Turning back time

If I could turn back time, I’d:
Pray more
Smile more
Hug more
Love more
Enjoy more
Relax more
Travel more
Laugh more
Write more
Read more
Learn more
Exercise more
Sing more
See more
Feel more
Hear more
If I could turn back time, I’d:
Reject less
Worry less
Hurry less
Work less
Cry less
Hurt less
How about you?

What are sisters?

Sisters are:
Cheerleaders
Motivators
Listeners
Fighters
Secret keepers
Hand holders
Huggers
Kick-in-the-butt-ers
Memory keepers
Confidence builders
But most of all, sisters are friends, the kind who love you no matter what.
I’ve been blessed to have four sisters, and I love each one with all my heart. Each one is different and yet amazing in their own way. This post is in memory of my oldest sister, Wendy Lee Aughenbaugh, who mothered and loved her four younger sisters and taught them that there is no greater gift than the gift of love. I miss you terribly, Wendy, but I hear you in my head each day encouraging me to love with everything I have and live life to its fullest.

Confessions of an obsessaholic No. 10: Curtains and basket liners

I love Longaberger baskets. I’ve even coordinated basket liners with curtains in particular rooms. For example, I have Longaberger Lilac Rose curtains in my dining room and the baskets in this room have coordinating liners. Ditto for the Fruit Medley curtains and basket liners in the kitchen, the Orchard Park Plaid curtains and basket liners in the family room and the Traditional Red curtains and basket liners in the living room. Just another example of my crazy self. I could be a poster child for the company!

Remember summer when we were young

• covered in red juice from eating cherry snowballs
• crying at church camp because we were so homesick
• staying awake all night because we were excited to go on vacation and then too tired to enjoy the beginning of it
• sitting in the cherry tree stuffing our mouths full of fruit
• capturing fireflies on a muggy August night
• waterlogged from spending the day at the pool
• decorating our bikes for the parade at the park
• holding penny carnivals in the backyard
• selling lemonade from our homemade stand in front of the house
• battling with water balloons
• traipsing through the creek in our bare feet and slipping on slimy rocks
• picking up fallen apples and getting stung by bees
• playing hide-and-seek and foxes and hounds and kick the can
• sleeping out in the tent in the backyard
• telling ghost stories and doing dares

Oh, to be young again. The summer of our youth was a wondrous time.

Confessions of an obsessaholic No. 9: Dish detergents and handsoaps

How weird is this? My kitchen curtains are red and green and purple and blue. Sounds garish, but they are really pretty.

Anyway, I like to buy dish detergent and hand soap that complement the curtains. For example, from Palmolive’s Spring Sensations Collection (which I like best) I buy Fresh Green Apple (a green), Lavender and Ylang Ylang (a purple) or Crisp Cucumber Melon (a red).

I pair these Palmolive dish detergents with Dial Complete Pump Foaming Soaps, either Fresh Pear (a green) or Cool Plum (a purple) or Cranberry (a red). Now I don’t pair two reds and two greens and two purples, I mix and match. So I might pair the green dish detergent with the cranberry hand soap or the purple dish detergent with a green hand soap.

I’m sure no one even notices this quirky thing, but it’s makes my obsessive self happy. How many of you coordinate this sort of thing?

Excerpt from High Street Gang/Locket

Elizabeth was still on the computer when I walked up to her with a white jewelry box.

“Get lost," she said.

"But I thought you might like to see what I found."

She looked up. "You found a necklace? Let me see it. Let me see it.”

I took off the lid and wiggled my finger.

Elizabeth screamed so loud I thought the neighbors would call 911.

"Mmm. Road kill," I said, licking the blood off my finger.

"You pig! You pig! You're so gross!" She ran to the bathroom and I could hear her throwing up.

My plan worked perfectly. Elizabeth really thought that it was someone's finger I had found along the road. But it was just my finger smothered in ketchup. I had cut holes in the bottom of the jewelry box and cotton liner, poked my finger through the holes and rested it on the cotton liner.

"What's wrong, Elizabeth?" Mom yelled, running up the basement steps.

Uh-oh. Time to bolt.

"It's Mags. She found a finger on the road and has it in a jewelry box. There's blood all over it."

"Margaret Mary," Mom called.

I came downstairs all cleaned up.

"What's this about a finger in a box?"

"Don’t know what she’s talking about. I think Lizzy's reading too many horror novels.”

Elizabeth glared at me. "I saw it. It was in a necklace box."

I looked at Mom, shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

"Maybe Mags is right," Mom said. "Maybe you are reading too many horror novels. I’m not sure what’s up with you two, but it’s over. Dinner’s ready.”

I followed Elizabeth to the table.

"I'll get you back," she whispered. "You never know what can happen in a cemetery at night."

"Yeah," I said. "There are lots of dead fingers there, Lizzy. Maybe a few of them will grab you."

