​Several years ago, my husband and sons started making their own beer. Over time, the process has grown from a Saturday afternoon event into a bit of an adventure. It began as a shared experiment between father and sons; a time to get together, to try out something new and to share stories the way only men who are more alike than different can do. Recently our son-in-law and soon to be daughter-in-law have joined in the brewing team too. These new characters have made the experience that much richer and even more enjoyable for everyone involved. New beer recipes have been created, a few stolen from the experts, and others borrowed from the prescriptions of long ago. In short, they’re all working together to make memories, stories to tell their children and recollections to hold dear to their hearts when life moves on. Oh, and they are also brewing some pretty fabulous and tasty beer along the way.

Gathering around boiling pots of water, barley, hops, yeast and other “secret” ingredients, the team works together to create some pretty memorable ale. It’s a judgment free zone where everyone is encouraged to just be themselves and have fun. And once the beer has been created, it rests for a while in tubs in our garage while the creators develop unique labels to proudly paste on each capped bottle at just the right time.

And me? I am the proud recorder of all that happens in this tight circle of love. I get to watch, to admire and to share in their life stories as another brew is born and I enjoy a glass of wine. Here’s hoping they’ll learn how to make Pinot Grigio next year!

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Meriam

I’ve heard it said that eyes are the window to the soul, but I’ve always been more of a total face person. I like to see smiles, dimples, scrunched up noses or puffed out cheeks. By getting a look at the total face, I think that it’s a whole heck of lot easier to predict what is going on in a person’s head and how to respond. When I’m creating a character, I never stop at just describing the eyes. I mean… do you?
So, what do you do when the only thing that isn’t covered by a mask is a pair of eyes? Unfortunately, during this pandemic, wearing a mask has become as common as wearing a t-shirt and getting to really “see” the person you are trying to communicate with can be uber challenging.
Lucky for me, I also take a lot of my cues from raised eye brows, crinkled crows feet, squinty eyes and furrowed brows. I’m far more comfortable with smiling eyes, bright eyes and even sleepy eyes than I am with angry or worried eyes.  And it can really throw me off when those eyes are covered by thick or fringy bangs, glasses or the bill of a cap pulled taunt over a forehead. But if you practice real hard and pay close attention, I theorize that a pair of eyes, peeking out from behind a mask, can actually give you some clues to maneuver by. It’s sort of like learning a foreign language and I got a crash course while dropping by Costco the other day. Flashing, angry eyes mean – for your own good -  get as far away as possible, as soon as possible. Sad eyes need a nod of support and happy eyes, well just enjoy those – they may be few and far between these tough days. One other clue to how a stranger might be feeling could be found in the mask they are wearing. I’ve included pictures of a few that I’ve made. How can you not feel happy when wearing something so whimsical?
So until the day comes when we can all greet each other with an upturned smile or a downturned frown, a hug, a giggle or a hoot -  take care, be safe and stay home – then you won’t need to wear a mask!

​ 
 
 
 

