The park is quiet. Only me and the dog in the early morning dew.
My dog is a lowrider. Stands about a foot high. Doesn’t know it and wouldn’t believe it if I told her.
A squirrel climbs the overgrown honeysuckle hedge. My dog doesn’t notice much above eye level. She’s focused on the game about to begin.
I palm a tennis ball, neon green. She crouches, leans back and springs, breaking into full speed before I have thrown the ball.
Whizz! She runs past me, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
My arm swings back, then forward and release! Straight and low as if bowling. The ball flies silently, lands out in front of her, bounces and rolls.
She catches up. Overtakes it. Talks trash. Growling and complaining. Attacking. The bloodless prey is caught. It fills her mouth. She claspes it between her teeth, smiling.
No fetch with this dog. No jumping for the frisbee or turning flips in the air. No herding sheep or children. No crazed obsession with water.
Her line is European, bred to hunt vermin in the rock pile cairns of Scotland. Rabbits, weasels, moles and voles, rats and field mice. Go to ground. Corner them in their burrows. Fight to the death. It’s what she’s born to do.
We aren’t in Scotland. We’re in St. Louis. There are no cairns to climb here. No ancient Grendel-like rodents to pick off as bagpipes hum and drums beat sharp. Only a park with an open field of grass, clover and dandelions.
It’s illegal for her to be off lead. But we hunt this high country alone. Our crime goes unwitnessed by human eyes.
Victorious she drops the dead ball. Runs full bore past me again. I pull back and bowl another ball out in front of her, neon pink this pitch.
unlikely carrion
Again and again we repeat the jig until she collapses and sprawls in the wet grass. She pants and licks the blades, selectively chewing the sweetest ones.
I jog out to retrieve the unlikely carrion. I hold them as gingerly as a collection of arrowheads, a cache of unpublished posts.
Soon she pricks her ears. Makes eye contact. “Throw it, mama. Throw it!”
It’s exercise. Good to keep her spry. More than that though, the hunt is on.
Soon we’ll take the hill and head back up to the house, our short legs muddied with earth. We’ll trot across the yard, through the gate, unlock the back door. We’ll drink long laps of water from a stainless steel bowl. Lie on our sides on the cool floor. Now still and able to settle.
frog on guard
God arms me with strength, and He makes my way perfect. Psalm 18:32 NLT
Bold hearts and nodding plumesWave o’er their bloody tombs.Deep-eyed in gore is the green tartan’s wave.Shivering are the ranks of steel,Dire is the horseman’s wheel,Victorious in battlefield, Scotland the Brave!
Special thanks for help finding the song goes to Laura H., a most remarkable woman who also happens to play the bagpipes.
I imagine them thinking: There she goes again, writing about bitter pants. Why can’t she write something nice? Just show us some innocuous pictures of your sweet husband, your cute child, and your little dog too, my pretty!
My husband is sweet. My child is cute. My dog is little. There are days I am pretty. I’ll throw in a few pictures, but in case you missed it, I turned 40 this year.
With the fourth decade comes several startling revelations. Among them this: Nice is the new mean.
Clarification: Nice is nice when it’s kind. Nice is mean when it’s superficial.
There are no scientific studies I know of to back this up, but here’s an anecdotal theory. It seems as women age they lose their edit function. No more worrying about what the nice thing to say would be. Not enough time for that nonsense.
In the words of my cousin’s beautiful wife Sue, the can of worms is already open. Might as well let ’em fly.
Some of the flying worms are nice, some are not. The un-nice worms aren’t rude. But they’re not sugar-coated in shallow diplomacy, political correctness or Christianese either. They are direct little boogers because remember, we’re not getting any younger.
I’m not advocating bad manners or speaking the truth without love or sniping at folks with petty, evil comments. However, I spent years going out of my way to keep my opinions and the truth to myself so no one would be offended.
And I wasted a lot of energy in self-reproach because, another fourth decade gem, I can’t please everyone. Neither can you. Surprise!
nice picture of my pretty and her little dog too
With these conclusions, a sad observation. Some people would very much like me to be someone else. It would make them more comfortable.
