R is for Ruby Boots

Letter of the Day:  R

R is for Ruby Boots and a guest post by my friend Dawn Timbs, a writer and sing/songwriter.  I saw her first when she sang at a concert at a local church.  I thought she was amazing.  She visited that same church on the last Sunday that I played piano there.  I'd had a terrible experience that could have crushed my music making spirit, but as I walked out of the church, I found myself walking with Dawn and her husband (the guy I call the man with the fabulous fingers - he's amazing at the keyboard), and I told her that I'd loved her singing when she was there.  She thanked me for playing that day and said, "You play with such feeling."  Those words lifted me up and helped me get back on the piano bench and play to my heart's delight.  Thank you, Dawn.

Here's her story and a lovely photo of Dawn and her sisters in Ruby Boots.

R is for Ruby Boots, a folk/country/gospel band with Minnesota roots.



Consisting of three sisters - Dawn, Andrea and Heather - Ruby Boots performs select concerts each year, singing songs about life and love, heartache and inspiration.


They've been singing together since they were kids and part of the family gospel band The Schimpps. Vocally, the sisters have a blend that can only be found in family ensembles.


Their music has been featured on public radio stations across the country; and they were guest performers at a live broadcast of Minnesota Public Radio's Morning Show.


Dawn is the songwriter of the group. By day, she is a reporter with the Staples World, an enjoyable job which has put her in contact with a wide variety of people and events.


Currently, she is working on a new project...songs inspired by stories found in the local newspaper. She hopes to have the band record them sometime this year.


The name Ruby Boots comes from a line in Dawn's song, The Man from Alabama. It tells the story of when she first met her husband, a musician from the south who played a "smokin' hot" piano and wore red boots.


Mr. Ruby Boots (aka Gary Timbs) plays a major role in the band's recordings as well as live performances. A Grammy and Dove-nominated performer (with various gospel and country groups), Gary has wowed audiences across the country with his rich baritone voice and "Southern-fried" keyboard skills.


This summer, Ruby Boots will take the stage at Nordic Fest in Decorah, Iowa, where Andrea lives with her husband and three kids.


For more information about the group, check out their website at http://www.rubyboots.com/; or http://www.cdbaby.com/.

Dawn and I had lunch together this week.  I'm hoping we'll have a chance, someday, to collaborate on a project.  Thanks for writing a guest post today, Dawn.  I can't wait to hear your new creations!

Go. Create. Inspire!

Journaling Prompt:  Do you know someone that you'd like to work with on a project?  What would your creative team look like?

Q is for Quotes

Letter of the Day: Q

Q is for quotes and quests and questions.  Never stop questioning on your quest for greatness!  That quote is from me!  I love a good quest story - the journey, the hero (the best are the unsuspecting heroes), the villian, nature's barriers, the hero's self-doubt and need for self-examination, the nay-sayers - including the reluctant hero, and often something or someone that needs to be rescued.  Of course, The Wizzard of Oz is the most classic of all quest tales. I also liked watching the animated feature Quest for Camelot with my boys. What are your favorites?

The path is calling you.

And, finally QUOTES!  Enjoy and be inspired!
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. ~ Goethe

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them and try to follow where they lead. – Louisa May Alcott



Use what talent YOU possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except for those that sang best. – Henry Van Dyke

Don't say you don’t have enough time. YOU have EXACTLY the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein. – H. Jackson Brown, Jr.


I am only one – but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something. I will not refuse to do something I can do. – Helen Keller

Just when the caterpillar thought his life was over, he became a butterfly. – Anonymous


When we are allowed to dream far-fetched and ridiculous, we become super creative. That's where the Harry Potters are born. – Hope Clark from fundsforwriters.com


But the oldest practice is still the best. Take your soul for a stroll. Long walks, short walks, morning walks, evening walks – whatever form or length it takes. Walking is the best way to get out of your head. Recall the invocation of the philosopher Soren Kirkegaard, who said, "Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness: I have walked myself into some of my best thoughts." – Phil Cousineau


There are moments when all anxiety and stated toil are becalmed in the infinite leisure and repose of nature. – Henry David Thoreau


Therefore, encourage one another, and build each other up. 1 Thessalonians 5:11


There's a candle in your heart ready to be kindled. There's a void in your soul ready to be filled. You feel it - don't you! - Rumi

That last one is my very favorite.  It's the one that woke me up.
 
