Pandemic journal prompts

I feel like one of the best things we can do during this pandemic is to keep a journal.  In case you need some inspiration for yourself or your homeschooling students, I found some interesting questions and 

created a list of prompts, adding a few more of my own. Click the image above to save and print. 

If you prefer to copy and paste your questions, instead of printing out the questionnaire, here you go! 

Questions for journaling during Covid-19 Pandemic

What did the government announce/declare/implement today? 

Does it impact your life? Why or why not? How did your family respond?

What is open in your neighborhood? What is closed? What does your neighborhood 

look like? Are people walking around?

How is today different from yesterday for you, your family, our nation, the world?

Do you see any examples of racism, privilege, and income inequality in any of the events that happened today? (Locally, at the state level, nationally, or the world?)

Did you see anything today that gave you hope? Anxiety? Fear? 

(In person, in the news, or on social media?)

What does your family need today that you might not have, have enough of, 

or have no access to acquire? What do you and your family have that others 

may need?

How are you spending your time? Who are you social distancing with?

What is currently bringing you the most comfort?

What are your favorite foods, games, friends, electronic apps, television shows?

What are the worries you’re concerned about at this time?

What things have stayed the same for you during the pandemic?

Two thousand and seventy posts.

I can hardly believe this will be number 2,070. I've posted a lot throughout the years and yet rarely return to read them. The recipe section has been helpful, although I've succeeded at avoiding the rest. The other posts, I am happy exist, even if I don't want to see them. I hear of celebrities who don't watch the films they star in. Which seems preposterous, but I get it. It feels like a no win situation. I will likely cringe at the sight of most of these essays. Especially the ones that are dripping with self righteous advice or motherly counsel. Gotta love mothering advice from someone who has been a mom all of a year and a half. The posts that are decent, I will feel guilt I abandoned my writing practice so early on. And of course the mom guilt sets in for the fact that there are so many posts about my sweet firstborn, baby Benji and hardly any description about our other two, who are equally as sweet and adorable.

I hope to describe them accurately in future posts as I see they change so rapidly. My heart feels consumed with loving them and knowing them and observing them, the writer in me wants to describe every inch of raising them. I battle with being fully present and also taking constant notes about who they are, what they said, and how they feel so fresh from heaven. Seth, age 6, talks regularly about his Opa and will bring him up in casual conversation without any prompting. I feel like my dad is their guardian angel in a very real way. The way that Opa is in their thoughts more so than ever before makes me think their open, unjaded souls can possibly feel heaven more clearly and closely than I can. (Matthew 18:4 Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.)

I remembering hearing the phrase the more you know, the more you know you do not know. I am beginning to see that within myself more clearly these past few months. Oi vey, I cringe at what I thought I knew. Ignorance really is bliss and childhood is wasted on the young and all that. Perhaps it is harder for me to write these days because of this feeling of not knowing. I feel uncertain in so many subjects and the written word feels so solid. I want to write but also want the ability to erase and make new drafts and not be so harshly judged on the words I put down. Even if it's just me playing the critic.

However I plan to keep posting as I have the past few days - it is a small new habit but I do feel lighter. I feel like this is a good direction for me to go, as I have been quite directionless lately. I have a lot of healing to do and the best way I know how to understand what I am going through is by writing it out. I can only hope and work toward making the next two thousand posts better than the last.

"Ancora Imparo" is famously attributed to Michaelangelo at 88 years of age.
I am still learning.

am a fan

+ I am currently revamping our living room and when seeking inspiration, I landed into Anna Spiro's gorgeous book. I love that it chock-full of decorating advice, saturated colors, mixing patterns (my fave) and celebrates collecting things you love for your home. Homebody by Joanna Gaines is also a great resource for getting started!

+ Speaking of interior design inspiration, Karin Bohn is a new find and I love her youtube channel. She seems to be an incredible boss lady - running her own company in Vancouver and also such a likable person, sharing lots of tips and tricks. I appreciated her inside look on remodeling her own townhouse.

+ I am reading the Wizard of Oz for the first time to my boys and am discovering the fun of reading a familiar classic story aloud again. We are all loving it and I am doing my best at all the voices. Their aunt is taking them to the play in a few weeks and then we are going to Wicked next month (hip, hip!), so it'll be all kinds of magic this season. I love that they're still young and love this kind of simple activity with me.

+ My friends turned me onto Madewell earrings. They're trendy, adaptable and casual without breaking the bank. They also may have turned me on to clearance velvet shoes.

+ My two year and I love these interactive recipe board books. They are darling and beautifully illustrated. Claire loves all the tabs and pulls. We have the Cookies and Pancakes books in our library.

+ Clinique cleansing balm and Belif moisturizer have been my all-stars in rotation this year and never fail. Some beauty guru got me hooked on these too.

+ A dear friend introduced me to the scent Philosykos by Diptyque. It's absolutely unique and memorable. If you like grapefruit, you'll love their Oyedo scent and Do Son is freshly delightful too.

+ This cozy classic Pendleton blanket. My obsession with blankets is not going away anytime soon. This reminds me of my dad and Dan.

+ Mercury glass lamps. I have my eye on this one.

+ This TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert got me thinking about writing and creating. It's ten years old, yet still applicable. I completely loved and could relate easily to the following passage:

I had this encounter recently where I met the extraordinary American poet Ruth Stone, who's now in her 90s, but she's been a poet her entire life and she told me that when she was growing up in rural Virginia, she would be out working in the fields, and she said she would feel and hear a poem coming at her from over the landscape. And she said it was like a thunderous train of air. And it would come barreling down at her over the landscape. And she felt it coming, because it would shake the earth under her feet. She knew that she had only one thing to do at that point, and that was to, in her words, "run like hell." And she would run like hell to the house and she would be getting chased by this poem, and the whole deal was that she had to get to a piece of paper and a pencil fast enough so that when it thundered through her, she could collect it and grab it on the page. And other times she wouldn't be fast enough, so she'd be running and running, and she wouldn't get to the house and the poem would barrel through her and she would miss it and she said it would continue on across the landscape, looking, as she put it "for another poet." And then there were these times -- this is the piece I never forgot -- she said that there were moments where she would almost miss it, right? So, she's running to the house and she's looking for the paper and the poem passes through her, and she grabs a pencil just as it's going through her, and then she said, it was like she would reach out with her other hand and she would catch it. She would catch the poem by its tail, and she would pull it backwards into her body as she was transcribing on the page. And in these instances, the poem would come up on the page perfect and intact but backwards, from the last word to the first.

