Hello, 2016

This is going to be short and sweet, because the gist of my goals this year is to simplify. For the last several years, I have boxed in my goals. I have set numbers and measures, and that has been fantastic. However, some things can't be counted, and I think it's time to deal with some of those. These goals may seem vague compared to previous years, but I hope that by allowing myself some freedom I can actually reach further.

This year, my resolutions are simple.

1) I am going to work on my body and mindset towards exercise. I'm not just going to lose weight to look better or to help control my diabetes, I am going to become more active in general and let that drive other improvements. This year, my goal is to find 1-3 activities that I enjoy. I don't see me being a gym person, so I'm going to explore active things to do that are a better fit.

2) I am going to do as much good for my community as I can. I am going to help welcome refugees to the area and do everything I can to help them settle and flourish. I'm going to help the homeless and the hungry, and I will make as big of a difference as I can. No restrictions. No goals.

3) I am going to uncover three major things that the citizens of Springfield need to know. I have no idea what those things might be. I am going to research, look for clues, think creatively, and find stories that matter.

4) I am going to expand my writing into four new markets. They may not all be published in 2016, but to qualify they must be accepted in 2016 (I can't help that some people get articles 4-6 months in advance). I'm going to cold call and submit and branch out into new areas.

5) I am going to take one writer who wants my help and dedicate myself as a mentor. Rather than help coach 5-10 throughout the year, I'd like to take one person with great potential and help them realize their goals, and pay back to the craft that has made my life so wonderful.

Bonus Bucket List Wish: To perform such good work that I make a measurable and noticeable difference.

That's it. My challenge this year isn't to take it easy, but to take these wide open parameters and see how much good I can do when I have nothing driving me except positive results.

Goodbye, 2015

My God, where do I begin? This year kicked my ass sideways, and I put up one heck of a fight.

School was a mighty struggle this year. I put a lot of work in, but bit off more than I could chew. I had to drop a class and realign my priorities to get across the finish line. But I did.

This year, I had things happen that I never thought would be possible. I lost my temper and publicly lost my shit for about a month. People from all around the world showed their understanding and support. Through this I managed to change my career trajectory, quite by accident. I met people who are making our city better. I came across some amazing stories this year. I didn't ask for these stories, but when I started digging I realized I had come across some important things. I don't measure my success in number of hits, but I did manage to get my name out there.

There were surreal moments. When I found myself on a Facebook meme, I was hilariously and horribly amused. A lot of people hated me who didn't know me, but a lot of people liked me and got to know me, so in the end I managed to take every sour situation and turn it into a win. I got rape threats, violent threats, and was called the Whore of Springfield. I mean, really??  Yes, really. Most of the time I was able to either ignore it altogether or turn it into a joke. It was definitely an experience, one I am pretty sure I am going to repeat in 2016. I don't think my haters are going anywhere.

I made a major career decision in working transparently, a decision I will stick with and let it speak for my credibility and principles. Liars hide, I have no reason to, so unless there is a very good reason I operate in full public view. I learned that readers respect this, and many have gone so far as to offer suggestions. I have great communication with my readers, and this has given collective minds a place to ask questions and get involved. If I learned anything this year, it is that many people yearn to make a difference if they can only figure out how.

This was my most successful year yet. Despite an occasional false start or misstep, I made great professional strides. Not just who I write for or how much I get paid. I realized people came to me asking for words and I was filling a need. When I was blowing up Facebook and Twitter, women were thanking me left and right for giving them words to frame their arguments. I did what I thought was impossible- I occasionally won an argument on the Internet. I actually did change a few minds. Though I generally write to express my own thoughts, it was rewarding to see some people I respected stick with me and come to new conclusions. When I laid down the proof on GO:61 and their questionable practices, I backed it with enough evidence to stop an entire force cold. Crickets. I worked the entire case in the public eye, while they hid the best they could. I showed what independent journalism could do, and I feel like I tested myself to make sure this was what I felt called to do, and the answer was yes.

Though we had some challenges, we had more ups than downs this year. My husband got an official chef title, which is years ahead of schedule. I changed jobs and found a great fit that keeps me pleasantly challenged and with a lot of freedom. I miss my old coworkers but I love my new ones, and everyone is still in the same building. I have always liked my job, but now I am extra happy and feel like this is where I ought to be.

Though a lot happened this year, and the bulk of it went my way, I cannot help but feel it is a setup for a far busier year to come.

RESOLUTIONS:

I did not finish my collection of essays, but I still made progress. I'm 2/3 done and should be ready to publish by summer, when I go back to school.

I did reorganize and completely develop my online office, all communication tools. I have my systems firmly switched over, and my office supplies runneth over. I have tested all of my changes and so far they've been great.

I did my random acts of kindness, one major one per month, and one minor one per week. I occasionally chose someone I knew but more often than not I would find a total stranger to help, and gave them a good deal of thought as to what would help the most.

I exceeded my writing goals, which makes me happy since I thought I was setting them pretty darned high. CBS Local has increased my assignments, and I am still freelance and set my own terms.

I ended the year at the weight I wanted. I didn't lose any more  than that, but I made it with one pound to spare.

So with one notable exception, I met or exceeded my resolutions. I'm going to call this year a tremendous win and hope my momentum launches me into a solid 2016.

Why Was I So Angry? (Reflections on Springfield MO, Burnett and GO:61)

As the year begins to wind down, I'm looking back at what all has happened and drafting my end of the year post. A whole lot of crazy stuff has happened, for sure. A lot of people think I'm this raging activist and I swear I'm not. This year, however, I was angrier than I have ever been. Ever, in my whole life. And I'm still angry, it just burns deeper and makes coals that fuel what I do. Today, while time stood still in the waiting room from hell, I identified a core problem that has manifested itself in a thousand smaller problems. And one question I have never really answered was the one everyone asked: why are you so angry?

It wasn't ever about nipples. And for me personally, it was about so many things I had to really dig deep to puzzle it through. Today I had hours to kill today in a waiting room, so I finally had that kind of time. I mean, it wasn't blind rage, I had good reasons to be angry. But I had not taken my time to really work through the whole "tweets of fury" thing and analyze it to understand it thoroughly. This is only from the angle of why was I so angry. There will be "why were you so skeptical" and "why did you punch so hard" posts to come later that will tell it from those perspectives. Because this was only a tiny part of my problems with what went down in our local government and charities putting out unverified information. This is just about why I was so angry that it came off me in waves.

Ultimately, my rage comes back to this: I am furious because people want me to be afraid. On a small scale, I've been threatened this year alone with being raped into making sense, beaten into making sense, and being held against my will while someone coerced me into agreeing with them. On a bigger scale, the world wants me to be powerful but "ladylike" (a word whose definition changes from person to person so I'm encouraged to play it safe and not risk offending anyone), strong but not so strong I make anyone uncomfortable, and intelligent but not show up the wrong people by speaking my mind if I know better. I was supposed to sit in the back row, be quiet and courteous and if I played just right, maybe someone would listen to me if I followed all the subliminal cues and asked nicely.

Ain't nobody got time for that. And I found out the day my city voted against me as a full citizen and learned that Burnett was going to use this new tool to squash a legal protest, that I just gave my last fuck about what someone might think of me. I was going to say what I thought, and own the consequences. There came a point when I committed and decided I would rather go down fighting than stand by and do nothing. We were suddenly lesser people by our own city's law, and that could not go unchallenged. Women pay the same amount of taxes, but now we have to make sure we don't cause "affront or alarm" or we risked having our morals judged and sentenced on a whim. The fact that our rights were even being voted on was sickening to thousands of women who watched and hoped and were eventually let down. They literally created a fashion police to keep women obedient.

