Day Sixteen: Trouble

What did I get into trouble the most for?  Geez, I don’t know.  I didn’t get into a lot of trouble.  I remember my dad spanked me for losing one of my grandpa’s gloves.  I know I probably got grumbled at the most for not weeding the garden.  I hated taking care of my sister after she hit the horrible fours, and I hit the obnoxious teens.  I was nine years older.

I don’t remember getting into much trouble.  I was always trying to please my parents.  I was the “good” girl who always wanted the house to be peaceful.  I hated fighting.  I think the thing that drove my mother nuts the most was how picky I was with eating.  I hated onions with a passion, and the parents loved them with a passion.  And really, there are a lot of foods I still hate.  Mushrooms are at the top of the list. In fact, one time I threw up because my mom was determined to make me eat my dinner, which shaggy manes were the vegetable that night.  I am still a picky eater, much to my husband’s annoyance.

Day Fifteen: Not Important

After coming back from about a ten-year bout of writer’s block, one of the pieces of advice I have read over and over is to not let my writing become important.  The moment a writer begins to believe the work has to be meaningful, doubts begin to form.  I find this is the case when I write about the people I love.  I want it to be perfect.  I want to do them justice.  I want an important lesson to be received by my readers.  I am rarely happy with my work.  Many times, I save the piece in a folder and never release it to the world.  It has become too important.

This frustrates me to some extent.  I have a dream of writing a saga.  In fact, I want to write a Nixon Saga.  My family dates back to York, England during the War of the Roses.  My plan is to someday write a series of books taking the family from York all the way to Libby, Montana.  The problem with this project is that it is important to me.  I don’t know that I can do it.  I keep telling myself I need to establish myself as a writer and develop my craft first.  At that point, I will write my opus. 

Another piece I want to write is about four generations of women struggling with mental illness.  Wow, this piece will also be tough because it is so near and dear to my heart.  I also don’t want to hurt people I love.  The work will be fiction, but I will draw a lot from my own experiences.  Definitely a project that will potentially cause writer’s block.  I don’t think I can lie to myself enough to say it isn’t important.  But like the other project, I am waiting to gain more experience writing.

The problem with all the importance is that the idea has wormed its way into my thoughts with my fifth book in Living the Tenets series.  The book has become important.  This will be my last book in the series.  I want it to tie up all the loose strings.  I want the book to be memorable.  I want the book to leave my readers happy with the series.  I want them to be excited for my next series.  As I worked on the novel this past spring; suddenly, the book became important.  Yep, I have writer’s block.

I have done a bunch of things to fix the problem.  I played all summer.  I read books one through four, collecting notes for book five.  I have an outline.  I have read about writer’s block.  I have written other things.  I have gone on a few artist dates.  I have traveled.  I went to a writer’s workshop.  Not a lot has been helping. 

On Sunday, I started a new scene with my character Oddveig.  She is a warrior maiden of the cave trolls.  She will play a vital but small roll in the novel.  Yesterday, I wrote a little over 1,000 words to finish up the scene.  I am excited to be playing again.  I am really excited to get this twenty-year project finished.  Most of all, I am dying to start a new series with the main character Kirzantra.  She is going to be so fun! 

But I digress.  In the weeks to come, I am locking myself in my writing room each morning by ten o’clock.  I can’t leave the room until 1,000 words or more are written.  In fact, I am going to shoot for 2,000.  I have decided not to sign up for the NaNo this year.  I am taking a Writing Sales Copy class and a Webpage Design class this month as well.  I don’t think I will get the 50,000 words I need to win the NaNo.  As Madelle said, I am not really winning anything anyway.  What is the point?  Instead, I will try to announce my word count each day on my facebook writers page: Lisa Nixon-Richard Writer.  If you would like to cheer me on, that would be awesome.  In fact, the encouragement will help the writer’s block I am fighting.

Now, to conquer the day!!!

