Category: A Moment in My Life

A Moment in My Life – Sunday, November 1, 2020

It’s November 1st, which means the game is afoot as we take off with day one of NaNoWriMo. This presented a double challenge for me with reaching the 50,000-word count by November 30th at midnight and how I would juggle in writing my daily column. That’s going to be interesting, but it’s something I want to believe I can do. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. Yes! I know I can do this! 

I needed to make some adjustments to my daily schedule to make it work, but so far, so good. I want to get my novel word count down as early as possible, which means I will need to push my column from the prime morning writing hours, what I call the dawn-pod, to later in the day, like the middle of the day or after lunch—the mid-pod. Ideally, I would like to avoid writing in the moon-pod, or otherwise known as the evening hours. It’s hard balancing everything when everything vies for the same chunk of time. Everything I do requires a large amount of time, and that doesn’t make it any easier. Another challenge that I faced was that November 1st fell on a Sunday, adding church to the prime “time real estate” competition in the same dawn-pod. 

Did I tell you that today is my favorite day of the year? Well, I should be more specific that it’s not today per se that is my favorite day, but rather, the Sunday of the end of daylight savings time is my favorite day because we gain an extra hour. It’s incredible the difference one hour could make, but I am living proof that the one extra hour makes or breaks my day. The extra hour allowed me to get more done the night before, followed by a little more sleep that I so badly needed, which helps me wake up refreshed and ready to take on the new day. This domino effect triggers an earlier rise for some reason, and that act allowed me to get a jump start on my writing before attending church. 

I was nervous all week as I dreaded this day’s arrival because I got it in my head that I needed to have my whole story fleshed out and the outline written before today came along, which you can probably guess that I didn’t have everything worked up already. I attended the NaNoWriMo Kick-Off webinar yesterday. Something someone said there reminded me that the NaNoWriMo initial purpose was to get us writing and get the 50,000-word count down by the end of the month’s challenge. That’s it. Anything else we think we have to do, we made up. It’s true that the more details you have worked out for your novel, the easier it would be to write your story, but it’s not mandatory. It’s a nice-to-have. Once I remembered that I relaxed and approached today with the sole purpose of having fun drafting my novel in mind, and that made all the difference in the world. 

My goal for today was to get my 2,000-word count done before 10:00 church service began, and by 10:03, I got 2,003 words down. Success! And, here I am, after church, before lunch, before mid-pod, and about to finish with my Monday column. After I wrap this column, I am free to enjoy the rest of my Sunday. It’s a good feeling.

Before I got to this point, I was nervous about how I would make it work. What was I so worry about? Phew. Of course, I could say that now, but until I got here, I had no guarantees that I would be in such good shape when the game is afoot.

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, October 27, 2020

Did you ever get into your parents’ or your siblings’ stuff when you were explicitly told not to? I want to think everybody has, but I know a few goody two shoes out there who probably never did. Many people consider me a goody two shoe, but…truth be told, I have my dark side of naughty secrets. Hard to believe, right? (Chuckle.) Yeah, even I have been down that path. I have the whips to prove it, too. Well, luckily, there are no physical scars to show you, so you’ll have to take my word for it. 

When I was about seven or eight, one of my favorite pastimes was to sneak up into our attic and dig through the boxes that my parents stashed away of old abandoned treasures. Treasures of who they were before life wore them down. From the boxes filled with stylish attire that screamed fashionista, it was hard to imagine them belonging to my mother. For as long as I remembered, my mother dressed practically and comfortably. Nothing splashy. Back in the day, women wore housecoats, and that’s how I remembered my mother until the modern woman began wearing pants. In any event, my mother remained a practical dresser. The only time she dressed up was for banquets. I followed her down that path, and in more ways than I dare to verbalize, which included tampering with her stash.

There was a medium-sized square cardboard box filled with my mother’s shoes in the attic. I visited that box the most, favoring two pairs of her shoes that I made my own, to mother’s dismay. She had a pair of pink embroidered round toe pumps that called to me. Back then, I didn’t meet purple yet, so this was the most beautiful pair of heels I had ever seen. I wore it, playing dress-up alone in the attic, quietly trying not to attract any attention. When I was done, I switched to the pair of cedar brown suede pointy toe stiletto ankle boots with a cute tassel down the side. Oh, how I loved that pair of boots!

Mother knew how much I adored those two pairs of shoes. She knew it the day she happened to discover that the heels of her boots were worn inward, not according to her walk pattern. Oops. Who’d think that would be a dead giveaway? Yes, I got whipped for wearing mother’s shoes, and more so, for ruining them for her. That’s what kids do. It was worth the whipping. It didn’t stop me from visiting my treasures until after we moved. I never saw my treasures again. 