Switching gears and changing lanes

On the last day of the year in 2018, I received an incredibly helpful piece of advice at a New Year's Eve party. It came by way of chatting with a real writer, a friendly woman named Ruth, who I had met just hours earlier. She recently found out her novel is going to be published! Wow. I felt so happy for her. Truly! What a huge feat. That's the coolest. I grilled her with writer-y questions and (gasp) confided that I too like to write. (Hmmm. Inner monologue eye roll. You may as well be telling her you are a tennis player. Haven't picked up a racket nor a pen in forever. No, more like, foreeeeevvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeerrrrrrr.) In our chatting I became enthused that I could / should practice writing again. Yet another nudge for me to write stuff down. Well-meaning, dear friends have been telling me to do so for a few months now. I've brushed them off. Funny when a perfect stranger's advice can waken your senses more than your own mother's (husbands, best friends, siblings, etc). Or more like, a perfect stranger gives you advice in a similar vein to what your own mother has been saying all along, and you perk up and take it for what its worth. Humans are funny creatures. (Other lessons: Listen to your mother. Moms can never win. Also, moms never get the credit. Moms are the best. Moms always know.)

Still at this very low point of my writing career (ha. career. as if.), I still think about writing. Almost daily. More than I ever think about playing tennis. Doesn't that count for something? Like a nagging younger sibling, wearing a ball cap backwards and an unhitched strap on her overalls, my wannabe-written-words want attention. In recent years I've programmed myself to ignore the urge to write anything down. Nap. Dishes. Scroll Instagram. Bathe. Read. Podcast. Laundry. Mrs. Maisel. Seinfeld. Meghan Markle news. Bake. Organize a cupboard or two. Rearrange furniture. Of course none of these activities are as satisfying as having written. Like scanning the channels even when there is nothing good on. Its a numbing way of distraction. Distraction of actually caring to put real thought into something. I've sometimes thought, as the writers-guilt gnaws away at me - usually while I try to fall asleep - it's an odd habit to try to will away something you actually want to do. My inner monologue rolls its eyes as I have these cliche writer chit chats to myself. Writers angst; as if this were a real problem in life. I can go on and on. And I have. (Did I do too many research projects on Vincent van Gogh as a teen? Am I this narcissistic / dramatic by nature or nurture?) A brilliant sparkly essay idea comes to me in the morning and I'll have talked myself into, and finally, out of writing it by lunchtime. It's a slow kind of torture we Creatives know well. I'm using that term loosely. (At least I remember how to spell loose vs. lose. Pet peeve.)

To continue lamenting, I've now curated an automatic response of pushing ideas far far down; the corners of a duvet into their cover. Last summer I searched high and low for the best duvet and coordinating duvet cover that had strings and loops which I could then tie up those corners into their places for safekeeping. No wiggling out of place. Stay put. A sure promise that at least one thing in my life was in control. Double knotted duvet. Stay in your lane. Dan was excited to learn this phrase the other day. I smiled to myself as he mentioned it (because I relish in the times when I know things before he does - it's a rare treat) and agreed. Yes, 'stay in your lane' is an extra handy phrase to keep in one's back pocket. Whether it be an athlete tweeting a response to the current President of the United States or a harmless jab in a bit of banter, it is a clever little comeback. (Or maybe a sassy judgement call that I have no business offering.)

One, I realize, am often telling myself in one way or another. Cornering myself into my current situation with a tight knot - no hope of slipping to freedom of maybe, possibly, trying out another 'lane' in life. Staying in your lane comes with benefits, I suppose. Comfort Zones feel so good. I've molded to my lane and my lane has molded to me. Stick to what you know, what you're doing, what your habits are. Stick right here. Remain status quo. Just keep doing what you're doing. No progress, no problem. No rocking the boat. Stay in your lane. Mind your own business. Don't try to think outside the box or push yourself in any way, shape or form. Progress, evolution, improvement... it is for other people.

This has been what I've been telling myself unconsciously. To be honest, my lane isn't doing anything for me anymore. Like the worn out bra that has lost its elasticity and therefore, all its function. The bra that has faded into a useless morning ritual rather than a helpful undergarment. It's time for change. I've been feeling it in my bones and all signs have been nudging me to go ahead and get out of this lane. So when I was chatting with this warmly open Ruth, over plastic cups of rice pudding on New Year's Eve, it resonated again. Another nudge.

Write your second book first.

Wait, tell me again. I heard her the first time. I just liked every word she just said so much. She had just opened my pandora's box. The advice had been discussed during a session of her monthly Writing Club. Yes, yes, of course. Making perfect sense in my mind; the first book has all the weight and pressures to succeed. All your life's courage poured into the pages of that first book. It can't possibly measure up to what you've deemed a first book should / could be. The wish to write and fear of doing so has bullied me into a tight corner. Not writing is easier than writing. Completely frustrating for someone who needs to write - yes, but easier than switching lanes, creating new habits, being courageous, switching gears, stomping out fear, and practicing rough drafts. And getting up early to make time for the thing you want to do most. I'm tucking this rough draft into my blog and promise to wake up early and write again. And again. And again. Until I'm in a new lane I hardly recognize. 2019, I'm counting on you.

a blank page. a new post. refresh button.

hooray for handmade print available in my shop.

i hear / feel / watch my thoughts rumbling around in my soul (tumble dry) and i know i need to write them. just write them. just get them down. it's simple. easy peasy. i'm a self-proclaimed writer, i do this. this should not be hard. hurry and write something decent; a pretty prose or something completely imperfect. just write. you know you know how. you know you've done it before. (oh how full of writer's guilt i've been.) and then another must-do pops up, or a nose needs to be wiped and dishes need to be done or beds need to be made or naps need to be taken and the rhythm of my to-do list shoves out my last thoughtful thought and therein i miss a moment to reflect, write and learn something from the process. letting things spill from my head to my fingers to the page. often, words i wish to be written down are not unlike the loner striped socks that remain loosely out of place, scattered and without a proper home. yet they are still persistent enough not to be thrown out entirely. they lurk in the laundry room and elsewhere. my loner socks and tumbling thoughts (admittedly) haven't been properly lined up, paired up or folded into neat drawers for what seems like months. i'm calling myself out on this.