Day Fourteen: 10 Years in the Future

    

My writing prompt for the day is to write a diary entry dated ten years in the future.  One of the topics at the business class was to project where I wanted my writing business to be in a year, five years, and ten years from now. Frankly, all I can really think about with ten years is that I will be 60. Not a number I like! But here it goes.

    Ten years ago, I went to my first Master Business Class.  I was so nervous and felt like a fraud sitting amongst all those professional writers with their fancy web-sites and huge inventory.  I felt like a fish out of water. I left the class determined to change my business. Of course, I worried whether or not I could change the amount of hours I needed to make the change. My health had deteriorated. I didn’t know if I could change my day that much.

    Through the years, I have had setbacks and
successes.  I now sit in the class with my head held high. I have the fancy web-site.  On my site, I have an inventory of twenty novels. I also have
fifty short stories.  Soon, I will have my first memoir listed for sale. But best of all, I am still writing.

Day Thirteen: Bravely Baring the Past

Stillwater River

Yesterday, one of my readers suggested I write a blog post about bravery, "how it feels to bravely bare your past."  For twenty-four or so hours, I have been thinking about the topic.  In her words, she was saying that I am brave for sharing my life with my readers.  Now, I do have a confession.  The reader is not an ordinary reader who has stumbled upon my blog.  No, she is a beautiful woman who came into my life in first grade.  She knew me as the little girl in the story yesterday.  This woman is my aunt.  And I do think she is a bit biased.

I struggle with giving myself credit, so I laughed when I read her suggestion.  I am not brave.  I just like to tells stories and talk about myself.  Really, I think the word is egotistical.  However, I have always respected my aunt.  Shouldn't I respect her thoughts about me?  I still can't wrap my head around me being brave.  Soldiers who go into battle are brave.  Teenagers who make it through mental illness are brave.  I just tell stories.

I looked up the word bravery in the dictionary: "brave of spirit or conduct; courage; valor."  The second definition caught my eye.  "Showiness; splendor; magnificence."  All definitions come from dictionary.com.  I laughed when I saw showiness.  Yep, that fits.  I keep getting reprimanded by family and friends because I don't give myself enough credit.  At Mass this morning, a friend corrected me when I said I am not where I should be in my writing.  She is right.  I do need to look at my writing differently.

So, back to the original statement in question form, how does it feel to bravely bare your past?  Truly, I am an open book.  The first day I met my son's best friend's mom at a soccer game, I practically told her my life story.  She is more reserved and wondered if I was right in the head.  Luckily she gave me a chance.  She is one of my closest friends now and has seen the good, bad, and ugly in me.  Thus, baring my past is second nature to me.  I don't find it hard at all.  Granted, I do keep some topics off the Internet.  I haven't talked about my battle with food.  I haven't talked about some of the unhealthy relationships in my life.  So, am I really brave?

As I was vacuuming the office today, I thought about how I don't care what people think of me.  To be brave, you have to fear something.  I don't fear my readers judgment. 

In 2004 and 2005, some of my close friends judged the way I handled my husband's deployment to Iraq.  I won't go into the details for this post, but my life was hell for a couple of months while I listened and cared about what they thought of me.  I finally decided they were toxic and I stepped away.

Throughout my adult life, I have been judged by a few close family members.  Again, I won't go into this for this post and maybe never.  I will always hope for better relationships with them.  I try to be sensitive and not talk bad about people on my blog.  But suffice it to say, their judgment cut through my chest, straight into my heart, but I am still standing with my head held high.  Their judgment didn't destroy me.  Thus, I have no fear of other people's judgment.

I don't feel brave when I bare my past.  I will let my readers decide if I have courage.  I do feel blessed to bare my past.  I have a love of writing and a vehicle to spread my words, stories.  I would love to be able to say I teach people, give them food for thought, or brighten their day, touch their day in one form or another.  I will continue to bare my past, brave or not.