I forgot about them until I recently ran into a pair of pointy-toe kitty-heel stiletto ankle boots. Immediately, my mother’s boots came flooding back into my mind. I wonder what my mother did with them. I suspect she tossed them out. That’s such a shame that she couldn’t have given them to me. The pink embroidered pumps would’ve been perfect with her pink Cheongsam she gave me to wear on my wedding day. It would’ve been super special wearing my mother’s Cheongsam and her pumps. That may not sound like much, but to me, they were my mother’s treasures.

I don’t know what became of my mother’s shoes, but I have my everlasting memories of those gems and the days I spent playing dress-up in the attic with my Mama’s Stilettos.

A Moment in My Life – Monday, October 26, 2020

Brad Paisley’s “Waitin’ On A Woman” came on my cell, which invoked an unexpected emotional response from within me. In this video’s opening scene, Brad repeatedly called the woman he was meeting who was running late. I know for filming purposes, they needed to speed things along. Brad’s calls may have been over some time, but they filmed it with the calls back-to-back. Each time he spoke, “Hey, it’s me…,” I cringed and felt a chill surge through my core while goosebumps formed on the surface of my arms. It was too close to home for me. I couldn’t listen any further to find out what his or her story was. This song was way too personal at that moment, and I had to turn it off. 

Many people got rid of their landlines in favor of owning one phone number—their cells. I’ve followed suit favoring my cell, except I retained my landline, which I’ve had for decades. Even though I don’t use it anymore, I kept it for old times’ sake. Except for the occasional vendors, or people I knew from long ago who fell out of touch, nobody ever calls on my landline. However, hours before hearing Brad Paisley’s song, an acquaintance, I’ll call him Harry, did. I don’t know how he got my number. I never gave it to him. Months ago, he called for the first time. He left a message to call him back. I did not. 

I know it’s poor form to ignore people, but sometimes it’s the lesser of two evils. Have you ever gotten that feeling that something doesn’t feel right? That’s what was going on here. You see, a couple of months after Mark’s passing, Harry invited me out to lunch. I was glad that I had another lunch date with friends already, which was my reason for declining. His asking didn’t feel right, but I convinced myself that he was trying to be kind like my other friends.

Fast forward a couple of months. Harry asked again when we ran into each other. I told him I’d let him know when I was available, but—to date—I hadn’t yet. 

He knew Mark, too, but he was an acquaintance to both of us. We didn’t have a relationship beyond that. Sure, I dine with male friends, but we are friends and nothing more. But, something about Harry’s invitation felt out of place. He seems like a nice guy, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that he might want more than just lunch, and I’m not ready to go there. I sure don’t want to mislead him.

Next thing we knew, Shelter in Place happened. I forgot about Harry until that day in summer when he called. My response? Panic. What didn’t feel right at first now feels weird! We can’t do lunch. Why was he calling? It doesn’t make sense for him to go to this much trouble unless there was more to his intentions. I ignored the call.

Harry didn’t give up. This time he called three times within an hour! That went from not feeling right to weird to creepy! Now, I’m all creeped out by him. I thought, who does such a thing and call so many times back-to-back. Now, I know. Harry’s not alone. Brad Paisley did, too! I won’t be able to watch that video any time soon. It’s way too close to home. 

A Moment in My Life – Friday, October 23, 2020

“Don’t you dare!” I gritted my teeth, leaned forward, squeezed my steering wheel tighter with both hands at 10 and 2 as my foot slammed the accelerator. The little old granny with the curly salt and pepper bob and half-frame glasses called my bluff, pulling out from the driveway where she patiently waited for me to close the gap between us before making her move. It was a battle of wits between her big aging sedan and my cute little sporty coupe. I slammed on my brakes, admitting defeat. Aghast! She turned left in front of me and snailed down the road past me like she was out for her Sunday drive—unphased—never once looking my way. “The nerve!” I said under my breath, glaring at her one last time before I hit the accelerator.  

Stiff fuming, I made my right turn from West Orange into the fast lane on El Camino; just passing Little Lucca were two cars on the south side waiting to turn left in front of me. I gave them the ‘I’m watching you’ stare, which seemed to keep them at bay. I geared up. I heard a cynical “Ha ha ha ha,” come from inside my car, but I’m all alone. Then I heard those familiar words, “Don’t you dare!” I felt my teeth-gritting, my body leaned forward, my fists tightened around my steering wheel, and, instinctively, my foot pressed down on the accelerator. The ever-so-patient black Mazda faked me out that I had the road. I was in control. Only to change his mind, or more likely, calling my bluff when he gunned up and U-turned just yards away, forcing me to slam on the brake to avoid hitting him. “How dare you?” I sped into the middle lane and chased him down. I pulled up next to him to see who would dare to cross me on the road. It was a man in his late twenties or early thirties, dark-complected, with black hair that needs a cut, who wasn’t afraid of me. What’s up with this? He acted like it was business as usual, and nothing out of the ordinary, like his cutting me off, happened. 

