Sunday Sunshine


Feeling like your Sundays are the dreaded day before the week begins? Maybe it’s time for a perspective shift! Try thinking of Sundays differently:

-As the chance to plan your week out

-As a day to reflect on the past week

-As a day to take a bit of time for yourself

-As a chance to look at your goals and accomplishment

There are numerous articles on the power of reflection and looking back at what you’ve done, as well as the benefits of planning ahead and taking a few minutes each night to look at the next days goals.

Check out these helpful articles:

11 Ways to Beat the Monday Blues by

4 Ways to Use Sunday to Make Your Upcoming Week Easier by The Financial Diet (a blog which you should totally be following!)

So this Sunday, I’m working on a project I’ve long had on the to-do list– repainting some equipment cases, an act that will help make our business feel more legit as well as improve our pride of ownership.

This Sunday, I’m meal planning for the week. I’m doing the Whole 30 (post coming soon!) challenge and meal planning is a necessity unless I want to turn into a ravenous monster who ends up bailing on my month’s commitment.

This Sunday, I took time out of my day to sit with a cup of coffee and watch my cat. It was great.

This Sunday, I’m going to curl up with a good book at the end of the day to relax.


Word Problems


So I’m attempting to apply for a seasonal job at Anthropologie.  I mean, who wouldn’t want to work there?  I can only imagine that the discount is amazing, and getting a chance at their clothes and merch for cheaper sounds like a win.  Unless I end up spending my entire paycheck and giving it back to the store… But I digress from my blog topic.

Word problems.  I thought I left stuff like that behind in grade school.  Nothing more confusing than when you got a math test and it asked:

If Jack has a three gallon pail of water, and Jill has a two gallon pail of water, how fast will they fall down the hill if the water buckets are half full?

But man, I just took the little intro quiz thing these companies make you do to try and weed out the thieves, stoners, and lazy people, and it was tough.  It wasn’t easy like when I applied to Taco Bell years ago and the questions were “Is it okay to steal?”  I mean, that one is pretty straight forward.  Urban Outfitters ups their game and has you answer from 1 – 10 on an Agree/Disagree scale.

I felt like I was going through a subtle psyc eval the entire time I was taking the quiz.  I’m really curious how the results pop out.  Is there a ratio for giving strong agrees/disagrees vs giving weak responses?  I think I failed some of them, but the questions are a bit tricky.  Most of the questions are two parters– so it’s hard to say if you’re answering for the right part. For instance;

I used to always show up late, but don’t anymore.

If you agree, then you are saying you show up late.  No one wants an employee who rolls in late all the time. So do you say you don’t show up late?  If you disagree too strongly, does it look suspicious?  I’m very anti stealing, and have very strong opinions on it, but is being too disagreeable seem like I’m overcompensating?

It’s very interesting.  I would love to know if anyone out there gets to look at results from “opinion surveys” like this.  Is it like a mini psyc eval? Can you tell a lot about a person by what the answers are?  Or does the computer just spit out a yes or no based on the results?  Can it tell what sort of issues an employer is going to have with an employee?

100 Years Since the Beginning of WWI (1914 – 2014).

This is an amazing blog post, and certainly something to think about.

World War I: Marking 100 Years Since the Beginning of the first World War (1914 – 2014)..

100 years.  To have come so far, and yet to still be so close to it.  Visiting the WWI museum in Kansas City was one of the most surreal experiences.  People don’t often take the time to revisit their history, or truly learn about what paved the way for where they are now, but they should.  I think quiet reflection is in order today.


This is a based on a true story I wrote for a contest called Story Lotto, where a selected group of writers share their stories aloud.

It was love at first sight. Charlie was a bit of a mess, but what boy isn’t a fixer upper? I mean, that’s what young love is all about, right? Looking past a rough exterior at what you know is inside. Our conversations where fairly one sided. He didn’t talk much, but he was deep. You couldn’t find larger, more soulful eyes than Charlie’s. He was a bit on the hairy side, and his personal hygiene left a little to be desired. I mean, what lady really wants a man with no regard for where he takes a dump, but you can’t have everything in life.

