Tag: mood

Turtles In The Kitchen

December 3, 2022

Turtles in the Kitchen


It had been one of those days.  You know, when you begin to question everything, your brain shouts accusing bits at you and highlights every choice you’ve made since infancy, and your biggest challenge is to find something joyful to think on or something to be grateful for.  

Jillian, Lucas, and Thea to the rescue!

“Mom! Where is Jillian?” cries Thea with a giggle.

“I’m a green turtle!” days Jillian’s muffled voice from under the green bin.  

A simple little rubbermaid bin.  It started life in our house about 14 or 15 years ago as a toy-bin because someone gave it to us with junk in it, a broken handle, and no top.  We sanded the broken plastic and put big toys in it.  At this location (smaller house, so smaller toy room and no space for it), it is our pantry dump bin; usually it contains baggies, extras that need a box like soaps, random cables, an occasional box that’s too big for the shelf, etc.  Since Halloween, it had been used to set everyone’s separate candy/treat buckets inside and had been atop the refrigerator.  This morning I had moved it to the floor with the intention of wiping it out and putting it back in the pantry. 

Instead, it ended up being a turtle shell over Jillian!  

Lucas and Thea were laughing so hard, “look, you can’t see her toes!”  and “Mom!  Jillian’s a turtle with a hard shell!”  And Lucas banged drums on the shell. 

Grandma has a red plastic bin she had just emptied that normally has decorations in it.  

“Mom!” I hear a scream-yell from the kitchen.  

“Look!” Yells Thea as she pulls the red bin over her head, “two turtles!” 

“Two turtles!” Yells Lucas from the other, (Jillian is guiding Thea Turtle around so she doesn’t hit anything as she race-crawls around the kitchen)

Where are they?
Red is Thea
Green is Lucas

I smile at so much fun from imagination and two silly plastic bins.  Thank you God, for imagination!  Thank you God, that you know my heart and send these little angels to make me remember that I just need simplicity to smile.  My mood shifted from fighting my accusing brain to enjoying my children’s joy.  He uses the simple to confound the wise.  In the still small voice.  All of Creation shouts His praise.  A child shall lead them.  All these sayings pound in my brain to drown out the accusations.  

And now the turtles are a “turtle sandwich” to which one of my teenagers said, “mom, that’s something else” and giggled. (Someone has been reading their Biology book.)

Three turtles to the rescue!

Sometimes it’s a pretend turtle in the kitchen that can bring you joy!  Thank you, God, for the blessings you have given us!

Thank you for reading!

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

A Writer’s Character Secret

Writing is an outlet for emotional and logical discussions for me.  When no one wants to talk about what I want to work out in my mind, I write.  I write for relaxation. 

A Writer’s Character Secret

September 21, 2022

Writing is an outlet for emotional and logical discussions for me.  When no one wants to talk about what I want to work out in my mind, I write.  I write for relaxation.  It feels fun, challenging, and often makes me happy to be in my ”book worlds” I have made up. 

For me, my “book worlds” allow me to explore things I can’t in this life.  It’s like dreaming with my eyes open.  I switch from book in progress to book in progress – I am currently working on about 18 titles actively.  My mood in real life decides whom I want to step into in my brain.  I know where each of my characters are in the stories – I know where I left them.  Thus, I reread the last few paragraphs and dive in with whatever comes next. 

Like my teenage self – lots of writing done then.  I started when my father noticed I was “wasting” my school notebooks for stories, and he suggested I type them.  I had a shoebox filled with 3.5”disks containing three or four stories each! 

