Back in December 2016, I created a running document for jotting any writing material that did not belong anywhere in the longer pieces I was working on at the time. Whenever I opened this particular doc, I would start off by typing the day’s date before anything else. Besides just having a regular place to house my random writings, I thought it could possibly be a good way to foster a better habit of dating all of my material. It turns out that it can be a frustrating predicament when trying to work with older material that only shows the month and day without the year or is missing the entire date altogether. Putting together fragments of the past into appropriate time frames, and lacking a sharp and snappy memory recall to do so arbitrarily, creates an annoying sort of challenge.
 
So anyway, by utilizing the above-mentioned document whenever it came in handy, I ended up with a patchy kind of journal which moves in sequential order from December through all the months that followed. It is an amalgam of ideas, events and emotions, both with and without rhyme or reason – lots to share and some definitely to spare.
 
… And from this document, I draw my list of snippets:
 
December 2nd
I do not understand what is happening. What is happening?
 
December 19th
The joys of puppy parenthood. Biff and Dacks had been at my house for four days with no accidents. We went for walks on two of those days (tried our best at least – more like them still trying to walk me). It was morning on the fourth day, and Biff did not allow me the usual leeway of time between waking me up and going out to pee. He woke me up by leaping on the bed and standing on top of me, then jumped right off the bed as I sat up, and immediately started peeing on a brand new carpet. I threw a pair of my jeans, the quickest accessible item, directly under his steady stream and caught most of it.
 
Following this lovely episode, I took both pups downstairs to let them outside. Biff somehow nuzzled his way through my legs and the doorway, instantly realized he was not tethered, and took off on a five-minute adventure of freedom. Dacks noisily bounced around inside while he waited for Biff to return from his little romp. (He eventually listened and came back to the house like a good boy.)
 
I went to a friend’s house later that same day for lunch. I was gone for about 2 ½ hours. This was the exact amount of time I was gone the day before when my puppies were little angels, both of them hanging out in the living room instead of going in their crates while I was away. This time around was a different story. I arrived home to find all of the dirt and leaves from one of my grandmother's plants haphazardly spread out all over both of the couches in the room.
 
Things did not really improve, as our evening walk got cut extremely short because I first had to collect an entire box worth of shredded tissues strewn about the living room floor. If I did not retrieve the tattered pieces fast enough, I knew Dacks would happily eat all of it. He has an uncanny fondness for paper products.
 
December 24th
Road trip.
 
December 25th
I am certain that I have never experienced a Christmas quite like this one before… The holidays this year are a cruel joke of nightmarish proportions.
 
December 28th
I recently watched a documentary called “Somm” about four sommeliers studying to take their Master Sommelier Exam. Now I fully understand why Master Sommeliers are paid the big bucks. The exam that they must pass in order to earn their title is considered one of the hardest exams in the world! It is precisely the kind of exam that I would love to complete just for the sole purpose of seeing how substantially I would fail.
 
January 25th
I am trapped in a Catch 22.
 
January 26th
When you run out of money to buy more dog treats, you just have to make your own! My dogs seem to really like them. But then again, dogs eat poo, so I don’t really know if that’s saying much.
 
February 5th
I am going to be a grandmother! Say what!? I am pretty sure my first spectacular response to this news was, “Holy f***!”
 
I do give my son and his girlfriend props for the way they shared this wild information with me, as it was done in a clever way in which they did not have to say anything at all! Instead, I told myself the stunning news as I read aloud what was written on the coffee mug they made for me:
 
“I need this coffee cause I am going to be a grandma.”
 
Priceless. What was even better is after they made the rounds to inform various family members that they were going to be having a baby, they found out that they were having twins! Yup. So they had to make the rounds a second time to let everyone know there was going to be two! Just wild.
 
February 13th
The sun shines for everyone.
 
February 14th
What part of our failure to communicate comes from our own brokenness?
 
February 18th
I do NOT believe that needing another person is a sign of weakness. It does mean that at times, you may have to sit with feelings of vulnerability, which can be a scary place to be. But using that reasoning to blame others for your own actions is a copout.
 
February 25th
Being supportive does not always equate to taking someone’s side.
 
March 7th
Women work through the emotions so they don’t fall apart.
 
March 16th
These are not my words, and I do not remember where I heard them. But I wholeheartedly agree: Spend your time on those who love you unconditionally. Don't waste it on those who only love you when the conditions are right for them.  
 
March 24th
I am me. No other way to be. I may discover how to grow into better or stronger versions over the years, but the genuine essence of my core self will always remain true at heart.
 
April 7th
Dreaming of tornadoes
 
April 28th
A heart made of patches.
 