This understanding of trying to scare women into obedient submission is the root of a problem that has held us back for... well, since forever, since that conditioning starts in childhood. Then my city passed a law that said making people uncomfortable with my choices in dress was illegal. IF they decided to enforce it. The "if" was supposed to make "the right ones" feel better while "the bad women" had a lingering threat to keep them in line. Then Burnett recommended a half-baked charity that among its many claims stated that women could be ordered up like pizzas. Helpless women, stupid and needing rescued, those defenseless little things. Except they never produced a single woman who vouched for their service or the quality of help received. Still, women's credibility as capable beings took a ding while nearly everyone swallowed this load of bull without question. Though GO:61 has shown themselves to be cowards who consider questions like "how much money has been donated this year?" and "how much of that goes out in direct aid?" too aggressive. Well, no. I disagree. If someone is going to assert that 600 women are for sale like pizzas and that is double from the month before, that person had better be ready to show their math. They refused.

I had a good friend tell me when she spoke to her husband about discrimination she experiences, and he simply dismissed it with "no, you don't." That was it, subject closed. In his superior knowledge, he had the nerve to tell his life partner what her experiences are in a workplace he has never seen. Dismissed without a bit of thought about the possibility that she knew something he didn't about it. Because it was her own fucking story she was telling him, I'm just guessing she had some facts to impart. That kind of dismissal happens all the time. Each one hurts like hell. "I know something." "No, you don't. Go make me a sandwich." RInse and repeat and wonder why we get so emotional. More of that conditioning for you. And this was from a nice guy, I should mention. One of the good ones, so imagine what all the wives of average and subpar husbands deal with.

All of those things happened in a two week span. No. NO. Never, no, no fucking way.

I decided to fight back by refusing to give in. I am not afraid someone is going to scoop me up and take me away. I'm not afraid of some stupid flashing light on my cell phone and would never blame an innocent business for my hysteria. I refuse to be cowed and I will not back down. I'll call a bluff every time, because I have earned that right. I am competent, strong and a fully developed person in my own right. I don't owe the world my best outfit every day and a smile when I don't feel like it. I am held to the same standards as men, and therefore I demand the same rights. When my very own councilman tried to make me worry that my boobs might get me arrested, I had finally hit my limit. So I put it to the test.

I was (partly) right, too. The first thing that hit was a wall of intimidation. Threats by the gazillions flooded my Facebook inbox, where the bulk of this took place. Some came through my site, but the worst were always through Facebook. I didn't take it to heart, I just blocked them if they crossed crazy lines and went on. But I read every single one, because I feel obligated to read every word sent to me. It was hard as hell to not be afraid of that, especially when it was at its peak. But when I decided I wasn't going to be afraid and held it, they quickly ran out of ammo and faded away. And that was it. A flutter, a scream, and dead silence afterwards. Some tried to keep a banter going, but they were weeded out quickly.

So now I know what to do to combat the source of my rage. I'm going to wear whatever I want, say whatever I want, and I goddamn dare someone to try to stop me. Because if my mailbag had any themes in common, it was thanks for giving words to the ideas that many women were thinking, and secondly for standing up and saying "oh hell no." Women I've never met still write to me regularly, taking baby steps in standing up for themselves, and it all started with one little dipshit who can't understand the difference between scripture and law for all citizens of all types. After the ACLU is done with this, it will likely all be rolled back to how it was before. What will have changed is that there are new people paying attention to what goes on around here.

I guess I'll shut up and get back to it. When you find yourself waiting for hours, some people sleep and some people write the mother of all blog posts on their phones. But here's one that I feel I can answer and do it justice. This all happened so fast, and there were so many things I said I'd answer when I could take some time to do it right.

The "Journalism Style" Talk - Mission Statement

I have been spending a lot of time on Facebook, but I still post things over here (and will be doing even more soon!). I'm going to start parking several posts about my writing and online work for reference. For example, when I am about to write something I plan to link back to many times, like the cussing talk.  I have recently responded to many remarks about my style and my approach. I'm going to explain myself one more time, and try to say it all in one place. Not just for the people who are new to my feed, but for myself.

Let this suffice as my future mission statement and an explanation for why I write the way that I do.

I'm direct. I don't apologize, and I'm not going to start. It's how I am in real life, and it's going to be how I am online as well. There are enough perky blond fluffballs and serious old white men telling the news in the same polished tone of voice. I'm over it. I'm going to say it in my voice, and those who don't like it can simply tune in to a channel they prefer. I don't feel that it's my job to make information palatable or comfortable, and I'm relieved at how many responded positively to this. We're adults. Let's just fish out the facts first, then decide how we feel about them. When I write about my feelings - and I will - I will write it separately and make a point to better separate the two. My Facebook is where I write my thoughts. My articles are where I publish my findings. Those two have mingled poorly in the past when I have written about my thoughts and it be confused with my factual writing. This is one of many things I have noted and will correct.

I am not going to sugarcoat or sell anyone on what I do. Those who like it have stuck around, those who do not have moved on, and that's how it should be. I'm really happy to see how many have stuck around. I sorely miss some of those who have left, but I respect their decision.

Unlike the people I have been writing about lately, I want to point out that I work completely in public view. I don't hide what I do, and you are here to see every triumph and every mistake. I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but this is the thing I am most proud of, for The Bon Project and for myself. It takes all the nerve I can muster to work in front of friends and readers I don't want to disappoint and critics I can never please all at the same time, and I've done okay so far. It has kept me honest and diligent and I like that. I believe in transparency, period.  I'm proactively living up to my ideals by putting my future career on the line. I walk an unconventional path and I wouldn't have it any other way. I've been rewarded with a lot of trust and love, and smacked with a lot of criticism. I've listened to both very carefully and I implement aspects of both. I do not chase approval, but I can tell when I've rightly been called out and I do my best to take that to heart.

The people who don't like my methods regarding GO:61 have to at least admit I have taken full responsibility of my every action, which is something they cannot say. I was bold, I asked questions, then I demanded answers when nothing added up. I don't feel it's my job to make them comfortable for failing to provide information they are legally obligated to provide or operate in such a way that their purpose and results are clear. Those who disagree have said their piece and were not censored. Unlike councilman Justin Burnett, I have left the entire record stand on my Facebook feed for public scrutiny. I have taken ownership of my words, and I stand behind every single one. When I made a statement I provided the evidence or full train of logic for comment. I did my homework, and thanks to tips and public support I got many leads to check out. That was a first for me, and it changed everything.

As I'm rather fond of pointing out, I'm an acquired taste. I'm not for everyone. However, I do promise to be myself at all times. I have been myself all along, as my friends can attest. My rage is real, when I'm angry. My sadness is deeply felt, when I write about some of the things we want to pretend don't exist. My happiness is genuine when I get to report something that tells us the world is doing something right. I do not get paid for my coverage of local events. I pay out of pocket for all of my costs, including upcoming Sunshine Law requests. If I ever write for conventional press, my editor will have a lot of say in what I write and how. This may be the only time I may ever truly own my voice. I'm going to use it for the ideals I support, and I'm not going to try to sound like everyone else. I'm going to write millions of words in my life. I want to come back to here and remember these days, when I worked full-time and was in school, not sleeping because there was one more thing to look up. This was when I fell in love with what I do and decided to go about it my own way. The flirtation became the lifelong commitment. Journalism, I love you, even when you're an asshole or make me get up before sunrise on my day off.