not to say that i haven't been living a fulfilling, exciting, filled to the brim, joyful life these past non-blogging months. oh i have!! there's so much to tell. no way i can catch up. i've been so fulfilled and busy and happy, i wondered if i really needed blogging at all in this season of life. i've thought a lot about that. honestly however my mind gains clarity when i write things out. to me, crisp keys on a typewriter is as calming as lapping waves of the bluest water on the beach. sitting here, my cluttered brain sits still for awhile and i remember what discipline and practice and vulnerability and creativity mean again. frankly i am more frightened of writing it all out there like i used to. i'm out of practice and feeling vulnerable to opening up. so stay with me. i'll braven up as i type along, i'm sure (i hope).

ever thanks for the encouragement and amazing connections i still feel from you. (so thoughtful to receive emails from those of you who were concerned about little ol' me!!) i can't even begin to tell you all the good things that have come from blogging. here i am, to start anew.

xo.

to the great nora ephron

• incredible handwritten image by lisa congdon.

i was so saddened to hear the news of the passing of nora ephron. she is one of my heroes. we will be having a nora ephron movie marathon in her honor this weekend. when harry met sally, you've got mail, julie and julia, sleepless in seattle, and bewitched are among my forever faves. i especially love listening to her audio books (read the post i devoted to her in 2010). however if you read them in page format, her voice still comes through strong and clear and brilliant. you will want to be her best friend. you feel as though you understand her and you know she'd understand you. she is an incredible writer and i always put down her books (being a little sad to have finished it) with renewed gumption to write my own. to motivate another writer without writing about the topic of writing is the very essence of a great writer. 

hello two thousand twelve. / am back in business.

custom portrait created by caitlin of hue & hum.


after two weeks (and a smashing new year rolling in, many thoughtful inspiring notes of encouragement and lots of productive housewifery tasks out of the way) i'm feeling new and shiny once again. i imagine this year is going to be like a buffed up penny found on a busy sidewalk and tucked into someone's loafer. literally off on an adventure. i feel like i should give you / the blog an apology for doubting it and its awesomeness. i've come to some serious realizations. because–there is no mistaking–i take blogging very seriously.

for those of you on pins and needles, i finally found some clarity and am hoping that means better blogging in the future. (i also came across a killer recipe for those of you still eating sweets in 2012 which i'll be posting soon.) and most importantly, i had a major light bulb moment and (happily) realized it isn't writing my blog that puts me in a slump, but something else altogether. i'll give you a hint. it starts with google and ends with reader. i'm a little bit more than obsessed with reading browsing (way too many) blogs and am going to have to put a halt to some of that obsessive behavior. i figure if i can cut out kardashians, i can cut out excessive blog reading browsing. suggestions welcome. no addict likes confessing or cutting off the supply.

+ thank you for your efforts; especially in telling me why you blog, why you like blogs and why my little blog matters to you. oh my gosh, it was all so nice. and it really helped me figure stuff out. your comments are a big reason why i decided not to shut down comments. i know many bloggers find disabling comments as a helpful way to get back to basics. and i can see why in many ways; but in other ways, the organic conversation that reveals itself in the comment box is part of why blogging is so worthwhile in my eyes. so i'll keep fighting the tendency to count-the-comments and judge my self worth accordingly. more passionate writing. less writing for the masses.

+ since pinterest is my other obsessive tendency, i'll be blogging less about stuff i like, stuff i want, stuff i want you to know about, stuff that is super cute and i can't afford, stuff that i dream about, stuff i want to make someday, stuff to remember, stuff that inspires me etc. because i've probably pinned it already. so now, it's officially an extension of my blog. follow my pins here.

+ i have a bunch of clients and projects waiting in the wings, so i won't be posting daily like i used to. but i promise i'm back and ready for inspiration to hit. and when it does, i'll be writing again. (i even packed some oldies but goodies back into the shop too, just in time for valentines.)

son of a gun / my mom is an author!

marty's new book / image by tate publishing

the family is celebrating. my mom's book is published and all her hard work has been poured into the pages of this juicy western. i sat down with her (virtually, both at our respective desks) to get an intimate interview with the new author, marty ann halverson. click here to read excerpts from the book. yay, mom! we're proud of you!

Q / Give us a synopsis of your new novel.
A / Son of a Gun is the story of Jack Smith, a Texas cowboy, and Ruby, the beautiful farm girl who gives up her innocence to raise their son. When Leo Barlow, a young widower, rescues Ruby from life as a soiled dove, persecution follows. A fire on their land seems accidental until a body is found—a body with a bullet—and they all discover the truth about themselves.

Q / What was the most rewarding part of writing your novel?
A / Developing the characters—I loved giving them motivation and traits to face their challenges. It was fun to explore relationships and imagine sticky situations. How does a single girl tell her mother she's pregnant? And how does the mother react? How does a mother tell her son he's adopted? How does a boy feel when he hears about his mother's past? How does he feel when his father seems weak? Even though I made them up, I learned from these characters. Writing their back stories and watching them grow from experience convinced me I am prepared to face my challenges, too. I loved meeting imaginary friends!

Q / What was the most difficult part?
A / Writing about subjects I had no knowledge of. My uncle came up with the plot and the setting and asked me to write his book. Son of a Gun is a western that takes place in Texas, and I knew nothing about Texas, guns, horses, saloons or prostitutes in the old west. I spent days in the library and on the internet studying maps and researching Texas in order to describe the climate, landscape and events of the time. My son-in-law took me shooting and taught me to take apart a revolver so I'd know how guns work. My husband took me to a smoke shop where the owner taught me to roll cigarettes. I learned about breaking a horse, the development of a cattle town, a real grasshopper plague and the historic realities of barbed wire. I wanted the vernacular and even the swear words to be authentic, and all that research was difficult.

