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#SelfCareSunday Social Media Management
July 16, 2017
— 1 Comment
heard it through the grapevine
heard it through the grapevine
Social media has a way of consuming more time than anticipated. The phone is a silent thief vibrating in your pocket, distracting you from whatever you are doing. There are now special programs at hotels for folks who want to do a detox. The deal is that the front desk will keep your phone locked up for you while you try to go cold turkey. You pay a fee for this service. This example from 2009 is listed as a detox package for just $199 a day ( that is per person) at a fancy place just outside Washington, DC. They were probably pioneers in the growing market, and DC probably does generate a lot of social media anxiety.
The terem social media management is normally used to refer to the marketing of a business using the various platforms. What I mean is personal management and strategy. You don’t need an expert to help you design a strategy. You are the only person who knows how far social media has slipped into every aspect of your day. You are the only one who really can asses your need for “likes” and what that need represents. This is not a relationship with your phone, although it seems to be. This social media presence is a self image, crafted by you.
There are now businesses designing custom social media detox retreats. This is a high growth industry. Just like the opioid crisis, the social media addiction problem can be treated with mindfulness and meditation for a long term cure. Staying “clean” after one of these intentional cleanse periods will require a plan. But why wait until you need an expensive intervention? Now is an excellent time to find balance between life and digital devices.
My own strategy, which works pretty well, is to have no relationship with my phone. I don’t give out my cell phone number, and ignore my phone most of the time. I have a land line to talk to people, and I don’t text. I use the phone for GPS and to make calls when I travel. I sit at my desk (like now) to write or read on the laptop. I limit the desk time just because I am not the type who likes to sit for long periods of time. When I finish my tasks on the computer, which include a couple of platforms, I leave it behind while I move around and do the rest of my day. This keeps my focus on the task at hand, both at the desk (because I want to finish) and on the go. I occasionally get sucked in for short times, but basically this system creates a functional boundary. Have you ever thought about where your digital boundary is….or where you want it to be? Take care of your time, gentle reader…it is a terrible thing to waste.
#WeekendCoffeeShare Monsoon Edition
July 15, 2017
— 7 Comments
Sonoran Desert
When it rains it pours in the desert. We finally have our summer rainy season. If we were having coffee this weekend in Tucson you would notice the uptick in humidity, and the relief all the flora is now expressing. The long dry spell is broken. This annual event is met with great rejoicing here, no matter when it arrives. We would all burn in hell without our summer rain. Have a seat, relax, and tell me about your week. We are still up to our ears in dates, so help yourself. For tea, we have every flavor you can imagine. I can serve it up on ice to keep you cool for our chat. What’ll ya have today? I am guzzling white strawberry iced tea..makes me remember spring, when it was not so hot.
If we were having coffee I would tell you about the ironic timing of events in the last week of my life. First I crashed the back of my car and sent it to the shop for repair. This incident kicked off a virtual cascade of related reactions. This is the first insurance claim on a car I have made other than a cracked windshield. I know the insurance company will raise my rates, and I have been thinking that my car no longer suits my lifestyle. With my new job I now have a commute and it would be better to have a more efficient smaller vehicle (for which I will also pay lower insurance premiums). I visited the Prius dealer and picked out my salesman. He is extremely cool, from Senegal. He claims to be able to dance better than all the West Africans in France…we shall see about that!! Moustapha and I will be cooking up the perfect deal for my new vehicle and image. I will be sure to show it to you all when it happens. There is much to study before I make this move.
I had scheduled a light treatment at my dermatologists office before I crashed the car. The treatment to remove precancerous spots from my face requires that I spend a few days in total darkness to recover. I had changed my work schedule accommodate what I call the vampire days. If you have to have your car repaired anyhow it is the perfect time to stay home in the dark. I had a great time yesterday getting rid of things. I have decided that along with my car and a layer of skin on my face I will shed everything I own that no longer thrills me. This process will take some time, but I am determined to finish the job. I feel liberated already by making these decisions.