On a serious note, I'm not going to always write what people want to hear. Or get to write what I want to say. Sometimes I have to write the truth even when it sucks, and the work isn't very fun. But I get so many messages from people saying thank you for researching an issue, or for giving them the words they wanted to frame their own thoughts, that makes it worth it every time. I keep them all, and when I need to read some comfort I bring out the praise. When I worry I may be going down a path I don't like, I read my criticism and remember how the people who don't appreciate my particular style view me. It helps me be aware of what I can do better, and I feel like I can focus more on getting it right.

I've learned SO MUCH during this process. I had a lot of help and folks who helped me think things through, and this has given me insight I can use for the rest of my life. No classroom could prepare a person for the things I've seen.  One story at a time, I am going to find issues that matter, that affect people, and I am going to stick with it until it's done. I enjoy the narrow focus that lets me really work best. Even if there is no conclusion to be made, I will at least fully prepare and publish my work and have thoroughly checked it out. That's my mission. When there is an issue that nobody else will cover or want to dive into, let that be my groundwork. Let me learn from these so I can complete my education and do a good job going forward. When this wraps up and I take on my next project, I have a long list of things to do to help me do this better. If I had to boil this down to one lesson, I'll say this experience has taught me to ask every single question no matter how simple it might seem.

The thing that makes me the person I am has to add a few conditions. God help the person I catch harming another, because I will not hold back. I will have no mercy for the cruel or the people who take advantage of the helpless or the gullible. I will look down every path, even when I don't want to, and record my findings objectively and thoroughly. Then I will ponder what I find. Then I'm going to say what I think about it, evenif I don't like where the investigation has taken me, and whatever heat I take is not going to stop me. I will do all of those things every single time. Those who choose to disagree with my analysis are welcome to do so, but I hope my fact finding and sharing of resources also shows my dedication by letting people look at my work and grade it. Whatever path this takes me down, I will go gratefully and happily.

If you can take an occasional jag of cat pictures and an occasional (and by occasional I mean frequent) F bombs, I hope we can have a good time here on social media while I write what I feel compelled to say. But if you can't, I understand, and I wish you well on your journey.

2015 Resolutions

I'm really going to miss 2014. As with any year, there were some ups and downs, but it was an exciting year. I grew a lot and I learned so much. Before I start on my 2015 resolutions, I have to report how I did with my 2014 goals.

1. Get published through two different publishers for the first time. Done, actually doubled. I'd like to brag but in reality it was just luck. I met some people who made referrals, and the next thing I knew I have steady business. Bonuses were picking up repeat gigs at one publication, getting a treasured "request for article" email, I got on an editor's short list and had the same article run in two different newspapers. Saving the best for last, I scored the front page above the fold on Unite Publication's November issue, and I had no idea that was coming.
2. Perform two significant good or kind deeds per month. Done, but just barely. I usually get a jump start on these because they're my favorites, but this year wore me out. I met my goal but I did not exceed it. Whenever I got a chance to do some good, I took the opportunity. It's a good habit to build, and trains you to look for the chance to make someone have a better day. From that mindset, you can do great things.
3. Lose 25 pounds. Nope. Because nope. Moving that to 2015 goals, and putting it at the top. I do not like to fail.
4. Go into a cave, start with a safe one and work into two more challenging caves. No, but with reason. I developed a breathing issue and I can't always keep my breath. Add to that the fact that my claustrophobia manifests itself as a fear of not being able to breathe, I purposely took this one off the list until further notice. If they get my breathing issues under control I promise I'll get started. Otherwise, forget about it.
5. Geocache and find treasures. Yes! I did the one at the Springfield Art Museum and a couple of small follow-ups. It was a blast, and I'll do it again just for the fun of it.
6. Perform one magnificent and completely anonymous good deed. Oh hells yes I did. I found someone who had no reason to know I could help them. I did, and then sat back and watched that amazing person take it and grow it into something even bigger, and benefit even more people who needed a boost. It may be one of the most rewarding exercises in my life, because I got to see the deliberation and work of good people turn something ugly into something beautiful.

So not great, I missed a few. But I did okay. The lessons I learned this year are:

• The value of pacing yourself. I tend to do whatever I'm doing with all of my energy, all of the time, until I fall down flat and sleep. It's a romantic notion, but in school and planning / executing a writing career it isn't always practical. I'm purposely acquiring a value for the baby steps approach. For some projects, it is the only way to succeed. I need to call times to rest and decompress and in the end know it's more efficient, even if short term it's tempting to try to do it all at once.
• Be nicer to myself. I wore myself out this year. I'm no spring chicken anymore. I need to be aware that my limitations are shifting in some places, and I need to factor that into my goal setting. I want to be aggressive in my goals but in the end I want to accomplish what I set out to do. A couple of private resolutions really pushed me to the limit in 2014.
• Exercise and rest must be a priority. When I'm busy or stressed, these are the first two things to go out the window. No more. It cannot be acceptable any longer. And this is going to be hard as hell, because I despise the entire notion of exercising and working out, but it is necessary for a long and happy life. And I want one of those.
• There's nothing wrong with a phase in life in which you focus on yourself. I did a lot of neat things, and had a lot of experiences. I think this next year should be quality over quantity on the goal setting. There are a few select things I need to do, and do well, and that means I'm going to have to find where to put my energy and budget it well.

With that said, to apply my lessons and prepare for the next year:

1. Eat better and find two long-term exercise solutions that I enjoy. Ideally, one strengthening and one endurance building, but I'll take whatever I can get. I'm going to try all kinds of new activities, and honestly measure my success. This includes a monthly weigh-in. Now, no freaking way am I writing how much I weigh. However, I will "golf score" myself and on the first of each month I will tell where I am at. January is 0, so I have a whole month to work before I have to tell how it's going. This makes me accountable, and gives people like me a realistic look at how it is going from sedentary to moderately active. It's not all going to be pretty. This will include the goal of losing 30 pounds. That seems like a reasonable goal, even though I know it's going to get harder towards the end of the year. Still, I want to set an aggressive yet attainable goal and this seems fair. Make better food choices 75% of the time and apply moderation, a concept with which I struggle greatly.
2. Focus on myself and learn how to listen to myself. I need to prioritize and let some things drop off the radar while I attend to the things that matter, like work and school and family. I am down to 12 hours this semester, and will take 9 per semester and graduate in the spring of 2016. This will allow me to have a life on the side. I can pick my classes so I have one challenging, one medium difficult and one fairly easy class, to spread the work out. I am going to take better care of myself, with diet and exercise and even a meditation of sorts. I'm not going to be selfish, but I am going to invest energy into the next year of school, as my grades will have a big impact on my future. Life is about phases, and this phase is going to be a bit more about me.
3. Patience. I am going to work on my patience. I don't have a lot of it in my nature, and while it may sound like a simple thing I am putting a lot of emphasis on it. I am going to be patient with strangers. With people I love. With myself. With processes that I have planned. In many areas of life, I am going to struggle with this and do my best to know when patience should be applied, and develop the skills and resolve to apply it.
4. All A's. Even in algebra, because I can do it. All A's and no exceptions.
5. Begin work on learning Russian, to be conversational and fluent in three years.
6. Writing? There's a few here.
   1. Three new publications. Fiction, nonfiction, grocery list, whatever. Three new places that have never run my stuff before in any form.
   2. Focus on journalism and do 24 articles on local focus for Examiner.com. Apply for one additional news category with them and expand my market.
   3. Focus on fiction and write one short story per quarter, and start querying publications.
   4. Two queries to any completely new publication per month.
   5. Wrap up the essay project and deliver it by June. This is because the Daylight Man should be ready to start writing while I get this one out and going, if I can time it just right. It's technically done in draft, but there's a lot of polishing to do, and arranging cover art, distribution, etc. So there's a lot of work to be done. Getting it out in my hands in paperback form will be sufficient, but if I rock it out having it done by the end of summer would be fantastic.
   6. Two blog posts per month the entire year. No restrictions.
7. Perform one magnificent and completely anonymous good deed. Okay, you can have two. But seriously, when that chance appears, see it, do what needs to be done and never let anyone know you did a thing. It's just such a great feeling, and just one… right? Okay, maybe two if the opportunities present themselves.

