Has it really been over a year since I’ve posted a 5TF? Well, duh. Obviously so. I guess that’s what happens when This Girl gets busy and doesn’t blog like she used to.
But I’m also guessing you’ve noticed the uptick in posts this week, yes? If you haven’t, I forgive you. Just hit the “previous posts” button at the top of the page to review what you’ve missed. And stay turned for more. There’s posts already scheduled for the next few days.
Well that’s neither here nor there. Whether I did or didn’t submit posts that you did or didn’t read, let’s move on, shall we?
Speaking of moving . . . Okay, not moving in the permanent, relocation sense, but moving in the literal, body in motion sense . . . Which makes me think of movement. Which makes me think of transportation. Which makes me think of flying. Which reminds me that tomorrow I’ll be flying. Which brings me to my topic for today’s 5TF. See? My own little string theory right there, folks. Glad you were a part of it.
Frankly, My Dear . . .: Five Things Friday: Travel Essentials
Remember last year’s adventures? Remember my beautiful new carry-on suitcase? [You can read about it here: Oh, The Places You’ll Go!]
So, I’m not a seasoned traveler. Yet. I’ve never flown out of the country, or visited terribly big cities more than once or twice in my life. But don’t count me out! I know a thing or two about packing essentials. Especially after the fiasco which was my first flight to Blue Ridge. [Read: And They Say Getting There is Half the Fun . . . ] Hey. Tomorrow’s flight is to Blue Ridge. Huh. You think history could repeat itself? Say a prayer that it doesn’t. Please. A small prayer.
Even the day-trips of the last few years have taught me how to move smart. And now I get to share my experiential wisdom with you. Aren’t y’all a lucky bunch of peacocks? Here’s my list of those don’t-let-’em-out-of-your-sight items you need to keep with you on any trip. [Editor’s Note: the writer assumes your wallet/ID/cell phone are material extensions of your existence, and thus do not recall a separate shout-out for the purposes of this post.]
Ready? Here we go:
Cash. No duh, you say. But I’m not saying “Cash, or cash equivalent.” I like to live with my ATM card. All my transactions, right there, for tax and recording purposes. But there are some places that either don’t take cash (a roadside Farmers Market stand with tantalizing fresh fruits and vegetables) or charge a ridiculous processing fee for using an ATM. Gas station kiosks charge a fee, your bank charges you a fee. Pretty soon you’re out more than five bucks for a one-dollar soda. Carry the cash, in spendable increments.
Beverages. Depending on your mode of transportation, you may need to purchase this after you head out (See No. 1 above). Some services offer free drinks, but some charge. If you’re driving, keeping extra bottles of water and a thermos of coffee in the vehicle. The last thing you want is dry mouth after Doritos and hummus.
Professional essentials. This is the equivalent of a businessman’s briefcase. If you’re a writer, you’ll need either a notepad and pen or a laptop/tablet. If you’re a photographer, camera and lenses. Don’t pack your entire office. Just what you need to get the job done while you’re en route.
Power cords. Don’t laugh. I’ve known a person or two who brought their electronics, but no way to charge them. Even packing them deep in the carry-on luggage isn’t the way to go. Keep the cords in easy access in your laptop bag or at the top of your suitcase. No digging, no draining.
A sweet attitude. Oh, don’t you smirk [did you think I couldn’t tell?]. Let’s be real, traveling isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. There’s squishy strangers, unkempt surroundings, and the occasional “Oops, we should have turned left about thirty-two miles ago” moments. A travel itinerary is a basic plan, but have you ever noticed it’s never delivered on a stone tablet? Go figure. Read the fine print: I guess that means it’s subject to change. Once in a while, you just have to suck it up and change with the changes. It doesn’t happen too often. Count it as an adventure, not a job.
It’s quite possible I’ve had so much to write that I haven’t written a thing. Okay, true story: I (almost) don’t know where the month of March went. I almost feel like the Beatles’ Here, There, and Everywhere. Oh, don’t get me singing. Just give me some sweet tea or coffee and I’ll calm down.