When a hurt sits so deeply embedded somewhere within the intricate wirings and rushing whispers of our hearts, it can become covered and lost, with never a chance to heal.
 
No wonder so many people dream of being a superhero.
 
When you arrive at a place of core contradiction. When you realize that you no longer understand a person you thought you knew so well. When an approach to a specific value is so vastly different, and you are submerged in this warped-like lengthy stretch of life when perplexing circumstances keep pummeling you in the gut. But rather than springing back like finely chiseled abs, your gut is recessed in a state of tension as uncertainties begin to tango away all of your oxygen and strength.
 
Talk to people. Say something. Scream. Find healthier ways to share your anger so that it does not one day explode in detriment.
 
April 29th
When meaningful words become fluff.
 
When a person closes every door, there’s a point when all that’s left to do is be grateful for being shown how very much more you deserve.
 
May 5th
A few months ago, I decided to nix my first-ever-tweet about my “Go Fund Me” campaign. My initial dilemma was a “blah” level of interest in increasing the amount of time I spent looking at my laptop screen. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I did not care to encounter the word “tweeting” every day at a time when the topic of birds made me too emotional. Soon after that, I closed my campaign. I remain a non-tweeter.
 
May 10th
Maybe we just get stuck on a different part of the story… a different page once in a while. Our individual pace slows or hastens, possibly even steadies for some time. It's when the pages become blurred and soon read separate struggles, somehow far from those you love. It is then when it becomes even more important to allow others (and yourself) the time to navigate alternate storylines. Even in the midst of any disconnect, we should be able to trust that those who love us have our back throughout the fog, remaining honest and dependable until we arrive on the same page together once again. And if that does not happen, then it might be time to recognize that you belong in completely separate books.
 
May 13th
The moon is exactly half of its size tonight. Equal parts. 50/50. Balanced.
 
June 18th … at 1:20 am
A bird is tweeting and chirping away, all lively and loud as if enjoying morning daylight. Technically, it is the wee hours of the morning. But still…. silly bird.
 
July 17th
Spartan. I have always been drawn to the notion of not knowing what challenge I will encounter next in an obstacle course. Loved and looked forward to every water station. Scouting out shadier spots for setting up the stations would definitely lead to some cooler water on a such a super-sunny hot day, but every sip was quite refreshing nonetheless! A rewarding (and sometimes painful) experience.
 
July 18th
Dear Mr. President Who Did Not Want to Leave Any Child Behind: You prompted an upheaval of our educational system which, over time, exacerbated into a stinking heap of mandates that smothered the very soul of what really matters about learning and teaching.
 
July 19th
All of us fall off the planet at certain times. It is so easy to fill our days with the musts and shoulds and needs and have-tos, and easily negate any wants because no time remains. Then one day you realize you have fallen so out of touch and must focus on finding your way back to a place of balance again.
 
One beautiful thing about genuine friendship is that our true friends in life, the ones who really know us and understand all the ins and outs and ups and downs of who we are – they love you no matter what. They forgive at times it is needed. They embrace your faults and weaknesses without judgment. They allow you to experience the world as you need to, for yourself as an individual. They even take the time to call you out on your shit if you are being ignorant somehow and need to expand your perspective or change your outlook.
 
Vibrant sun. Brilliant blue sky. Calm, wispy clouds. Air light with low humidity. A refreshing gentle breeze – a zephyr! (good word). When you pause to soak in God's beauty, no matter what you are doing or where you are, it is often a reminder to be thankful. To experience for even a moment, the peacefulness and awe of grandeur that exists in nature… it is intense, translucent. Undeniably compelling.
 
August 3rd
What it all boils down to is that every single person on the planet is anal in some respect. When two people are able to accept each other's "anal-ness" and still be copacetic, it is a good bond they share. On the other hand, when those areas of anal qualities do not mesh, someone in the equation will always feel misunderstood. (Profound, I know.)
 
August 6th
I love working in my outdoor cubicle.
 
August 9th
My grandbabies are here! Beautiful identical twin girls!
 
Going into her second day of labor (yes, almost two full days!), their mom described the pain she was feeling as “sunburn on the inside”.  I appreciated the analogy. Definitely one I had never heard before.
 
The “grandmother” part is still sinking in; and I am still trying to decide what they will call me. (The usual terms do not speak to me.)
 
August 15th
I saw Kermit the Frog in the clouds today!
 
Decide to let go, and choose not to live in fear.
 