You may know them too. They sound like this: Keep your emotions to yourself. You need to do God’s work. What’s with you and the truth? Just be content. Write something nice.
Is this the example I want to set for my child? It’s best to go along and get along? We should be nice at all costs even if the greatest cost is to one’s integrity?
No way, José. My life is imperfect, a work in progress. But I hope what’s important to me shines through now and then.
Be honest. Be kind. Address what’s wrong.
Be who God created you to be even if it is different than the people around you. Even if it makes some of them uncomfortable.
And by the way, when you belong to God, it’s all His work.
King of Anything by Sara Bareilles makes a fitting song. Perhaps we’re related.
image with permission from alexandraferguson.com
Alexandra Ferguson
Alexandra Ferguson started a “sassy little pillow company” on Etsy in 2009. Her pillows, featured in this post, are “American-made manufacturing from recycled materials that any side of the aisle can be excited about.” Check out more of her fun and gutsy designs at www.alexandraferguson.com, like this one with a super hero’s silhouette. Love it!
Disclaimer: I’m not being compensated to promote Alexandra Ferguson.
Except for when we have a showing, my house is upside down these days.
My kindergartner had to remind me to roll down my window when we pulled up to the drive thru at our new Chick-Fil-A.
I’m late delivering copy I promised weeks ago. Even later writing thank you notes from spring break. (If I saw you during spring break, thank you for your hospitality. A proper note will be forthcoming someday.)
I forgot to pay a few bills. Wore the same outfit three times in one week.
Cut my recreational shopping so severely, it no longer qualifies as recreational. It’s now combat. In. Out. Mission accomplished.
Bought body wash for my son when my shopping list specifically read shampoo. Twice. We have enough to keep him sparkling through third grade.
And I carried whole milk home from the grocery store. Shopping with my eyes closed that time.
This from the woman who made a crusade of cutting calories and fat from our family diet. Who painstakingly racheted us down from whole to two percent and finally to one percent over the course of several months.
the red milk
What a surprise one morning at breakfast when my son said, “Mom, you bought the red milk.” Whole milk is labeled red at our grocery store.
“No, I didn’t,” I said.
“Yes, it’s red.”
“What? Oh, my. It is the red milk!”
We drank the red milk. Then I paid more attention and bought the purple milk on my next mission.
What can I say? I’m in love.
Something has captured my attention. Occupies my mind. Changes the way I see things. Gets me up in the middle of the night.
hearts in a row
It’s a jealous lover. Expects all my time. Truth be told I would really like to let the world go and just swim in it.
And why not? My husband tells me it’s all right to want to spend my time with this. To want to be alive. To enjoy my work again.
Where will this affair will lead?
Right now it doesn’t matter. I’m reveling in the obsession. Hope you are too.
Even so, I have noticed one thing, at least, that is good. It is good for people to eat, drink, and enjoy their work under the sun during the short life God has given them, and to accept their lot in life. Ecclesiastes 5:18 NLT
Diamond Rio, you put it so well in What a Beautiful Mess. Hey, wait a minute. That’s my car…
Attended a fun reception at AdFarm yesterday in their beautiful new St. Louis digs. Only the creative minds of an ad agency could figure out how to make Lucas Park Grille the company kitchen. Divine.
At the party, guru Jay Baer discussed social media with the crowd. I also met the striking Katie Pinke, a fifth generation farm girl who doubles as marketing strategist and blogger extraordinaire. Katie generously offered to help me on an upcoming post I’m writing about farming and food.
“I’ve read your blog,” she said with a smile.
“Oh, really?” I said. “Thank you so much. I haven’t been at this long.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m a fan on Facebook.”
“Oh,” I said, puzzled for a moment. What was she talking…
“You know?” she said. “On your page.”
Jeff Whetstine, Jay Baer and Carrie Doza
Oh, yes. On my page. That’s right, my blog has a page on Facebook.
Thank you for reminding me, Katie. I went home straight away and updated the everydayepistle.com FB page with all my posts since March 4, 2011, when the page started.