Imagine:

Her frustrations, emotions, dreams, adventurous spirit, and everything hidden deep within her as she worked her way through these books were laid out in her own stories tapped at a furiously increasing pace in MS Works on her father’s computer saved on a 3.5” disk.  Her first completed story was her take on a true abortion survivor story.  She became her characters.  Her characters acted out and solved the problems she was facing.  She talked and acted her characters and plotlines out while raking, mowing, or gardening in various locations.  She was Erakk.  Fighting to keep his character sound when faced with odd decisions he’d rather avoid.  She was Jordan.  Her desperate heart cry to be understood and learn how to teach bloomed from his soul in what was to become “Web of Deception.”  She was Kelly.  She was the girl struggling to lead and keep everyone together as their tiny band of outcast survivors developed a whole new world of peace and love.  She became Kelly.  The woman who mothers with an understanding she has gained from life and full dependence on Jesus.  She was Kalina.  She boiled with anger and frustration at not being allowed to do the things she desired with every fiber of her being and ended up learning that what she really wanted was only a small step in a journey back to what her elders had advised her to reach for in the first place.  She was Ethan.  An outcast in his own mind searching quietly for a sense of belonging he thinks he can make on his own despite the true reality that those close to him care deeply for him.  She was Jamie.  Facing challenges that feel too far above his age and making choices that defy the expectations of those above him; always choosing the answer of integrity and honor.  She became Philip.  Overcoming challenges in life that happened beyond his control yet bringing everyone along and pushing his family through to success in the end.  She was Jo.  Fiercely defending her sister from evils that trick the heart and destroy those close to her – blinding everyone except her.  She was Jason.  Defending his family from evils that weaseled their way into his family from years of incorrect choices by three generations behind him that build to forcing his father into being possessed into something he isn’t – now he has to choose to believe that the threads he holds onto are his father’s true self and force the evil away. 

The stories continue.  Some are finished.  Some may never be…

A writer puts himself into the shoes of his characters and wriggles his toes around.  We walk lifetimes in their shoes.  We put ourselves in each character we create. 

I always have a character in a book or series that I consider my shadow; sometimes it is the protagonist like Jordan in Web of Deception.  Sometimes it is a supporting character like Philip Duggar in Brantley Station Saga or Kelly in The Devonians. 

Oftentimes there are bits of me in each character.  Strange thoughts…

I know, crazy writer’s brain, but that’s what I feel.  That’s what it’s like to write for me. 

If you stuck through this one, thank you ever so much for reading!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Watching & Analyzing

Watching & Analyzing

April 27, 2019

I’ve always been a watcher.  I watch the world around me and (most of the time) analyze it.  I look at a beautiful blue sky and my mind says “wow, how pretty,” and quickly follows with “it won’t rain for the next few hours.”  (Yes, hours, we live in Florida – if you walk outside and don’t like the weather, go brush your teeth and check again.)

Honestly, I analyze too much.

I shouldn’t catch a glimpse of something and try to analyze it.

In relationships, that is nosy.  See someone and instantly turn on your inner Sherlock Holmes… (Four different cat hairs on her skirt, four cats – her house must be smelly… unless she uses that whatever-name-it-is-I-saw-on-tv multi-cat litter.  Is her purr-fume laced with tuna?)

That just isn’t nice.

In normal life, it can suck out the joy.

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I catch this glance of my angel sleeping.  Instant thought: “My Mom will love this.” Second thought: “She was two months old on Easter Sunday.”  Third thought as I’m sending my mom the picture: “Daddy never saw her.”  Followed quickly by a flood: Daddy didn’t get to hear about Christina flying, Lucas will not remember his Grandfather, they won’t get to learn how amazing Daddy’s brain was – like talking to an educated encyclopedia with an open mind.  He was always listening, always talking, always making connections where we couldn’t see them; always the analyst.

Within two minutes (from the time I took the picture until Mom texted back), my mind had sent my mood from joyful to sorrowful.  From excited about young life to regretting the passing of my Daddy.  I had just rode an emotional roller coaster at work and nothing had changed on my face.

I forced myself to refocus.

Daddy always expected Christina to achieve her dreams – he once told me to “look out, she has your determination and a friendlier world; just you watch what she does!”

Lucas loves watching family videos and listening to stories of his “Santa Boompa” told by his big sisters.

I inherited Daddy’s knack for soaking up knowledge (probably why I can make myself learn any new job rather quickly) and if you want to start me talking… (yes, the girls call it lecturing) enter at your own risk because I’ll make strange connections, see beyond what is easily seen, and read into situations for what “could be.”