Day Twelve: Spoken Up

  As a little girl, my self esteem took years to grow in a school setting.  Being an only child until age nine, I never developed skills in socializing with my peers.  Sure, we had family friends with children.  Mary was three years older then me.  Her cousin Darren that would come to visit was a year younger then me.  Susan was a couple years younger then me and Keith was a year younger.  My friends I always wanted to play with lived in the neighborhood: Shirley, Dale, and Lynn.  Even with all of them, I didn't get to see them often.  When I did, I was very quiet because children were to be seen not heard.  Thus, when I went to school, all the children and their different behaviors overwhelmed me.  I was the awkward little duckling.

  One day, in front of the old Roosevelt School, a group of us played.  I always worried about playing there.  I must have been in first or second grade and believed the ghost stories.  I would look up to the top floor windows expecting to see a ghost child.  Years later, in fifth grade, they opened the second floor for our class.  I still had a solid respect for the possibility of any spirits that may still be around, living on the third floor.

  As we played, a girl come over.  She was special needs.  The kids I was with circled her and began making fun of her.  They called her retarded and such.  Fear and shame spread through me.  I didn't know what to do.  Though I stood outside the circle and watched, I knew we were wrong.  I was wrong.  If the ghosts were watching and judging, I knew Jesus wasn't smiling down on me.

  After a few minutes, I tried to convince people to stop.  No one heard my voice.  I walked away.  That didn't make me feel any better.  I tried to convince myself I wasn't bad because I didn't call her a name.  Deep down, I felt guilt for not trying to stop the episode.  I would like to say in the future I stood up for people.  Sure I did at times, I did for her.  That moment did change me.  However, I didn't stand up for everyone in my path.  I let fear step in my way.

Day Eleven: 2018 Master Business Class

For years, I have wanted to attend an in person class with Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch.  The time and money were always a factor, specifically the time.  As a mom, I find it hard to leave my kiddo.  Time with her is my top priority.  This year, Jerry said I just needed to go.  I am so glad I did.  I have never learned so much in my life in such a short amount of time with the possible exception of medical school at Fort Sam Houston.  I am still overwhelmed.

The class was for writers.  We discussed our Intellectual Properties (IP).  Selling our IPs to publishers and Hollywood.  Leaving our IPs to heirs and needing a Trust for them.  We talked about marketing in all types of markets: table games, Audible, digital, and paper.  The list goes on and on.  I wrote over 50 pages of notes.  Some sessions, I just sat back and listened.  Yes, I plan to go back next year.

The one bit of advise they kept reiterating is that we can't do everything that was discussed in the workshops.  I am thankful they kept saying that or I would be so overwhelmed.  Even without doing everything, my list is huge!!!

This is what I will work on through December and beyond.

1. Write: Finish Pursuing Peace.

2. Discoverability: Take class and build my website for Lisa Nixon Richard.

3. Sales:  Take the sales copy class.

4. Branding: Commission a drawing of a falcon.

5. Sales:  Christmas Fair at the Ranch and December farmers market?

6. IP:  Register License of Novels.

7. Finances:  Visit with Adam about Trusts, Lawyers, Accountants, and C-Corps.

January - December

1. Write:  Send out manuscript to readers and editor.  Start with a short story!

2. Sales:  Rework sales copy, book cover, links on digital, teaser content…

3. Sales:  Helena release party in May.

4. Sales:  Newsletters and mailing lists.

5. Write:  Write first book in the Kirzantra series!!!

6. Education:  Take short story class.

7. Write:  Short stories!!!

8. Sales:  Touch base with Tom for cover art.

Believe it or not, I have left off a ton of other things.  I haven't even touched marketing, social media, and distribution. Uff da!!!

At one point, I began to panic.  How is one person supposed to do it all?  They can't!  However, I am so busy running my daughter around, and I feel I am always going to appointments.  How do I find time for even half of it?  I called home in a bit of a panic.  My dear husband announced that he is taking over picking the daughter up from school.  Some may think this is a small time, but it is huge.  I am so very thankful.  I think I am also going to hire a housekeeper during the school year.  I feel it is a luxury and a bit ridiculous, but my health demands that I rest.  If I want to do more writing hours, things have to adjust.  So, adjust I will.