So there are my goals. I'm taking it easy this year and putting my work into myself. I need it, and I need to take these years and make them count because they will determine the rest of my working life. I'm not just out for an education, I'm out to conquer the world. I have established my goals and made my plans, but the execution stage is the hardest. I'm right in the middle of that, and I won't be of any help to anyone ever if I drown and become a failure.
Regular updates, and more bog posts to come. I meant it when I said 2014 I was setting up the dominoes and in 2015 you'd see them start falling into place.

My One Shot Bucket List

Most people don't spend a lot of time thinking about dying, and writing a bucket list has become a socially acceptable way to acknowlede that our time is limited and we need to make it count.  Some make a huge list and others make intricate plans.  There is no right or wrong in making a bucket list. Each one should be as unique as the person writing it.

After a great deal of consideration, I decided to pick just one item from all my wishes.  One thing that I would carefully plan, and turn into the adventure of a lifetime.  I knew immediately it would be traveling to somewhere. But what destination did I need to see to make my life whole?  Considering I've had some pretty spiffy adventures thus far, this would take some thought.  I've spent fifteen years with my husband and we have toured most of the country.  I've logged thousands of miles by train and enjoyed the road less traveled.  As a couple we have our own to-do wish list that is independent of my single bucket list item.  But we are all individuals, and I think everybody should get one freebie that is selfish and all their own.

I tried to think about what was missing from my life, and came up short.  I have great friends.  I love my job.  I'm doing what I want with my life.  What else could a girl want?  Then it all came together in the perfect storm.  The answer to my life's greatest adventure was hidden in... homework.

In the first week of October, I had an assignment in journalism class that was particularly tough.  It was a great piece on Roger Ebert that ran in Esquire on February 16, 2010.  The article was very well written, and a great example of how to work detail into a feature.  But aside from the technical lesson I was taken in by Ebert, a man I had grown up with but didn't know at all.  This great, brilliant mind who just happened to be a popular film critic.  Ebert's quotes and approach to life and death were mind-bending. He spoke of the afterlife almost casually, having already accepted the fact that he would be there soon.

"What I am grateful for is the gift of intelligence, and for life, love, wonder, and laughter. You can’t say it wasn’t interesting. My lifetime’s memories are what I have brought home from the trip."

That is exactly how I want to think of my life.  Ebert was an atheist, so we differ in that regard.  However, if I had to sum up the meaning of life, this is the best definition I've ever read.  And it came from someone I had grossly underestimated as the "thumbs up" guy.  Our life is some kind of special chapter in the unfolding of the universe.  Our memories are our reward, even the ones we might not choose to recall.  I want the photo album of my life to be full of greatness.  Not all trips and adventures, but moments of grace, reflection, and plenty of humble reminders that ultimately shaped me.

This confirmed that I wanted to go on a trip, but one that had to be personal, a journey that would suit me and be worthy of the top (and only) slot.  Then another homework assignment gave me the final piece.  My anthropology class had a long-running assignment in which you contributed different videos and articles that were related to the content.  I had just watched The Human Family Tree, an awesome documentary that takes a look into how DNA can tell you not just who your ancestors were, but where they have been at certain times.  Through recorded patterns, scientists can tell how anyone's ancestors originally worked their way from the cradle of civilization to their current location.  I gave the documentary a quick skim to update my notes and share it with the class when a perfect storm of ideas came together.

I love to write.  I love history.  I love culture.  It suddenly became so clear: I should have a DNA analysis performed, and take my bucket list trip to the oldest or most compelling place I find, and write about it.  And depending on what I discover, work in more if I can.  What would be cooler than standing on a piece of land and knowing that thousands of years ago, someone who shared your blood had done the same?  The only thing that could possibly top that is the research that will help me decide the significance of the data and weigh the possible destinations.

It all starts with the first step: the DNA test.  I know Ancestry.com has one, but I want to do some checking and see if any are even better at giving me the particular breakdown I seek.  By the end of 2014, I plan to have taken the test (the results may take a while, I have no idea how these things work).  Then I'll share it and start trying to map out the possibilities.

It really is a small world.  I want to go back as far as I can, find the earliest or most unique land of my family's history, and go there.  I want to look around and know that I wasn't here by accident.  I used technology and skill and intelligence to come find my roots.  I want to look at a landmark, and having checked history and climate records, know how it would have looked to someone who shares a direct link with me.  Though they'll never know it, I would like to think my ancestors would find it amazing that I came looking for them, and succeeded.  I also want to write something special, and just for myself.  I don't mind sharing the whole story (note the new Bucket List tag) but this may be the only thing that I am really writing out for the pure and selfish joy of doing what I want.  I'm not trying to sell it, I'm not trying to please an editor.  I want to record my big adventure and do it justice.

So there it is.  My bucket list.  It will be a great journey of discovery and research, one great destination where I get to appreciate what I've studied, and a chance to write something special.  I'm not out for a luxurious and pampered experience. I'm going to apply the things I love most and see where the science takes me.

If you like, you are welcome to come along for the ride.

Womanhood In A Nutshell

It's not being dramatic to say American women are in terrible circumstances.  To those who believe differently, before you scoff please read this through.  All in one sitting, read this through and realize that your mothers, sisters, daughters, aunts and wives are affected by everything below.  Half the country abides by what is written below.  No woman is safe, and that fundamental understanding is truly what separates us from the boys.  Men don't have to worry about a lot of the things women do, and while that street goes both ways the purpose of this article is to shed a little light on what the women in your life have to think about.  Every single day.

1. One in six will be the victim of sexual assault.  According to RAINN (Rape Abuse and Incest National Network) 17.7 million women have been the victims of rape.  Do you really think if 17.7 million men were raped, humiliated, scarred and beaten that this would be allowed?  But when it's women, the reactions fall between "well, that's unfortunate" with little emphasis on fixing the problem, to accusations of how the accuser had a hand in their own attack.  Rape doesn't know an age limit or stick to a certain class.  To pretend it's only slutty young girls who don't wear enough clothes implies that mothers, responsible women, good Christian role models don't find themselves being victimized.  It also implies that acting or dressing a certain way incites rape and therefore bears some responsibility in the attack.  That couldn't be farther from the truth. And while we try to spread the message, untold millions of women suffer that fate as the price of our society's ignorance, plain and simple.