I met him at my grandpa’s ranch. He was just one of the many eligible bachelors vying for my attention on that fateful morning. The popular song is a little off, it should really go “My milk bottle brings all the calves to the yard, And they’re like, I’ll be all yours, Mooo, I’ll be all yours.” Incidentally I sang that enough times while helping with the milking that my grandma actually looked up the song.

That was also the end of my singing that song.

I could tell right away that Charlie was something special. He had a tan coat with a big black splotch right on the end of his nose. It was easy to spot him from far away with that giant beak of a nose. And his nose, with its moist skin and tiny peach fuzz hairs; it was on the softest out of all the calves. He would just make your heart melt. When trying to bottle feed he would stick out his giant pink tongue and indiscriminately slobber all over both my hand and the bottle until he found the milk he was looking for.

My summer crush might have come to an early end if I had not convinced my dad to bring Charlie to our farm. By “farm” I mean we kept one cow at a time and had three chickens. Live it up dad. As Charlie grew we became closer. Even though he no longer needed to be bottle fed, I would still slip him some extra grain now and again, and I was the only one who could give that perfect head scratch right on the top of his head where his horns were starting to come in.

As Charlie grew, so did our love. Or, at least I thought it did. Come Spring, he started to change. My mom had talked to me about this sort of thing, but it was still unexpected. He no longer enjoyed the things that brought us together, a gentle head scratch, or a stolen moment before I dashed off to school. Instead he spent his time at the fence bordering the neighbor’s property. While I liked to think he was just pining for the grass on the other side, I had a feeling it was that fat black and white Bessie that drew his eye.

How am I supposed to compete with that? I was skinny tween with pimples and only two legs. She had a glistening coat and a layer of fat to be envied. So I did what any rational, loving person would do in this situation. I held my head up and convinced my dad to lock him up on the far side of the pasture.

I practically skipped home from the bus stop, sure that my love had remembered me at last. I entered the pasture and called to him. His ears perked up, his head turned in my direction. The grass in his mouth fell to the ground. He came running, and it was like a scene out of Baywatch as we ran in slow motion to one another. Only, he didn’t stop running. I stopped, and started to back up, but he kept charging full speed ahead. It was at that moment I realized I had made a terrible mistake.


I don’t remember much after that, only that the giant yellow and green bruise the length of my thigh was a constant reminder of the fickle, fickle nature of men. And that Bessie was a bitch.

Will You Be My Friend?

So I’m looking at some of these ‘writing prompt’ things and many of them have you harken back to school days.  Meh.

One of the things that always sticks with me when I think of some of the friends I’ve had is people’s willingness to share.  When I moved to a new city in 5th grade one of my first friends became so when she gave me a fancy pencil. (You know the kind, they had the lovely wrappers in colorful paper) It was such a strange act that I immediately wanted to be this girl’s friend.  Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest, but the idea of sharing something like that was unbelievable.

Another time I was having a really bad day and a friend gave me their last Oreo.  This was not a guy who was skinny or the sort who shared his Oreo’s to begin with, but to give someone your last Oreo, that’s friendship.  That, to me, is altruism. He got nothing but my thanks and the knowledge that he’d made my lousy day better.  It wasn’t that he’d shared something he had plenty of, or something that he didn’t want; no, he gave up his last Oreo.  Who does that?  Has anyone else out there gotten the last of a dessert because someone else saw that you were sad?


Upside Down

Upside Down

I’m feeling a bit like this puppy at the moment: turned upside down, bewildered, looking up and hoping for a sign that everything is going to be okay.

I just went to the funeral on my step-father-in-law, a man I admired and loved. So much drama surrounding it that I feel my next script will probably be a murder mystery. (Yes, there is a possibility he was poisoned)

I’m behind on the screenwriting I’m trying to do, I haven’t exercised in a week and my anxiety is really starting to kick in, I have too much time with family and not enough time to myself (I need to be alone to re-charge sometimes), and my husband is half a continent away from me.

I need someone to rub my stomach.