My writing business will look much different when I attend next year.  Stay tuned.

Day Ten: My Marie

Before I was even born, I know Marie anticipated my birth.  Once I came on the scene, I am sure she stopped either at the hospital or at my first home with my parents in the first days of my life.  I don’t remember those early days. I have a few stories. My parents became really sick with the flu and couldn’t take care of me, a wee babe.  Without any concern of getting sick herself, she came to my rescue. With lots of love, she fed and changed me. When I got sick, she stayed with me.

My other two stories have to do with Marie's car.  I must have been more mobile. For some reason, I went with her from my grandparents house in Plains to Libby.  She wasn’t paying attention to the weather. The window was rolled down in the back seat. I was asleep. We drove into a storm, the type that rains dumps buckets.  All that water rushed down on me. I woke with a scream. She always felt bad for that. I think it is funny. The other time I was in her car, she had just cleaned it to a sparkle.  I have heard she loved to spoil me. Well, with a bag of popcorn in hand, I spilled it all over. She loved telling that story.

When I was three, Mom, Dad, and I moved from Libby to Eureka.  A few years later, Marie moved to Hot Springs. I don’t remember seeing her often.  I am sure I saw her, but the memories are gone. I do remember that I knew she was married to Baptist Lamoose, a Native American from the Flathead Reservation.  I know I met him because I have a vivid picture of him in my young imagination. I truly believed he was a wise chief, or maybe even a medicine man. I always thought of Marie as a wise woman of the tribe.  (I had a really good imagination as a child that I haven’t outgrown.) I still think about them in this light.

As a teenager, I remember them being at a family reunion.  I was in such awe of them both. I was sad when Baptist passed away a few years later.  I never got to know him. I envied one of my cousins. She got to spend time with them during the summer. 

We moved back to Libby in 1983, but I left in 1987 after I graduated. Marie didn’t return to Libby until after I was established in other parts of Montana.  Thus, I didn’t get to see her often; though, I have always felt her presence. I think this is why my imagination ran wild with me as a child. I have never felt parted from her.  She must have some type of magic!

These last few years, I haven’t been able to see Marie enough, but I have been able to see her more and I am so very thankful.  For the last two books I have published, she has been my editor. She has been my biggest fan and cheerleader. We have talked about life, writing, family, and more life.  She helped me with my dad’s passing and my career. I am not sure what I am going to do without her presence here on Earth.

Goodbyes, however, are not necessary.  Will I mourn? Oh, most definitely. Going back home to Libby, will be a little less shiny.  But I know my Marie is with me. I know she will be looking over my shoulder to see what I am up to with the rest of Corrion’s series.  She isn’t going to leave me. For fifty years, I have felt her with me. The feeling will not go away.

So dear Marie, I miss you.  I love you. Don’t forget to give Dad a hug.  And keep being my mentor, now from the other side.

Day Nine: Worth It

Throughout the last seven days, I have wondered about whether this whole potential writing career is worth all the money to come to Vegas and all the stuff I will have to do in the future.  I mean, my life is wonderful. I can volunteer and do anything I want during the day. I am retired. Okay, I can’t fly to Europe or the beach as much as I would like, but I have a good gig going.  Do I want to start working on web-sites, publish six or more items a year as apposed to my one novel a year? Do I want to work with Trusts, Intellectual Properties, and C Corporations? If my books start to sell, this is a lot of work.  Do I want to go from a two to three hour day to a seven to eight hour day? In other words, do I really want to be JK Rowling? Or one of the authors I met this week? I honestly don’t know.

I do know that I can’t imagine not writing.  I can’t stop. It is who I am. I can’t not publish the novels I write.  I read all of them this summer. I love them!!! Sure many days, I think I am the worst writer in the world, but many of the scenes in my first four books are bloody brilliant.  Or like Calder would say, “they are frigid good.” I will take the risk. I will also work at getting some safety nets for me and my heirs. (Again, more about that later.)