I remind myself that we can always shift our focus to the positive, and that’s what Daddy would have wanted.  He didn’t want anyone sad when he left us.  He always wanted the joy, smiles, and laughter that he tried to cultivate.  So, now I’m back to joyful.

Then music runs through my head: “I Choose Joy!” (For King & Country – I love that song!)

Yes, I choose joy.  Everyday.  I pray you do too.

 

Type at you Later…

~Nancy Tart

Wimpy Atlas

Ever feel like everything in the world is raining down on your shoulders and you can’t keep anything up? That was today…

December 20, 2018

Wimpy Atlas

Am I the only one who feels like Atlas with wimpy shoulders sometimes?

Yesterday was a good example:

I got up at 5:30am to work, the guy cancels as I’m just on the road.  Bummer.

Get back home, waste of a half-hour prep and 20 minutes gas and time, but I try to stay positive.  My breathing flared up; can’t lay down to go back to sleep.  Grrrrr… hot tea and honey while I work on my character cards for the 6th in The Devonians – 26 characters in this one because it is set during a community planting season.

I write a program for translating ages – this will make future work easier.   I had my tea.  I hoped I would avoid having to take the allergy pill (discovered a natural antihistamine as I’m allergic to both Benadryl and the emergency inhaler I was supposed to be taking 4 times a day, but I still prefer not to take anything).   I pick up the second ride.  I’ve now made $20.

I chose not to dwell on sad things pinging around the back of my brain.

But when I got home about 11, I was starved.  I made my Shakeology because Louis wasn’t hungry (the kids had already eaten, and I wasn’t going to make a whole breakfast just for me).  Louis took the next call so I could finish eating.  I gathered all my stuff into neat little piles so I could use my tools to guide my story.  Christina needed help on an Algebra problem so I set my Shakeology cup down.

But… (that word NOT in the positive this time!)

As I finished with Christina’s problem *BAM* I turned and knocked the full Shakeology cup over ($3.50 meal – I hate waste)!   *SPLASH* the broken blinds, the window, the lamp, the wall, EVERY ONE of my 26 cards, my hand-written “cheat sheet” I’d created almost a year ago for the Devonians families, and the floor are covered in goo.  Imagine slightly soupy pudding – that’s the consistency of Shakeology + coffee.

Immediately, as quickly as the drops of fluid, everything negative that I was trying to hold back rained down on my brain.

The evening before, Mom got Daddy’s ashes… all that’s left of his body is in two boxes on her table.

Didn’t get to stop by Mom’s on the way home (*thoughts* you are a horrible daughter.)

Didn’t get to snuggle on the couch with Lucas because I was cleaning while he fell asleep (horrible mom.)

Didn’t get to fix my pie or anything to take to the party (horrible guest.)

I had to drive in the morning but only had two calls & the would-be big one canceled (horrible provider.)

Lucas wanted me to play trains… I was busy teaching (again, you never play with him!)

…and on and on and on… my brain just rained down things I wished I could have done differently, things I wanted to do but hadn’t, and things I should have done.

I felt like the world was falling on my shoulders and squishing me flat.

Now I was hungry, it was noon, and the very next call was “make some rice for lunch” because we had one pound of beef in the freezer and “stir-fry would be good.”  All I wanted was to type my frustrations out and make another Shakeology to actually eat.  I wanted to get to my vitamin shake before I went to work at 2. (I was leaving early to stop by my mom’s today!)

I read somewhere that a mother is the Chief Mood Officer in her home.  When I start getting lost in emotion, I remind myself of that.  I turned on Christmas music, started cleaning so I could start rice, and prayed I’d be able to pull my own mood up (and keep the house from growing dark).  My siblings’ party is tomorrow.  I can choose to shift my focus on the positive.  Hopefully it works!

*By the way* I didn’t get my shake until I was on the way to work, my mom wasn’t home when I got to her house, and on… BUT I was working playroom so had brought my Devonians folder and was able to use the 40 “lost” minutes to recreate some of the destroyed cards.  I forced myself to focus on the positive again… this week has been a constant challenge for me.  God.  God is totally in control. (I just need to lean on Him – His shoulders are not weak.)

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

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