this year, and many of us are starting to hook up via Facebook and email lists. The excitement about getting together is building and it seems more fervent this time around.I've been corresponding with some of my old friends lately. I met a

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-58962487780573901502010-03-15T22:00:00.007-04:002010-03-16T09:09:48.856-04:00

Today is the day it dawned on me that I really don't know alot about having a gallery opening. And I also found out that even if you try to ask the right way, all the things you ever wanted to know about a gallery opening can't be found on the Internet.I have a beautiful gallery space and I've sent out postcards and posted on Facebook. I have my photographs named and framed, I have the video

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-19323226142654899382010-03-11T18:16:00.005-05:002010-03-11T19:15:15.421-05:00

I submitted a story of mine to the two literary publications I read the most: The Sun Magazine and Narrative Magazine.I like submitting to Narrative for a couple of reasons. I can submit online; that makes it easy. And until I receive the rejection email, I can check on my submission, where I see "Under Consideration" by the title of my story. I like to think they're at their office,

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-22043092431678968692010-03-10T15:55:00.003-05:002010-03-10T16:09:27.203-05:00

Some of you know that I spent this past weekend with four friends from high school. And yesterday I had lunch with my college roommate. Both times I heard something that astounded me.Almost ten years ago, I was in the hometown of one of the high school girls. We tried to hook up with her, and she had already left by the time we arrived at our meeting place. After the trip, she tried three

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-67473751625820016912010-03-07T18:34:00.003-05:002010-03-07T18:44:44.843-05:00

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-58356729414542151652010-02-27T15:36:00.003-05:002010-02-27T16:07:20.487-05:00

Today, after being at Southport Marina for a year (I can't believe it has been that long), we moved the boat to the old Bald Head Island ferry landing. After a restful morning, we headed out.It has been a very cloudy, windy day, and I was glad it was a short ride to the new marina.The view from the back of the boat is great - trees and sky. We've never been in such a natural setting in a

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3105095063776035442.post-74440769489281026912010-02-26T08:43:00.004-05:002010-02-26T10:52:36.774-05:00

Maybe it was enough to have this post in cyberspace and off my mind. My friend gave me a plate that said, "Be nice or go home."I think I'll go home now.

mamiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04702758010419552137noreply@blogger.com3