With all the emotions that have been assaulting me the last seven days and all the money spent, this workshop has been worth all the ups and downs.  In fact, when I get home, I am going to sign up for next year. Call me crazy, but I am sticking with the journey.

Day Eight: Risks vs. Safety Net

Most definitely, I prefer a safety net over taking risks.  The other day, I talked about my issues with being around people.  I hate going to social events by myself. When Jerry was in Iraq, I skipped a lot of functions.  He has always been my safety net. Going to everything by myself for 17 months was painful. After the first six months, I started picking and choosing what I went to on the social side of life.

Financially, I also need a safety net.  My husband wants to go into the food business when he retires from the military.  I am like a cat with my back arched and hair standing straight up. I have to keep myself peeled off the ceiling when he talks about the project.  I feel so guilty because he is sooo supportive of my writing en devour. The difference is investment. For me it is mainly time. His is money. This scares me to death.

Thankfully, I have taken risks in my life.  I took a risk joining the National Guard by going off to BASIC training after a year of marriage.  The statistics of marriages lasting through this life change are not in the marriages favor. But we did it.  I took a risk leaving Jerry and Michel to finish my degree in Billings while they lived in Wolf Point. By the end of the year and a half, I could almost drive that route in my sleep!!!  Deployments are also a risk, not that we had a choice. But with both of us in the military, we lived risk and survived.

Writing is a risk.  I expose myself to all sorts of critics.  This trip is a huge risk. I am rubbing elbows with professional writers who are so ahead of me in the profession it blows my mind.  In fact, I am a beginning amateur/hobbyist. I have to up my game in a major way to continue to rub elbows with these amazing writers.  My stomach has been in knots almost this entire workshop. Yesterday, my mind began exploding at some of the financial and legal areas they discussed.  At one point, I thought I might not want to continue this journey. I will share more about that in the days to come. I don’t have one scrap of safety net.  Oh, my!

Day Seven: Bring on Monday

Every Monday morning, I open Facebook to see what has been happening in my friends and families life since the last time I checked in to the social platform.  I slide past all the political posts and frankly a lot of the religious posts. I want to see the personal stuff. Anything with a lot of reading or video, I ignore.  My writing is waiting for me. I only have about ten minutes that I will spend, so my attention has to be caught by a interesting turn of phrase, a beautiful picture, or something real, family pictures or personal events.  A lot of Mondays, I see something about how horrible that another Monday has taken the world by storm.

I laugh.

I love Mondays.  Sunday is probably my favorite day because I go to Mass, watch football (well, during the season), and hang out with family.  However, I look forward to Monday every week. I get up at five in the morning. Once Jerry goes to work, I open my computer, sip coffee, and begin my day of writing.  After taking the daughter to school and walking with my partner in crime, a quiet peace blankets the house. My morning pages are done. Now, I get to work on something creative.  I might work on a book cover, an outline, free write, let my characters play, or loop through to clean up a first draft of a scene. Today, I get to learn a mountain of information about the profession of writing. Bring on Monday!!!

Day Six: Lies

Name one thing you have lied to yourself about.  Why did you do this?

Hum, some of these writing prompts are a bit personal for blog posts.  I can think of a number of lies I tell myself that I don’t want the general public to know.  However, being here at this workshop I am finding quit a few lies in this area of my life.

First, I keep telling myself it is okay to be an introvert.  I don’t need to network. I can work from home and never interact with other people.  This is much like when I was a kid and told myself it was no big deal if I wasn’t popular.  Well, networking, knowing people, “popularity,” can be very important. And frankly, I suck at it.

Second, the business side of writing can wait is another lie I tell.  I can finish my first series and start all that stuff later. These two related lies have been my mantra for the last three years.  In reality, I really need an internet presence. I need to get a website up and running. I tried to about four years ago. I had some problems that I couldn’t find answers to.  When my daughter started struggling emotionally, I dropped the website. Last year, I flat out procrastinated and lied to myself. This year, I need to get it done.