LOST AND FOUND AT JUST THE RIGHT TIME

Last night I was what you might call, a frustrated night owl. I flattened the candle, hoping to finish the first draft of my latest book. I worked until my eyes refused to focus and my butt hurt from sitting so long and still I pushed on. Although I was fairly pleased with the results, my story remained sadly incomplete. Oh, I knew the ending I wanted to attain; I just wasn’t sure which road to take to get it there. Somewhere around midnight, I started questioning my sanity, something I do far too often when I’m struggling with my writing. Provocative thoughts like why hadn’t I ever thought of making this book into a series sprang to life. Was it too late? Did I need to start over? Expand my characters? Was this book going to be a thrilling finale, or a brilliant beginning?
And then it happened; I got stuck in my own head and couldn’t get out!  I felt like all of my imaginative juices had inexplicably dried up and I started freaking out. I mean like walking the floors, talking to myself freaking out. I have been working on this one story for such a long time as a seed of an idea finally grew into an actual story with characters, a setting and a plot I really like a lot. So getting stuck now made no sense at all and struggling any further seemed pointless, so I did what every unsure writer does – I went to bed.
The next morning found me in a fog, no closer to finding the clarity I needed to continue and with little desire to get to work. My only option was to strap on my headphones and my tennis shoes and head out for a long walk. Trying to pump a dry well of creativity is futile and adding in fatigue from a restless night just made things worse. Listening to the strains of Vivaldi, my mind blank, I wandered up and down the hills in search of who knew what.  And then I found what I hadn’t realized I’d even been looking for; a trigger of inspiration.
I saw the faded paper sign hanging off an old tree that was a ways off the walking trail and swimming in a sea of ivy and I almost walked right past it. Fortunately, something fateful drew me back to the tall Eucalyptus tree and the modeled piece of white paper tied around its trunk. The words Lost & Found were barely visible, written in faded black marker pen. Some of the letters were transparent, bleached by the sun or washed away by the heavy ocean dew, proof that the announcement had hung there for a while at least. What made the sign even more unusual was the pair of glasses, reading glasses I’d guess, sticking through two paper punched holes, just waiting for a passerby to notice.
At first, I walked away smiling at the strange sight. But my curiosity soon got the better of me and I found myself returning for a second peek. Looking at the tortoise shelled frames, I wondered, had an older gentleman dropped them? They looked like a man’s pair of glasses to me. How was he coping with the loss? Was his wife nagging him to stop complaining and go to the drugstore to pick up another pair or had he silently battled his inability to read without his plastic framed friends? And what lovely person had discovered the glasses and then gone to all the effort to create a sign, attach the glasses and post it where walkers might see?
Within moments my synapses were on fire, creating a scenario for a story I couldn’t wait to get home and write. I was humming with excitement and ready to go. My creativity was back and I silently thanked the angel who had put that sign in my way. It took me another thirty minutes for me to walk home and without even realizing that I had, I created the conclusion for my other book, the one I had been struggling with before my morning walk. Those glasses clarified my options and offered me the vision I needed to complete my story without ever leaving the tree.
I think I’ll take a walk past the Eucalyptus tree tomorrow to see if anyone has claimed the lenses. Or better yet, I think I’ll start chapter two of my next story, The Sightless Stranger about a man who lost his way.
Stay Healthy and Happy!
Meriam

During this whole quarantine thing, I’ve often found myself bored, impatient and maybe even not so nice to be around. I’ve never read so many books, watched so much TV, sent so many heartfelt cards and letters or written so many chapters for my latest book. That last part is actually a surprisingly good thing to come out of the virus.

Anyway, for the good of those around me, I decided I better get out of my own head and crawl inside someone else’s. Yes, reading is definitely a good way to do just that, but I somehow felt compelled to move my body off the couch, out of my writing chair and away from the kitchen table. I needed a new form of distraction that might also have the added side effect of expanding my mind.

While many of you are probably familiar with the eclectic world of podcasting, I was not until recently. I am proud to say that I am now. Almost every morning I have been getting up, lacing up my tennies and plugging into a different world; the podcasting world. I make it a point to choose topics I have no prior knowledge of and sometimes even no interest in. Why? To try to jar my brain back to life and it has turned out pretty well. So much so, that I’m now recommending  it to the rest of the world or at least to my A Slice of Orange blog readers.
My morning walks or podwalks as I have taken to calling them, have turned out to be one of my favorite parts of my day. I’ve learned so many new and different things as I huff and puff through the hills where I live. I discovered the story of the paleontologist who actually coined the word “dinosaur. ” Now I’m not a real dinosaur fan, but this was one interesting and rather sad story of how ego can get in the way of success. I also enjoyed the tale about how the word “vaccine” was birthed. Both pieces were short, attention grabbing and informative stories from the FridayScience podcast; a site I highly recommend.

But wait, there’s more. I tuned through several other podcasts to learn about the fictional character, Dracula, how to make myself ten percent happier, the true meaning of the word imagination, how the brain adapts when learning a foreign language, techniques for taking a dress pattern from size ten to size fourteen, what happens when you have a heart attack and the value of including kale in your daily diet. I also listened to wonderful stories chronicling everything from mysteries to murders.
Not only did I learn a lot of new stuff, I also benefited in a couple of other ways. I found myself extending my walks for longer periods of time because I didn’t want to quit before the podcast was over. I was also introduced to new vocabulary and exciting strategies for expressing an idea—something every writer can benefit from. The word Crepuscular, a large or bulky body type, was just one of  my discoveries and  is sure to be a new character descriptor in my next book.

Okay, I admit there is a lot of weird stuff, out there . The number of programs about interestrial visitors is mind boggling. And some of the podcasts featuring famous murderers did nothing for my scaredy cat issues. The good thing is, with the touch of a finger, I can always flip to another topic. Oh, one more thing. I learned how to create my own podcast. Perhaps this could be my next endeavor?

