St Augustine, Florida, 2010, 1-Year Anniversary Trip

My husband Matt and I pulled up to the stately white and blue-trimmed Bayfront Westcott Inn and shimmied the car into the curbside parking space, monitored by two shiny black coin meters.
A pleasant middle-aged blonde woman named Joy with a Wallace and Gromit-like accent welcomed us, inviting us into the front entrance and through the hallway to the small dining area that smelled strongly of ammonia and some other unusual cleaning product. She motioned for us to sit down at one of the few white linen-covered square tables. At the one to my left brochures, business cards, and maps were laid out for various restaurants, ghost tours, and local activities. We were briefed on the area, bill total, and breakfast itinerary. I asked how old Wescott Inn was. The main house was built in 1880, though some of the adjacent rooms were constructed just a few years ago.
The sound of cicadas is constant, which adds to the "old South" allure of this historical town. If you sit on the blue wooden deck at one of the many white wicker, glass-covered tables, you will get a nice view of the bay, where we saw a group of dolphins playing that night.
After settling into our room, a cozy space with wood floors, antique armoire, a high, four-poster walnut bed piled high with various-sized pillows, we came down again to the side porch and ate some pimento cheese dip, white cheese spread, and crackers. Then we tromped around St. George street, popping into the Cathedral Basilica. It was quiet and choral music played on the overhead speakers. Shrines to saints were embedded in the walls surrounded by lit candles. Hard wooden pews faced a grand podium area that was roped off from lay persons. Stained glass windows let in muted shades of red, blue, and yellow light. On the way out, holy water dripped in a bowl from a stainless steel font. From there we stopped into a few stores, one of them a weapon's supply place, that contained the biggest selection of swords I had ever seen in my life. As we continued walking, we came to an indoor walkway, full of candy, clothing, and candle shops. One such shop caught our eye. Hickory Ridge Organics, we discovered, is a vegan, organic natural soap and body care store. After smelling a number of yummy aromatherapy soaps, creams, and body sprays, we purchased a jar of French lavender bath salts and eucalyptus and spearmint foot scrub, both made with Dead Sea salts, which we were informed, have 27 different salts, as opposed to the 3 that American sea water contains. We went home that night with about 7 or 8 samples of other soaps, including peppermint, oatmeal, tea tree, almond, sandalwood, etc.
Earlier in the day we sucked on popsicles at "The Hyppo." Matt enjoyed the sweet and spicy mango habenero, while I was refreshed by the mellow lemon cucumber mint flavor. The owner is a laid-back young fellow that has been concocting these unusual frozen treats in his kitchen. His latest creation is called "The Mouth Grenade," a combination of pineapple, mango, chili paste, soy, and cilantro.

Non-inspiration

This is a tribute to non-inspiration. It sings of the unimaginative. In this hollow dullness I wonder if something will come. The wondering itself is blank and motionless. It is like a white wall. A clean-wiped chalkboard. It is like a pseudo-calm, which gives the brain rest from its mode of heightened creativity, that is, when it comes. But these are times when the tide is low and the waves are mere ripples. It is an overcast day without wind, rain, or sun. It is like a dreamless sleep. Its beauty rests in the contrast it gives to those times of ease in spilling out witty and eloquent thoughts onto the page. They gush all over the place. You think you will be able to go on writing this way forever, but then, the silence. It will only last for a little while. The canvas of mediocrity will again attract a color here and a texture there until it becomes a beautiful piece of art. Let's hear it for non-inspiration!

I read a quote in a book that went something like this: "Love is not finding the 'right' person, but rather being the right person."
Lord, how can I be the right person? Teach me to be such. What does this entail? I know it has much to do with selflessness and it has much to do with walking in the Spirit. I want to walk in the Spirit and not give place to the lusts of the flesh. I want to be filled up with love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, and goodness. Wow, what a list!
How can I love Matthew with all of my heart and soul? How can I diligently prepare to be a submissive wife to him and pursue faithfully the "office" of a true companion and lover? I love him and I want to be right for him. I don't want him to begrudge me or secretly hold bitterness because I have failed in some way. What is it that will keep us "glued" together? In the Scriptures it says that charity is the bond of perfectness. What is charity? Or I should just say "love." Love, according to the ESV, is that which is "patient and kind and is not arrogant. It does not insist on its own way and is not rude. It does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth." What is truth? God is truth. His Word is truth. The two great commandments have to do with love and truth. Love the Lord with all of your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself. Man, I seriously have a LONG way to go!
Only by grace can I accomplish this.