There was a chaotic beginning in March. Projects up in the air, should I do this or quit that? Bless her glorious heart, after a morning out as we’re sometimes prone to do, Mum asks, “Would you like me to come over and help you clean your house?” Now, Bedford Manor isn’t a messy place. Not usually. But let me throw a few words out for ya: Flu. Cats. Media. Work. Any of these pieces fitting together? So when Mum asks, I do the only thing a responsible, caring, independent, adult child could do. I cried and said, “Thank you!”
The next thing you know, the house is clean, the body is healthy, and I’m on my way to Seattle. Seattle, people! The Emerald City! The land of . . . Well, the land of my children. And coffee. And probably the sixth location mystery in the City Series. Yes, that’s already in the brain. Suffice to say, I picked a good locale for the story I need to tell there. But that’s a separate post and about three years away. [You can wait, can’t ya?]
I spent three and half days visiting Dot and her husband, as well as enjoying some of the town. I flew up on a Thursday, took the tram directly into downtown and walked myself up Capitol Hill and into my son in law’s work. Dot joined us shortly after and from then on it was go, go, go. Here’s the part where I profusely thank my daughter for telling me in no uncertain terms, “Get over your love of heels. Don’t wear them here. You won’t survive.” She was right. My Keds barely kept the kicks alive. And I’m pretty sure I burned calories from alien beings, that’s how funky the legs didn’t work after ten hours of this thing called walking.
Anyway, I digress . . .
From different Starbucks (I mean, that’s not a surprise, right? That’s as obvious as eating beignets when I visit New Orleans next year.) to unique cuisine to family time around the TV watching, you guessed it, Frasier on Netflix . . . It was the best non-working vacation I’ve had in years. [Okay, so the Frasier thing didn’t happen until after we visited the Space Needle gift shop and a saw a mug that said “Good morning, Seattle!” at which point we looked at each other and said “Ohhhhh, yeahhhh” then went home and watched it over popcorn.] [NOTE TO SELF: Get. That. Mug.]
It’s been difficult to narrow down my favorite moments to just five. Actually, I can’t even say these are my top picks. They just happen to be some of my favorite photos. The moments . . . Well, there’s far too many of them for a Five Things Friday post.
In any event, these are my five favorite Instagrammable moments:
Nippers and I frequented the Willy Wonka of coffee places, the Starbucks Roastery. Here we are enjoying a hot chocolate made with real melted chips, not syrup, and a tiramisu topped with chocolate shavings. I might have been a little Type-A for a few hours after indulging . . .
Nippers at the Roastery
This amazing view of Mt. Rainier from the rooftop. This photo doesn’t do it justice. The beauty of the snow above the green above the city . . . And let’s be real: It’s name is Rainier. For my NOLA Swarm, you’ll know exactly why that excites me. Am I right?
Mt. Rainier from the Rooftop
Honey! Dot and I bought a handful of honey sticks from the Farmers market. These naturally sweet treats are good on their own, but we also love adding them to our hot teas. I bought the variety pack – like This Social Media Ninja Bee could pass up that opportunity.
Honey! This Social Bee’s favorite tea sweetener.
Seriously, potato pizza. Serious Pie, from renowned Seattle chef Tom Douglas, is a pizzeria with three locations including one in the Roastery. Dot and Her Man treated me to this amazing, I-didn’t-think-I’d-like-it-but-I-LOVED-it potato pizza the first night. The food and service were so good, when they asked where I wanted dinner the second night, I opted for different pizza, same pizzeria. That was not a mistake. And I’d do it again.
Potato Pizza, seriously? Yes. At Serious Pie.
My goodie bag is full of souvenirs from both the Roastery and corporate Starbucks where they work, the honey sticks, and, no shocker here, how could I pass up a book from the huge two-story Barnes & Noble? I couldn’t afford to buy the purse pen from Tiffany & Co. just yet, so I got myself the next best thing. Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote.
Seattle Souvenirs: Coffee, honey, and books.
And since I always love to add a bonus photo or video, here it is. I can’t take credit for this. Ten minutes after arriving at the Roastery I met Cyrus who was kind enough to share his Seattle insights, and noted I came on a good weather day. He then showed me this time-lapse video he took a few days earlier of a storm. I loved the video so much I asked if I could share it and he said yes. He also gave us suggestions of places to visit. I later discovered he’s a real estate agent in Seattle, so of course he has become my Go-To Guy for any touristy ideas I might have. I’m trying to convince him he should start a YouTube channel and share his Seattle. If you agree, drop him a line on his real estate Facebook page. Tell him I sent you. And tell him he needs a YouTube channel.