​Plug in and start your day with your own podwalk. I hope you find it as enjoyable as I have.

Shh! I snuck out to Trader Joe’s yesterday.
I say “snuck out” because I promised all three of my children that I would stay home all day and write.  I agreed with them that since I’m 65, I should stay home, sheltered in place, because that’s what we are all being asked to do where I live. This Corona Virus thing has me good and scared and I completely understand that to stay healthy, it’s best to avoid contact with others. 
It’s not like I don’t have plenty to do. I’m in the middle of writing the next chapter in my book, making a quilt and I have a new found desire to bake. But that’s where my troubles began – I needed eggs and butter. That is, I needed eggs and butter if I was going to stay home for the next two weeks, feed my husband breakfast  and still bake.
I figured that if I ventured out early enough, I might not run into as many people. So I did and I was right. My beach city was quiet, devoid of crowds, bikes and surfboards. I got dressed and was in line by 9:10. The store had opened at 9:00 and there were already about fifteen people in line ahead of me. Kudos to the pleasant Trader Joe’s staff who kept the store well stocked and the line moving. And kudos to the folks in line who, thankfully, approached the whole event with smiles on their faces. We all made a point of not standing too close together and I’m grateful that I heard neither a cough nor a sneeze.
In thirty minutes I was in and out of the store with lots of good stuff, including eggs and butter.  I also left with another unexpected bonus. I met a new character for my book. She is a combination of the three wonderful women who I stood in line with. Total strangers, they shared their good humor as they threw out questions to the crowd like, “How many of you are over sixty and snuck out today?” and comments like, “I won’t tell your kids if you don’t tell mine!” All three were colorful women with infectious smiles who I soon found out were actually as scared as I was to be  out and about when we should have been at home. I took all three home with me in my heart and joyfully morphed them into my new character.
These are challenging times for our world and I do not take lightly the recommendations coming out from the CDC and our local health officials. And I must admit that it will be a while before I need or want to venture out to the market or Trader Joe’s again. But, I am grateful to the staff who continue to work so hard to keep our markets full. I also want to extend a personal hurrah to the medical community who are working so tirelessly to get us all through this crisis. I have a first hand view of it as I watch my daughter, who is a nurse, march off to work to keep her cancer patients safe.
Good health and best wishes for an end to this soon!

​There’s a certain time of the day when the world slows down and you can’t help but wonder.

I experienced one of those times last week as my husband and I walked the beaches at sunset on Marco Island, Florida. As warm breezes gently reorganized the clouds in the sky, pelicans skimmed the waters in search of their dinner and children raced along the shoreline squeezing one last ounce of fun out of the remnants of their day, I wandered and I wondered. Looking up into the sky, it was almost as if someone unexpectedly tapped me on the shoulder and asked me, Hey! Have you done everything that you ever wanted to do, needed to do in this lifetime – and have you done it well?

It’s funny how such a grand sunset can make one feel so small. It’s not like I don’t see sunsets at home all of the time, I do. I live at the beach. But somehow this one felt different. Instead of leaving me with warm and mellow feelings,  this fiery red sky sent out a challenge – Wake up! Live a little more. Laugh a little more. Challenge yourself to try something  new. Be the best person you can be. See the good in others. Stop whining about the petty things. Turn off the  nasty news and read a book instead. Tell your friends and family how much you love them.

Wow! That was some unsettling sunset and the best thing that could have happened to me. It made me stop and think and I felt rejuvenated, convinced that I would not forget all that I had been inspired to do. But by the time I sat in the airport for five hours waiting for a long overdue flight, watched two women get into a weird fight over who was looking at who, got on an airplane where nothing seemed to be working, moved from carousel to carousel in search of my misplaced luggage and finally collapsed in my bed at four a.m., I had forgotten everything.

Until this morning, when I pulled my sunset  picture up on my phone and started remembering. I’ve got the time, energy, health and ability and I have a lot to accomplish  before the sun sets tonight. I think I’ll start with a cup of hazelnut coffee and tell my husband that I love him. The day awaits! 

​I hope you too find an inspiring sunset of your own.

About four years ago I started taking yoga classes. At the age of sixty-one  it was stressful for me to even purchase a pair of those black stretchy pants, let alone find the courage to sign up to attend a class. I was totally freaked out, certain that I was going to make a fool of myself. Thankfully, a friend agreed to take the class with me. Foolishness is so much more tolerable in the company of a friend.