But hey, let's say that it did happen to someone you love.  Let's say it does, and they catch the guy, because that's supposed to make everything all better despite the nightmares, and this  happens:

A British man was sentenced to five years in prison for raping an unconscious woman. According to a report from the Hull Daily Mail, it took the jury just over two hours to unanimously conclude that Lee Setford was guilty of raping a woman who was asleep on his couch. But here’s what the judge told him upon sentencing, “I do not regard you as a classic rapist. I do not think you are a general danger to strangers. You are not the type who goes searching for a woman to rape.

In what world is a man found guilty of a violent felony beyond the shadow of a doubt by unanimous vote "not a general danger" to strangers?  Our world.  According to the judge's own words, the woman who was sleeping must have had a role in her attack because this guy was pretty ordinary.  Somehow, he didn't think it was (entirely) the fault of the guy who jumped on her while she was asleep and used her body against her will.  And somehow, not searching for a woman to rape makes him more upstanding than a fellow who just rips the clothes off a woman who is nearby and vulnerable.  There are plenty of cases in the United States of this exact type of thinking in the courts, but I chose a timely example that encompassed so many problems we see again and again.

Because guys... you see these cases and they slide out of your memory.  We don't. And for one in six of us, it's because we know just what that poor woman felt like because we have experienced it for ourselves. I get it, I don't lie awake at night worrying about whatever it is men worry about.  But before you dismiss this as something that doesn't happen, look at the number.  That's more than all the men in the state of Texas, Rhode Island and Georgia combined.  Any other crime that magnitude and frequency would be the shame of law enforcement everywhere, not a topic for debate on whether a low-cut sweater or falling asleep was asking for it.

2. It's a little more serious than "women just can't catch a break."  I grew up in the 1980s, when women were being encouraged to get out in the field and work, partly in response to the Regan-era layoffs and the resulting decay of workplace protections.  Here, in a nutshell, is a woman's career path:

• If you make it through school, in light of the favoritism shown against women with mentors in the field, you graduate and get to work.  You're new and young and will have to answer questions like "how do you plan to juggle kids and your job" because your future has already been forecast.
• If you graduate, you are one of many.  The Wall Street Journal reports more women are graduating than men on a consistent basis.  So yay, women are making progress!  Except we're not.  Because despite our success rate in finishing school, our working lives are not in line with our progress on that front.
• If we have more women graduates who studies show outperform men in school, then why does USA Today report that 16 out of 500 as the most consecutive women to run Fortune 500 companies?  Where are all these bright, hardworking, outperforming and tenacious future leaders getting stuck? VitaminW gives us this this graphic to illustrate why half the graduates only occupy so few of the top jobs in their field.

• Also, getting paid seventy-seven cents on the dollar may also have something to do with it.  It's hard to find incentive to work harder when your best efforts may only get you to equal ground (and that's a mighty big maybe).  Those who contradict the statistic point out that it is a bit skewed because women dominate fields like receptionist, waitress, and other low-paying jobs (despite our increased graduates with associates degrees and higher).  The seventy seven cents part is correct, the mistake is people say it's for "doing the same work."  It's not.  Because women don't get promoted to those high-ranking jobs, and are kept in supporting but low-paying roles, it's still valid to say that we earn that much less across the board.  Because if we were given equal opportunity and held to the same standards and rewarded by the same standards, that number would be zero.
• If you land a decent job and are lucky enough to be able to afford to make a living with just one job, you now have to pay 68% more out of pocket for your health care costs.  As Ruth Bader Ginsburg pointed out, and to the utter shock of the researchers at PolitiFact, that statistic hasn't significantly  changed since 1994.  That's right.  I'm almost forty years old, and every year since I graduated high school, I have had to pay more for basic care and medicines, and told it was only fair because I might become pregnant and tax the system.  My whole life, there's been zero improvement on something necessary to our lives and happiness, and it's not going to change anytime soon.  And now, depending on the whim of others, my rights to healthcare, medicine and perfectly legal procedures can be taken away or restricted. 
• And even if you do make it, you're one of the four percent and you've beaten a string of odds so long that nobody can really believe it, some asshole like Matt Lauer will ask you how you juggle kids and your job, and send you right back to that first job interview you had when you graduated college.  

Add to that being measured by how doable you are instead of how accomplished you are, getting ahead only for one boss to stall your career because of how he feels about women in the workplace, worrying about getting raped or attacked by a stranger who comes on to you and is turned down.  Entire articles are written about the things women have to do differently at all times or risk being attacked, while men go through few if any of those hoops to protect themselves.  Yet we're told we are treated as equals (we aren't) and that our voices are heard (not even close) and that we are valued members of the workforce (who get paid less and charged more for benefits) and that we're being bitchy or somehow wrong if we speak up.  

Long list, huh?  Now realize that if every single one of those problems were to go away, after fifty years of work and dedication and wholehearted attempts at reform... we would just then be on even footing.  Not ahead, not advantaged... even.

We struggle and live under this every single day, while patronizing jackasses tell us to be grateful we live in such a progressive country.  One that will at least give us food stamps after using us for cheap labor and pawns to score political points.

Don't you want more for the women in your life?

Project Pink Samurai Put On Hold

I have always enjoyed interviewing people and getting to know strangers. I'm pretty social by nature as long as I have my solitude after work is over. People don't scare me, though anyone who knows me in real life will confirm that I am a crazy person magnet. Whatever, it makes life interesting. However, as the following story shows, sometimes it makes it a bit too interesting.

Last week, I was going for a walk. This is pretty normal for most people, but not for me. I abhor heat, and I'm not a huge fan of the sun. However, I've been sick for a while and I felt the need to get out and work up a sweat. Keep in mind the nature of my illness made breathing very difficult, and while I am mostly over it, my lungs are still only working at partial capacity. Which is a fancy way to say that ten minutes into my walk, I was huffing and puffing and having serious doubts about whether I could continue. But I did, because I have to start with baby steps and get back to some level of physical fitness. With the help of my trusty cell phone pedometer, I had figured out a route that was exactly two miles long. A few sources I read said running or jogging two miles burned the same number of calories, so I worried about distance but not how long it took me to get there. Because I like quirky names, I called my fitness project Project Pink Samurai, because I wanted to be more graceful, light on my feet, and able to look fabulous. And what, I ask you, could look more fabulous than a pink samurai?

I saw a strange looking fellow by some large shade trees. I wasn't worried, he wasn't making an effort to hide. However, I kept a wary eye on him because I've been attacked before when I was young. More than once, actually. As I closed in on him, I slowed down and caught my breath a little, so I wasn't super weak when I caught up to him. I put my cell phone in my pocket, and freed up my hands just in case. And it's a darned good thing I did. There is no point in recalling the encounter here, word for word. The bottom line is, this man approached me, and I was polite but cautious. However, he became belligerent and threatening, and when I wouldn't keep walking (so he could walk behind me) he became even more threatening. Realizing we were approaching the point of no return, I decided to throw a bluff. Honestly, as a pudgy broad who had zero strength left, it was my only gamble. It worked. He took off, and when I pulled my phone out and called my husband, he trotted off quickly (I assume he thought I was calling the police). To prove to myself that I did have control over things, I walked home under my own power, despite my husband's pleas to let him come pick me up. I felt shaky and awful and sick, and I was desperate to feel like I hadn't just been reduced to a puddle of fear. But I had. Don't let my bravado confuse you for even a second. I was terrified.