Confessions of an obsessaholic No. 8: Lists

I’m a list person. I love making to-do lists then crossing off items as I accomplish them. For example, a typical to-do list might look something like this:

Drop Kakita at groomers

Target (Vanilla latte?)

Grocery store

Pick up Kakita

Golf

Borders

Kohl’s

Write

Of course, this list contains items that would have individual lists, like a list of items I’m buying at Target or the grocery store. And, here’s a confession: Sometimes when something isn’t on the list and I accomplish it, I put it on just so I can cross it off.

I won’t even try to explain the list on my desk at work, which changes constantly as reporters file stories, I edit and return for revisions, they make changes and file again, I edit again – just describing this process makes me dizzy. But, trust me, it works. The notations on my list tell me what stage a particular story is in.

Are you a list maker or do you keep it all in your head?

I wish summer could stay forever

I wish summer could stay forever, wrapping me in its warmth and kissing me with rays of sunshine.

I wish summer could stay forever, fireflies flickering in the night and the moon standing guard in the starry sky.

I wish summer could stay forever, tomatoes dangling from twisty vines and sweet corn hiding in coats of green.

I wish summer could stay forever, children’s laughter spilling through open windows and the ice-cream truck bell singing as it snakes through the neighborhood.

I wish summer could stay forever, sun-drenched clothes bobbing on clotheslines and steaks sizzling over white coals.

I wish summer could stay forever, green grass tickling bare toes and butterfly bushes dressed in vibrant hues.

I wish summer could stay forever, but it can’t.

Fall will prepare a colorful feast for our eyes then Old Man Winter will yawn and stretch his snowy arms. Spring will escort nature’s reawakening, but it’s summer, ah summer, that I love most.

I wish it could stay forever.

Confessions of an obsessaholic No. 7: File folders

If you’ve been following my blog, you know that I love organizing things. I’m in love with manila folders. Oh how they bring me joy. I fill them with all sorts of things – like store receipts and school newsletters and birthday cards and toy instructions and report cards and millions and millions of other items flat enough to fit. If it can go into a manila folder, it does.

When it comes to organizing my work e-mail, I have tons of folders under the save tab. I have a folder for every person I work with (and some that I don’t but frequently e-mail). One for each project I’m working on or for each group I’m involved with. Some folders have sub folders. For example, I have a letters folder under which can be found a good letter folder and a bad letter folder. When I get a letter from a reader praising me for something (which rarely happens), I put it in the good letter folder. When I get a letter blasting me for something that only a complete idiot would do (like eliminate a particular Sunday comic) I put that in my bad letter folder. And, some folders that have sub folders that have sub folders. Try to figure that one out. Just my normal crazy self.

Excerpt from "The Brain Invaders'

But that’s me, Alex. Always trying to save the world, or at least those people I care about. And, lately, it seems like more and more of the people I care about are changing. They’re different. Not completely human. I know it sounds weird but I swear it’s the truth.

First Mrs. McGee. Then my sister’s old piano teacher and my minister.

They look like humans.

They walk and talk like humans.

But they aren’t completely human – and now I know why.

Some of my writing tweets

• Writing is like peeling an orange. You pick away at the shell until you get to the delicious fruit inside. And then enjoy it.
• Writing that inspires us is like getting candy as a kid - a delightful treat:)
• I'm in love with writing, but sometimes I swear it hates me. Doesn't want to cooperate. Can be stubborn and downright nasty. Listen up, U!
• Writing is the key that unlocks the stories battling in our brains to get out.
• Writing is our medicine. It makes us feel better.
• Writing is like eating dessert -- you can never get enough of it.
• Writing sweetens our day and makes life so much richer.
• Writing is a mental massage that soothes our soul in ways nothing else ever could.
• Writing is as natural and essential as breathing.

Now your turn. Writing is...

Excerpt from High Street Gang/Haunted Barn

My friends took off for the food stand and I started doodling on the score pad. That's when my sister, Elizabeth, showed up.

"What's up, punk," she said, pulling the tablet out of my hand.

"Get lost.”

"When did you learn shorthand?"

"I didn't."

"Well, this is shorthand. I should know. I taught myself from one of Mom’s old text books just for fun.”

"Well, if it's shorthand, what does it say, smarty?"

"You'll find Anna in West Side Nursing Home. Hurry. Time is running out.”

"That scribble says all that?"

I grabbed the tablet to look at it. Still looked like scribble to me.

"Who's Anna?" she asked.

"I don't know."

“Then why’d you write it?”

“I didn’t. Well, at least I didn’t know that I did.”

"You’re really weird. And I suppose you’re going to tell me that you also didn’t know you wrote West Side Nursing Home. Where’s that, anyway? Never heard of it."

"Me, neither."

"Then why'd you write it?"

"I told you I didn't write it. I mean I didn't know that I did. I was just doodling."

"How can you write in shorthand and not even know it? Give me a break, dweeb."