You know you’re having one of those days when you start to see a pattern. Today, I’m invisible! How did I know? I’m glad you asked. It was apparent to me at the Safeway express line where the middle-aged Asian woman ahead of me finished up. I moved my groceries from my cart onto the conveyor. I glanced at my watch, and I have plenty of time to make my 12:40 appointment with time to spare. Maybe not. The customer began questioning the prices of almost every item the checker placed into her two shopping bags. She took out each item, made a big to-do, and had him rescan. When she didn’t get the satisfaction she expected, she began surfing her phone and showing him her complaint. Never once did either of them look my way or take notice that I was impatiently standing there waiting. At 12:52, the clerk moved her along and called for a manager—finally, my turn. No greeting or apologies were made. It wasn’t necessary. I was invisible. 

After my appointment, I encountered another car that cut me off. Ugh. What a day! I raced home and stayed there. Mark teased me for being a Jekyll and Hyde out on the road. Now you know my secret. Shhhh, let’s keep it to ourselves, all right? Seriously, I’m clowning around. Don’t worry. I’m a careful driver. I may have some off days, but for the most part, I’m careful. These other drivers, however, now, they were either rude or dangerously idiotic to cut out in front of me as they did. Lucky for them, I wasn’t Mr. Hyde at that moment. Otherwise, they would’ve been in trouble while I was in stealth mode.

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, October 22, 2020

As weird as this may sound, but when I hear sirens, I smile and, for a moment, am transported back to New York City where sirens echoed between skyscrapers in harmony with the honking from drivers feeling cut off unjustly, and voices hollering, “Taxi!” This was everyday life in that big city—our first and only visit there. While most people collected ‘I Love NYC’ t-shirts, I captured the smell of diesel, the sound of sirens, and the hustle and bustle of people bustling about like on an ant trail. 

At the time, this robust city overwhelmed me. Still, many takeaways overshadowed the anxiety of life in a mainstream city, including the experience of being one of those ants on the ant trail. This wasn’t intentional. Timing had a lot to do with it. Mark and I were trying to locate the 9/11 Memorial when a stream of people swept us along, and next thing we knew, we were experiencing rush hour as we headed to the ferries with them. My naïve thought was, Wow, all these people going to the 9/11 Memorial, too? It didn’t feel right as we scurried through the underground tunnel that felt like it went on for miles. As I hustled along, I nervously asked my neighbor, “Where are we going?” and that’s when I learned these were people heading home during their evening commute. Not too many tourists can say that they experienced rush hour on foot first hand! 

San Francisco provides its unique big-city experiences, but nothing compares to life in New York City. Without having anything to compare to, I used to think San Francisco was a hectic overwhelming city. However, after having been to New York, San Francisco is tame, quiet, and lo-key. I see why some people move to NYC for the exciting daily living and nightlife. 

While I was there, I got annoyed with all the sirens, honking, and noise, so I was surprised when I heard a siren here at home that instead of remembering the annoyances, it reminded me of all those wonderful takeaways. New York City flashed before me like a slide show with their sights of old and new, the hot dog stands, the diversity of people, the last of the summer warmth, the narrow streets lined with garage bags with no smell, and of course, the famous Magnolia cupcakes. Ah, such delightful memories!

After the Sign Hill fire last Friday, I don’t think of New York City when I hear a siren anymore. I find myself cringing, and my heart flutters as my heart rate surges upward to the sound of the siren until it fades away. I am relieved that it’s not another nearby fire and praying that it’s not a fire for that matter and that it’s a false alarm.

I’m hoping that the next time I hear a siren, I’ll once again enjoy my fantastic NYC vacation slideshow all over again, but I have a feeling that it’ll take some time before I stop cringing at the sound of a siren. It’s incredible how different you can feel and what emotions a siren can invoke, reminding me that it is a very individual experience, but a siren is a siren.

