Thank you… And you… And you…

~ Sahara ~ Leave a comment

As a kid, thank you notes always brought up the angsty uncomfortable idea of making up bullshit, and I wasn’t too good at yet, and still have an aversion to it now. But as a bride (19 days to go), writing thank you notes is waaay up there in things to do, right up there with tanning.  Beloved family and friends from both sides are shoring us up in love and support, and beautiful new dishes! (Seriously, I am so excited for these dishes and I love them.)

So, while I don’t tan, I have been writing thank you notes regularly, and have come to appreciate the process more than I used to, even look forward to it!

I sit quietly with a pen and some cards, hopefully under a window, and write by reflecting on the gift, the person who gave it to me and what it means to me. I get to relive the event for which I’m thanking the gift-giver (in this case, bridal showers) and reflect on the jokes and dirty stories we shared. I’m usually scrambling for addresses (in the digital age, who has anyone’s address?!) and that’s frustrating, but I save that for the end.

Like writing a story with a word limit, brevity is the order of the day in a thank you note, and I think I’m going to try to get more creative and humorous with them.  Here are some examples of funny ones; perhaps they will inspire my future efforts.

“Thank you oatmeal, for looking like I eat you before I eat you.” (Jimmy Fallon)

“Dear McDOnalds, Thank you for not selling hot dogs. I don’t think I could order a McWiener with a straight face.” (I don’t know.)

“I would thank you from the bottom of my heart, but for you, my heart has no bottom.” (Aww! And I don’t know who wrote this initially.)

What is the best thank you note you have ever gotten?

Last Words to my Dying Grandma

~ Sahara ~ 24 Comments

My grandma’s dying. Not just in the sense that we’re all dying, but she’s ready to go now.  She’s signed her DNR papers. She’s getting a last communion tonight. All her daughters are with her right now. I had called my mom for details and was kind of regretting not being there to see grandma before she goes, and mom offered to let me talk to her. I felt a surge of sad gratefulness that I could talk to her again. But what would I say?

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A Groundhog Day Baby

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As the seconds and minutes of February 1st tick away, I edge ever closer to that threshold to the “wrong side of 30,” which I cross at midnight. February 2nd is my birthday, and I will be 36. Closer to 40 than 20.

“Honey, time marches on and eventually you realize it is marchin’ across your face.”

Ten years ago, when faced with a similar, though younger, reality, I was really upset.  There I was, closer to my 30s than my teens, my finger slipping ever father from the pulse of coolness.  I had a college degree, yet no discernible use to which I had put that degree. I was again living with my parents.  I was losing the good parts of youth without getting the benefits of age.

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Inspiration Engine Vol. 1 – Healing and Creativity

~ Sahara ~ 3 Comments

A series or round up of the blog posts I find most inspiring this week!

1. My attempt at a fairytale-esque story, from Fairytale Corner. It seems like this is a relatively new blog, but I think it holds a lot of promise and I look forward to what it will come out with.  This post, according to the writer, is their first attempt at adapting a fairy tale, and I think it’s brilliant. Simple, well written and well paced, and inspiring to me as I think about writing fiction.

2.  Inspire Your Creativity, (almost made for this round-up, eh? 🙂 ) from MisBehaved Woman. In this particular post, the author posts a link from NPR’s Ira Glass about fostering your creativity and getting to it, that valuable stuff we’re looking to get to. Sometimes I fear it’s not there in me, so this kind of positive affirmation helps.

3. Healing Touch, from One Day at a Time: Thoughts on Getting Out of B.E.D. I am really struggling at work right now. “Fake it till you make it” is an old adage that has been working well for me in the last few years of my practice. I may not be as into something as I think I should be, but I can pretend I am and then I get there. Right now, it’s too much work to even pretend. I am mad that I have to pretend. I resent pretending, and I’m miserable right now. This blog post reminds me to not give my “feelings” too much power – they are only feelings, and those can be fleeting.  Feelings change, and I won’t be in this position forever.

What do you think of these picks?!  Are there any posts you’ve found this week that have inspired you? And check out the next installation next week!

Travelogue: Krakow – Best Place I Never Planned to Visit

~ Sahara ~ 3 Comments

10 years ago, my best friend gave me a beautiful gold and red journal that is almost sacred to me, so I don’t like writing just any old stuff in it.  The first time I traveled solo, I took it with me to write about the adventure, and I’ve taken it on every trip since.  Something I haven’t done before on this blog is to pull from those pages, share with you the things I thought, felt, experienced from my various trips, but today, thanks to a prompt about travel writing, I’m going to share one of them

Backstory: I have been part of the travel community Couchsurfing since 2007, and have made many friends all over the world on this site. (It has deteriorated severely since going public and becoming for-profit not long ago, but that’s a story for another time.) In 2009, the fine CSers of Krakow were hosting a couch crash, a several-day series of events and celebrations in one particular city. It’s just an excuse to travel, have fun, get to know cool CSers and a different city in a way you normally wouldn’t. My friend Denise was going to be passing Krakow for it, and, on a lark, I decided to meet her there. These are my notes from that trip. (This post is long, but worth it.):

Day One

Is there anything more delicious than the first shower after a few days? I think not.

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Untitled

~ Sahara ~ 9 Comments

I read a line from a fellow blogger’s post today, something written in response to the Daily Prompt. It was a short poem, but the last line of it really captured me:

“A day like no other begins like all others.”

This makes me think of all the special days in my life, how they all began the same way. Then, the day that is so rapidly approaching, the day for which I am so excited, my wedding day, will begin like all the others.

I am so excited for the wedding that I don’t feel like I can stand it. I was never one of those girls who dreamt about their weddings and had it all planned out, and in fact, we chose to have a destination wedding to make it easier to plan. Now I’m noticing that, as the time draws nearer, decisions I have been thinking about for months are being made. For example, all the RSVPs were due yesterday, and now we’ll have a better idea of who is coming to our destination wedding. Now, we can get to work getting them discounted rooms.

Which is all very good.

So I think about my wedding day and the days surrounding it, which will begin like all others, and I will be with my best friends and family in Disney World, a place where I’ve had so much fun playing with Cohiba, and finally marrying my Cohiba. Everyone of those days, as unique and pregnant with possibility as they are, will begin just like any other.

My Surprisingly Super and Sweet 16

~ Sahara ~ 4 Comments

In this past week’s Downton Abbey, as our dear Mr. Carson said, in the best quote of the episode, “The business of life is the acquisition of memories; in the end that’s all there is.” <sigh>

And to that end, I roast chestnuts over the memory fires about my 16th birthday. As it happens, I was not really deserving of the wonderful celebration and events around that year, which may even make them more special.

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The Start of Something New

~ Sahara ~ 3 Comments

(This is my first attempt at writing in the Gonzo style. How did I do?)

I walked up the crumbling sidewalk outside a wall-less cafe on a busy corner of bright shops by a St. Maarten beach. Sprigs of grass jumping between the cracks of the sidewalk mimicked skinny black trees jutting through the clay roof of the cafe. I sat as a small white metal table. A distracted waitress with a Dutch accent brought “a coffe,” and calamari, hot and oily, and wrapped in wax paper in an orange waffle basket. I squirted thick dollop of peppery tomato sauce to one side.

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