Q / what's your advice for a wannabe published writer?
A / Start writing. And then keep writing. Turn off your phone and apply bum glue to your chair and sit there for as long as you can every day until you're done. I've discovered that planning is the enemy of finishing. Planning a book will never get it written. You have to actually sit there and type. After you've got something written you can worry about getting it published.

Q / as a writer, what is a must-have in your office?
A / Chapstick and a thesaurus.

Q / word is, you're working on something new . . . can you give us a hint?
A / A rich American businessman was murdered mysteriously in Russia just before World War II, and I inherited the actual letters his wife wrote from Vienna as she waited for his body. His death was never resolved, and my book is the fictional account of what happened. This time around I chose a setting I'm familiar with and a subject I love studying.

dig in: marty's blog / new website / buy her book!

i like that writing in a diary is all the rage now.

it's a fad that will never fade in my book.
+ Q&A a day / five year diary.
+ julia rothman typewriter diary.
+ mom's one line a day diary.

Q+A session / managing photos & memorabilia

i would love to know how you organize your memorabilia and keep record. Do you scrapbook, use photo albums, journals (what format), yearly photo books? 

wow. this is a mighty good question. one that motivates me to get back on the saddle, so to speak. it's no secret that i am a firm believer in documenting life. i feel that it's not only therapeutic and fun but necessary for generations to come. my dad is a historian. personal stories keep his business humming. i really love that.

i've kept a diary ever since i could write. since high school i've preferred nicely bound books with blank pages. i also think spiral-bound sketch books are handy to have for letting my thoughts slide recklessly and collaging bits of memorabilia and magazine clippings. i love sketch-books with thick cotton paper (black or white), sturdy enough to get the job done. i have dozens of these sketch books that illustrate my passions from certain eras of my life. in fact, my cousin whitney (her blog, her pins) and i used to create collage books for each other on our birthdays, filled with favorite quotes and inside jokes. they are among my treasured possessions and always inspire me when i need a lift.

however, i must admit that my journal writing ebbs and flows. i've been a very bad diary-writer since last year. i am so grateful i felt the urgency to type out my experience with my miscarriage on this blog as i had no energy whatsoever to write it out in my journal. i regret that i didn't pour myself into writing at that time. though, i can't beat myself up about it now. when you are sad, you are just sad and sometimes that takes precedence over other things. sometimes healing (getting through it, surviving it, moving forward) is more important.

still, i am so glad i have at least one post from the perspective of that event while it was so raw. there is nothing like reading something from the recent moments of a life-altering event. which is why i wrote like a real writer when i got married and later, when i had a baby. i knew i wanted to capture my fresh thoughts up in those special moments. i love that quote that no one likes to write, but everyone loves to have written. i couldn't agree more. i love re-reading diary entries wherein my thoughts are all tumbling around uncertainties and i am tangled up in wondering where my life will lead. it's like a sigh of relief now knowing how some of those issues solved themselves; how those tough spots really were defining events.

and yet i love re-reading the seemingly insignificant entries too. those hold the best gems. my first graphic design job in california (the terrifying, the good, the bad and the ugly), the boys i liked in high school, our family vacations, life when dan was in law school, making ends meet (barely) as a newlywed, oh and all the christmas presents i received from the time i was six to eleven years old (for a period of my life the only thing i ever wrote down was where i went on field trips, who i sat by in class, and what i received for christmas and birthdays... you know, the super important stuff of life).

another confession. i was a big scrapper when i was in high school, when pages were filled with stickers and homemade cut out block letters. i had no fancy machines assisting me; just a pack of markers, photos, scissors, double stick tape and a long dining room table. i loved scrapbooking and am happy all my awesome prom pictures are pasted in for viewing (and ridiculing) for generations to come. later i would work at a scrapbooking store and start to despise the craft. this exposes how narrow minded i can be. once all the options (oh the options) like eyelet setters hit the scene, my love for scrapbooking petered out. i felt like i couldn't keep up. like my style didn't fit in. and when it comes to scrapbooking, if i can't do it right, i'm not going to do it at all. now that i'm older and wiser and over-myself, i am working up the guts to put together a simple scrapbook of benji's life, with narrowed-down favorite photos and memorabilia from his baby-hood.

for now, i keep yearly photo albums. i like the albums with blank space to jot the details in next to the slide-in photo insert. once benji came along the one album a year morphed into two albums a year (with extra photos stashed in my closet). mainly, my goal is simple. get digital pictures printed in small batches. i like keeping my expectations low in this area of life. if it's too complicated, i know i'll give up. i have a folder on my desktop labeled Pics to Print and i throw my favorites into the folder when i am uploading files into my iphoto albums. i upload them to wal-mart or costco's website, order a few extras for grandparents, and feel like i've accomplished something! for special occasions i like to create mini photo albums. (kolo brand has exceptional products.) i'm also delighted that my family started a christmas family scrapbook, wherein every family designs one page (front and back) summing up the bests of their year and sends out copies (with page protectors) to the siblings every christmas. flipping through it is a quick trip down memory lane. i love it and highly recommend it for large families.

when it comes to documenting my two year old, i have a lidded box that i found at michael's. it has rope handles and is decorated with sweet illustrations of tricycles and wagons and is very little boy. i think it's important that you love the album, book or box that you choose, as it will become even more special to you over the years. i put everything meaningful (that i plan on scrapbooking some day) into it. (knowing full well that it may never get put anywhere but the box.) i have saved baby shower cards, hospital bracelets, finger painted masterpieces, his newborn hat, little shoes and more. i love diving into it and knowing these precious items are in a safe place. keeping it on a shelf in his closet (with no stacks, clothes or books leaning on top of it) is the easiest way to preserve his little things. when he was only one month old i created a hard bound album all about waiting for him to come and his birthday from shutterfly and loved the results. (pictured in this post.) i also keep special treasures of mine in a hope chest that my grandma gave to me before she died. smaller items are saved in a music box. and stuff i can't seem to part with (notebooks from college, yearbooks, notes stuffed in high school lockers) are in a box somewhere in someone's basement.