A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, October 21, 2020

I think I’m taking hump day a little too seriously for my own good. I like it, though. Taking it easy. Not a care in the world. Feels good. Feels really good. If not for the late start to my writing day by almost two hours, I have no problem with this laidback feeling. I entered my workday with no idea what I’m writing for my column today, either. Did I fret? Nope. I am completely relaxed—not nervous, not worried, not concerned that I had no clue what I’m writing today. My norm is typically hyper, racing from task-to-task, worrying about getting things done. Before I get out of bed, I’d be freaking out if I didn’t already know what I’m going to write. Today’s carefree demeanor is surprising. Who am I, and what did I do with the real me? 

I suspect it’s because I caught up with my sleep, and I have maintained a good night’s rest. We’ve been having Indian Summer and gorgeous summery days in the middle of October, and that probably has a lot to do with it. I’m in summer mode! I’m a summer baby, and this summer failed to be summer-like. We had too many wintry days with only a few sprinklings of warm ones. It was depressing. However, the cost of these gorgeous days in my area meant fires in other areas. I am soaking it up for what it’s worth. After all, there’s nothing I can do about any of it except enjoy it.

Honestly, there was nothing to worry about. Once I started my workday, this column was born, and voila, I have my writing for today. I love it when a plan comes together, even if I didn’t have a plan, to begin with. 

It would be nice to have a better balance between my two sides, though, and that may happen. I’m sure this is the stepping stone towards that balance that I’m hoping for. At the moment, I want to be more productive, but I lack the desire. I started my week with a NaNoWriMo Preptober planned to get my outline done before I begin writing my novel on November 1st. I have two weeks to create my outline and flesh out everything—characters, plot, conflict, location, names, places, and yadda, yadda. Here it is Wednesday, and what have I checked off the task list? Create storyboard in Trello, checked. Good thing, I’ve done the brainstorming and have a working title, story idea, the main characters, and some sub-characters, as well as a roadmap, jotted down. I’m further along than I’ve ever been, and that is encouraging. The hard work is not over yet. I want to get the full outline down and every little detail that I can flesh out before November 1st. The way I’m feeling at the moment? I’m not worried. I’ll get it done in time. 

It was a long road here for the new me. I honestly thought that being a nervous wreck was my modus operandi. I wouldn’t mind getting the job done while going where the breeze takes me as I live a little. I’m glad it’s not too late for me. I think I finally know what it means to stop and smell the roses because mastering balance makes perfect.  

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, October 20, 2020

Considering that I went to bed at almost 1 a.m. after a 3 hour and 59-minute phone chat, I easily felt the same way she felt as she said, in a monotone, “Good morning, another day!” It’s been a long time since someone said that to me. Over the years, I’ve heard people say these words more times than I can count. Sometimes, a big cheery smile delivered them, but other times—expressionless with no smile, and every other mood in between. This comment then is vastly versatile. 

Since I’m hypersensitive, I pick up on people’s moods, and I end up wearing them. Knowing this, for self-preservation, I typically responded with a smile and as much cheer as I could muster, “Good morning! Yep, another day! Have a good one!” For some reason, today, it gave me pause before I commented. Why? Since I began working solo, small talk isn’t on my daily menu. So much has happened in my life since the last time I heard those words. I’ve lost six family members and as many friends, along with myself, having experienced near-death just over a year ago. Every morning I get to wake up and do it all again is a huge blessing. Those whom we lost don’t get that chance. People who haven’t experienced major life events wouldn’t understand. 

I don’t think they realize the connotation in their tone when they were trying to be pleasant, but at the same time, it saddens me to observe someone dreading the new day. It’s most likely a temporary mood thing or a need for caffeine, but it could be more than that.

Being human, I, too, have been guilty of momentarily lapsing into the same emotionlessness, or possibly adversely, as some people do. It happens when we are not well-rested. The older I get, the more I appreciate the harping to get plenty of rest. There’s so much truth in that one act! A good night’s sleep makes or breaks us. It impacts our attitudes, moods, decisions, and physical wellness more than we realize.

I know what you’re going to say, and you’re right. Many possibilities could cause gloominess in a person’s day. I’m not going to pretend that I know all or even some of those causes. Everybody has to walk his or her path in their shoes, but I’m just saying that it’s sad for me to see anyone not able to appreciate life and living. I fear that they are too busy moping through their life that one day they might wake up to their numbered days, and it would be too late for them to appreciate waking up and getting to do it all over again. 

What I do know is that there are ways to combat the same-old-same-old. Changing things up, trying new things may make all the difference. It may be just what you needed to spark joy in your day. 

Life is not a dress rehearsal. Everything we do or don’t do has consequences. I don’t know if what I’m doing is the right thing, but all I have is the effort to do the best that I could and try to bring smiles to as many people along my way. With that said, as much cheer as I can muster, I say to you, “Good morning! Yep, another day! Have a good one!”