I told a coworker about my walking pattern and the way I had learned to protect myself. By choosing an open, flat course I didn't allow anyone the opportunity to sneak up on me. By cleverly pretending to be texting, I had my cell phone's "selfie cam" on and was actually peeking over my shoulder discreetly to make sure I knew who was around me. I do not like to offend people, but neither do I allow anyone to linger behind me. Whether it's a family of four or a lone male, I step aside and allow them to pass. After listening, my thoughtful and sweet coworker said, "Wow, I never thought about what a woman has to go through while walking." I wanted to hug him. If only more people could realize this. So, for your consideration, I offer a few things to think about.

• Do not be offended if a woman steps aside to let you pass. She's not being rude, she is doing what it takes to feel secure. In all the times this has happened, the decent guys have never said a word, and in fact made a show of staying a safe distance away so I did not feel crowded. It's not personal, don't make it personal. Ladies, don't be afraid to let someone pass. Many attackers will take advantage of a woman's tendency to fear being rude, and will use that to get in as close as possible.
• When getting into shape, while it may feel good to wear yourself out, keep in mind that also makes you weak in case of attack. If any kind of potentially dangerous situation is ahead, stop for a second. Pretend you're checking your pulse, pretend you are checking your texts, do whatever it takes to have that reserve of energy just in case you need it.
• Always carry something you can use to defend yourself, no matter how close to home you are. Even if it's just a dinky can of pepper spray, or in my case a plastic device that makes your punches hurt like hell, have something. And if you feel you need to take it out, don't do so with fear. Be angry, and never show fear regardless of how you actually feel. Chances are an attacker will consider moving on to an easier target. I could see my house for the majority of my walk. It wouldn't have done me a damned bit of good if he had decided to attack me.
• Don't let the attacker move on to an easier target. Call the police and report anything suspicious. By doing so you are helping save the next potential victim who will be coming along. They may not be as prepared as you are.

As for me, I will take advantage of my employer's gym, where I at least know the crazies surrounding me. Stay safe, and I'll see you next time.

 
Bon

The Cussing Talk

I often get messages that discuss my salty language.  Some are aggressive, others are offended, and the rest are just plain curious.  Why do you talk the way you do?  Can't you stop using those words?  Don't you know how people perceive you when you speak like that?  Most of those people get short, perfunctory answers.  However, someone rather close to me decided to say something, and I had to take some time to think of a reply.  It wasn't because I was upset or angry, it was because this person is important enough to me that I believed they deserved not only an answer, but an explanation.  It was time to write one, and why not write one that would be available to anyone who asked?  Instead of writing a monthly Facebook post stating what I think, now I can just send them a link to this post.

So for anyone who questions me hereafter, this is why I use the words I do.

I grew up in a rural town, where the phrase "she wouldn't say shit if she had a mouthful" was a compliment.  Ladies always did this, ladies never did that, blah blah.  I decided at a young age, not this kid.  As an adult, I realized I am a lady, and if I cuss and speak openly, then ladies do in fact cuss and speak openly.  I get to define lady, because I am one.  The day I realized that was one of the most liberating moments of my life.

It took me a lot of years to figure out who I am, to myself and to other people.  To some I'm the worst person to ever exist.  Other people find me delightful, and frankly I agree with those guys.  But for better or worse, I do finally know myself, like myself and understand myself.  I am not going to be shamed or socially coerced into talking a certain way, and I am not going to be forced through pointless social hoops to make someone else feel better about something that never mattered in the first place.  I am who I am, without apologies or remorse.  If my salty language or other personality traits close some doors in life, they will open others.  And those are the doors I was ultimately meant to pass through.  If reader feedback is any indication, I get ten "thank you for saying what you think without filter" emails for each one asking me to tone down my choice of wording.  If there's one thing with which both my critics and champions can agree, it's that I'm honest.  I mean what I say and I say what I mean. Agree or disagree, one never has to wonder if I'm dodging a bullet or taking the easy way out.

In traditional Bonnie phrasing, I only have so many shits to give about things, and I choose to spend them on the ideas that do matter to me and leave the trivial ones to take care of themselves.

Life is a game you only get to play once.  Win or lose, I am going to play by my terms.  I realize my words are a reflection of my personality.  They are intended to be.  Some will understand, some will not.  I can't help that, and I wouldn't if I could. You either get me or you don't.  But I'm not changing anytime soon, so those who find my writing and ideas to be an acquired taste still have plenty of time.

Why We Should Care About What Happens To The Homeless When They Die

I posted this to my Facebook in response to a recent story "What Happens To The Homeless When They Die?"  I had several people contact me privately and tell me they too knew what it was like, and ask that I share this as much as possible.  My blog seems like a great place to start.

This article upset me because it reminds me how fast we forget those left behind.  We have homeless people in every city of modest size.  People judge them, spit on them, beat them, rob them, or never see them at all.  The fact that people don't know what happens to the homeless when they die shows how removed we are from their circumstances.

Without further ado, here is my Facebook post.  To read the original article that set me off, you can find it here.

When I was 18, I lived in my car for a good while because I had nowhere to go. It was cold and it was awful. Nights last forever when you aren't warm enough, and days are endless when your belly is empty. This experience forever changed my view of the world and the people in it. It's also why I take this story and others like it so seriously. Compared to some, I was still living a life of luxury because I had a car for shelter. But oh, what I would have given for some warm, dry socks.

I am sad beyond words that these people are being thrown away simply because they have nothing. Literally, without any caring or consideration, they are bagged up and disposed of with the same measures used for roadkill. Tell me this is a nation founded on Christian principles, and I'll tell you that you're full of shit. Otherwise, we wouldn't have megachurches with shopping mall lobbies and top notch recording equipment while people freeze to death or suffer from chronic malnutrition.

But the homeless were discarded long before they died. And that's the real problem, isn't it?

We see the homeless as they are right now, dirty, desperate, bitter or lost. We do them the injustice of not knowing or forgetting that they are spelling bee champions, math whizzes, artists, dancers, friends, musicians. They could be mentally ill, they may have suffered a tragedy, they might just not know how to function in this world or some (like I was at the time) could be one break away from making it. They may have kids, they most certainly had parents. Someone might be praying for them right now, hoping that the world is being kind to them. Their relatives may never know that their loved one was found, scraped up, cremated, dumped, perhaps logged into a registry IF anyone ever knew their name. Or they find out that's exactly what happened, and are left to mourn in a field without markers.

So yeah, let's do something about that. Support a shelter, just remind yourselves that there but for the grace of God go we all, give however you see fit or are able. But do something, goddammit. There's a million ways to make a difference in a person's world, and only a few of them require money. A cup of coffee, an understanding ear, or just not being condescending to the less fortunate is a great place to start.

I know what it's like to have life hit you so hard you can't get up right away. I also know the power of a single act of kindness, especially when it comes at just the right moment. I have witnessed how much a good deed is amplified when done in the spirit of goodness. I have spent years hoping that if I ever get a chance, I can be that person for someone else. Twenty years ago, I was one good deed and a stroke of luck from disappearing off the face of the world forever. May I never be too proud or too spoiled to forget what that was like.

So, my beloved friends and readers: if you ever wondered why I delight in showering my friends and family with food just because I can, why I cringe when the wrong person touches me, why I fear being stranded in the cold more than just about anything, why I worry about the animals in the winter, or why I hoard socks like the world is going to run out of them... well, now you know.