and of course, the blog. i love that the blog is not only good writing practice for me, but is a daily documentation of the thoughts i am thinking, things we are doing, places we are going, roads we have traveled, photos i have taken, things i am making, ways we are living. because of that, blogging (even the most random of posts) is never a waste of time. reading other blogs inspires me in new ways of how to fold together the pages of my life; how to better my documentation. now your turn, i'd love to know, how do you document your life? what methods are you using to bottle up your best moments?

write your story.

today i am teaching a lesson in church about writing personal histories. i think the universe is trying to tell me something. or more honestly, i know Heavenly Father is sending me a message. first, i get asked to speak on a panel at ALT about blogging personal stories. next i receive many vivid impressions to write; a mix of memories from my past have landed in my mind and i know i should write them down. i resist and resist and find other things to fill up my time. then i get asked to teach this lesson about recording personal histories. after more research, prayer and renewed enthusiasm, i want to write again. there are plans in the works to make writing more of a priority, but of course blogging about them will have to wait. among other things i am headed on a little vacation soon. i promise to take my notebook with me. maybe something good will come from those pages. in the meantime, if any of you need a little jump start on writing your life down, i urge you to do some reading (and then some writing).

• How To Write a Memoir by William Zinsser / read this excerpt to get hooked. (it is worth printing and highlighting and saving.) i mentioned his book on the panel at ALT and am thrilled to have discovered Zinsser by chance. i was hurriedly browsing the books on tape at my local library the day before i headed to utah for ALT. fate!! i love his style of teaching about genuine writing. i now want to read everything he has ever written.

• John H. Groberg, Writing Your Personal and Family History. this article is a great one to read if you wonder why you should start writing your personal stories.

• travelinoma.blogspot.com / my mom blogs about writing (she is in the process of being published!) and how to dive into telling tales from your past and your family's history. start here.

• If You Want To Write by Brenda Ueland. / if you haven't picked up this book yet (one of my very favorites), after my years of mentioning (and raving about) it, i may question your judgement.

• remember the last time i got all excited to write? funny how things eb and flow.

more blogging about writing after my own personal version of march madness ends.

image source via pinterest

leaves in a library book and other quiet thoughts

we worked together collecting leaves the other afternoon. benji works energetically at whatever task is at hand. i now see what is meant when the scriptures urge us to become like a little child; full hearted and fully present. complete and true. loving and wholly trusting. forgiving and forgetting. cheerful and ever optimistic. good to the core. i am striving to become more childlike. having one as my sidekick helps me see life's important details more clearly.

we went swimming indoors yesterday morning. a spontaneous decision i made while tossing the towels in my giant swim bag. we hurried and left the house before i could remember to bring along a to do list. it was the perfect activity. we had no schedule, no time commitments, nothing pulling at my mind. we splashed in the water and kicked our legs and had the whole pool to ourselves.

i taught him the word again as he kept wanting to leap to me from the steps. again, again, he'd say. i was my favorite self and my heart felt full and lucky. he was happy as a clam and didn't seem to mind when swimming was over. no tantrum today, hooray. it wasn't so tough to wrestle him out of his swim trunks and into dry clothes. i asked myself, why don't we do this all the time? i then promised myself we'd do it more. make it a routine, a special outing for b and me. somedays i feel sad that i am not carrying his little sibling at the moment. it hits me that my second pregnancy ended too soon and i start feeling blue. but then i try to brush myself off and tell myself that the reasons will unveil themselves in due time. i then attempt to give my boy all of me. that is what i have at the moment. that is what i can do for him. i can give him my whole heart and let the worrying subside. i can wrap him up in my mothering ways and seek the brighter side of life. after swimming we treated ourselves to a wild berry smoothie from mcdonald's. we even took one to dan at work.

dan was happy and gave us kisses. my boy in the backseat sipped on the straw with puckered dimpled cheeks. i wished i had my camera with me. he looked cute in his striped shirt sipping strawberry smoothie from a straw. i thought it would make a sweet page for an alphabet book.

then there was sad news mentioned about a friend of dan's who has been battling cancer while living life to the fullest degree this past year. he passed away. the familiar pang of sadness settled into my heart. i thought of his loving wife who must learn (even moreso) about strength, faith and courage. i thought of their kids who will now cling to memories. i cried my way home. i thought of lauren, a little girl in our neighborhood who has been suffering from cancer. she, too, recently passed away, living shortly after her eleventh birthday. i wondered if somehow their families can feel the caring thoughts from acquaintances from afar. i hoped so. i hope they can somehow find love and peace and comfort in the loneliness of their sorrows. i pray they can feel God's love in a real way.

my soul is quiet for them today. i believe in families that last forever. i believe in life after death and i know death is not the end of our soul's existence. times like these i cling to that knowledge and take refuge in it like a cave in a windstorm.

i am amazed at the journey of life and the genuine undying love we can offer each other; the friendships we can build and the memories that can grow from the little moments we share. the meaningful carvings we can whittle into each other's hearts. i marvel at the way death can breathe newness into the lives of those living; to rejoice at what we have been given and let our small worries scatter away. i am ever reminded of what is right and good and important again.

again.

we will be with them again.
i know this for sure.

p.s. i will be Blogging Golightly next week so i can tie up last minute strings for the upcoming harvest boutique. am getting super excited and nervous, but mostly excited. i also have a goal to figure out what this boy will be for halloween. thank you for your purchases from the mini mart shop this week. i entirely appreciate it. your kind comments really do me good. customers who take the time to email me after receiving goodies are almost too good to be true; i can't get enough of your awesome feedback. i'll be shipping your orders tomorrow. the new harvest postcards are going fast, so please don't hesitate to snatch yours up.

it was the summer of...