August 17th
Why is it when things seem to be going fairly well, something comes along to knock you on your ass? Literally! I got thrown onto my ass yesterday on a slippery deck! I wisely (yeah right… not thinking at all) stepped down onto a wet deck from a standing position on top of a bench seat. Next thing I know, my foot flies out from under me, and I hover in midair (a slow motion moment) as my whole weight shifts, and the middle of my back slams against the edge of the fixed wooden bench now behind me. It thrust my head back with such force that it caused an instantaneous headache. I think I felt my brain bounce against the back of my skull. I was immediately thankful that it was my back and not my head that hit the bench for that would not have been a pleasant outcome. Nope, not by any means. Hopefully, my neck will not be feeling the aftereffects of whiplash for too long.
 
September 3rd
How is it September already? It is really weird not to be stressing about the start of a new school year.
 
I love how Salvador Dali writes in the same style as his art.
 
September 7th
For no particular reason, I decided to research the 50 state quarters that were released by the United States Treasury. In doing so, I discovered that I could not name all five of the permanent territories of the United States: American Samoa, Guam, Northern Mariana Islands, Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands. So I created an acrostic poem. The first letter of each line going down in the poem creates an acronym, basically a mnemonic device to help me remember the territories. I figured at least this way, there is a small chance I will be able to recall each territory again at some point down the road (as long as I first remember my senseless poem). Otherwise, this info will not hold any space in my long term brain recollection data collection area.
 
My acrostic poem:
A
Great
North
Pole...
Um
 
… which later became “A Great North Pole Umbrella” – thanks to Birdman’s input. The selection of words starting with “u” that I was coming up with did not fit well in my cool little poem. So naturally, I settled on “...um” (brilliant). Umbrella it is!
 
October 1st
I have never read Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, and I have owned the book for at least 20 years. Maybe it is time to finally read it. I came across this Walden excerpt the other day, and I absolutely love it:
 
"I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion, as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." 

​The alcohol-related piece that I just posted on September 29th was initially started about eight months ago, at the beginning of February. I looked at it maybe once or twice a month since then, adding a sentence here and there if inspired, never really having an urgent intent to get it done. The ending is awkward in my opinion… definitely not quite right. I posted it anyway. It just needed to end! Moving on…
 
I will add though, in response to a question I received, that I really enjoy the darker beers – porters and stouts to be exact. (Have you ever tried a pale stout? Yum.) Black IPAs are at the top of my list right now, too.

​Let’s jump right in… to alcohol! May its liquid flow fill the thirsty void since my last post. [Epic splash.]
 
Fully plunged and bobbing in the boozy waves, let’s teeter (no, not from tipsiness) into a sidestroke for a few refreshing rounds:
 
Tasting different styles of wine and beer, homebrews and craft beers in particular, has been an interest of mine for many years. Other than exploring homemade concoctions, I have purchased my share of wine and beer for dinner parties and other festive occasions, or purely to sample some new varieties; thus, I am very familiar with the finely polished tasting descriptions written on the labeling for a multitude of selections. A lover of language, how could I possibly pass on reading all those tasty selling points prior to making my purchase!
 
Every so often while trolling about a beer distributor or liquor store, I stumble across wine and beer labels with notably cheesy descriptions, or ones with amusing anecdotes that creatively capture the oh-so-magical qualities of a certain beverage. Other times, the labeling does not tell me squat about the product aside from the basic variety. And every once in while, the whole selection process becomes adventuresome (in my mind at least) when there is really no information offered whatsoever, and I end up purchasing an unspecified substance out of sheer curiosity… So what if I might linger too long in liquor store aisles.
 
Drifting along on this intoxicating dip, let’s float to the first wine I ever sampled and enjoyed as a legal-aged (ahem) drinker: Lambrusco. For those who have never tried Lambrusco before, it is a sweet red wine with the tiniest touch of fizz to it. I found it to be quite refreshing at the time, not to mention inexpensive and sold by the gallon.
 
During those fine Lambrusco days of yore, I worked with a wonderfully feisty woman in her early seventies who overheard when I ordered a glass of it at the end of a shift one evening. She said to me, “Oh Karen, you just wait until you develop your palate. You won’t be able to stand that stuff anymore; you just wait. My goodness – It’ll be too darn sweet!”
 
In response to her claim, my first thought was, “Um…okay, cool.” My second thought consisted of peaked interest because I did not know much about the palate of a wine-drinker; hence the entire idea of “developing your palate” by drinking different wines, highly intrigued me. My third thought, which only surfaced after I had begun my own research and exploration of the topic, was basically: “Palate… Palette… Pallid… I mean, what the frick English language! Really?”
 