I was distracted by real life enough to skip two days of writing this week. I started to write a memoir on Monday because the alliteration just works. I wrote a short piece about my father and fishing ( because alliteration rules) I skipped #TeaTuesday because we had a very long meeting plus training at the grow. A doctor presented both an hour of basic cannabis training, required by the state for those of us who hold the dispensary agent license, and a more advanced lecture for the whole staff. Both hours were jam packed with information. The doctor was a good presenter with plenty of science to back everything he said. This job is the bomb. I shot some good footage for #WeedWednesday but did not get the post written this week. Lucky for me nobody really suffers if I skip some days. I only disappoint myself.
Since I discovered that alliteration is such a great way to create an editorial calendar I decided to write fiction of Friday. I chose a familiar real character from my youth and made up a story about her life. I don’t think it qualifies as historical fiction, but I did make a start, so I am pleased with the idea. I know it is corny but #SelfCareSunday, #MemoirMonday, #TeaTuesday, #WeedWednesday, and #FictionFriday make me very happy. I write either fiction or poetry on Thursdays because I enjoy Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompts. Do you follow a writing schedule or do you just let it flow?
What are you working on now? I think many of you have inspired me to attempt fiction, and I thank you for that. What kind of subjects do you like to cover? Where do you get story ideas? What remedies do your employ for writers’ block? I am curious about your process. Let me pour you another glass of tea and listen. Tell me your news.
#WeekendCoffeeShare
This weekly digital beverage party is hosted by our lovely hostess Diana at parttimemonsterblog. You can join the fun by reading, writing, and commenting here. The group is diverse and witty, and who doesn’t want to visit New Orleans every week?
Cabbage Rolls Again?
July 14, 2017
— 1 Comment
Audrey
She knew from the smell when she opened the front door that her mother was cooking cabbage rolls again. The hallway and the stairwell smelled heavily of cabbage when she came home from school. For her it was the reassurance of a meal to eat, but for others who visited her after school it was foreign. They always asked when they arrived at the landing in front of her upstairs apartment, “What is that smell?” Her parents were both from Poland, and her mother was an excellent cook. She used cabbage almost every day because it was cheap and healthy. Audrey was both proud and ashamed of her heritage and her ethnic diet at home. She wanted to blend in with kids at school who ate much differently than her family. Her mom was really the one with the mad chef skills, but she was ashamed of that cuciferous odor coming from the kitchen all the time.
Her home and the family income were average for the time and the place. Audrey felt that she and almost everyone she knew in school would be classified as “middle class”. There were fewer class distinctions in elementary school than there would be later in life. She had friends, boyfriends, and was popular. In the 1950’s in our tiny town the children were given relative freedom to do as we pleased until dinner time. Friendships that began on the whiffle ball field or in a snow fort would often conclude with an invitation to eat dinner at another kid’s home. Most mothers would consent if an extra child was brought home, but permission had to be granted from the visitor’s parents. In this way we checked out each other’s family dining habits and parental norms. It was a very common practice. She held back from accepting invitations because she did not want to reciprocate. This was the beginning of her social withdrawal.
Now that she is back at home taking care of her parents in their home she wishes she had learned to make stuffed cabbage the way her mom did. She is an adequate cook, but does not know any of her grandparents’ traditional recipes from the old country. She buys frozen foods and prepared packaged meals. A certain amount of guilt consumes her as she spoon feeds frozen corndogs to her mom. She does not understand what her mother is telling her in Polish, and she feels a loss that cannot be recovered.
#WritePhoto Messenger In Black
July 13, 2017
— 6 Comments
as the crow flies
They called out to each other when he entered the building. “CaCaw-CaCaw”, the sound of the crow echoed through the staff to warn that the boss has arrived. Quickly scurrying to clean up, sweep up, and look alive, everyone knows what the boss likes to see and what sets him off. This factory was for a while the last remaining business in the town. Generations of village folk have worked in the same jobs for decades. The relationships between the factory and the town were simple. The workers provided an honest labor force, and the factory provides jobs to keep the economy alive.