The first thing I’ll tell you is that the teacher makes all the difference in the world. After working full time and walking the halls and playgrounds of an elementary school for ten years, I had the mistaken belief that I was in shape. Wrong!  Sure, I could walk, but could I bend?  My teacher Doreen, assured me that in time and with practice, I could.  She not only taught me, she encouraged me, mentored me and made me believe in myself. She is truly a gift I continue to benefit from every week.

Secondly, I had to learn to leave my ego at the door. Yoga is not easy, especially at first. I was challenged to bend, stretch and move parts of my body that I hadn’t moved in years. And what’s worse, I didn’t realize how stiff and out of whack my body actually was. I quickly had to stop comparing myself to the others in the class, many who were far more accomplished than I could ever hope to be. Instead, I learned to enjoy their encouraging smiles and words of welcome each week. And finally,  I had to learn to pat myself on the back for regularly showing up to class.

Third, my body didn’t always want to do what I wanted it to do. Balancing on one foot is still my least favorite thing to do. Yes, I can now do a plank instead of a plop, but it's still hard to hold the pose for any length of time. It took me a long time to not feel like a downward dope while doing a downward dog. And threading the needle often leaves me feeling knotted up. Yes, I humbly confess to releasing a tiny, embarrassing fart or two at first – I think I’ve got that under control now. Thankfully, no one ever laughed – although they may have wanted to.  And no, I wasn’t the only one.

Fourth, yoga is as much for the mind as the body. Once you get into it you realize how beneficial taming and tuning the brain really is. And at the end of each class (my favorite part) I leave with a sense of peace and joy that I rarely started the class with.

Fifth, I’ve made a lot of friends.  I love walking into class and being greeted by men and women I’ve come to know. Our group is friendly and welcoming-  a tone set by our teacher and embraced by us all. Recently, my sisters have joined up and it makes the experience all the more enjoyable

Sixth, it’s really, really worth it. I want to be able to walk, move, bend and stretch for years to come and yoga is my key to insuring that future. I often find myself in a crowd at a concert or fair and see how many people my age struggle to freely move about. It’s a constant reminder for me to get out of bed and head to my yoga class.
​
No matter what your age or ability yoga is a gift you really should consider giving yourself.
​

​Who knew that owning a pair of red shoes could create such magic - inspiring happiness, a feeling of gay abandon and a total  fashion reawakening.
But that’s just what they did!
My quickly approaching sixty-fifth birthday motivated me to take on several life changing challenges. Challenges designed to force me to try something new, tackle a problem or simply focus more energy on self-improvement. And silly me, in order to keep myself honest, I chose to share my journey with all of you on my website with my blog,  Please Don’t Make Me Have To Learn How To Ride A Camel.
I set several personal goals to meet before lighting up my sixty-five B-Day candles and the clock has continued to click. My face gets red and my heart quickens with anxiety every time I think how soon April will be upon us. I’ve partially met some challenges, made progress on others, and with the purchase of my red shoes, I’ve completed two of the challenge, which included:

1. Walk thirty minutes a day at least five days a week -  Doing better every week towards meeting this goal.

2.    Finish writing my book, The Witch of Bergen -  80% done with the rewrites.
3.    Read Paul Arden’s best seller – It’s Not How Good You Are, It’s How Good You Want To Be.  Ding, Ding, Ding!   Read  it and blogged about it last month!
4.     Lose twenty pounds. Tortuously slow – only 4 pounds down.

1.  Buy a pair of flashy red shoes. Ding, Ding, Ding! Did it! 

And what a thrill, this proved to be. As much as I longed to slip my feet into a pair of  flashy Jimmy Choo’s, I just couldn’t muster the courage to spend $2,695.00 on a pair of red beaded stilettos. To be completely truthful, I’m not sure if I was more afraid of the price of the shoes or of tumbling off the glittering stilettos. Either way, I had to pass them by.
 
However, having taken on this challenge, I refused to back down. I didn’t give in and buy any old run-of-the-mill red pumps, nor did I give up and buy a pair of red Converse tennis shoes either. No way! I bought myself a pair of bright red boots. And to seal the deal, I wore them out to a formal Christmas dinner party and felt wonderful. Perhaps a bit over the top, but none the less eye catching, I danced around the room, kicking up my heels with my glass of Pinot Grigio in hand. Of course their bright color stood out against my black slacks and black velvet top, but what the heck – I took a chance and felt all the better for it.
 