Go. Create. Inspire!
 
Journaling Prompt:  What are your favorite quest stories, shows or movies?  Do you have a quote that really speaks to you?  How are you doing with your craft right now?

Mom update

There isn't one. We are still waiting for mid -May for mom's next scan to see if her daily medication is working. Minus some pain in her knees she is doing well. Spirits are still up and she is trying to stay busy. Please continue to pray for her. :) We hope that there will be no new growth and or stagnant growth on her lymphnodes and to continue on the medication for another three months. Dad is still looking up trials just in case and mom is still trying to decide on what chemo treatment to take if needed. That's all of an update I have at this time!

P is for Piano Recital

Letter of the Day:  P

P is for Piano Recital and a plethora of pleasing words that provide promise.  I love the letter P.  I did a whole presentation at a writer's conference using words that begin with P.  I'll provide a list after I tell you about our piano recital.  Here are all my adorable piano students!

I'm the one on the far left holding out the program.  Next to me is my one adult student, Holly.  I had players from age 6 to 36 performing.  The girl in front with the blue skirt started just over a month ago.  We had the recital at a local assisted living center.  I'd say about 10 residents came in to hear us.  The room was full of family and friends, residents, a few staff, and one proud piano teacher.  It takes courage to play in front of people, and I hope they all felt the success of their hard work and perseverence.  The message this year was that we can all begin something new at any age.  So many people were inspired by Holly learning the piano and performing.  She's only played a few months.  One of her friends wrote: "congratulations, I admire you!!!!!!"

I had a couple of piano and flute duets.  Here are two sisters.

Pick your favorite word, and Play on, my friends....
patience
practice
peace
pleasure
personalize
paint
pray
play
plan
party
plot
pun
pretend
pen
process
prioritize
persistence
passion
pressure
print-out
pretty

And, don't forget pal.  We all need a good writing buddy.  One of mine is Peacegardenmama.  She's my best writer-mama-pal.

I dedicated this recital to Matilda the Piano Cat.  She died just over a week before the recital.  She loved sitting on the bench and listening to the students play.  Sometimes they still reach down to pet her, but she's only there in spirit.

Journaling Prompt:  Did you ever play in a recital?  How did it go?  Have you attended any? Give me some more inspirational P words!

What's happening in a Colorado garden

Dividing. Or trying to. With these winds I have tried to work outside but keep blowing sideways. Quite a few things to divide to make the plants look their best! Shasta daisies (the great whole in the middle is a clear indication they need division ), Gallardia, or blanket flower (these suckers bloom themselves to death. Division rejuvenates them), asters (they will take over, and who doesn't want more in other places?), Yarrow (same as asters...for the most part!), Rudbeckia and Red Valerian(too close to my flagstone path. I also need to move my echinacea Magnus as it gets in my way getting out of my car. Looking at my Dianthus, too, which needs some new life. That essentially is why we divide. To breathe new life into our plants. They get too crowded where they are and their roots need breathing room.

Preparing soil. I also re-tilled my vegetable garden while adding a new product that has no poop in it! All vegetable and fruit compost. I am curious to see the results. I planted my first round of lettuce and snap peas (a little late) and am very happy with the soil.

Pulling weeds. Get 'em!! Right now they are relatively small but waiting one week could be the difference of a hand spade to a garden shovel! Every year we have little elms that try to grow, and we saw the first round this weekend.

Feeding. Fed all of my trees and shrubs and now am feeding my perennials. Lots of work, but it is worth it with our terrible soil!

Planning. Moving plants in other places to make room for more purchases this spring!