The casket industry is a lucrative niche in the death market. Since 1795 the luxury leaders in the industry had been Royal Flush. They were the providers of royal caskets, designed for pomp and ceremony. To stay in high society and leave a lasting legacy the final statement had to reflect an abundance of tradition and very flashy symbols of wealth and power. No expense was spared as the Victorians went about turning the funeral into a well orchestrated show with all the trimmings. Modern times brought new color and swag to the final container. The possibility to jack up the price with extras had never been better. Nobody wanted to be outdone by others as they made their final exit. Caskets were almost pure profit.
Times changed, global warming had severe consequences for graveyards everywhere. As the costal waters rose currents swept through cemeteries causing remains to float to the surface and drift out to sea. Nobody had anticipated this side effect. Suddenly burial was no longer the first choice of those who needed to dispose of their dead family members. Royal Flush was the last place any sane person would look for a civilized end. The factory doors closed and the workers all had to move to higher ground. As they looked back at the factory for the last time a black crow swept low in the sky and shouted, “CaCaw, CaCaw”. They understood his warning, his message. They saw the folly in resisting change and biting the hand that feeds. It was too late.
#writephoto
This story is written in response to Sue Vincent’s Echo, where a photo prompt is featured every Thursday. Join us to read, write, and comment here. Jump right in with your version! It is fun to see how many ways the picture is interpreted.
#MemoirMonday Fishing With My Father
July 10, 2017
— 1 Comment
Dick on a family fishing trip
My father was a fisherman. This sport consumed his free time and a lot of his money. I think he inherited the love of fishing from his mom. It was mentioned in some early notes by my great-grandmother that Olga, my grandma, was an ace fisherwoman as a child. It was a family activity for multiple generations. We would go to lakes in Arkansas and Oklahoma when I was very young. After we moved to Pennsylvania I don’t really know where or if my dad went fishing. The Allegheny River near our home was way too polluted for fishing, and Lake Erie was on the way to completely ruined too. I think he just fished when he was down south visiting his parents.
Our family moved to Venezuela in 1963, to a rural part of the country. My father was the general manager for Mene Grande, aka Gulf Oil in the Eastern part of Venezuela. Maracaibo, in the west, had another operations manager. The companies built camps for their workers. Service companies like Halliburton had small camps, and sent their kids to school at the large camp, by agreement. My dad was the boss of all the people in my neighborhood and all the people we knew in other towns. I was a princess of petroleum. Inside the camp life was lavish. Outside life was primitive by the standards I knew in Pennsylvania.
One of the privileges my father enjoyed was being invited on fishing trips by service companies. We also had a yacht at our disposal in Puerto la Cruz, so my dad had his own deep sea fishing craft with a full crew. I liked the yacht part because I never had to fish. I was not really into it. I ate them, but that was about it. I got to water ski when my father was not trolling for fish in the Caribbean Sea. That was excellent.
We went into the jungle to a fishing camp owned by some service company on a jaunt to catch a fish called Pavón. It is large and free, and was very abundant in the Amazon Jungle. We flew in a WWII German plane with the owner/pilot. He was most certainly a Nazi who got out with his plane. It still had military style seating ..as in not much. You just get strapped to the side of the plane and bounce around in an open metal fuselage. I believe we were in Colombia, but there were no signs of statehood. There was a tiny trailer and an indigenous family of caretakers. It was the hottest place I had ever been in my life.