Why do I tell myself these lies?  Simple, fear. People make me uncomfortable.  I am afraid of being ignored, rejected, and trivialized.  Instead, I put on a cloak of selfassurance. I have a lot of people fooled.  As for the business side, I fear failure and success. If all I do is write, I can feel I am moving forward with out the stress of the unknown.

Will I succeed in fixing my lies?   The first one is such a struggle. But, I will push myself to try to talk to people and not just listen.  I know I will have a list a mile long of things I can do to grow my writing business after this workshop. First, I will conquer the website.  After that, who knows. I will not tell myself the lies. However, I will also recognize my limits and not beat myself up for going slow with people and business.

Day Five: Faith

What is your favorite work of art?  What do you love about it?

"Favorite" piece of art?  Hello, I just went to the Louvre this past spring.  I couldn't decide my favorite there, let alone everything I have seen in fifty years of living.  I used to work at the Benfranklin's Frame Department in Billings.  I grew to love local artists.  My sister-in-law was an amazing artist.  My favorite of her pieces is hanging in the room with my photography and other pieces of those I love in my life.  In my office, I have a piece my neighbor did for me of a falcon.  I love art.  And really, I have to come up with a favorite piece?  The list is too long for goodness sakes.  However, I realize this is a good topic. 

One of my favorite pieces of art is "Faith" by Patrick Lundquist.  I saw the piece for the first time the summer we moved to Helena.  I told Jerry I wanted it.  Being a great guy, he suggested we buy the piece.  Nope, we didn't have the house for it.  Two years later, we moved.  I was on a mission to find Faith.  We had to drive to Great Falls where we found it at an art store.  Faith has been with us every since in our living room.  All my life, I have felt like I have taken multiple leaps of faith.  I left home to be the first generation college student.  After eight years, I finally graduated.  I leaped into the military.  Twenty years later, I retired.  A lot of people leap into marriage.  Our marriage is going strong at rounding in on thirty years.  We leaped into parenthood and have been working on it for twenty-six years.  My latest leap is writing fantasy novels.  This endeavor is yet to be determined.  In all of my leaps, I have kept God at the center.

Sure, there are other great works that are Christian based that could probably hold the same meaning for me in the area of faith, but this piece also keeps me surrounded by my love of the great outdoors.  And this is why "Faith" is one of my favorite pieces of art.

Day Four: Traveling

The morning went smoothly.  I had no problem getting to the airport in time.  Our little airport is a breeze to get through. No problems there.  They did make me nervous because they needed to de-ice the plane. This put us about twenty minutes behind.  Really, I love that they de-ice. I feel much safer. Unfortunately, I was concerned because I didn’t have much time in Salt Lake City.

The pilot ate up the lost time and we arrived on time.  Being a nervous Nellie, I rushed to my next gate. Instead of coming in at the E gates, we came in at the F gates.  This turned me around a bit. Stupidly in my hurry, I headed done to the first C gates. Airhead, I needed to be in D.  I still got to D7 in plenty of time and reprimanded myself for being nervous. I mean, seriously, this is the fourth time I have flown this year.  I shouldn’t be so blasted concerned.

We landed in Vegas at 9:15 their time which I thought was my time.  At this point, I hadn’t had a cup of coffee. I don’t like to eat in case my stomach goes nuts nor drink coffee to avoid having to go to the bathroom 24/7.  I stopped at the restroom before heading for baggage. Big mistake. When I came out, I followed the wrong group of people. I went to Terminal 3. I needed Terminal 1.  I am happy to say that I was not the only one. I believe they need to fix their signage.

Before I figured out my mistake, I stopped for coffee.  Thank goodness I did. When I chatted with the adorable little grandma worker, I was ready to hear I needed to take a shuttle clear around the entire airport to get to my luggage.  “Oh, Baby, you need to go out door 55. You are at the wrong terminal.” She made me smile, calling me baby. I had a spring in my step feeling young again.