O is for Oscars

I need to start with a correction from N is for Name.  The photo of Nancy in the green sweatshirt was actually taken by our younger sister Joy.  We were passing my camera around that day, which is where I got confused.  Sorry, Joy, for the mistake.  I regret the error.

Letter of the Day:  O

O, I've been waiting for this day.  I love the Oscars.  I love the glitz, the glamour, the show, the highlights, the red carpet, and the speeches. O, and don't forget the movies themselves.  Not all our favorite movies get Oscar awards, or even nominations.  Usually, they're arty or bizarre.  They often have complicated plots and characters, and they aren't the kind you watch over and over.  My son wondered why so many are rated R. 

I think that comedy is horribly ignored on awards night.  It takes great skill and timing to do comedy well.  If you want to unwind and escape from your stress, don't you reach for the comedy?  I do.

During our Spring Break, we had a stay-cation, which means we stayed home, slept in, had friends over, and watched movies.  I caught up on some of the Oscars from 2010 and before.  Here are some supplies you need for movie night, double or triple the recipe for a whole week of movies.

I was planning on doing some movie reviews following our stay-cation, but got caught up in the A-Z challenge of April, so sorry to make you wait.  Today, I'll write about The Social Network, and Juno.  I'll save Slumdog Millionaire for S Day.

As a movie, The Social Network is well done.  It has great pacing, good storytelling, interesting characters, and a fascinating setting. It won the Oscar for Writing.  I don't think I'll ever watch it again.  I found myself not liking Mr. Zuckerberg at all.  His date at the beginning of the movie says it best, "You're going to think that you don't have a girlfriend because you're a computer geek, but that's not true. You won't have a girlfriend because you're a jerk."  And, he is.  He steals ideas.  He uses his friend, then tries to cut him off. He retaliates for the rejection he feels from his date by forming a rating system for women on his campus.  It turns out that a person who lacks real life social skills created an online network where you interact through screens.  (This could get me on a whole new topic on our social needs, but I'll save that for another day.)  What this movie lacks, for me, is a hero.  I didn't have anyone to root for.

Then, I watched Juno.  O, I loved Juno, the movie and the character.  Of course, the setting is near and dear to my heart, Minnesota.  It is so wonderfully midwestern, not the "midwestern" where it's depicted as simple, calm, white-picket fence, peaceful and mundane.  A girl gets pregnant and she handles it with grace and courage.  It's not shameful or horrible.  It's a big deal, yes, but not the end of the world.  It won the Oscar for Best Writing!  I love cheering for the best original screenplay.  That is my dream.  I watch the Oscars and write my acceptance speech in my head.  Juno is original and thoughtful with authentic characters and dialogue and has the most satisfying ending.  I found myself rooting for many of the characters in this story who are trying to make a less than ideal situation something honorable and beautiful.  Juno wants the best possible family for her child.  She says, "I don't want them to be shitty and broken like everyone else's family."  As she's trying to figure out the complexities of life and relationships, her dad asks what's going on. She responds, "Just out dealing with things way beyond my maturity level."

I would give Juno the Oscar for best original music.  It fits the story and setting beautifully.

Journaling Prompt:  Do you have opinions about either of these movies or any Oscar nominees?  Do you watch the Oscars?  Who had the best dress this year?  Best acceptance speech?  I liked the gal who was so shocked that she swore. (Melissa Leo in “The Fighter”)

N is for Name

Letter of the Day:  N

N is for name and Nancy, my older sister.  I also like calling her my big sister.  She is the closest in age of my siblings.  I'm number four out of six.  She's number three, but tried to call herself number one at Mom and Dad's 50th Anniversary celebration. Our oldest brother Nathan quickly claimed the title.  Here's a picture from our teen years.  We've been arguing since its development who it is.  I say it's me.  Clearly, you can see my eye, the wisp of dark hair that I always had curled.  Plus, that's MY shirt.

This next one is of Nancy.  I know, because I took it just this past September, and she's wearing her own darn shirt!