2010 // it was the summer of..

splitting baskets of fresh fruit with friends.
free samples & fresh flowers at the farmer's market.
discovering that rainier cherries are better than bing.

the 'cars' movie and scattered wooden railroad tracks.
going to the zoo and going to zumba class.
hot griddle pancakes, saturday smoothies and reading The Help.

sunshine & thunderclouds, matching my own moods.
drive-by photo shoots, a new camera and favorite flip flops.
loads of good mail, keeping in touch with friends (old and new).

read the full version right here. i'm guest posting for lucinda today!
now go remember & jot down what your summer days were filled with.

unnamed

i have been intentionally moving forward with my blog to feel normal again–to gear my routine back into speed–after our traumatic event. unintentionally leaving most of you in the dark about why i was so blue a few weeks ago. thank you for being so caring and patient. the truth is, i haven't felt like writing about it. while simultaneously feeling like i must put the pen to the page and write about my experience before i forget the details. forgetfulness is my weakness. i am pulled in separate directions when it comes to expressing myself. like right now, i wonder if the blog is the best place to put my feelings and yet i feel i must put my experience out there. i hadn't yet publicly announced that we were expecting baby number two, so it might've been easier to churn forward without saying a word. but that would've felt completely artificial to me. i want to share my personal story because it matters. i never thought i'd be dealing with this. i wish i had more resources to turn to; more kindred spirits with similar stories. now i realize, many of you have gone through this too and have written me words of comfort. like the time i was suddenly having an unplanned c-section to deliver my first born, certain situations come into your life without any preparation or forethought. i hope i can help someone in a similar situation to not feel so alone. thank you for your understanding as i stumble through this humbling experience and unfold the aftermath of our loss.

like any story, this one has a thousand more pages that i cannot yet read. the pages seem to be folded tightly against each other and i leaf through them slowly, only to find a new lump in my throat at each fold. i am beginning to understand how something so small can be greater than the sum of its parts. i share bits of this story because i feel i cannot not share this story. i want to remember this and document it. the only thing i crave right now is to remember that little heartbeat; to honor its existence.

a few months ago we collected seashells from the shores of california and brought them home to benji's little cousins. the excited children surrounded us and we unwrapped shells one by one, explaining there was one shell for each child. bewildered, someone noticed there was one extra seashell. smiling with our secret, we told my family that we had great expectations and a happy announcement. a new baby would be joining our family! a new cousin in the club. a new sibling for benji. a new soul of sunshine.

the familiar anticipation filled our lives. the dog-eared pregnancy books piled on the nightstand, doctor appointments lined up, lists of baby names on random slips of paper, week-to-week emails calculating the baby's development, a checklist of healthy foods pinned to the fridge, and unearthed maternity clothes from storage boxes. everyone i saw seemed to be pregnant too. even in the blogging world. i was delighted to be in the club. i wondered how it would be to have two tiny ones in our home. i wondered how benji would like having a bundled up baby join our family in early december. i wondered how i could be a good mama to him and multiply my love adequately for a new member of the family. we felt so blessed. i could just imagine that holding this new baby would warm up our winter perfectly. i dreamt of the new addition and loved knowing a little angel was growing inside me.

dan and i held hands through the first ultrasound as we saw our little babe. the baby squirmed and wiggled. the doctor said the heartbeat sounded strong and all looked perfectly normal. we decided early on that we would wait and be surprised; i wondered aloud if i'd be able resist and really wait the nine months to find out the gender. i thought it would be like an early christmas surprise to hear the doctor shout out what it was. we hung that first ultrasound photo up and celebrated with scoops of ice cream in ramekins that night.

at sixteen weeks along, symptoms suddenly arose and i felt something was not quite right. the doctor did not seem too worried; still he scheduled me in for an appointment the next day. i cried myself to sleep that night. after an agonizing wait in the waiting room–full of glowing mothers-to-be–i knew deep down that we had lost the baby. i hoped and prayed i was wrong. i worried that i was being so terribly pessimistic. it is not like me to prepare for the worst. it is not like me to feel that things are not as they should be. i prayed our baby would still be healthy, strong and on its way. the second ultrasound showed no fluttering heartbeat, no movement. i knew. and i cried. and cried and cried. at this point, it started to seem like a nightmare, one of those dreams you try to wake yourself up from. terms like fetus demised and massive hemorrhage were used to describe what was once living and growing inside of me. my whole body hurt with sadness. i didn't want it to be true. all our planning and excitement and giddiness was shattered. i felt empty and horrible inside. i wanted to curl up in a cave and hibernate.

my kind doctor attempted to comfort me; telling me it was nothing i did to cause this loss. he explained how common miscarriages are, giving me percentages of pregnancies that never reach full term. what i was feeling was anything but common. i felt like a failure. my doctor was surely trying to give me a glimmer of hope, but i was simply horrified that this was what common felt like. my mind filtered through all the women i'd ever heard about who'd suffered a loss like mine. dozens of names came to mind including my mom, my grandma, friends, co-workers and others close to me. if only i had known what they'd gone through. i was now apart of another club. a club of women who suffer silently through the difficulties of miscarriage. miscarriage. the word sounds so ordinary, so over-used, so absolutely opposite to the pain and tragedy of the event itself. the word holds nothing of the sadness i feel. i guess that's just it; when people say they have no words, they really mean it. because no words can begin to describe the complexities of emotion during a time like this. for the next several days, i just wanted to wake up. i am slowly facing the realities of the situation, but i still wish that we were on the sunny side. i wish i were still pregnant and having a baby before christmas. i wish i was feeling kicks and acrobatics from the inside. i wish i could know the unknown and tell myself everything will work out. i am realizing that having real faith takes more work than i once knew. i walked out of the waiting room full of expecting mothers. i was no longer one of them.

when something sad hits you, you are never quite prepared. sad events have occurred previously in my life, yet still i feel nothing can prepare you for another sadness to hit. a fresh wound still bleeds. no one gave me a manual to miscarriage. no one could tell me of the toll it would take on my body, or the ache in my soul, or the sad look in my husband's eyes. no one prepared me for the weight of worry while i was in the waiting room that day. no one prepared me for the reminders around every corner that yank at the heartstrings with whisperings of loss. and no one prepared me for what was still to come.