We set out in small boats, a couple of guys stood up in the boat and shot the crocodiles in the head when the approached our boats. The bloody and creepy memory is clear in my mind today..as is the amazing heat. Finally we landed and started casting lines from the shore. The Pavón were biting and we were catching them non-stop. A few Piranha were caught and set up on the bank, far from the water. They were snapping their awful jaws together rapidly an hour after they had been taken out of the river. They were scary as hell. I quit fishing after my first 15 fish or so. I walked back away from the shore. I spotted a black jaguar ahead of me walking perpendicular to my own path. I froze and was unable to scream for my adults who were close, but not visible. The majestic cat must have known I was there, but kept his eyes forward and walked on into the jungle. I quickly made it back to the guys with the guns and told them, but nobody thought it was a great idea to chase the cat.
Memory is an unreliable source of fact. I know I must have embellished this story in my mind a bit, but I am sure of the central elements. I remember the jaguar as a vivid spirit message that came to me because I had stopped fishing. I felt an odd blessing that came with the sheer fear of the moment. I am very glad I went fishing in the Amazon, but not because of the fishing. I had a destiny that included an exotic tropical wild animal crossing my path with no desire to harm me. I did some fishing as an adult, but always with a hand line. I am not a rod and reel person, nor am I greedy. I am pretty sure that the sport of fishing has something to do with feeling what is unseen. Do you fish, gentle reader? Literally or figuratively?
#SelfCareSunday Art As Therapy
July 9, 2017
— 2 Comments
floral art
An appreciation for art of all kinds is a practical way to stay sane. During free time we can fall into the trap of planning too much, doing too much, and expecting others to do too much. Then the pleasure of leisure dissolves into another competitive realm to conquer. I believe that one of the best ways to indulge oneself and nurture creativity is to spend time making or admiring art. This is an open category. Art includes performance art, movies, theater, stand-up comedy, dance, and musical concerts of every kind. It is also written, painted, sculpted, and drawn. One can find it in museums, galleries, front yards, gardens, and libraries. There is plenty of art to view on line, but I think the best place to look for artistic talent is within.
It is fine to be a student, a novice, a dilettante. We do not need to be naturally endowed with talent, training, or determination. We simply need to dedicate some time to the discovery of the inner artist. I believe we can all seek greatness in one medium or another. It does not hurt to try, and it can enhance life to find a creative outlet at which we may excel. I have pursued many crafty, arty visual arts, but now I like to combine the visual art with something in writing. I am attempting a little bit of fiction lately, which I find liberating. It inspires me to broaden my vocabulary and learn more about story crafting. I think writing is good for my imagination and problem solving skills.
I love singing and was trained very well in my youth. I am a second alto and can hold my part in harmony. I no longer sing in public but I accompany many of my favorite recording artists, providing the harmonic third while I listen. I don’t want to go to choir practice any more, but raising my voice is a thrill and a chill. It puts me in a good mood, which usually means I dance around the house too. For me there is no better stress relief than belting a song.
Do you make time for artistic expression? Can you think of ways your creative side helps you deal with some of the more annoying parts of living?
garden
#WeekendCoffeeShare A Date With Dates
July 8, 2017
— 3 Comments
dessert from the desert
20 pounds of dates
If we were having coffee this weekend in Tucson, I would try to cool you off and ask you to join in a rain dance before you go. Our wildfires are very hard to control with no rain, so things are out of hand here in Arizona. I know the weather is warm all over this summer, but we are truly surrounded by a burning ring of fire. We went out early this morning to a produce distribution near our home. Our produce haul this week includes a 20 pound box of fresh dates. They are beautiful. Please help yourself to some while I pour you some iced tea. I will be studying Pinterest for date recipes to try that do not include baking…it is too hot for that. Sit back and tell me how your week and your writing has gone. Is your muse treating you well?