And here’s the funny part, as I looked around the room, I recognized that I had become a member of the over sixty sisterhood of red shoes. I counted at least ten other women my age proudly sporting red footwear. High heels, low heels, sandals, tennis shoes and even a pair of red clogs all joined in celebrating the night with me and my boots.
 
Now the writer in me wanted to go around the room and ask why these women had chosen to wear red footwear, but the realist recognized it for what it was. We were all searching for a fun way to celebrate life… and that’s just what we did in our playful red footwear. I’m sure that there was more than one envious woman who left the party anxious to hurry out to buy their own red boots. How could they resist?
 
I’ve still got sixteen pounds to go, more time walking required and a book to finish editing before April comes. Fingers crossed, I’ll make it! In the mean time, I’m partying away in my red boots. You should try it too!
 
Happy Holidays to you all!

I just returned from a long, wonderfully exhausting  trip to Europe with my husband. All along the way I faithfully  jotted down interesting locations, names and legends in my Book O’ Names  -  hoping to include a few in one of my future books. I fell in love with shop names like, Thistle Do Nicely and A Spinkle of Kiltness and enjoyed meeting interesting people like Killian the kilt maker and Hamish the sweater weaver. Throughout England, Ireland, Scotland and Norway we met charming, welcoming people all happy to share their stories. Beautiful old ghost filled castles and open green fields filled with cattle, sheep and Shetland ponies made the trip even  more interesting. And, of course, a trip down Strawberry Lane was just too cool to pass up.
Near the end of our travels we came upon the quaint village of Hoswick, Scotland. Venturing down the exceptionally narrow main street, we parked in the one spot big enough to house our massive tour bus; a bus that was half the length of the main street.
The town of Hoswick was tiny but beautiful, situated near a body of clear blue water with rock filled shorelines and lush hills of green.  Although I hadn’t noticed it when we drove in, I soon discovered that the village consisted of only two shops and a neighborhood Welcome Center. A dozen or so houses were clustered nearby. Clothes freely flapped on yard clotheslines and the town taxi cab driver chatted up visitors as she waited for her next fare.
We visited the two shops that sold beautiful hand knit sweaters. Although the sweaters were quite lovely, they were made for cold Scottish winters and were far too heavy for either of us to wear on the beaches of California, so we decided to take a walk. It was in this small Scottish village that I came upon an unexpected tiny treasure; a shop the likes of which I had never experienced before.
Adjacent to the Welcome Center a petite hand painted sign directed us towards Emma’s Cake Corner.  As both my husband and I love cake, we couldn’t pass up the possibility of enjoying a late afternoon sweet treat before returning to our ship. Following the sign, we walked up a stone pathway, that ended unexpectedly at a private driveway. I was certain that we had missed the cake shop, although I wasn’t sure how.
Disappointed, we turned around to retrace our steps and stumbled upon a turquoise and yellow painted shed with a sign Emma’s Cake Corner tacked to the front of it. We had not discovered a traditional bakery at all, but rather something quite different. As I tentatively reached to open the shed door, I heard a child’s voice yell, “Mum, there’s someone in the Honesty Box!”
Not discouraged by the warning, my husband opened the turquoise doors and was surprised to find a plethora of treats. Cupcakes, brownies, cookies and more were all individually wrapped just waiting to be discovered. And on the bottom shelf were all sorts of tantalizing local candies. A simple hand scripted sign thanked visitors for coming to Emma’s, encouraged them to help themselves and asked shoppers to please write down what they took and the cost. There was a metal box to place coins in and a plastic container that held any change that might be needed. The Honesty Box held the most incredible looking treats ever and all that was asked in return was for us to be honest and pay the required coins.
We were the first to discover Emma’s but certainly not the last. Before long, it looked like our entire tour bus was loading up on the sweets, happy to pay the very reasonable fare. My husband and I had started a trend and one that seemed to make at least one very small child happy. We could still hear her giggling as we headed back towards the bus.
Since coming home, I have shared our discovery with my friends only to learn that Honesty Boxes are nothing new. They can be found just about everywhere. While baked delights might not be as common, eggs, fruit and vegetables are apparently available in countryside Honesty Boxes throughout the U.S.
I share my story with you because Honesty Boxes were new to me and just might be new to you too. I thought you might like to create your own Honesty Box or maybe even include one in one of your own upcoming stories - that’s what I plan to do!