i needed people more than i once thought i might. surprisingly, i was eager to talk and express my feelings. however much i wanted to deny the truth, saying it aloud helped me face the reality of our loss. my closest relatives and friends dropped what they were doing to listen to me and cry with me. these are the moments and the people you are forever thankful for. their hearts were open and they seemed to let me climb right in, giving me precious encouragement and advice. they soaked in my emotions and made me feel alright about being so sad. a part of me felt silly about being so emotional and dramatic after such a seemingly common experience. my sisters advised me to be sad for awhile, to not force myself to be happy for others, to be okay with feeling the deepness of my loss. i am still thinking of their words as my tilted hormones, sadness and tears come and go, as if keeping a strict schedule of ups and downs.

a couple of days later, what was once just awful news turned into something very real. after major labor pains, my water broke and the bad got worse. i'll spare you the details. (keep in mind, not every miscarriage has to be a medical emergency. my advice is to get to the hospital sooner than later.) soon, but not soon enough, it was all over. it is unbelievably sad to be wheeled past the nursery windows at the hospital with no baby. i look back on those few days and they are stacked with intense sadness.

throughout the ordeal, my burdens felt heavier than i could handle. but i have always known that God does not give us challenges without accompanying it with adequate strength to bear it. this was another opportunity to lean on the truths i so deeply believe in. i know God has a plan for us. i know He loves me. i know He understands my potential, my strength and the work i am to do in this life. these challenges and trials will whittle me into who i need to become. if only i will trust in Him and keep on doing the right thing, i know he will guide me into greener fields. i know He will lead me, guide me, walk beside me when there is rough terrain ahead. i'll never forget waking up the next morning; a day that i was fearful to face. that miraculous morning i woke up with a new sense of peace. my insides felt quiet instead of empty. my heart felt full instead of broken. i felt blessed instead of bruised. i know God sent me comfort and stillness to remind me of His infinite wisdom and love.

i am richly blessed with caring individuals surrounding me. so many have reached out and have been incredibly thoughtful. dan has been endlessly loving and helpful and amazing throughout the entire ordeal. i realize this loss is great in our lives but small compared to trials others experience. my eyes are starting to open, and i have had a small peek at what grief feels like. i feel so deeply for those who deal with ongoing trials or suffer from losing a loved one. i am in awe of those who still manage to see the sunshine through their grey-skied challenges. i am inspired by them. i am striving to move forward with more love in my heart and greater understanding and empathy. i know with trial comes knowledge, strength, sympathy, renewed gratitude and a deeper trust in God.

july 13. 2010
marta dansie

stream of consciousness.

recently it's been a bit too rainy for my taste. i hope that means more may flowers. the other day it was sprinkling hail as though someone up there was ripping up sheets of styrofoam. benji picked a hail piece off his jacket and stared in amazement. it was pretty cute. recently i've felt like there are a million things i've gotta do. am excited about the prospects for summer. i really do love idaho in the summer. it makes all this wind and rain worth it. i wonder what it once felt like to feel bored. speaking of blah, i broke up with dooce again. she is clever and witty but i never ever feel content after reading her blog, no matter how pretty it looks. am continually attempting to learn to go with the good and out with the bad in life. there is really no time for wasting time on the un-fun, the un-awesome, the un-inspiring. there are so many widgets we allow inside our brains, i want to make sure i am housing the best of the best. i want the majority of my marta pie chart to be good and strong and thoughtful and generous. more happiness, less whiny. more charity, less garbage. more love, less drama. which is why i must break my habit of the real housewives addiction. i am still learning how to manage my time wisely. i have a love/hate relationship with deadlines. i seem to want to blog more when one is approaching. go figure. in other news i emailed a friend on tuesday and admitted that i'm reinventing myself this week. so far, so good. reading scriptures, making bed, saying prayers. the basics should be habitual by now. am trying to pour a bit more meaning into my life. everything can be so hum drum sometimes. must take charge of life. every single day. make the decision, be a little better today than you were yesterday. oh and a thousand thanks for the airplane information. i knew i could count on you. i have a big list to make for packing essentials. am excited. midnight posts are always awesome. i love seeing if anyone is reading at this crazy hour. even though i'm much too antsy to sleep, i am off to bed. am planning to wake up to a whole new me.


stream of consciousness is my favorite type of writing practice. you put the pen to the page and let it all pour out until the timer stops. try it. you'll be hooked. like fresh peach cobbler.

all around you

once you start looking,
love is everywhere.

it is in the field with the cows nudging their calves.
it is in my inbox every morning, noon and night.
it is fresh produce piled into my grocery cart.
it is in the hand clapping and feet dancing.
it is in the doughnuts i spy but do not buy.
it is your sandwich tucked inside a brown lunch sack.
it is the lollipop to mend the monster tears.
it is in the velcro of two tiny shoes.
it is swimming in the apple juice.
it is latched inside the keyhole.
it is the phone call just to say hi.
it is a kiss hello and a smooch goodbye.
it is spooning with my spoons and forks and knives.
it is tumbling around the dryer with my t-shirts.
it is in the creases of your folded clean clothes.
it is hiding 'neath the floorboards.
it is coming out of the speakers.
it is chilling between the ice cubes.
it is the comfort of a good chat.
it is lush as pink frosting and sprinkles.
it is the outgoing envelopes sealed with love.
it is the happy handwriting found inside my mailbox.
it is hanging above me in paper heart form.
it is baked into our valentine pizza pies.
it is a big splash in a bubble bath.
it is a lullaby and an itsy bitsy spider.
it is a soft blanket and an early bedtime.
it is a little arm around a stuffed puppy.
it is in the quiet of the moonlit night.
it is in my heart as i turn out the light.

happy valentine's, valentine.

this feels a bit more legit.

getting published (or is it being published?) is a big thing for a writer. an even bigger thing for a wannabe writer like me. i've been lucky enough to have had a few things published in my lifetime. a real disastrous poem of mine got published in my high school's creative writing magazine. i don't know why my teacher chose that lame haiku over my grand memoirs. i thought i deserved more real estate on those pages, being on the magazine staff and all. oh well. it was in there with my name next to it. all i could do was feel teenage angst while selling copies near the cafeteria doors at lunchtime.