If we were having coffee I would tell you I am really enjoying that Audible subscription I purchased. I am tearing through the books, and loving the podcasts. I may disable myself from true reading with my own eyes, but I think it is super fun to have a great voice read to me. It is the perfect companion for my job. I continue to learn more every time I go to work. Yesterday I learned exactly where the big mesquite tree branch is in the parking lot. I was leaving work, obviously kind of distracted, and backed right into said tree branch. I had a long way to drive home with a shattered rear window, and later discovered body damage on the door that will require repair. I had to stay calm while hoping my window would not drop out on the road behind me in severe heat. I made it into my garage, had some exchange with the insurance company, then slept on it.
Of course I wish I had not damaged my car, but I always ask “Compared to what?” I did not hurt anyone else or anyone else’s car. I do have insurance coverage to repair the damage. I reflected on the central messages of my most recent audio books…I decided this accident was the flash of reality I needed to sell this car and get a much smaller more efficient model. I can save money on my insurance premiums by purchasing a small car, so I am going shopping for a Prius. I think it will be fun, and will suit my present lifestyle much better. I am not in a big rush. I have to get my car fixed in order to trade it in. This turns out to be some kind of turning point that will not require a dark night of the soul, just a car purchase. That is why it is an excellent idea to listen to Buddhist philosophy before you smash your rear window. Since one never knows when one may smash a window, it is always good to listen to the Buddha. The same might be said of death. Nothing is more valuable than equanimity.
How is your writing? I am still enjoying tea reviews and weed Wednesday. I shot some footage yesterday to use next Wednesday that I think will turn out well. My short fiction this week was again kind of gloomy and dystopian. The memoir book has been very helpful to me as a guide to creating fiction. I have not written much of it, and have not thought about character development and story arc, etc. Like my poetry, I have miles to go before I create my masterpiece, but I find the journey interesting and stimulating.
Speaking of stimulating, have some more iced tea. I have Peppermint Butler brewed for a cool zing and a caffeine buzz. It pairs well with the dates. If you know any simple, bacon free (I am a vegetarian), date recipes please let me know. I think I might attempt date chutney, but I am low on ideas beyond that.
Please stay hydrated during your visit to our hellish weather. Visit our hostess, Emily, at Nerd In The Brain to stay in touch with this digital party. Share your own post, drink some coffee, and let us know what is happening in your life.
#WeekednCoffeeShare
Since this is a digital and moveable feast, next weekend we will converge in New Orleans at the blog of our original coffee share hostess, ParttimeMonster. We do this through the magic of the internet. Thanks for stopping in today.
#WeekendCoffeeShare
#WritePhoto Peace Trance
July 6, 2017
— 8 Comments
peaceful paradise
At the most stressful times she could remove herself from the action by calling on her ability to go into a trance. She had been a captive since her early childhood. She can barely remember her own abduction and the long ride down the mountain out of the forrest. They crossed barren plains scarred with the remnants of war to the camp where she remained. She never saw her family again, and was taught a new language, full of harsh sounds and concepts. In her few hours of rest she remained faithful to her tribe’s values, trying to keep the few sacred words of her mother tongue alive in her mind. There was no speaking around in that forbidden language, for the camp was used to erase culture and tribal belief. The process was a special kind of stripping of confidence that left them all exhausted.
Her skill to call down the moon was still in tact. She spent the full moon nights in reverie, practicing the trances and the dances she had been taught as a little girl. She felt her own power grow as her values changed. She knew the secret of taking responsibility. The people brought to the camp were stripped of their identity and culture, then programmed for menial and dehumanizing work. They were hoodwinked into thinking they had no choices in life, that this awful slavery was a punishment for something they had done.
In her meditation she saw the logs in the forest that her grandmother used for an altar. She could pull in every detail of that scene, and even hear the voices of her people chanting to bring her back home. Finally one night in her dream the path to return to her village was revealed. A strong bold figure opened the gates and brought all the people into freedom. She ran quickly up the hill with an unlimited energy she had never had. Her steps were swift and sure as she climbed the last hill. She saw her whole family gathered around the altar, dancing slowly, chanting sweetly. When she awoke and found herself safely snuggled in her own hammock she knew she had been taken on a special dream journey. She ran to her grandmother for an explanation. All her grandmother would say was, “You have been chosen. Now you must choose which path you will use.” She was not sure which one, if any, was real.