A Bittersweet Kitty Story

This was a hard week at our house.  We knew our Diego was getting older, but nothing can prepare you for the moment of loss.  Our hearts broke, and Boo and Jean also grieved for their buddy.  People were so kind in the aftermath it made me cry all over again.  I cannot tell you how many messages and stories I got through my site and Facebook.  My coworkers had a card signed with wonderful things the very next day.  I was overcome with hugs and surprise candy and just people being awesome.  Yes, my heart broke.  But I wouldn't trade our fifteen years with him for anything, not even to avoid that much pain.

RIP Diego, aka Fatbot, Mr. Fancypants and Baby D

A few days after we lost Diego, Boo Boo Louise had to go in to be spayed.  Through an incredible long chain of coincidences, everything went down just right in a perfect storm of karma.  While picking up our Boo, Bart saw two kittens in a small box up front.  They were brother and sister, and are absolutely identical to Cartman and Katy, the ones we lost in 2012 that we miss so much.  The boy is a ginger tabby, and the girl is a tortoiseshell.  Her face is rounder than Katy's, but the markings are so similar it stopped him in his tracks.  He went out to the car and made me come in.  I saw them and asked him if we could have them and he said yes. Right on the spot.  And just like that, we took them.  The vet's office gave them both half-price care for life because we adopted them (and maybe just a little to get the crying crazy cat lady out of their lobby).  

On the car ride home, they were terrified.  We let them out into the den and they immediately began to play.  It's been so long since we had kittens that weren't wild, we forgot just how much fun it can be.  They romped and fell and shook their fat little kitten butts, and we spent all weekend just loving them.  We both cried a few tears, especially when the boy picked up the ball just like Cartman did, and the little girl flopped down on Bart's cheek and snuggled in for sleep.  The resemblance is just uncanny.

Folks, meet Gilligan Cartman Tindle and Lucille Katherine Tindle.  For maximum cuteness, here they are snuggled on Bart's chest for a big nap, with little Gilligan hugging his sister.  They are inseparable, and so full of love.  

Gilligan is a boy in every regard, he runs so fast it is difficult to get a picture of him sitting still.  But if you look closely, in this picture you can see Lucy's handlebar mustache and "frowny eyebrows" that are completely untouched in this photo.

Once I noticed those and Bart got a good look, we can't not see them.  She looks like a ticked off villain at all times.  Heart melted.

So that's our bittersweet kitty story.  We're still sad and mourning, but we could not have passed on this in a million years.  Too many things went right that day for us to say no, and now we have young babies who will be with us for many years to come.

You can bet more pictures are coming soon, but for now I wanted to tell everyone our great news, so we can celebrate the good that came out of the sad.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Denver: Part I

This is the first installment of many in which I will share pictures and stories of our vacation.  We're talking eleven days, 1,200 pictures and over 3,500 miles.  If you had to wait until I got it all written up and edited in one piece, you would be waiting for a very long time.

Denver: Part I

For the first time since our honeymoon, we took a trip.  It was the right time for many reasons. My husband just graduated with his culinary degree (wooooo Bart!).  His career will likely cause us to uproot and move at some point, so this was also an exploratory expedition.  Our mission was to figure out what we liked and didn't like, and why we felt that way so we could talk about where to focus his search.  When he does find a job, it will likely be a while before he gets vacation time we can use to just get away and we had worked really hard the past few years.  So in this perfect storm at the end of a maddening semester, we got the hell out of Dodge.  Ferdinand, our giant sock monkey, accompanied us on the tour. Say hello to Ferdinand!

A musician friend actually liked the phrase Denver by Midnight and riffed an impromptu song.  Taking that theme, we left Springfield at noon and headed to Denver, with that song on the first road trip CD.  We did not make it by midnight (but the song was still terrific).  We made it to Aurora at 2 a.m. and as not-glorious as it sounds, we were totally happy.  The first twelve hour drive wasn't bad.  Our signal was lousy, and we had a lot of talking and catching up to do.  His final weeks of school were hellish, and I was struggling to finish chemistry and write a final term paper that was crazy complicated.  We had missed each other a lot, and it was a great way to transition from  home to a vacation frame of mind.

We rolled into Denver as the sun rose, and had time to kill.  We ate at Pete's Kitchen, and the food was so good it was not to be believed.  I had the short stack and Bart had the omelette.  The food was awesome, the service was great and the place was very casual.  Our bill wasn't quite fifteen dollars, and we were stuffed until afternoon.  The crowd was mostly locals, and gave me my first look at the people of Denver.  I was impressed by the diversity and general cheerfulness.  There were a lot of characters and different types, but they were all friendly and seemed to get along pretty well.  Pictures of Drew Berrymore, Tim Tebow, Merle Haggard and a few other celebrities were all that let you know this wasn't a standard diner.  After breakfast, Bart looked up a friend of his, and I went to the Molly Brown House Museum in downtown Denver while they caught up.

 
 
Molly Brown was famous for being on board the Titanic when it sank.  She was already famous among  those in her circle for being "new money" and outspoken and liberal at a time when women were not allowed the luxury of being either.  The tour of her house was amazing.  Our guide took her time and explained the details of every room, and we got to see how it looked when Margaret (she was not known as Molly until after her death) had it photographed professionally for a high society magazine.  Brown traveled extensively, and was fluent in Russian and several languages, and made a point to visit Egypt at a time when it was incredibly dangerous for any woman to be abroad.  Brown was rich enough to make a desirable hostage, and outspoken enough to anger an anti-feminist society, but nothing stopped her from doing what she wanted, not even pesky criminals.  She brought back several artifacts from Egypt, some of which were on display.  If you ever get to Denver, I cannot recommend this tour enough.  I adored her before I went, but I came away with a greater understanding of how she lived, and how very brave and unique she was. She was a brilliant humanitarian with a strong heart and clear vision, and she wasn't afraid to tell anyone to go to hell or how to get there.

I think the thing that best summarizes Brown and Victorian culture came exactly halfway through the tour.  While going through her sitting room, we were informed that the next room was the most unusual in the house.  The formal room was meant to showcase the family, to flaunt their wealth and show their status.  Brown intentionally thumbed her nose and made it a library, showing her value on education and intelligence instead of material wealth and social hoops.  And what a stunning library it was!  She had classical literature (she apparently liked Greek and Roman mythology) and encyclopedias, maps and history and a surprising number of cookbooks and books on living.  In both the library and formal sitting room there was a piano, the sitting room piano had a large nude statue on it during her entertaining years, which was seriously taboo for the repressed Victorian culture.  She had more education than most women and she had educated herself throughout her years, but she would not be broken or forced to be a traditional lady at the cost of her wit and love for life.  This said so much of her character, and helped me feel what was important to her.  I got to browse her books (many are still originally from her collection) and decided right then that she hit a major criteria for a story I'm writing.  So Molly Brown will take her place alongside Hypatia and other famous women in history in the Daylight Man, and I can't think of a better candidate.  It all ties back to her library, and something I noticed while I stood there.  I like to think she would be honored to have captured my imagination, and proud of how I'll portray her.

Downtown Denver is gorgeous.  There are a lot of cultural differences that define it, and I liked them all.  We primarily stayed around Capitol Hill and the Five Points district, that is where our hotel and friends were located.  The streets were immaculate, and the businesses were just opening for the day.  People were kind and there was a definite small town feeling, despite the huge skyline that was right there.