At Terminal 1, I went up the elevator with one of the other misdirected passengers.  We joked about our tour of the airport. I couldn’t find my bag and had to go to the Delta office.  Geez. Next, I had to figure out how in the world to meet up with an Uber driver. I went back to chat with the guy who helped me find the Delta Office.  He sent me up to the second and a half floor in the parking garage.

What a circus!!!  I believe 50 plus people were all standing around waiting for rides.  Cars were everywhere. I punched in all my information into the Uber app.  My first time using this mind you. I watched as Louis was supposedly arriving in the parking lot.  The poor guy had to wait for me to finally call him because I had turned down my volume on my phone.  Airhead strikes again.

The trip to the hotel took a while.  I chatted with Louis a bunch. He is prior army from the Nam era, seventy years old from Louisiana.  He hasn’t lived there since he was a kid, so no accent. He grew up on a farm with six siblings. I enjoyed him so very much.

I didn’t get to have my room keys for quite a while.  Dragging my luggage around, I landed at a Mexican restaurant and ordered a ginger margarita.  Yum. My waitress was a dear. She kept calling me, Love. I have to say, the best part of traveling is meeting such nice people with great customer service.

Day Three: A Lazy Day

What is your favorite way to spend a lazy day?

At first glance, the question sounds easy.  Instant answer, laying on a beach on a warm 80 degree day, listening to the waves crashing and seagulls squawking.  Taking a nap on the beach after combing for seashells.  I love the thought of anything beach.  But, I am only able to get to the beach every couple of years.  Sometimes longer depending on life's demands, well, and my husband and daughter wanting to go other places.

The question should state, what is your favorite way to spend a lazy day at home?  I love to snuggle up in an afghan, the beagle laying on my lap, reading a book.  When I get a little tired of reading, I will take a nap or watch a movie or a television show.  From September to February, watching a football game also makes the list.  This is my go to activity when my body aches from the rheumatoid arthritis or my energy is depleted due to the same condition.

What do you like to do?

Day Two: Frankfurt

Finally, I come to the end of my vacation this past spring break six months ago.  My word have I ever been behind in everything in my life.  I am always amazed at how much the autoimmune disease can slow my life down.  But that is a topic for another day.

Our last day in Germany, our family and my dear cousin's family were all packed and out the door in the morning.  We drove to the train in Kaiserslautern.  What a crazy experience for my poor husband.  Dropping the rental car off was a nightmare.  Todd had to pick him up because it was taking forever.  The two of them almost missed the train.  They jumped on at the last second into a different car then the one we were on.  The train was packed.  We stood for an hour as we rumbled over the countryside.  The second half of the trip we switched trains and were in first class.  Oh, so much better.

After dropping the kids and luggage off at the hotel in the airport, so convenient, the four of us went into Frankfurt.  This was the first time we as couples were able to spend time together.  Usually when Holly and I get together either Todd or Jerry or both are serving our country on a military trip on one sort or other.  I loved the four of hanging out together.  In ways, this was the very best part of the trip.

We walked from the train station to the Frankfurt Cathedral.  I enjoyed the sights and sounds of the city.  I snapped pictures with my phone camera.  I was a little tired of dragging my Canon around. 

The Cathedral was snuggled in among a lot of buildings.  Once inside, I was amazed by a picture a gentleman pointed out.  During WWII every building around the Cathedral had been bombed.  The Cathedral wasn't touched.  Amazing.

Across from the picture, a large piece of art hung.  In the churches and cathedrals I have visited I don't recall ever seeing a depiction of the Assumption of Mary.  This piece took my breath away.  Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit are welcoming Mary into Heaven.  So very beautiful.

A lot of my photos didn't turn out, but some were amazing.  I loved seeing the picture of the Divine Mercy.  We were studying that in my Bible study group.  The old Bibles were also amazing.

Once we finished at the Cathedral, we had an amazing dinner.  I had this black pepper sauce with spaetzle and pork.  Yum!!!

We were reminded of our grandpa, Alton.  

 

The next morning, we flew home.  Germany, I do want to visit again.