But you already knew that didn’t you, Katie? Seeing as you’re my one and only FB fan. Yikes.
Okay, dear Readers, I know you’re out there. Here’s your chance to join Katie as a fan on FB. Search everydayepistle.com on FB and like the page.
I announce new posts to personal friends on FB. So if you’re one of those and you don’t want to receive duplicate announcements from the page, no worries.
Just become a fan, then simply block the posts from the everydayepistle.com page. Same way you do your Bon Jovi concert updates. (Come on, admit it. You know they’re touring this year.)
If I don’t know you from Adam and you’re reading my blog anyway, first of all, I’m honored.
Second, you too can get FB announcements of new blog posts by becoming a fan of the everydayepistle.com page. Or you can become a fan to show your support and then block the page posts. See instructions above RE: Bon Jovi.
Thanks for reading, everyone. May this be a comfortable place for you to visit, comment, like, share, and send friends.
Ah, community. That’s what the blogosphere is all about. Right, Katie?
Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble. Likewise, two people lying close together can keep each other warm. But how can one be warm alone? A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken. Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 NLT
Hilary Winn, me, Angie Skochdopole, Jeff, and Dan Kirkpatrick
Ode to Jon Bon Jovi
O Jon, I will forever love you and your hair.
Looks like we’re both Livin’ on a Prayer.
Though your 80s tresses resemble a parrot,
The memory is sweet and worth the link to share it.
Two weeks and 10 states later, we’re home from spring break. Wonderful trip. Never enough time to see everyone or do everything. Returned with more material than I can write.
My crazy blog experiment came up in conversations along the way. Based on the questions I got, it’s time to make good on my vow from Dangerous Liaisons that we’ll conquer the blog together. Scroll down to find your favorite Q&A.
blog hog
Q: What pray tell is a blog?
A: Blog is short for web log. It’s a type of website.
Anyone can blog. Platforms like WordPress and Blogger let you create blogs for free. Heartfelt thanks to my friend Nicole for showing me the ropes.
There are blogs for all manner of subjects and products. Blogs run the gamut from personal and private to public and highly marketed.
This one is open to the public 24-7 and covers lots of topics.
Q: No offense but why would anyone read this?
A: Beats me. To empathize, normalize, relate? To be entertained or inspired?
I like to think someone would read my posts for the same intangible reasons people read the greats like Erma Bombeck, Peggy Noonan and Anna Quindlen.
I can dream, can’t I?
Community is another reason. Bloggers and readers connect in the blogosphere.
Q: Is it always snowing in St. Louis?
snow route
A: No, though my posts may lead you to believe otherwise.
A: The best way to guarantee you will not miss a post is to subscribe.
Subscribing is free. Look for the menu labeled Subscribe near the top of the right column. Go. Do it now.
For those of you who like a challenge, one bonus to subscribing is that you receive the original version with the elusive typo or misspell. There’s at least one in every post. Subscribe to catch it before I do.
Q: What about Facebook?
A: I announce new posts to friends on Facebook. But if it’s an active day on your News Feed, I may be buried in the traffic. Another reason to subscribe.
read, respond, recycle
Q: RSS feeds?
A: If you want to subscribe via RSS feed, use the large button in the right column. RSS feed readers fly below the radar, unidentified to me and unreported in stats.
Q: Twitter?
A: No, I’m not tweeting yet. But you can call my posts tweets if you’ll read them. (Update: I starting tweeting for the blog’s first birthday. Connect with me @everydayepistle.)
Q: Can I comment on your posts or share them with others?
A: Yes, please do as often as you like. Look for the menus at the end of each post.
Q: Why do you include links to songs and Bible verses?
sit up get God
A: The songs are for fun. To borrow a concept from my friend Sue, if this were a movie these songs would make up the soundtrack.
The Bible verses are for life. Do not mistake them as a flippant means to stamp God on my blog. Each verse applies to the story in its post.
Q: How do you work with your photographer?
