Deep in the Heart. Of Here. Now.
Hello new readers/old friends. Thanks for clicking 'round to this 12-year old blog. Take a breath. A good deep one. I was told by a lovely yogi years ago that Americans could turn their worlds upside down if they'd just stop 12 times a day and take a deep breath. Do it. At least take one.
Stop hurrying for a sec. This won't take long. I only want to tell you what happened at my 12th breath today...
I unpublished over 400 blog posts from this site. It was in the fidgety, wee, no-sleep hours of the morning. This was my rationale for archiving about 250,000 words at 3 AM (point of reference, the average adult novel is 70K-120K words long, so I ditched 2-3 novels - poof!):
1. It was time. I started writing here in September of 2008, with the express intent of directing people down a path of Hope - right behind Barack Obama. After that was done I was hooked, and found myself sitting at this blank Blogger page every day, believing people enjoyed my musings on the struggle to reach for better when things seemed - always - to be getting worse. Yep, that was true even in 2008.
2. I thought I was a novelist for about six years. Of course a lofty writer of literary fiction had no time to blog. Ugh...I am so very over that. Which is a story of embitterment best left on the pile of Regrets That Aren't Helping.
3. In all honesty, I dropped blogging almost completely in the darkness that descended upon us all in November of 2016. I had random posts about things that pissed me off (sooo many things), but who really wants/needs to read that? Those posts were the first to go this morning, and then like a purging maniac I dumped the rest.
So here we are. Post #1 of a re-birth of hope. Maybe. At least it's the new start of thinking in pieces/peaces. I'm intent, this time, on building a community. I will respond to comments and I will moderate meanness. I hope you'll end up engaging with others here. You will find this, eventually, on Substack, which seems to be a growing platform for writers and readers to meet up. Topics will be as wild and varied as in any good chat - things from The Kids Still Love Mario? to Shouldn't Politicians Tell the Truth?.
And anything else that Must Be Pondered.
If this piques your interest, here's what you might want to know about me:
I'm a Texan. One of the cool ones who live in Austin, so try not to hold Ted Cruz or John Cornyn against me (ew!). We vote blue where I live. To tell you the truth, though, it's getting harder and harder to feel very happy about telling people I live in Texas. It's edging close to the feeling I began to have 20 years ago about letting people know I was a Christian.
I'm a "re-thinking it all" church lady. Another one of the Regrets That Aren't Helping. I doubt I'll ever darken the door of another religious place (could read palace in some instances) - though I often enjoy the company of spiritual people from a wide, inclusive circle of faith practices. These are some of the best conversations, and I'm especially enjoying the ones that begin with me confessing I don't give Deity a moment's thought anymore.
I'm a news geek. My first career was in news, and I've never really left that behind. In fact, it could be argued by people who've known me forever that I have always wanted to be the first person to hear about something so I could be the first to retell the story. Secret-Keeper is not my strength. Story telling is my passion.
I'm a Myers-Briggs INFP. An Enneagram 2 (solid, dysfunctional 2). A Sagittarius. True Colors Blue. I take all of these narratives about me with the circumspect interest of a child discovering finger paints: Is this fun or is it just too messy to bear? Depends on the day.
I'm a person who writes/doodles/paints in a journal almost every day, sometimes for 3 or 4 hours. Sometimes 3 or 4 minutes.
I have a 20-minute yoga/meditation practice that I talk myself out of as many days as I practice.
I drink coffee black, full-bodied, super hot. I like martinis made with vodka and a generous splash of dry vermouth. Which somehow makes it a wet martini. Go figure. Extra olives.
My significant supporting roles in life are: sister, wife, mom, aunt, gramma, friend.
I don't like the sound of chewing, mansplaining, or water running. But I do love the sound of the ocean, kind words, and children giggling.
I'm the person who doesn't believe a small Black Lives Matter sign in her yard will ever be enough, and the neighbors will have to get over the 4'x14' banner on the lawn.
I am not easily persuaded to follow a crowd or group think.
I swear. Sometimes I can't avoid colorful language when I write, but I wouldn't say it's embedded in my work. That said, I must confess to shopping the domain name theswearinggramma. Thanks 2016-2020.
I love sunsets, conversations about things that matter, beautiful music, and the truth. You will never read anything here parading as fact that hasn't been checked and double checked. I was a journalist in a past life. I know how to fact check. Then again, so does Tucker Carlson. You'll have to trust me or fact check me, which will never be disrespected here.
I still want to be a Writer when I grow up. "Writers write," said a kickass author to me once upon a time, long ago.
So that's why I'm here. Again. Writing.
I hope you'll visit often, chime in, join the Community of Pondering as we think in fragments and pieces in a place where that is done respectfully. Peacefully.