Back to the wine though, I suppose years of sipping an array of reds has jazzed up my palate to some extent, as I am unable to stand the abundant sweetness of Lambrusco any longer. The simple thought of drinking an entire glass is closely tantamount to the splatted waves of a terrifically awful belly-flop. I now contemplate whether Lambrusco could plausibly be classified in a category other than wine – maybe one like “nigh wine" … kind of like “near beer”... if you get my drift. An ideal beverage to mix in a summer spritzer or sangria of some sort.
 
In more recent years, my “spirited” sampling pursuits expanded to other types of liquor on the market: gin, tequila, occasionally bourbon or scotch, and whiskey in particular. A few months ago, I happened upon a bottle of Bastille 1789, a French whisky (spelled like so on the label) that earned the gold medal for the International Review of Spirits Award in 2013. The characteristics of this winning whisky are deftly depicted in its overall assessment: 

​I distinguished two particular elements from this finely-crafted piece of writing:
 
1.     I don’t know jack about the palate of a whiskey connoisseur.
2.     I apparently ought to lick some suede and limestone.
 
Regarding the second point, I guess anyone could speculate how suede or limestone might taste based on the distinctive smell of each one. Even though comprised in an intriguing repertoire, I know that I personally will not be licking, chewing, or consuming any types of leather or sedimentary rock any time soon. Nor will I be attempting to delve into the science involved in breaking down either element in order to analyze the diets of the world – I would end up dissecting that crap for weeks! And likely not remember any of it.
 
When I read the Bastille 1789 description, it was the first time I palpably took notice of a drink review that specified materials unfit for human consumption; not a part of any cultural fare I am yet privy to, at least. The interesting aspect after tasting this whisky, is that the notes of suede and limestone completely made sense – and at that moment is when I realized, I do not know jack about a whiskey drinker’s palate. My taste buds are enlightened.
 
Now for the last lap of this liquid trip, let’s dock at Hidden River Brewing Company for a few pints of frothy ingenuity (which you can literally do, by the way). I thought I knew a fair amount about beer… I thought I knew a fair amount beer until I started tasting a gamut of ever-changing small-batch selections at Hidden River: an exceptional weekly perk among pub crew duties. Without a doubt, I am soused with an enhanced appreciation for the vast reasons why brewing craft beer is considered an art form. The whole perpetual process entails quite an intensive network of hops and yeasts and flavorful ingredient options, and the constant commingling of brewing styles and fermentation methods. I could swim in an Olympic-sized beer vat of brewing knowledge for months and months, and still not absorb the barrels of information floating around.
 
So while docked at Hidden River, it is quite feasible that you will become familiar and fond of a certain beer or two on tap (okay fine, sometimes all twelve). Then one day, ‘tis no more! Or as I like to say, “So good, so gone.”
 
But no worries! The river journey recommences with the next colorful chalk revelations of whichever fresh, refreshing beers are newly tapped. A myriad of creativity. Local flavors. Good people. Chill pace. Historic atmosphere. Many smiles. Adaptation. Anticipation. Fantastic beer. Inviting characteristics infused in the “House Culture” at Hidden River Brewing Company. Or as the beautiful Jillian likes to say, perhaps with an appealing hint of silky moxie in her tone: “A hidden gem.”
 
So now that we are docked, let’s wrap up this effervescent trip with an instantaneous cascade to one of my initial stops on this boozy float: The various types of labeling tactics used by beverage companies for promotional advertising. During my fleeting dip into this topic, some questions buoyed to the smooth surface of my choppy mind. Do writers come up with tasting descriptions based on their own product expertise? Or do writers transform an accredited taster’s notes into the skillfully written snapshots we often see on our market shelves? Or, do companies only hire accredited field experts who also happen to be great writers? Maybe all of the above apply, who knows. Food for research… Liquid for research, in this case. 
 
Whatever way it works, this is a facet of writing I most certainly enjoy. Sifting ideas and details, forming a translation that keenly captures the essence of a given product. It is a process that involves the exploration of chaos, and mulling around in that chaos until arriving at a sound analysis. It is the creative challenge of taking hold of jumbled clutter and carefully choosing and arranging words and filtering relevant elements into a seamless sketch of core substance and distinct purpose. The pure nature of any item in the spotlight, nailed precisely.
 
As for palate, palette, and pallid – it is no wonder why English is considered one of the hardest languages to learn! The lexicon includes three words all pronounced the same way but spelled differently and defined separately. Brilliant. A language brimming with a baffling quantity of conundrums and rule exceptions. No wonder I like it so much.

My writing continues in fluid streams of hydration. My writing continues in trickles. My writing continues as the very last drops squeezed from a lemon. Even through the obscurity of the thirsty void, I remain sincere in my writing endeavor. Livingood Lately will probably always run like a river zigzags, maneuvering in sporadic directions, far from the exacting shorelines of any set course. In channels with forward movement, I will still try to siphon a pattern of steady flow from the ever-shifting undercurrent. 
 