once i got married and quit college for awhile (so dan could finish up his undergrad at BYU) i yearned to be a writer. i was gung-ho and gave myself assignments to make myself feel like the real deal. i missed school that bad. some of my best work came from that time in my life. we went to an art exhibit and i wrote my very best poem yet after seeing a painting by maynard dixon. i wrote up a draft and read it aloud to dan. he gave me suggestions, like any faux creative writing posse would and i went back to the drawing board and made it better. when the time came around for BYU's writer magazine to be published, dan encouraged me to apply (like any faux creative writing editor would). i eventually threw my poem into the ring, and even though i wasn't technically a student, i was published! dan took me out that night to celebrate (like any amazing husband / faux agent would do). i was proud of it, if not a bit bashful for being the lone non-student in a literary magazine. for awhile it was my only claim to fame and the only thing that would register when i googled my name. not that i ever did that or anything.

all this to say, when the kirtsy creators contacted me last year about contributing to their upcoming kirtsy book, i was floored. i felt super excited that they wanted to publish a few of my blog posts. the book has come full circle and is about to be released. (you can pre-order your copy from amazon.) am honored to be among the amazing group of authors. i can hardly wait to get my hands on it, i'll be sure to give my full fledged review at that point in time. for now, here is a sneek peek...



more information about the upcoming book over on design mom's blog.
the creator of the book, laura mayes blogs about the creation of it right here.
doesn't it look lovely? completely lovely and legit. am feeling over the moon.

p.s. wow. thank you for all the kind emails about the new book. i just spotted myself in this little clip and am planning an ice cream date to celebrate.

featured: design crush

miss kelly over @ design crush (one of the best blogs on the market) invited me to offer up a li'l story, a tale, some words for her new feature (aptly named), WORD. thank you, kel. she gave me a photo and i created a poem to go along.

it goes like this.



thank you kelly for encouraging the art of the written word. read all of the entries in her category here. photos inspiring words. love it. a most fantastic writing assignment.

take a snapshot with words

writing prompts | week 10.
describe what you see. snapshot a scene with words.

i know i dote on details. you already know this about me. you hopefully have done some doting yourselves. here is a new writing prompt that will hopefully have you honing your skills on delivering details. describe something in front of you. focus on something real, something you can envision clearly, it can be right here in your present, or perhaps something of your past. now paint it, picture it, take a mental snapshot and write everything down. choose a scene out your window, a landscape you love, a face of a friend. be objective. be thoughtful. try to present your photograph on your page without trite phrases or typical cliche words. use descriptive language and paint it as true as you possibly can. the truer your words, the more a reader will be able to see what you see and therefore know what you know.

01. describe a place. look into all the nooks and crannies, leave nothing out. snapshot your studio, your backyard, your dentist office, your bedroom, your closet, your cupboards, or your favorite place to write with only words.

02. describe a person. tell who they are on the inside and the out. how do they wear their hair, floppy over the ears or snipped short. do they have freckles or smile lines. what type of shoes do they wear. someone told me once that you can know 90% about a person by noticing what shoes they are wearing. detail someone you know; then detail the stranger sitting next to you on a bus. compare the two 'snapshots'.

03. describe a thing. what does it mean to you? what does it look like in the sunshine, in the dark, in the rain. describe your wedding ring, the moon, your prom dress, your antique bookshelf, your grandmother's dishes. detail the chair you sit upon. or the stack of books next to you or the food in front of you or the salt & pepper shakers you bought on vacation. describe every inch.

detail your life and all the scenes that pass by. look out your window. look in your kitchen sink. look into your baby's eyes. then get out your notebook. pick up your pen. and write.

unfold the creases

writing prompts | week 09.
unfold the creases and create. lets play origami.

it's been a long time since i've done a write club post, they are difficult for me to conjure for some reason. posting about zack morris is much easier. posting about nothing is easier than posting about something. hope you'll forgive me for my delays. this rainy day friday has me in an introspective mood which is always a good mood for writing. come to think of it, any mood is good for writing.

i've been thinking about these two favorite quotes (image above) and what they mean in my life right now. i've been looking back in my journals and notice a common thread. i see a lot of wildly jotted questions. when i feel at a standstill in life, i often list a bunch of wonders all over the page. some examples; when will we finish school? when will i get a job i actually like? where will dan go to law school? when will we get out of this tiny apartment? when will i know what i want to do? where are we going to live? when will i have a baby? will i ever get over the fear of childbirth? they go on and on.

i think i list because (being me) i have to somehow categorize the unknown in a way that makes sense. once i get it down, i try to let it be. i think i will write wild questions until i am grey and wrinkled and have everything figured out in my old age. therapeutically, the questions, over time answer themselves. later i look back at them and think, if only i had known.

because we did move out of that first apartment where i started small and crafted cards for friends and family. i thought martacards was a cute name for my mini empire. we eventually moved to the big bold world of orange county, california where dan started law school. i realized making cards was not my thing, i got sick of the x-acto knife and felt frustrated that a thousand other girls were making cards, and making much cuter cards. plus selling cards was not bringing home any bacon.

with time, i figured out what i wanted to do. i designed. and miraculously landed a graphic design job that i was completely unqualified for. so i learned. and i grew. and was humbled by my ignorance. i realized what i wanted and later, what i'd gained. i liked designing printed material, collaging was a good outlet for me, i could be a working woman, i could work hard if i knew saturday (beach day) was only a few days away. i unfolded piece by piece. later, we'd have our first little one in the quiet country life of idaho. i'd become a mom without the drama i'd imagined. it was simple, like i was meant for it. and everyday i make it up as i go. another piece unfolds. and we start again. letting the questions untangle with time.

01. make a list of questions. silly and smart. trite and bold. let loose all the wonders inside. write them all down and then stop worrying about them. they now have a place on the page, don't let them take over the rest of your life. stop wondering about the unknowns. easier said than done, i know.

02. in what ways has your life turned out differently than you thought? how has life flipped you on the bright side? what experiences have left you thinking, am glad that happened, i learned so much from it..

03. how do you create and pave your own path? describe what this quote means to you; life isn't about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself.

unfold yourself. find what's inside. let it out.
create a path that is fit for your potential.

happy weekend. may it be uncrowded, lazy and warm where you are. dan is doing a marathon relay and i am going to make guacamole, clean craft space and get some more blonde put in. oh how i love the salon, among other things. benji's new love; graham crackers.