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Mother's Day

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Moms!  Everyone has one, maybe more than one.  Some women are lucky enough to be one.  We never appreciate them when or as much as we should and try as we might, we always end up like them, some of us more than others.  Strangely enough there are a few of us who even wish we were more like our mothers. This brings us to Mother's Day, which means different things to different people.  The cynical see it as another commercialized holiday in which gifts and cards are expected.  For some, its one of the few days a year you call or see your mom, willingly or not.  For others, its a chance to spoil mom or be spoiled yourself.  My favorite Mother's Day was when my 3rd grade daughter brought me breakfast in bed.  It consisted of dry toast, a cup of juice and cereal with water (the gallon of milk was too heavy to pour and she didn't want to make a mess for me).  For those of us whose mom's are no longer with us, it is a day to remember all the special things she did for
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LTUE Or Why I Started a Blog

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I have been a writer/story teller longer than I can remember.  My family recalls my stories from as young as 3 years old about things I should have known nothing about (i.e. Easter Island and buffalo).  I took as many creative writing classes in high school and college as my science degree allowed.  When I wasn't saving the world through research, I was writing and still am. At first it was a way to express myself as a kid/teenager then it morphed into a way to entertain my young daughter.  Finally it developed into a passion to share the ideas that formed in my head; to pull out the characters and plots that plagued my waking moments and put them on the page.  I wasn't kidding when I said I hear voices.  Most of the time, it is characters screaming, "PAY ATTENTION TO ME!  You left me dangling in a horrible situation.  Let's find out what happens next." I have two "completed" novels and a handful of short stories.  We won't even count the ra
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Holding Onto The Past

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Last summer my daughter went through her belongings in preparation to start college and move into the dorms.  While digging through boxes, closets, and drawers, she came across her rather larger collection of sketch books in which she had doodled throughout the years.  Immediately she put them all in the “garbage” pile. When I asked her why, the response was, “Everything is so ugly!  I can’t believe I was ever that bad at drawing.”  (M. Hult 2009) I picked up a sketch book at random and flipped through it while glancing up at her wall of current art.  Having no skill at drawing, I could never create something as beautiful as what was in this book and in her mind “garbage”.  Were the pictures on the wall better?  Of course!  Years of classes, books/videos and self discipline had lifted her work to a significantly higher level and will continue to do so.  (M. Hult 2014) I 100% disagreed with her decision to throw away her memories and hard work.  You see my daughter
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