We also got to see some old friends, and in my case I got to meet some new ones.  The amazing Jarrin and Ruth were welcome sights.  I had not met Ruth until this trip, but Bart swore we had a lot in common.  He had no idea.  She and I bonded immediately, and are both animal lovers and have a lot of the same outlooks on topics.  Her boyfriend Favio was a really nice fellow too, and they showed us all kinds of neat places in town.  We shopped at Capitol Hill Books, and I bought a book by a local author.  I also chatted with an employee, and right there in the store I opened my phone and used Google Docs to write a few lines of My Sister Alice in the store.  Now two of my favorite projects have ties to Denver.

Below is my friend Jarrin with Ferdinand.  I tell you, that sock monkey got around.  Jarrin met us for dinner at Casa Bonita, which is an experience you must have, even as I caution you that the food is canned, the service is lousy and the atmosphere is rushed and hokey.  Still, it must be done and we did it with style.  I worked with Jarrin years ago, and it must not have been too bad since we still keep in touch.  Later, when I told him I felt we had to come back, he was the first person to really get it because he had done the exact same thing already.

The people of Denver were amazing, but I'm not going to lie... the food won us over.  We ate at City Grille, and Bart had the best hamburger of his life.  For a million reasons which will surely be coming in his food review, he swore it was the best hamburger ever.  I ate my first vegan meal at City O' City, and it wasn't bad (I had the spaghetti and not-meatballs, and I recommend that and a  home brewed root beer).  The best food by far was Voodoo Donuts, where we were lucky enough to stumble in early Saturday and had many chances to wander back before leaving. Voodoo is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  And thank God they are, because there was always a line.  They have a great atmosphere, and the donut they designed looks like a voodoo doll.  Mama glares at you from a velvet painting on the wall and makes you stand up straight.  There are several donut choices, but the maple and bacon is divine, and the peach fritter with cream cheese frosting got Bart all the way through Utah.  They have several cereal-dipped, flavored and designed donuts and compared to Springfield's own Hurts Donut I will give Voodoo the award every time, for flavor and value.  They were made on the spot and pink boxes were flying out the door as fast as they could ring 'em up and move 'em out.  When we got ready to leave town, Ferdinand held the box all the way to Las Vegas.

That's the end of the first installment.  There are more stories to tell, but you'll have to wait a few more days while I edit photos.  When all is said and done, there will be albums posted at www.bontindle.com for you as well.

Birthday Reflections

Every year, I write a blog post looking at the past year, taking measure, and setting goals for the year ahead.  This year is no different, except that I have nothing but good news to report for a change.  I'm thirty-eight today.  That's amazing to me.  I can't believe I have lived this long, and for those who know the stupid stuff I've seen and done I bet you're just as surprised.  But I'm here.  And I'm ever so grateful.

As I get older, I am more comfortable with myself.  I still try to identify my flaws and resolve them.  I'm still trying to figure out what the right thing is, and I don't always know what to do next.  But I love my husband, I finally have a job where I am happy on all levels, and my writing has really started to move.  My enemies are few and my problems even more scarce.  For the most part, I live a charmed and satisfying life, and except for winning the lottery I can't think of what I might wish for.

It's been a year of change.  I cut ties with some influences that may have had a great impact on my writing career, but were ultimately not in alignment with my own principles.  I have mostly given up political writing and am working on fiction.  It seems like a long time since anything has come out, but that is because it takes a lot to get the ball rolling with fiction writing.  I have started school and am loving it even while I cuss at homework and cry over math problems.  All of these changes are good, but navigating them has been challenging at times.

I think the single greatest thing of this year has been an overall coming together of past, present and future.  I have finally been able to let go of some people and things that don't belong in my world any longer.  My past is finally fading.  My present is wonderful.  My job and friends and school life makes for a busy time, but I am happy and I feel the love.  After cutting out the toxic friendships of my twenties, I have found healthy relationships that actually make life nice.  It's terrific.  My future is a little slow to piece together, but growing into a beautiful picture.   Bart is about to graduate with his degree in culinary arts, and I am finally grasping the realization that I will someday work in journalism or media.  It's crazy, but we are on the brink of a whole new life, and we have laid the foundation carefully.  I'm very hopeful.

Thank you all for sticking around, and I hope the next year brings us all blessings and growth.

Bon

A Shift In Direction

Life is about change.  There were times I wanted to write different things, and I have enjoyed writing several different lengths in a variety of genres.   I have spent the majority of my effort in writing nonfiction in general, and it has been delightful.  I have learned discipline, gained valuable experience formatting and thinking about both the moment and the big picture when it came to picking and choosing stories.  I was blessed to write for delightful editors who whipped me into shape and then gave me full access and creative freedom.  I hit some heights and did many things that made me proud.  I love all of the work I did, and the people I met while doing so.

However, having said that, I believe it's time for me to primarily go back to fiction writing.  Some editing and writing opportunities have come up, and they are all in fiction.  This is my first love, making things out of nothing.  Meeting characters in my head and getting to know them.  Figuring out why they're talking and what they are really saying.  I enjoy the hell out of political commentary but my roots are here.  It's what it is all about.  And it's time to go big or go home.  I can't split my energies between so many different things, and with a full-time job, school, the resulting homework, following politics, researching history, working on The Daylight Man, writing short stories and doing that little thing I call "sleeping" I find myself a little swamped.

This doesn't mean I will stop writing for Zandar Versus The Stupid.  I've written for him for years and I really enjoy his company and his audience.  A lot of my followers that I have gotten to know over the years hang out there, and I've met a lot of great people through comments that led to online friendships.  That is my nonfiction home and I want to give Zandar my best while we start to gear up for 2016.  There's a lot of work ahead and I want to do my part.  I may occasionally send a piece to a different source, but that's where the vast bulk of my commentary belongs.

The dawning realization of the need for a change in direction came right before something else captured my fancy.  A very talented person had an idea they wanted to share, and it has sparked something amazing.  In a few days of chatting, a firm story has formed and it's currently underway.  It will be out as soon as possible.  I would love for it to be on Amazon by the end of summer, but it's too soon to see just how big this one is going to go.  In the meantime, that is where the bulk of my creative writing is going.  Hang it all, I am in love with these characters and this will be a great transition project.  I'm getting back into that creative place, and it is nice.  I forgot how much fun a little magic could be, and the burden of plausibility has been lightened in this universe.  Anything is possible, and that has been just what I needed to get back in touch with my fiction self.  Thank goodness this person was able to share their ideas effectively, and help me when I was a bit rusty.  Reading is fun, but my God writing is better.  Collaborating has been both fun and challenging, and adds a whole new level of difficulty to the mix.

It's a big deal for me to put the brakes on the nonfiction for a while, but this really does suit me better.  I am no journalist, I am a storyteller.  Or at least, I like to think so.  When I think about my long-term writing career, I envision myself writing novels and making people believe in the people and places that bloom in my head.  I guess I'm just surprised the change in direction crept up on me, because I didn't realize I was there until I had been there a while.  I'm at the final push to making my dream come true.  I've spent five years building a diverse and specific list of accomplishments.  Now it's time to do a few short jumps back into fiction and push for the book.  I'm there.  I'm freaking there.  I'm terrified.  I'm freaking terrified.

The good news is, instead of waiting two years for a book, I'll have something out soon and a book coming out in two years.  This won't slow me down.  It's the door opening, taking me back to that place in my head where anything can happen.  I've missed that place, and I don't know that I can ever make myself leave again.