Well, there you have it. My not-only-top-five for Seattle. What are your favorite travel moments? Share them in the comments.
As always, with some love and a big gulp of sweet tea,
Happy reading.
~Molly Jo
This is my new Samsonite carry-on suitcase. I picked it up last week during Kohl’s super sale.
“Oh, the places you’ll go!”
I was so excited I posted the photo to my NOLA Facebook group. As I started keying in the description, the realization of why this suitcase is so important became clear.
At the store, I thought it was just a nice suitcase, in a nice color. But I didn’t really need it. It wasn’t really necessary.
But once I took Green home, it spoke to me. “I’m never empty. I’m always full of promise. Adventure. A future. Dreams. Success. Something Good. Trust me.””New,” it says. “Look forward, not behind,” it beckons. “Change is good,” it offers. “It’s okay to let go,” it comforts. “I’ll protect,” it promises. It was half price, and I had a 20%-off coupon, plus I received $20 back in Kohl’s Cash. This $240 suitcase cost me less than $90, and it’s already worth the investment.Because it’s an investment in me. In my dreams, hopes, excursions. It makes it okay to think about the future. It tells me there are places out there I’m going to, and it fills me with a sense of adventure. I’m going to soar, and Green is coming with me.
As I write this post, when I first shared the photo on Facebook and Instagram, when I wrapped my hand around the handle and took it off the store shelf, and all the times in between when I think of it, I hear Dr. Seuss telling me “Oh, the places you’ll go!”
I didn’t know how much I needed the promise this suitcase could give. I can’t explain why I’m so full of gratitude and longing and thankfulness and excitement and anticipation and confidence. I just know I am. And it feels marvelous. There’s a world out there waiting for me to embrace it. And I’m on my way.
This is my suitcase. This is my green suitcase. This is the color of my company. My lucky bamboo. Frogs. My writing chair. Lizzie Cat’s eyes. My Narnia room.
Since last weekend, I’ve been working hard on the big writings. My weekly email from Writer’s Digest had inspiration for writing a novel in 90 days. The typical novel runs approximately 70,000 words. So writing 778 words each day will get me there. I have a bigger goal of writing at least 1,000 words each day. For each of two writing projects. Yeah. I’m bit of an overachiever that way.
I’m still adding substance to the first book in The Grenalia Chronicles with Megan. But last summer I’d started a story set in New Orleans, and that’s been my adventure this week. The story drew me back in, and has been flowing out of me with an ease I’ve not experienced lately.
Don’t get me wrong; The Grenalia Chronicles isn’t difficult to write. But there’s something even easier about the NOLA story. And I find it ironic in a beyond-coincidental way, that it’s been so easy to write a big story set in The Big Easy.
It’s been so easy, in fact, that I doubted my own talent. I was nearly certain my beta readers (that is, a tiny group of family and friends) were just placating me with their accolades. Of course Mutti is still my first reader, and she nearly always has wonderful things to say. But she has to. As old as I am, she’s still the Matriarch. She’s still my Mommy. And she still boosts my ego.
Then there’s Darcy. I trust his honesty. But a casual “I really like it” is the same as someone saying “I’m fine” when you ask how they’re doing. It’s a little parochial. Being the occasionally insecure person that I am, I need substance to his reviews. And he knows it. So today, I received this fine note:
“Ok, I don’t think I like reading unfinished works. Now I have to twist and stew while I wait for more. Answers! I need answers!”
The ultimate review came from Dot’s best friend who offered to read my story as a distraction from his summer college courses.
“… this is an incredible start to a story. I really did enjoy it… a very good tale of someone trying to find themselves in a city big enough where no one cares… I like it… Your writing is conversational, and it makes everything more comfortable… PS: My favorite line is ‘And I needed to be unnoticed by strangers.'”
I can’t share what he wrote between those lines, because that would give too much of the story away. I’m pleased that without knowing the plot past the first seven pages, the story is having a Big impact on the readers. Which, in turn, is having a Big impact on me.