As you can see, we have a complicated, yet loving relationship.  When I went to Germany in college, Nancy said to her friends, "Your friends come and go, but you always wait for your sister to come home from Germany."  And, when I talked to her about this guest post she said she liked this challenge because she could read my blog every morning while drinking her coffee.  I told that to Joy, the little sister, and she said she felt the same way.  When I wasn't posting very often, she'd keep checking.  Well, enough about me. Here's Nancy...

After reading Mary’s first blog post in her A-Z challenge, I was the one who suggested she write about names. A few days ago she asked if I would be a guest writer on the Day of N (I decided to capitalize it to make it more significant). So in keeping with the spirit of the challenge, I decided to write about my name, Nancy.



My name is Nancy Caroline Aalgaard Hanson, but I think if I had been named by description, my name would likely be Nancy Dead Horse or Nancy Working Horse, neither of which I would appreciate very much. There’s a story in our family about how dismayed my grandmother was to find out I was named Nancy. As the story goes, when my dad was just a boy, his mother had an old work horse named Nancy. I imagine her to be a sad old mare, hump-backed, broken with the weight of work. Back in those days, they didn't keep horses as pets, or even just as a means of transportation. The Nancy horse was surely a working animal, and I imagine her life wasn't a terribly happy existence. So when Grandma found out I was to be called Nancy, I guess she wasn't very pleased about my unfortunate name. She reminded my dad of the used-to-be horse she had, but it didn't make any difference. My parents liked Nancy, and so Nancy it was, even over my paternal grandmother’s objections.


I didn’t hear the story about the dead horse until I was ten or eleven years old, and at that time, I was toying with calling myself Jean anyway, and dreaming my real father was Howard Hughes, and one day he would reclaim me as his own and make me fabulously rich. I never did extend this fantasy to its logical conclusion, never did wonder how it happened that a small grain farmer and his wife could end up with the lost child of one of the richest men in the world. Billionaire. Two times over. The word didn’t mean a thing to me, other than it would mean I could do pretty much whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it. There’s no coincidence, really, that my Howard-Hughes-is-my-real-father-and-is-someday-going-to-make-me-fabulously-rich-scenario coincided exactly with feeling like I had landed in the wrong family. I mean really, who on earth would name a beloved daughter after someone’s dead horse?

(I'd like to interject here, again, to point out that Nancy used to tell me that I was the one adopted.  I used to fantasize that my real dad was Captain Kirk from the Starship Enterprise.)


I spent a lot of time thinking about that horse and asking questions, but no one could remember anything specific about it. Figures. I doubt very much the Nancy horse was a beautiful thing, and apparently not a favorite. Life on the prairie was pretty tough, and my namesake, like my own family, probably had to scrounge for food, and probably made do with very little. There might be a picture of my namesake, however, no one could confirm that the horse depicted in it was the actual Nancy horse—it could have been anyone, really. This picture shows my grandma, back in 1936, standing next to a single chisel plow that was hooked up to what can only be described as a reluctant beast of burden. I suppose that sad horse was my namesake: Nancy of the endless work, Nancy of the dirt and mud, Nancy of the sad existence.

(Grandma, Dad, and Nancy's backside)

It didn’t take me long to figure out that my name singled me out from my siblings. There were six of us in all, three boys and three girls—like the Brady Bunch. My brothers’ names are Nathan, Philip, and James. Nathan, after the Old Testament prophet who rebuked the mighty King David for his bad behavior with Bathsheba; Philip and James, after two apostles to Christ. My sisters are Mary and Joy. If you haven’t picked up on the theme yet, you probably haven’t been paying attention. By the time you get to Mary, you should be associating something about these names with other words, like “holy” and “Bible” and “religious.” Even Joy, who isn’t a character in the good book will probably make you think of something Christian-related—the result of Grace, for instance, or Faith. Those are my siblings. And then there’s me—Nancy. I wonder now why my parents didn’t consider naming me Naomi, or Rachel, or even Miriam, I would have liked that name. Instead they settled on honoring my great-grandma with my middle name, Caroline, and my grandma’s dead horse with my first.

Journaling Prompt:  Write the story of your name.