Write, Or Else!

It is said often in books on writing that a writer must inevitably write...and that, every day. It is something that must be practiced on a regular basis in order for it to be of any good and for anyone to actually want to read it.
I thought I was pretty good at this expression when I first signed up for my creative writing class at Valencia Community College in the early summer of 2006. I had, after all, stunned my English Comp teacher the previous semester with a paper I'd written entitled "The Truth About Flying." Jill Sebacher, the professor's name, had wanted to submit it to the school paper, the Phoenix, but, unfortunately, it was not accepted. Still, my ego soared high and I walked into the new class feeling confident, cocky, and ready to be recognized as the next great writer of the 21st century.
Reality slapped me in the face so hard that it took weeks to get over the sting of the pain. I stunk.
I spent the next couple of months re-learning how to write, especially creatively. The teacher, like a Marine bootcamp instructor, verbally tore us up and crushed us down, drilling into our heads that a writer must "show" and not "tell." We were challenged about point of view, the absolute necessity of conflict, character development, the individual roles of protagonists, antagonists, static, and block characters. And "don't forget to employ the five senses in your work!" Then one sweet day, after all of the humiliation, we saw the tiny sprout of something good coming out of our pieces. It was a small sign of muscular definition after weeks of torturous exercise.
I learned valuable information in that class. It stretched me. It made me realize that there was so much more to writing than I had ever imagined.
I won't forget what the teacher told us towards the end of the class. "God is going to get you if you don't write."
And so, with that weighty exhortation hanging over my head, I offer you this short rambling.

Andante Espressivo

That's what the top part of the left hand side says of a piano arrangement that I'm working on. I thought about how accurate that Italian term is for the piece. According to one online source, it means, when combining the definition of both: "moderately slow with expression." It works beautifully for the nice even eighth notes that climb up and down the scale in the bass cleft. It's kind of like going on a leisurely walk and taking in everything you see, smell, and hear. Savoring every moment of the experience. In these hectic days we need a little "andante espressivo" in our lives. Stop a moment. Slow down. Look around. Find beauty in God's creation. Take pleasure in the small things. Make the moments count. Tell someone you love them.

Sleepless in Ocoee

My body refused, like an overactive child, to settle down last night. At midnight I finally had shut the lights out and begun to burrow down under the covers. Many people at that time would have been sound asleep, I suppose, some blissfully having entered into that coma-like state, called "REM."
I awoke suddenly, like someone does before jumping out of bed after hitting his snooze button ten times, realizing he's overslept and is late for work. I grabbed my little white digital alarm clock and pressed down hard on the button that turned on the light. I thought sure I would see black-colored numbers, indicating it was 5:00, or thereabouts, illuminated by the dull yellow glow. I groaned at the realization that I'd only slept two hours. I threw my head back onto the pillow. I spent the next few minutes, or hours, it seemed, trying to find the ultimate "sleep well" position.
On my back; on my left side; on my right side; arms up around my ears; left arm up next to my left ear while my right arm is down by my right side; on my stomach. On my side; one leg bent towards my chest; fluff up my pillows; roll one pillow up and put it between my shoulders and my head. It was a veritable nocturnal workout, or should I say warfare. This fight between my desire to sleep and my body's restlessness continued on and on. Until finally, that welcome paralysis; that heaviness. The conquered limbs lay defeated and weary, and I could feel that wonderful haze coming over my mind, gradually, like I'd imagined it must feel like to be anesthetized. Sleep.

Teddy's Inspiring Quote

I was reading through some of my emails from "Quote of the Day" and came across this quote from Teddy Roosevelt:
"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat."
I am very inspired by such a quote. It makes me want to do my best in everything that I do and to keep trying new things, especially those things that I am afraid of , or that I think I cannot do. Of course I must attach "God willing" with everything that I attempt.