A: My photographer, the uber-talented Kristin Scully, is responsible for the headshots of yours truly. I take the snapshots featured in the posts myself.
Q: Are you being paid?
A: I wish. Are you offering?
No, I am not being paid to do this. And I hesitate to open up to ads. I have a few ideas up my sleeve for other ventures. Stay tuned.
Q: Why don’t you get a real job?
A: Good question. This is a real job requiring concentration, effort, time and ability. It’s non-paid work, but that’s nothing new.
I’ve been a non-paid, full-time mother of a busy little boy since he was born, not to mention several non-paid volunteer stints. Real jobs, no moolah.
I’m learning social media from the ground up by building and managing my site. I’m sharpening marketable skills like organization, creativity, communication, problem-solving. Should count for something.
keep calm and carry on
Q: How long do you plan to blog?
A: Until it’s not fun anymore.
A year seems like a good first step. My friend Shannon blogged every day for five years while raising four children. She’s a superstar.
She’s slowed down the frequency of her posts, but retains a loyal following. That kind of audience takes time and talent to build, so we’ll see.
Q: Seriously why are you doing this?
A: To make friends and influence people, to exercise some gifts before they atrophy beyond use, to say what I need to say before I die, and because I’m having the time of my life.
Q: Julie or Julia?
A: Both Julie and Julia. I am Julie, but oh, to be more Julia. Bon appétit!
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. Colossians 3:23-24 NIV
Oops. There goes half my readership. Those of you remaining are thinking yeah, lady, we know you’re not funny. Make with the real confession already.
Serious, sensitive, intense. The most common words teachers and guidance counselors used to describe me from second grade through high school graduation. Oh, and emotional. A regular barrel of laughs.
Give me a break. I had a lot on my mind.
Faculty also described me as enthusiastic, creative and smart. And I was smart enough to befriend fun people. Surrounded by them, I looked like I knew how to have a good time.
lol
I’m still surrounded by many friends who are hilarious. At least one needs to do stand up comedy. She’s that good.
I’ve told her this repeatedly over the years. She’s in denial, but one day I expect to be sitting in her audience crying from laughing so hard. (You know who you are. It’s a gift, woman. Use it.)
I also married a funny guy and we have a quick-witted child who is funnier than both of us combined. Good-Time Charlie, my husband calls him.
Like a talent scout for humor, I can’t do it myself, but I can recognize it. And I can write about it.
Take for example, Scrabbled. It’s funny, but not because I’m funny. It’s because of all these funny people and the funny things that happen.
My blogging for public consumption is just 12 posts fresh. Already I have ascertained everyone responds best to humor. Write more, they plead.
I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. Remember who you’re reading here. Serious, sensitive, intense.
Quieter feedback has revealed the not-as-funny posts speak to people too.
Life is, after all, bittersweet.
But there’s purpose in it. There are smiles to be had. And on a very good day there are lots and lots of laughs.
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
To hear Bittersweet by Big Head Todd and the Monsters, one of the best songs ever, click here for the Vimeo link. Laugh, cry, be mellow and moved.
You Baby Boomers out there expected me to link to Turn! Turn! Turn! from Pete Seeger’s album The Bitter and the Sweet made famous as a 1965 cover by The Byrds, didn’t you? Well, I’m Gen-X. But just for you, click here for the Byrds’ rendition on YouTube. You can thank me later.
Writing stories. Downloading photos. Recklessly hotlinking movie poster images and music videos. Ah, life in the fast lane.
How could I not love you?
You introduced me to blogging. I am enthralled. Enraptured. Engaged in life again.
But we have a problem. You won’t let my friends get a word in edgewise.
Only certain people can comment. Only certain people can subscribe.
Oh, I know you say they’re just doing it wrong. But I wonder. Maybe you’re doing this on purpose so they have to join your clique.
Last night I heard you mutter it doesn’t matter if anyone reads my blog because I’m doing it for the love of writing.
Theoretically that’s true, but let’s get something straight. I’m not writing so only you and I can read it. We already know what it says.