#writephoto
This story is a response to the Thursday photo prompt on Sue Vincent’s Echo. Please join each week for poems and stories on a photo theme. It is fascinating to read the different ways writers interpret the picture.
#WeedWednesday Welcome To Arizona
July 4, 2017
— 1 Comment
cannabis
cannabis
cannabis
cannabis
Arizona made medical marijuana legal in November, 2010 by enacting Prop 203, which won by a narrow margin. The health department of the state regulates and licenses dispensaries. The number of dispensary licenses issued is linked to the number of pharmacy licenses in the state. Prop 203 calls for no more than one dispensary license to be granted for every 10 pharmacy permits issued by the Arizona State Board of Pharmacy. As of 2010 when the law was passed, that equates to 124 dispensaries statewide. Patients who live more than 25 miles form a dispensary can apply to have a caregiver grow for them, or be their own caregiver. Many rural areas of the state are more than 25 miles from a dispensary, most of which are concentrated in the urban areas of Phoenix and Tucson.
In Nov 2016 Proposition 205 was defeated by the voters, 51.32% to 48.68%. Had it passed Arizona would have joined the adjoining states of Colorado, Nevada, and California in legalizing recreational marijuana. This makes Arizona a less well-funded state, and creates a tourism draw for the other three. The marijuana tourist tax dollars Arizona turned away will visit Las Vegas and have no remorse.
Canadian firms have started to invest significantly in the AZ market, buying dispensary management companies and making other large investments throughout the state. The cannabis business will grow at a slower rate than our adjoining legal states, but still contribute much to the economy under the current medical law. Most people think it will eventually be legal in all states soon. Investors and consultants are setting themselves up in business within the law and are also preparing for the future. New products and product lines are brought to market and management contracts are being signed. Weed is big business, a growth business. The expanding market will be served in new ways, yet to be discovered. This is an interesting segment to watch. What are the marijuana laws in your state, gentle reader?
cannabis
cannabis
cannabis
#TeaTuesday Dewey Cherry
July 4, 2017
— 1 Comment
Brewing Dewey Cherry
Nothing says summer more than the taste of ripe cherries. I get excited when the various kinds of cherries show up in the grocery store every year. They all make me happy, from the tart to the white Mt. Ranier. The fun of sucking them off the pit never fails to please me. I keep the pits in my mouth for a while because they have their own flavor. All the cherries we eat are imported from other places, so they are pricey by the time we buy them. There is one cherry I can count on all year to deliver that tangy special taste. That is my Dewey Cherry tea from Adagio. I am drinking it this week to accompany all the fruit we are enjoying.
I think it is a pretty good symbolic 4th of July drink because many Americans associate the holiday with George Washington. We may know little about his life, but we have all heard the story of his cherry tree. It is also red in color, so it brightens up the look of the party table. A dessert in itself, it naturally aligns with all fruit flavored sweets such as pie. The slight sharpness of the tart cherry cleanses the palette between samples of sticky sweet samples. It would be the perfect drink for a pie eating contest.
Serving this as a cocktail base leaves the options open. It would be delicious combined with whipped or black cherry vodka, or some rum. I like to make tea cocktails very weak in alcohol so they are drinkable and tasty, but not too psychoactive. I like to micro dose. You could add a splash of this tea to a Pimm’s Cup, designed to be consumed all day while watching tennis matches. The color and taste match well with this legendary beverage.
So, if you are watching Wimbledon today, or celebrating the American Independence (from those fabulous Brits) I can recommend the fantastic fruity flavor of Dewey Cherry to enhance your festivities. Enjoy it straight up or with a little shot of your favorite alcohol. Drink it in good health, gentle readers. Cheers!
Pimm’s Cup
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