Cheers!

I recently got this little guy at a yard sale thinking he could be a silly muse or something of the sort. I am usually drawn to turtles; I appreciate their slower pace. But there were no turtles available, so I figured why not change things up a bit with a snail…

So is it a bad sign that this happened? My goodness. Sigh.

Okay, so I admit, it has been more than a little bit difficult to find any gumption to open my laptop lately, after finishing a job which entailed thousands and thousands of hours of sitting in front of a computer screen. Yes, I have been writing the good ol’ fashioned way, computer lid closed, pen in hand. But in addition to writing, I have been busy surrounding myself with as much positivity as possible.
 
It is funny (not in the “ha ha” sense) how life has a way of knocking you down when you are finally just starting to buoy back to an upright position. I recently began a new journey to embrace life more fully again, and sadly, I am traversing this journey alone. My home is upsettingly empty, with only myself and my twenty-one-year-old son going about our days. Although very alive and well (thank God), my husband, my two stepchildren, and my puppies are no longer here, and I miss them tremendously. I am still trying my best to find some joy and love in life every day, but it has been really hard to do so while untangling knots of such sadness at the same time. Some days are downright awful.
 
One of the ways I decided to seek more joy and positive energy was to challenge my thoughts, which so easily skew to the negative, by reinforcing notions of encouragement. My sister-in-law once told me to use daily, positive affirmations to shape a more positive outlook on life. Since I am no longer required to work for what seemed like every single minute of every single day, I could finally put some time into building my scaffolding of daily affirmations. And if there is one thing I know for sure about myself, it is that the act of creating something new fosters a sense of balance somehow. As I very much feel precariously perched on a wilted tree branch right now, perhaps it is in my best interest to go on fueling my creativity as much as imaginable.
 
Until I thought about the daily affirmations project, I honestly did not give a hoot about what I made – I just really needed to live and breathe some positivity and creativity. It turns out that I merged my love of quotes (the English teacher in me), and my enjoyment of all-things-crafty, and ended up making a bunch of display art. Most of the quotes and pictures included are ones which I have gathered over the years. My main purpose for the crafty displays was to make it as utterly difficult as possible to not happen across some reassurance of positivity during each and every day, even if it meant displaying it where I clearly could not miss it. One collection of sayings is now staring back at me whenever I look up from my desk. (Pictures of the different items I made are posted on my Whatever Floats page.)
 
Even though my heart happened to be crushed (keepin’ it real) right as it was finally feeling whole again since my dad’s passing, I refuse to allow myself to completely veer off the map again by letting my hopes and dreams get trampled down to smithereens. All trails lead to somewhere… Isn’t that what they say (whomever “they” are)? Someone recently shared an expression with me that his mother has always said to him time and time again throughout the years:
 
               Everything we are given in life is either a gift or a lesson.
 
I am not sure which one represents my current struggle, but I sure do hope it brings brighter days in the end. 

I had no issues with taking my pups for walks together until recently when I returned home from a one-week visit with my sister. Biff and Dacks looked like they grew during the short time I was gone, but I was not aware that they miraculously developed super puppy powers while I was away. 

A couple days after getting back from my sister’s, I decided to take the puppies to the dog park so they could run around for a bit. Up until that point, for never having owned a dog before, I thought I was doing a semi-decent job of training Biff and Dacks. They started to get excited from the moment we pulled into the parking lot. By the time I opened the car door to let them out, they launched their incredible energy all over me: As soon as their paws touched the ground, they haphazardly dragged me on foot across the stones in the parking lot, and then yanked me in two different directions as soon as we hit the sidewalk; this lovely torque made me trip and step right onto Biff, which rightfully caused him to yelp horribly; Biff's cry amped up Dacks, so Dacks then tugged me sideways, which is when I was ultimately knocked over onto my butt. And there I sat… on my ass... in the cold dirt, while the puppies continued to geek out about all the other dogs coming and going around us. 

Eventually, I finally mustered the will to stand up, and slowly walked directly back to my car – puppies now totally cooperative of course (how nice of them). They did not get to run around inside the park as we never even made it to the gate! I felt badly about leaving, but the whole sequence of events left me somewhat stunned and rather embarrassed, and pretty much shot every ounce of my own energy down the tubes. After all that went down, I did not feel like such a good puppy trainer anymore. Nope, not so much. (To be honest, I am a little afraid to take them out on walks by myself at all now lest I get pummeled and dragged down the trail if something sparks their excitement!)