If someone, anyone, wants to read it, comment on it, subscribe to it, share it on Facebook, email it to their Aunt Cleo, their cousin Irving, their daughter Macie at college, their son Jake who works in New York, their fourth grade teacher Ms. Vanpelt, their neighbor Winston Rutherford Waterman or any one else on earth, I say have at it.
As much fun as we’ve had together, I’m leaving you for another platform.
I’m moving to WordPress today. There readers can comment, subscribe, and get updates via email. They can even click like if they want.
You can’t change my mind. Everything is in place.
I have my own domain at everydayepistle.com, along with new headshots from photographer friend Kristin Scully. And I’m taking my quirky title, my snippets of pop culture and my itty-bitty blog with me.
Come up and see me sometime.
Virtually yours,
Aimee
PS: All the original posts from Blogger are featured at everydayepistle.comtoo.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9 NIV
To watch the 1975 opening of the sitcom The Jeffersons with its jubilant song Movin’ On Up, click here. You will be transported to TVLand.
A friend alerted me that my blog’s security settings won’t let her post a comment. Oh, the heartbreak of it all.
I write words, not code. This leaves me in the awkward position of being dazed and confused by social media, while madly in love with it too.
Library called. They want their books back now.
Blogger, my current platform, says they have enabled automatic spam detection. Translation: ain’t nothing getting through.
So I thought I would simply adjust my Blogger settings down to make it easier for you to come to the dance. Yeah, right.
I logged in to Blogger Dashboard. That’s IT lingo for site-that-makes-you-think-you-have-some-control-over-your-stuff. I clicked on Comments to change the settings.
Imagine my surprise to discover there is no loosen-up-so-people-can-comment-and-subscribe-without-turning-backflips option. It appears my settings are as loose as they get.
This is only my third post and already I’m considering moving the entire operation to WordPress. Several of my blogging babe heros successfully reside there. See their beautiful sites at Here’s the DiehlandTraveling with the Jones. (Since the time this was first posted, I’ve identified more friends who are blogging babe heros on WordPress likeKellogues,Minivans Are Hot, and Quiet Gardens, Raging Seas.)
I am enamoured with Blogger’s simplicity. But truth be told, WordPress was my first choice to launch everyday epistle. Even have the name reserved.
So why didn’t I? The WordPress Dashboard looks like spaghetti.
If you can relate to this soap opera, never fear. There’s safety in numbers. We’ll overcome it together.
If on the other hand, you are a social media master, please chime in. Throw out the lifeline before the rest of us drown in RSS feeds and plug-ins.
Stay tuned. If everyday epistle moves to another platform, I hope you will come along. But for now, I’ll keep writing the words that fuel the fire.
be mine
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-3 NIV
Apologies if you have tried unsuccessfully to comment or subscribe. Thanks for staying on. At the risk of breaking blog taboo, my email address is still working last I checked. It’s not interactively ideal, but I’ll get your message. Contact me at everyday epistle dot att dot net.
This post was first published on February 16, 2011,here.
It was inevitable. At some point I would blog. Current atmospheric conditions are churning now, ripe for words. What’s my angle? Take your pick.
first in flight
Tormented writer ponders the future of a full but meandering career. Stay-at-home mom finds herself adrift as her only child races through kindergarten.
Southern expat living in the Midwest wilts with homesickness like a hydrangea in a Carolina summer wilts with heat.
Wait, there’s more.
Independent conservative squirms under a government hell bent on bringing the end of the world as we know it.
Bible-believing Christian struggles to keep the walk real despite discouragement, disconnection and disillusionment.
Gen-X girl turns 40, buys an iPhone and starts a blog.
This is your captain speaking. Please keep your seatbelts fastened in the likely event we encounter choppy air. Turbulence makes for quite the adventure.
maiden flight: the first occasion on which an aircraft leaves the ground of its own accord…always a historic occasion for the type…also one of the most dangerous, because the exact handling characteristics of the aircraft are generally unknown.wikipedia.org
No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; He’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; He’ll always be there to help you come through it. 1 Corinthians 10:13 The Message
This post was first published on February 12, 2011,here.