It’s easy to doubt myself. To lose sight of the fact that I am not only a writer, but worth reading. Rejection comes in many forms, but the worst is from inside myself. This past week has caused me to stand a little taller, feel a little better about my works. To feel that self-confidence that comes with a job well done. And even if others hadn’t noticed, I’d still be taller. Better. Stronger. Because inward thoughts dictate outward behaviors.
And that’s the first of my Five Things Friday: The Big Easy. Here are the rest:
2. Harry Connick, Jr. has a new album out. Every Man Should Know. I’ve adored HCJ’s music since he first popped onto the scene in the late ’80s. Knowing my love for the man and his music, Darcy blessed me with an iTunes gift card so I could acquire the newest album. This of course was after I died and went to heaven while viewing Harry’s title video.
Just watch and listen:
(For those of you who don’t know, Harry was born in New Orleans.)
3. Jambalaya. I’ll be in my kitchen soon, cooking up a Mojo Original Jambalaya. I’ve never made it before, but I have a shaker of Zatarain’s Creole Seasoning that I love to dash on just about everything. I figure it’s time to use it for it’s intended purpose and make those mouth glands water! There are so many ways to make Jambalaya that I’m pretty sure I can’t mess this up.
4. Last year when I first started my N’Awlins story, I created a Pinterest board. I’ve added ideas, locations, recipes, party goods, and media for inspiration. I’ve been listening to a lot of Jazz and watching movies set in the South to get a feel for the accents, behaviors, settings, and characters. Since it’s likely I won’t make it to The Big Easy before I finish the story, I’m okay with living vicariously through the creative minds of others. Currently, my movies of choice are Double Jeopardy with Tommy Lee Jones and Ashley Judd, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil with Kevin Spacey and John Cusack.
5. To keep me inspired, I created a simple photo collage for my computer background. It’s a compilation of the first online resource materials I collected, as well as the writings I worked on this week. It’s colorful, detailed, yet simple.
NOLA Inspiration
I would love nothing more than to tell you as you read this, I’m enjoying beignets and coffee at Cafe DuMonde. Or even enjoying beignets and coffee from Cafe DuMonde. I know so much about them. Unfortunately, they’ve yet to know about me. Sometimes, soon can’t be soon enough.
It happened again. I couldn’t understand someone on the phone. There was a language barrier. And because I tried to explain I don’t speak their language, they reported to my Boss that I’m “racist”.
In the same week, a local business accused my Boss of training racists because we didn’t stand up for them in what was clearly an issue that didn’t involve us.
It bothered me. It bothered me a lot. It bothered me because I don’t understand why I’m expected to be someone I’m not, and how someone else’s issues have become my responsibility.
I love helping people. I really do. I’m The Girl who feeds the homeless and smiles to make a sad stranger feel better. I can’t write murder-mysteries because I don’t know how to get that gritty. I don’t brag about my Good Deeds because that’s between me and whoever and I don’t do things to earn Worldly Brownie Points.
Yes, I make mistakes. No, I’m not perfect.
I am a Good Person.
And for someone to suggest otherwise is like a cold, steely dagger gutting me. It’s painful. And confusing.
It goes deeper than a personal attack on me. I’ve noticed a tendency of certain types of people to feel “entitled”. There is not one group or ethnicity or culture that does it. Rather, it’s individuals. Just as some people are born with brown eyes or some students grasp math over English. Some people are unable to take responsibility for their own actions, responses, and thought processes.
And because of that, I’ve been labeled “racist”.
I don’t speak a second language. If a phone connection is not very clear, I have a hard time with the conversation. When people mumble, I don’t hear. And I politely say, “I’m sorry; I’m having a hard time understanding you.”
And because of that, I’ve been labeled “racist”.
I’m not hear to argue “If you’re in my country, speak my language”. That only goes so far. When I finally have a passport and money to travel the world, I won’t be able to learn 26 different languages. I’ll try to speak Italian and get past the baroque of the Irish. I’ll carry my Berlitz interpretive dictionaries. I’ll be thankful for the natives who will help me. And I’ll understand when they say they can’t understand me.
But I won’t call them “racist”.
I am a Person. An individual. I do the best I can, and I believe that most others do, too.
I don’t believe any class of people is less important to the World than another. I believe individuals make choices, and at times are unable to make responsible choices.
